INFINITE CORRIDOR OF CARNAL DELIGHT

Ashen whimpered when Carabosse took him in her arms but was otherwise quite well behaved and still for her.

Her nightly commands had made him submissive and tame, although he shivered with a soft frightened sound when she lowered his head and stroked her tongue down the pointed cartilage of his ears.

"Please. Please don't hurt me."

The sound tore at her. As much as Ashen had been affected by the magic preparing him for Carabosse and her sisters, she had been changed in strange ways as well, just by his tenderness.

"Never," she whispered automatically and gasped.

Her temptation awakened inside her. There was no other word for it, and the sensation surged through her body like a white hot flame of pure desire.

It was such desperate intensity as she had not felt since the last binding. She had to work to focus through it, stunned with whatever this was.

Her temptation hadn't unraveled for so long, except during those nights, when this boy had pulled her to his dreams, and yet now she spoke with clarity again.

'Take. Make!'

'Make. Oh yes, make.' She had only been intending to play with him, but that word was suddenly everything in that moment.

It resounded through her head over and over while her sisters snarled it, thrashing in her head. And that word told her what was finally happening as well. 'My sisters, they crave to meet their husband-to-be.'

Carabosse's attention abruptly jerked away from tending to him when she heard footsteps, and she hissed at the door like an animal over its young, growling at the sounds she heard.

King Galahad had arrived home, it seemed, and he was yelling, screaming. "Where is he? Where is my son!"

The doorknob rattled, and Carabosse could smell his fear on the other side. It was something to make her grin with pleasure.

She waited for Galahad to kick through the door and burst the lock free, let him see her holding Ashen, let him take in the view of his son lost to tradition.

"Our tradition has been fulfilled, King Galahad," Carabosse said lightly. The shout of horrified despair was music to her ears when she willed Ashen and herself home together.

There was nothing so sweet as a king's sorrow, nothing so pure.

"GUARDS!!!" was the last word Ashen heard of his father.

___

Ashen and Carabosse materialized in a dense, shadowy forest. The air hung heavy, thick clouds obscuring any hint of moonlight. A chill crept up Ashen's spine as he surveyed their surroundings, disoriented and uneasy.

"Where are we?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Carabosse's lips curled into a warm smile, her emerald eyes glinting in the darkness. "Home," she replied simply.

Ashen gulped, his throat suddenly dry. They began walking, though in which direction, he couldn't say. His life in the tower had left him ill-equipped for such ventures. He'd learned about coordinates and cardinal directions from books, but theory paled in comparison to the reality of the forest around him.

As they walked, Ashen's mind raced. The leaves beneath their feet barely rustled, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. The trunks of ancient trees loomed on either side, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers.

After what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few minutes, Ashen spotted a break in the treeline ahead. As they drew closer, a structure began to take shape beyond the forest's edge. At first glance, it appeared to be a grand castle, but as they approached, Ashen realized it was unlike any castle he'd ever imagined in his dreams.

The castle was shrouded in darkness, its stone walls seeming to absorb what little light there was. Ghostly lamps flickered along its ramparts, casting eerie shadows that danced and swayed. But what truly caught Ashen's attention, what made his breath catch in his throat, was the impossible sight before him.

The castle was spinning.

Slowly, inexorably, the entire structure rotated on its foundation. Ashen blinked, certain he must be hallucinating, but the movement continued. He felt drawn to it, as if the castle's rotation was pulling him in like a whirlpool.

"In the darkest of the Dark Hills," Ashen murmured, a half-forgotten passage from a book surfacing in his mind, "where the night never ends."

Carabosse chuckled, the sound both melodious and unsettling. "Where one belongs will always find them," she said cryptically.

They approached a drawbridge spanning a moat so dark it seemed to be filled with ink rather than water. As they drew closer, Ashen's eyes were drawn to what he had initially thought were guards holding lamps. He sighed in relief at the sight of other elves, grateful for something familiar in this strange place.

But as they neared the gates, that relief curdled into unease. The figures weren't holding lamps – they were the lamps. Ashen's gaze darted from the sentries at the gate to those atop the walls and patrolling the perimeter. Each group's "lamps" glowed with a different hue, creating a disorienting rainbow of ethereal light.

"These... these aren't elves," Ashen whispered as they passed through the gates. He stared at the guards, unable to look away from their featureless, glowing forms.

Carabosse raised an eyebrow. "Odd. You mentioned reading about the spinning castle. Surely you encountered the templars in your studies?"

Ashen shook his head. "Mother forbade me from reading that particular book after the first day. I never knew why."

A knowing look passed over Carabosse's face. "Ah, I see. Well, my dear, allow me to enlighten you. These beings are called Tallowmen."

Ashen opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Carabosse placed a finger against his lips, silencing him. "All in due time, little husband. For now, welcome to your new home."

As they stood before the castle, Ashen couldn't help but notice the Tallowmen stationed around its perimeter. Their flickering flames cast an eerie glow on a row of carved faces adorning the spinning walls. These stone visages, immortalized in their final moments, seemed to watch him with hollow eyes. Ashen shuddered, trying to push away thoughts of the "corpse shafts" mentioned in the forbidden books.

