by Jim Proctor
The bell rang just a moment after the tapping stopped. Of course it would. With only one prisoner left, she couldn’t play her game of pretending to choose among them. He opened the door and rushed down the spiral stairs.
“Emmett, we’re taking Laeta to the Chamber of Doors. Please open her cell,” Venefica said.
Emmett crossed the dungeon and produced his keys. He unlocked the door and swung it back. Laeta looked defiantly into Venefica’s eyes as she stepped boldly out of the cell and headed for the steps. Venefica climbed after her, and Emmett hurried to follow.
As always, he grabbed the last torch and continued up into the chamber. Hurrying past the women, he went around the room lighting the torches. Then, stepping behind Venefica, he listened as she gave her well-rehearsed speech. Laeta looked around the room until the witch fell silent. The young woman ran to a door and examined it briefly. Then, moving on, she went from door to door. At the seventh door, she threw it open and ran through.
Venefica screamed in rage and turned on Emmett. “You did something! Three in a row! They knew which door to choose. I don’t know what you have done, but this is your fault!”
Emmett said nothing, staring across the room, avoiding her eyes.
“What have you done?” she asked, glaring at him.
He returned her stare. “I painted the door to freedom yellow. You’re colorblind! Completely colorblind!”
“How could you know which door?” she demanded.
Emmett smiled. “Mistress, you gave me the power to know.”
“I did no such thing!” she yelled, spittle spraying from her lips.
Emmett chuckled. “Oh, but you did. You put a curse on me. I can’t pass through any door leading to freedom. All I had to do was open each door and step across the threshold until I found the one I couldn’t cross.”
Venefica stared at him, her face devoid of any expression. Then, after a moment, it contorted in anger and loathing. Her hand shot out, and Emmett felt himself lift off the ground.
“You traitor! You betrayed me! I’m going to feed you to a demon,” she said as Emmett began floating across the room. As he neared the wall, a door flew open, slamming back against the stone wall. He glided through the opening and down the hallway beyond.
Emmett laughed. “Even death is a form of freedom I will gladly accept!”
Abruptly, he stopped, hovering in place just a few meters beyond the door.
“No, you don’t deserve to die so quickly,” she said.
He began to sail back to the chamber. The door slammed shut, and he floated across the room until he hovered in front of her.
“I don’t care what you do to me,” he said defiantly.
“Really? We’ll see about that,” she said with a smile.
“You broke my spirit a long time ago. I welcome death,” he said.
Venefica laughed. “Oh, my dear Emmett, I can do much worse than kill you. You’ve seen visions lately. Bits and pieces of your memory have returned. I’ve felt them. Yes, you have a son named Eric. Such a sweet boy, too. He’s eighteen years old now. Did you know that?”
Emmett said nothing.
Venefica stepped closer and gently stroked his cheek. “Oh, how I’ve tormented you with my body. You’ve felt the anguish of wanting me and not having me. Just imagine how I could torment an eighteen-year-old boy, full of hormones and desires he doesn’t understand and can’t control.”
“You leave my boy alone!” Emmett yelled.
Venefica laughed. “Oh, Emmett, you poor soul. You see, by betraying me, you have made it necessary for me to replace you. And because of your betrayal, you have chosen your own replacement. Eric will be my next slave. I’m not going to kill you. No, I’m going to put you in a cell, and I’m going to send for your only son. He will never be allowed to see you, but every day I will come to the dungeon and tell you how I torment him. I’ll keep you there until you go mad with guilt and shame. And you know what else? I just might let Eric have me, at least once. And then I might let him come to see you just so he can tell you what you missed.”
With a wave of her hand, all the torches around the room went out. Venefica spun around and began descending the stairs. Emmett floated after her, unable to move. Down they went to the bottom of the stairs where he drifted into a cell. The witch took his keys and locked the door. She waved a hand, and Emmett fell to the cold stone floor.
