It was a small village in the big woods called the Vasty Forest. He was a young man having reached the maturity of eighteen years. His name was Karling son of Kelborn. It was his time to take over his father's business of working the forges in the smithy. He had apprenticed since his eighth year. Now he was to be the breadwinner for the whole family as his father rested and awaited death. It would not be long. No one lived past their fiftieth birthday in this village. It was stark and lacked the healthy air and fresh food a people needed to prosper.

The land gave up little food, either hunting or gathering, and the soil was so poor that the vegetables and fruits that reluctantly grew in the gardens were weak ghosts of the delicious and nutritious foods they should have been. 

Out here, surrounded by the deep woods, they saw only the occasional traveling vendor or perhaps a group of gypsies moving through the village. But they never saw outsiders who wished to stay. It was an insulated, isolated, unfulfilling life for all of them. But it was the only life they had ever known. They prayed to the Goddess for all their needs, and she provided what was necessary to exist. That was all. Still, they lived and continued for even the short span they were given.

There were always stories of strange creatures and animals creeping about in the woods. Always there was the one who had seen something or heard something, but never specific, never clear, and no one knew for sure what they would find if they ventured very far into the forest or followed the only road around the bend and over the gap in the hills or in the opposite direction across the narrow stream bridged by old, rickety wood.

What they did know was that once in awhile, perhaps once or twice in a decade, a man would disappear in the deep woods. It was never a woman. Women seemed to be subject to wasting diseases, but they were never lost in the woods. Even those who took to the open road could be said to have disappeared, because they never returned. But why would they, if they had a choice? It all led to terrifying stories, told at the hearths in the evenings. Recounted to the children as warnings, or to the adults for the only entertainment they shared. No one here danced, or sang, or recited poetry. Life was drear.

The young man was taking good care of his father's smithy. It could be said it was now his. And he was fortunate to have been well taught. From all his hard labor he had grown stronger and larger than most in his village. He stood six feet tall, and had black hair and a physique that made the village girls swoon. His visage often created giggles when he strode through the village. He was not unaware of the impression he made on the girls. In fact he partook of their fair charms whenever he wished.

At times he needed charcoal for his forges. He would have to trek into the woods to gather hardwoods with which he would make the charcoal. However, that source was becoming depleted. Most of the trees surrounding the village now were unsuitable for making charcoal. He had to start searching farther into the forest for the fuel he needed for his work. It so happened that he finally made a trip that kept him out until dark and he was forced to make a bed in the leaves on the floor of the woods.

It was deep in the night, at the witching hour of midnight, that he was awakened by the sound of tittering. Small voices were laughing in the darkness. His fire had died down. Suddenly there appeared before him what he took to be the Goddess herself. An unearthly light sprang out to reveal her. Her beauty was wondrous to behold. He sprang to his feet. So incredibly lovely and entrancing was she that he was besotted upon the instant.

Her hair was the color of copper and fell in waves about her shoulders. Her vestments were intricately wrought, with needlework that must have taken hours for the hands of skilled seamstresses. Gold and silver threads were woven into the handiwork. However, her feet were bare. She did not seem to touch the earth beneath her. He could see that her skin was ivory in tone, with touches of rosy color in her cheeks. Her exquisite hands held fingers long and bejeweled, with fingernails of cerise.

He bowed as low as he could and he was rewarded by a touch upon his head. A soft hand was caressing his black hair and turning his head upward with a tilt of his chin. He gazed upon the vision and was bewitched. She began to walk away and as she slowly trod upon the leaves there was no sound made. Then dozens of tiny women, perfectly shaped, with red hair and tiny bodies, streamed out of the darkness and grabbed his hands and his clothes and began to drag him after the vision.

The little women were obviously pixies. They were formed as perfectly as their mistress, only tiny versions of her. They stood about three feet high and their assets almost matched hers. Not quite. She was perfection. They were tiny replicas that attempted but failed to radiate her exquisite beauty. But they might have made any normal man wish to possess them.

They did not have far to go. Almost within moments it seemed they were entering the gates of a building unlike any he had seen. In fact, such a residence was completely foreign to his knowledge. He was led past the gates and into the villa itself passing through double doors of oak. The walls and the doors could surely withstand a strong assault.

At last he entered his new home. For, indeed, he had been chosen. He was not aware of it yet, but he would never leave this place again. And he would learn to bless the day he had chanced to enter this domain.

The little minions led him into a large room with many strange devices upon the walls and around the stone floor. There they began taking off his clothes. He resisted and suddenly the Vision appeared and cast him upon the floor with an outstretched hand. He was flung almost twenty feet. He was now terrified.

"Never resist my minions. They have lived many lifetimes and always do my bidding. Do you understand? You are now a slave. My slave. I am the Mistress. I am the one who orders and commands. The only one who dispenses justice and metes out punishments here in these environs. Is this clear new slave?"

"Please Goddess, forgive me. I didn't know. I'll learn, I promise."

"I am not the Goddess, fool. I am the Witch of the Vasty Forest. I am a sorceress and practitioner of the magic arts. You will soon find what your purpose is here. But until then, do as you are told by anyone here. Is this understood slave?"

With this she disappeared and the tiny pixies began stripping him again. When he was completely nude he was led to cabinets and armoires containing fine garments that almost seemed to be created for him. He found, as he donned them, that they fit his strong physique perfectly. He was soon completely dressed again, and he never saw his rude, rustic garments again.

They led him to a device that was like a barrel and he was pushed onto the rounded surface on his back. Then his arms were stretched above his head and tied fast, as were his ankles at the bottom of the barrel. He began to fear what was to come, but he was anticipating something wonderful too. His emotions were in turmoil.

