Rithwraith
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Jul 7, 2005
- Messages
- 60
- Points
- 0
(Link to first story: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=120657 )
Greetings once again. Thanks to any and all who read the first chapter and to Darth Vegeta for commenting. In answer to your request, well, this shall be a long and open story, and all things are possible.
Also for disclaimer’s sake, like Aribeth, the characters of Aerie and Imoen are the property of Bioware.
Tickling Tales of the Sword Coast.
Chapter 2: How not to make friends
Meanwhile, in the Beggar’s Nest…
“Do we really have to do this?” Aerie asked for what had to be the seventeenth time.
“Yeth.” Imoen replied as best she could with two lock picks between her teeth, and a third buried in the lock of a heavy wooden door.
“Why do we have to do this?” Aerie snapped back, her voice an angry whisper “come on Imoen, do you really think sneaking into the thieves’ guild to retrieve some lady’s broach is a good idea?”
“Nope.” Came the carefree response as Imoen plucked the two tools from her teeth, “but doing it for five thousand gold each is.”
“That money won’t be any good to us if we get caught. What do you think those… those people will do to us if they catch us in there? Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not really, I mean if a dozen angry thieves come at us then I can just push you at them and run.”
Aerie threw her pale arms to the sky in exasperation. She knew that Imoen was joking of course, but her strange sense of humour wasn’t all too funny when there was danger not too far away, especially when said danger seemed so pointless.
“Oh lighten up Aerie.” Imoen said with a smirk, “If things get bad then do you really think that we won’t be able to handle it? I mean come on, you’re always telling me you’re one of the ‘most powerful spell casters in all of Faerun.”
“I’m not always saying that!”
“Oh please, every day it’s Archmagi this and favoured of Baer’var that…”
“That’s not the point. Magic won’t help much if we don’t have time to cast, which we won’t if we step on a spike trap of get stabbed in the back.”
“Then let’s not do either of those things. Gods Aerie relax will ya? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”
“Yes, and we spent almost all the reward money paying for that bakery we destroyed.”
Imoen smiled, the truth was that it wasn’t so much almost all the money they’d spent so much as almost all of Aerie’s share.
“Baer’var can’t approve of this.”
A short ‘click’ told Imoen that the unassuming door on the disused brewery was now unlocked. About time too, if she had to listen to any more of Aerie’s whining then she was going to backstab her herself. Dear Gods, the woman could never just do something without going on about what the Gods might think or whether it was ‘right’ or not.
Still, at the end of the day they normally made a good team. That is to say between them they normally set entire city blocks alight with fireballs when a fight broke out and then made good their escape with the goods. Hopefully they’d do the same this time, only without the fire part.
Besides, rumour had it the organised thieves in Neverwinter were little more then pickpockets with a clubhouse. How hard could this be?
Meanwhile…
It was, if nothing else, nice to be outside. At least the air was still pleasant.
While she’d slept, if it could be called sleep, Sarir had taken Aribeth outside, carried her up a ladder to the roof and tied her securely to the chimney. Once again her arms had been tied over her head and fastened to a small hook on the side of the small wooden chimney that seemed to serve no purpose save for holding bound wrists in place. Her bare feet also remained held together with a length of rope around her ankles. They still itched from the brief tickling they’d been subjected to when her captor brought her up here.
Sarir himself had walked off into the woods to collect firewood or urinate on a tree, or perhaps just to see if she’d scream for help from atop his roof.
She grimaced at the image, but for some reason it didn’t seem likely. This Sarir was a villain, there was no question of that, though in spite of all he had done, he could have easily done far worse. In the half day she’d been his captive his hands had stayed away from any of her more private areas. He had given her food, water and even allowed her to stretch her legs for a short time. He had even given her a tunic, if not trousers or shoes, to guard against the cold.
But his questionable self-restraint wouldn’t spare him from Tyr’s justice. He still had to pay for his wrongdoings, and as soon as she was free of these accursed restraints she would subdue him and drag him back to Neverwinter. No one at the Hall of Justice needed to hear about this.
Five minutes of valiant struggling brought her no closer to freedom. However her irritated grunts and shuffling did attract the attention of something in the forest. As she stopped struggling to breathe, Aribeth heard something rusting in the trees to her left. At first she thought it was Sarir returning, but the sound of the footfalls was all wrong. Keen Elvan hearing told her that much, whatever it was, it was much smaller, and lighter.
