Mavis and the Featherlight Ch. 01

Featherlight. What a name. What an awful, perfect name.

Since the sun had set, five hours had passed. Mavis was beyond exhausted, her wetness dripping onto the towel she'd laid onto the window ledge where she sat, trying hopelessly to lose herself in the warmth of the comfort blanket wrapped around her. To no avail. More hours remained before this would end, but she couldn't have said how many. Beneath the thick blanket, her hands pried and caressed at the soaked metal between her legs.

It had done so many different things to her, toying cruelly with her tiny body, and... And now... The last peak had been hard, but this was becoming quite indescribable. Her toes curled again, her legs bouncing and writhing as she took a shuddering breath.

It was just, ever so gently, touching at her. Prodding and rubbing at various parts of her twitching passage. It had been doing it for the last two hours, and... Oh, it was unbearable. It was unbearable! She pushed her forehead into her knees, shivering as it suddenly drilled her again with the gently rotating bristles, trying desperately not to let her frustrated writhing waste too much of her stamina. She needed all her strength, now, just to withstand the continuing assault that attempt after attempt had proven to her that she could do nothing to prevent.

How had it ended up like this? How could she have let herself be reduced to this? A helpless captive in her own home, unable to move, to think...

She shut her eyes tight, knowing the answer.

She had done this to herself.

---

"You'll look after yourself, won't you?" Mavis whimpered.

The setting sun's light behind the angel might have given her a second halo as she turned around, chuckling. "Mavis," Rose said softly, beaming down at her. "My darling Mavis. This trip is very important to me, it's true. But you have my word I'll hurry back." She skipped forward, then, pulling the dark haired elf into a tight, warm cuddle. Despite herself, Mavis couldn't help but enjoy being swaddled in the warmth of the angel's regal coat -- her nose buried in her girlfriend's hair as she inhaled softly. Strawberries. Rose was still using the perfume she'd got her last year on special occasions.

"Besides," Rose added, gently pulling away. "What sort of monster would I be to miss our anniversary?"

"Oh..." Mavis said, mentally deriving the current date. "Y-Yeah!"

The angel tilted her head. "Did you forget?" She cooed, shaking her head as she turned back to the waiting taxi. "Oh, Mavis." She sighed, opening the door. "I expect a gift, you know?"

"I didn't forget!" Mavis said quickly, folding her arms to try and brace herself against the cold. "A-And what about you, anyway? Are you bringing me something back from, um... up there?"

The angel blushed. "Of course." She said, quickly. "If we are still together in a few years... I might be able to take you up there, you know. There's some wonderful shops. Beautiful views... It's even still quite warm this time of year..."

Mavis smiled slyly. "I thought you s-said the ol' church would only let their own folk-"

"Oh," The angel said quickly. "Mavis, your teeth are chattering. Go on inside, won't you? I think soon it'll start snowing."

Mavis nodded. "Okay," She said softly. Then, "Goodbye, Rose. See you on Sunday."

The angel smiled at her, pulling the taxi door closed and opening the window. "Bye bye, Mavis. Keep the house clean this time, okay? And don't go in my room."

Mavis nodded again as the angel rolled up the window, blowing her a kiss. Clad only in a black hoodie and a short skirt -- hardly appropriate winter wear -- the elf found herself more or less alone, standing at the top of her long, lonely driveway.

Slowly, she scratched her head. And sighed. She turned to the manor behind her, admiring how the sun lit up the matte, green paint her and the angel had spent a weekend applying. Rose had been right. It did look better.

"Just you and me, huh?" She said to her front door, opening and shutting it behind her. "Like old times."

She sighed. Old times? Her and Rose had been together for nearly two years, and she'd been living with Rose for almost half that time. She'd lived alone here for decades before that.

How did it feel so lonely, now?

Of course, Mavis was proud of her home. She'd worked hard for it -- any employee of the Mavis Beckwater Lock Company would tell you that. But the place certainly looked different to the complete mess it had been before the angel had moved in with her.

One part that hadn't changed, of course, was her workshop on the first floor.

