Targeted

  “Ouch!” Emily gasped as the tiny bumps grew thorns that pricked her sensitive peak all over. Had she thought an accidental touch was painful? This was a thousand times worse—she thought she might faint from the pain! “Ow, oh my God—that hurts—take it off! Please, take it off!” She clawed frantically at her breast but the silver thimble was clamped on tight and there was no getting it off.

  “No, no—wait but a moment, little Mistress. It hurts at first but then the nubbins numb the pain.” Grandy See-er took her flailing hand and stroked it soothingly. “Just a moment more—you’ll see.”

  Emily tried to take a deep breath but it came out as more of a ragged sob. Oh God it hurt so much. Like being shot and stabbed and burned all in one of the most sensitive parts of her body at the same time! But then, gradually, she became aware that the pain was fading. Fading and being replaced by a blessed numbness. A cool tingling sensation started in her nipple and spread to her entire right breast, making her feel calm and relaxed and not nearly so upset.

  “There now—you see?” Grandy See-er asked. “Sorry to put it on you sudden-like, little Mistress, but it’s best the first one goes on quick.”

  Emily blinked tears out of her eyes and examined herself more closely.

  “Will it come off?” she asked doubtfully, looking down at her silver-tipped nipple with the long golden chains hanging from it. It looked like she’d decided to wear some kind of weird pasties like a stripper who only wanted to conceal the bare minimum of skin.

  “Oh certainly—any time,” Grandy See-er answered easily. “Of course, if you take it off too soon, it can’t do its job. And it’ll hurt twice as bad to put it back on again,” she warned as Emily began to fumble for the hinge on the side of the silver thimble.

  “It will?” She let her hands drop reluctantly to her lap where, strangely enough, the caterpillar-cat was still humming contentedly despite her earlier outburst.

  “Yes, indeedy-do,” the old lady said brightly. “But if you leave it on, twill hold back your nectar and keep you from going to the second stage of Scintil.”

  “Okay, that’s good I guess.” Emily eyed the other silver nipple cap warily. “Do I have to put that one on as well?”

  “If you want it to work. Here—” As before, the old lady was incredibly quick. Before Emily could jerk away, she was clamping the other silver thimble onto the left nipple.

  The pain that followed was intense but not quite as bad as it had been with the right nipple. Emily writhed and moaned, squeezing her hands into fists as she tried not to faint from the sharp, stabbing, burning sensation.

  To her relief, the pain began to fade quickly, replaced once more by the cooling numbness that made her feel calm and relaxed.

  “There now, there now…” Grandy See-er seemed pleased. “That’s the top taken care of. Now for down below.”

  “Down below?” Emily looked up from her contemplation of the weird nipple clamps, her heart beginning to skitter nervously in her chest. “What do you mean ‘down below?’”

  “Why, you know what I mean child—your honey pot.” Suddenly the old lady produced something that was infinitely scarier than the silver thimbles with their long golden tassels. It looked like a silver dildo, with golden studs all over, much like the ones that covered the insides of the thimbles but larger.

  “What are you expecting me to do with that?” Emily asked flatly. As if I didn’t know, whispered a little voice at the back of her brain. “Because whatever it is, I’m not doing it.”

  “Oh, so you don’t want to stop the Tenrah after all?” Grandy See-er raised one bushy silver eyebrow at her. “For I thought you did. But no matter, I’ll put it away. And perhaps you’d better give me back the nubbin pinchers too. For they’re no good without the chafing shaft, so they aren’t.” She started to get up, taking the strange silver dildo looking thing with her.

  “Wait—” Emily put out a hand to stop her.

  “Yes?” Grandy looked at her, the faded blue eyes glittering strangely. “What is it, little Mistress?”

  “Explain it to me. Just explain it.” Emily crossed her legs tightly which caused the caterpillar-cat to hiss angrily. “Tell me what it does and if it’s going to hurt.”

  “No, twon’t hurt—not like the nubbin pinchers did. Because you’re not in the third stage of Tenrah yet—you’re not into Vlammen,” Grandy explained. “And the chafing shaft will keep you from getting there. It’s star-silver as well and fits inside your well to keep your honey from flowing, do you see?”

