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Dragon's Day is held on the vernal equinox, a time when the Spring Famine, if there is one, starts to bite hard. It is not a time of elaborate feasting or celebrations for the villages. Dragon Day is serious business, conducted with a minimalist ritual. It is also a time of changeable weather. Dragon Day itself had been clear and warm with a brisk south wind. During the night the wind had weathered through west on it's way to northeast, and storm, but the storm had not come yet.
At first light I roused my ladies.
"Rise, my ladies. There is much to do today, but the first task is a cleansing... to wash off your old life.
With me I had a bag that filled the air with fine aromas, it was filled with soaps and lotions.
"We are going out?" said Anna.
"Yes, my dear, to a nearby stream. There you will wash away your cares and concerns. Pick something from the closet to wear after you have washed -- something suitable for kitchen work. You will prepare a meal when you are finished.
The ladies each picked out a dress.
"Before we go, I will bind you." I said, as I pulled some ropes from the bag and slung them over my shoulder. There were looks of mild disappointment.
Anna came forward first. I turned her to face away, and pulled her arms behind her. The skin of her arms was quite delicate, and as her hands came behind her, they rested side-by-side on her rump, her shoulders slid back in a most pleasing way, and when I pulled her arms away from her body to slide rope around her wrists, they came back easily. She was quiet and still as coils of rope circled her wrists, and were then cinched. She was bound.
I patted her on the rump and she moved away.
Paltrice was next. She was quite limber. When I pulled her arms behind her, her elbows touched, she drew a quick breath. Her elbows touched and her hands were held well way from her body, palm-to-palm. This woman had experienced bondage, and enjoyed the experience, at least in her fantasies.
The invitation was... too inviting. I bound her elbows as well as her wrists, and her body was subtly but clearly thrilled. She was going to be a pleasure!
Chasta was last. She walked up, turned, and presented her wrists crossed behind her back. I tied them there, and tied them well. There was great tension in her arms as I tied her. Perhaps she was trying to get some slack so she could escape later. After her wrists were tied together, I tied them tightly to her waist so she couldn't squirm them around.
My ladies were ready for a walk. I lead them out, and through the fine garden behind the workshop.
Dragon's Day is not the prettiest time for a garden, normally, but I always take pains to have this one look like an early May garden, with spring flowers out and in bloom. The dryads who assist me in this are indebted to me, and I ask this of them in return.
The ladies are impressed. "Enjoy the walk." I tell them, and they wander a bit... prancing gracefully through the dewy grass, and kneeling down to smell the flowers... the low sun glinting in their hair, I enjoy the garden oh so much more when "my ladies" are in it.
After a few minutes they come back, and we continue along the path to the bank of a nearby stream. At this point the stream is falling noisily over a five meter high waterfall with a deep undercut, and into a brilliant, clear, pebble-bottomed pool. On the grass sward above the pool I have the ladies kneel. Next to the water I throw out a blanket and lay on it the fine bottles of cleansing potions I have brought with me. There are many bottles, filled with brightly colored liquids and wafting delightful fragrances. There equally colorful and fragrant bars of soaps. I pick out a red bar and wave it gently under Paltrice's nose.
"I will release you, now. Please take off all your clothing and bathe. Wash thoroughly, body and hair, and... enjoy yourself." I take the rope from Paltrice's elbows and wrists. She is reluctant... Finally she asks, "May I take this off in the water?"
"You may." It's a common request. I humor the ladies. She wades in the water, gasping a bit at the chill, until she is breast deep, then removes the dress.
When she is in, I move behind Anna and release her. As I do, I can see a flash of concern on Chasta's face. Anna moves in the water and takes off her dress as Paltrice did. "Throw the dresses back on the shore." I tell her. I move behind Chasta.
I see what has caused her concern now. While we walked she had been working her bonds. She could not free herself, but she managed to slip a loop off of one wrist -- her wrists are reddened with the effort. Instead of untying her immediately, I play with her hair and her neck.
I speak softly into her ear, "Some look upon this as a paradise-on-earth, but you seem to have other thoughts. Tell me what they are."
As first she says nothing; I wait, and continued stroking her hair an neck in a casual way. I was in no rush.
Finally she says, "Until yesterday, no man was my master. Some had tried, but I am strong." Her arms strained against her bonds.
"Then yesterday I was thrown in a cage, and bound to a stake. Today I am bound again. This is not to my liking."
"My dear, your feelings are understandable given your upbringing. But... your world has changed, and because it has changed, your expectations, and feelings must change... Do you like how I am touching you now?"
