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Cloudberry Chronicles Part I: The Joy of Justice

Categories Fantasy, BDSM, Death, Female solo

Author: dresspockets

Published: 07 March 2018

  • Font:

CW and themes: fantasy, predicament play, horror, magic, peril, transformation, lesbian, temperature play, ice, sybian, melting, oral


When Cloudberry was a baby, the land of her birth was thrown sideways into a war it didn’t want, with a country it had never heard of. The dark elves rose up from the caverns beneath their feet, and they didn’t stand a chance. The peaceful stability of the surface kingdoms was shattered overnight. Most had thought the presence of great underground cities filled with a violent, shadowy folk to be nothing more than a myth – they were wrong. The spider riders and the necromancers swarmed over the surface, merciless and cruel.

Thrown into a fugitive, nomadic lifestyle, the snow elves, called in their own tongue the Lumenv?ki, travelled across the land - from high mountain to boreal forest - forever trying to stay one step ahead of the dark elf hordes. The snow elves fought back with gruella tactics, collapsing their tunnels and crushing their spider-mounts.

Now Cloudberry had passed her 124th birthday, and lived 123 years of her life under war. And she was ready to end it. After joining the mage-scouts she gained proficiency as a mage, bending the harsh elements of the snow kingdom to her will. She had devoted her entire life to protecting her kith and kin, never looked up from her books or rested for longer than a night of sleep. She never had time for friends, for play or for… love.

Word had spread of a Drow artefact which, if obtained, could turn the tide of war.

And she was going to be the one to find it.


The harsh cold bit at the exposed part of her face. It had been hours since she has felt the tip of her nose. The blizzard continued to howl around her face, whipping the fur on her hood and threatening to tear it off her head. She had dressed warmly in several long robes, and as she trudged through the snow the colours of her many layers swirled around her ankles.

“It should be somewhere around… here.”

Her foot touched ice beneath the snow, and for a moment the flurry cleared and she was able to see that she was standing at the edge of a large, iced-over lake. With a few deft movements her snowshoes were replaced with ice skates, her trailing robes tied up around her waist like a multicolour sash. She took a moment to brush the snow off the page of the open book she was carrying, revealing a map with faintly glowing outlines (and a glowing dot, marked ‘me’), before closing it with a sharp thump and setting off over the ice.

The wind tried to blow her off course, but she was a seasoned skater and her forward crossovers kept her from losing momentum and veering too sharply aside. Eventually her goal appeared through the dazzling white – an island, and on it, a weather-beaten ruin of an ancient temple.

A Drow temple.

It was a small, square construct barely larger than her room back at the mage’s keep. One wall was practically missing, and the remains of tree roots, long-dead from the harshness of the climate, clung to the remaining walls and trailed across the floor.

The sound of the howling wind was muffled in here, and it felt eerily quiet. She could clearly hear her breath for the first time in days, and her heartbeat.

It took only a moment to locate the trapdoor and clear away the brittle roots enough to open it. She changed her boots yet again, from ice-ready blades to tough climbing shoes. It was a long way down, and she wasn’t about to mess this up.

As she clambered down the dank and narrow staircase, one hand on the frosty wall and the other holding a conjured magelight, she thought through the plan one more time.

The Drow queen started this war because an ancient artefact had gone missing from her court, and she blamed the snow elves of stealing it. This same artefact, she hoped, was the one she was now heading towards.

The stairwell opened out into a broad, well-lit cavern of blue ice, and she realised for the first time that the stairs were not made of temple rock, but pure ice. An ethereal glow pulsed from deep within the walls, and high above her stalactites bigger than she was filled the far away ceiling. The cavern had retained some heat beneath the permafrost, not enough to be considered pleasant or even warm, but enough that her massive furs were more of a nuisance than a help. She took them off, and felt free to stretch in her loose academy robe.

Her reflection gazed back at her from a thousand different places, caught inside the multifaceted sheets of ice. She stared at her form as she crossed the frozen floor. A half-elf girl with tight, curly ginger hair stared back at her. She had often been teased for that hair, so human in its origin, and so bright and fiery next to the more demure and pallid snow elf tones. She kept it short, and her long pointed ears peaked though the top. This is how she got her nickname – with her hair so red she looked just like an arctic cloudberry. She had put on her finest robes at the start of this adventure, but they were now starting to show signs of wear and tear – there was patches on her sleeves and her hem was pale and frostbitten. She stuck her wand, a beautiful sprig of silver aspen, into her belt and carried on.

Near the farthest wall, where the glow seemed strongest, was a raised dais with a basin in front of it, and what looked like an ornately carved throne. Not a very comfortable seat, she thought, looking at its saddle-like shape and strange, bumpy textured surface. She consulted her book.

