Charger wasn’t happy. His master and the freshly bred Deardra mare rode on his back as he followed the winding path through the massive trees. After his master had mated with his mare they had sat and talked for far too long, in his vastly superior equine opinion. The mare had told his master about the city of the fae, and all the little hidden places she knew the fae lived in. Mostly it was the trees. For it was from the trees that the glamor flowed. So they would find a large tree and hollow it out… building rooms one on top of the other with a spiral stair that wound upward along the inside curve of the tree. There was a hatch at the top of each stair that needed to be opened to ascend. This kept the unwary from falling through holes in the floor when they were in an upper room. They used glamor for light. Condensing it into small golden ornaments that shone with the same amber light that was found outside. His master seemed impressed, but he was not. Living in trees… the country fae were idiots in his opinion. Now the city fae… that was another thing. They built huge towering structures. Stone and crystal flowed together with living wood to stretch upward toward the sky. Each building a unique reflection of the power and personality of the fae that created it. Power was everything to the fae. Glamor could work wonders if you had enough of it. It protected you, provided for you, could be used as currency in trades, and even…. if you were skilled enough… could be condensed into rare and unique objects. Each created object was a permanent physical thing of pure glamor. They were dangerous… and powerful. A few… like the dagger Deardra’s former master had carried, even had what felt like a will of their own. Normal ones were dangerous enough. Because if you didn’t know how to use it, it could be accidentally activated at the wrong time and either injure or even kill the user or those around them. But those with a will, those were something else all together. You didn’t own them. They chose who used them, and for what purpose. And if they decided they didn’t want to do something, and you tried to force them… well… it always ended badly.
Charger knew on some level that he was such an object. When the master had driven him into the fae lands and felt he was about to die, the intensity of the emotion from a king had drawn epic amounts of glamor from the trees. Without knowing what he was doing, his master’s desire to protect himself and his car had shaped the glamor and poured it into him. Charger had purpose in that moment. Taking a form to fulfill that purpose. He would protect the master. He would protect himself. He would protect the master’s mare. He was the steed his master had always thought of when he thought of him as a car.
But dammit all to hell! He didn’t like taking directions from some mare that was leaking her juices and his masters cum all over his saddle! Huffing a large breath out his nostrils in annoyance. Charger hung his head in frustrated acceptance of the stains he was just sure she was making as he plodded down the path. Yes… Charger… so abused… was not a happy horse.
Psymon smiled softly feeling Deardra’s arms around him as they rode. She wore his old leather jacket and had his long sleeve shirt tied around her waist like a skirt. He grinned thinking about the seductive body hidden beneath. She was like no one he had ever met. Strong and caring… beautiful… and while he hated what the fae had done to her, he loved how he could indulge his sadistic desires. Every pinch, twist, and slap made her moan and beg for more. He could use every bit of his strength and she would love it. And the silver collar she now wore was a wonder as well. Marks on her skin faded almost as soon as he made them. When he had removed his belt from around her breasts, the deep purple bruise had faded to pink and then was gone in less than a minute.
Psymon sighed as he felt her delicate hands readjust around his waist. It felt good having her close to him. “How far is it to the village?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder. Deardra smiled, enjoying his attention. “Distance works differently here. If we were on foot, it would take half a day. On horseback, still half a day. We could be flying at hundreds of miles an hour, and it would still take half a day.” Psymon smirked… already seeing a loophole “soo… what if you took one step every hour in the direction you meant to travel. Would you still arrive in half a day? Even though you had only taken a few steps?”
Deardra shook her head “no… you need to actually be traveling the whole time. There is a way around it though. It requires a physical object that in some way keeps time. A watch, or an hourglass… something like that. If you think about where you want to be and slowly feed glamor into the object for as long as it would have taken to travel there, it is possible. It opens a rift in space that connects the two points. And it lets the person or people that spent the time and glamor to travel to that location. Almost no one does it though… why spend the glamor if it’s going to take the same amount of time either way?”
Psymon nodded, “I think I get it. Going to take a while to get used to it though.” He shifted his weight in the saddle, not used to the way it stretched his legs. “So how do you use glamor anyway? Apparently I can… but it has always been an accident.” He felt Deardra shrug her shoulders behind him as her chest rubbed against his back “no idea… the fae just seem to know how. I don’t think anyone teaches them.” Psymon frowned in thought, “and how do you know how much glamor… i… or someone else has?”
Deardra thought for a moment… then spoke “I remember my former master checking his by looking at his hand. I don’t know how he did it exactly… but he would hold out his hand and golden dust seemed to flow up to the surface of his skin. The more gold there was, the more glamor he had.”
Psymon looked down at his hand thinking ok glamor… show yourself! And nothing happened. He sighed and got distracted as Deardra’s hands readjusted on his chest for a better grip. It felt good… right… he closed his eyes and imagined a shining golden light inside him, imagined it flowing… down to his hand. He opened his eyes as Deardra gasped “Psymon! Look at your hand!” He lifted his hand to look, his jaw dropped. His hand looked like it had been carved of crystalline flecks of gold. It almost hurt to look at. He marveled at it… flexing his hand and holding it out in the light to scatter thousands of tiny motes across Charger’s neck and his legs. “Huh… well… that’s a thing.” He looked back at Deardea, “is… that a lot?”
Deardra nodded… dumbstruck. She had never seen so much glamor in one place before. Her former master… even after using her to gather glamor for years, only had enough to fill his palm. The bits of golden glamor were tiny… so small you could barely see them. But she knew what you could do with even one. This was the glamor equivalent… of a nuke. Had he focused his will and desire to that end… he could lay waste to every living thing in the fae lands. Maybe even beyond.
She spoke softly “you… should not show that… to anyone. Unless you mean to kill them, or force them to serve you. Whatever you did… let it go. Practice bringing out a dozen or so grains at a time. The fae we are going to see… will do anything for the right price. He may even be able to teach you to use and control your glamor. And you need that. You have… so much… using it accidentally… could kill everyone, and everything… for hundreds of days’ travel.”
Psymon balked. Holy fuck! He had that much? He needed to be careful… vary careful. He cleared his mind and the gold seemed to sink into his skin and disappear. He took a deep breath, his broad chest expanding under the silk. Then slowly exhaling to bring his mind into focus. He imagined a single day of light flowing to his hand. His palm filled with gold as he watched. “This is going to take some time to get right…” he said as he stared at his glittering palm. “Good thing we still have a few hours to go before we reach this guy who can help us.”
Grendel paused… “what did you say to me?”
The blonde girl in front of him looked at him defiantly” I said… that wasn’t the deal…” she unbuttoned her blouse as Grendel looked on bemused. She continued as she dropped the blouse and started to unhook her bra “the deal was that I would act as your housekeeper. I would clean and cook for you for two years in… any… way…. ” Grendel smirked as she unzipped the skirt and let it drop to the floor, watching the loophole he was exploiting slowly dawn of her. “Any… way… you saw fit…” she hung her head in shame as she drew her panties down and stepped back, desperately trying to cover herself. “Go on…” Grendel said with self satisfaction, “put on the uniform.” She whined piteously as she moved toward the chair where the uniform sat. Picking it up she looked at it. The black leather of the short skirt did little to hide the chastity belt within. It had two menacing looking dildos mounted to the i…