She kept quiet and tried to shrink into the chimney as best as she could. If this was a passing Goblin or kobold and they saw her bound and helpless, they’d slit her throat without a second thought.
The rustling grew louder and more frequent. Aribeth fought the urge to close her eyes and tried to beat back the fear as she watched for the cause of the sounds. What ultimately stepped forth from the forest was, rather unexpectedly, a Dryad. She looked young, but the youthful features of her race probably concealed a century or two. Her hair was the colour of the nearby trees and stretched down to her waist, and she was barely dressed in a skimpy garment fashioned from moss and leaves. If Sarir were here he’d doubtlessly try to render her unconscious and have his way with her bare feet as well.
Dryads were mischievous and troublesome creatures normally, but they were far from evil. Odds were that if one saw someone in distress then they would help her. Deciding that this was her best hope for escape, Aribeth swallowed her pride and reluctantly shouted out:
“You there! Please, I need your help.”
The Dryad’s head shot up and for a second she looked so startled that Aribeth expected her to run back into the forest. Instead the newcomer simply stared at her for a few seconds, then she cautiously crept to the house and with minimal effort she scampered up the logs that formed the walls. Pulling herself up beside Aribeth, she stared at her face for several long minutes, doing little else except brushing loose strands of hair out of the captive elf’s face.
“Please,” She repeated, “untie me.”
“Who are you?” The Dryad replied, ignoring her request.
“I… My name is Aribeth. Who are you?”
“Iyvi.” Came the distracted reply as the Dryad started plucking at loose strands from the left sleeve of Aribeth’s tunic.
“Would you please untie me?” Aribeth asked again, trying very hard to sound patient.
“Why would you want me to untie you?” Iyvi asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
“Why?! So I can escape!” Aribeth said a little too loudly, making the Dryad flinch away slightly.
“Did Sarir bring you here?” She asked after a few more seconds of silence. Aribeth was shocked to learn that this forest sprite knew of Sarir, perhaps she had been tied to the chimney herself at one point after all.
“Yes.” Aribeth replied.
“Has he been tickling you?” She asked with a suppressed giggle. Aribeth could only stare at this creature in surprise. What was she up to? Was she in league with Sarir maybe?
“Yes.” She finally replied through gritted teeth.
Iyvi nodded and suddenly seemed much more relaxed. Outstretching her narrow legs down the length of the roof slightly, she rested her head on one arm, running her free hand repeatedly through Aribeth’s hair.
“He always tickles me when I come this way.” She said with a grin, “He does it to a lot of women.”
“So I gathered.” Aribeth muttered, quickly losing all hope that this foolish Dryad would be of any help.
“Some of them never seem to enjoy it though.” Iyvi said, sounding almost depressed.
“And you do?”
“Of course I do,” She replied, “It’s fun. Aren’t you having fun?”
Aribeth almost laughed at the implication.
“No,” she replied, “I’m really not. With that in mind could you please untie me?”
“I don’t understand why so many of you don’t have fun when you’re here.” Iyvi sat up and stared intently at Aribeth’s face for some answer. The displeased look she found however revealed few answers.
“I fail to see how you could enjoy it.” Aribeth said distantly, letting her thoughts slip out.
“It was a little strange at first.” Iyvi conceded, “But the more he tickled me, the better it felt. Maybe that’s it. Maybe you just need more time to get used to it.”
“I…”
“I’ll ask Sarir to keep you here an extra day or two when he gets back.” Iyvi replied happily, “I think you’ll grow to like it. Then maybe you can come back some day. You seem nicer than some of the other people who’ve been up here.”
Aribeth couldn’t believe what she was hearing. With the renewed energy that a sudden surge of panic provided, she tried once again to break free of the bonds.
“Until then,” Iyvi said, her hands snaking underneath the borrowed tunic to the helpless underarms within, “maybe I can help.”
“No!” Came the fearful reply, that was as far as she got before the well meaning Dryad started to tickle her underarms with spindly fingers.
“Iyviaaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha hah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” A somewhat irrational survival instinct kept Aribeth from squirming too much, for fear she’d fall off the roof, this of course only served to worsen the effect of the Dryad’s ministrations. “Pleeea he he he hese, staaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaap it!”
“No.” Came the matter-of-fact response.
Iyvi maintained her assault for minutes on end, occasionally switching to Aribeth’s hips and then back again, eliciting a startled yelp whenever she did so.
After ten or so minutes she withdrew her hands and stared at her face once again to check whether she was any happier. It was somewhat difficult to tell how she was feeling considering all the heavy breathing and her drooped head.
“Are you okay?” She asked with what sounded like genuine concern. Normally Aribeth would have felt keen to relieve the concerns of a fundamentally innocent creature such as this one, but considering all she’d been through recently she found it more then a little tempting to strangle her, once she was free of course.
“Aribeth?”
“I would really prefer it if you wouldn’t do that.”
“You’ll thank me in the end.”
“No. Look, why don’t you wait here for Sarir and let me leave? You said yourself that you enjoy this.”
Iyvi thought about it for a second, then shook her head.
“No, I think you should stay. I like you.”
With inhuman speed, the Dryad shuffled down the length of the roof, lifted Aribeth’s legs and placed them atop her own legs. Wrapping one arm around her new ‘friend’s’ ankles, she turned to face her and smiled mischievously.
“Iyvi, no! Please! Wait!”
Iyvi, of course, did no such thing.
“Aaaah! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Gods he he he heh heh he heh heh he he he he he he he he he hehhhlp meee he he he he he he he he he he he he he heh eheheh eheh heh he he he!”
Iyvi certainly knew what she was doing. Her fingers darted over Aribeth’s soles quicker then she could react to each new sensation. As she tried to use one foot to cover the sole that was being tickled, she would abruptly find her arches being assaulted, then the area underneath her toes and then back again. Aribeth could do nothing except sit back, laugh herself hoarse and hope that the Dryad got tired soon.
Back in the Beggar’s Nest
“I’ll ask you one last time, who sent you?” Asked the head of the Neverwinter thieves’ guild, she was a woman by the name of Calliara, her face was buried beneath a trademark’s thieves’ hood and her voice was anything but friendly.
Imoen could do little except tremble with fear. Ever since her less then pleasant encounters with Jon Irenicus back two years back where she’d had her very soul tortured out of her, the thought of being back in the clutches of someone like him filled her with dread.
This shouldn’t have happened. They should have been in, gotten the amulet and left before anyone knew it was gone. Instead they’d managed to take all of two steps inside before some keen eyed thief-mage saw through their invisibility spell and rendered them both unconscious via a wand of sleep.
Now she found herself tied to a chair in a darkened cellar with her legs outstretched before her. Her legs were outstretched before her and had been tied to Aerie’s, who had herself been tied in the same manner on a seat next to her Their ankles were tied to a stool which had been nailed to the floor.
Every worthwhile piece of magical gear they’d been carrying had been taken from them, even their boots were gone.
“A woman from the Blacklake district wanted us to get her amulet back for her.” Aerie said instantly, her voice betraying her own fear. There was no sense keeping secrets over something like this, maybe the thieves would be content just to take their stuff and throw them out the door.
“You expect me to believe that?” Calliara replied, “You two were carrying a lot of powerful magic items, more than a pair of simple errand runners would be carrying. I think someone sent you here to kill me, who was it?”
“She’s telling the truth!” Imoen all but shouted, “She said she’d pay us 10,000 gold if it was returned, we figured the price was right is all.”
“Enough. I can see I’m going to have to get the truth out of you the hard way.”
“Wait!” Aerie squeaked, “we’re not lying.”
“Darras!” Calliara yelled. Seconds later a skittish looking man, no older then twenty rushed down the nearby staircase.
“Yes mistress?” He said, bowing his head once.
“I leave these two in your hands. Find out what they’re doing here.” She paused and turned to look at Aerie, “Start with that one.”
“I understand mistress.” He seemed to collect himself at the sight of two bound and attractive women, and also at the realisation that he hadn’t in fact done something wrong which warranted a thrashing as was sometimes the case.
“Good, I’ll leave you to it.”
Calliara made her way back up the stairs with the fearful pleas of Aerie and Imoen following her as Darras made his way to them, extending a hand towards Aerie’s restrained feet.
