17th of February, 534th of the Second Era of Mending. The Frozen Hinternds, Kingdom of Schoria.

  “Bn Mnmlnh, mn hmhd!” The chilly, morning wind breezed against Arvien’s high and stretching wide, sharply lined, structured cheekbones as she slowly awoke tasting the damp rug forced into her mouth. Her narrow cheekbones cracked as she fiddled around her mouth, trying to spit out the silk smooth rag, but quickly realized a second cloth looped around her head, her raven bck face framing locks dangled, beaten against the silken smooth and lustrous ruby red scarf spreading from her upper lip with a natural’s bowline, down to just above her chin.

  As the wind kept blowing her diamond shaped face, Arvien’s smooth, lustrous lids in the deep sockets lifted and let her luminescent icy violet eyes peer the surroundings as she lifted her head from the nearly cheek high colr of her drouvhen leather surcoat, its fur trimming soothing her nerves. Her long, narrowing ears shuddered as Arvien sharpened her senses with the little mana left streaming in her arcane veins, and picked up on the murmurs of the ravine below the steep precipice where her long bde protruded from the snow bnketed earth, her rge round shield set against it.

  And she heard a distant trembling, off marching steps reaching the thousands. Nearly they broke her ear drums, so she cancelled the spell whilst writhing in her taut restraints.

  Hands forced betwixt her back and the rugged surface of the tree along with her lone braid. Though the gloves offered them warmth in the frigid Schorian woodnd, the rope biting into the smooth elven leather spread numbness through her whole forearm section. Her legs stretched before her, equally as numbed by the tight and thick siphoning ropes pressing them together at her thighs, knees and ankles, though the small quakes rippling through the snow bnketed dark earth tickled her nether regions beneath the yers of sleek clothing, whilst her moans came in the decibel of whispers thanks to the gilded and arcane brocades resembling chains on the silk scarf keeping the rag in her mouth.

  With the gag on, her breathing turned hard whilst wheezing from exhaustion and mild pleasures. Arvien ceased her efforts for the time being. Head hunched back into the soft confines of her sleek, opulent dark outfit’s colrs.

  A raven bck surcoat with smooth surface, dented inwards by the rope akin to her body’s, thick and lined with soft white fur at the standing bulwark of a colr encircling her neck, shut by fastened straps, whilst from its elevated neckline’s foundation, a thick cloak like pauldrons sprawled over, hanging stiffly above her chestline where her shapely breasts were pressed further into her surcoat and honed abdomen by the coils of thick rope. Simir straps cinched her waist, numbering six. Four shrouded by the rope firmly setting Arvien in pce.

  A simirly thick and fur trimmed, drouvhen leather breeches and pair of boots with pointy toes adorned her legs, the rope denting them much the same. On her shoulders, beneath the mild fring of the surcoat’s shoulder, vertical, diamond shaped ptes of mythrinium adorn each side, segmented and engraved with blooming lotus roses, dragon’s eyes in their center, caressed by the angled petals. Though it seemed, the vambraces and her gauntlet were taken, and as she looked around surveying the surroundings, she noticed them slowly disappearing in the rinsing snow.

  Beneath the surcoat itself, an enchanted aelfrahd silken tunic hugged her form, the spell infused into the lustrous, almost liquid soft threads kept her pleasantly warm besides the thick surcoat. Its colr narrow, an inch away from kissing her neck, reached up to her softly angled jawline, cylindrical in shape and untied with the lustrous, x cords tumbling onto the mythrinium chainmail she wore over it for additional protection. Which eased her a bit, it wasn’t discovered or at least the scout proved merciful enough to not rid her of another yer of protection.

  Though it seemed the pouches and potion holders were emptied by Arvien’s absent captor, ridding her of a few possibilities to free herself. Her cheeks pouted and stretched the arcane-woven silk scarf as she growled and sighed realizing the acidic potion meant to free her was gone, with it her only hope was to be found by one of her Sisters, or the Kingdom’s scouts trailing the woodnds, keeping an eye on the marching enemy.

