You sip your drink, and think about how much you dislike this bar. It's full of assholes and dicks, but tonight you have a plan. Tonight you are going to fix one of the assholes, but good. A table of frat bros has been obnoxious all night, while you have sat and watched and thought. The one in the popped collar and blue & white striped polo has been the worst of them by far. A quick peek at your watch and you see it's after midnight, the perfect time to spring. A quick push, and your breasts stand out more. You down the rest of your drink and make your move. With an exaggerated sway, you walk up to the table. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a penchant for harassing waitresses, he will do fine; you think as you make your move. “You're cute, you know that?” Laying it on thick, you lean over the table and let your mark have a look down your shirt. He looks you up and down with a glassy eyed gaze and grins drunkenly. “She's into you dude, go for it!” one of his friends encourages him on. It's all you can take to keep your grin up around these jerks.
You take a deep breath as the lights come into your mirrors. “Time for you to earn your keep driver-girl.” Ramona unhelpfully adds as you slam your foot on the accelerator to the old car. The local police car grows in your mirror faster than you were expecting. With the custom work Jan had done to her car you figured you could just dust the local yokels. Your view is obstructed for a moment, as Jan shifts down to the floor “Let her focus on the driving, Mona” followed by a zipper being pulled down. “You are insatiable, can't you wait?” Jan's only response is to lick Ramona's member.
You are forced into a kneeling position, Laureth has turned her back to you and is fixing her hair in the reflection-less mirror. Her thralls grab you by the shoulders to stop your struggling. The one to your right smells to be of Laureth's own creation, while the one on your left is some sort of snake woman. If you were still human, she would make your skin crawl; as it is you see her as a cruel japery of the natural order. Laureth, finally satisfied, turns and walks over to you. She grabs you by the jaw and tips your head back to meet her eyes. “Oh my dear sister, you really thought you could keep me from ascending to our creator's throne?” “Spare me your disdain, and don't call me your sister. You broke our creator's heart when you left.” She shakes her head and laughs. “Dear sister,” she adds pointedly “I broke her heart long before that, besides, you think I could have left had she willed otherwise? In the end she wanted me gone as much as I wanted to leave, and so, I did.”
You wake up bright and early, even though your appointment isn't until the afternoon. Your girlcock strains hard against the small metal cage you have kept it trapped in for the last two years. You wonder if she knows she is going to get a brief moment of freedom today. Far too excited to get back to sleep, you get out of bed and pull the basket of clean laundry over next to you. You toss your work clothes off to the side, and pick a cute top with an abstract pattern, pairing it with a solid black knee length skirt. It looks mild outside, so you skip leggings. You finish getting dressed in a few moments, and spend several minutes admiring yourself in the mirror. Your pert breasts look good in the form fitting top, though your cage causes a small bulge under the skirt. This is first time in a long time it has done so. The sensation of your cage wagging around free under the skirt, instead of held close with tight panties, makes you feel a little dirty. You straighten your skirt as much as you can, and accept the tiny bulge. It will be the last time she'll have the chance to do that to you.
Your sleep is fitful, and you dream of what your life was even just a few days ago. Living with her, she gave your life meaning. Each time you see her in your dreams, she slips through your fingers and disappears into the fog again. Like she did when she fled to the forbidden woods. By the time you wake your captor is moving around their home, changing the contents of piles while talking to themselves. It is a few more minutes before they realize you are awake. “Make yourself useful, start sorting through the rest of the furs. Anything burned, or with the bitter stench of that oaf Gorlom, haul out and off the edge.” Even from your back, you see the pile is taller than the dragon standing before you. To call the task daunting is an understatement, even the lighter of the pelts and furs are weighty for you. It's been a very long day since you last had food and your stomach rumbles along to that realization.