To be continued.
Greetings once again. Thanks to any and all who read the first chapter and to Darth Vegeta for commenting. In answer to your request, well, this shall be a long and open story, and all things are possible.
Also for disclaimer’s sake, like Aribeth, the characters of Aerie and Imoen are the property of Bioware.
Tickling Tales of the Sword Coast.
Chapter 2: How not to make friends
Meanwhile, in the Beggar’s Nest…
“Do we really have to do this?” Aerie asked for what had to be the seventeenth time.
“Yeth.” Imoen replied as best she could with two lock picks between her teeth, and a third buried in the lock of a heavy wooden door.
“Why do we have to do this?” Aerie snapped back, her voice an angry whisper “come on Imoen, do you really think sneaking into the thieves’ guild to retrieve some lady’s broach is a good idea?”
“Nope.” Came the carefree response as Imoen plucked the two tools from her teeth, “but doing it for five thousand gold each is.”
“That money won’t be any good to us if we get caught. What do you think those… those people will do to us if they catch us in there? Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not really, I mean if a dozen angry thieves come at us then I can just push you at them and run.”
Aerie threw her pale arms to the sky in exasperation. She knew that Imoen was joking of course, but her strange sense of humour wasn’t all too funny when there was danger not too far away, especially when said danger seemed so pointless.
“Oh lighten up Aerie.” Imoen said with a smirk, “If things get bad then do you really think that we won’t be able to handle it? I mean come on, you’re always telling me you’re one of the ‘most powerful spell casters in all of Faerun.”
“I’m not always saying that!”
“Oh please, every day it’s Archmagi this and favoured of Baer’var that…”
“That’s not the point. Magic won’t help much if we don’t have time to cast, which we won’t if we step on a spike trap of get stabbed in the back.”
“Then let’s not do either of those things. Gods Aerie relax will ya? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”
“Yes, and we spent almost all the reward money paying for that bakery we destroyed.”
Imoen smiled, the truth was that it wasn’t so much almost all the money they’d spent so much as almost all of Aerie’s share.
“Baer’var can’t approve of this.”
A short ‘click’ told Imoen that the unassuming door on the disused brewery was now unlocked. About time too, if she had to listen to any more of Aerie’s whining then she was going to backstab her herself. Dear Gods, the woman could never just do something without going on about what the Gods might think or whether it was ‘right’ or not.
Still, at the end of the day they normally made a good team. That is to say between them they normally set entire city blocks alight with fireballs when a fight broke out and then made good their escape with the goods. Hopefully they’d do the same this time, only without the fire part.
Besides, rumour had it the organised thieves in Neverwinter were little more then pickpockets with a clubhouse. How hard could this be?
Meanwhile…
It was, if nothing else, nice to be outside. At least the air was still pleasant.
While she’d slept, if it could be called sleep, Sarir had taken Aribeth outside, carried her up a ladder to the roof and tied her securely to the chimney. Once again her arms had been tied over her head and fastened to a small hook on the side of the small wooden chimney that seemed to serve no purpose save for holding bound wrists in place. Her bare feet also remained held together with a length of rope around her ankles. They still itched from the brief tickling they’d been subjected to when her captor brought her up here.
Sarir himself had walked off into the woods to collect firewood or urinate on a tree, or perhaps just to see if she’d scream for help from atop his roof.
She grimaced at the image, but for some reason it didn’t seem likely. This Sarir was a villain, there was no question of that, though in spite of all he had done, he could have easily done far worse. In the half day she’d been his captive his hands had stayed away from any of her more private areas. He had given her food, water and even allowed her to stretch her legs for a short time. He had even given her a tunic, if not trousers or shoes, to guard against the cold.
But his questionable self-restraint wouldn’t spare him from Tyr’s justice. He still had to pay for his wrongdoings, and as soon as she was free of these accursed restraints she would subdue him and drag him back to Neverwinter. No one at the Hall of Justice needed to hear about this.
Five minutes of valiant struggling brought her no closer to freedom. However her irritated grunts and shuffling did attract the attention of something in the forest. As she stopped struggling to breathe, Aribeth heard something rusting in the trees to her left. At first she thought it was Sarir returning, but the sound of the footfalls was all wrong. Keen Elvan hearing told her that much, whatever it was, it was much smaller, and lighter.