  “Um, no—I don’t see. Does it have some kind of chemical on it?” Emily asked, frowning.

  “Mostly the star-silver itself does the job. But there’s also sssence of Yarros root and a dab of Bitter Sorrow flower from Rageron rubbed on it,” the old woman said promptly. “Keeps your well from flowing, see? Without this to stop it, your honey would flow like a fountain once you reached Vlammen. But with the chafing shaft in place, your Shift can’t continue. So you’re safe from moving forward with the stages.”

  “Okay, I guess…” Emily looked at the thing uncertainly. “But… I have to wear it inside me?”

  “Tis the only way,” Grandy assured her. “Just stand up and slip it in, old Grandy won’t look.”

  She handed the shiny silver dildo with its golden nubs to Emily matter-of-factly and then turned back to the table, busying herself with sorting through the bric-a-brac that covered it.

  Emily stood uncertainly, brushing the angry Tatem from her lap who hissed and stalked off to nurse her wounded dignity in the opposite corner. She looked down at the weird dildo thing again and shivered. Should she really do this? It looked to be about six inches long and it was fairly slim—only as thick as two of her fingers put together. Still, she hadn’t had anything inside her since that awful night with Grayson—not even a tampon. And she didn’t particularly like the idea of having to wear something inside herself all the time. Plus, how would it stay in? She didn’t see any straps to hold it on. Also, how did she know it was clean? Sure, it looked all shiny and new but—

  “Now don’t worry about the chafing shaft—tis clean and new,” Grandy said, as though reading her mind. “I made it for another Khalla but she went through the stages too quickly and wasn’t able to get here for my help in time.” She shook her head sadly. “Ah, what a tragedy that was. She was never the same after, no she twasn’t. I only wish I’d been able to help her before she changed.”

  Before she changed… The words chilled Emily to the bone. The other wasn’t bothering her right now but she could still remember the horrible dreams she’d had of it taking over her body completely. And that was what she had to look forward to if she let this process continue—the complete and total obliteration of her personality, her appearance—everything that made her her was going to be gone.

  No, I can’t let that happen—I can’t!

  Not letting herself think about it anymore, Emily reached under the short hem of her nighty, pushed her panties aside, and pressed the cold metal head of the chafing shaft against the entrance of her pussy. She gritted her teeth and pushed, trying to get the damn thing inside before she had time to regret her decision.

  To her surprise, it slid in easily. It went all the way inside her but just when she was wondering if it was going to just slide out again, something strange happened. She felt the bottom of the thing change and expand, forming a kind of metal seal around the outside of her entrance. When she felt it with her fingers, it was like a flat, metal disk about the circumference of a silver dollar and it seemed to be holding the chafing shaft inside her. At the same time, she felt the golden nubs that studded the outside of the shaft expand, growing larger and bumpier inside her. It was an odd sensation but not a painful one, she thought. So at least Grandy had been telling the truth about that.

  “Well, well, little Mistress—do you have it in?” the old lady asked, breaking her train of thought.

  Emily realized she was standing there with her nighty pul
led up, groping between her legs. Quickly she smoothed the silky blue material down over her thighs and sat back down. As she moved she felt the metal dildo shift inside her—a very weird sensation—but it wasn’t painful, just strange.

  “Yes, I’m, uh, decent,” she said and cleared her throat. “So all these things I’m wearing are going to help stop my Shift?”

  “They will indeed. You’ll never get to the next stage.” For some reason the old lady seemed to find this funny. She cackled shrilly as she surveyed Emily.

  “Okay, thank you.” The weird laughter was a little off-putting, but Emily tried to ignore it. “Thank you but you told me out by the shuttle that you could reverse the process—not just stop it. Is that possible?”

  Grandy See-er stopped laughing abruptly and looked at Emily seriously.

  “Ah, alas little Mistress, I do not have the ingredient I need to reverse your process. I thought I did but I must have used all I had left on the last Khalla I helped.”

