...
The curse asserted itself in classic fashion. Janelle's skull seemed to burst open, and long red hair sprouted thick across most of her body. Her entire physique changed from curvy woman to ripped bipedal monster, and inhuman screams erupted from her tortured throat. When the brief change concluded and she stood upright, the only recognizable aspect of her form was the pair of freckled breasts still hanging from the chest.
“Sister,” Ashley said warily as she continued backing away, “please stay calm. I can fix this. Please.....”
Of course, any seasoned monster hunter would know that trying to reason with a lycanthrope is a complete waste of time. The younger princess was just an amateur magus with way too much time on her hands, and her measured plea did nothing but draw attention to herself.
Janelle lunged out of the rune circle with animal swiftness and went right for the younger sibling. Crying out, Ashley flung the hot branding iron at the charging predator and then turned to break for the sanctuary door.
She took only two steps before being caught from behind. The lycanthrope seized her by the neck and threw her in one quick, vicious motion. She screamed until colliding with the winch handle, which released it.
The hook from which she was suspended no longer locked in place, Ariana plummeted toward the cauldron full of her blood as the last wisps of her soul returned to her body through the collar. Somewhat prepared for the descent even though her bound limbs made reacting a nigh impossible chore, she angled herself just enough to land face-down on the lip of the pot. She earned burns on her belly and thighs, but this was preferable to landing headfirst in the boiling goo.
Knowing the lycanthrope would turn on her in seconds, Ariana evaluated her options. There really weren't any with her legs and toes tied. If she could make it to the cage, it might be possible to lock herself in and keep out of Janelle's reach until the beast form reverted. Of course, then she would still be weak and with little chance of escape. Even if she got a head-start just as the lycanthrope began to change back, Janelle would catch her easily as she descended the mountain, and she would be brought back here and bound and tortured anew. At this point she would prefer to simply have her throat torn out.
Then she saw it.
The chest where the sisters had put her equipment, sitting right where it had been all these weeks.
With a glimmer of hope, Ariana worked her feet free of the hook, then she scooted away from the cauldron on her branded bottom. The pain was so great, and she wondered if her body would ever be the same, but at least her soul was safe.
She made it to the container while Janelle still milled about in the shadows, lingering over her sister's unmoving body, perhaps still just human enough to fight the urge to feed. Improvising in her current state, Ariana rolled over and clumsily located the latch behind her. It took some trial and error, but she finally devised the correct motion.
The mechanism released with a loud thump that instantly got the werewolf's attention.
Only a few heartbeats sitting between her and death, Ariana tucked her knees and rolled forward into a crouch. This gave her the leverage she needed to dig her heels in and shove the lid up and open. Her clothing and supplies lay on top of the weapons, and she saw no way of quickly getting to them with her wrists and elbows tied behind her back. In a final desperate attempt to stay alive, she propelled herself over into the chest and jammed her hands into her pack. Her numb fingers closed around a cylinder-shaped object just as the werewolf reached her.
The beast drove headlong into her, spittle flying from open jaws just before latching onto her right shoulder. Fangs pierced her flesh and went to the bone. The chest fell over from the impact, and Ariana skidded a meter or more with the monster clinging to her upper arm. Blood dribbled along her collarbone and neck, gliding under her collar and eventually down between her breasts—blood she could not afford to lose only a day removed from her last draining session.
Knowing she would soon be incapacitated and would only get one chance, Ariana drew on her training and knowledge of lycanthropes, waiting for that split second when the predator would release its prey just long enough to gain a more fatal grip. It was hardly a sure bet, and she would bleed out anyway if Janelle held on too long, but it was all she had.
And the move came quickly.
Mere seconds after crashing into the chest and pinning Ariana to the floor, the transformed princess loosened her bite in an all-out bid for the jugular. Rolling in the direction of the attack, Ariana evaded it and wound up on her belly. Immediately, two paws slammed into her back, and massive wolf-like claws tore tissue from her ribs. She cried out as Janelle settled on top of her, pinning her down in preparation for the final strike at her neck.
