Bound to the Turnings of the Wheel

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters within it are completely fictional. The Wheel of Time universe is also completely fictional. Even the universe you and I inhabit may be partially or completely fictional. The pseudoscience portrayed as serious by this fictional work is completely fictional, and classified government research sites that take it seriously are either completely fictional or complete wastes of black budget money.

Names and characterizations of real-world people, places, and things have been altered to fit this story. There is nothing particularly magical about Atlanta and any work that suggests anything to the contrary is inherently fictional.

The fictional Seanchan were complex villains in the fictional Wheel of Time universe, but were nonetheless villains. Their practices regarding human slavery in myriad forms were villainous. The author does not condone villainy in any forms that are relevant here, including human slavery, condominium owners’ associations, drinking whisky before noon, and run-on expository sentences.

If you are still reading, I salute you and welcome you to the dark, twisted, and seldom-shared corners of my mind.

Chapter 1

Barely an hour had passed between the release of the final episode of season one of The Wheel of Time when Isabel Bauer got the FaceTime call from her—well, whatever they were after two years apart, that was actually a complicated topic—but from Adalynn Shields. Isabel couldn’t hold back a laugh, and also couldn’t completely suppress the butterflies in her stomach. The two summers they had spent together had been wild, erotic, and surreal. But they were still friends, and were both Wheel of Time fans, and Isabel had just gotten done watching the season finale herself, too. After a moment’s hesitation, she took the call.

The moment she saw Adalynn’s face appear on the screen, Isabel was about to ask, are you about to head out for a date? The woman’s hair and makeup were done up far too much for crashing on the couch at 8 p.m. Isabel’s were decidedly not. But Isabel never got the chance to ask what the big occasion was. Adalynn jumped right in.

“Oh my God, did you see?!”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “You mean the ridiculously wasteful use of the One Power to make a tidal wave to attack one girl on an otherwise-deserted beach?”

“Yes, that. Also, the damane!”

“Oh, is that what those were? I couldn’t tell. Given, you know, how not-like-the-books they looked.”

“Adapted for the screen, my dear marath’damane. They needed something big and dramatic for the cameras.”

“As if bright silver collars and leashes wouldn’t have been enough for that?” Isabel ignored the flush of heat and tingle of electricity that spread throughout her body at Adalynn casually referring to her as marath’damane, ‘those who must be leashed.’ Isabel had spent many an evening, and even the occasional entire day, in a collar with Adalynn–or Mistress Lanfear, as the Wheel of Time uber-fan preferred to be called when “in character”–holding the leash. Though of course back then they had both just turned eighteen, and Adalynn had been off to MIT in the fall, and the collar and leash in question had been acquired secondhand from a local Buckhead trophy wife on Facebook Marketplace, and had previously been used on said trophy wife’s trophy dog. It had been pink with white rhinestones.

“Why stop there when you can have a massive torc and magic gag?”

Isabel had spent a certain amount of time wearing Mistress Lanfear’s various gags that wild summer before college, too, often in resigned silence, sometimes in helpless mewling as Adalynn drove her crazy. The memory was not exactly helping calm the wild and erotic lightning tingling in her flesh, stronger now than it had ever been when Adalynn wasn’t Mistress Lanfear and wasn’t playing with her in person. Strong enough to raise the most tentative and easily-ignored of red flags in the back of her mind, a reminder of why Isabel had used her safeword for the final time at the end of the one summer that Adalynn had come home for, after her freshman year.

“Of course what you’re really thinking is why stop at a massive torc and a magic gag, isn’t it, Mistress?” Dammit, did I really just slip back into calling her that on a FaceTime call from a thousand miles away? Though, in fairness, the subject matter had a certain effect on her state of mind.

A knowing but sharp smile spread across Adalynn’s face. “Two years and you still know me as well as ever, Isari.”

Isabel blew a long, nostalgic breath at the pet name Mistress Lanfear had given her when she wore the woman’s collar. It might have been a heavy sigh. “We went through a lot together, you know.” It was clear now she was referring to more than just D/s cosplay.

Adalynn’s smile softened, though lost none of its brightness. “I’m well aware, Isari.” Then her soft smile re-sharpened into a smirk. “Looking forward to going through even more together.”

Isabel’s breath caught. “You know we can’t. I can’t,” she said reluctantly.

“You still get the headaches?”

