Lock and Key

Oliver awoke in the morning, his tiny body sore and aching but otherwise unhurt from his nocturnal adventures with Thomasin the night before. Sitting up in the facecloth he used as a billet, he glanced over at the gigantic woman on the bed beside the night table where he had slept.

 It was not long before Thomasin awoke, sleepy eyes, a pleasant dreamy smile on her face.

“Good morning,” greeted Oliver.

“Good morning,” she replied.

Neither spoke of the intricacies of their intimate play the night before as they prepared for the day. Thomasin went down to the kitchen area and ate a meager breakfast, bringing Oliver a few morsels of egg, fruit, and bacon.

Oliver spent the drive to Inverness in the cup holder of the rental car. Thomasin lined the cup holder with Kleenex to provide him some cushion. The weather started out slightly overcast, but as the day and journey progressed, the sun finally broke through and brightened the day. Given the gravity of the day to come, both were fairly silent, choosing instead to listen to the radio, channeling in classic rock through CFRQ-FM, The Mighty Q.

With GPS, it was easy enough to locate the coordinates Agnes provided. Getting to the location, a densely wooded hillock southwest of Inverness off Broad Cove Banks road, proved an entirely different problem. Although only a kilometer from the road, it took Thomasin close to two hours to arrive at the destination with Oliver safely stashed inside a container inside her purse.

Standing at the bank of a small arrowhead shaped pond, she removed Oliver, holding him in the palm of her hand.

“I don’t know,” she said, eyeing the pristine wilderness. A sense of dread filling her and making her desperate to leave the area.

Oliver saw something else, faint glowing markers pointing toward the tip of the arrowhead. “There, we need to go there,” he directed.

Following the direction he was pointing, she navigated the edge of the pond, swatting swarms of annoying insects along the way, “What is the national bird of Canada, the mosquito?” she grumbled.

Oliver pointed to a small cairn of moss-covered rocks, “The entrance is there,” he told her.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I just feel it,” he replied.

Clambering over there, she crouched down beside the pile and examined what resembled the entrance of small animal’s den. “I don’t know Oliver,” she warned. “What if there’s an animal down there or something? You are awfully tiny.”

He shook his head, “No, this is it,” he replied, motioning for her to put him down. He could feel power emanating from the earth.

Placing him near the entrance, “Wait,” she instructed while she opened her purse and fished out a safety pin. Opening it, she handed it to him. “Just in case,” she offered.

Taking the pin, he stepped into the opening. The passage led downward, the descent steep but manageable. All around him, he could see bits and pieces of runic power glyphs binding magic to the ground, energy coursing through the very air and illuminating his path. Methodically, he continued downward until he encountered level solid bedrock. Moving laterally, he stepped into a large open space, a cavern to him. A haze of energy hung like a curtain or a veil in the air, making the hairs on his body stand up. Within the perfectly circular confines of the veil, he saw her, the goddess lying supine upon solid unblemished stone, save for a single hairline fault near her feet. The sight of her made his breath catch in his throat. To his diminished perspective, her nude body seemed massive though he would guess her overall height might be around six feet tall. Even through the indistinct shimmering of the magic, she appeared young, perhaps his age perhaps but immaculately perfect, flawless. Loops of braided white hair lay spilled around her head. His vocabulary felt inadequate, vulgar even.

Sitting down, he crossed his legs. “I’m not quite sure exactly what I’m supposed to do, but I get the sense I need to disrupt that lone symbol outside the force field near your feet. You said I was the key, but I don’t know how that is supposed to work.”

Placing his hands on his thighs, “Before getting started, I feel there are a few things I need to say though I really don’t know if you can hear me or not. On the one hand, I could free you and you might use your powers to put an end to the Omega Pi practices. On the other hand freeing you could unleash a dread goddess upon an unsuspecting population. It has also crossed my mind that if you exist, there are more than likely other powerful entities or beings like you out there. What does that mean for humanity in general? Setting you loose on the world could be all Old Testament wrath of God stuff or examples of divine capriciousness described by Ovid in his Metamorphosis.”

Taking a breath, “In the core of my being, my visceral self, I feel I can trust you but that said I am not so sure I can trust myself. I would like to think I have a pretty good understanding of things and am grounded in common sense with a notion of reciprocal fair play, but Sersei ensnared me easy enough with her pretty face and honeyed words. So why would you be different? I don’t know why you picked me. Maybe to plant the idea of some manifest destiny bullshit in my head and make me feel far more important than I really am, when truth be told I might only be just a tool to be discarded once I am no longer of any use to you.”

