The Amberdown Rebellion

A fantasy in nine acts.

Imagine an Amberdown and the characters from

Beth's Summer Break

in a universe at a slight tangent to this one.

Imagine Bethany Hamilton really

is

an Elfin Princess...

Rated 'Adult Only' for descriptions of extreme violence and depraved sexual acts.

Contains foul language, drug and alcohol consumption and cute little elfin tails.

Act 1 -- Voice of Treason

Princess Bethan stood up in the saddle and waved back at Samir, trailing some distance behind her. Her long brown hair was streaming out behind her as Shadow, her beautiful white unicorn, ate up the ground along the lakeside. Samir waved back, his own hair almost as long as Bethan's as his black unicorn Sasha struggled to keep up with the pace.

As Bethan turned back and resumed her riding position, her smile faded as she saw flames leaping up from the soaring towers of Amberdown in the distance. "Not again," she thought. This was happening far too often.

As she turned back to Samir, his image faded and she heard the harsh, echoing sound of the outer cell door opening. As she was dragged from her fitful sleep, she felt the rough cot beneath her, hay prickling her unmercifully, unseen insects biting. She took in her filthy, stained once-white shift, the stench of the rudimentary 'comfort' facilities in the corner of the cell, the dank walls and worst of all, the thick iron bars and large wooden door set with a series of un-pickable locks.

Yes, it was happening far too often. Every morning now in fact. The same dream, reliving the moment when everything changed. She had not seen Samir since - she didn't know if he still lived. She had lost count of the days. Early on she had tried to keep track of them by scratching sets of five-bar gates on the wall behind her cot, but after a few sets of five she had given up in tears. She feared that if she kept going, she would end up centuries from now as an old woman with a million small marks on the walls.

The shackles on her wrists and ankles chafed. They were heavy and unmerciful; she could barely walk due to the shortness of the chains linking her legs - her wrists were hardly any more mobile. It was all she could do to raise them to her mouth to eat or drink.

Not that there was much to eat or drink.

Bethan had lost track of how many times she had tried to smash her own brains out on the cell walls, but whatever enchantment was in place meant that each time she tried, a proliferation of spongy moss bloomed from the wet stones, blocking her movement and leaving her weeping in frustration.

Time after time, she had clawed at the collar that was tightly fused to her throat, inhibiting her ability to cast spells. Djinna had told her it could never be separated from her now it was in place. It was part of her, woven into her flesh. In more peaceful times she would have relished the feel of it, but the hold it had over her powers sickened her.

She sometimes thought it may have been feeding her some sort of soporific, but she doubted Djinna would want her to be sedated. She would want her to feel everything, every humiliation, every indignity. It was what conquerors lived for, making their vanquished foes suffer.

The door to her cell opened and she saw the dark, squat bulk of the guard in the doorway, his face covered by a leather mask. It was the moment each day she dreaded. She still couldn't tell them apart - which one would it be? 'On Your Knees' or 'Lucky Elf-Bitch'?

The guard walked in and placed a skin of water on the small table next to her cot. It would be warm and brackish as usual and she was convinced there was something unpleasant in there. Some stale bread and dried meat accompanied it.

A meal fit for a princess, but of course first she had to show her gratitude at such largesse.

It was 'On Your Knees.' He pointed to the floor and she knelt obediently as she had done so many times before, trying to ignore the roughness of the cell floor on her bare knees, her bonds making every movement difficult and painful. The first time, he had threatened her with what would happen if she bit him with her sharp little fangs. She knew they'd grow back, but the pain and ignominy of having them pulled out with rusty pliers did not appeal. At least he was usually quicker than his compatriot, who liked to alternate between what he called her 'elfin bucket' and her back passage. She was apparently a 'lucky elf-bitch' to have the pleasure of his company.

He moved towards her and she took his pathetic excuse for a manhood in her beautiful mouth and went off into pleasanter places, imagining it was Samir's huge member that she was accommodating. A few thrusts and a guttural grunt and he was done. She swallowed the acrid semen -- it tasted horrible compared to Samir's sweet nectar, but mercifully there was a lot less of it. She winced as her gripped her elongated, pointed and delicate elfin ears and twisted them as he came.

