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An owl hooted outside as Rachel heard Sera finally saying good-bye to the last of the

women. The door closed, and the silence extended through the room. Rachel didn’t make

the effort to open her eyelids to see what Sera was going to do now. Nothing mattered

anymore, not even that she was still wrapped up in ropes and hanging from the ceiling

like a chrysalis. Exhausted, Rachel only longed for sleep. 

Sera hadn’t been kidding. Those three women had been here to help the sorceress train

Rachel. Throughout the day Rachel had learned Sera’s friends’ names by yelling them until

her throat was as raw as sandpaper, and even then Rachel had kept murmuring them

hoarsely over and over again. 

Irina, the witch who’d asked Rachel to address her as Mistress, had shown Rachel all the

effects a rope had on a feminine body. Rachel had been bound, gagged, and hung,

defenseless, from the ceiling. She had been a rag doll in their hands, exposed to whatever

they wanted to do with her, to her. Sometimes they had left her dangling at the verge of

an orgasm, ignoring or mocking her, or made her plead for the right to come. Could you

come with a silk rope between your nether lips and buttocks, while you swung alone back

and forth? The answer was yes. Rachel knew that now, and how she knew! 

The dark-skinned Alanna, with those weird yellow reptilian eyes, was the one to decide

the punishment each time Rachel couldn’t withhold her orgasm, when Rachel didn’t immediately obey the orders, when Rachel’s pose was not the correct one, when Rachel spoke or moaned or cried without permission, and for whatever other pet rule Rachel broke during the day. 

The serpent-shifter knew exactly how to make Rachel implore her for compassion, walking on the fine line between pain and pleasure, and not once had the woman needed more than the implacable rattle tail, the teasing fingernails, or the extremely fine fangs. 

Never had Rachel considered before how much delight the exact amount of pain could cause. Her nipples were sore. Her ass… Well, she probably wouldn’t be able to sit anytime soon. To be honest she didn’t believe she would be able to do anything, as she almost couldn’t feel her body anymore. However, knowing what she knew now, she wouldn’t change this experience. 

In spite of hanging from the ceiling, with her muscles sore, without strength, and as exhausted as she had ever been in her life, Rachel felt an absolute calmness. Nothing else mattered to her at the moment, not what people thought about her, not her responsibilities as the king’s daughter, not her future; only the inner peace filling her as she swung slightly in the air. 

The blonde witch had also been the one who had taught Rachel the whole posturing shit. Those women were real maniacs about postures. Not even as a princess had Rachel needed to pay as much attention to what, when, and how to do things! Rachel had to learn how to crawl on all fours beside her Mistress, to kneel in the right way, to eat with grace on the floor, how to offer her ass for a punishment or for pleasure… The list was as long as a bedsheet. 

The eldest one—the druid who’d been telling Sera how bad she considered the idea to take Rachel as a pet to the Moon Festival—was an expert with herbs and concoctions. Rachel shuddered as she remembered the woman’s ointments and magic, and how the druid had used them. For what had seemed hours, Rachel had been burning in fire, in ice, in raw need, and in an ecstasy so intense that it was almost impossible to bear. Rachel’s whole being had been vibrating in ecstasy until not one logical thought was left inside her mind, only sensations, bliss, and lust. 

Sera had been the one Rachel had liked the most. Even in the wildest moments—when Rachel had thought she wouldn’t be able to survive those intense feelings—Sera’s voice was there, soothing and reassuring, letting Rachel know she was safe. 

Cool hands brushed against Rachel’s skin while disentangling the ropes from her limbs. The cold felt good. Rachel opened her eyes to stare straight into Sera’s beautiful gray ones. 

The sorceress’s voice was gentle. “You did well today, princess.” 

“You expected me to run home with my tail between my legs,” Rachel accused Sera, suspecting the sorceress’s plan since she had seen the woman’s mocking glare in the morning. 

“And what a beautiful tail it would have been.” The sorceress chuckled, freeing Rachel’s right leg. 

“I knew you tried to scare me off on purpose!” 

“I’ve never hidden that I don’t want you to finish your training, have I?” the sorceress asked. 

Rachel’s knees buckled as soon as her left foot touched the floor and her weight wasn’t held by the ropes anymore. Sera’s arms were immediately there to support Rachel. 

“I told you I could do it,” Rachel murmured, letting herself fall against Sera. 

“Yes, today you were able to go through the training.” 

The sorceress helped Rachel to a bathtub she had already prepared before the fireplace. Rachel climbed in on unstable legs. A sigh escaped her as she lowered herself into the warm, soothing water. Rachel’s head fell back, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the rich fragrance of lavender and rosemary. 

“Here.” Sera put a cup in Rachel’s hands. “It will mitigate your hoarseness.” 

“You still don’t believe I’m able to act as your pet.” Rachel took a sip of the sweet tea. 

“I’ll admit that you’ve surprised me today, but we’ve just begun with your training. A week can be a long time.” 

“Why are you against it? What does it matter to you what happens to me if they catch me at the Moon Festival?” Rachel was tired, but she wanted to understand the sorceress. 

“Because whatever happens to you would be my responsibility?” Sera asked instead of affirming. 

“It isn’t just that, is it?” Rachel stared straight at Sera. “You don’t want me as your pet. What I can’t understand is why. My father has promised you a very generous reward for the training and even more if I come out unscathed from this adventure.” 

Sera stopped midway in the process of emptying another cauldron of hot water in the bathtub. 

“Who said I didn’t want you as a pet?” the sorceress asked, finishing her task without looking at Rachel. 

“Tell me the truth!” 

The sorceress put down the cauldron. “I want a real pet, not a victim or someone acting as one.” 

“What’s the difference for you?” Rachel frowned. 

“A real pet would be mine to do as I wished. She would give herself over to me without thinking. Entirely, in body and mind, not because of any ulterior motive, but because she wanted to be owned by me and her greatest wish would be to please me.” 

Both of them fell silent. Rachel studied the sorceress from the corner of her eye. The woman had a fluid elegance to her movements, even when doing the most basic of the chores. There wasn’t a trace of the soft, feminine submissiveness Rachel usually observed in the servants at her father’s castle or other noblewomen at court. Everything in Sera shouted discipline and authority. How would it feel to be the sorceress’s real pet? To not be her own but Sera’s? 
 

Copyright © Noa Xireau