The Threadbinders Ch. 01

The lodging wasn't much -- clearly whatever furniture had belonged to the previous owner had been reclaimed upon their passing, but still a single bed remained, as well as a chair. The elves had even gone out of their way to construct a small series of steps to allow Arkady to climb into the bed, as it was too high above the ground for him to do so otherwise.

"They seemed nice people," he said to his wife, sliding the cap off his head, the cottage having a roaring fire to keep the inside of it warm. It was no molten iron furnace, but it would do for an evening, and was better than having to build a fire themselves somewhere.

"Do you think the girl's going to change her mind?" Yasha asked, as her husband took a small vial of red pigment from his satchel, setting it on the steps, starting his preparations for the upcoming ritual to begin shortly.

He shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "I thought she might when she found out I was the Threadbinder and you were the Threatbinder, but when she spoke... Nay, that is the determination of a woman who has decided that she is unhappy with the lot her life has dealt her up to this moment, and will not be stopped in her efforts to change it."

"When you took your clothes off for the baths, I thought some of the locals were going to faint. I always forget that some of these more rural elves aren't used to the amount of natural hair you have beneath your clothes."

He shrugged a little. "I suspected they were just as transfixed by our scars, both yours and mine, my love, but let them look and let them talk. They will have their stories to tell long after we have taken our leave of this place."

From the door came a quiet rapping of knuckles. "Seems she has arrived," Yasha said. "I'll let her in." She moved over to the door and pulled it in, revealing the girl, Zestry, standing on the other side of it, her fingers knotted together, her face looking down at her hands. She wore a dress now, whereas in the morning she had been dressed in a tunic and trousers, leather boots disappearing up underneath the falling fabric at her calves. "Come in, come in, no need to be shy, girl. This is as natural as anything else in our worlds, but I think everyone is nervous."

Zestry looked up at her, as if in sudden revelation. "You found each other through threadbinding?" she asked, as Yasha ushered the girl in, closing the door behind her quickly so as to not let any of the comfortable heat escape the room. "A dwarf and an elf? Isn't that quite unusual?"

"Unusual, I suppose," Arkady said, grabbing the vial, as he strode over towards the girl. "But quite unusual? Not hardly. Threads are complicated business, and while many a soul chooses to go the natural path, bound threads have a power unto themselves that cannot be denied."

"Who was the seeker in your relationship?" Zestry asked, walking alongside the dwarf over towards the bed.

"It was me," Yasha said. "My Arkady was still in training to become a Threadbinder when I enlisted the aid of a different Threadbinder, Valyria, to help me found whom my thread was bound to."

"Did it... was there..." the girl said, struggling to find a way to ask her question so as to not offend the dwarf.

"Did it cause a ruckus?" he chuckled. "Oh aye. An elvish princess being bound to a dwarvish war veteran attempting to change his course in life after a great injury? Much commotion was made in my wife's family. Her brother, in fact, insisted the Threadbinder had to be wrong, that it was impossible for someone so highborn to be paired with someone so... earthy."

Yasha rolled her amber colored eyes in amusement. "My brother has earth for brains, by my reckoning," she grumbled. "No insult to earth intended. My mother, however, knew better than to dispute a Threadbinder's reading, and besides, my heart leaped from my chest the moment I saw my husband-to-be. It was exactly how the stories tell it, only greater still, and never once have I regretted the binding. I thanked Valyria with all my might, and have never forgotten the great gift she gave me."

"Wait, a woman was your Threadbinder?" the girl asked, looking up at Yasha with wide eyes filled with curiosity. "And the payment...?"

"Was paid as any Threadbinder is paid, yes."

"What do you do when a young man comes to you seeking your services, Master Dwarf?"

"He pays my wife and she operates as a sort of go-between," he said, catching her meaning. "Some Threadbinders, many Threadbinders actually, refuse contracts if the payment is unappealing to them, but since I hold no shame in my profession, my wife aides me in those I do not directly partake in. Why, would you rather we go that route? I know many elves consider themselves too good to sully with the presence of a dwarf in their bed."