  “Well what ingredient is it?” Emily asked. “Can you get some more of it? I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful—of course I’m very relieved to have stopped the process in it’s tracks—but I really can’t go around all the rest of my life wearing these…these things.” She gestured down at the nipple clamps and the hidden dildo which still felt weird and somehow wrong inside her. “I mean, I teach kindergarten for a living—I can’t go to work looking like something out of Fifty Shades.”

  “In order to reverse the process completely you must drink the Black Milk.” Grandy’s faded blue eyes seemed to be almost glowing in the dim room as she leaned towards Emily. “The Black Milk is the only way.”

  “Black Milk? What’s that? And how can I get some?” Emily leaned forward too, searching the wrinkled old face earnestly. “Please, I have to stop this. I have to go back to normal!”

  “Tis the sap of the Bitter Sorrow flower—it grows only on Rageron in the Holy Mountains.”

  “Wait—didn’t you say there was some of that already on the uh, the chafing shaft thing?” Emily asked, nodding down between her thighs.

  “There is but not enough to reverse the process. The sap works best when harvested fresh.” Grandy See-er nodded wisely. “You can tell the flower by the fact that it’s all black—root and stem, petal and piston—as black as night without another color in sight.”

  “So I just break the stem and drink the sap?” Emily asked? “And that will reverse the process?”

  Grandy nodded solemnly.

  “Why, twill end your sorrows, little Mistress—all of them—forever!” She laughed again, that shrill cackle which was so unlike her sweet, kind speaking voice. It set Emily’s teeth on edge but she didn’t want to seem rude so she just nodded.

  “Thank you, Grandy. I can’t thank you enough. Er…” She twisted her fingers together. “And I’m afraid I can’t pay you either. I don’t, uh, have any money.” Not that it would have done any good. A hundred dollar bill would just be a piece of paper here—they might not even use currency for money at all. Maybe they were on the barter system? Emily had no idea. It was an alien world—anything was possible.

  “No, no—don’t worry about that, little Mistress.” The old lady smiled sweetly. “You need not pay old Grandy—unless…”

  “Unless what?” Emily urged. She felt very uncomfortable about not being able to pay. Especially since Grandy had said the nubbin pinchers and chafing shaft were made of star-silver, which sounded expensive.

  “Unless you’d like to give me a lock of your pretty hair? I like to keep a lock from every Khalla I help. As a memberence—that’s all.”

  “Oh, well sure if you’d like.” Though why anyone would want a piece of her dishwater blonde hair was beyond Emily. She’d always hated the color but it didn’t take dye well at all so she was stuck with it.

  “Thankee, little Mistress.” Grandy See-er scrabbled around in the junk on the cluttered table and came up with what looked like an alarmingly large pair of shears with curving tips. But though the cutting implement was cartoonishly big, she snipped only a tiny bit of Emily’s hair. Then she wrapped it carefully in a twist of cloth and hid it away somewhere in the folds of her dress.

  “Okay, well…” Emily hesitated, not knowing what to say. Were they done here? Should she go? Could she find her way back to the shuttle by herself? She’d always had an abysmal sense of direction…

  “Take a sup of nem-nam with me afore we take you back.” Grandy was suddenly shoving a steaming cup that seemed to be made of some kind of bark into Emily’s hands. The liquid inside was very dark green and had an unappetizing algae-like smell.

  “Oh, uh…” Emily really didn’t want to drink the weird, steaming liquid but she couldn’t think of a way to refuse without hurting her hostess’s feelings. And besides, Grandy See-er had done so much for her—surely one little sip of it wouldn’t hurt? Just to be polite.

  “Come now—tis good for you, so it tis. Good for the memory.” Grandy tapped her forehead and cackled again. “And what you want to remember, little Mistress, is to keep the pinchers and the chafing shaft in place until you can get the Black Milk. Only that can set you free. The Black Milk.”

  “Thank you. I’ll remember,” Emily said meekly. Lifting the cup to her lips, she held her breath and took the smallest sip possible.