When Ariana felt warm breath at the base of her skull, she summoned the last of her strength and thrust her arms up as hard as she could, right into the gut of the beast. The injector that had been supplied by King Allejorn's messenger breached the tough hide of the lycanthrope and pumped the elixir into the unnatural body.
For a moment Ariana feared that the princess would kill her before the drug could take hold, but she sighed in relief as the beast rose and staggered away. Swinging at nonexistent foes, it went one way then the other, ultimately stumbling into the cauldron and spilling the bloody mess across time-worn stone. With a final cry at the moon, the monster collapsed, instantly shed its red fur, and then returned to human form. Janelle's nude body twitched for several moments more before at last going still, save for the slow rhythm of sedated respiration.
Ariana must have lost consciousness on the floor, because she woke with a start and found the situation unchanged. In absurd pain and still tied up impossibly tight, she wormed her way to the spilled chest contents and found her sword. After a solid ten minutes of effort, she managed to get it unsheathed and cut away the ropes on her wrists and elbows. Once free in this regard, her dagger made short work of the leg restraints, crotch rope and breast harness. Last but certainly not least, she opened the nipple clamps and angrily attempted to cast them into the darkness, only to realize her shoulder was so badly damaged she couldn't move it.
Trying not to pass out again, she gathered herself and hobbled over to the wall-mounted winch. Surprisingly, Ashley was injured but still breathing. Ariana searched the girl's robe and found an enchanted key, when she inserted directly into the collar she had worn for so many weeks. It fit, and her final article of bondage fell away. The bladedancer magic within her stirred for the first time since her capture, and she nearly wept with joy as her mind broke the surface of a deep, murky place.
A quick search of the area uncovered a cache of ropes and various implements of torture that the girls had apparently collected over some time. After selecting a few sturdy fibers, Ariana returned to Ashley, stripped her completely, and then bound her in the standard Witch's Shame configuration—wrists tied behind her, fingers wrapped to render them useless, and each ankle crossed with the other and lashed to the opposite thigh. A final rope wrapped about the girl's breasts and linked to her ankles from behind, forcing her back into a rigid arch, which also separated her legs and displayed her vulva for all to see. Traditionally, a rod or plank would be affixed between the subject's knees to keep them open, though the standard tie was usually tight enough to discourage even the most limber captives from fighting the humiliation for long, as drawing the legs together was both strenuous and painful. Additional measures such as nipple and clitoral clamps, toe bindings, gags, blindfolds and collars were common, but such things were considered practical extensions rather than part of the art itself.
The restraint technique had been developed by ancient bladedancers for the purpose of trussing flirtatious, hex-happy witches and other troublesome female captives so they could be shaved and placed in chastity belts, but the style's security had eventually made it the preferred method of strict immobilization in the field. Variations had evolved to accommodate males also, using similar concepts to bind the penis and testicles in a manner that compelled submission. Regardless of sex, prisoners who cooperated were usually covered and cared for once the binding was complete. Those who continued to struggle were left exposed and hungry until they either submitted or drove their captors to use sedation magic.
In the current case, Ariana had no energy to search for anything beyond the basic ropes and gags she had already collected. A large ballgag finished off Ashley's arrangement, and a simple spoken line enchanted the fibers in a manner that would impede spellcasting, much like the collar Ariana had just removed from herself. Witch's Shame, indeed.
She repeated the process with Janelle, finding the elder's big freckled breasts even more suited for the Shame than those of her sister. Still, the werewolf problem would return unless the infected prisoner remained unconscious till sunrise. As such, Ariana saw only two ways to ensure her escape from this mountain: kill both sisters, or find it within herself to complete the ritual she had originally been paid to perform.
Limping back to where her belongings had been scattered, she opened her pack and took stock of the ingredients she'd purchased at the Borra'jin market so long ago. Everything was present. Also, being mostly powders, dried herbs and extracts, it should all still be usable.
Despite wanting nothing more than to flee the sanctuary and never think on it again, Ariana nonetheless sighed, meditated briefly, and then prepared to fulfill her contract.
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