SNAP. SNAP.
Echo woke to the deafening crack of friction between fingertips, her rude and impatient awakening from the witch, her mistress, Madame Merlot.
“Is your brain so addled that you don’t even remember how to wake up properly?” The witch bemoaned. Echo skittered upright, backing herself against the silver bars of her cage. The witch’s bony fingers pursued her, nails like amethysts cutting through the air.
“This will only make things harder for you, little thief.”
Seeing no better exit strategy, Echo attempted to slip past, through the open door just past Merlot’s wrist. But even as she tried, she knew it would be in vain. Just as in her previous escape attempts, she once again found herself in the witch’s slightly-too-rough grip. She made her token protests, muffled whines that encouraged an ever so slightly tighter prison.
“It’s about time we gave you some obedience training,” Merlot informed her. “And do try to follow along consciously this time. You’re no use to me if you forget how to think straight.”
Merlot pinned Echo down to a table with an open hand, applying enough force to illustrate just how much she was holding back.
“I’m going to bring you out with me today, but only if you play along. Try to run, and you wont see light for a week. Understand?”
Echo hesitated. Then nodded as much as she could, the point of her nose pressing deep into the flesh of Merlot’s palm. She was so adjusted to the witch’s perfume that she shouldn’t even notice it by now, but under the claustrophobic heat of her, it became so heavy and intoxicating that Echo had to fight the urge to lift herself towards it as the gigantic hand slowly pulled itself away, leaving the fairy supine and exposed.
Merlot’s smile was unbearably reassuring, and genuine. She traced an absentminded circle on her upper chest, the slightly wrinkled skin shifting to follow her pressure. She was wearing an elegant nightgown, low-cut and sheer, almost like a veil.
“There’s a good girl…” Merlot purred. We might yet make something lovely out of you.”
Echo tingled at the praise, repeating inwardly that no, she hated this, she hated this. This was cruel, humiliating, and any impulse she had to melt into her captor’s honeyed words was just another one of her tricks.
And then, to her utter astonishment, Merlot turned her back on her. What was this? A lapse in judgement? A test? It was the widest opening she’d given the fairy since discovering her attempted burglary. Echo was nothing if not persistent, more than willing to take the same gamble again and again if the payout outweighed the risk, and sometimes even if it didn’t. So why wasn’t she moving? Was Merlot’s threat of darkness really enough to do her in? Echo had never been one to weigh consequences so heavily. Even now, she believed she had the power to outwit the witch, if she set her mind to it. This was a natural fairy-like impulse, and one that usually served her well. Whatever pathway suited her best, no matter its real probability, should be weighed in her favor. But then again, she was dealing with a someone who understood the workings of magic and Whimsy. Could it be that this human had a firmer conviction than her? Is that what kept her from moving? Could it be that already, she had become a believer in the witch, accepted Merlot’s version of reality over her own?
The witch chuckled to herself, warm and superior, as if reading Echo’s private thoughts.
“Well, look at that. My little thief is learning to be patient for me…”
Merlot approached again, each footstep sending small tremors through the table’s legs, rattling against Echo’s tender wings. Patient, she was so patient… why did that feel good to think? She shouldn’t be patient, she shouldn’t give in-
Echo’s conflicted thoughts were shocked into panic by the sudden clatter of metal on wood. Merlot had dropped something, an indecipherable tangle of metal and leather, mere inches away. Bands, clasps, chains. Then, on Echo’s other side, a latch clicking open on a case of some sort. Merlot drew out a pair of pliers. Echo recoiled, unwelcome thoughts of clipped wings flooding her mind.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be using these on you,” Merlot explained calmly. “Now give me your arm.”
“W-why? No…” Echo pulled back. Whatever this enchantress had in store for her, it couldn’t be good, no matter how good it felt to let it wash over her. The witch clicked her tongue irritably. Immediately, Echo was smothered under a fingertip. Its soft, grooved surface pressed mercilessly against her face, rocking back and forth, twisting down on her.