  Immediately, everything froze. Grandy, who seemed to be in the middle of saying something, stopped with her mouth open and the words half formed. The caterpillar-cat which had been in the act of crawling into Emily’s lap again, paused with one of its multiple paws resting delicately on her knee. Even the steam rising from the cup stopped moving.

  “What in the world?” Emily tried to say—only to realize that she couldn’t talk.

  She was frozen too.

  * * * * *

  “Where did she go? Why did she leave?” Tragar was frantic, already scenting the air, trying to find the trail that would lead him back to Emily.

  As if you don’t know why she left, whispered the little voice in his brain. After the fight you had—the way you spoke to her—of course she wanted to get away!

  Xen’dex was also scenting the air and the look on his face was extremely grim.

  “I think I know where your Khalla went, Tragar,” he said in a low voice. “And I know who is with her as well.”

  “What do you mean? There’s someone with her? Who?” Possessive rage burned through him like fire. “Where is the bastard? If he’s hurt her or so much as laid a finger on her I’ll kill him—I swear I will!”

  “It’s not a male—she might be safer if it was.” Xen’dex sniffed the air again. “The smell is subtle—almost covered by the Khalla’s mating scent—but it’s there. I believe she went with a lon-gon-har—a voice witch.”

  “A what? What the hell is a voice witch?” Tragar demanded.

  “A female Wulven with strange powers. Come, I’ll tell you as we go.” Xen’dex nodded into the forest.

  “But…I don’t smell anything. Or anything but Emily, anyway.”

  “That’s because you’re so attuned to her,” Xen’dex said patiently. “You’re acting as her chosen mate—you’re not interested in anyone else.”

  “I’m just trying to protect her—a job I’m failing at miserably,” Tragar groaned. “Why did I leave her in the shuttle? I knew there might be other assassins after us but I thought we’d shaken anyone who might be following by going through the wormhole. I thought it safer to leave her locked inside than risk the Wulven males scenting her.”

  “The voice witch is no assassin—if anything she’s an opportunist. She must have seen something about your Khalla that she liked and decided to take her.”

  “But why would Emily go with her? I warned her how dangerous it was to even open the door!”

  “The witch probably talked her into it. A lon-gon-har can make anyone believe what she says just by the power of her voice—especially if it’s what they want to hear.” Xen’dex was already moving off int
o the forest, sniffing the air for the scent only he could smell. “Come, we need to get to your Khalla before the witch’s spell of control is finalized. If she manages to gain a permanent foothold in your female’s mind, the consequences may be far reaching and irreversible.”

  * * * * *

  “I’ve done as you asked, now pay me.” The old witch held out a grubby paw tipped with long, dirty nails.

  “Pay her,” whispered the voice of the Master in Y’s brain. “I grow weary of her grasping ways.”

  Obediently, Y counted out the golden credit coins they had agreed to and dropped them into the dirty palm.

  “Thankee!” The witch grinned up at him, showing brownish teeth. How she had gotten the Earth female to follow her, Y had no idea. But somehow she’d cast a spell over her and had gotten the female to do all sorts of things, including clamping silver tips to her sensitive, swollen nipples which had looked extremely painful. Well, technically the witch herself had put those on but the Earth female had inserted a strange silver device between her thighs of her own volition—Y knew because he had been watching from the shadows, concealed by a ragged black curtain.

  He wondered what the little female would think if she knew a male had been watching her strange, secret actions. Would she be upset? Appalled? Not that it mattered what she thought or felt since she was soon to be dead. The witch apparently thought the same thing.

  “Now you can do with her as you wish, so you can,” she said, motioning to the Earth girl who was still frozen in place with the cup halfway to her lips.

  “Shall I kill her, Master?” Y sub-vocalized so that only the Master could hear him. Master Two might be a chip implanted just under his left ear, but he was unable to read Y’s thoughts, making it necessary to speak aloud. Y was certain that the Master would order him to step out and strangle the Earth female or perhaps just break her neck, which would be quick and easy and painless—not that he should care if he caused her any pain, he told himself. But the answer he got surprised him.

  “No—not just yet.” The Master sounded excited—almost as if he was laughing. “No, that’s too easy and this is too much fun.”