"No!" She squirmed a bit, trying to move away. Fortunately for her, it felt delicious in my hands because I could sense the beginning of ambivalence. I felt a small spark of that feminine instinct to enjoy a man's touch... a small one. That would have to be fanned, if she was to survive.
"You are now bound to the world of men." I told her, "And it's unlikely you will ever be free of them again. If you were to free yourself now, where would you go? To your mother? And get her disgraced... perhaps killed by a mob?"
"Somewhere!" She leaped up; moved three feet away, and faced me while she struggled furiously against the ropes. She of course didn't see it, but it was quite sensual the way her shoulders circled around her ribs as she fought the waist rope and tried to straighten her arms. She fought the rope, but she had not tried to run away. This was a protest, not an escape. That was good, and she had good moves. She could be world-class pleaser of men, if I could convince her that it was in her interest.
I took the rope I had pulled off of Paltrice, and made a quick, whip snapping motion towards Chasta. The rope wrapped three times around her neck with unnatural accuracy and without tightening. Her struggles stop, almost with a snap, I drag her towards me until she kneels in front of me, sobbing quietly.
"Poor, poor, Chasta." I said. With a quick motion I unwrap the rope from her neck. I turn her around, she does not resist. I unwrap the ropes from her wrists and waist, and slip the dress from her shoulders down to her waist -- the skin of her back has the sprinkling of freckles that is classic with a redhead.
"Stand." She does and the dress falls gracefully from her body -- the freckles end at the small of her back. She is a woman who's spirit is out-of-body now... ready to be raped, or suffer any other indignity that I, a man, would choose for her to experience. Her body would suffer it, her soul would not. It was a classic female response, and an ecstatic thrill for any young man who has not experienced it before. In makind's long, violent history, how many successful bondings between man and woman had started this way?
But I have seen this state in a woman, many times, and taking her now would not do for what I have in mind for her. A woman taken at a time like this is forever "broken" -- she will serve, but she will never know passion while she serves. The mystery of romantic love would remain forever a mystery that she could never know. I don't want that for her. She must love, and enjoy love.
"Arms behind you." She crosses her wrists behind her back. This command tells me much about the woman's physiology. A rigid woman will cross her arms behind her back. A more flexible woman places them side by side on her rump; the most flexible will pull their elbows way behind and place their hands palm-to-palm. Chasta is strong and rigid, she looks like a soldier at ease.
I don't take her; I don't bind her. I circle around her. My hand wanders over her shoulders, chest and back. It slides up and down her arms; it feels her ribs and tummy... in this state she is not ticklish. I notice her hip bones protrude nicely over her tight belly. My hand wanders across her thighs and rump... Finally she looks at me, and there is a spark of curiosity. She has not been taken, and her soul is now impatiently waiting to return into her body. The instinct has been aroused, but not been implemented, she will be more resistant to going out-of-body in the future. Good!
In a final gesture I fondle her breasts a bit... I am a man after all, and I tell her, "Go cleanse."
She heads mechanically into the stream. I call to the other woman. "Ladies, Chasta needs your help cleansing. You must clean her, and clean her well. Top to bottom, and all that lovely hair."
The shock of the cold water snaps her spirit completely back into her body. Paltrice and Anna starting giggling and gossiping as they douse Chasta with water, then lather her with soap. Chasta looks back at me, quizzically, then starts to really take notice of the soft hands and sensuous strokes that Paltrice and Anna are using to lather her up -- the warmth of them now melts the terror of the moment ago.
The woman laugh and carouse in the pool. They try the various ointments and unguents, the water, their hair and their skins become a cacophony of colors and scents. While they laugh and play, I have elf children bring up luncheon supplies and start a fire in the hearth subtly carved in the rock cliff.
"Enough for now, my precious ladies!" I shout. "Now, you must earn your keep!"
They look up, quizzically.
"You must prepare my lunch." and I gesture towards the hearth and table filled with the beginnings of tasty morsels.
Somewhat reluctantly the girls come out. They all look like patchwork dolls with all the colors still streaked all over their skin and hair. They shriek in giggly laughter looking at themselves. They take their time drying themselves, and complain that they can't do a thing with their hair, but they comb it, and shape it, and braid it, and, somehow, the results are stunning. Never underestimate how much beauty hides in a long-haired woman five years past puberty.
They dress, and then get about a business they are very comfortable doing: preparing a meal for a master. All of the last twenty four hours has been new and strange for them, but this is a ritual they all know very well. The conversation becomes muted; the hands move deftly and quickly; soon tasty-looking nic-nacs are appearing.
