Chapter 11: The Heart of the Warrior

Notes: Thanks to b0b for beta-reading this!

Wednesday, January 22nd

"I wish my sister was healed!" Kyle demanded, cradling Fatima's head on his lap.

Aaliyah closed her eyes, shuddering, "It's an enchantment. It's beyond the scope of my power."

"So you could heal her if she was hurt?"

She shook her head. "Healing isn't hearth or harem."

"And neither is breaking a spell?"

"No," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I tried, but my father's commands still restrict my powers."

"So disobey him! You come from some old-school culture. Shouldn't your husband supersede your father?"

"But my father is the Sheikh of the Jann Tribe. His word carries the weight of law." A tear ran down her dusky cheek. "I am so sorry, my love."

Kyle stroked his sister's forehead. "What are we going to do?"

"We have to leave, Kyle. And we cannot leave any evidence we were here," Britney calmly said, her hand gripping Phillipa Stoddard's shoulder, forcing the Witch to stay on her knees.

Kyle looked up from his sleeping sister's side. "What?"

"We cannot stay here, Kyle. Our fight was loud and noisy. Even as remote as this cabin is, people must have seen the light from the Elemental and heard it's roar. We cannot leave any evidence behind. Look around. There are four dead here. We killed them. The police will investigate."

"Right," Kyle nodded, taking a deep breath. His sister-wife barely seemed to be breathing and it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

"She'll be fine, my love," Aaliyah whispered, kneeling on the opposite side. "We can do nothing for her now. And we cannot help her if we're under arrest."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess we need to wipe down fingerprints and stuff."

Aaliyah cocked her head, using her powers to understand what he said. "Right. Leave that to me." With a wave of her hand, dust in the cabin formed into little, squat men that set about scrubbing the house. "There," she nodded.

"The outside shouldn't be that bad, it a mess out there," Kyle said, standing up. "I'll go get my car and..." His face fell; his car was wrecked. "That's going to be a problem."

"Not really," Fumi said; his Japanese girlfriend leaned against the doorway. "You can just have the earth swallow it up like you did with the bear."

"So how are we getting out of here then? We can't call for a cab, and we don't want to leave any traces we were here."

"How did you get here, Phillipa?" questioned Britney.

"I drove," the girl muttered, looking at the floor. "My car's parked around back. With the..." she swallowed, glancing at the corpses of Ms. Franklin and Rashawn. "With their cars."

"Then we'll crowd her car to get home," Fumi said "Best to leave no evidence she was ever here as well."

"Do we bury their bodies?" Aaliyah asked.

Kyle glanced at Ms. Franklin and shuddered. He had killed her in the heat of the moment, but seeing her cooling body lying next to her decapitated head disturbed him. "No. They deserve to be found. Think of their families."

"What do we do about Sable?" Britney asked. "I can keep one witch in check, but not two. Perhaps we should just slit her throat. What is one more body?"

Aaliyah and Kyle both gave Britney a horrified glance. He thought he had known his best friend, but there was a dark side to her. "No. That's wrong. Aaliyah, I'll wish her to be one of my harem."

Aaliyah concentrated, then frowned. "It didn't work."

"Our amulet's protect us," Phillipa answered, "from such blatant domination. Hecate is a jealous goddess."

"Fine, I'll go take hers off," Kyle said, standing up.

He walked outside the cabin. Sable was gone. His stomach sank; he had left her lying right there unconscious. Fumi stepped up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Something was clutched in her other hand; an envelope.

"We can't stay long, Kyle," she whispered. "She's gone. We need to clean up fast. Let's go take care of your car."

"Yeah." He glanced at the letter.

She held it up to him. "From Christy. She gave me this before she left."

Emotions tangled inside of him. Aaliyah was safe, and he wanted to try and forgive Christy, he still loved her, but she had betrayed them. He needed to talk to her, to try and figure out this mess. His mouth tasted like ash; he took the envelop and stuck it in his back pocket.

"Let's take care of my car," he sighed.

His car still was on the bridge, crashed into the side. Bits of broken glass and plastic strew across it the wooden deck and antifreeze filled the air with a sweet-sickly smell and dripped through the gaps in the wood.

"We have to move it," Kyle said.

"Put it in neutral and release the parking brake," Fumi said. "I'll move it."

Kyle glanced at her bow, nodded, and quickly followed her instructions.

Fumi held her bow up; green light flared in the metal. Wind rushed around them and seemed to grow and swirl around the car, whipping into a vortex. Small debris skittered across the ground, then slowly spun about into the air. Metal groaned, the car shifted as a small tornado swirled about it. His girlfriend focused hard, her eyes narrowing and sweat beading her forehead. The car gave another groan, then rolled backwards.

"Holy shit, that's amazing!"

"Yeah," Fumi answered, her voice tight with strain.