“The Joy of Just-Ice is one of the Queen’s most beloved of all her royal ritual objects. It grants the wearer a complete and utter love for Just-Ice. Once worn, the throne of Just-Ice will set the wearer free.”

She thought about the odd spelling of the word Just-Ice. Her Drow language skills were perfect, she thought, and she was fairly certain it was probably just a regional variant of the word ‘justice’. If she could only bring this back to the Drow Queen, she would surely remember her love for justice and honour, and stop attacking her people. Yes, this had to be it.

She adjusted her robes and brushed the snow off her shoulders before walking up the dais steps to the basin. It was a marvel, completely carved from the ice of the dais. Channels cut into the floor led into its centre. She could clearly look down and see the words engraved into the bottom:

“Fill me and be released.”

Huh, she thought. I wonder what that could mean.

She shrugged, and moved on. On top of a nearby pedestal was a small ball. It looked like it was made of twinkling clear crystal, but when she picked it up it was practically weightless. As she held it up she realised it was attached to two ornate straps on either side. A necklace? It looked too big and bulky to fit comfortably around someone’s neck.

Whatever it was, this was the Joy of Just-Ice, she finally held it in her hand! She grinned with excitement, and opened her mouth to make a silent cry of victory. With this she was going to-

With a jerk, the bauble shot out of her hand and into her open mouth.


She made a strangled cry, cut off sharply by the artefact in her mouth. She only had a moment to register what had happened before the straps whipped around her head, latching themselves to one another and holding the ball firmly in place.

Her hands dropped the book and flew up to her face. She scrabbled in vain at her cheeks to try and remove the chains, which had slowly tightened until the ball rested between her teeth, her tongue pushed into the back of her mouth. All too quickly did her mouth fill with saliva, which then began to… freeze?

Cloudberry stopped, confused. Her tongue pushing weakly against the ball. It was cold to the touch and, yes she was certain of it, ice had started to form around the ball. She licked at it frantically, trying to warm it up, but no – the cursed item was impervious to heat. Her lips began to turn blue, and goosebumps spread over her arms and legs.

It was cold. So very, very cold. She wished now she hadn’t taken her furs off. She began to shiver violently, clasping her arms to herself tightly.

If only it wasn’t fixed to her mouth, she would be able to use a simple fire spell to warm up! But no, she couldn’t utter a word.

“Uhhhm” She tried to speak, but all that came out was her muffled cries.


She sank down onto the floor, defeated and dejected. So this was how it ended. She was a fool to have even come here. She put her head in her hands and gave in to the magic, letting it devour her with its icy maw.

Slowly but surely, starting with her lips and fingertips, the young half-elf’s skin began to turn a ghostly blue. It spread up her arms, over her neck and face, down back her belly, her crotch and her legs. Even her bright ginger hair turned instead to a pale shade of almost-white. Her fingernails were white, her lips white. Her eyes a glowing pale blue.

For a while, the magic consumed her like this until suddenly, it was gone. And in the light of the ethereal cave her body pulsed with that same shining presence.

She opened her eyes, and gasped.

Her skin was like ice. No, not her skin. Her whole body. She could see straight through her hands and see the dais behind them. She looked down at her exposed chest above her neckline… it was crystalline, like a prism, and she could faintly see the outlines of internal organs and bones inside her. Her breasts held their shape but she could see right through them, see their curve as it ran below and rested on her tummy. She ran a hand through her hair, and it jingled like a thousand icicles chiming together. She still had no use of her mouth, but that felt ok. She felt empowered, and full of frantic energy.

Every tiny movement she made, the slightest breath or the tiniest glance, made her body reflect the light like a multifaceted crystal. She was made of ice and sound and colour, and she felt alive.

The cold was no longer an issue, she didn’t feel it at all. Her clothes felt drab and stifling next to her scintillating flesh, so she untied her robe carefully and watched her reflections in the multifaceted ice walls as her naked body rose out from the crumbled garment. She was surrounded by multiple crystalline versions of herself, all copying her movements exactly from every possible angle.

She felt filled with a yearning, a desire to run her hands over this beautiful creation. She was like a sculpture of immaculate transparency. No mortal hand had made anything so beautiful, so lifelike, so full of… joy.

Cloudberry ran her fingers up her thighs, saw how strange it looked to see the floor through her legs through her hand. Her supple breasts were full like tear drops, each of them a soft but solid handful. She ran her hands over them and saw how beautiful her nipples looked in blue – one of the few places of her body that retained any colour at all, as well as her lips… both pairs of lips.

