I woke with a start. Something is wrong.

I sat up, the blankets I'd cocooned myself in falling away, and looked around. The forest was dark, the moon hanging fat and high in the sky above the clearing we'd camped out in. Iason stood watch nearby, looking around as if he'd just heard something.

"Did--" I started, but he waved at me to keep quiet. I decided it was probably a good idea, so I did--but I still slipped out of the blankets and stood up, looking around for whatever it was that had woken me and gotten his attention.

Then, with a rumble and a series of sounds like whips snapping and coiling around something, the ground split open between us and thorny vines sprouted out of it, rapidly growing into a high, thick tangle. I jumped back, startled, but even as I did I was preparing a fireball to fling at the wall.

The fire splashed against the thick, black, leafless vines and fizzled out. 

Well, shit. "Iason!" I called out. "These vines are magic! Use your sword on them!"

Silence stretched out.

"Iason?" I called again.

Well... fuck.

It was quite a bit later, and Iason was lost.

I, to be clear, was not lost. I knew exactly where I was: in the woods. The problem was that I didn't know where Iason was--hence, he was lost.

"Iason!" I called for what felt like the five thousandth time. No answer, at least not in words. But I felt something, a surge of magic, and jumped aside just in time as a vine--thorny, thick, and leafless--hurtled out of the darkness at me.

"What the fuck?" I managed to ask, and then they were all around me, erupting from the ground. I dodged the first as it tried to grab at me, and that gave me enough time to put together a fireball and fling it at the second.

And it did nothing--just splashed against the vine, which kept coming at me! I was so surprised, I hesitated, and for almost too long; I was barely able to get out of the way before the vine wrapped itself around my arm. But that put me in position to nearly get snagged by another grabbing at my ankle, and jumping over that meant I couldn't dodge away from the one grabbing my other ankle, and that one yanked me sideways and, while I was flailing to keep my balance, another grabbed another of my arms.

"Bastards!" I shouted, struggling. I tossed another fireball with my still-free arm, but it again just splashed against the vine without effect. "Cheater! How did you make fire-proof vines? Show yourself, you coward!"

But my other arm was caught, and both pulled sharply against my sides while a third vine wrapped around my waist, catching both my arms as well. Another bound my legs together, and I fell to the forest floor, landing on my side while more vines wrapped around me, binding me tighter.

Thorns dug lightly against my skin, poking just a bit through my clothes. As I struggled, they traced patternless patterns over my skin, scraping just enough to be felt, but not to hurt. And, well... they felt good. I'd been traveling for a long time, with limited opportunities to bathe. I was dirty, dusty, my skin was a wreck... and I itched. The scratching was like heaven, and as it chased the itchiness around my skin, I couldn't help it; I let out a moan.

"You like that, don't you?" purred a soft, throaty voice from the darkness. If I concentrated, I could just make her out, the figure of a tall woman with long, wavy, wild hair, wearing a short dress that clung to her curves and left her arms and legs bare. "I can tell. You've stopped trying to get free and just started to enjoy."

"No I haven't!" I countered. "I'm just... resting for the next attempt." A thorn scraped just past the spot on my spine where the itch had decided to hide out for the moment, and I squirmed to get it scratched. "I can break out whenever I want to."

"Oh really?" the woman asked, clearly amused.

"Really," I repeated. "See, I can smell the smoke."

"Smoke?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"Oh yes. I didn't notice until I relaxed a little, but the smell is definitely there. If I really focus on it, I can hear the fire, too." The scratching was becoming less effective by the second, the feeling of the thorns growing fainter and weaker.

"I--I don't know what you're talking about," said the woman.

"Oh," I replied, "I think you do." I could see the fire, faintly, like a dim flicker that was shining through her and the vines. "See, you did very well, made it very convincing, but forgot about smell. So when my fireballs went straight through your vines and started fires, I smelled the smoke and started to disbelieve. And once I did that, the whole illusion started to break apart."

I stood up as the vines faded away, and smiled at the increasingly faint woman. "Let me guess, that wall between me and Iason was an illusion too, wasn't it? Good try, but you fail. So now..." I grinned fiercely. "Now I am going to find my friend, and then I am going to find you, and then I am going to set you on fire and take away the book you learned all this from. Sound good?"