The car kept rolling backwards, the bridge swaying as the wind whipped about its trusses. Kyle's stomach lurched and he hoped Fumi didn't dump them into the river below. But he had faith in her. His car reached the gravel road and she kept pushing it until the entire car rested on the road, then the wind dissipated, debris raining down.

"That was hard," she gasped.

Kyle hugged her, lifting her up and spinning around. She smelled so wonderful, like lilies and his cock hardened. He kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her as his hand grasped her breasts. He had to fuck her right now. His cock was a slab of steel. His mind screamed some warning, but that didn't matter; Fumi was so lithe and—

"No!" she shouted, pushing away. "No, Kyle!"

He gasped for air, his face flushed as she backed away. "Right," he muttered, regaining some control over himself. "I don't want to die."

She flinched. "I'm sorry." Tears ran down her eyes. "In the morning, I'm going to find that spirit Fatima told me about, Niqualmie, and see if there is a way we can be together that way."

"And if there's not?"

"We'll never see each other again." A sob escaped her and tears ran down her cheeks. "I can't take the chance of losing control and killing you, Kyle."

Another thing taken from him. Christy's gone, Fatima's unconscious, and now Fumi was leaving, maybe forever. "Let's bury the car," Kyle grunted, turning away and concentrating on his sword. The ground opened up, his car disappeared, crashing into the pit. Fumi sent a wind to blow all the small pieces of his car down into the thirty-foot deep hole, then he closed it up.

Neither noticed the license plate lying in the shadows of one of the bridge's trusses

Britney pulled Phillipa's car in front of Kyle's home.

"My mom's going to kill me," Kyle muttered, opening the door. He grabbed his little sister's unconscious form, cradling her gently in his arms. He did love her a lot. "I'll see you tomorrow, Britney, if I still live."

"You will," she answered. "Good night."

"Good night, Britney," Aaliyah whispered, then followed her husband towards the house.

Britney pulled the car away, glancing over at Phillipa sitting in the passenger seat, her hands tied in front of her and a gag about her lips. For the first time in her life, lust stirred Britney's cock as she gazed at the fearful witch.

"You are my prize," Britney cooed, reaching over to cup her Phillipa's round face, turning her so she could gaze at her beautiful, hazel eyes. "I will treasure you, once you have been trained properly."

A shiver passed through Phillipa and Britney could smell the fear oozing off of her. That fanned her ardor more. She would enjoy bending Phillipa to her will.

Britney parked Phillipa's car in her driveway, got out, and walked around the car to pull the witch out and led her to the front door. She quickly unlocked her doors and ushered the bound girl inside her house before anyone saw.

"What is going on?" gasped her human mom. "Why are you bringing home a tied up girl, Britney?"

"What is all the ruckus, Franny," her Rakshasa mother asked, sauntering in like a graceful lioness from the kitchen, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Our daughter has brought home a tied-up girl," huffed Mom. "Look at the poor thing, Abigail, she's scared."

"She is my prize," Britney answered, stroking the girl's cheeks.

"Ahh," her Mother nodded, understanding in her green eyes. All Rakshasas had green eyes. "She is the one, Britney?"

"Yes, Mother," she answered, stroking the bound Phillipa's cheeks. "She is beautiful."

"I will speak with Franny."

"What is going on, Abigail?"

Her mother placed a comforting arm around her mom's shoulders, leaning in to kiss her on the cheeks. "You know how we work. I took you as my prize, and our daughter has taken this girl as hers."

"You didn't tie me up!"

"I would have if you were not so willing," purred Mother, then she licked Mom's cheek. "Come on, I need satisfaction. Let us leave our daughter to her fun."

"Okay," Mom meekly answered, and let herself be led upstairs.

Her bedroom was on the first floor, and Britney marched Phillipa through the living room and a short hallway to reach it. Her room was neat and orderly, and she shoved the bound girl onto her bed, then pulled off her dirty top and wiggled out of her pants; her cock rose up hard from her thick, brown bush. Instead of having a clitoris, Britney had a cock, though no balls, and beneath it was a fully functional pussy. Phillipa's eyes were locked on her dick.

"Do you like it?"

Phillipa shook her head. "You will." She licked her lips and the bound girl recoiled from her hunger; it made her cock harder.

Britney went to her closet, and pulled out a plain, cardboard box. Phillipa's fear grew as Britney took out the objects one at a time: a leather flail, a wooden paddle, a carefully coiled hemp rope, nipple clamps, pink-furred handcuffs, a ball gag, a butt plug, a leather collar, iron rings, and piercing needles. Britney savored the scent of her fear, aching to stroke her cock and finger her pussy.

Not yet.

"I have been dreaming of the day when I found my prize," Britney purred. "I would never have thought it would be you, Phillipa. But seeing you shivering in fear awakened something inside me."

She walked to the girl, removing her gag.

"What are you going to do to me?" shivered Phillipa.

"I'm going to break you and tame you."

She untied Phillipa's bounds. The girl tried to run; Britney's hand shot out and grasped the girl by the shoulder, yanking her back to the bed. Then she ripped the girl's blouse, the fabric easily tearing beneath Britney's strength.

