|Trouble in Fairyland|
|© Copyright 2012 - Cropsncuffs - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: Solo-F; M+/f; F/f; bond; captive; straps; harness; gag; naked; bdsm; slave; nc; XX||
|Trouble in Fairyland Cropsncuffs Solo-F; M+/f; F/f; bond; captive; straps; harness; gag; naked; bdsm; slave; nc; XX|
Chapter 1: The Delivery.
“Come on bitch, don’t dawdle !”
That shout bought me back to reality. I had been dosing in the sunlight and my mind had wandered. Rumours had bought me here. Rumours that worried me to my very core and which, if true, meant that I would have to flea my little cottage in the forest. And I didn’t want to have to leave. My Grandmother had left it to me, and the occasional company of a rather handsome woodcutter had made it’s seclusion all the more enjoyable. But word had got round that things were changing, and I just had to know what was really happening here.
There was a thatched farmhouse in the middle of the forest clearing. The ground around it was worn smooth, and outbuildings had been erected on the edges of the trees. There were carefully fenced corals in which horses moved restlessly about, and away to my right pigs wallowed in the mud. All in all, a typical smallholding. But you heard stories……..
A group burst from the trees and suddenly the rumours seemed all too real. There were eight of them in that compact little group, but only seven of them were pleased to be there.
The tallest of the group was a beautiful young woman. Her hair was dark as coal and her skin a delightful pale peach white that must never have seen the sun. She had a figure any woman would have died for. Generous breasts, a narrow waist that flared out into womanly hips then tapered down to slender legs that just cried out for high heels. Not that she was going to getting any of those to wear soon.
At any fashion show or dance she would have attracted the attention of every man there, but here she was the centre of attention for all the wrong reasons.
Her beautifully pale body was tightly wrapped in a harness of black leather straps. They were pulled tight about her hips, about her waist and even tight up between her legs. Her breasts were cradled by scant black leathers cups that displayed rather than concealed. Straps ran up over her shoulders and down over her back before fastening to the waist belt. And as she fought her captors, twisting and turning at the end of their leashes, I saw her wrists were confined in tight cuffs made fast to that waist belt and pulled tightly into the small of her back. Her arms were bent by the way her wrists were tied, as was her back, and the twist in her spine thrust her breasts up and out over those tiny leather cups.
The black straps had been pulled sadistically tight by her captors, every one digging deep into her pale flesh until they left a furrow about them.
Her captors had her prisoner at the end of a number of leashes. There was one running to the big steel ring that sat in the harness in the centre of her chest, and others to her collar and wrists. Cunning use of these kept her always off-balance and on edge. A quick jerk of one made her stagger one way, then jerk from another made her sway back and forth just as she regained her balance.
As they dragged her past my hiding place I almost wept for her as I took in the most evil part of her bondage. Her head was wrapped in a web of tight leather straps, all pulled painfully tight against her head. Her hair was sweat-soaked and plastered to her scalp, odd strands twisting out from under the straps. And between her ruby red lips was a big black ball that rendered her quite incapable of speech. As they passed close by me I could hear her inarticulate whimpers and watched as that evil ball made her dribble helplessly. Tears were running down her face from her big brown eyes and I could see that what little fight she had left was fast fading in the face of her hopeless position.
The group came to a halt outside the farmhouse door, and after some debate between the captors, one respectfully removed his pointed hat and knocked on the door.
There was a pause, then the door creaked open and a figure of which I had heard much emerged.
She was smaller than I had expected. Quite trim and curvy. She wore a plain black skirt that fell about her ankles matched with a smart white blouse and black shoes with spindly high heels. She was middle aged, with a mass of soft curly hair and slightly more makeup than was probably ideal.
The only jarring parts of the prim image she cast standing there was the tight black leather corset that pulled her waist in and made her hips and breasts look larger than they actually were. That and the carpet beater she was clutching in her right hand.
“Yes, what do you want ?” She snapped at the Dwarf. Then she took in the scene before her, with it’s twisting victim in leather and the small figures that had her their captive “So, you accepted my offer” she said softly “You have bought in Snow White”
“Yes Mother Hubbard” said the dwarf who had knocked on her door “The rewards you offered was most generous”
Mother Hubbard smiled at him. She reached out with the carpet beater and lifted his chin with it’s end so his face looked up at her.
“You may call me Gillian” she said softly “And well done to you. May I inspect your merchandise ?”
The dwarf nodded vigorously and Mother Hubbard stalked slowly around the helpless Snow White. Snow White whimpered through her gag and desperately tried to turn away from Mother Hubbard. But the dwarves kept a tight hold of their reins and she was quite unable to get away from Mother Hubbard’s ferocious gaze.
“Is she quite intact ?” Mother Hubbard’s voice was suddenly sharp again. There were seven nodding heads from the dwarves “She had better be. I know how you dwarves can be about human girls. Randy little devils”
I heard the squeal as if Snow White was standing next to me when Mother Hubbard swatted her hard across the bare backside with her carpet beater. Then everyone was laughing.
“I’ll take her” said Mother Hubbard “Might be fun breaking her myself. Tie her off over by the trough, you’ll find a couple of stakes in the ground, and we’ll see if we can’t find you chaps a little treat to be going on with.”
As I watched the dwarves dragged an even more wildly protesting Snow White over to the trough. She was bucking and fighting them, but once you have lost no the use of your hands it’s a lost cause really, and moments later rough leather straps had her ankles made fast to two stakes already driven into the ground. All she could do was stand there, wrists tied, her breasts thrust out and her legs helplessly spread to await her fate.
As they trooped back to the farmhouse Mother Hubbard had been joined by another figure. Taller, more muscular yet still beautiful in her way she was clad in tight jodhpurs, a demure white blouse and ankle boots with wicked spiked heels. And where Mother Hubbard carried a carpet beater, this athletic figure tapped a riding whip against her thigh.
And at the end of a leash she held tightly was another girl. Her wrists were tied back against her shoulders and her ankles back against her thighs so she was forced to walk on her knees and elbows like some freakish quadruped. She was crying.
“This is Denise” said Old Mother Hubbard to the dwarves, and there was a chorus of respectful greetings. “She is helping me out in my little plan. And this” She gestured towards the girl at the end of Denise’s leash “is pet” Mother Hubbard took the leash from Denise and handed it to one of the dwarves “she’s all yours for now boys. Soft hay in the barn. Knock yourselves out”
Pet let out a squeal as fourteen dwarf hands descended on her and carried her off bodily towards the barn with cries of delight.
“Are you sure that was wise Mother Hubbard ?” I heard Denise ask “After all, they may get a taste for it”
Old Mother Hubbard shrugged and sauntered over to the pegged out form of Snow White.
“And you, my dear” she cooed “Are going to fetch a lovely price to a certain collector. Or at least, you will once I have the rest of the set”
So, it was all true what I had heard. There were contracts out on several of us. Old Mother Hubbard, the finest purveyor of flesh in Fairyland, had a contract to fulfil. And she never went back on a contract.
Casting a helpless glance towards poor Snow White I slipped away into the undergrowth and wondered what to do next. And as I made my way deeper into the forest I heard her muffled scream as the carpet beater was applied to her poor pale arse, and then I could just make out the swish of the whip and the resulting scream before the trees hid all sounds from me and I knew I just had to get away.
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story continues in part two
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