His filthy hands added more grime to her already matted hair. She gasped and came up for air as he withdrew. He pointed at her meal on the table. His voice was rough and unpleasant. "Good girl. I ain't pissed in it today."

He turned and made for the door. He glanced back, tucking himself away. "Not bad... for an animal..."

Bethan brought herself back to the horror of the present and with her hands shaking from shame and the weight of the chains, drank some of the bitter water. The rest could wait for later.

Two floors above her cell, in decidedly more salubrious surroundings, Djinna cupped her voluptuous breasts in her hands as she slowly bucked herself up and down on Samir's huge cock. She hated these effete elves, but she had to wonder how those skinny, pale, elfin women could take such monstrous appendages without any apparent ill effects. They looked like they should be torn apart. Samir was filling her like no-one from her own race had ever done. They were an enigma, these elves and she was determined to get to their secrets. They lived for a thousand years -- almost immortal in human terms. It was why she was here. She was forty one in human years, still a stunning specimen, with lustrous long blonde hair and breasts that had conquered as many kingdoms as her band of Amazon warriors. She'd find out their secrets alright, and she'd live for another nine hundred years and more. There were so many more puny races to enslave.

Bethan had wondered if Samir was still alive. He was, but in his drugged state, he barely registered the fact that the woman who had conquered the realm that he and his beloved Bethan had ruled over with such a benign hand was using him as a sex toy, pleasuring herself on his massive, engorged member at her will.

As Djinna rode Samir, her advisor and confidante Josefyn was watching intently from across the room. Her catlike green eyes were dilated from her constant use of pepper-spice, her shining red hair tumbling around her shoulders. In one hand, she held a glass of elfwine; the other was digging deeply between her open legs, into the soft downy fur that covered her lower half.

Djinna picked up her own glass of elfwine and raised it to her friend. "To conquest!"

Josefyn took a sip and purred, a sound that Djinna never tired of hearing. A lovely, deep, satisfying sound that vibrated in her chest, a sound of pure lust. "To subjugation," she sighed and looked at the glass. "They are indeed a useless race, but they make fine wine."

Djinna doubled her efforts on Samir and drank again. "And some do have other uses!" Another drink, another raise of the glass. "To having a jackboot on the throats of this pathetic race. To bending them to our will. To using their resources for our own ends. To using them as a resource!" She tossed back the last of the liquid, throwing the crystal glass across the room, laughing as the delicate elfin artefact shattered against the wall.

Josefyn drained her own glass and extricated her long dextrous fingers from her nether regions. She unfurled herself and slowly walked over to Djinna. She was still purring and Djinna knew what that meant. She shivered at the prospect of those sharp little teeth going to work on her.

But before Josefyn could reach her, a door opened and another woman entered the room. Djinna stiffened as she saw who it was. Izador -- the leader of her Amazon warriors. She was two metres tall, her jet black hair hanging to her waist, held back from her face by a golden band. Her mysterious, slanted eyes were deepest blue and her skin a beautiful light olive colour. She was wearing a simple white gauzy shirt and matching leggings, barely managing to cover her copious warrior tattoos and battle scars. Her pet yaguara, Alikat, was at her side, not really needing the chain that held her, so tame was she. The chain was for show -- the sleek, elegant black beast was so sweet and gentle, but no-one other than Izador need know that. She knew that Djinna secretly feared her, and the illusion of having a big cat as a pet added to the mix.

Djinna beckoned to her. "Mmm, come sister, join us. This elf is truly worth the price of conquest alone!"

Izador laughed to herself. 'The price of conquest?' The fact that the peace loving elves had surrendered without a shot being fired had not mattered to Djinna. She smiled sweetly at the woman she had come to despise in the last ten days. Djinna bridled as Alikat moved close to her, sniffing the air, her long whiskers twitching. Izador subtly flicked her chain and the yaguara growled, making the conquering Queen break her rhythm. Josefyn ran her hand along the cat's sleek fur, eliciting a deep, satisfied rumble from the animal.

Izador broke the tension. "I'd love to join you; he looks a fine prize, my Queen. But if I may beg your indulgence, I would like to take out my lust and pent up aggression on the Elf Princess in the dungeons." Izador wound her hand into her long black hair and twisted it provocatively. Her smile was pure wickedness. "I think I can increase her suffering to a degree that will bring my Queen such overwhelming pleasure."