But she was gone. The fire was fully real now; I could feel its heat, see its flame, cough from its smoke...

Okay. Maybe I put out the fire first, and then find Iason.

I resumed searching. But as I did, I realized I had a little problem. See, the thing about illusions is, the key to breaking them is doubt. The more you doubt the illusion, the weaker it becomes, until it dissolves completely. And the smell of smoke had more or less forced me to question the illusion--I couldn't not doubt it when I could smell something that didn't fit!

But I got lucky, because by the time I realized it was an illusion, I was already doubting it. If mystery lady came back... well, she was clearly a skilled and powerful illusionist. I knew that anything I perceived might be an illusion, which meant doubting everything I perceived was the only way to resist getting caught in an illusion.

And thanks to a certain asshole merchant, I couldn't resist. Which meant I had to accept that everything I perceived was real and true, that it was all genuinely the way things really were, unless I got confronted with another contradiction so strong I couldn't ignore it. Which meant that unless the woman screwed up very badly, I was just going to have to accept that the magnificent castle rising in front of me was completely real.

And how could it not be? It looked real! I mean, it looked as much like a cake as it did a castle, all shining white towers crowned in gold and slender, delicate parapets draped in colorful flags, but it still looked solid and real. It was real! And obviously where mystery lady lived... so I walked in. 

I stood in a grand foyer, crystal staircases rising in graceful curves away from me toward interior balconies. At the far end stood the mystery lady, still wearing that short dress, which in the white light that permeated the castle I could see was a shimmery, sheer dark green that contrasted beautifully with her wild red hair. Her face was pretty, in a sharp, fierce sort of way, and she looked to be maybe five years older than me.

"Welcome," she purred. "Do you like my castle?"

"It's pretty," I admitted. "It's a shame I'm going to have to burn it down if I don't get my friend back."

"Oh, I don't think you will," she replied. "After all, you're bound much too tightly to weave your spells."

And I was. The vines had come out of nowhere, wrapping around me in an instant, and I was forced to my knees, held even more tightly than in the woods. Were they illusions, too? Probably--but they felt completely real, and I couldn't doubt that they were. I couldn't struggle against them at all, they were just too tight and too strong.

The woman walked slowly toward me, her smile sly and cruel, and then she took my chin in her hand and tilted it up to look at her. "I thought so," she said, looking down at my face. "You're not even trying to resist. You like this. Being on your knees. Bound. Controlled."

"No I don't!" I just can't resist mind control!

"Well, I could use a servant, if you're volunteering," she continued. "If you're a good girl, it could be... very pleasant."

I gasped. I had just distinctly felt the sensation of someone sucking both my nipples at once.

"Of course, if you're not a good girl, there are ways of dealing with that, too."

I gasped again, as the sucking became sharp, brief bites.

"So what do you say? Will you be a good girl for me? Will you obey your mistress, Lady Tyrwen of the Wood?"

"Yes," I said immediately, and then gasped in pain like my whole body was being pinched at once.

"Liar," she said simply. "No one surrenders that easily. Admit it."

"Fine," I said. "I was lyING!" The last syllable rose into a sort of sing-song shout as pleasure tingled over the surface of my skin, dancing out in spirals from my breasts and then back in toward my pussy.

Her smile widened, but remained thin and smug. "Good girl." I gasped as another wave of pleasure hit me.

"You wouldn't be my first servant, you know," she said. "I've had many over the years, taking the prettiest young men and women from the village and bending them to my will. They tried to drive me into the forest for that, and they succeeded--but at least I got to hurt them first."

I cried out as pain flooded through me again. "Stoooopppp..." I moaned.

"But every now and again one would seek me out, because of the rumors of what I could do... the pleasure serving me faithfully could bring. Pleasure like this."

My head rolled back on my shoulders as a thousand tongues and a thousand sets of fingers danced teasingly over my skin. I could see what she was doing, rewarding me, getting me addicted--and because I could see it, I had to play along with it, had to help it work.

"Do you understand?" she asked again. "Will you obey?"

"Yes," I said quietly, and then cried out in another, stronger storm of pleasure.

"See?" she said. "It's not so hard." She dropped her dress as she came toward me. I could see the bushy patch of red hair between her legs, just at eye height, the glistening of little droplets.

