Mercurial and Mimic

Working for the guild was not particularly unpleasant as a general rule.  It was when she wasn’t working that things became unpleasant.  Mercurial Whim-of-Glory padded silently across the top of the roof, perfectly at ease traipsing between two very steep angles of fired tile.  She tucked stray locks of gold into the hood of her cowl.  She didn’t like cloaks; they always got caught at the most inopportune moments.

She swiftly crossed the first roof and paused at the edge, glancing down at the cobbled streets and the oil lamps that lit them.  No one was looking up; she continued to study the street and let her fingers rifle though her spell components.  When she found the vial she wanted – the sides etched in specific pattern to make it easy – she pulled it out and murmured the soft words of the ancient tongue, a lilting litany of leverage and leaping.

The leap that had been daunting was easily made with the potency of the spell, and she quickly crossed that roof, using the thieves’ highway to make her way to the very well guarded home the Grondy wanted her to invade.

When she arrived on that roof, she reached under cowl and into her tunic, pulling a leather thong out, and looked into the glittering crystal.  These words were much more potent, much more carefully enunciated, and after a moment reality blurred before her eyes for a brief second and she could see the glimpses and whips of power that existed in all places and times.  The spell quickly settled and she could only catch the stray glitter of her ring and the glimmer that surrounded her bracers.  Those she was expecting, of course.

Of far greater importance was the lack of any glow about the roof or along the wainscoting.  Spells of guard and ward would be the greatest threat she could run into.  Aside from failure, of course.

She quickly made her way to the section of the roof where the window would be, some ten feet below her.  She slowly scanned the grounds of the manse, and the roads further out.  Nothing of great interest, she was gratified to see.  Apparently her informant had been accurate, and that was a good thing.  She stood up straight and rolled onto her toes, then back to her heels, repeating the slow rolling motion three times.  After the third time she felt the slippers grip the tiles like they had been coated with honey.

Taking a deep breath, she got down on hands and knees, and slowly placed her palms against the stucco that covered the walls of the mansion.  They too gripped the wall, though much harder since she was actually putting her weight on them.  Carefully she began crawling down the wall, the slippers’ enchantment allowing her to do so with much greater safety and stealth than normal.

She noted that she stood out like a sore thumb against the pale walls, and sighed.  What was it about humans that they believed black was always the color of stealth?  Mercurial made it to the window without any alarms being raised, and knelt on the wall, facing the street and carriage lane below with no more vertigo than she would have shown hanging upside down from the branches of a Hometree.

Working quickly and efficiently – and above all carefully, because her tools were nearly irreplaceable – she used a slider bar and a guide-hook to unlatch the window from the inside and keep the latch from falling down.  It was little things like that that kept her in the Grondy’s graces, because those little things were what got other people in trouble with the watch.  Ironically she would much rather not be in his good graces, because it would mean she’d get tossed to the general guild for the more-often-than-not nightly rituals of abuse and torment.

She studied the fame of the window, then the room itself, giving herself plenty of time to scan the place.  There were tidbits of magic here and there – a glass globe in the center of the leaded crystal chandelier that was of evocation, an enchanted inkwell, and a painting that held a batter of magics she really did not want to try and decipher – but no conjurations or abjurations.  Those were the two forms of magic she feared.

Slipping easily into the window she rolled near-silent to her feet, and let the slippers’ power fade.  She padded silently to the laird’s bedroom, and glanced inside, and saw the neatly made bed and naught else.  Just as it should have been; he was entertaining the ladies at Mama’s, and she would make sure he wouldn’t be walking straight even if he did leave early.  The noble-born poisoner Auaei would have cooked up a draught that would make him feel like he’d drank a giant’s cupful of bad ale.

Passing several other rooms, she made her way to the study, and it was here she found her first real threat.  The lock was enchanted and clearly so; kneeling she studied it more carefully.  A Fire Trap.  Not typical of wizardry, but the librarian would have access to many strange tomes, she supposed.  She pulled her kit out again and fondled her tools, keeping her mind on the lock, letting experience be her guide in selecting the tools she needed.

