Before Isolde could blink, Shaeline had snapped her fingers, and the world popped in a shower of sparks and smoke. When the dust cleared, the pair stood in a small, but cozy bedroom. For the first time in what felt like forever—and considering the intractable nature of the fae realm, it just may have been a forever or two—Isolde was wide awake. A full length mirror stood against the wall, and Isolde rushed to check herself. Thank the Goddess, she was back normal, mostly, anyway. Roots no longer sprouted from her extremities, her skin was free of its greenish hue; all that remained of the myriad flowers and leaves which had once sprouted from her body was a lone dark red carnation sprouting from just above her left ear. That wasn’t so bad. It looked cute, even. Either way, Isolde had more important matters to attend to. Straightening herself out, Isolde cleared her throat, and whirled about to face her apparent savior. She looked the fae up and down, and narrowed her eyes. “I suppose,” she began, slow and careful, “I suppose I owe you my life. You have my thanks.”

 

Shaeline flicked her wrist in a casual half-shrug. “Oh it’s not that big a deal. You’d hardly have died anyway. In fact quite the opposite. Fae are immortal, after all. But I know how much you mortals value your ‘identity’ or what have you.”

 

Isolde sighed. Helpful or no, fae were still an enigma. “Where are we? Where should I go from here?” 

 

“These are my quarters,” Shaeline said, splaying her arms wide. “Feel free to make yourself at home, though if you do, you might never leave.” She winked, paying Isolde’s scowl no heed. “As far as what to do from here,” she began, darting into her closet, and beginning to rummage. “The Mistress’ quarters are on the second floor, and a good deal deeper into the manor. I’m quite certain that if you can manage to find her, she’d be delighted to speak with you face to face, but you’ll still need a way to move about the manor freely. After all, not everyone here will be so lax about a human intruder.” Her voice grew increasingly muffled as she delved into depths of her closet, tossing random bits of clothing over her shoulder as she went, before finally, she exclaimed a triumphant, “aha!” and zipped back out. 

 

“My suggestion would be a disguise!” She said, dumping a bundle of assorting clothing onto the bed. “I’ve got three options for you. First up:” she held up a flowing maid dress. “If you disguise as one of the maids you’ll pretty much have free reign of the manor, plus the uniforms are so lovely! I sometimes put them on just for fun. You’ll maybe have to do a few chores, but nothing too hard. Plus as an added bonus the Mistress’ maids are often expected to… serve the guests, if you know what I mean.” She licked her lips, bouncing her eyebrows. “Why don’t you have a look at it? Touch the fabric, feel how soft it is,” she offered, thrusting the uniform outward. 

 

Isolde stepped backward, and gave a firm shake of her head. “I want to at least hear my other options first.”

 

With a dejected sigh, Shaeline set the uniform down, only to bounce right back with a bright smile. “I also have this,” she offered, thrusting a gold chained emerald talisman up to the light. “This pretty little treasure will ensure anyone looking at you will see you as, well, just a pretty little treasure. A lovely decoration. Wouldn’t that be nice? I like this option a lot, you’d just be able to relax, no expectations, no demands, just a nice, easy time.” She twirled the chain in her hand, letting it sway back and forth, glittering in the light. 

 

It was quite pretty, but something about Shaeline’s tone set the hairs of Isolde’s neck on end. She tore her eyes away, and clenched her fist. “Tell me about the last one.”

 

Shaeline huffed. “I really think you should go with the amulet. But if you really want I could also give you this guard’s cloak.” She held the plain brown garment aloft, wrinkling her nose. “If you put it on it becomes a suit of guard’s armor. I suppose nobody would expect anything of you, but come on now. Guards are so… boring. You have all these duties you need to fulfill. And worse still, they might ask you to do some actual hard work. Wouldn’t you rather be a maid, or a nice pretty thing for everyone to look at?” 

 

“I’m not planning on sticking around, Shaeline,” Isolde growled. 

 

“I know, I know. And trust me, I’m gonna do my best to get you what you want. But I’m also just saying: if you do wind up succumbing, wouldn’t you rather be stuck as something more fun?” She cocked her head to the side, a curious, but concerned look on her face. She seemed strangely sincere. Another tally on the list of things Isolde would just never understand about fae. 

