Brendella and the Trouble With Crystal Balls
by Thomas Yonge
Copyright 2011 Thomas Yonge
Smashwords Edition
Cover Design by Thomas Yonge
Images Courtesy of
mmagallan / sxc.hu
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Other Stories by Thomas Yonge available at Smashwords
Other Brendella Stories Available
Short Stories
Brendella and the Horny Goblins
Brendella in the Backwoods Peepshow
Brendella vs. the Tentacle Monster
Brendella and the Overfriendly Enchantress
Collections
Brendella: Collected Stories Volume One
Contents
Brendella and the Trouble With Crystal Balls
Brendella and the Trouble With Crystal Balls
The fortune-teller looked up as the curtain to his chamber was drawn aside.
"I knew you'd be here today," he mumbled preemptively. He stroked the cat lying on the armrest of his chair.
His customer stepped all the way into the room. The fortune-teller's eyes grew large. Before him stood a beautiful warrior-woman, dressed in a tight leather cuirass and leather leggings. Long black hair spilled over her shoulders.
"My name is Brendella, Warrior of the Sands," she announced. "I seek guidance, from one who can read the Wind."
"Yes, yes," the fortune-teller said. He eyed the sword strapped to the woman's back and the knife at her waist, uneasy.
"Your weapons," he said. "You leave outside."
"My weapons?" she asked.
"Yes, yes," he replied. He waved a hand in the air. "Yes, the metal interferes with the Crystal Ball." He indicated the delicate sphere, resting on the table in front of him.
Brendella nodded. "Very well."
She removed both her knife and her sword, and then reached down and extracted a third blade from her boot. She stepped through the curtain, back into the waiting room. A moment later, she returned.
"Okay," she said. "No more metal." Then she brought up a hand. "Wait a minute, there's metal here. These buckles." She indicated the place, on the side of her leather cuirass.
She looked up at the fortune-teller. "Must I remove this, too?"
The fortune-teller puffed on a pipe, considering. He waved a hand in the air.
"Yes, yes. The vision will be clearer."
The warrior-woman nodded and stepped through the curtain again. When she returned, her upper body was covered only by a cloth breastband.
The fortune-teller chewed on the end of his pipe, eyebrows rising.
"Shall we begin?" Brendella asked.
The fortune-teller looked her over. "Yes, yes," he said. "In a moment." He motioned towards the Crystal Ball. "Everything must be just so, or the vision will not come. It cries out to me now."
"What does it say?" she asked.
"It senses suffering. Pain." He raised his eyes. "Have you anything which came from the carcass of an animal? Leather? Fur? This must be removed from the Ball's presence."
"Leather?" She looked down at herself. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, yes. The Ball hears the cries of the animals. It must be removed!"
Brendella looked unsure, but after a moment of consideration, she ducked through the curtain.
The fortune-teller stroked the cat while he waited.
The curtain rustled, and Brendella re-entered the small room.
The pipe nearly slipped from the fortune-teller's lips. The warrior-woman had removed her fur boots and her leather leggings. She now stood before him in only the white breastband, and a skimpy pair of silk underwear.
"Yes, yes. That's better. Much better." He waved a hand over the Crystal Ball.
"Tell me then," said Brendella. "What do you see?"
The fortune-teller looked deep into the Crystal Ball. He puffed on his pipe, concentrating. At last, he shook his head.
"It's no use," he said. "The Ball refuses to communicate."
"What's the matter with it?" asked Brendella.
"It senses the cloth you wear."
"You mean this?" She indicated the band wrapped around her chest, covering her breasts.
"Yes, yes. I keep the Ball in a bag made of this very cloth when I am not viewing. Otherwise, I hear its voice calling to me all the time, even when I try to sleep. It does not like that bag. Yes, yes. The Ball does not like this material. It must be removed, as well."
"There must be another way," said the warrior-woman. "I could stand just outside the curtain there, and you could tell me what you see."
"Impossible! I'm afraid you must be here, in this room, for the vision to come."
Looking uncomfortable, Brendella stood, considering. At last, she turned and pushed through the curtain. When she returned, her arms were crossed over her naked breasts.
"Can we continue?" she asked, wearing naught but her tiny undies.
"Yes, yes." The fortune-teller coughed. He reached out and set his pipe down on the nearby stand. The cat stood and stretched itself out, then turned and settled back down.
"Something yet blocks the vision," the fortune-teller told her.
"You must be joking," she groaned.
"Yes. Something far away. Far away and to the East, beyond the Great Mountains."
"What is it?"
"Is that silk?" he asked, pointing to her final piece of clothing.
"It is," she said, hesitating.
"Of course," said the fortune-teller, "you wear a product of that faraway land. Remove that, and I can receive the vision clearly!"
"You can't be serious!"
"I am," the fortune-teller said, waving his hand. "The silk. Remove it!"
Brendella let out a long breath, and dropped her head. "Alright," she said at last. "If I must."
She turned and walked out beyond the curtain. The fortune-teller scratched the cat's chin as he waited. A moment later, the curtain moved, and just Brendella's head reappeared.
"You're sure it must be like this?" she asked.
The fortune-teller nodded solemnly.
The warrior nodded, her cheeks slightly flushed. After another pause, she stepped into the room. She held one arm up across her chest, covering her ample naked breasts; her other hand, she placed down between her legs, shielding her private spot from view.
"Yes, indeed," said the fortune-teller, smiling. He drank in the sight of the naked beauty.
"Well," she said, impatiently. Her blush grew deeper.
