Maeve woke sore and exhausted after a night of torment from the bullet vibrator. Her limbs ached where the rope still bound her, drool dribbled from her gagged mouth and her thong was soaked with her own juices. She was hungry and she was desperate to go to the loo.
"Good morning, little slave."
She tensed at the sound of the witch's voice, heat rising in her cheeks from the humiliation of her situation. She wondered how long the other woman had been watching her?
A not unpleasant sensation washed over Maeve and she felt the ropes, blindfold, gag and vibrator simply vanish from her body. She blinked in the daylight, willing her trembling arms to push her to her knees. The witch sat across the room at the kitchen table, her long, pale legs poking through the slit in her black dress. A mug of coffee sat on the table beside her, a spoon lazily stirring itself in the dark liquid. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she looked at Maeve and then she clicked her fingers and the door to Maeve's cage swung open.
"The outhouse is round back. You can wash up in the bathroom upstairs when you are done."
Maeve clambered out of the small cage and rose unsteadily to her feet. The world seemed to spin around her but she planted her feet firmly on the floor and took a deep breath, waiting for the sensation to pass. When she had regained her balance she stalked to the front door without a word.
"Mercenary?" the witch called out after her. Maeve stopped in the open door and glared back at the witch over her shoulder. "We have a contract, remember. If you try to run, I'll know."
As if to prove her point, the collar around Maeve's neck tightened for just a moment. Her hand went to the cool metal band but it had lasted such a short time that she wondered if she had imagined it. The witch met her accusatory gaze and the corners of her black lips turned up in a smirk that sent a shiver down Maeve's spine. She hurried out of the cottage without a word.
On any other occasion, Maeve would have thought it to be a pleasant morning. Warm sunlight flooded the clearing where the cottage sat and she could once again hear the birds calling to each other from their nests. The garden was in full bloom and she marvelled at the many colours and exotic smells that filled her nostrils as she walked around the side of the cottage to the small, wooden outhouse built against the back of the cottage.
She pushed open the door and was pleasantly surprised to find that the outhouse was clean and neat inside. The beams were woven with strands of ivy and as she closed the door behind her a candle flickered to life within a recess in the back wall.
Maeve peeled off her sodden thong and sat glumly on the loo. She was still trembling. Emotions that she could not place roiled within her. She wept and then she punched the walls and snarled her frustration into the little room. When she had finished she felt no better. She stood and cleaned herself. She didn't bother putting her ruined thong back on again when she left.
She made her way back to the cottage, pausing at the door to glance over her shoulder towards the trees. Even if she wanted to run, she knew it would do her no good. She had got lost in the forest once and without any sense of which way to go and no supplies, running off now would be a death sentence. All that she could do was go back into the cottage with her head held high. She had agreed to help the witch and abide by the terms of their contract. Maeve had built her reputation by keeping her word and seeing her jobs through to completion and she wasn't about to stop that now.
The witch was still sitting at the kitchen table when Maeve pushed open the front door walked back into the cottage. She kept her head up, uncaring about her tear stained eyes, and strode straight past the witch without looking at her to the back of the room. She ascended the crooked staircase to the upper floor of the cottage and emerged onto a landing with half a dozen doors leading to various rooms. Realising that she didn't know which room was the bathroom, she began to try the doors at random. They were all locked apart from the door at the far end of the landing which swung lazily open at her touch. She stepped inside to find a large copper bathtub in the centre of the room that immediately began to fill itself with hot, soapy water. She dipped her fingers into the warm water and managed a smile as she realised the witch's magic did at least have its uses.
A dressing table sat beneath the only window and there was a floor length mirror in one corner of the room. She barely recognised her own reflection. Her eyes were indeed red and there were streaks of black eyeliner running down her cheeks. She looked a state but, as crippling and overwhelming as the previous night had been, a part of her could not look away from her ruined face. She remembered the feel of the ropes encircling her limps, their outline still just visible on her skin, and the constant pulse of the vibrator between her legs. She had been utterly powerless to stop it and something deep down inside of her had liked it.
She scowled as she pushed the thought aside and began to strip off her armour and clothes, placing them in a neat pile beside the bath before easing herself into the water with a deep sigh. The water was warm and instantly soothed her tired limbs. She lay there in silence with her eyes closed for as long as she dared, the water never losing its soothing temperature, before reluctantly starting to scrub herself clean. When she had finished she climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a large purple towel that hung on the wall beside the mirror. She dried her peppermint hair and pulled it back into its usual loose bun behind her pointed ears. There was plenty of makeup on the dressing table and she figured the witch wouldn't mind her using some of it so she perched herself on the stool in front of the table and reapplied her eyeliner and dusted her eyelids with some purple shadow. She wasn't really sure why she was bothering with the makeup when the witch would be the only one to see it but it felt like an act of defiance so she did it anyway.
"Well don't you look lovely?"
Maeve jumped and spun on the stool to face the witch who was standing behind her in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest.
"I came to see what was taking you so long," she said. "In case you have forgotten, we have a long journey ahead of us."
"I was just about to get dressed," Maeve said through gritted teeth.
"Then I suggest you hurry."
Maeve clenched her jaw as she stood up and glared at the witch. She waited for the other woman to leave but it very quickly became apparent that she wasn't going anywhere.
"Tick tock, Mercenary," the witch taunted.
Maeve raised her chin as she let her towel fall to the floor. She felt the witch's eyes roam over her body as she bent over and began to pull on her armour and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Despite the humiliation, Maeve took her time getting dressed. Her armour was not especially valuable but she considered it to be her most prized possession and treated it with the respect it deserved. Her studded leather corset went on first followed by the matching skirt of studded leather straps. She strapped her steel pauldrons to her shoulders and her vambraces to her forearms before pulling on her knee high sandals and placing the small silver tiara, a virtually worthless relic from some long lost elven house that she had accepted as payment for a job she had done in the past, upon her brow. She wished she could put on her thong. The straps of her skirt were not particularly long and she knew that if the witch looked closely enough she would see between them, but Maeve didn't want to give the woman the satisfaction of asking her to wash her still soaked panties from the night beforehand.
"What about my swords?" Maeve asked when she had finished.
"You'll have them when you need them," the witch said.