Chuckling, Oliver shook his head, “What am I to think of all your lovely and ruthlessly amoral disciples? I know, by rights I should despise those girls. What they’ve done, not just to me, but Cam, Deacon, Stan, my mom, the countless lost sons. They’re vile and self-indulgent creatures perpetuating a legacy of destroying lives for their own gratification and vanity. They mimic human emotion only to fulfill their baser wants,” he shared.

Turning his hands supine, almost supplicatory, “If only it was that simple. They’re bad and need to be punished in the most fitting way imaginable. Except, I know nothing is ever that simple. Part of me, and I not quite sure which, thinks in midst of all of this, these harpies might be victims too. Born into a broken system and raised to follow this barbaric practice. Now hold up, I know what you’re thinking, right is right and wrong is wrong so on some level I believe they have to know what they’re doing falls in the latter. That said, the ones who’ve broken faith, not with you, but with the sisterhood and that for which it stands suggests redemption might be possible for many of them,” he speculated.

Frowning, he nodded and got to his feet. “I am not so crass as to attempt to barter with you or saddle you with conditions for your release, but when I finish this, I do have a favor to ask. If the girls can be saved, Harmony seemed so sweet and shy, even Sersei, Brooklynn, and the others, if there exists some redeemable quality in them, please give them a chance,” he petitioned, a wry grin appearing on his face.

“I don’t know if that request is me being all noble or just still entangled in their beauty and clouded by testosterone. Oh, and if it’s not too much trouble, please fix Stan and Cam and Deacon, and any other guy still under the Omega influence,” he requested.

Getting to his feet, his brushed his hands over his bottom, “I guess that is really all I have to say,” he voiced, circling around the veil and approaching the lone symbol.

Dropping to his knees, he examined the simple, two hand sized depressions inside. Leaning forward, he placed his hands in the hollow. A jolt of electricity shot up his arms coupled with a brilliant flash of light blinding his vision followed by a tremendous clap like thunder, the force throwing him backward and knocking the wind from his lungs when he landed. Despite the calamitous noise, he distinctly heard the sound of her breath as she drew in air.

Struggling back to his feet, the curtain of energy around her was gone and the chamber settled in gloom. The little light there was, seemed to be coming from around her. As the ringing in his ears subsided, he could her soft breathing, see the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

Moving forward to where the boundary of the veil had been, he reached out with a tentative hand. Encountering nothing, he moved closer to her, greeted by a subtle floral essence. At her feet, he raised a trembling hand to touch the side of her foot, the pale unmarred skin silky smooth. Circling around her right foot, he approached the binding near her ankle, the faint light illuminating the rune work on the beads. Using the safety pin, he pried into the knots holding her feet together. Little by little and with persistent effort, he unraveled the weave and liberated her feet.

Mopping his sweat dampened brow, “One down,” he murmured, moving up her right side. Climbing up her arm to her midsection, her flesh slightly cool under his feet, he approached her folded hands. Again using the safety pin to dig into the leather tie, he loosened the bonds. Getting them out from under her wrists was far more difficult. Sliding the draw up to the hollow under her wrists, he used his legs against her arm as leverage and finally pulled the binding free.

Not sure what exactly to expect, whether she might rouse slowly or become instantly alert, nothing happened. Walking over her stomach and through the hollow between her breasts, he looked at her face. Spreading his hands, “Now what? If I am the key, where is the lock,” he paused, glancing back over his shoulder across her tummy to the swell of her mons. “Oh,” he said bluntly, walking back down her body to her genitals.

Looking down upon the impeccability of her sex, he grinned then chuckled. Turning his head to the side to look back up toward her head, “Wouldn’t it be hilarious if all it took was some kind of Sleeping Beauty type kiss and instead I planted a smacker here. Talk about awkward.” Rather than risk earning her displeasure or anger, he moved back up to her head and pulled himself onto her face. Getting down on his hands and knees, he pressed his lips against the soft tissue of her bottom lip. Nothing. He kissed her again. Nothing.

Standing back up, he jumped down to her throat and scampered back to her downstairs area. Hesitating, he looked back to her. “If I am wrong and this turn out to be some type of molestation, I apologize in advance. You didn’t exactly give me a lot to go on,” he offered, hoping it was enough of a disclaimer.

Lying down on his stomach, “Volat sicut ad proterva tenera puerorum, et nos sumus in deos,” he said in Latin before tracing his fingers over the delicate tissue under him.