AN: This has been inspired by caroo's picture and accompanying side story, “Taming a Demoness” (here). It'll be the first story I'm publishing here so please leave a review, I love hearing feedback and it means a lot to a new writer. ^_^
The beckoning was a sloppy one, but that was the sign of easy prey – from her place in the Abyss, the demoness Selica smiled. Most likely, the caster of the spell was an amateur human mageling, wishing to test his mettle. The sloppiness of the beckoning told her that he was probably new, and probably an easy grab. This fact, in particular, filled her demon heart with glee - she'd been pulling for ascension to a higher plane of the Abyss for quite some time now. Perhaps one more soul would prove that she was ready to make that jump. With a flick of her wrist, she responded to the calling, jumping across the planes into the location of the summoning.
She ended up in a familiar-looking room – then again, most wizards' workrooms looked the same. A simple workbench to one side, and lots of empty, bare space for the summoning of materials and the construction of inventions. She spotted the caller sitting upon his workbench, but through the smoke and glare of the invocation, could not see him well, not yet.
“ Zahal'tye, human,” she said, razor-sharp incisors baring for just a moment upon the end of her sentence. She hung onto the last syllable, cutting it off with an exotic-sounding curl. “How may I-”
“I have a deal to make,” came the reply. The man hopped off the bench and slowly approached the demoness, although he knew that he could not touch her until a contract was made.
“So forward, human? Name it,” she said. He knew what he wanted - she saw that look in his eyes. She dismissed him as just another nameless human mageling, thinking that he had the wits to challenge demons and win. He wouldn't be the first – far from it. She also hoped he wouldn't be the last one – this type were easy marks, easy to trick and decieve.
“I wish you for one night,” the human said. He was a rather handsome one, standing a bit taller than the rest of his kin, his skin slightly darker, tattoos adorning his bare chest and arms. “Twelve hours only, barring mutual agreement to amend the contract, no?”
“Ahai, human... and you know the price of a contract well, do you not?”
“Verily so!” he replied, with a broad grin. Such a condescending attitude, hmph. Of course, as it was well known, the price of any deal with a demon would be one's soul, taken immediately upon expiry.
Her tail swished dextrously as she pondered the bargain. The soul of a powerful magic-user would go far indeed, and might just be the thing to push her up to a higher level in the Abyss. Compared to the torments of Cania that she witnessed for so long, what could the human mageling do?
--
She was expecting for him to strip her, of course. The bodies of succubi such as herself tended to be irresistable to mortal men like him. Perfectly tanned olive-toned skin, an envious figure... yes, she thought she knew what he wanted. So typical she thought him out to be, with such typical human needs...
It was because of this that she became surprised when he pulled up a sturdy set of stocks after ordering her to undress. They were mithral in make, quite possibly of ancient elven metal, though the reshaped form was modern. He motioned for her to sit, and she did so. The contract stipulated that she had to do whatever he commanded for the duration of the spell. Eleven hours and fifty-two minutes he had remaining, and what he did next was more surprising.
As she watched, he pulled out a pumice stone, and an assortment of oils and lotions. She quirked a brow – she'd indulged some fetishists in her existence as a demoness, but this particular one was quite new to her. He began to use the stone on her left sole. What was he doing, giving her a human-style pedicure? He dripped some sort of oil on her foot and let it dribble down her sole, rubbing it in afterwards. She purred with pleasure, never quite having experienced the sensation before.
By the time she felt him stop pampering her left foot, twelve minutes had elapsed. Never before had she felt her soles so soft. He began on her right, and found herself back in a world of bliss as he began his work again. It felt like another eternity passed, and by the time he was all done, eleven and a half hours remained, but the thirty minutes felt much longer... her soles felt warm, soft, and slick with oils and lotions. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all... it would be a pity that his soul would be condemned like the rest, in a mere eleven hours.
It was what happened next that surprised her. Instead of letting her go, he pulled out a light straight jacket and approached her. Usually, men wished to see her in various states of undress, not a heavy, concealing garment like that. She shrugged, obeying his command to relax as he strapped it on. It wasn't a normal jacket by any means – small, golden straps and locks were to be seen all over, for tightening right up to the skin – left loose for now.
The mage turned his back and rummaged around his workbench for a moment, returning with two circular vibrators, an inch in diameter, slightly indented in the middle with soft bristles all around them. He reached inside the straitjacket and placed one upon each of Selica's nipples, nuzzling them firmly. Then, with a snap of his fingers, all of the clasps of the straitjacket tightened, hugging her curvaceous figure. The vibrators buzzed on, and immediately, Selica began to laugh and purr with pleasure, the stimulation being highly arousing, and growing more ticklish by the second as her nipples hardened, exposing more ticklish flesh to the soft bristles.