"You like this too," I observed, and was rewarded with another burst of pleasure.

"Yes I do," she replied, and then she brought my face to her pussy. She moaned as I slid my tongue into her, slipping it between the folds, wiggling it gently from side to side inside her, and as I pleasured her, she sent pleasure dancing through me. Everything I did to her, I felt in my own pussy, the tongue inside, curling up to stroke her clit, my clit, before wiggling its way back inside. She laughed, and I gasped, straining to stretch my tongue as deeply into her as I could, working it against the inside walls of her.

I shuddered, gasping for breath, as she came, and the pleasure of it rolled through me over and over, leaving me shaking and dizzy.

"Oh yes," Tyrwen said in satisfaction. "That's my good girl."

I shivered. Had she sent the pleasure pulsing through me that time with an illusion? Or was I just learning to enjoy being called her good girl, slipping under her control. Oh, I am in trouble... I thought.

She left me there, kneeling, and went somewhere else in the castle to sleep. Whatever part of this place and my bonds might be illusion, the magic remained while she slept--a difficult trick but doable, if you know what you're doing, and she clearly did. Made sense, if she'd been practicing for years.

It felt strange to think about. I could, barely, hold in my head the idea that something here was an illusion. But if I tried to focus on any particular thing, tried out the idea that, say, the vines holding me weren't real, the thought just skidded away. I couldn't doubt anything I perceived, I could only vaguely and ineffectually doubt something.

Eventually, I slept, kneeling, wrapped in vines that might or might not have existed.

Some time later, I woke with a gasp as a jolt of pleasure stabbed through me. I opened my eyes to see Lady Tyrwen looking down at me. "Hello, my good girl," she said. "It's time for breakfast."

Most of the vines were gone, but my hands were bound behind my back by something thick and slightly flexible, presumably one last vine. But I was able to scramble onto my feet and follow her into another room on the ground floor, where a table was spread with delicate pastries and mouthwatering fresh fruits.

"If I unbind you, will you serve me like a good girl, or will you be naughty?" she asked.

"Good," I said.

The vine around my wrists dissolved away, and immediately I brought my hands up, gathering my magic to burn her--and my knees nearly buckled as burning agony exploded through me.

Lady Tyrwen shook her head. "Tsk tsk, and here I thought you were ready to be a good girl," she said.

I cried out as the pain surged again, and this time I really did collapse. It was agony, like the worst heartburn of my life, but not just in my chest. It was in my belly, my legs, my head, everwhere, my whole body in searing agony that made it hard to breathe and impossible to think. "Please," I whimpered, almost sobbing. "Stop! Make it stop!"

"Well..." she said, while I writhed on the floor, desperately trying to escape the inescapable. "I don't know. Are you sorry for what you tried to do?"

"Yes!" I gasped. "Yes, I'm sorry!" Look, it hurt! You would have said anything to make it stop too!

"Good girl," she said, and just like that, the pain vanished in a wave of pleasure. I staggered to my feet as she continued, "I want you to serve me. Bring me food, feed it to me."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, and I couldn't help but anticipate and enjoy the pleasure it brought. I picked up a tray of pastries and presented it to her, and felt another thrill of pleasure. I held the one she selected to her mouth and felt another thrill.

She gave more orders, and with each, obeying became a little more automatic, because I knew how good it would feel. I was getting addicted, I knew, but what could I do? Disobeying would just bring pain, and anyway I couldn't resist her attempt to control me, teach me to obey, addict me... that would be against the rule.

So I obeyed, as obeying felt better and better. By the time she finished her breakfast, I was panting, flushed, and wet--and starving.

"You've been a very good girl," she said, and I gasped as the pleasure hit me again. "I'll give you a choice. You can eat breakfast... or you can be a very, very good girl and pleasure me, and you know just how rewarding that can be."

My stomach growled. I should eat, I thought. I'm starving, and I need my strength... But I remembered how good eating her out had felt the previous night, and I was at least as hot as I was hungry, and anyway it just felt so good to obey...

I dropped to my knees, and she gave me that smug, cruel smile again. "Good girl," she said softly, and spread her legs while I moaned.

Eventually, when we were both sated, she gave me permission to eat. I immediately stuffed my face, and the food was as good as it looked. The pastries were warm and flaky, the fruit sweet and tart and juicy, and I filled my belly.