 

“Just give me the cloak,” Isolde grumbled. 

 

“Ugh, fine!” Shaeline huffed, crossing her arms under her chest. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you if you wind up stuck as a boring old guard for the next several thousand years.” Once again, she snapped her fingers, and the world popped. 

 

The twisting corridors of Lady Yvaine’s manor stretched out far as Isolde could see in either direction. She staggered, her mind still catching up to the sudden change in scenery. Metallic clamoring rose to accompany her stumbling steps; Isolde righted herself, and breathed a sigh of relief. Strange as she was, Shaeline had come through. Next up, she’d need to gather her bearings. That would be easier said than done; Isolde hadn’t the slightest idea how to navigate this place. 

 

Little else to go on, Isolde picked a direction, and walked. Not ten paces into her exploration, Isolde rounded a corner, and collided with a wide-eyed waifish young woman, knocking the poor girl flat on her rear. “I’m so sorry!” Isolde stammered, rushing to help the stranger to her feet. 

 

“Oh thank the Mistress I found you!” She cried, scrambling to her feet and tugging at Isolde’s arm. “You need to come quick! One of our Lady’s guests has lost her mind! She’s going to hurt someone!” 

 

Isolde froze, and swore under her breath. She’d been hoping to at least get some idea of the layout of this place before someone disrupted her, but she couldn’t exactly say no. It would draw suspicion. Besides, if people really were in danger… “Lead the way,” she ordered. Without another word, the woman took off. dashing through the halls at remarkable speed, taking turn after turn as Isolde struggled to keep up. Finally, she dashed through a doorway; Isolde caught the briefest glimpse of dark, fuzzy shapes within before it swung. She paused, just for a few breaths, then strode up to the door, and pushed through it. 

 

The room really was dark, cold too, and damp. The door swung shut, echoing through the room. Isolde whirled around and found only a wall of solid rock behind her. Something was wrong. Her danger senses were screaming at her to run, but where? She needed to calm down, keep her wits about her. Isolde bit her lip, and pushed further into the room. The darkness only grew thicker as she pressed onward. There was more, though. It wasn’t just dark. Dread hung thick in the air; Isolde was practically choking on it. Eerie echoes of dripping water closed in on all sides; every step felt as though Isolde were about to walk out into nothingness, and fall forever, or walk head first into a jagged wall of pointed stone. Her thudding footfalls and gasping breaths bounced every which way, leaving the impression of thousand invisible monsters encircling her, waiting to strike. Somewhere far ahead in the depths of this endless dark, a deep, rumbling wind scoured the cave walls, moaning and wailing. A terrible, yawning mouth sucking her deeper and deeper. 

 

This place, she wasn't alone here. Isolde was certain of that. Every flex of every muscle was slow, methodical, as quiet as she could make it. Even so, whoever else was here, they’d no doubt heard her enter. She couldn’t go on. She had to. There was no way out behind her. If Isolde were ever to escape this wretched cave, she needed to press on, no matter how terrifying such a prospect might be. It would be fine; she could do this. Isolde was no coward, nor was she helpless. Whatever monsters lurked within, they would learn to fear her blade. That was what she needed, her blade. Nothing stilled her fear like the familiar weight of sharpened steel in her hand. In a slow, careful arc, Isolde traced her hand across her belt, and grasped for her sword: nothing, just empty air. Blind panic gripped Isolde. Her sword, where was her sword? She grasped and fumbled in the darkness, only to find nothing. 

 

She couldn’t breathe. This was too much. She’d gone through a door and wound up in some cave with Goddess knew what and now she’d somehow lost her sword. Isolde scrambled backward, scouring the ground for her blade. One wrong step was all it took. Her foot slipped on wet rock, and Isolde clattered to the ground, doom echoing deep into the inconceivable blackness beyond. That was when she heard the skittering. 

