[cerindclvr]

(I hadn't noticed any stories of the fantasy genre here, but I figured no one would particularly mind... and so, with no small sense of satisfaction, I give you what is hopefully the first installment of what I've tentatively titled "The Enferia Chronicles." The first 'literary' contribution of mine to the ENF community. Hope ya like.)

Part I: Sharessa v Christine

In the land of Enferia, a land of swords and sorcery on some distant world that once resembled our own, there exists an arena where queen and commoner alike can come seeking entertainment. The Grand Arena, the large, stone structure with the immense sandy dueling area, caters to two base desires. Some come to see blood spilled upon the sand, and others come out of lust. Half of the time gladiators come to fight in great battles, and the other half of the time… the people come to see stripping games and lewd sex acts.
It was on one such day, one of the designated times when no blood was to be spilt in the arena, when the victim of our little story (and she is the victim, mind you) came stumbling out past the portcullis and onto the hot sand of the pit. She was a slight little thing, the crowd could immediately see, dressed in dark blues and greens – baggy, shapeless wizard robes, by the look of it. Standing and brushing herself off, Sharessa squinted dark emerald orbs up at the crowd, the unforgiving sun stinging her exotic, almond-shaped eyes. Already the swarms of people around the edge of the arena were shouting in excitement and approval. Maybe it was her fair skin and lustrous mane of raven hair. And those pointed ears – she was an elf! The exotic-looking, disoriented elf girl looked very much out of place in the harsh spectacle, shielding her eyes from the light as if she’d been in the pits below the arena for some time.
Retying her hair in a more practical ponytail, Sharessa still had a few loose tresses which hung in front of those green eyes of hers as she stared across the ring at where her opponent should’ve been.
“Gods, how did I get into this mess..? Oh yes…” she pondered quietly to herself as her heart raced. The round little man with the booming voice, the arena announcer, stepped forth from the bottom of the queen’s canopied personal seating area. In a shout much louder than he should’ve been capable of, he began announcing the start of the match.
“We bring before our illustrious queen Syndra today a match befitting her station! A duel of sorceresses most grand: from the far west, and elven maiden quite adept in the magical arts, brought to the arena today to answer for her crimes… Sharessa!”
The crowd roared and cheered and booed all at once, and the waifish elf girl brandished her wand from within one of her baggy sleeves – a slender wooden thing, tipped with a bit of smoky green crystal. She blinked a bit, looking up at the queen now and taking a slow breath. Though she was sitting in the middle of a small crowd of retainers and body guards under her canopy, Sharessa could barely make out the beautiful, fire-haired sorceress-queen Syndra, the one she had offended to end up here. How was she supposed to know all the intricacies of human law and custom anyways? It’s not like she wanted to be-
The young sorceress’ attention was snapped back to reality as the announcer boomed excitedly:
“And of course, the one you all know and love: The violator of damsels, denuder of the proud… the mysterious Grey Witch… Christine..!” As his voice rose dramatically and the crowd churned in fervor, the sand of the arena floor began to swirl in a spontaneous cyclone around where Sharessa figured her opponent should’ve been standing. The small swirling cloud quickly diminished, leaving a shapely woman standing, posing, in its place. Sharessa’s eyes widened slightly as she spotted her opponent, beautiful as she was.
Dark, gold-grey eyes stared from behind curly blond tresses right at Sharessa. Her opponent’s hair reached about mid-back, the same length as her own hair, and as thick and lustrous, but much wavier. With a haughty toss of her head, Christine shook that mane back, over her bare shoulders, as she took a few steps towards her foe, coming more fully into view out of the dying cloud of sand.
The Grey Witch was dressed scantily, in something resembling a very short wedding gown. The tight, faded white garment was very sheer, gauzy even, and clung tightly to her athletic curves and full, round hips. Her thick thighs were largely exposed, too, what with the skirt barely reaching mid-thigh. Leather sandals were laced up her toned calves and matched the set of strange leather bracers the witch wore… Sharessa found herself blushing slightly at the shameless woman – her society was much more reserved, as her clothing would show – her own robes were baggy and hid what little curves she had, for now.
“You all know the game: first one naked, loses!” The announcer shouted excitedly. Everyone was familiar with it, except Sharessa, really. They’d told her through the bars of her dark and musty prison cell earlier today that she could earn her freedom through a series of ambiguous but non-violent arena games in which she was required to use her skills as a mage. At the time it seemed like a no brainer, but as her pale face reddened slightly and she watched the predatory grin grow on her foe’s face, the girl’s mind was racing.
Christine hummed softly from across the pit as she mused to herself in a sensual, husky voice. “I like this one… I think I’m going to take my time with her and put on a good show for the queen…” she chuckled.
“H-hail,” Sharessa managed to squeak, raising her empty hand in greeting. “I, uh… do we..?” the elf began to mutter her uncertain questions as to what happens next when the announcer yelled a sudden: “BEGIN!”
When Sharessa’s eyes snapped back to her opponent from the fat little announcer, she gasped as she saw no one there at all. She trembled in abject shock as she heard the seductive voice resonate from right behind her, next to her ear. As she stiffened in fear, Christie whispered: “Let’s get you into something a little more exciting, shall we..?” And with the muttering of a few mystic syllables, the witch let loose a shrinking spell on the girl’s robes.