Djinna smiled and her massive breasts jiggled as she rode even harder on Samir's prostrate body. "You please me as ever, Warrior. Make sure she suffers -- I have every faith you will bring her to within inches of ending her pathetic life." She paused and pointed a taloned finger at her Amazon. "But only within inches. She has centuries to endure in that cell. Use her as you will."

Izador bowed her head. "Thank you my Queen. You have my word."

As she turned to go, she heard a purring voice from behind her. "Get her cleaned up first, sweetie. Last time I checked on her, she stank like a sewer."

Izador smiled back at the cat-woman. She wanted nothing more than to set Alikat on her and watch her pet rip the bitch apart. "Oh don't worry, dear Jos -- I have big plans for our lovely Bethan." The yaguara rubbed against her leg as she left the room, rumbling softly. She muttered under her breath, "You'll see, cat-bitch... Radiant Queen. You won't fucking well know what's hit you."

Bethan groaned inwardly as the outer cell door clanged again. She braced herself for 'Lucky Elf-bitch' but was surprised when three women peered at her through the bars. One was enormous, obviously one of Djinna's Amazon warriors. Bethan was tall at nearly six feet, but slim and shapely. This woman was over a head taller and equally proportioned. She was stunning. In a more accommodating moment, Bethan would have been impressed, but today she was just about at the end of her tether.

The Amazon pushed the other two women towards the cell. "Clean her up. She's no use to me in that state." She turned on her heel and Bethan was left alone with two frightened elves. She recognised them from the household... before everything had changed.

Jenefer and Melani. She was pleased she remembered them. It gave her something to hang on to. They were gentle and kind and they whispered their apologies to her. As they washed away the dirt and filth of the last Gods-knew how long, she felt so much better. She thanked them, her voice a croak from not being used in so long.

"Forgive us, Princess," whispered Jenefer. Melani wiped away a tear. Bethan placed a shackled hand on each of their heads. "Nothing to forgive. You still serve me well. Survive this and you will be repaid one day for your kindness."

Bethan glanced at the buckets they had been using. The water was filthy. She shuddered at the shame of her predicament, but for the first time in weeks she felt clean. Melani handed her a clean shift and she put it on gratefully.

Izador came back into the cell and looked her up and down. "Better." She fluttered her fingers and Bethan's soaking wet hair dried instantly. She nodded to the two serving women. "Thank you, you have done well. You may pleasure each other tonight." They scurried away mouthing their gratitude.

"Stand," Izador commanded her. She took Bethan's shackled wrists and attached a chain to them. She dragged her from the cell, seemingly unaware or indifferent that the elf could barely hobble due to her ankle chains. She pulled her down stairs and along corridors long unused. As she was dragged, Bethan could not think when these dungeons had last been used before Djinna and her army had arrived. It must have been centuries.

She herself was a mere girl at one hundred and five years, but she could not remember them ever containing any prisoner.

Except for now.

Finally her journey ended in a six sided chamber that she did not even recognise. Amberdown was a warren and there were so many long hidden and unused rooms that she hadn't a clue where she was. She was kneeling on the floor, facing a tall stand-up mirror. Izador was twisting the chain on her wrists, circling around her. She seemed impossibly large and forbidding. Bethan began to compose herself for her last moments.

Izador stopped her circling and placed herself between Bethan and the mirror. She pulled harder on the chain, making the elf wince. She lifted her head and looked the Amazon in the eye. If she was going to die, she'd go out bravely. "I have one request," she croaked, her voice cracked and broken. "Once you have done with me, kill me quickly. Let me rest. I will acquiesce to any indignity if you grant me that."

"Not an option, I'm glad to say. I am not here to kill you Bethan." Izador moved closer, her voice even and calm. She leant towards her captive and added in a whisper, "I am here to save you." The elf began to say something but the Amazon pulled on the chain even harder, making her cry out. "By all that you hold dear, if you want to see Samir again and restore your elfdom, you will need to trust me."

Bethan shook her head, utterly bewildered. Samir was alive? Her heart leapt in her chest. "What... who are you? What do you want from me?" Her throat ached from underuse, her voice cracking again. Izador reached down and ran two fingers down Bethan's long, elegant neck.