"Help!" Phillipa cried. "Someone, help me!"

"No one can hear you," purred Britney. "Well, my mothers can, but they will not help you.

Britney admired her round breasts with upswept, pink nipples. Then she tore the pants off the girl, leaving her naked and trembling on her bed while she fetched the rope. She had always wanted to tie up a woman—she had seen her mother tie up her mom many times—and her hand trembled as she loped complicated knots around Phillipa's legs, up her torso, around her breasts, squeezing them together—so pretty—then binding her arms to her side, her hands at the small of her back.

"You are such a gorgeous creature," Britney purred, stroking her dark hair.

"Please," sobbed Phillipa. "Let me go. I won't tell."

"Yes, you will."

"I'll curse you," she hissed. "Hecate..."

Britney slapped her. "You will not pray to that foul goddess without my permission."

She drew in her breath, glaring at Britney. So she slapped Phillipa harder, reddening her cheeks. A tear ran down the girl's eyes.

"Will you submit and be my prize?" Britney asked.

"What does that mean," she mumbled.

"I will take you as my mate and love you forever."

"Fuck that!"

Slap!

"You will address me as Mistress until I tell you otherwise, Prize!"

"Bitch!"

Slap!

"I can keep this up all night."

A sullen glare was her answer.

"Good." Britney walked to her BDSM collection and picked up the nipple clamps. "Do you know what these are?" she asked, holding them up and working them open and close.

"No."

"No, what?"

"No..." Britney raised her hand. " ... Mistress."

"Nipple clamps," Britney answered.

Hazel eyes widened. "Oh, no! You're not going to?"

She gasped as Britney clamped the first one on her right nipple, squeezing the pink nub between the metal teeth. She screamed in pain when the second one clamped her left nipple. Britney smiled, and stroked her cock.

"Do you want me to take them off?"

"Yes!" moaned the girl. "Please! Please, Mistress!"

"Beg me to fuck you," Britney answered.

"What?"

"Beg for me to stick my hard cock into your pussy," Britney purred, tugging on a nipple clamp.

"Never!"

"Okay," Britney smiled, and picked up a the ball gag. "Time for bed, I think."

"You're not going to take them off, Mistress?" sobbed the girl. "They hurt."

"I know. Pain is a good conditioner." Britney walked to the bed, the ball gag stretched between her hands. "Just ask me to fuck you, and they come off."

"No! I'm not going to let some tranny freak fuck me!"

Britney grasped her chin, and pushed the ball gag towards her mouth.

"No, wait!" she begged. "Are you really going to make me sleep like this?"

"Of course."

"You don't need to gag me."

"I cannot have you casting spells while I am sleeping."

"But..." A tear leaked down her face. "How can I ask you to take off my nipple clamps if I'm gagged?"

"You mean, in the middle of the night, you might reconsider and want me to fuck you?"

"Maybe," she whispered.

"Then you better ask now, otherwise I am going to bed."

Her lip quivered. "Please, Mistress."

"Please, what?"

"Fuck me."

"With my freaky, tranny cock?"

"Yes."

"I am not a tranny," Britney hissed, and pushed the ball gag towards her mouth. "I am a hermaphrodite."

"I'm sorry, Mistress," she begged. "Please fuck me with your wonderfully beautiful, hermaphrodite cock."

Britney manhandled her onto her stomach and slapped her cute ass, mounting her prize.

"You said you'd take them off!" she protested. "Please, Mistress, they hurt."

"After you have climaxed on my cock and made me orgasm," Britney promised.

"That's not—"

Britney slapped her perky ass. "I said I would remove them after you agreed, I did not say when I would remove them. Now if you are going to whine, I will insert the ball gag and you can stay like that all night."

"I'm sorry." Britney raised her hand to slap her ass. "Mistress!" she quickly squeaked.

"So you want me to fuck your cunt and, after we have both orgasmed, remove your nipple clamps?"

"Yes, Mistress," she nodded.

Britney smiled, laying her naked body across Phillipa's bound form, the hemp rope rough on Britney's breasts and belly as she pressed her cock between the bound teen's legs. It was tight between her thighs because of the bonds, and Britney shuddered as she slid between her legs trying to find her pussy.

"Fuck!" she snapped, growing impatient to taste her first pussy.

She grabbed a pillow, lifted Phillipa up, and shoved it beneath her belly. The teen's pussy was visible peaking between her thighs, covered in a thick, black bush, and damp. Despite all her protests, Phillipa was responding to her helplessness. Britney inhaled deeply, delighting in all the wonderful fragrances that mixed together to form Phillipa's unique scent of arousal.

Britney pressed forward, nudging her pussy lips; it felt so wonderful. She jabbed in; Phillipa let out a low moan. Britney had never experienced something so wonderful before. She had masturbated her cock before, but it paled compared to being wrapped around the tight, hot, and wet flesh of Phillipa's sheath.