She stepped into the room, seating herself at the counter furthest from the door. She glanced back towards the window, catching the Taxi on its way out of her gates and watching as they shut behind it on their own. Solemnly, she glanced back over her workspace -- and the bins full of locks and keys, boxes of hooks and tools and picks. Racks of calibrated machines and optics.

Some time to kill, or so it would seem. She grabbed one of the meatier locks from the box next to her, plucking an appropriately sized tensioning bar off the table and gripping it, jammed into the lock, in her fist. Out of the drawer in front of her came a fairly standard hook -- she didn't see the need for anything more interesting -- and quickly, she got her first click. It took a moment to get her second, but after that -- a few more pops, and in her fist, the tensioning bar rotated, her hand closing as the bolt popped out underneath.

She set it down on the table, giving it a disapproving glare. "You gave me more trouble before," She accused it. "Let's... Oh, of course!"

She plucked a circular lock from a plastic box, then, excitedly turning it around in her hands. She leaned down to look through its keyhole, her round spectacles magnifying her one unclosed eye as the lock pushed them closer to her face. Quickly, her free hand found a disk detainer pick. This one was a little too large, but she didn't know where the good one had gone.

About 10 seconds later, the lock was open. She leered down at it, setting the detainer pick on the table. Then she sighed.

There was something... Increasingly bothering her, about her relationship with Rose. Perhaps it was the fact that the angel never discussed her job, apart from that she was in training for something. Perhaps it was the fact that her religion, though important enough to her to prevent her from letting Mavis enjoy her body the way she enjoyed Mavis's, was something she almost always steered conversations away from -- that was, when she didn't outright refuse to talk about it. In that infuriatingly playful way, she'd bat away all attempts at discussion, and if you pushed past that... Well, you'd just get her in a huff, and that would be it for a while. Nothing Mavis had tried would work.

What was the big secret? It was... frustrating. She'd been with Rose for two years, and though the angel's tongue and her flexible fingers had always made the elf incredibly satisfied, it never seemed like the angel had properly accepted her as a partner. Everything was one-sided. Rose had seen her naked, but she'd never seen Rose. They had one-sided intercourse regularly, be it oral, Rose's favourite, or... Other things. In some aspects, it even extended out of the bedroom - Rose knew Mavis's family, but not the other way around. And though Mavis had tried repeatedly to even the balance, the only reaction she'd ever get if she reached to touch between the angel's legs was a sharp tut as, lightning fast, the angel grabbed her wrist, gently reminding the elf of the religious boundaries she'd agreed to respect -- that they weren't married, and that she couldn't do that yet.

The angel's endless attentions, however, were also the reason Mavis felt like she couldn't complain. It was always her that got off, got to have fun. Rose... Never seemed to want that. It was almost like she had no needs of her own -- almost exclusively, she focussed on Mavis. In some respects, that was good, but in others... It stung. Rose never seemed to want anything from her. Why was that? Was she not good enough?

The elf pushed the two locks onto the floor, watching them clatter to the ground. She peered over the piles of transparent boxes, then, sitting up to lift lid after lid. Searching for a challenge.

The next one to catch her attention was one with a large, round dial.

"What is your deal, Rose?" She muttered to herself as she twisted the dial gently, feeling the ever so slight pits and gears in the mechanism as she slowly deduced the combination. "Always so focussed on me, and yet, I don't know if I... Know, you." Her eyes welled up momentarily. "I don't even know where you are, right now." She muttered. "If you never came back, who would I even call? The hotel? And, if you got hurt, if you died, or, or something... Who would call me? I don't know..."

Pop.

She looked down, seeing the combination padlock had snapped open in her hands. She tossed it aside, sitting her head on her hands. "Always telling me it's not a big deal." She muttered. "It's not important. Not to ask about your work, not to bother you while you're working, or talking on the phone in your room - not to go through your things," She hissed, resentfully. "It's not fair."

She knew one thing, for certain, despite Rose's efforts. They had mutual interests. Either they worked in the same field, or very similar ones. That must be it. Perhaps Rose was in security too, sworn to some pact of secrecy?

Her eyes narrowed. As an apprentice? Surely not.