Her labia were small and had multiple creases, and framed her clit like the petals of some kind of rare flower. She could see her vulva through her stomach, could see the faint outlines of her rippled vaginal walls. She tensed her muscles at the thought, and watched with wonder as her pussy tightened.

So that’s what it looks like from the inside, she thought.

She shook her head slightly to the side and moaned and her glacial hair tinkled and echoed across the cavern floor.

What is wrong with me? Why am I acting like this!?

She sighed and placed a finger on her clit, turning it slowly in small circles. Her body was a diamond, and she got to play with it. She wanted to bite her bottom lip but couldn’t, the gag still firmly in place. She bit the gag instead, and like magic a wave of pleasure seemed to course through her body.

And then it struck her. The odd spelling of Just-Ice. It wasn’t justice at all, the artefact turned everything to… just ice. She would laugh out loud, if only she could. The gag allowed no laughter, only moans.

This feeling then, this… desire…

This was the joy the artefact brought. A sexual peak that only magic could find. She had heard the term ‘joy’ used by mages before to refer to arcane sex magic, which was apparently so powerful that any spells or artefacts that used it were banned. No wonder the Drow Queen wanted this hidden.

But now the only question remained, she thought as she lazily flicked her clit with the end of her finger: What to do about it?

Should she – could she – break the law, and practise this forbidden art?

It was hard to resist the sensations, but she still had a chance to turn back. Her breasts pulsed with opalescent radiance as the beat of her heart got faster.

Yes. With this power, she could turn the tide of the war. She could bring peace. Peace through… love.

Saliva was beginning to drip out her mouth, leaving a little icicle on her chin as the hot fluid made patterns over her gleaming tits. It was hard to tell if it was all saliva, or if her body was melting under the heat of her desire.

She turned her attention to the second half of the quote. The throne of Just-Ice will set the wearer free. Reaching out, she carefully traced the runes on the floor, spelling out “fill me and be released” around the empty font. As she did so, a drop of water from her fingertip splattered onto the floor and slid down the incline into the basin.

Her attention turned to the seat, what she supposed was the throne. It had a saddle-like shape, with hand rests to the side and a place for your feet to rest. Carved from the same blue-icy crystal as the basin, its surface was riddled with bumps and protrusions. It looked very uncomfy. As she got closer, she realised the chair was covered in realistically carved figures, writhing around on the surface of the seat in some kind of giant orgy. Breasts and butts chiselled from the smooth gemstone covered the scene, locked in time, and tiny faces made tiny gasps as tiny hands gave them tiny orgasms.

Gingerly she climbed over it, and lowered herself gently onto the seat. It felt better than she anticipated, the many bumps pushed against her bare ass, her vulva and her thighs. She wiggled to get into position and immediately the seat did its magic. The ridges of the small bodies pressed against her bare flesh, and her squirming made them press against her clit and run up and down her vulva with ripples of pleasure. They had been carefully crafted to press against the user and create a very intense stimulation, one that mimicked that which the figures themselves were receiving.

She bit down again on the ball and without thinking, grabbed the hand rests and pushed down hard with her hips. The texture of the seat was alternatively ribbed, ridged, bumpy and rough. The variety of sensations was intoxicating, and she felt the protrusions slide around her pussy lips as she rubbed her body against them. Looking down, she saw her lips wrap around a pair of figures – one giving oral sex, the other receiving. As her pink flesh engulfed them, the light changes and she swore she saw a different expression fly across their faces. Squeezing her thighs against the side, she could feel the ridges pulling back her hood and exposing her clitoris, before some other texture would push it back again.

She moaned, and saliva ran from her mouth, falling off her chin and making its way into the waiting pool below. It now contained a very tiny amount of liquid.

Cloudberry pulled her body forward, grinding her clit up and down against the ridges of the seat. Her translucent body was now sleek with moisture. The throne was vibrating softly via some magical energy, and it felt incredible when she pressed up against it. It felt alive beneath her. She brought her legs in closer, her feet slipping over the wet floor, and placed her toes on the footrest.

Immediately, that seemed to activate some inner mechanism. The vibrating intensified, giving her a pleasure that was almost too sensitive, too much to bear. She squirmed to lift herself up from the intensity of the throne, but found she couldn’t move her hands.

In the distraction of her pleasure, she hadn’t noticed some of the figures had reached out and grasped her hands. She hadn’t seen them move, but not sure enough a ring of busty figures of all shapes and sizes had formed around her wrists. Some of them seemed to look at her with mocking eyes and laughter at the edge of their frozen smiles.

She looked down. Yes, her ankles too were held in place by small, strong hands. She screamed.

But of course, no sound came out. Only a dull moan as the crystal ball absorbed her words.