“I’m going to send for your son, now. I’m sure he’ll be here in time to cook my dinner,” she said. She turned and walked to the stairs. “Do you think he’ll enjoy putting my nightshirt on me?” she asked. Her laughter echoed off the stone, assaulting his ears from every angle as he lay in a heap on the floor.
“What have I done?” he said and began to sob.
* * * *
Emmett awoke, shivering on the floor. Rolling over, he looked through the high, barred window. The narrow light well beyond was dimly lit. Evening was coming on. Chilled to the core, he struggled onto the bed and wrapped himself in the blankets. Still, he shivered. The door, far above, opened and closed. He listened for the sound of her boots, but all was silent. Pushing himself to a sitting position, he looked toward the stairs. A moment later, Venefica, barefooted, stepped around the corner.
“Hello, Emmett, dear. I have good news for you. My new slave has arrived. I’ve explained his duties to him, and he’s in the kitchen preparing dinner at this very moment. He looks a lot like you. I’m going to enjoy tormenting him.”
“Let him go. Please, I beg you,” Emmett said.
Venefica laughed as she stepped close to the bars. “Oh, Emmett, surely you didn’t think you could cross me and get away without a fitting punishment.”
Emmett jumped up and ran toward her, but he froze halfway. Every nerve in his body coursed with searing pain as he fell to the floor, writhing and screaming.
“You let me down, Emmett. I trusted you, and you betrayed me. Now your son will pay the price.”
The pain stopped, and Emmett lost consciousness.
He awoke sometime later, shivering again. He was alone. With some effort, he dragged himself onto the bed. Wrapping himself in the blankets again, he fell asleep.
* * * *
“Eric, dear, you really are going to have to do a lot better. That was the worst meal I’ve had in years,” Venefica said.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Eric replied.
The witch sighed. “I told you, you will address me as mistress, not ma’am!”
“Yes, mistress. I’m sorry, mistress.”
“Prepare a serving for my guest, then put it on a tray with a large glass of cold water and a spoon. No fork or knife, Eric,” she said.
“Yes, mistress,” he said. He turned and dashed into the kitchen.
Venefica pushed back her chair and stood in the archway between the dining room and kitchen. Eric looked at her, his eyes moving up and down her body. Then, he quickly turned away and went back to work. Venefica smiled.
When the tray was ready, Eric picked it up and looked at Venefica expectantly.
“Leave the tray on the counter, Eric, and come with me,” she said. She turned and walked away, hearing Eric put the tray down and rush after her. At the end of a hallway, she opened a door into a bedroom.
“Come in, Eric. I need your help changing into my boots.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Pointing, she said, “In my closet, get my boots with the metal plates on the soles.”
Venefica sat on the edge of the bed and hiked the hem of her dress nearly to the tops of her thighs. Eric swallowed and stared.
“Eric, my boots,” she said.
Rushing to the closet, he opened the door and found the boots. Holding them to his chest, he went and stood in front of her, eyes moving all over her perfect thighs.
Venefica smiled, watching him ogle her. After a moment, Eric looked into her eyes. He blushed, and he quickly looked down.
“Take off my shoes,” she said.
Eric
dropped to his knees and set the boots down. She extended one leg, and Eric froze as his eyes ran up her leg to…
“Eric!”
Turning an even deeper shade of red, he quickly grasped her shoe, untied it, and began loosening the lace. Slipping the shoe off, he set it down. He hesitated a moment. Then, to her surprise and delight, he began to gently massage her foot. His efforts were clumsy and unskilled, but she moaned softly, knowing it would stoke his desire. Oh yes, she could feel his growing desire.
After several minutes, he lowered her foot to the floor and picked up her other leg. Soon, he had the shoe off and began massaging her other foot. She decided to turn up his desire even more. Watching through half-closed eyes, she began to breathe deeply and rapidly, occasionally letting out another soft moan. His hands faltered as his eyes wandered all over her body. And now, I throw cold water onto his little fantasy.
“Put my boots on me, Eric. My guest needs his dinner.”