 

It seemed to come from all sides. Above, below, beside, behind. One thing was for certain, the noise was growing louder. Fear swelled, and burst into full-blown terror; Isolde hurried to push herself up, only to find herself stuck fast, caught in sticky webbing. “Fuck,” she breathed, scrambling and tugging in growing desperation. “No, no, no no no no.” The more she pulled and struggled, the less she could move. It was growing closer now, that sound, scraping against the walls as doom closed in. It would kill her, eat her, squeeze her ‘til her eyeballs popped out and lay its eggs in the sockets. Please, Goddess no. Helpless, Isolde did the only thing she could; she tucked into a ball, and prayed. Then, without warning, the noise stopped; whatever it was, it was close. Isolde held her breath, and willed her body to cease its incessant trembling. It didn’t. The only thing left to do was wait. 

 

“Oh, dear,” a sweet, gentle voice crooned, echoing from all sides. “You poor thing.” Warm arms wrapped around her. Isolde yelped, and they withdrew. “I’m sorry!” The voice exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, really I didn’t mean to scare you.” Silence fell over the cave, and Isolde waited for death to come. It didn’t. Slowly, her heart rate began to slow along with her panicked breathing. She shifted in place, and glanced up at the source of the sound: nothing but impenetrable darkness. She cowered in the face of it. “Aww, hey hey,” the voice cooed. “You did so well. And a pretty face, too. I’m sorry I frightened you, little human. When I caught you in that terrible excuse for a guard disguise, I thought you were some nasty intruder trying to sneak into the Lady’s Manor. But now I can see you’re just some poor misguided little thing who wandered off where she wasn’t supposed to. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

 

A hand brushed against Isolde’s cheek in a slow, careful stroke; Isolde shuddered, then sobbed, but didn’t pull away. “That’s it, it’s okay,” the voice purred. Another stroke, then another. If this woman wanted to hurt Isolde, surely she would have by now? And she had to admit, those soft soft strokes were comforting. Isolde wasn’t about to admit it to herself, but she began to lean in to the touch, a quiet calm slowly falling over her. “There you go, that’s a good girl.” Good girl? Seriously? Isolde glared up at her unseen company, earning a pleased giggle. “Oh, no need to pout. Such a petulant little thing.” She caressed Isolde’s cheek, and Isolde uncurled herself, rolling over and sitting up. “Come now, let’s get you untangled, hmm?” She grasped Isolde under the arms, lifted her up, then placed her back down onto her rear.  

 

“Erm,” Isolde whimpered, her voice trembling, quiet, weak from fear. “Wh-who are you?” 

 

“Oh dearest me,” the voice gasped. “You can’t even see me, can you? How very rude of me.” Bright flame burst forth from nothing, illuminating the cave. A familiar face looked down upon her. It was the girl who Isolde had bumped into, only different. She looked more confident, mature, she also happened to be sporting six additional eyes, arranged in an arc across her brow. Then there were the fangs. And the extra legs. And the thorax. Isolde screamed. She whirled onto her hands and knees, and managed an impressive five whole steps before the fangs sunk into her neck, and the world slipped away. 

 

When Isolde’s eyes opened once more, she lay upon something soft, silky, warm. A pale blue light stretched across the room, bright enough to see, but not so bright as to keep her from shutting her eyes and drifting back off. “Awake already?” a familiar voice called, accompanied by telltale skittering. Just like that, Isolde was wide awake and on edge all over again. She tried to sit up, tried being the operative word. Her limbs wouldn’t budge an inch. Isolde’s breath quickened. She tried everything: her arms, legs, neck, fingers, toes, core. She could do nothing but blink, and wait, though she didn’t need to for long. Sudden scraping scuttling resounded off the cave walls, and her captor came into view, descending the far wall on the massive spider body which comprised her lower half. Her upper body, uncannily, voluptuously beautiful, served only to amplify her chilling aura. Each passing moment she drew closer, closer still, until stopping just before Isolde’s resting place, staring down on her behind a toothy smile. 

 

“I’m sorry, little human,” she cooed. “Truly, I know I may seem frightening, but I mean you no harm. I just had to inject my venom into you. It’s dangerous for you to run around on your own, you might get hurt. But don’t worry, you’re safe here. I’ll take good care of you.” She leaned closer, reaching out to scoop Isolde up into her arms. Helpless and afraid, Isolde began to pant as she tried, and failed to fight through her paralysis. “Ssh ssh ssh, it’s alright now,” the arachne soothed. She pulled Isolde into a tight hug, smothering Isolde in her ripe, bare breasts. “I won’t hurt you. Just relax, let me take care of everything.”