She gathered her wits and let the spell fade, needing her all her concentration to defeat trap and disable the lock.  She remembered, however, and that alone allowed her to quickly and neatly disable the deadly trap and the lock without either setting it off or destroying it.  Before opening the door, however, she took out a very slender flat piece of metal, and slipped it between door and jamb – on the opposite side of the door.  She dribbled several drops of oil on the metal, and let it drip down, angling the metal to guide the oil onto the hinges.  Only two of them, though, which she was pleased by – the oil was expensive.

Mercurial then opened the door, carefully, and placed a small leather covered cube of rock between the door and the door-jamb.  If the door shut, she would have to go through the trouble of bypassing the Fire Trap and lock all over again and she might need to leave in a hurry.

Slowly she took a measure of the room; books – at least two dozen, a trove all in itself – and paintings of people she knew from tales told by the guild members about the nobility.  A glass case containing some unpleasantly ancient tome that made her eyes water just looking in its direction.  And the Chest.  She permitted herself a quick grin, and silently walked over to the object of her captors’ desire.

It really was a magnificent piece of work.  Slabs of ivory – she shuddered to think of what could possibly have tusks two feet thick – made up the sides and flat top of the chest.  The fittings were silver, elegantly designed and floral in aspect, while the nails and cover-hasp of the lock were of gold.  Mercurial frowned; that was somewhat silly to do, but then, it was probably bespelled.  Even she could twist a bar of iron through a hasp of gold.  The lock itself was of silver and chased with golden filigree.

The delicate half-elf with the trimmed ears examined the lock without touching it, and then recast her Magical Detection spell; she was somewhat surprised to see there was no magical protection upon the chest.  Frowning she considered the strange problem, and then shook her head.  The Grondy wanted the black velvet back in the chest, nothing more and absolutely nothing less.  He would get it, because she really didn’t want to get another reaming like last time.  She would have preferred a verbal one, but the Grondy thought physical reamings were far more effective deterrents.

She took out her tools and studied the lock again.  Selecting a hold-it rod as the first tool, Mercurial readied it, laying her hand on the lid of the chest as she knelt low to look into the lock.  It was actually unnecessary, since she would be working by touch rather than sight, but it was a habit to look at what was going on.  Slowly she inserted the tool, careful not to touch anything at first until she had penetrated an inch deep.  Then she gently pressed down the top of the rod to hold the last tumbler in place.

The chest immediately giggled.

Mercurial sat up instantly, looking at the chest.  She did not move the rod, or her hand.  It couldn’t have been a Magic Mouth; she hadn’t seen any spell.  Then again, there was the Deceptive Aura spell.  That would hide such a thing.  She leaned over again, taking a deep breath.  Too late to stop now anyways.

Mercurial set the rod in place and the chest giggled again.  She chewed nervously on her lip but ignored the girlish noise.  She left the rod there and too out a spinner, and slipped it inside the keyhole, sliding it along the top parts of the tumbled.

This time the chest sighed softly, the same sort of noise she’d made when that red-headed girl has licked her.  She dropped the tool, and the chest gave a soft gasp.  Her hand would not come away from the top of the chest.  Mercurial blinked and pulled harder, but her hand was stuck fast to nothing at all.

Whipping out her dagger she lifted it to stab into the polished ivory with the intent of chopping her hand free, when a girlish voice exclaimed, “Don’t stab me!”  Mercurial stared at the speaker, and shook her head.  Either this was one of the most elaborate Magic Mouths she’d ever dealt with or one of the most potent of illusions.  In any case, this was in no way what was supposed to be going on.

The chest started to flow, becoming plastic and soft.  Mercurial’s breath caught and she swallowed past the lump of fear that surged into her throat.  She had heard of mimics.  They were said to be huge, silent monsters that waited for the unwary and clubbed them to death as they held fast with their sticky surfaces the hapless victim.  Never had she heard of one talking or of one so small.  And certainly not so….appealing.

Her hand was stuck fast to a soft, surprisingly warm curve of breast, nipple pressed gently into her palm, while the liquid gold cascaded over her wrist from the mimic’s head.  Skin as pale as the ivory it has appeared to be covered the lovely girl; her nipple, lips, and eyelashes were of silver, while liquid-appearing lumps of gold made up her hair.  Golden eyes gazed ingenuously into Mercurial’s hazel eyes, and she blinked, suddenly blushing.