With an expression of mixed shock and disappointment, he picked up a boot, slipped it over her foot, and cautiously pushed until her heel slipped into place. Laying the boot on his leg, he tightened the lace and tied it. Moments later, he had the other boot on and tied, then looked up at her, awaiting further instruction.
“Thank you, Eric. That was very nice. You may go and have your dinner now,” she said.
“What about your guest? I need to take his meal to him,” he said.
“You just go and have your dinner at the kitchen table, dear. I’ll take dinner to my guest,” she said. “And when you have finished eating, you need to clean the dining room and kitchen, and wash all the dishes.”
“Yes, mistress,” he said. Eyeing her exquisite thighs… and more… one last time, he began to stand, but quickly turned around, facing away from her before straightening up. Venefica laughed. Eric, feeling the heat in his face and the throbbing elsewhere, rushed out of the room and down the hall. Her laughter stung him as he hurried away. When she reached the kitchen, Eric was sitting at the table, eating dinner. He looked at her briefly before turning his gaze to the window. Without a word, she picked up the tray and walked back through the dining room. Her boots tapped on the steps as she made her way to the dungeon.
“Wake up, Emmett. I’ve brought you your dinner,” Venefica said.
Emmett stirred, looked around the room, and then pushed himself up to a sitting position.
“Where is my son?” he asked when he finally saw her standing at his door.
“He’s in the kitchen having his dinner. He will not be permitted down here. Not yet, anyway. I don’t want you putting ideas into my new slave’s head. He’s a bundle of raging hormones, and he’s quite physically fit. You know, when I finally let him have me, I’m probably going to enjoy it more than he will.”
“Leave my son alone,” Emmett said.
Venefica smiled. “Oh, Emmett, don’t be jealous.”
“Leave him alone!” he yelled.
“Oh, I’ve already begun tormenting him. I think I’ll continue to tease him until he’s ready to explode. Maybe then I’ll give in and let him have me. Then, I might let him come down here and tell you all about it,” she said and began to laugh.
Setting the bowl and the cup on the shelf in the door, she slid the tray under the bars. Turning, she hurried to the stairs and was gone, boots tapping as she ascended, her laughter fading away as she went.
When she reached the kitchen, Eric was piling a second serving on his plate. He looked at her and froze.
“Go ahead, Eric. Have as much as you need. I want you to build up your strength for later,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to my bedroom to read. When you have finished eating and cleaning up, come and see me. I’ll need your services.”
The serving spoon fell from Eric’s hand, hitting the floor with a clang.
Venefica laughed as she turned and headed toward her bedroom. As she passed the door onto the spiral staircase, she paused. Taking out her keys, she locked the door and then continued to her room.
* * * *
Venefica lay on her bed, reading. Hearing Eric's footsteps approaching, she closed the book and set it on the nightstand. There was a soft knock on the door.
“Come in, Eric,” she said.
The door opened, and Eric took one tentative step into the room.
“I’ve finished all the cleaning. You said you needed me,” he said, his voice cracking.
Venefica smiled. “Yes, Eric. I can’t manage my dress by myself. I can’t reach the zipper, you see.” She slid off the bed and stood. “Come here.”
Eric stepped toward her.
“Closer,” she said.
He stepped within arm’s reach of her. She gathered her hair in her hand and turned around. “Unzip me, Eric.” She felt his hands tremble as he slowly unzipped her dress. She turned around and let her hair fall down her back. Then, smiling, she pushed the dress off her shoulders and let it slide down her body into a heap on the floor. She hadn’t worn anything beneath.
Eric's gaze moved up and down her body. After a moment, he looked into her eyes, blushed, and turned away.
Reaching out, she touched his chin and gently turned his face toward hers. Their eyes met, and she saw his blush deepen. Stroking his cheek with her palm, she felt the heat beneath his skin.
Stepping out of the dress, she said, “Pick up my dress and lay it across the back of the chair by the door. Tomorrow, I will show you how the laundry system works.”