"No!" the girl said suddenly, her hand curling around his shoulder, as if in terror that she might have offended him. "I meant no disrespect in any way, Master Dwarf, and will be more than happy to pay my portion to you." She laughed a little nervously. "I supposed I was more wondering how you reacted when some strapping young lad approached you in need of your services. You strike me as the type that prefers the fairer sex. I offered no judgment on if you partook personally or if there was a go-between. I had heard tales that some Threadbinders enjoy both sexes while others only one, and neither is any better nor worse than the other."

He nodded. "Male flesh holds no appeal to me, but when Yasha and I were wed, we agreed that because of our particular professions, neither of us would get jealous of the other, and that we would both share in the bindings, both threat and thread, and together we would remain."

"Basically, dear girl, as part of his trade, he lays a lot of women, and it's only fair that he let me dally with a boy now and then who comes seeking his counsel. They never measure up to him anyway," she said with a wise smile.

Zestry giggled a little bit, holding her slender fingers to her mouth. "Well then, sire, I hope my flesh holds some appeal to you, as I wouldn't want to simply be a burden upon your skills without offering payment worth their time."

He smirked a little bit, reaching one of his fat fingers up to brush across her jawline. "You're a cheeky one, aren't you, girl? Aye, your face is pretty enough, with straight teeth and a symmetrical enough face. I don't anticipate having a poor evening." His voice was like distant thunder, low and rumbling, and it seemed to send a shiver down the girl's spine. "You've been with a man before? Or will I be your first?"

"I've been with a couple of different elvish boys here in the village," Zestry admitted shyly, "when I thought that mayhap I would have a partner within these familiar spaces, but I felt like a player in a very poorly written play, reading lines that had no poetry in them, no soul. And the stories of love brought together by the Threadbinders... that is what I want, very much. What I have always dreamed of. From the moment I saw the symbols upon your tunic, I have thought of nothing else."

"Nothing else?" he asked with a hint of mirth.

"Well, I would be remiss if I didn't confess a fleeting moment of concern about the stories regarding dwarvish anatomy, but I did say I would not be dissuaded by any cost, so I reminded myself of that, and then thought of nothing else."

He took the vial between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it to secure it as he began to shake it, the contents within liquifying once more and starting to blend together from their congealed state having been unused for several days. "And the price, your price, you understand what it is, and are prepared to pay it?" He glanced inside of the vial, inspecting the liquid within, spotting large granules still floating within, as he began to shake it more.

"One orgasm given, one orgasm taken, and two years of vitae surrendered."

"You're easy enough on the eyes," Arkady said with a slight grin, "that I'll even lower the price down to a single year of vitae."

"I wouldn't want to underpay you for your services, good sir Threadbinder. If the standard rate is two years of vitae, I should pay the standard rate."

He shrugged a little. "Business has been good in our travels as of late, and the amount of vitae is a discretionary decision made by each individual Threadbinder. One year will more than suffice."

"For particularly unappealing clientele," Yasha said, "I have seen him charge as much as five years of vitae, simply to make sure the patron truly wants the service. In those cases, the taking of the orgasm can often be the tricky part, and so my husband merely wants to ensure we're being fairly compensated for the work."

"Does... have you ever found that anyone whom you've brought for binding has been upset that you've had carnal relations with their new partner before they have?"

"Only the once," Arkady said with a dry chuckle. "And even then only momentarily, as those emotions were eclipsed as soon as the man laid eyes on the woman who had hired me to bind her thread. I take great pride in the fact that I have always followed a thread to both ends correctly."

The girl moved to toss another couple of logs onto the fire, clearly wanting to bring the temperature of the room to a comfortable roast. She then turned back to look at him, swallowing a little bit. "So, not to be indelicate, good sir Threadbinder--"

"No," Yasha exhaled in mock exasperation, "it is not true that dwarves have barbed cocks, and whomever started such slander does not deserve any kindness in their lives."

Zestry giggled a little, holding her hand to her mouth. "That wasn't what I was going to ask, m'lady! I was going to ask..." she trailed off, her face darkening with blood and blush.

"Speak plainly and quickly, girl, or we won't have you threadbound until well into morning, and none of us will get any sleep," Arkady said, humor undercutting his tone.