“Yeah. And … you know … the other things.”

“The spasms?”

“Sometimes, but also … you know.”

“I do. And yet you took my call. So the part of you that’s scared of it isn’t the only part of you with a hand on the steering wheel.”

Isabel shrugged, mostly to fight back a tear. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter.”

“There are two schools of thought on that, Isari. Pull the phone back. Pan down your body. Slowly. Show me what you’re wearing.”

Isari’s breath caught. “The fact that I’m a submissive geek doesn’t mean I can be your submissive geek.” she breathed. It would have sounded like a lie even if she had just been talking to the mirror.

“Mistress Lanfear wasn’t asking, Isari. Do it.”

Isabel gulped and took a breath to steady herself, but her hand was already moving, slowly, hesitantly panning her phone’s camera down her body. No one who wasn’t a Wheel of Time geek themselves would know the significance of the fossil-grey maxi dress that Isabel was wearing. It was not an obvious cosplay; Isabel had gotten it from the clearance rack at Belk. But Adalynn and Isabel were Wheel of Time geeks, and Adalynn had a sharp, knowing look in her eyes when Isabel finished and turned the phone screen back so that she could see it.

“Very good, Isari. That’s what I like to see. In fact, that’s what I like to see on what I like to see.”

“Addie, I …”

Adalynn’s eyes sharpened further, and a cold spark flickered there. “What was that, Isari?”

“Mistress,” Isabel continued without missing a further beat, despite the feeling like the fire in her veins had just done an awkward dance, “I wish things could have been different. But, thanks. I’m glad I can still at least geek out with you at a distance.”

“You’re very welcome, Isari. And as a reward for being such a good damane today, I’ll let you see how I just enjoyed the season finale. Oh, and Isari? Don’t look away.”

With that, Adalynn held her own phone back and began to pan slowly down her body. It was apparent in seconds what the woman was wearing, but she drew out the moment nonetheless. The bodice of her dress was soft leather and almost a corset in bold red marked with golden lightning bolts. It had a deep neckline, form-fitting across her breasts and lifting them just the right amount. The leather across the top of her breasts was thicker and flowed up and out to two short wings that stood up from her shoulders. The full sleeves were royal blue, as was the flowing hem of the dress below the waist, with red panels on the sides matching the bodice. And on her wrist, where she let the camera linger longest just to make extra sure that Isabel saw, she wore a silver bracelet attached to a long, thin, coiled silver leash, and thick, elegant silver collar that gleamed so brightly that it practically glowed in the dim light of Adalynn’s surroundings. Isabel was awestruck, and not just at the stunning curves of her erstwhile lover and the way the dress hugged them. That was no close-enough red-and-blue dress from the local thrift store that people sewed a couple of lightning bolts on. It was unmistakably custom-made by someone who knew what they were doing. Even without the a’dam, that was the kind of cosplay that people spent more than a thousand dollars on, and an entire week in the workshop if they were costumers themselves.

And the a’dam itself–that was no repurposed dog collar with a bit of painted rope. It wasn’t even something you’d find just by browsing the catalogs of some of the higher-end BDSM shops on the Internet, even those who had the means to use genuine silver plating for their more statement pieces. Isabel had spent an aroused evening or two doing just that kind of browsing. The collar and leash hanging suggestively on Adalynn’s hip were more than that, though. The set was clearly a custom-made masterwork. If the show itself had intended to stay more in line with the books, it was something that the costume and set designers of the show would have paid top dollar for.

Isabel gulped, and the tingle in her flesh, especially between her legs and in her now-erect nipples, surged in intensity.

“Like what you see?” Adalynn asked, still panning the phone down her body and showing off her cosplay. She had reached her feet now, revealing that she had taken one small liberty with the books. Sumptuous black leather boots with five-inch heels and a familiar red sole graced her feet, and all of her statuesque legs that Isabel could see, so they at least went up past her ankles. The Wheel of Time books never focused too much on the kind of footwear worn by the sul’dam, the Holders of the Leash. They most likely wore durable, practical footwear because they were often sent into combat by the Seanchan empire they served, but in Adalynn’s headcanon, they apparently wore Christian Louboutin.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Kinda, yeah what?”

Isabel felt like she was going to roll her eyes, but they wouldn’t even move, even though the gesture was more than deserved. “Kinda yeah, Mistress.”