Looking down didn’t help.  The lovely female figure had what looked like gold appliqué between her legs surrounding her femininity – and the harbinger’s tools sticking out of her quim.  “So sorry about that,” she murmured, her blush deepening.  She was more worldly wise than most would have expected for her apparent age, but she’d never raped a chest before.

“It....it was actually rather nice,” admitted the creature in a soft, almost childlike voice.  “It was like when master puts the key into me.”

Mercurial blinked.  “A key?  Like,” she asked, pulling out a skeleton key and showing it to the girl-mimic, “perhaps this?”

The girl smiled, her eyes bright and somewhat vapid.  “Oh yes.  Except, he does it so quick and only leaves it in for a little bit, before he takes it out so quickly.  Those were much more fun.”  Mercurial blinked slowly and then smiled, moving her hand a little; not trying to remove it, but gently massaging the warm, smooth breast of the creature a little.

“Well, would you like me to put another one inside you?”  It couldn't be this easy, could it?  It SHOULDN'T be this easy, but then again, perhaps Ygorl or Ssendam were having fun with her.  Ssendam more than likely.  She picked up another spinner, and ran the tip of it along the outer edges of the girl-mimic's nether lips, surprised by the soft pliancy of the strange flesh.

The girl gave a little shiver and ran her hands along Mercurial’s trapped arm, legs spreading a little wider and head rolling back as she was teased.  Her nipple hardened under Mercurial’s hand and the elfin girl squeezed gently, appreciatively.  She ran the tool along the edges of the girl’s nether lips slowly, tracing them with no little skill.  “That…that’s really nice….”  She shivered and rubbed Mercurial’s arm eagerly.

Mercurial slowly pushed the spinner into the soft, welcoming channel of the girl-mimic’s tunnel, and her hips arched.  Interestingly the movement did not dislodge the other two tools, and Mercurial was able to lock the second spinner behind the first.  Curious, she slowly turned them, twisting them as she would have done inside the lock.

There was resistance, but not much; it was just as though the tumblers were still there, and the girl moaned, writhing in a manner that was nearly embarrassing to watch.  Mercurial found herself responding to the mimic’s exaggerated moans and movements; she had ever considered lock-picking to be an erotic experience, but things were happening that would make it a different sort of pleasure to indulge in thievery.

Once she’d set the spinners in place again, she pushed them against the hold-it rod, which elicited another disturbingly eager moan from the mimic.  She smiled at the strangely golem-like beauty and looked into her eyes.  “You know, if you let go of my hand, I will be able to do this much better.”

The look in the girl-mimic’s golden eyes was almost heartbreaking.  “But….you’ll run away and I’m not supposed to let go of anyone I catch.”  She was confused and a little scared, and her hips rocked slightly, even as she licked her lips with a tongue as white as her skin.

Holding that gaze was easy, and the words that spilled from Mercurial’s lips were not even a lie.  “I promise I will not run away.  Besides….would you not like to feel me do more things such as this?”  She used the third spinner, this time sliding it against the tender tend of gold foil-skin that hid the girl-mimic’s pearl from view.  The girl’s back arched and she brought her knees up, nearly pushing Mercurial over.  The two hands gripped her arm hard, and she was glad she was wearing her bracers, since the protection actually responded to the amount of force the girl-mimic brought to bear.

“Ahh!” The creature shuddered and relaxed as Mercurial gently molested her with the slim rod of metal.  She spread her legs wider, but her hands retained their grip on the elfin harbinger's arm.  “You promise?  You really won't run away?” Mercurial nodded with a reassuring smile, as she started to slide the rod in and out of the girl-mimic's soft, welcoming sex.

The girl shuddered and let go of her arm, reluctantly.  Still, Mercurial gently stroked her rounded breast one last time, fingertips caressing the hard nipple firmly.  Then she slowly stretched out between the girl-mimic’s spread legs, which made the creature relax a lot more.  With another smile Mercurial looked up and used her newly freed fingers to slowly spread the soft, shimmering gold of the mimic’s quim wide, exposing mother of pearl petals and a valley of iridescent flesh.