"Are dwarvish cocks any smaller or bigger than elvish cocks, sire?"

"They're different," Yasha said. "But on the average, I would say they are not generally as long as elvish cocks, but certainly far thicker on the average. And while this may simply be personal preference speaking, I specifically have found them generally more satisfying."

"Well, he is your husband, m'lady," Zestry said with a smile. "Shall I undress now?"

Arkady nodded, gesturing with one hand as his other gave the vial in his hand a few more shakes. "I would hope so, otherwise the markings will be rather difficult to apply."

The elvish girl nodded, reaching down to draw her dress up and over her head, setting it aside, leaving her in her boots, her underpants and a brassiere that looked rather expensive for a girl in a small village. The dwarf pointed at it, admiring the craftsmanship. "That's unexpected. That looks like gnomish handiwork, if I'm not mistaken."

Zestry blushed a little, as she was reaching down to loose her boots so she could pull them off one after another. "It is, Master Dwarf. It was a gift from my aunt when she came passing through in the spring. She was the one who encouraged me to consider searching for a Threadbinder to help me find my one true mate, as she had done long ago. That had taken her far from here, and I am uncertain if my mother has truly ever forgiven her sister for leaving. Now here I am, following in her footsteps," she said, tugging off the second boot, setting it aside. "Will I be bound to someone very far from here, or will you only know that once you begin?"

He smiled a little bit, as he uncorked the vial. "I know nothing about your thread until the ritual has begun, dear girl, so your mate could be just on the other side of the hill, or across several oceans. No need for concern, however. We will convey you there, as per the contract." He saw her about to sit on the bed and clicked his tongue to summon her attention once more. "Fully nude."

"Might..." the girl started saying before stopping a moment. Then she started once more. "Might I simply keep the brassiere on, sir?"

"Not how it works," Yasha said, moving across the room to place her hand on the younger elf's shoulder reassuringly. "He will need all your skin as canvas upon which to paint so the magics can take hold and the thread can be visible to his eyes. But he is the kindest soul I know, Zestry. You have no need to fear of his gaze."

The girl nodded a moment, resigning herself to the final steps. As a dwarf, Arkady had always found the difference between lifespans of the various races fascinating. The dwarvish lifespan spurted early, and a dwarf was basically of full maturity in terms of size and stature by only ten years time, whereas the elves were well into seventy years before they were considered adults. And yet, the two species lived generally the same length of time on the average, five hundred years or so.

The non mages, anyway.

Zestry reached in front of her to unclasp the front of the brassiere, a series of hooks undone one after another after another before she peeled the two cups away from her breasts, exposing her tender flesh to the two mage's eyes.

Yasha knew immediately why the girl had shown such hesitance, and it wasn't the presence of her husband. While the younger elf had two perfectly formed lush teardrop shaped breasts, one of them had a blotch of purple discoloration along the outer side of it, a large imperfection on the girl's alabaster skin, one that she clearly had yet to come to terms with.

"I... I am sorry to offend thine eyes with my marred flesh, my lord, but I have always been this way, and the healers know not for way to cure me of this affliction."

And then Arkady did the best thing he could possibly do in the circumstances, an action that made his wife very proud indeed. He wasn't attempting to put on false airs. It was his genuine natural reaction, and the sound blurted out from him before he was even aware of it.

The jolly dwarf laughed.

"Marred? Be gods, girl," he said, shaking his head bemusedly. "For an elf, you have a very lovely pair of tits, and if none of the elves in this village can see that, you're too good for them."

Zestry looked at him in surprise and astonishment, her eyes blinking repeatedly in confusion. "But, the mark, the blemish upon my flesh, the sign my skin is unclean..."

"No more of that, girl," Arkady said as he pressed his thumb to the opening the vial, flipping it over to make some of the liquid ooze onto his thumb, then flipping it back. "It is a birthmark, and it is no more a blemish than my beard is, and if you disparage my beard, I assure you, we will trek as slowly as possible to your threadbound. Am I making myself clear?"

The elvish girl smiled shyly, nodding a little, as he began to take his thumb and draw runes upon her body with the pigmentation he'd smeared on it from the vial. "Yes, Master Dwarf. I know well enough never to insult a dwarf's beard, and it seems a very fine beard, although I have seen few others to compare it to."