She kept quiet and tried to shrink into the chimney as best as she could. If this was a passing Goblin or kobold and they saw her bound and helpless, they’d slit her throat without a second thought.
The rustling grew louder and more frequent. Aribeth fought the urge to close her eyes and tried to beat back the fear as she watched for the cause of the sounds. What ultimately stepped forth from the forest was, rather unexpectedly, a Dryad. She looked young, but the youthful features of her race probably concealed a century or two. Her hair was the colour of the nearby trees and stretched down to her waist, and she was barely dressed in a skimpy garment fashioned from moss and leaves. If Sarir were here he’d doubtlessly try to render her unconscious and have his way with her bare feet as well.
Dryads were mischievous and troublesome creatures normally, but they were far from evil. Odds were that if one saw someone in distress then they would help her. Deciding that this was her best hope for escape, Aribeth swallowed her pride and reluctantly shouted out:
“You there! Please, I need your help.”
The Dryad’s head shot up and for a second she looked so startled that Aribeth expected her to run back into the forest. Instead the newcomer simply stared at her for a few seconds, then she cautiously crept to the house and with minimal effort she scampered up the logs that formed the walls. Pulling herself up beside Aribeth, she stared at her face for several long minutes, doing little else except brushing loose strands of hair out of the captive elf’s face.
“Please,” She repeated, “untie me.”
“Who are you?” The Dryad replied, ignoring her request.
“I… My name is Aribeth. Who are you?”
“Iyvi.” Came the distracted reply as the Dryad started plucking at loose strands from the left sleeve of Aribeth’s tunic.
“Would you please untie me?” Aribeth asked again, trying very hard to sound patient.
“Why would you want me to untie you?” Iyvi asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
“Why?! So I can escape!” Aribeth said a little too loudly, making the Dryad flinch away slightly.
“Did Sarir bring you here?” She asked after a few more seconds of silence. Aribeth was shocked to learn that this forest sprite knew of Sarir, perhaps she had been tied to the chimney herself at one point after all.
“Yes.” Aribeth replied.
“Has he been tickling you?” She asked with a suppressed giggle. Aribeth could only stare at this creature in surprise. What was she up to? Was she in league with Sarir maybe?
“Yes.” She finally replied through gritted teeth.
Iyvi nodded and suddenly seemed much more relaxed. Outstretching her narrow legs down the length of the roof slightly, she rested her head on one arm, running her free hand repeatedly through Aribeth’s hair.
“He always tickles me when I come this way.” She said with a grin, “He does it to a lot of women.”
“So I gathered.” Aribeth muttered, quickly losing all hope that this foolish Dryad would be of any help.
“Some of them never seem to enjoy it though.” Iyvi said, sounding almost depressed.
“And you do?”
“Of course I do,” She replied, “It’s fun. Aren’t you having fun?”
Aribeth almost laughed at the implication.
“No,” she replied, “I’m really not. With that in mind could you please untie me?”
“I don’t understand why so many of you don’t have fun when you’re here.” Iyvi sat up and stared intently at Aribeth’s face for some answer. The displeased look she found however revealed few answers.
“I fail to see how you could enjoy it.” Aribeth said distantly, letting her thoughts slip out.
“It was a little strange at first.” Iyvi conceded, “But the more he tickled me, the better it felt. Maybe that’s it. Maybe you just need more time to get used to it.”
“I…”
“I’ll ask Sarir to keep you here an extra day or two when he gets back.” Iyvi replied happily, “I think you’ll grow to like it. Then maybe you can come back some day. You seem nicer than some of the other people who’ve been up here.”
Aribeth couldn’t believe what she was hearing. With the renewed energy that a sudden surge of panic provided, she tried once again to break free of the bonds.
“Until then,” Iyvi said, her hands snaking underneath the borrowed tunic to the helpless underarms within, “maybe I can help.”
“No!” Came the fearful reply, that was as far as she got before the well meaning Dryad started to tickle her underarms with spindly fingers.
“Iyviaaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha hah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!” A somewhat irrational survival instinct kept Aribeth from squirming too much, for fear she’d fall off the roof, this of course only served to worsen the effect of the Dryad’s ministrations. “Pleeea he he he hese, staaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaap it!”