“What? Hey..!” Sharessa finally managed to spin about and point her wand at the sorceress standing right behind her. “B-back off! I don’t want to d… huh?” Sharessa found herself gasping again as her clothes began to shift and constrict uncomfortably. Christine chuckled softly, covering her full lips with a hand as she watched the young mage fidget and attempt to adjust her clothing. She really didn’t know what was going on? This was going to be fantastic…
Sharessa paled in growing horror as she looked down to see the hem of her robe riding up gradually. Her leather boots only reached mid-calf on her slender but shapely legs, the majority of which was coming into view all too quickly. By the time her robe was done shrinking, it more resembled a miniskirt, and her bare thighs were on display. Long sleeves became short sleeves, and the neckline of the upper part of her robe, which had formerly been nonexistent, now dipped dangerously close to her smallish breasts. Her attempts to tug the ‘skirt’ any lower than mid-thigh were hopeless.
“Oh, so you do have some curves on you after all…” the witch taunted as her chuckle grew into an open laugh. “And they can all see, too…” Gesturing upward idly, Christine directed Sharessa’s eyes to something she’d not noticed before. Hovering several stories directly above the arena floor was a large clear glass sphere, easily the size of a small house. Shining inside the orb was an all-too-clear image, a ‘close up’ of the fight so that the audience would have a better view of the action. Her eyes widened yet again as she spied the current close up of the way her top was stretched across her pert little tits, with just a hint of nipple outline, so thin had it become. The poor thing was so distraught that she didn’t notice Christine at work again, during her distraction. A simple bit of telekinesis would shear that robe right down the middle, in front. Sharessa’s eyes were so glued on that orb above her that she didn’t realize what was happening until she saw the front of her robe pop open in that very sphere.
“I thought it looked a bit tight on you… that feels better, no?” Christine cooed. The crowd roared again in excitement as so much pale flesh came into view. Thankfully, Sharessa was wearing a set of lacy elven undergarments that must’ve seemed exotic or skimpy to all these… humans. The strapless light green bra and boy short-like panties were only in view for a few moments before she shrieked, clamped her knees together, and tugged the robe back shut. Clutching the torn garment together, wand still in the white knuckle grip of her delicate little hand, Sharessa stumbled back, barely keeping her footing.
“Stay back! I mean it..!” She shouted with as much sternness as she could muster, gesturing threateningly with her wand. Though her robe was fluttering open a little, she managed to keep it mostly shut with her free hand… but even as the young elf threatened, Christine began to walk towards her calmly and smoothly, those hips swaying beneath her tattered garment. Cringing, Sharessa whisked her wand in the arcane motion of a simple blasting spell, and the spherical ripple of condensed air it produced went flying towards the witch.
With a nonchalant gesture, like one would shoo flies, Christine repelled the magical attack with the back of her hand and sent it thundering back towards the petrified elf with more force than before. Now, in a violent match the blast would’ve possibly broken some bones or knocked her unconscious when the melon-sized ball of force smacked straight into the slender thing’s chest. Due to the magical wards and protections surrounding the arena though, Sharessa would only feel the air get knocked out of her lungs as she skidded back a foot or two, struggling to remain upright. The swirling orb of hard air seemed to grind into her torso for a few moments, slowly losing power as she crossed her forearms in front of her in a feeble attempt to block it. During the windy blast of force, her robe of course came fluttering open, her adorable, high pitched screams drowned out by the sound of the spell.
The crowd was chanting: “Christie! Christie!” The nickname of the witch filled Sharessa’s delicate ears as her arms were blasted behind her by the spell, and with them, her robe. The now thin, ragged robe peeled slowly down her thin limbs, the tight sleeves the only thing keeping it on her for those few torturous moments. Finally, the garment came flying off of her arms, leaving her in boots, bra, and panties when the blast finally dispersed and she shakily regained her balance. With her hair disheveled and somehow miraculously still bound in a ponytail, Sharessa dazedly shook her head and brushed some of those raven locks out of her face before she realized how much more naked she’d become, and why exactly the crowd was laughing and cheering. Looking down with another horrified expression, mouth agape, she squealed a “noo!” and threw her slender arms over the pert little buds of breasts that were barely concealed by that strapless bra, and clamped her thighs together.
“That’s gotta be embarrassing, folks,” the announcer taunted in a casual but magically amplified tone. “I mean, completely repelled the force blast… and left her in some very nice looking elven undergarments, if I may say so. Let’s get a closer look, eh?” the pudgy little man rubbed his balding head and looked behind him, as if speaking to some unseen director. Sure enough, the large viewing sphere overhead was showing an enlarged view of the delicate light green lace covering the curves of her shapely rear in lewd detail, right down to the way the lower part of her ass cheeks dipped out of the boy shorts, and the way they rode up into her crevice slightly. Mortified, she’d immediately throw a hand behind her to cup her ass and cover her crotch from behind, which the viewing sphere had been threatening to show next if it kept zooming in.