Healer's hands -- Bethan felt like the finest honey had been poured down her throat. The ache subsided. She lowered her head and whispered, "Thank you."

Izador pulled her up by her delicate ears, making her squirm in discomfort. "I apologise, but they are watching us, Djinna and Josefyn, but they cannot hear us." She nodded almost imperceptibly to the mirror behind her. "I must make this appear as if it is going very badly for you. It is what they expect, what they want. Once we are through that door..." she nodded towards a heavily fortified wooden door to Bethan's left, "... we will be safe. You will be safe. There are things that will happen that you will not like, nor will I, but I assure you they are necessary. I need you to trust me. I am your only chance. I am Amberdown's only chance."

Bethan closed her eyes. Her golden voice had returned. "Do what you will, Amazon woman. But if you are lying to me, I will somehow find it in myself to kill you in the most horrific way imaginable. I place myself in your hands. It cannot be worse than my oubliette and my stinking gaolers."

Izador nodded down at the elf. "Wise word elf princess. Now - I need you to do two things for me." She pulled a wicked looking serrated knife from a scabbard on her left thigh. Bethan shuddered. It could part her head from her neck in an eye-blink. "When I come at you with this, feint to your left. I'll cast a spell to make your shackles weightless. It will help. Then when I swing my other fist at you, play unconscious. If I do hit you, unconsciousness will not be feigned -- I am a warrior and I have taken many lives with one hit."

She raised the knife and Bethan braced herself, but for what?

Djinna was still riding on Sam, Josefyn now kneeling before her, her cat's tongue lapping at the union between his huge erection and Djinna's sopping wet snatch. On another occasion Samir may well have been in ecstasy, but he was in no fit state to notice. Djinna picked up a hand mirror from the bed and showed the vision on the glass to Josefyn. She laughed. "Our little elf princess will soon be suffering even more."

As she watched the next few minutes play out in the mirror, she felt herself getting closer to release as Samir's wondrous erection filled her and Josefyn's expert tongue thrilled her fat, swollen clitoris. She watched in wonder as Izador's wicked blade slashed down and severed the elf-bitches tail a few inches from her pretty little buttocks. The remaining piece of tail twitched on the floor, two feet of pale flesh capped by a little tuft of brown hair. As the elf thrashed in agony, the Amazon smashed her left fist into the side of her head and she crashed to the ground unconscious. As Djinna screamed in triumph, a massive orgasm shook her body. She was laughing like a madwoman as Izador carried the bleeding and insensitive elf into her private chambers. It was a shame they wouldn't be able to see what was coming. It was going to get exceedingly unpleasant!

Josefyn drank the cascade of juices that squirted from Djinna's satisfied pussy. As her mistress slid off Samir, she took over, purring in delight as she impaled herself on his hugeness. Djinna was lying in a heap on the bed, hugging the mirror. "Oh, Izzy, you perfect thing, I want you to hurt her so badly! Break her will, break her flesh. We'll take everything from her and when nothing is left, her secrets will be mine!"

"What then?" purred the cat-woman.

"Then we burn this shit-hole to the ground, kill them all and move on to the next nine hundred years!"

Act 2 -- A Trick of the Tail

Bethan hadn't intended to gorge herself on the food laid out in Izador's chamber, but when the Amazon left her alone for a few minutes the temptation was too great. Before she left, Izador had removed her shackles and healed the sores that had developed beneath. She almost wept as she tasted fine dishes long denied her. At the back of her mind, a voice was screaming at her -- 'Samir lives! Samir lives!' It was the first hope she had had in so long. If only she could trust this strange woman. She was still tearing at suckling pig and fresh bread when Izador returned carrying a flask in one hand and a glass tube in the other.

She poured a glass of the clear, sparkling liquid and handed it to Bethan. She inhaled deeply, savouring the sweet, heady aroma. She only intended to take a sip, but once she tasted her first drop of Elfwine for an eternity, she couldn't stop. She gulped at it greedily, letting it dribble down her chin onto her shift. She heard Izador laughing. It was a warm, throaty sound and Bethan found it oddly attractive.

Izador took the glass from her as she wiped her mouth on relatively clean sleeve. She refilled the glass and poured one for herself. She smiled at the elf. "Can I trust you to savour this glass and not waste half of it?"