“No.” Came the matter-of-fact response.
Iyvi maintained her assault for minutes on end, occasionally switching to Aribeth’s hips and then back again, eliciting a startled yelp whenever she did so.
After ten or so minutes she withdrew her hands and stared at her face once again to check whether she was any happier. It was somewhat difficult to tell how she was feeling considering all the heavy breathing and her drooped head.
“Are you okay?” She asked with what sounded like genuine concern. Normally Aribeth would have felt keen to relieve the concerns of a fundamentally innocent creature such as this one, but considering all she’d been through recently she found it more then a little tempting to strangle her, once she was free of course.
“Aribeth?”
“I would really prefer it if you wouldn’t do that.”
“You’ll thank me in the end.”
“No. Look, why don’t you wait here for Sarir and let me leave? You said yourself that you enjoy this.”
Iyvi thought about it for a second, then shook her head.
“No, I think you should stay. I like you.”
With inhuman speed, the Dryad shuffled down the length of the roof, lifted Aribeth’s legs and placed them atop her own legs. Wrapping one arm around her new ‘friend’s’ ankles, she turned to face her and smiled mischievously.
“Iyvi, no! Please! Wait!”
Iyvi, of course, did no such thing.
“Aaaah! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Gods he he he heh heh he heh heh he he he he he he he he he hehhhlp meee he he he he he he he he he he he he he heh eheheh eheh heh he he he!”
Iyvi certainly knew what she was doing. Her fingers darted over Aribeth’s soles quicker then she could react to each new sensation. As she tried to use one foot to cover the sole that was being tickled, she would abruptly find her arches being assaulted, then the area underneath her toes and then back again. Aribeth could do nothing except sit back, laugh herself hoarse and hope that the Dryad got tired soon.
Back in the Beggar’s Nest
“I’ll ask you one last time, who sent you?” Asked the head of the Neverwinter thieves’ guild, she was a woman by the name of Calliara, her face was buried beneath a trademark’s thieves’ hood and her voice was anything but friendly.
Imoen could do little except tremble with fear. Ever since her less then pleasant encounters with Jon Irenicus back two years back where she’d had her very soul tortured out of her, the thought of being back in the clutches of someone like him filled her with dread.
This shouldn’t have happened. They should have been in, gotten the amulet and left before anyone knew it was gone. Instead they’d managed to take all of two steps inside before some keen eyed thief-mage saw through their invisibility spell and rendered them both unconscious via a wand of sleep.
Now she found herself tied to a chair in a darkened cellar with her legs outstretched before her. Her legs were outstretched before her and had been tied to Aerie’s, who had herself been tied in the same manner on a seat next to her Their ankles were tied to a stool which had been nailed to the floor.
Every worthwhile piece of magical gear they’d been carrying had been taken from them, even their boots were gone.
“A woman from the Blacklake district wanted us to get her amulet back for her.” Aerie said instantly, her voice betraying her own fear. There was no sense keeping secrets over something like this, maybe the thieves would be content just to take their stuff and throw them out the door.
“You expect me to believe that?” Calliara replied, “You two were carrying a lot of powerful magic items, more than a pair of simple errand runners would be carrying. I think someone sent you here to kill me, who was it?”
“She’s telling the truth!” Imoen all but shouted, “She said she’d pay us 10,000 gold if it was returned, we figured the price was right is all.”
“Enough. I can see I’m going to have to get the truth out of you the hard way.”
“Wait!” Aerie squeaked, “we’re not lying.”
“Darras!” Calliara yelled. Seconds later a skittish looking man, no older then twenty rushed down the nearby staircase.
“Yes mistress?” He said, bowing his head once.
“I leave these two in your hands. Find out what they’re doing here.” She paused and turned to look at Aerie, “Start with that one.”
“I understand mistress.” He seemed to collect himself at the sight of two bound and attractive women, and also at the realisation that he hadn’t in fact done something wrong which warranted a thrashing as was sometimes the case.
“Good, I’ll leave you to it.”
Calliara made her way back up the stairs with the fearful pleas of Aerie and Imoen following her as Darras made his way to them, extending a hand towards Aerie’s restrained feet.
To be continued.