"Damn straight," Arkady said, leaning back from the girl so she could push her underpants down to the wooden floor, stepping clear of them to leave her nude to the two mage's eyes. Though he had lain with many an elf in his time, he still never understood how they managed to live with so little hair upon their bodies.

Elves bore only hair on the tops of their head, and brows atop of their eyes. That was all the hair any of them ever had. No whiskers, no fine coat upon their arms, legs or feet, no hair beneath their arms or upon their genitals, nothing upon their chests. Why, the greatest elf of all time was completely incapable of growing even the simplest of mustaches. No wonder, he thought to himself, the elves did so poorly in cold environs.

The fist-sized splatter of purple color upon her right breast was the only pigmentation upon her flesh, with toned, thighs and a neatly tucked in vagina. The girl did not cross her hands over her crotch, as many did, but instead kept her arms at her sides, as Arkady leaned in again to continue drawing runic symbols upon her flesh, one after another.

The fleshlighting was the most complicated part of the ritual, but Arkady had always been good at knowing which symbols would be required for which supplicant, and was able to completely mark up a patron in less than a quarter of an hour.

Behind her, Yasha was peeling back the covers from the bed, opening it up invitingly. Once the sheets were in place, she began to disrobe as well, which made Zestry turn to look suddenly, then look away, almost embarrassed. "Is... are you part of the ceremony as well, m'lady? I know frightening little of the Threadbinder rituals."

"My husband and I are partners in all things, Zestry, and I would no sooner leave him alone during this than he would me during a Threatbinder ritual," Yasha said, removing her clothes one at a time, folding them, setting them in a pile on a dresser near the bed. "When the ritual is done, we will all spend one night together, and the next day, we will convey you along your thread."

Arkady continued to apply pigmentation in shapes and swirls upon the girl's flesh, and he could see her pink nipples stiffen as his thumb brushed over them, the excitement of the moment clearly beginning to get to her.

"Might... may I ask a few more questions, Master Dwarf?" she said, nervously.

"Mmm. As my father once said, 'you may always ask and the worst that shall ever happen is that I shall not answer,' so carry on with your questions," he said to her as he applied three wavy lines stacked one atop another on her belly.

"Do... do you enjoy the gifted orgasms that power the ritual, or has it become rote at this point, simply something you go through the motions with?"

He chuckled a little, spinning her around, so he could begin to apply pigmentation to her back. "If a Threadbinder is bored with sex, then only the shortest of threads will be visible to them, and that level of cheap magic no one wants to pay for. Some are more enjoyable than others, but there is always at least a base pleasure to be taken from each experience."

"What was your most enjoyable experience with a client? Was it with an elf?"

Yasha giggled a little as she slid out of her underpants, leaving her naked flesh exposed. Her breasts were larger than Zestry's, but so were her hips, and Arkady much more enjoyed his wife's plump ass than the almost flat ass the younger girl had. "Corienne, most assuredly."

The dwarf chuckled deep and warmly, nodding his head. "Corienne indeed," he said. "No, she was no elf. She was a dragon."

"A dragon?" the girl gasped. "How... how is such a thing even physiologically possible?"

"Dragons are form shifters, my dear," Yasha said, taking the girl's hand and giving it a squeeze, encouraging her to lift her gaze and look upon her naked form. Her family status often meant that other elves needed to be reminded that this was all part of the ritual, and that to look upon her form was not sacrilege, no matter how the nobleborn normally acted. "So she had not one form for the ritual, but several."

"Made it a damnable time with the runes, but dragons have their own natural magic that amplifies all other spellwork, and Corienne insisted she make it an experience I would remember, as dragons so rarely seek out Threadbinders for their work," he said, lingering upon the memory perhaps a moment longer than he'd intended to. "It was quite the honor for me, and quite the sexual experience for the two of us."

"And what was the worst?"

Yasha clicked her tongue in disdain. "Weedthrusher?"

Arkady shuddered a moment, nodding quite emphatically. "Oh, aye, a thousand times over. I hate to speak ill of her, as it truly wasn't her fault, but..."