Rose had asked her a lot of questions at first, but it had quickly become clear that the two of them had a very similar amount of technical skill. Sometimes, Rose even surprised her. Pouring over self-indulgent designs at the dinner table was common; Sometimes, those designs came from Rose.

Who wouldn't say what they were for.

But, of course, the implication that they were something to do with the angel's occupation, or field, or studies, or whatever it was, was itself always there. An occupation, either professional or of the soul -- Mavis didn't know which -- which lead the angel to sometimes ask some rather unusual questions of her.

What were the most unusual things Rose had asked about? Well, there was that time Rose had started asking wild questions about some purely hypothetical material -- of course, only hypothetical, for Mavis had very clearly stated that no such material could exist -- that repaired damage on an atomic level so quickly, and absorbed directed magic so rapidly, that it was itself quite indestructible and unassailable by conventional destructive techniques. Mavis, while fairly adamant to remind Rose about the age old adage that no amount of security can be impossible to defeat for a determined enough attacker, had for several hours entertained her wild probing about the properties of such a material with various, equally hypothetical parameters. It had been an interesting discussion, but ultimately she hadn't understood how the angel could possibly have found it as useful as her mood afterwards seemed to suggest -- when Mavis had finally admitted that, accepting all of the angel's ludicrous parameters, she couldn't think of any way to damage or bypass the lock Rose had proposed.

What else had Rose bothered her about? No, that wasn't right, these discussions hadn't bothered her -- they'd just bemused her. A bemusement much that same as one feels towards a child, who asks questions like 'why don't society just share out all the food equally?', and 'why don't we just make all the buildings stronger so the earthquakes and hurricanes can't knock them down?'.

Oh, right. Microscopic lock pins. Rose loved to beat that old horse. Mavis had repeatedly told her that even if such a thing could be manufactured, the lock would probably never align, and the keys would probably be destroyed by wiping them down hard enough with a hanky. Rose had always just laughed, exclaiming that she knew, and that again, it was hypothetical.

Some discussions were more lucid -- those about hook keys, and shaped keys, had been quite fun. A few interesting discussions had happened to be about metal in prolonged contact with human skin as well. In all of them, Rose had known all the theory. Her ideas were just... Rather out there, to say the least. Many of them better confined to fantasy stories than the constraints of real world manufacturing and technical spellwork. Rose seemed to know that, though.

Mavis glanced back at the setting sun. It'd be time for her to sleep soon. Alone. In her big, empty house.

There had to be something more interesting to do than open locks over the weekend. Maybe she could build another watch? Yes! That'd be fascinating. She could give it to Rose when she came back. What a lovely gift that'd be. It wasn't her profession -- in fact, it seemed like it might be closer to Rose's -- but Mavis had it on good authority that she made lovely watches. It'd need to be made to a very high standard to be fit for a girl as precious and wonderful as her Rose, of course, and with the finest materials from the jeweller to boot...

Suddenly, the elf noticed something.

She got off her stool, walking down the counter. Staring down at the conspicuously empty spot on Rose's own side of the bench, and the few well organised boxes of clockwork parts stacked at the back of it.

Where was the microscope? She tutted to herself, shaking her head in irritation. Rose, did you take it to your room? Well, that wouldn't do. She'd need that.

Grumbling to herself, Mavis headed up the stairs.

It had been a few months since Rose had bothered locking the door to her bedroom. She'd used to, but... Mavis had quickly proven to her that the locks in a lockmaker's house? More for display purposes, than for actually keeping out the mistress of the house. From anywhere, by the way, including all of the bathroom doors. She'd many a time surprised the angel in the mornings with breakfast in bed. That, and other things.

