“Come, weary traveler, and share my fire.”

The voice is soft and musical, and I can’t help but stop. There, down a path off the side of the road, a fire is nestled in a grove of trees. The warmth beckons me, drawing me from the darkening road and into the comforting glow of the grove. At the fire is a woman, all covered up in a brown traveling cloak. I approach, careful to avoid stepping on the mushroom circle as I do so; it’s a silly superstition, but the sun is setting, and it pays to be cautious.

Well, as cautious as one can be when sitting at a stranger’s fire out on the road like this. There are unspoken rules to this sort of thing; hospitality, and mutual agreements of non-aggression. If the one calling me were a man, I would be less likely to stop, but for a woman? I’m willing to take the risk, rather than walk the last three miles in the dark.

“Welcome, and be seated. Would you care to share your name?” The woman asks, voice lilting in the most wonderful way.

“Oh, yeah, I’m...” I trail off, remembering another story from my mother. Strange witches who can steal names, and enchant you with a single strand of hair. Nervously, I brush my blonde locks behind my ears, and smile. “I’m Alisa.”

“A pleasure, miss Alisa.” The woman bows her head. “My name is Lavender. Would you care for something to drink?”

She gestures at the fire, and only now do I notice the odd wooden cups resting on the stone ring. They’re filled with a clear liquid that shines orange in the warm light. I nod slowly, and accept a cup between my gloved hands. I watch as Lavender picks up the other cup for herself, and takes a healthy sip.

Following her example, I take a small sip from my drink. Flavor spills across my tongue, searing my taste buds with pure pleasure. I inhale sharply, and take a second, larger drink. It’s even better this time, spreading warm through my whole body as I swallow. Pins and needles of sensation dance across my arms, down to the very tips of my fingers.

“You like it?” she asks amusedly.

“It’s very good.” I nod eagerly, before taking another drink. A fresh wave of heat washes over me, curling and settling in my core even as it radiates out to my extremities. I wiggle my toes in my boots, reveling in the sensation of the leather against my skin.

“It’s my father’s recipe.” Lavender preens, and takes a sip as I drain my cup. Any worries I had about sharing a fire melt away as the buzz reaches my forehead. “Are you hungry?”

I nod, and fumble for my bag. Rations aren’t the best eating, but it’s polite to share what you have when stopping at a fire. As I’m clumsily digging through my pack, she gently undoes the draw string of her cloak, opening it to reveal a soft, light green dress. My eyes widen as she reaches into an inner pocket, and removes a small pouch.

“It’s not much, but I have some biscuits from home.” From the pouch, she produces four beautiful pastries, finer than any I’ve ever eaten in my life. 

I’m almost afraid to ask her station, or why she’s alone in the woods. Alarm bells ring dully in my mind. Hospitality hasn’t been broken. I’m okay, even if things are increasingly strange.

“All I have are some dried nuts and fruit,” I say apologetically. I pull a small pouch out of my traveling bag, and produce the meager food. She smiles, and holds out a delicate hand.

“I would be happy to share a biscuit for some of your nuts and fruit.”

My movements are clumsy, and my ability to grasp strangely limited. I tug off my gloves, and place half the nuts and fruit into her palm, before accepting a biscuit. The first bite is heaven, and the second somehow better. I moan through a mouthful of food, and my host chuckles.

“Enjoying yourself?” She asks, and I nod eagerly as the rest of my biscuit vanishes in an instant.

Lavender nibbles one of her pastries, then selects a single nut from her palm. She eats it, and lets out a content hum. I eat a few of my own nuts, but I can’t stop staring at her other biscuits, resting on her lap and waiting to be consumed. She’s sitting on the ground, legs tucked gracefully under her, and dress pooling on the ground. Her feet are bare, for some reason, but asking feels less important than eating another biscuit. Especially with how my own food suddenly tastes more like ash than fruit.

She clears her throat, and I look up guiltily. With an indulgent smile, Lavender holds out another biscuit. I take it, and moan through another sinful bite. The warmth in my gut is burning almost as hot as the fire now, and my head feels fuzzy and comfortable in the way it can only after a warm meal. I feel like I’ve eaten four times as much as I have, but somehow no memory is as satisfying.

“It’s rather warm, is it not?” Lavender says, slipping off her cloak to reveal bare shoulders covered in freckles. 