"Yes, yes. A moment please." He turned his attention to the Crystal Ball. Reflected on its surface, he could still see the embarrassed nude warrior. Grinning, he reached out and put his hands on the Ball.
"That's better," he said. "Much better, indeed. That's almost perfect."
"Almost?" the woman squeaked. "What else is there? I'm standing here in my skin!"
"Your skin!" The fortune-teller cried. "Of course!"
"What about my skin?"
"Here," he said, reaching out for a small glass vial, from the nearby stand. In his excitement, he nearly knocked it over. Grabbing it, he held it aloft for her to see.
"What is that?" asked Brendella.
"This," he said, "is a special oil. Vision Oil. When rubbed on your skin, it allows the Ball to focus on you, and you alone."
"I don't know."
"It is the only way to get a truly clear vision. What good is the guidance of the Ball, if you do not allow it to function at its highest level?"
"Alright, give it here," she said, sighing. She took a step forward, continuing to cover her nakedness with her arms.
"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that," he told her.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm embarrassed to say it," he told her, "but I must be the one to apply it."
"Wait, what?" A look of anger appeared on the warrior's face. Had she at last seen through his act?
"Only the fortune-teller can apply the Vision Oil. That's the way it has always been done. Even kings and queens acquiesce."
Brendella stared at the fortune-teller. At last, she nodded. "How do we do this?" she asked.
"Please, come forward." The fortune-teller waved his hand in the air. "You must lie across my lap."
The warrior's eyes grew wide.
"It is the only way," he added quickly. "Come."
Slowly, the naked warrior, blushing and covering her nudity with her hands, stepped forward. Carefully, trying not to reveal any more of herself than was necessary, she laid down across the lap of the fortune-teller. He looked down in delight at the pale, bared skin of the warrior-woman's bottom.
"Can you hurry, please," called Brendella. "This is humiliating."
"Yes, yes." Tentatively, he reached out a hand and laid it on her naked flesh. It was exquisite to touch — soft and smooth. He rubbed his hand over the warrior's exposed backside, grinning.
"I don't feel any oil."
"It's coming," he told her. He picked up the vial and poured some of the liquid into one hand. Vision Oil. How ridiculous! As if there were such a thing. He lifted his hand to his nose and inhaled. The liquid was simply a sweet root extract that he used to flavor his tea.
He rubbed his hands together and then began rubbing Brendella. He caressed her shapely bottom and her upper thighs; he let his fingers follow her shape down her crack and towards her womanhood. She shivered and squirmed in his lap.
"Is that enough?" she asked, tensing.
"I'm afraid this might sting a little," he told her.
"What might sting?" she asked.
He raised a hand and then brought it down on her bare backside. She kicked her legs and cried out.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
"The oil must absorb into your skin." He spanked her again, causing her to squirm more. "This opens up your pores and makes the process faster." Smack! He spanked her again. Again!
"Stop it!" she cried. "Stop that at once."
"As you wish," he replied. He rubbed the reddening skin of her bare bottom. "Hopefully, that was enough. You may get up," he told her.
She climbed off, again being careful not to show too much of herself to him. She scampered back towards the doorway, and he grinned at her jiggling bare cheeks, which were now slowly turning red.
"There is one final thing," he told her.
"Now what?" she demanded.
"The Ball wishes to speak. But we must show it the proper respect. Please, come back."
"You're not spanking me again," she warned him.
"Of course not," he agreed. "Please." He waved his hand.
Finally, the sullen warrior returned to his chairside. "What must we do?" she asked.
"You must show the Ball that you respect it by kneeling down. Here," he said, indicating the spot directly in front of him.
Keeping herself covered, she knelt down where he indicated, facing the table and the Crystal Ball.
"No, no," he told her. "You must avert your eyes from the Ball. Turn towards me instead."
She did as he said. Remaining on her knees, she turned to face the fortune-teller, who then placed a leg on either side of her.
"Good," he told her. "Now close your eyes, and think about what you want to ask the Ball."
The fortune-teller began undoing the strings on his pants. In front of him, the kneeling warrior closed her eyes.
"Just relax," he told her. "think of your questions. Now bow your head, humble yourself for the Ball."
Brendella lowered her head, so that it was almost in the fortune-teller's lap.
"In a moment, we'll begin." The fortune-teller opened his pants, grinning. He put a hand on Brendella and guided her head closer.
"Focus your thoughts into this conduit," he told her, "and the Crystal Ball will hear you." He placed himself inside her mouth. "And make sure to use your tongue."
* * * * *
Brendella emerged from the fortune-teller's chamber, wiping her lips. Feeling disappointed, she gathered up her things, and began dressing.
As she pulled on her underwear, she sighed. What a waste of time!
She had come here for guidance, hoping to learn more of her destiny. Was she on the right path? What was she to do next? The Gods were not answering her prayers; perhaps the Wind would tell her.
But this fortune-teller and his strange crystal ball didn't answer any of her questions.
It just kept telling her over and over that she was doing good. So good, it said. You're so good!
Well of course she was doing Good, she thought. She was Brendella, Warrior of the Sands! She was bound by an oath to do Good, and to battle Evil, wherever she found it.
She shook her head. Something was nagging at her. She couldn't be certain, she thought, as she pulled on her leather leggings, but this particular fortune-teller might just be a fraud.
The End
About the Author
Thomas Yonge writes a variety of erotic fiction.
He generally describes his stories as Kink Erotica.
The topics he likes to read and write about include erotic embarrassment and humiliation, spanking, and light BDSM.
To find out more about Thomas and his fiction, including Brendella, you can visit his blog:
http://thomasyonge.blogspot.com/
On Twitter: @thomasyonge
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