She could see the shimmering gold and silver filigree of the tumblers inside the girl’s warm, oily sex, as she spread her wide, and smiled, wondering at the strangeness of it all.  The spinner was slick and she pushed it into the back of the others, locking it too into place.  There were three more tumblers, and the girl-mimic arched and squirmed around the tools buried inside her body, which did not dislodged the thief’s tools.  Mercurial slowly ran her fingers directly into the mother of pearl petals of the girl’s sex, spreading her a little more much to the girl-mimic’s pleasure.

The slickness as real; she was actually wet, though the scent of her was warm and more like metal-cleaning oils than the muskiness of a human or the delicate piscine scent of elvenkind.  Mercurial took a different tool out this time, rather than another spinner.  This was slightly larger, and she ran it back and forth along the length of the girl-mimic’s petals to moisten it.  The girl-mimic arched and shuddered and she cried out softly when the tool passed over the sensitive bud of her clitoris.  “You must not get enough attention,” Mercurial murmured in her native tongue.

The girl-mimic did not respond to the soft voice – instead she writhed, head tossing her golden hair back and forth, though it bobbed and flowed more like a wet sack of liquid gold rather than strands of silk.  Mercurial gently pushed the slightly larger tool into the soft, moist tunnel, fitting it over the other rods, and carefully locking it into place while the girl cried out, the larger tool filling her significantly more than a key would.  Mercurial found herself wishing she could spare the time to slip a hand into her own loincloth.

Finally she took the last two spinners and fitted them one after the other into the shaft of the tool, much to the delight of the strange creature Mercurial was in the process of molesting.  Her breaths were quick and uneven now, and Mercurial looked up at her and smiled.  “Here you go, lovely.”  The vapid, bright eyes looked down, curious and a little nervous.  Mercurial, recalling what the creature had said of her master, slowly – very slowly – began to turn the tools, feeling the tumblers click and lock against the spinners as the holding rod provided the center of spin.

The response was immediate and a great deal more dramatic than Mercurial had expected, though that did not stop her from continuing her slow turning of the faux-key in the most unusual lock she’d ever dealt with.  The girl-mimic shrieked in a strangely soft sort of way, and she grabbed the floor, her body quivering and breast heaving prettily.  Her golden fingernails left marks in the floor as her hips jerked repeatedly, her orgasm prolonged by Mercurial’s slow movements.

Licking her lips, Mercurial watched fascinated as the girl-mimic’s orgasm continued on and on, each click of tumblers inciting another wave of pleasure.  She threw her head from side to side as Mercurial reached the final turn.  She panted desperately, and Mercurial smiled, and gave her a single, quick lick of tongue along that delicate, mother of pearl wetness, tasting strange, not unpleasant oil and the warmth of bone and electrical tang of metal.

The girl gave a final gasp and collapsed, slumping against the wall.  As Mercurial rose, amused by the fact she’d fucked a treasure chest into unconsciousness, the girl-mimic’s belly rippled and pulled away from her navel like liquid falling away from a stone rising from the depths.  She stared in wonder as the creature birthed its treasure in response to the gentle rape Mercurial had perpetrated upon her.

There was a strange book of soft silver leather, with a ribbon of crimson silk set between the aged vellum; she immediately recognized it from her mother’s home as a Blessed Book of Boccob.  Mercurial ached to take it, but she resisted the urge as it would get her a sound thrashing.  There was a large ruby that flickered as though lit from within by fire, a silver flute with odd golden tassels, and the velvet bag that she’d been commanded to take.

She gently and carefully lifted the black velvet bag and tucked it into the larger belt pouch, which swallowed the larger bag with magical ease.  One more longing filled glance at the book, and she reached between the sleeping girl-mimic’s legs and slowly pulled the key free of her soft, oily heat.  The girl gave a soft, sleepy moan and shuddered as her belly closed over her treasures.  Mercurial smiled and stood up….then thought better of it.

Leaning down, one hand against the wall, Mercurial pressed her lips to the soft, warm lips of the girl-mimic, stealing one last thing before fleeing for her home, such as it was.

~End~