Bending down, he grasped the dress, and froze when her hand touched the back of his head. She ran her fingers through his hair. She sensed his excitement and withdrew her hand. Picking up the dress, he went and draped it over the chair. Coming back to stand in front of her, he waited to see what she would do next.
“I need a nightgown from the closet. Whatever color you choose,” she said.
Eric went to the closet, opened the door, and looked in. Everything was black. Every dress, every nightgown, every boot, and every shoe. All black. Was this a test? Was she watching to see what he would do? He chose a nightgown, took it off its hanger, and returned to her,
“Will this be all right, mistress?” he asked in a quavering voice.
“That’s my favorite color, Eric.” She held her arms straight out toward him.
He stared at her.
“You need to put the it on me, Eric,” she said. “Gather the hem, and then slip it over my arms. When I raise my arms over my head, you pull the hem down over my body.”
Eric looked at the nightgown for a moment, and then collected the hem in his hands. Slipping it over her arms, he waited as she worked her hands into the sleeves. She raised her arms, and he lifted the hem over her head and pulled it slowly down her body. She felt his fingers slide along her skin as he worked the nightgown past her curves. Eric was on his knees before her as he pulled the hem down her thighs.
“Thank you, Eric. That will be all,” she said.
His face was a mask of confusion and disappointment as he got to his feet. Venefica turned, and climbed into bed, pulling up the covers.
“That will be all, I said.”
Eric blinked, then turned and stepped into the hallway.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Venefica said. “Tomorrow morning after breakfast, I have a door that needs to be painted.”
“Yes, mistress,” Eric said. With a last, longing look at her, he pulled the door closed.
Venefica laughed.
Chapter 20
Dolus slowly brought the airship over the pad, holding it in position as he vented helium from the central bag. The ship descended, hitting the platform hard. Venandi rushed into the wheelhouse.
“Dolus, you idiot! I’ve told you to be careful when venting.”
“I’m sorry, sir. The vent valve stuck open. I’ll work on it while we’re in port,” Dolus said.
Venandi glared. “You do that. But first, check the hull for damage. Go through the engine room carefully and make sure nothing was knocked l
oose. I’m going to walk around the port and talk to some of the other airship crews. I want to see if anyone knows where Beaph lives. We’ve been up and down the coast looking for him for five days, and we have nothing to show for it.”
“You’ve talked to crews at all the ports we’ve visited,” Dolus said.
“And I’ll talk to the crews here, too!”
“Yes, sir,” Dolus replied.
“Help me toss the lines out and get the ship tied down,” Venandi said.
Dolus followed the captain out onto the deck and began throwing mooring lines over the sides.
Several minutes later, with the ship secured, Venandi set off across the port while Dolus began examining the hull for damage.
Venandi reached the next pad where a large passenger airship was tied up. A ship like this would have a captain, a first mate, one or two pilots, as well as stewards and a cook. With a crew of that size, it was a pretty safe bet that the first mate would slack off as soon as the captain was out of sight. He would promise the captain that things would get done, and then he’d delegate everything to his underlings.
Venandi studied the people milling around the airship. One man was doing a lot of pointing and barking out orders—probably the ship’s captain. Beside him was another man who seemed to be trying to look important while staying out of the captain’s way—likely the first mate. He would be the man to talk to once the captain left the area. Captains weren’t generally forthcoming with information when questioned by strangers. First mates were more talkative when their captain went away. They tended to be self-important, considering themselves just one step away from being a captain without having much in the way of real authority aboard ship. They were the ones who would tell you where their wealthy, invalid grandmother lived in exchange for a modest bribe. If money didn’t work, offering to buy the mate a drink or four often did. They were especially loose with information after several drinks. Venandi waited, being careful to move about casually so as not to appear to be watching the crew. Soon, the captain finished giving orders and walked away toward the town. The first mate, looking both annoyed and relieved, began yelling at other crew members as well as port workers assigned to their pad. Then, having relieved his own stress, he sat on a crate and watched as everyone worked. Venandi walked along the pad and approached the man.