 

Isolde hung limp, helpless, terrified as her captor cradled her; she held her breath, waiting for the pain to come, only to be met with rhythmic, gentle stroking across her head. The Arachne sighed. “There you go, you’re much more agreeable this way, aren’t you?” She grasped the back of Isolde’s head, and moved it up and down in a slow nod. “Good girl!” She cheered. Isolde remained still, stewing as her fear turned to impotent frustration at the indignity of it all. Still, it beat getting eaten, and the woman’s warm, soft bosom made for a comfortable cushion to rest against, willingly or not. It might be in her best interest to hear this monstrous woman’s out, see what she wanted. Perhaps with her help, Isolde could find a way out of this horrid cave. Just the thought of wandering that impenetrable blackness alone once more struck Isolde with such terror that, despite the paralytic, her whole body shuddered. The arachne woman held her tighter in response, pressing a kiss to her forehead and making gentle shushing sounds. Against her better judgment, Isolde began to calm down. 

 

“See?” The arachne hummed. “I’m not so bad once you get to know me.” She was right; Isolde had misjudged her. How rude, she hoped she hadn’t hurt the woman’s feelings. The very thought that she had hurt more than Isolde cared to admit. She really should be nicer from now on. “Why don’t you stay here with me? Let me look after you?” That really didn’t sound so bad, at least for the time being, anyway, until she found a way out. Isolde had no way to respond, but her new companion seemed to sense her agreeability regardless. “How wonderful,” she beamed. “I’ll take such immaculate care of you, I promise.” She leaned down and kissed Isolde on the lips, then smiled all the wider. “You’re Mommy’s special girl now.”

 

Mommy? Isolde narrowed her eyes. Just what exactly did she mean by that? Did it really matter though? It seemed quite clear at this point the woman had no intention of hurting Isolde. And it wasn’t as though Isolde could argue with her anyway. She may as well just relax until the venom wore off. Then she could clear all this up. Again somehow detecting Isolde’s acceptance, the arachne gave a contented sigh, and stroked Isolde’s cheek. “There’s a good girl. You don’t need to worry about a thing.” Strangely enough, Isolde couldn’t help but agree with her. It really was hard to worry, or fret in that warm, comforting embrace. She was running her fingers through Isolde’s hair now. Her nails traced delicious, tingly little circles along Isolde’s scalp, scritching away her worries, her resistance, her independence. 

 

Then there was that voice: so melodic, so full of love and kindness and care. It sounded like safety; like knowing that nothing could ever hurt you and no matter what happens, someone will always be there to love you. How could Isolde not be soothed? How could she not feel giddy and tingly at her praise? Besides, the arachne was right; Isolde was being a good girl. It was only natural to point it out. Did she not deserve to be recognized for her compliance? Rewarded? Cuddled and coddled? It was only natural for good girls to feel good when their Mommies praised them.

 

Isolde gazed up at her Mommy, eyes full of blind, doe-eyed adoration. She gave a toothy smile, some secret satisfaction shimmering in her eyes. And she had such pretty eyes too. So easy to stare into, to lose herself in. “That’s it,” Mommy said. “Just relax. Let go. This is all you need. I’m all you need.” She spoke, Isolde listened. “The world outside my arms is a frightening place; you need me to protect you from it. You need me to take care of your needs. You need me to feel good.” She did need it. She needed it so, so much. Isolde whined, low and long and desperate. “That’s right. Good girl,” Mommy cooed. She traced her fingernails up Isolde’s inner thigh in a long, slow arc, and cupped her crotch. “Is my girl horny? You are, aren’t you?” She was. “Such a horny little thing, so desperate for her Mommy’s touch. You didn’t even say so!” Isolde whined again; she needed to be touched so badly, but she couldn’t even move. Impotent lust pounded in her aching loins. 