In the picnic bag is a small folding table and chair. I pull them out and sit at the table.
The women each bring a plate.
"When you are not preparing, you may sit by me and touch me." I tell them.
This is new for them. Normally, they prepare, serve, then leave quietly. They are not quite sure what to do. I motion for them to stand beside me. Paltrice and Anna do; I take a hand of each and put it lightly on my shoulder.
"Where you go there will be new customs." I say.
Chasta stands off. "I choose who I touch."
"Then put your hands behind you."
She does. I make what the peasants call an "eldritch motion" -- this time it is, in reality, a hand signal to the invisible dryad who serves me by keeping this grove charming. Anna and Paltrice gasp as one of the ropes floats off the ground. It goes behind Chasta and binds her. She is calm as it happens, just tossing her head to move that wondrous mass of red hair. Her breasts bob delightfully as her shoulders accommodate the growing mass of cord around her wrists. The rope snakes about her waist, and she is once again helpless.
"Kneel." I say. She balks for a moment, then a knee buckles and she is on the ground -- the dryad has helped her some more. Her head is high, and she glares at me... very unladylike. Where did this woman learn her manners! Still... there is intelligence in those eyes. There is some hope.
"I humor you today, my dear, because it's a wonderful day and it suits me. But, you are no longer master of your own fate... not that you ever were. If you are not able, and willing, to learn and obey new customs, you should become dragon food." I pause, and sample some of the food on the table. The hands of Anna and Paltrice on my shoulders somehow add a wonderful flavor to the food. It is a wonderful time. I'm in no hurry.
"If you will not touch me, entertain me." I order Chasta.
Her head finally bows, this is a familiar command to her, and it evokes a familiar response, thank goodness! There is some hope for her! "How may I do that, my lord?"
"Your hands are tied. Use your mind and your voice."
The girl thinks a moment, then raises her voice in song. It is a popular song in the region -- one with a lead singer and a chorus. She is lead singer, and when the chorus comes, the other girls chime in. As they do, their hands dance a bit on my shoulders. Ahh... Truly a wondrous piece of music. I am well pleased. By the fourth chorus, I'm joining in as well.
Jane of Ocelot
The song is about the ambush of a popular leader of two decades ago. I knew the man personally, and it was a tragedy, indeed. Ironically, "Sir Ocelot" is Chasta's father, Hanshet. He was retired from foreign service, but was still serving me domestically. His nom de guerre was Sir Ocelot, and his persona was that of a bandit who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor. The giving to the poor was real enough, I financed that. This persona made him a natural contact for malcontents, whom he kept an eye on.
Unfortunately, it also made him a contact for a sinister plot hatched by the Kalchonikovs, my rivals in the north end of this valley. The plot was foiled, but they discovered that he was the whistleblower and ambushed him. I later saw to it that "Lackluster John" and his bandit-knights paid dearly for their incursion into my end of the valley, but I did it quietly -- if you can call dying of a horrible pox a quiet death. That part of the episode is not chronicled.
I respected Hanshet greatly, so I had a minstrel compose a song to him, using a new singing form that I had heard in my travels. I wanted to introduce this new form to enrich my peasants' lives in this valley. The form has proved widely popular, and The Black Rocks remains widely sung. I hope that Hanshet, wherever he is, gains some satisfaction from that, and from his daughter executing his tale in such a powerful manner.
The song ends, and I finish eating.
"This was excellent. I would like more." I say. Anna and Paltrice return to the preparing table. Chasta stares at me...
This is a critical point. There are limits to my patience, and if I have to tell her that, I will take her back to the dragon -- it will not give me pleasure to support a habitual rebel. She must give up on being a rebel. She must learn to show her spirit in other ways. In my mind, I count: one... two... three...
She rises in a most sinuous way; walks to my side; kneels again with her head down, and the knot on her rope within easy reach. I undo the knot; the rope around her waist falls away, but the coils around her wrists remain in place. She rises; and stays beside me as she slowly works her wrists. The coils do not give up their grasp, but I nearly give up a gasp. This woman has an instinct for sensuality that shouldn't be lost!
"Will Master assist me?" She asks quietly.
I pat my lap, and she sits on it. My hands caress her thighs and belly before they move to the coils on her wrists. The touch does not warm her... but that should come. In the meantime, she has made a giant leap towards surviving. When the coils drop from her wrists, she joins the others.
The women eat when I am finished. That custom I find worldwide, I will not try to change that.
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