Then came more training. She gave me little orders--fetching this and that, kneeling, crawling to her, repeating phrases she gave me like "I want to be your good girl" and "good girls obey." Each time the pleasure pulsed through me, and each time it was harder to even think about disobeying.

Then she began demanding it faster. If I so much as hesitated, pain would burst through me until I moved to obey, and then it would be replaced by pleasure. I didn't have time to think about her orders; I had to obey as quickly as she said them. I hung on her words, scurrying to do what she said.

I was truly becoming her good girl, by her definition of good... and it felt good, too.

And then someone walked through the wall--just strode right through it like it wasn't even there.

For just a second, they seemed familiar, but then I could see them clearly: a hulking monster, tall and broad, covered in black scales. One arm was a normal, albeit large and clawed, arm; the other was extra long, and half its length was sharp and black, like a blade.

It paused when it saw Lady Tyrwen and me, and then roared something before charging, swinging its blade.

"Protect me!" she commanded, and I unthinkingly obeyed, hurling a fireball at its chest. It just slashed through it with its blade arm, seemingly unaffected, but that was enough to draw its attention, and I thrilled with the pleasure of obedience.

But I had to shove that aside, because it was coming at me, roaring and swinging its blade arm. I dodged aside as it smashed the table, and then past it toward the door to the foyer. It chased me, as I'd hoped it would, and then I lobbed another fireball at it as it came through the door. Once again it slashed the fireball out of the air with its blade arm, and I groaned.

"Come on, is nothing in this stupid forest properly flammable?"

It roared and came for me again, but I jumped back onto the staircase to get away--or tried to. I felt the stairs under my feet, but still slammed into the ground beneath them, hard. I could see them, but I was standing in them, the step I'd tried to jump onto running right through my waist.

The stairs weren't real. That was an obvious, inescapable fact. They weren't real. They were an illusion, the whole castle was an illusion. There were no upper levels, just this foyer. Even the room where we'd eaten was a porch, the table laid with rough wooden bowls full of acorns and roots, and I could faintly see, superimposed with the beautiful, regal Lady Tyrwen, a scraggle-haired middle-aged woman in a filthy smock. I could even see, where the monster was coming toward me... Iason, in his black dragonscale armor, holding his sword.

I couldn't help disbelieving, because the stairs were fake, and there was no way not to know that. I wasn't resisting at all... but the illusion was falling apart anyway.

And then Iason took another swing that nearly took my head off my shoulders, and I fell backwards. "You idiot!" I shouted at him. "It's me, you moron! Stop attacking and recognize me!"

But of course there was an illusion. His sword would devour the magic and dissipate it, of course--him walking through the wall was probably helping collapse the illusion as much as me standing in the staircase--but only if it hit me first, and I really didn't want it to hit me. So how to convince him I was me?

I couldn't resist the illusion on me--but I could try to free him!

Mmm, I love the smell of loopholes in the morning. And with a backhand wave, I snapped a gust of wind at Lady Tyrwen that picked her up and sent her flying at Iason. Instinctively, he parried the attack, and she struck the flat of his sword--and at that moment, the illusions vanished completely.

He turned back to me, then stopped and blinked. "Lemma?"

"Yes!" I said.

"Wait, you were the goblin thing?"

I paused and counted slowly to three in my head. "You wanna rephrase that?"

"Um..." he hesitated. "I was, uh, confused by an illusion."

"Yeah you were. You weren't the only one. I gotta admit, that witch is good." I nodded at Tyrwen.

She looked up at us from the ground. She opened her mouth, and I realized she was about to give a command, a command that would be accompanied by that wonderful pleasure, or pain if I disobeyed, and fuck me, I knew I would obey it whatever it was just to feel that pleasure--

And Iason pointed his sword right at her. "I wouldn't try anything if I were you, witch," he said warningly, and she snapped her mouth shut.

We found the book in a cupboard in the back of the witch's one-room hovel--illusion spells, of course. I wondered briefly how a hedge witch had managed to learn magic from a book of high magic she probably couldn't even read--but she didn't say anything while Iason watched her, and it's probably for the best.

Probably? I mean definitely. Definitely for the best, and I definitely wasn't disappointed to leave.

Really.