His Mistress glided into the room, her feet not touching the cold, stony floor. She was carrying a short whip in her hand. She approached Karling, and gazed down at him with satisfaction.

"I have selected well. You dress up as I hoped, and most comely. You will do adequately. Do you understand that now you are my slave, and will do my bidding for the rest of your life? Do you have anything to say? Do you object, slave boy?"

"No Mistress, I'll do your bidding forever. I can't escape the vision of you finding me this night and taking me in as your own. I've never felt such passionate acceptance before. I want to feel these emotions forever."

"I will use you. Do you understand, slave? I will use you for my needs, and my enjoyment, not yours. You will never have pleasure unless I bestow it upon you. Is this clear? Is this very clear, slave?"

"Oh Goddess, yes Mistress, it's clear. But I already am ready to please you in any way that I can. Please just guide me, and I'll follow and do your bidding."

"It is as you must have understood by now, stupid slave. You will be told when I am ready."

He feared her and adored her.

He was taken to his rooms. He had a suite. He was living better than a king, he thought. He had his own bathing and dressing room, where he changed out of his grand clothing, and then cleansed himself. With the help of the minions. They seemed to be always present. They even slept with him. It felt incredibly odd to be sleeping with these tiny pixies, but he was completely under the spell of his Mistress.

After several days, when he had explored his new quarters and the other rooms open to him, he finally saw the approach of his Mistress. He was not sure he was ready to greet her properly. He still feared her and her wrath. He thought it best to get on his knees and bow his head. He had made a wise decision. She was pleased, and patted his head and caressed his cheek with a certain fondness.

"Today we will have some fun my hapless slave. Perhaps I may even allow you to learn something about what is coming for you soon."

With that she flung her long red hair about her splendid body and glided away, with the full expectation that he would follow. He did. The pixies made sure of it. They grabbed his clothes and his hands and expertly dragged him into a chamber. This was the discipline chamber, as he was soon to learn.

He was taken to the center of the room. His arms were raised and his wrists were attached to manacles hanging from the ceiling. His ankles were spread wide and tied with leather straps. The minions of pixies were teasing him. They tickled him, apparently to see how he would react. He did not know that it was a preparation.

Mistress glided in, never touching the hard, stone floor. She approached him. When she was next to him she leaned down and he could feel her hot breath against his cheek and neck. Then he felt something moist on his neck and he began to feel slightly woozy.

"Oh Goddess, Mistress, what did you do? Please tell me what's happening!"

She ignored his pleas and continued whatever she was doing. He didn't understand what was happening. Then it came to him. Was she a creature of the night? One of the blood suckers he had heard of in tales around the fireplaces in the long evenings, back in his wretched village?

"Mistress, please. Are you sucking my life blood? Are you taking my life and my soul with my blood?"

"Stupid slave. Quiet! Do you think me a denizen of the darkness? Do you think me a blood lusting creature of myth and tales? You are filled with ignorance and imbecility! You will learn and you will know when I am ready to teach you. For now just be quiet and allow me to finish my work."

And the little pixies were gamboling across the room as their Mistress continued her task. He felt weak, but he was not at the point where he would faint, or collapse in the restraints holding him above the cold, stone floor.

Then, suddenly, she left without a word to anyone. The minions were continually touching him and rousing him from his stupor. They loved to help Mistress whenever possible. Finally they got the ladders necessary to release Karling from his manacles and he sank to the floor. They left him there to recover, but they stayed in the room with him. They were his constant companions. 

He awoke on the floor of the submission room and he staggered to his suite where he examined himself. He looked in the mirror on his wall, but he found no broken skin or bleeding flesh. It was clear that Mistress had not sucked his blood. What had she done? He could not decipher what had happened. But he had to trust her, or else what would become of him? He was hers. He knew this with his entire being.

He had to put up with the ever present pixies. He was beginning to recognize some of them. They wore their hair in different styles and they had different styles of clothing, even it they were all relatively small. And some had longer hair. But all followed the model of the Mistress with her red hair and beautifully proportioned body. 

In a few days he was summoned before the Mistress, the Witch of the Vasty Forest. The pixie minions escorted him. They had begun to talk to him in their little high-pitched voices and it was pleasant to have some conversation even if it was all about the Mistress, or their petty little arguments about who was prettier, or who the Mistress loved more. He was never really alone anymore. At least two or three pixies slept with him, or at least, in the same room.

Now the Mistress was addressing him.

"You have pleased me. I will now tell you something only my most precious slaves are allowed to know."

With this she beckoned to him to follow her into her own sleeping chamber. There in the opulence of an oriental Maharani he found a large circular bed. She reclined upon it and beckoned him to approach. He slowly drew closer and finally crept up to her on the bed. She placed her hands upon his shoulders and pressed him down beside her. His eyes gazed up into hers and she smiled.

"You did not understand what I did to you before, did you simple man? It was a process that only those such as I may do. I took from you an essential force. A life force, if you will. Do you comprehend? Of course you don't. But you will. Someday you will have this power. Someday I will teach you my secrets. For now, you must simply know this. I am the Power here in the Vasty Woods. I am the Mistress of all I can see, and all I will ever see. You are my slave and someday you will know and use my power with me. Someday you may become more.

Karling son of Kelborn, the blacksmith, had become the slave of his Mistress. The newest proselyte of the Witch of the Vasty Forest.

Now it was time to learn and become a power, too.

(From An Idea By SubKittyKat018)