  As hours passed by, hope got accompanied by mild dread, unease at the small rustling of the snow-covered shrubberies and pnts thriving in the cold. It wasn’t rare for folk in the same predicament to end up as sustenance for prowling woodnd beasts. Arvien herself witnessed such grizzly sights during a few quests to take down bandits, who left their worthless victims to be taken care of by nature. Though the presence of her chainmail somewhat eased her growing terror along with her blooming drowsiness.

  The increasing tremors kept her awake, warm with pleasure as they shook her vulva on the onset of afternoon.

  Distant howls and bellows, belonging to tamed beasts of war accompanied the tremors, rippling through her body, stirring queer sparks in the aelfrith dame who not yet exercised the carnal tenets of Myelia. Though she tasted the lips of men and her Sisters who wished stir these very same sparks aiding the insution of her opulent, noble dame worthy outfit. Arvien’s breathing grew heavier, as she feared shame to leak through her clitoris. Tensed her nether muscles, Arvien pressed the back of her head against the rough, dark bark with icy growths, and stared at the shading snow white foliage.

  The Frozen Hinternd’s name came not from a constant permafrost like the northernmost forests possessed in the basin, but from the ethereal foliage of all the flora. Gargantuan trees which crowns contrasted the gloomy bark, their flesh mildly translucent, white with a hint of light blue like ice covering kes and rivers in the harsher winter months, the veins a deeper, glowing shade of blue, whilst the edges appeared hoary, dewed with a sharpness that could cut through rope and textile with the same efficiency. The bushes near her possessed the same eerily magnificent foliage, reminding her off the Skielfrith Sisters she trained with in the central heimrads of the Kingdom.

  The thought brought her momentary respite, but on the onset of night the tremors, the howls and bellows still ceased not. They intensified ever more as the marching army seemed to get closer with each passing moment, with each dimming of the rays pouring through the wintry foliage. And with them, her breathing, wheezing turned into soft moans muffled by the silken, decorated scarf and the rag it kept tautly in her mouth which taste turned sweeter as it mixed with her saliva.

  War was coming, war was what brought Arvien to her current predicament. With the approaching four Arghyrian legions, the King of Naireanth deemed it worthy to meet them before they would march across the tunnels of Eptirrion. A foolish choice her mistress, Freianna commented under her breath before Arvien and a quite sizeable contingent of her Sisters were sent as an additional aid alongside the Snow-Scaled Coven and the Court of Crimson Death. Their king foolishly believed he could kill two birds with one stone. Defeat the Arghyrians whom he believed were still tired from the conquest of the southern kingdoms, and take the agrarian nds of Schoria whose army got crushed within the first two months of the year.

  Stirred even more by the trembles, Arvien whilst taking deep breaths focused, trying to combat her rising, desirous emotions.

  Focusing, Arvien looked once more around, but saw nothing more then cuts her bde made when she tried to confront the imperial scout who eloquently evaded all her cleaving strikes, well-aimed thrusts and with a smoke bomb deprived her of sight, hearing and breathing. And no more she could see, as when she tried to look further behind and the sides, the lone raven bck braided high tail pulled her head back as it remained stuck between her and the tree. The pain welled her deep-set eyes with tears, whilst loosened the tensed muscles in her clitoris and its neighboring regions.

  Slightly, her cheeks rested upon the colrs of her light panoply, and she gnced at her bde and shield once more. As the tremors intensified, they their soft cshing produced a soft, rhythmic tolling mingled with the murmuring of the ravine below which seemed like the soft singing of beckoning nereids. Arvien still had a bit of her mana circuting, which she wished to reserve in case of a beast finding her first, but as she neared towards the shameful precipice of climaxing, desperation compelled her to left the bde from the earth and levitate it closer to herself.