I nod, forcing myself to meet her eyes. They’re green, like emeralds, and framed by golden-blonde hair. I self-consciously fiddle with my own straw-blonde hair, and tug at my cloak to let some air in.

She hands me another biscuit, and produces a flask of liquid to refill my cup. I consume it all gratefully, head swimming through a pleasant haze. Everything feels more, somehow. Each brush of my skin against my clothes, each breath I take, every breeze that zips through the grove, and her hands resting on my shoulders. When did Lavender get behind me?

“Lavender?” I trip over my tongue as I speak, and giggle at the absurdity of it.

“You’re so warm,” she purrs, fingers tracing circles on me. I shiver, and nod again. “Let me help you with that.”

Deft fingers unfasten my cloak, and the heavy fabric falls around me. Her hands press against my rough tunic, and my breath hitches at the pressure. “Oh,” I breathe out, leaning into her touch on an impulse I don’t recognize.

“Better?” she asks, one hand straying to the string near my collar. I nod again, and hold my breath as she touches the skin just below my neck. Sparks race across my body at her touch, and I half close my eyes to bask in the sensation.

She doesn’t ask before loosening the knot, and sliding a hand down the front of my shirt.

“Oh, you’re just wonderful,” she coos, one hand groping at my breasts, while the other tugs my shirt down my arms, pinning them in place. I squirm as my torso is exposed, only to freeze when she presses her chest against my back. Her dress is thin, so much so that I can feel her hard nipples pressing against me through the wisp of fabric.

“What are you doing?” I ask distantly. I don’t want her to stop. I want more. As much as she can give me.

“Having some fun,” Lavender whispers into my ear. She nibbles my lobe, and I squeak with pleasure. Every touch and motion makes me feel so much more. I can hardly stand it. “Do you want the last biscuit?”

I nod eagerly, and she holds it to my lips. I bite into it, chewing slowly to drag out the taste as long as possible. She starts to withdraw, and I lean forward to follow, wrapping my lips around her fingers, desperately chasing the crumbs stuck to her skin. She chuckles, and dips her other hand down to my trousers, and slowly begins to undo that knot holding them up.

“Payment,” she whispers.

I can’t deny her, even if I wanted to.

My pants slide down my legs, revealing my short blonde bush and soaking wet pussy. I kick off my shoes as well, figuring that she doesn’t want me to wear them either. Not if she’s going to all this trouble to strip me.

“Such a good pet.” Her praise sends another thrill through me, and I close my eyes completely as she pulls my shirt off the rest of the way.

The exposure barely registers, save for the way my skin shivers against the cool breeze. The waxing moon shines above us, lighting what the fire doesn’t already illuminate. Lavender steps around me, my clothes in hand, and smiles.

“Do you want more?” she asks, and I know she means food and drink. I nod, words failing to materialize. She steps back to her cloak, and picks up the flask. “Come here then, pet.”

I try to stand, only to stumble back to my knees. She chuckles, but says nothing. My cheeks burn, and my stomach flips. The soft grass is nice under my hands and knees. There are no rocks, or sharp sticks, just grass and leaves. I swallow down my pride, and crawl towards her on all fours, head swimming with humiliation and excitement.

“Good girl.” She holds the flask to my lips, and tips it slowly into my mouth. I gulp down the liquid greedily, core burning with ecstasy.

She pulls back, and I whine at the loss.

“Patience, sweet thing,” Lavender coos, stroking my cheek with a delicate hand. Her fingers are longer than they should be. How didn’t I notice that before?

I look up through hazy vision, and blink. Her skin is light purple, and her green eyes lack pupils. Beautiful, in a haunting sort of way. Enchanting. My mother used to tell me stories about the fae. Not to accept food from them, to be weary off their tricks and binding magics.

It’s too late for me. I’ve already been ensnared. I can’t resist, even if I wanted to.

“There’s a good girl,” she says, mouth stretching into a grin far too wide for a human  mouth. “You’re so very clever, you know that? I knew you’d be perfect the moment I met you.”

I want to ask her what she means to do with me. I want to ask her to let me go. I want to ask her to take things further.

Instead I say nothing.

“Would you like to come with me?” She kneels down in front of me, hands cupping my cheeks. “I promise to take excellent care of you.”