Recently, the angel hadn't been using her room much anyway. Not for sleeping, at least. That had been down to Mavis - she'd first convinced the angel to let her stay the night in this room two months ago, pleading with the angel to fold her wings over Mavis's arms and hands. The subsequent night together had proven to both that those strong wings, tight against the angel's back even as she slept, made it quite impossible for Mavis to escape or do anything to Rose that might have crossed the angel's boundaries during the night. Sure, it was a little strange, but Mavis now couldn't help but wonder how she'd sleep alone. She'd grown so used to the angel's protective embrace, the warmth of that curvy body wrapped around her own smaller frame. The heavenly softness and warmth of the thick, frilled nightdress the angel wore, even in summer. The soft hold of those wings, set upon her arms, that always felt gentle enough on her skin that it didn't feel like it would be hard to escape -- until the elf tried, and found it completely impossible. With a smile, she remembered Rose first explaining the wing hold to her months earlier, saying that she'd read it in one of the holy books. Mavis hadn't believed her at first, so the angel had decided to prove it; Mavis still remembered her frustration as Rose smirked at her, driving her wild with her slow, gentle fingers as she rocked back and forth, struggling helplessly.

Of course, sleeping in the hold was very different to using it for play. It had been a little embarrassing at first to have to wake the angel up to be allowed to go to the bathroom. But her Rose was so very accommodating, enthusiastic for Mavis's idea and happily waiting for her to return. And it made the elf's heart melt to be allowed so close by her beloved as she slept, snuggling happily against those round, pert breasts that Rose had only recently started letting her touch.

Putting aside all the pleasant memories brought forth by the sight of the bed, though, the bedroom was uninteresting. It was silent. Quite spotless, if vaguely strawberry scented. She scanned the tops in the room -- the dresser, the bedside table, the makeup table. She glanced up at the top of the wardrobes. She opened a few cupboards, finding only clothes; No microscope.

She was sure it was in here. The angel had been taking it up with her in the evenings for her little work projects. Which was justifiable; The microscope was technically Rose's. Mavis just needed to use it.

Was it, perhaps...?

She crouched down, her eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness of the space under the bed. Was that... Yes! She could see the microscope! But there was a problem -- it was right in the middle, with other things stacked all around it.

Mavis sighed. It was looking like she'd have to pull things out.

Slowly, she slid out the boxes between her and the microscope. She knew she ought not to open them. They looked ornate, and it seemed like they contained either jewellery or precious heirlooms -- in either case, not things Mavis would want to explain her reasons for touching. They were inscribed with curved letters written in Enochian, an angelic language Mavis couldn't read -- and that Rose hadn't taught her much of.

She was quite curious now, though...

Mavis slid out the microscope, sitting it on the bed. Slowly, she leaned on her knees, glancing back down at the boxes. Noticing, then, the carved image on one -- a rather lewd depiction of the female reproductive organs.

That was perhaps what hooked her in. Because she was very curious now, curious enough that her concern for her partner's privacy was slowly overridden. To open this little box and take just a quick peek... It was too tempting.

Slowly, she lifted the lid, and immediately her mouth fell open. She had been expecting to find something quite drab, if valuable. But instead, she'd found herself transfixed -- that, and rather scandalised.

It was a chastity belt.

That was what she realised first. She only had a vague idea of what a chastity belt looked like, but she knew this was one. And what a chastity belt it was.

The waistband was thick, yet not a hoop -- it curved gently around some unseen, yet exquisitely well studied anatomical subject, surely made entirely to measure -- though via means Mavis couldn't discern. Beneath it, in a perpendicular half-circle, ran a rear bar thin enough to slip between a wearer's buttocks, before, at what Mavis quickly recognised as the front, turning into a thick, V shaped shield covered with tiny, studded holes. From a tiny recess in the bottom of the waistband hung the weighty lock, lulling from side to side with its key hanging out as Mavis tilted and surveyed the thing. Carved into a pretty little heart, with delicate curves, and some might say, intelligent patterns. Two chains hung from it in wobbling arcs, serving what could only be a decorative purpose. Not that they would be needed to contribute to even more security -- for this belt looked quite impossible to remove or attack without highly specialised tools. Slowly, she slipped the key out of the lock -- noting its strange, reversed trident shape.

There was an inscription on the front of the belt -- Maiden's Guard. Nr. 257361. But as she looked at it more closely, something suddenly fell away. A note, she realised with a start. Tied loosely to the thing with a piece of yarn. Her eyes widened even more as she recognised Rose's handwriting.

FAULT -- Slight deformation in dome, resulting stim. possibility threatens vows of wearer. Apparently not escape attempt