Searching for an entrance, Ashen's eyes darted along the length of the rotating structure. He spotted only tiny windows that appeared and disappeared as the castle turned. "It's just like I read," he murmured. "There's no door. So, um, are you going to do your vanishing... thingy?"

Carabosse's laughter rang out, a melodic sound that seemed at odds with their surroundings. "Thingy? How adorably quaint. And how clever of you to deduce our method of entry."

In the blink of an eye, they materialized inside. Ashen found himself in a grand foyer, no longer feeling the disorienting spin of the castle's exterior. The room was a curious blend of opulence and decay. Faded tapestries hung on walls of weathered stone, depicting scenes both beautiful and grotesque. Ornate chandeliers swayed gently overhead, their crystals tinkling like wind chimes. The air held the musty scent of old books mixed with something sweeter, almost floral.

A spiral staircase wound its way upward, disappearing into the shadows above. As they began to ascend, Carabosse noticed Ashen's furrowed brow. "You look like you're bursting with questions, little husband," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Alright, alright, you can ask them now, before you meet your other wives. They can be a bit... clingy." She chuckled at her own joke.

Ashen bit his lip, considering. "Well, first off, why didn't we just... you know, 'thingy' directly into the castle?"

Carabosse let out a hearty laugh. "Ha ha ha! Oh my, aren't you full of surprises?" She composed herself before continuing. "It's the castle's defense mechanism, darling. Even I can't 'thingy,'" she emphasized the word with a smirk, "directly inside. We must pass the Tallowmen first. Any other burning questions?"

Ashen's words tumbled out in a rush. "What are the Tallowmen, really? If they're not elves, how do they exist? Who made them? Why are their heads on fire, and why are the flames different colors? And why haven't we seen any inside the castle?"

Carabosse's laughter echoed through the stairwell. "Hee hee hee! Oh, you are delightful! One at a time, little husband, one at a time."

She began to answer, her voice taking on a teacher-like tone. "The Tallowmen were designed by Isadora, one of your wives-to-be. She's the genius among us seven, responsible for this very tower as well. They're made of candle wax, which is why they're not allowed inside. They'd make quite a mess as they gradually melt."

Ashen's eyes lit up with interest. He had always been fascinated by art and craftsmanship, and this Isadora sounded like someone he'd enjoy talking to.

Suddenly, a high-pitched shriek pierced the air, startling Ashen out of his thoughts. He looked up to see another elf standing before them. Her appearance was striking – her skin a deep crimson, her eyes an iridescent swirl of colors. She stood with one hand covering her mouth, her expression a mix of shock and excitement.

The red-skinned elf looked at Carabosse, pointing at Ashen with her free hand. It was as if she was silently asking for confirmation.

Carabosse giggled. "In the flesh," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement.

Instantly, the newcomer began jumping up and down like an excited child. Despite her already red skin, a deeper blush was visible on her cheeks. "Oh! Oh! What are you waiting for?" she cried out to Carabosse. "Introduce me to our husband!"

Ashen felt his own face grow warm. The reality of his situation – being referred to as "husband" by these strange, beautiful beings – was starting to sink in. He glanced at Carabosse, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in his eyes.

Carabosse placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Ashen, my dear," she said, her voice warm and slightly teasing, "meet Isadora, your other wive-to-be."

"Come along, little husband. Time to meet the rest of your new family." Carabosse said, breezing past them.

Isadora's smile faltered a bit. "Can't we wait a bit? He's only just arrived..."

Carabosse turned, fixing Isadora with a look that made the words die in her throat. Ashen glanced between them, noting how Isadora's earlier excitement had morphed into nervous energy. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, eyes darting anywhere but Carabosse's face.

'Why are they suddenly against each other?' Ashen thought, following them. They descended deeper into the castle's twisting corridors, the walls seeming to press in closer as they went.

Finally, they reached a set of ornate double doors at the end of a dimly lit hallway. Carabosse paused for a moment, then proceeded to push them open with a flourish, revealing... impossibility.

"What?" Ashen blinked, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. Beyond the threshold, lay not a room, but an endless tunnel.

Swirling colors – deep pinks, vibrant purples, and ethereal turquoise – spiraled in hypnotic patterns. At its center, a piercing white-blue light pulsed like a distant star, beckoning and terrifying all at once.

For the first time since arriving, Ashen's instincts screamed at him to turn around. To run.

He took a step back, only to feel two hands on his shoulder, holding him in place. Before he could react, they shoved him forward. He stumbled inside, the doors slamming shut behind him with finality.

In that last moment, he caught a glimpse of Isadora's face – a forced smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Carabosse's words drifted through the closing gap.

"Despite his age, he's still a child within. He must be stripped of all innocence in order to satisfy our desires..."

The doors sealed shut, leaving Ashen alone in the swirling, infinite corridor of carnal delight.

***

So that's how it all started. How Ashen found himself in the infinite corridor of carnal delight!!