“It really is much easier if you follow directions…” Merlot’s voice was distant, focused. Echo’s arm flailed in protest, but with that usual inhuman dexterity, Merlot managed to pin it into place. Echo felt something cold against her wrist. Metal, tightening.
She gasped deep as Merlot finally withdrew her finger, eyes wide, immediately locking onto the chain she was attached to. Next to her, a metal ring. Big enough to fully encircle her. Definitely too heavy to fly with. Echo’s breath shook. It was already too late.
“Don’t look so sad,” Merlot teased, faux pity dripping from the way she drew out the words. “Don’t you know how jealous my other pets would be to come along with me like this?”
“I don’t understand…” Echo whined, “What is this? What are you going to-”
“Shhh… all in good time. Don’t worry your pretty head. Now pull in your legs.”
And again, that tingling urge to obey. This time, she did. With a smile, Merlot flipped the metal ring. Its arc passed overhead, balanced at its apex by the witch’s touch. Then she let it fall, clacking heavily as it encircled Echo’s curled-up form.
“Very good… you’re getting it. Now, stretch your limbs.”
She did, until she could feel the cold metal at every extremity. Merlot hummed to herself with pleasure, continuing to flood out Echo’s doubts with praise every time she locked another limb into its binding. The pliers flashed too close above Echo’s face as they passed, and she never put aside the thought of how easily they could fall on her, how badly she could be crushed at any moment. But the terror was kept at bay by Merlot’s steady comfort, the fluidity of the motions. She was a craftswoman. She knew what she was doing. As long as Echo stayed perfectly still and followed direction, she would be safe.
And she was.
Merlot released a held breath, the warmth washing over Echo and lingering in the metal around her wrists. Echo breathed it in, deeply, so relieved with the disappearance of the pliers that she almost stopped wondering what the next step of this process would be. Then, without any warning or ceremony, Merlot snatched up the accessory Echo was attached to and tossed it onto her bed. Echo winced at the landing, the sudden flooding of sensations was more unnerving than painful, but still pulled a yelp from her that was quickly muffled by the plush comforter.
There was a heavy whumph as Merlot sat herself on the bed, a jingling sound as she picked up the accessory, lowering it past her leg. On the wall across from Echo, there was a mirror. She watched herself through it distantly, as if watching someone else. Merlot raised her leg, manicured toes brushing past Echo’s wings as they slipped into… her garters. That’s where Echo was imprisoned. She was going to spend all of the day pressed up tight to Merlot’s thigh, a decoration at her hip. The other leg followed. Then, the ascent. The closeness of skin against Echo’s wing membrane, carefully lifting her higher, closer. A rolling wave, a brushing sound, then a soft snap, the band settling into place.
Merlot stood, admiring herself in the mirror. Her nightgown barely went past her hips, its frills tickling at Echo’s antennae. She traced a finger down her side, flicking it upwards when it reached her rear, and patting it playfully. Echo could feel it jiggle against her back, and she felt every muscle in the witch’s thigh shift as she continued her preparations. Pacing around her bedroom, selecting her dayclothes. Tightness when she sat down, an immense rolling under the surface as she walked. Echo was swimming in sensations, watching the world go by, and perceiving very little of it. It was a blessing to her when the dark fabric of Merlot’s dress draped over her, plunging her into darkness. Echo shut her eyes, felt the fabric brush against her face, detected the slightly emphasized scent of the witch as the airflow slowed. She sunk into the steady booming of footsteps. It was almost peaceful. Maybe there were worse punishments for a thief like her.
Then, there was light against Echo’s eyelids. She opened them to see her own reflection, framed by a slit in the side of her mistress’s dress, parted by the witch’s fingers.
“You’re taking so well to this, my dear thief. What do you say we go visit that apprentice of yours and tie up some loose ends?”
That slight touch of ire in Merlot’s voice brought Echo back to her senses, but it was far too late to do anything about it. The witch’s palm came down, smothering her protests, and the curtains of her dress fell once more around the helpless, captive fairy.