 

“Aww, poor dear. Such a needy girl and no way to help herself. Why don’t you rub yourself silly for Mommy, sweetheart? Go on, I give you permission.” Just like that, Isolde could move, and she knew just what to do. Feverish depravity had overtaken her, and she began to hump her Mommy’s hand with all the desperation she could muster. Mommy giggled, sweet and condescending as she watched on, not so much as lifting a finger to help. “That’s it. Good girl,” she sang. Her praise only incensed Isolde, and she humped all the harder. “Forget your responsibilities. Forget the outside world. You don’t want to go out there. Not when you can just lie around all day and let Mommy tease you.” Goddess, it felt so good. Isolde redoubled her efforts; she needed to cum so bad. “I’m your home now,” Mommy purred. 

 

“And don’t I know how to make good, obedient girls feel so, so good?” She did, she really, really did. Isolde could sit there and rub herself against Mommy’s warm, soft hands all day. “You’re all mine now. Good girl. I get to decide what you wear, what you eat, when you sleep, when you cum. I could just tie you up in webs and hold you all day while you hump my hand like a silly, impotent little pet. Wouldn’t you like that? For the pleasure to build and build forever, never quite releasing? Never ending?” Isolde panted, nodding her head and whining. “Well then,” Mommy’s kind smile spread into a wide, toothy grin, her fangs gleaming in the dim light. “Why don’t you just sit still and let Mommy take care of everything.” She lashed out in an instant, her fangs sinking into Isolde’s neck. The world went black. 

 

Isolde was in heaven. Her arms and legs were bound behind her back in soft, silky spider thread. A gag, fashioned from the same silky substance, had been placed over her mouth. She lay suspended in her Mommy’s embrace, crotch pressed against Her hand, with nothing to do but moan and grind ‘til she couldn’t even remember her own name. Mommy had injected her with a big dose of some extra special venom. Now Isolde’s skin felt so soft, so delicate, so sensitive. 

 

Every brush of her wrists, or her ankles against her restraints, every tickle of her hair along her neck, every slow, agonizing droplet of sweat trailing down her back was ecstasy. That wasn't even getting started on the impossible pleasure even the slightest bit of attention from Mommy brought her. She could spend forever lying in Her arms, listening to Mommy giggle and praise her as She showered Her precious darling in all manner of praise and pets.

 

She would always be there, staring down at Isolde, a loving, protective, predatory grin upon her face. Isolde was so, so grateful to her Mommy for taking away her choice, her uncertainty, her fear. 

 

Here she was safe. Here she never had to wonder what would come next. Here she could just hump and moan to her little heart’s content, secure in the knowledge that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how good it felt, she would never, ever cum. She was so, so blessed to be an impotent, needy little toy forever and ever and ever. Isolde sighed; how wonderful her life was. What a silly girl she’d been, wanting to leave. It was preposterous! The outside world was scary, not fit for weak, needy, easily frightened little things like her. Here was good; here she had her Mommy to protect her. Isolde breathed an appreciative moan into her gag, just to remind her Mommy just how grateful she was for this perfect life, then went right back to the one thing she did best: humping ‘til she passed out from exhaustion.

 

A great clatter jolted Isolde from her stupor. Someone screamed, and Isolde tumbled to the floor with a soft thud. She blinked a few times, staring into the dim light through hazy eyes, drooling into her gag. There were strangers here. But also someone else, someone she recognized. The one she recognized seemed to be arguing with her Mommy and gesturing wildly. When she turned to face Isolde, her eyes lit up, and she sailed through the air to hover right before her.

 

“Wow look at you!” She chirped. “Don’t I have egg on my face? This isn’t boring at all! Are you still in there, or did she totally fry your brain?” Isolde narrowed her eyes. “Aoife, does that mean anything to you?” The name kicked like a mule; Isolde’s eyes stretched wide, and she began nodding and squirming. “Okay okay,” Shaeline chucked. “I talked to your uhh… ‘Mommy’ over there, told her you were a guest of the Mistress, not an intruder. She says since you’re supposed to be here, she’s willing to let you go.” Shaeline leaned a little closer, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I’m also leaving her one of the guards as a new toy so she won’t get lonely. So how’s about we get you back up onto your feet, and on your way?”