The Enchantress: To Be Cowardly

The Enchantress: To Be Cowardly

There is an unwritten rule that the hero has always followed. A rule developed from months, and years, of fighting, hating, loving, dating and lusting for his foe: Never fight with all that you’ve got when fighting the enchantress.

No matter how desperate you might feel, don’t use every idea in your ever-updating list of escape plans, less you risk showing your whole hand.

No matter how scared you are always fight back. Don’t surrender without a struggle. She wants you to play. Keep her happy.

No matter how tired you get never cheat. No legendary tools, no calling in favors from the Gods, nothing that could ever endanger her. Never ruin the game.

These guidelines have one exception, however. When in the Enchantress’s room, in which her control is unbreakable and her might is unassailable, where she is truly immortal, invincible, and close to omnipotent, all of these rules fly out the window. The hero lets himself do whatever he feels.

Because he knows that by that point there is no escape anyway. Her room is the belly of the beast, the Game Over.

*** *** ***

The hero feels her nearby and leaps from the stump he had sat on by the fire. She stands before him, her red satin gown too glamorous and clean for these muddy woods. Her enchanted clothes and body simply cannot be stained.

One thing he loathes is how inferior he always feels around her. He never hates the mud and the dirt and the scars on his skin unless she’s around. Even the princess, his love, can’t make him ashamed of his rough edges with glance alone. Why does she make him care so much about such things?

Enchantress: Two days, hero.

Hero: Two days to do what?

Enchantress: I am formally inviting you. To my room.

She holds a scroll of parchment in the air, which magically floats from her hand to his. He reads it. An invitation to the enchantress’s room… with date and specific time detailed…

Enchantress: You will be there, hero. Whether you choose to fight and resist or come willingly, I will make sure you are there.

Hero: Wh-what are you planning?

Enchantress, grinning: What? Must you really ask? A splendid night together with the man I love, of course! If you accept my invitation and come to my room without a fight I promise you a night of splendor and majesty. Soft, luxurious beds, seats, and bear skins to lie on. Platters of enchanted and spiked hors d'oeuvre to keep us going. Time will stand still as I dazzle and pleasure your helpless body. And there, in my mercy, where I control space, mass, energy and time itself, I will use you and embrace you, and coddle you. I will reward your loyalty with an night of unlimited pleasure for us both…

Enchantress: But fail to show up… Force me to make you come, and you will be severely punished… Humiliation and orgasmic denial, all while a second is made to feel like a hundred hours… Ropes and chains and even cement itself surrounding you… Pixies and dark fairies surrounding you, teasing and tickling you… All the while I use your body for my own selfish pleasure… Grinding on you for hours, physically and mentally… biting and teasing… tools and tentacles inserting into your helpless body… Simply agony in the form of twisted pleasure.

The hero steps back… He feels himself growing hot already… The enchantress smirks…

Hero: I won’t go, enchantress…

Enchantress: You cannot hide from me, hero… I have made preparations… A hostage over here, a trap over there… I won’t let you escape…

She cackles and turns away…

Enchantress: Please accept your fate, hero… You will not regret it…

*** *** ***

The hero mulls over the invitation…

He won’t hide. Even the few places in reach that he knows the enchantress would not find him were not options. Knowing his enemy he’s sure she would find a way to force him out in the open…

…He’s afraid. The enchantress out in the open was already a formidable opponent. Insurmountable at times. But in her room, where she is almighty, the word “opponent” does not even apply. Inside she is his God, his saviour, his tormentor, the decider of his fate. He can only think of once, in his entire life, that he willingly stepped inside of it… It was not a pleasant time. A thoroughly pleasurable time, but never pleasant.

*** *** ***

The hero approaches the palace the day of the invite… He walks across the stone bridge crossing the moat of ichor and magma… The eight meter door of ironwood opens for him. He makes his way through the seemingly empty palace… Up stairs of jade and marble…

He remembers each time he’s been in this palace… Raids, kidnappings, missions and escape attempts… Usually ending in failure…

He remembers her touch. Her teasing. Oh, how she could work him… She knows all of his weaknesses, even without magic.

He remembers her scathing words…. Words that can tease and arouse and infuriate him all at once…

He remembers her body… crushing, squeezing, titillating and dominating him in every way imaginable…

He remembers her cunning magic… Her enthralling aura of power… Her overwhelming might that makes little work of his comparatively meager abilities…

It’s natural, isn’t it? To surrender to such a mighty foe?

And when he remembers how charitable she can be… Pleasures and luxuries he can never forget… Erotic nights he’ll cherish in his sinful heart… Her body… Her voice… Her kiss…

He’s at the door now… It will be time for him to enter soon… He can’t be late…

He knows that if he surrenders and enters willingly she will pamper him, and if he resists and tries to escape she will torment him…

Both options, all in the room in which she is most powerful, and he is but her toy…

Every attempt he makes to convince himself to retreat is drowned out by his memory of the enchantress’s sweet kiss… Her evil threats… The pleasure she offers and the pain she can dole out…

As he places one hand on the door knob he thinks to himself, why would he not let her do as she wishes to him, if it means he’ll be safe from her wrath? Why not surrender and be treated like a pampered, if a little condescended toward prince? Why not accept her luxury in return for a little bit shame?

Why keep trying to be her equal?

The hero lets go of the doorknob and runs away from the door. He barely makes it twenty meters.

*** *** ***

Enchantress: For shame, hero… You could have had it all…

She whips the poor naked, prostrated man before her, as black ropes crawl up his body like snakes and bind as well as gag. He squirms as she coos at him…

Enchantress: This will not end as soon as you like, hero… Time itself obeys me here in this room…

The hero squirms and squirms, helpless. The enchantress bites her lower lip in desire…

Enchantress: Let’s hope you do not regret your choice by the time we’re finished…

The hero cries tears of passion and resistance as the enchantress steals all of his dignity from him to be replaced with erotic punishments… empties him of will to fill him up with obedience and surrender… But better to have it be stolen from him than to give it up, he knows…

Enchantress: Oh love… Welcome to hell! <3