The Witch and the Elf (2)
Strangely enough, the Witch simply kept smiling with easy good humor — which only made her all the harder to read. It was Cloud whose nerves were fraying, and so he found himself talking more and more.
"I merely wish for you to calm your wrath and depart in peace. Can you not grant me even that much, for my sake?"
He said it nearly like begging.
This was a Witch who had taken on three elves at once and killed two of them. Against monstrous skill like that, Cloud had no hope of holding his own — forget his neck; she might tear him limb from limb. Knowing it, he screwed his courage down and kept the bluff going. Now that he had set foot on this mortifying stage of a performance, it was do or die.
"If you insist on killing this elf, then I intend to stop you with everything I have."
When Cloud finished, the Witch let the moment hang, eyes resting on the elf as though weighing something. Then, with a sticky smile, she granted his demand without fuss.
"Very well. I shall do as Lady Ophelia says."
"A wise choice."
For an instant, a grin spread across his whole face so wide it nearly gave him away. Cloud coughed drily and hastily rearranged his features.
"Before I depart, however, I would like to present Lady Ophelia with a gift. Will you accept it?"
"A gift, you say?"
"Yes. The noble bearing you radiate pleased me greatly, Lady Ophelia — ours has been a short but delightful acquaintance. As thanks for the pleasure you have given me, I have prepared two gifts, and I daresay you will be quite satisfied when you see them."
"Two gifts, no less?"
At the promise of presents, a smile crept unbidden to his lips. Still, he did not rejoice outright. A suspicion nagged at him that some other scheme might be coiled behind those blue eyes.
"What manner of gift?"
"The first gift is this child, right here."
Smile playing about her mouth, the Witch gestured at the elf. As Cloud's gaze followed, he understood at last why she had neither resisted nor made a sound through their entire exchange.
Her mouth and body were bound fast by long, slender, transparent snakes.
The Witch spoke. "This child is a High Elf. Of all elven kind, High Elves are the most noble breed — fierce in their pride and exceedingly few in number. A rare treasure indeed."
"That much, even I already know."
Cloud answered with studied indifference, and the Witch grinned and pressed on.
"Born a human, it can be no easy thing to lie with a noble elf such as this. So before I go, as my gift, I shall help you have your way with this High Elf."
"What? I-is that the truth?"
"It is. And as you well know, elves are the finest bedmates in existence. What men call a 'legendary pussy' is a woman whose nectar flows abundantly, whose inner flesh contracts with superb skill, and whose grip is tight and unrelenting. Elven women in particular are softer than human women yet clamp down harder, and the feel of them is divine — they grant a man satisfaction beyond measure. That is why they say a human man who has tasted an elf even once can never forget it for the rest of his days, and that unless he keeps an elf at his side, he will go mad in the end. As for whether that rumor holds true — why not taste for yourself and judge, my dear Lady Ophelia?"
Cloud stared down at the elf in disbelief. In the same instant her ears twitched, and she met his eyes — eyes clear as a mountain lake.
"Ohh..."
It was the first time he had ever stood this close to an elf, a creature he had only ever seen between the pages of books. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that the sigh escaped him before he could stop it.
He was neither beautiful nor clean himself. If coveting desire and groveling made up his life, then this High Elf seemed a being who lived a life of beauty, elegance, and grace.
Staring at her slack-jawed any longer would ruin his performance as Ophelia, so he lifted his gaze to the Witch instead.
"You mean for me to rape this elf?"
"Rape?"
The Witch smirked.
"It is rape, and yet it is not rape. If anything, it will do this child good."
"Rape that isn't rape? What is that supposed to mean?"
"You will see soon enough."
The Witch reached out and drew from the mouth of one of the transparent snakes binding the elf a repulsive caterpillar the size of a thumb. She pressed it against the elf's forearm.
The elf's face drained with terror and she shook her head wildly. Cloud, watching her with a pang of pity, half considered stopping the Witch — but with matters already in motion, he could not bring himself to needlessly provoke her temper.
While he was still dithering, the caterpillar bit down on the elf's forearm. A moan spilled from her lips and her whole body shuddered. Bright red blood ran down her skin from the creature's maw.
Once it had finished biting her, the caterpillar dropped away, thrashed briefly on the ground, and died. The transparent snakes binding the elf went limp, slithered off into the water, and vanished.
"This child has just been bitten by a bug known as the Lactation Bug."
"Lactation Bug? What in the world is that? Does its bite paralyze you, or put you under some spell?"
"Something of the sort. Once bitten, the body burns hot and begins to chase pleasure. And milk begins to flow from the breasts."
"Milk — without ever having been with child?"
"Precisely. And if that milk is not thoroughly drained, this child will die within half a day."