The first thing you are aware of is the pounding headache, the second is how much your muscles each ache. Opening your eyes, you find you can see very little as you sit up. All you see is a smear of color, and you try to rub out the blur from your eyes. Finally, blinking repeatedly, you bring the double vision into focus; the headache is now only screaming. As your vision sets you discover yourself to be sitting in a cage, you can just make out other cages at the edge of what you can see in the dimly lit room. It's cool in the cell, as you realize that you are naked. Rubbing your arms together for warmth you look around the cell. You cannot stand, or stretch out all the way without sticking your legs though the bars. You are grateful that the floor of the cage is some sort of padded mat. It's not the most comfortable thing, but it's far better than something hard like concrete.
“Wake up, we got a schedule to keep.” Jan says before yanking the blanket off of you and Ramona. You wipe the sleep from your eyes, and see that it's still dark out. “Dammit Jan, what time is it? Did we even get to sleep?” Ramona groggily asks. “It's four, now get up dear, we got a lot of work to do.” You sit on the side of the bed, looking for your jeans. Spying your pants across the dark room, you retrieve them along with your top and socks. Your panties seem to be lost to the ages, and you give up looking for them after Jan coaxes Ramona into getting dressed. The three of you take the elevator down, and then out the back entrance to the hotel.
The mid-morning light streams in from the window, and into the glass of your eyes. Your owner must have gotten up earlier, she isn't in bed. Deciding to make the bed before she returns, you move to get out of the bed but your left leg refuses to move. The gyroscopic ball joint has been grinding for weeks now, but has never completely locked up before. If your delicate clockwork nervous system could experience pain, you are sure your body would be aching now. The front door slams shut, it must be your owner coming back in. Trying to stand before she can see you like this, you pull yourself to the edge of the bed and steady yourself with your right leg. Perched on the edge of the bed, you pull your left leg to the edge. The actuator has been acting up more, and limiting your movement; but this is the first time it's refused to fire at all. “dolly, has your spring wound down? Are you alright?” You hear your owner call from out of the room. You don't want to upset her with more work, but you need help now. She walks in before you can answer, a frown on her face. She stands in the door, jeans and plaid button up on. “Left hip locked up? I have noticed how restricted your movements have been. Your right knee too; and I know both of your wrists are stripping out too.” She walks to the edge of the bed and looks at the clear plex-steel shell of your right arm.
You wipe the sweat from your brow and sit on one of the larger rocks that litter the ground around you. The only road through this part of the Hazy Mountains is thoroughly blocked. Rummaging through your pack you dig out your map and unroll it on the ground. A day and a half to get back to Crumblerock, then three heading north to Highbridge and pass through the mountains there, before heading south again to finally reach Bluelake. Counting up the days on your fingers, you realize that you will arrive days too late. Master Selg will be displeased if his bid is too late to be considered, enough to cost you your position in the guild. Looking at the map again, you try to read the scratched off paths and trails. Maybe something that isn't suitable for wagons will do for you? Squinting hard, it looks like a path south of you was only scratched off twenty or thirty years ago. South here means venturing closer to the Dragon Realms, and the thought of running into a dragon chills your blood. But the map's trail only adds a day at most to your trip, plenty of time to reach Bluelake. Besides, if an actual dragon was roosting this close to Crumblerock the little village would have been abandoned. Likely the trail fell apart somewhere, possibly taking wagons with it.
The intercom buzzes with an order to report to the administrator's office. Your mind starts to race, you couldn't be in trouble again, could you? You've been making quota on the transcriptions that you have been tasked to. Slowly, you push your chair back from the desk. With a deep slow breath, you rise and push the chair back in. No one else in the room, save your 'supervisor', watches you walk quietly exit the room with your head hung low. It's a moderate walk across the complex, through the well-trimmed grass and manicured trees do little to raise your spirits here in the best of times. The dull concrete box that is the administration building looms large over the complex, it's position on the eastern side causes the building's shadow to cast over a good deal of the property training facility, as they call it. You slide your identity card through the reader and the electronic lock disengages. Putting your shoulder against the heavy door, you shove it open and enter the administration building. A pair of hyenas in white uniforms stand guard and watch you silently as you walk to the kiosk in the middle of the room. Another run of your card, and the kiosk directs you to elevator three.