Her words echo and bounce through my mind, and I’m nodding before I realize it. She beams, and wraps her hands around my neck. Thin vines snake around my throat, constricting just enough to be noticeable, but not so much as to hurt.

“You won’t be needing these.” She stands up, and tosses my clothing in the fire. As they catch, she starts walking down a path I hadn’t noticed before, flanked by trees I could have sworn didn’t exist. “Come along, pet” 

For a second, I just sit, and stare at my traveling clothes going up in flames.

Then I start crawling after Lavender, one hand in front of the other, down the moonlit path of soft grass and leaves.

*****

The scent of roasting fruit fills the air, wafting outwards from the roaring fire at the center of the room. Fae creatures dance and sing, belting their excitement and exaltation to the skies. I’m not the only human here, although few have their senses. One is letting himself be spun around by silk strands, unaware that the strands are his clothing, and the fae couple entertaining him have less than chaste designs. Another is a pet like myself, blissed out and empty at his master’s feet. A third is sitting quietly in the corner, watching everything with her hawk-like eyes and the faintest sneer of distaste.

I’m lucky, in the grand scheme of things. No more debts, no more work, just pampering and parties. Aware enough to see, to observe, to feel, to know.

A hand reaches down, and long three jointed fingers scratch at my hair. I purr, and lean into my mistress’s touch.

“Enjoying yourself, Aphid?” Her voice is like liquid ecstasy, dripping through my ears and down to my very core.

I nod, unable to muster a single word. Sometimes she lets me speak, but usually I don’t need to. She understands, and that’s the only thing that really matters.

Mistress Lavender reaches down, and holds a small berry in front of my face. I look at it crosswise, and part my lips in eager anticipation. Her fingers push the small orb into me, and I balance it between two molars before crunching down. Sweet juice bursts outwards, coating my tongue and cheeks. It tingles faintly, little lightning bolts of sensation shooting across my nerves. I tilt to the side, and press my head against Mistress Lavender’s leg, nuzzling softly against the thin fabric separating us.

“You’re so precious,” she coos, unable to stop herself from crouching in front of me, and cupping my cheeks. I grin as she shakes me, preening with pride and happiness. I love her, so so much. She’s so kind to me, far more than I ever through I deserved.

Another tall fae creature dances forward. Lady Primrose, one of Mistress Lavender’s paramours. She produces a small wooden bowl of shimmering gold milk, and places it in front of me. I look up at Mistress Lavender, who gives me a nod and a smile. I bend over, and lap up the milk, each drop sending waves of dizzy goodness through my head. The fae milk always makes me so faint, so soft, so fuzzy. It’s lovely.

“Lavender, sweetie,” Lady Primrose says, pulling my mistress into a brief embrace. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, darling Primrose,” Mistress Lavender sighs. I flick my eyes to the side, and watch as her fingers brush back the other woman’s auburn locks. “You must stay with me tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I wouldn’t dare be anywhere else.” Excitement gushes from the Lady, who hangs off my mistress’s every word. She’s like a desperate pet, eager for even a drop of affection.

“My Aphid has learned a new trick,” Mistress Lavender stage whispers. My cheeks heat up, and I lean closer to the bowl as if to avoid attention. The ‘trick’ in question is one of her sex games, the sort that I never imagined was possible before coming here.

“Oh, what fun,” Lady Primrose says, clapping her hands like branches in a windstorm. “I am ever so jealous of your Aphid, you know.”

“Yes, she was quite a lucky find. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get a pet of your own someday,” Mistress says, knowing full well that Lady Primrose was jealous in quite another way entirely.

The keep talking, jumping from gossip to gossip in the way only fae can. All the while, I clean my bowl, making sure to lick every last drop of the sweet nectar. It would be a shame to waste it, not when it was a gift from a sweet thing like Primrose.

I pad back over to my Mistress, leaning against her leg with a small, content sigh. Soon enough, they’ll bore of the party, and retire to their suite for an evening of more personal debauchery. I’ll follow, of course, and likely participate. Heat curls inside me, and I absently rub my thighs together. If I’m good, they’ll give me more treats.

I let my eyes drift closed as I wait for more orders. I'm content, here at her side. At peace. Relaxed.

Everything is perfect.