Next, he moved down to her feet, wiggling and squirming in the stocks. That simply would not do for him – he turned back to his workbench and pulled out a rectangular piece of metal, shaped with an indentation of the top of a foot. By binding this piece of metal to the top of her foot with a strap around her heel, he completely immobilized her sole by keeping her foot extended. Smaller pieces of metal around the tops of her toes immobilized them, leaving a nice gap between them. Selica could only watch in horror, as her vulnerable feet were made even more and more helpless, eventually not even able to wiggle one toe. All the while, she was giggling, a light flush coming over her cheeks as the vibrators tickled and tickled. A horrible realization came over her as she realized what was going on...
--
“It is time to begin, no?” he asked, looking down at his completed work with her feet. “You shall make a fine slave, pretty one,” he continued. Slowly, he began to drag his fingernails up the soles he himself had made so creamy-soft and sensitive. His fingernails dragged smoothly up the silky skin, then back down, the feet quivering, straining, but unable to find any sort of escape. Selica shrieked and laughed, harder and harder, unable to do anything but twist and squirm in the tight bonds of the straitjacket.
Pulling out a camel-hair paintbrush, he began exploring her toes, so ticklish, immobile, and helpless, all of their ticklish spots exposed by his devious bondage. He began to stroke the pads of her toes, in between her toes, taking care to leave no tiny part untickled. Each time his brush touched her toes, he was rewarded with a fresh howl of laughter, and he did so playfully at first, taking delight in the way she burst out laughing anew as he gave her little respites. After he tired of this, however, he picked up another brush and ran them, very quickly, up and down the undersides of her toes. She burst out laughing and did not stop this time, hysterically beginning and pleading for the torture of her vulnerable toes to end.
He gave no respite, however. Eldritch energies flowed from his wrists, forming tangible lashes. Slowly they stroked up and down her creamy soles, slightly fuzzy at the tips, finger-firm otherwise. As he concentrated, more and more dark lashes formed, concentrating upon her soles. Three per sole, six per sole, a dozen per sole... the tendrils flicked over and dragged across her soles, like tickling fingers but far quicker, far more dexterous, and better suited for tickling, being specifically invoked for the purpose.
She was losing her wits, whatever she had left of them. She'd been weakened by the gentle arousal and stimulation provided to her by the vibrators, but when he started tickling... each touch felt magnified tenfold by the lotions, oils, and the immobility. Her toes, normally unspeakably ticklish, were being tortured by a silky soft brush, quicker and quicker. Her baby-soft soles were the target of dozens of tickling digits, tormenting her and driving her insane with hysterical, frenzied laughter.
Looking up at the clock, she found that she still had eleven hours to go. The clock had not moved. She'd been tricked by her hubris and there would be no saving her.
Then, for the first time in her existence, she cried.
The beckoning was a sloppy one, but that was the sign of easy prey – from her place in the Abyss, the demoness Selica smiled. Most likely, the caster of the spell was an amateur human mageling, wishing to test his mettle. The sloppiness of the beckoning told her that he was probably new, and probably an easy grab. This fact, in particular, filled her demon heart with glee - she'd been pulling for ascension to a higher plane of the Abyss for quite some time now. Perhaps one more soul would prove that she was ready to make that jump. With a flick of her wrist, she responded to the calling, jumping across the planes into the location of the summoning.
She ended up in a familiar-looking room – then again, most wizards' workrooms looked the same. A simple workbench to one side, and lots of empty, bare space for the summoning of materials and the construction of inventions. She spotted the caller sitting upon his workbench, but through the smoke and glare of the invocation, could not see him well, not yet.
“ Zahal'tye, human,” she said, razor-sharp incisors baring for just a moment upon the end of her sentence. She hung onto the last syllable, cutting it off with an exotic-sounding curl. “How may I-”
“I have a deal to make,” came the reply. The man hopped off the bench and slowly approached the demoness, although he knew that he could not touch her until a contract was made.
“So forward, human? Name it,” she said. He knew what he wanted - she saw that look in his eyes. She dismissed him as just another nameless human mageling, thinking that he had the wits to challenge demons and win. He wouldn't be the first – far from it. She also hoped he wouldn't be the last one – this type were easy marks, easy to trick and decieve.
“I wish you for one night,” the human said. He was a rather handsome one, standing a bit taller than the rest of his kin, his skin slightly darker, tattoos adorning his bare chest and arms. “Twelve hours only, barring mutual agreement to amend the contract, no?”
“Ahai, human... and you know the price of a contract well, do you not?”
“Verily so!” he replied, with a broad grin. Such a condescending attitude, hmph. Of course, as it was well known, the price of any deal with a demon would be one's soul, taken immediately upon expiry.
Her tail swished dextrously as she pondered the bargain. The soul of a powerful magic-user would go far indeed, and might just be the thing to push her up to a higher level in the Abyss. Compared to the torments of Cania that she witnessed for so long, what could the human mageling do?
--
She was expecting for him to strip her, of course. The bodies of succubi such as herself tended to be irresistable to mortal men like him. Perfectly tanned olive-toned skin, an envious figure... yes, she thought she knew what he wanted. So typical she thought him out to be, with such typical human needs...