So that was what she meant. Rape, yet not rape.
"So every last drop must be wrung out... Then this elf will have to accept me willingly, if only to survive. An excellent plan."
Then a thought struck Cloud.
Would it not have been truly for this elf's own good to die an honorable death fighting the Witch, as her companions who went before her had, rather than live and suffer such disgrace?
He wondered whether he had saved her for nothing.
And only then did he grasp the Witch's design. She had known all along that he was not the real Ophelia, and on the premise that the elf must die no matter what, she had played dumb and toyed with them both. It was no gift for Cloud's sake. It was the Witch's amusement.
Leave the elf be, and the Lactation Bug's venom would kill her. Save her by lying with her, and this noble creature, defiled by a human, would be unable to bear the shame and would choose death by her own hand in the end. Whichever way he chose, the elf died.
So, after agonizing over it, he reached his conclusion.
In that case, I may as well indulge to my heart's content.
He decided to toss guilt out the window. Had the word ever even lived in his chest to begin with? If it had, he would have leapt off a cliff a few dozen times over the course of his life.
"Very well. You are a rather useful Witch. Tiresome duty though it be, I shall sacrifice myself and drain every last drop of her milk. My cock is already stirring at the thought."
Cloud smacked his lips and rubbed his palms together, scheming.
"So what is this other gift of yours? You said there were two."
Instead of answering, the Witch only kept chuckling. What in the world was so funny? She looked to be straining to hold back laughter that kept threatening to burst out of her.
Then she turned away and began to walk off as if nothing had happened, swaying her springy hips. A few steps on, she glanced back over her shoulder.
"Fufu, you truly are an amusing one. It has been ages since anyone made me laugh until my belly ached. I meant to keep playing along, but you were too funny — I simply couldn't keep it up any longer."
Cloud did not waver at the Witch's sudden words. He answered with a perfectly composed face.
"How did you know I was not Ophelia?"
"Regrettably, Ophelia and I are old acquaintances. There is no chance I would fail to know her face."
"Oh ho, so that was it. Then why did you leave me be, knowing I was a fake?"
The Witch answered, wearing a bewitching smile.
"Shall I say that watching your clumsy performance — all gall and nothing behind it — stirred a delight in me I had not felt in ages? All who cross my path either cower in fear or come swinging at my throat. You were the first human I had ever met who did neither. I found that courage admirable, so I resolved to spare you as a form of praise. And you truly were quite hilarious."
The moment she finished, a rending sound tore from her back and black wings shot upward. As she spread them wide, enormous demonic wings — shaped much like a bat's — unfurled into view.
At the eerie, wondrous sight, Cloud swallowed hard. He was frightened, and he was awed.
"It seems it is time I took my leave."
With a light flap of her demonic wings, the Witch's body rose into the air. Looking down at Cloud from on high, she spoke.
"That elf is your prize for entertaining me. Opportunities like this do not come often to humans, so ravish that High Elf's body to your heart's content and take your pleasure. And —"
She extended the index finger of her right hand toward Cloud. Her nail was long, glossy, and black.
"The second gift is this."
The instant the words left her mouth, a sinister beam of light surged up from her fingertip and coiled around Cloud in a heartbeat.
"GYAAAAAAH!"
Cloud writhed in agony so dizzying it nearly stole his consciousness. Something — something was burrowing into his back, gnawing at it. The pain was horrific.
"AAAGH! GYAAAH! URGH!"
At last the Witch withdrew her hand, and Cloud stopped rolling across the floor. Panting hard, he hastily groped at his right shoulder blade — the spot where, moments before, he had felt pain like his flesh being seared away. Craning his neck as far as it would go to see his own back, he found a grotesque black tattoo etched into the right shoulder blade. It was identical to the tattoo drawn on the Witch's right hip.
"What did you do to me!" he demanded, panic written across his face.
"For a man with such a witty head, your body seemed terribly ordinary — so as your second prize, I have shared my power with you."
"Power? Don't make me laugh! This looks exactly like a slave brand! You carved a brand into my body to make me your slave!"
The Witch laughed.
"Is now really the time for a tantrum?"
"Urk!"
Cloud clutched his chest. It felt as though a hot flame were swirling about inside his body. Swept up in a sensation like acid churning in his gut, he was seized by a fierce thirst.
"That is because you and it are still strangers. It will take time for your body and my power to attune to one another. Endure the process, and you will gain great strength. Fail to endure it, and you will die."
"Goddammit!"
Furious, he slammed his fist into the ground. He knew all too well how weak his stamina was, and a grim premonition flashed through him — that he would not endure it, and he would die.
"Then do try to survive."
Laughing merrily, the Witch beat her wings and soared up into the sky.