She felt a motion beneath her. Looking down, she saw the figures disappear and swirl around until a new carving presented itself. A mouth, gently biting at its plump and feminine lower lip. Cloudberry squeaked and, despite wanting this so badly, without thinking she pulled against her restraints.

So this is what this magic is like…? Am I truly ready for this?

It was too late to wonder. Despite being cut from hard crystal the lips seemed soft against her vulva. They parted, and sucked deeply at her clit.

“Uh, nnuh!”

She could only screw her eyes tightly and brace herself against the waved of pleasure lapping at her crotch. Glistening droplets formed on her arms, chest and legs… every so often dripping softly to the floor and running into the basin. It was now a small puddle.

Her nipples stood to attention and she felt sure that if someone were to run their hand over them right now, that they would feel harder than diamonds. She wanted – no, needed – something, anything to touch them. She would explode from desire otherwise. But her hands were held firm, her legs remained shackled, and her begging was lost beneath the ball gag. No matter how she struggled, she couldn’t move her body. She was stuck in this position, sitting with her legs wrapped around the saddle.

The mouth let go of her, and she had a couple of seconds to catch her breath. Then, carefully and precisely, it parted her lips with its tongue, and entered her.


When she looked down, she could see the tongue inside her, snaking up and up as though never ending. The tip of the tongue flicked at the walls it glided past, and she watched her muscles contract through her translucent skin. Helpless and with water running off her face, she pushed herself downwards. She had minimal control, but she could use what she did have to get what she wanted.

The throne took this encouragement with relish, enthusiastically thrusting itself deeper inside her, her restraints tightening. She saw the rivers of liquid rush down from her into the basin, which was filling rapidly. Was it sweat? Surely not, it was way too cold for that.

The Joy of Just-Ice seemed like a part of her now. She couldn’t remember a time when she was able to open her mouth. Her jaw muscles ached but the basin still wasn’t full. She wondered what her tongue looked like, pressed against the gag – was is translucent, like the rest of her? No time to wonder, her thoughts were filled with the myriad of sensations her body was going through.

She rubbed her clit against the ridges of the throne while it filled her with deeper and thicker strokes of its daemonic tongue. It seemed to swell to meet her needs, in all the right places. More and more she felt like she couldn’t tell where she ended and it began.

She felt exhilarated, and in her ecstasy bit down upon the bauble in her mouth. As always, a wave of magical force flew through her, but this time she knew what to do.

Touch me. She thought. My nipples. Touch me.

The throne was listening. The small army of carven figures pulled her arms forward and her legs back, changing the shape of the throne and pulling her down to rest on top of the ornate surface.


She moaned loudly. Her breasts pressed against the cold hard crystal. She bit again on the gag, harder.

Do it. Please!

Through her translucent skin she could see the crystal reach around her nipples and, suddenly, bite hard onto them in the same way that she had bit the ball. A lightning bolt hit her. She bit the gag again, and the crystal bit her in the same way. She licked the gag, and the crystal licked her back. Like a holy trinity, her clit and her nipples formed a triangle of pure pleasure that brought her to intense, rolling, wavelike orgasm. It came crashing around her, she was drowned in it. Her breath stopped for an instant and she stared into nothingness. She floated for a second on the crescendo of pulsing rapture, as though she was at the bottom of the deep ocean.

And then she breathed out. Her whole body was electric. She felt like she had completely melted. Her mind was free.

Except… she HAD completely melted.

No part of her remained on the throne, only trickles of water left from her icy body. The basin was finally full – of her!

She panicked.

No! It said I would be free if I filled the basin! Not like this!

She strived to remember her human form. A watery hand emerged from the bowl, and another. Finally, a distinctly Cloudberry-shaped head.

“Please, no!” She cried, and tried to fling herself towards the edge of the pool. It was hopeless, her actions only served to stir up the water and sent ripples running through her.

It was getting cold.

With a start she realised that the Joy of Just-Ice was sitting on the side by the throne, which had now retreated back into its ornately carved state. Without it, she couldn’t control the water.

Must… find… a way…

She tried to focus on creating legs. She tried to wade through the water that was herself, her breath clouding in front of her.

She was freezing.


As though in slow motion, the water began to turn back into ice. Without the help of the gag, there was no way to control it. Slowly but surely, the tendrils of cold spread up through her water-form body. Whimpering, she reached desperately for the crystal ball, fingers barely grazing it…

…and froze.

A perfect sculpture of a half-elf woman, naked and crawling out of the frozen pool as though leaving a warm bath. Now locked forever in a position of desperation, hand grasping forward. A look of dismay upon her face.

By the side lay an old book, and a pile of discarded clothes.



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Cloudberry Chronicles Part I: The Joy of Justice

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