  Beads of sweat dribbled down her narrow forehead, resting on the thick upper rim of the ruby red silk scarf. Arvien’s eyes bulged and quivered as she tried focusing onto the spell, watched as the bde squirmed within the earth, the shield slowly slid off into the snow and roots slithering along the bnket of snow like sea serpents swimming, ducking out from under calm waves. The smooth, hydrated skin over Arvien’s defined cheekbones reddened at both the effort to focus and resist the wave of pleasures conjured by the trembling earth.

  She knew if she managed not to be free, the warm bodily liquids of hers would flow with the same tenderness in the caressing confines of her breeches and undergarments as the effervescent waters flown down in the ravine, out from the Eptirrion Mountain’s subterranean tunnels. And as her weakened mind focused on the relief of climax, the spell achieved no more than pulling her sword out from the earth, and rested it upon the bed of frozen earth and snow. She mewled in anger and heat, resisted whilst squirming in the vain hope of the trees proving sturdier than the arcane woven ropes.

  In the utter darkness of dusk, the squeaking of her surcoat, the scraping of metal and the creaking of the rope echoed between the trees, whilst Arvien’s groans were nothing, but murmurs in the wind. Yet her efforts once more achieved naught, but the onset of drowsiness which could come not unless she released her saccharine, warm bodily fluids into her undergarment’s confines, where they could spread further. Arvien gave up not still, she continued when she believed herself to be rested enough.

  The tree remained stoutly silent, not even a faint moan gave Arvien hope that it would grant her aid in weakening the ropes. “Hmlp! H nmmd hmlp, hnnhnm!” Desperate, Arvien mustered her strength into a single cry for help, yet even that was not enough to break through the unseen yer of an etheric gag. The cry for help manifested as nothing more than a slightly louder moan, reaching not far, maybe five to ten meters from her hoary seating. Another bellowed, through the unseen and palpable yers, resulting in the same feeble volume, whilst after it, her head leaned against the rough trunk, the sharp tips reaching above and beyond her nape scraped by the harsh epidermis of the tree.

  Her st hope that it riled some meek beast, alerting the marching army Arvien believed would offer a less shameful fate than her present. The trembling continued, and as she went limp, waiting and hoping, white mist escaped the small, fring nostrils of her long, straight nose with a slender bridge melding into her forehead betwixt the high arching and thin brows of hers. Moans and whimpers heard only by Arvien echoed in the small clearing where she stumbled onto the camp of the elgyan scout, where she first experienced the tautness of siphoning ropes, the soft and constricted smoothness of silk, dampening scarves, and felt the warmthless of her cum filling her undergarment, trickling and caressing her thighs along with the euphoria of climaxing for the first time in her three hundred years of existence.

  Afterword:

  And another one. This one born from a slightly weird idea, a what if a three-hundred year old virgin got tied up in a forest, and a distant but forceful trembling made her orgasm. Well in short, though it is possible, it was more than that.

  With this the st of the first batch of Bound Diaries is over. I am considering them still in an experimental phase, see which works which isn't. But also pn to do the opposite, of instead focusing on the one binding, gagging and setting a guy or gal in a perilous situation. Though only one of the next two falls into this category. Partially.

  Their titles as of now in the outlining phase, Prisoner of Mind and Body, the second A Tight Corner. One of them simirly set in the past, a Chronicles story so to speak, the other in the Void Between Worlds, post 2500 era.

  Those two are the may Bound Diaries, but I also pn and well started working on a three-part side story, untitled yet. But its simirly set in the te Neo-Dawn Era, in the Void Between Worlds, and features the Grand Order of Myelia's Radiance besides two returning corsairs.

  For April, it is Passion Ride only, my currently longest work at around 20k words for five chapters. Lots of characters, lots of action scheduled for the end of April. Early access for the full will be up on Patreon and SubscribeStar next week probably. Will do one more round of editing, proofreading.

  So thank you for reading this and the short story, hope you all enjoyed it and till the next time take care and have a wonderful week and weekend.

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