It was because of this that she became surprised when he pulled up a sturdy set of stocks after ordering her to undress. They were mithral in make, quite possibly of ancient elven metal, though the reshaped form was modern. He motioned for her to sit, and she did so. The contract stipulated that she had to do whatever he commanded for the duration of the spell. Eleven hours and fifty-two minutes he had remaining, and what he did next was more surprising.
As she watched, he pulled out a pumice stone, and an assortment of oils and lotions. She quirked a brow – she'd indulged some fetishists in her existence as a demoness, but this particular one was quite new to her. He began to use the stone on her left sole. What was he doing, giving her a human-style pedicure? He dripped some sort of oil on her foot and let it dribble down her sole, rubbing it in afterwards. She purred with pleasure, never quite having experienced the sensation before.
By the time she felt him stop pampering her left foot, twelve minutes had elapsed. Never before had she felt her soles so soft. He began on her right, and found herself back in a world of bliss as he began his work again. It felt like another eternity passed, and by the time he was all done, eleven and a half hours remained, but the thirty minutes felt much longer... her soles felt warm, soft, and slick with oils and lotions. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all... it would be a pity that his soul would be condemned like the rest, in a mere eleven hours.
It was what happened next that surprised her. Instead of letting her go, he pulled out a light straight jacket and approached her. Usually, men wished to see her in various states of undress, not a heavy, concealing garment like that. She shrugged, obeying his command to relax as he strapped it on. It wasn't a normal jacket by any means – small, golden straps and locks were to be seen all over, for tightening right up to the skin – left loose for now.
The mage turned his back and rummaged around his workbench for a moment, returning with two circular vibrators, an inch in diameter, slightly indented in the middle with soft bristles all around them. He reached inside the straitjacket and placed one upon each of Selica's nipples, nuzzling them firmly. Then, with a snap of his fingers, all of the clasps of the straitjacket tightened, hugging her curvaceous figure. The vibrators buzzed on, and immediately, Selica began to laugh and purr with pleasure, the stimulation being highly arousing, and growing more ticklish by the second as her nipples hardened, exposing more ticklish flesh to the soft bristles.
Next, he moved down to her feet, wiggling and squirming in the stocks. That simply would not do for him – he turned back to his workbench and pulled out a rectangular piece of metal, shaped with an indentation of the top of a foot. By binding this piece of metal to the top of her foot with a strap around her heel, he completely immobilized her sole by keeping her foot extended. Smaller pieces of metal around the tops of her toes immobilized them, leaving a nice gap between them. Selica could only watch in horror, as her vulnerable feet were made even more and more helpless, eventually not even able to wiggle one toe. All the while, she was giggling, a light flush coming over her cheeks as the vibrators tickled and tickled. A horrible realization came over her as she realized what was going on...
--
“It is time to begin, no?” he asked, looking down at his completed work with her feet. “You shall make a fine slave, pretty one,” he continued. Slowly, he began to drag his fingernails up the soles he himself had made so creamy-soft and sensitive. His fingernails dragged smoothly up the silky skin, then back down, the feet quivering, straining, but unable to find any sort of escape. Selica shrieked and laughed, harder and harder, unable to do anything but twist and squirm in the tight bonds of the straitjacket.
Pulling out a camel-hair paintbrush, he began exploring her toes, so ticklish, immobile, and helpless, all of their ticklish spots exposed by his devious bondage. He began to stroke the pads of her toes, in between her toes, taking care to leave no tiny part untickled. Each time his brush touched her toes, he was rewarded with a fresh howl of laughter, and he did so playfully at first, taking delight in the way she burst out laughing anew as he gave her little respites. After he tired of this, however, he picked up another brush and ran them, very quickly, up and down the undersides of her toes. She burst out laughing and did not stop this time, hysterically beginning and pleading for the torture of her vulnerable toes to end.
He gave no respite, however. Eldritch energies flowed from his wrists, forming tangible lashes. Slowly they stroked up and down her creamy soles, slightly fuzzy at the tips, finger-firm otherwise. As he concentrated, more and more dark lashes formed, concentrating upon her soles. Three per sole, six per sole, a dozen per sole... the tendrils flicked over and dragged across her soles, like tickling fingers but far quicker, far more dexterous, and better suited for tickling, being specifically invoked for the purpose.
She was losing her wits, whatever she had left of them. She'd been weakened by the gentle arousal and stimulation provided to her by the vibrators, but when he started tickling... each touch felt magnified tenfold by the lotions, oils, and the immobility. Her toes, normally unspeakably ticklish, were being tortured by a silky soft brush, quicker and quicker. Her baby-soft soles were the target of dozens of tickling digits, tormenting her and driving her insane with hysterical, frenzied laughter.
Looking up at the clock, she found that she still had eleven hours to go. The clock had not moved. She'd been tricked by her hubris and there would be no saving her.
Then, for the first time in her existence, she cried.
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