Rithwraith
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Sorry for the wait. Originally I was going to continue with the Aribeth/ Imoen and Aerie storylines, but things are getting a little repetitive on that front, so while I try and sort it out I’ve answered one of the character requests, namely Sharwyn, the bard from Neverwinter Nights.
This story is set a little way into the first NWN game and does require a fair bit of knowledge of said game to understand a few bits, but overall I think the more fun bits are pretty straightforward.
I’ve tried to do something different to my standard theme of ‘captured and tortured’ for this chapter, but if anyone wants to see the tale of Sharwyn tied up and tickled to within an inch of her sanity then I’ll try to write it.
Thanks once again to all who have read and/or commented. Sorry again for my excessive whittling, To the story:
Chapter 4 – Questionable Muse
Night had fallen around Port Llast, bringing with it a ceaseless swarm of beastly hail stones which made sleep impossible for any luckless adventurers caught outside.
Valendel Steel, a once humble Ranger who was now finding himself referred to more and more often as the ‘Hero of Neverwinter’, was spared this unpleasant fate. He and his henchwoman Sharwyn had been fortunate enough to snare the last room at the Green Griffon inn on the road to Luskan. Their new quest to seek out those responsible for the outbreak of the Wailing Death in Neverwinter had run into what could be politely described as an unavoidable sidetrack. Specifically the promise of gold in the Griffon’s rumoured labyrinth of considerable riches and peril.
Who knew, sinister cultists might be hiding out in such a place, and if they should happen to best the maze and make a fair amount of money along the way then that was a burden they would just have to bear.
Sharwyn was pretty sure that Valendel actually believed cultists might be hiding out in said labyrinth, or maybe he was just indulging her in an attempt to score points. Either way, it sounded like fun.
The room itself was a dusty wooden loft with a sloping thatched roof not far overhead. The two beds looked as though they’d be more suited to Halflings rather than humans. Add to which the noisy pattering of the hail stones against the small window was likely to make for an irritating night.
If nothing else however, at least it was warm.
“Tell me ‘Hero of Neverwinter’,” Sharwyn said in mock indignation as she collapsed on the nearest bed and started to remove her knee high boots, “why do you never do as I suggest when it comes to hotel rooms. With a reputation like yours…” To which she silently added ‘which I did half the work to get’ “…You could have snagged the best room in the establishment, not this rustic rat trap.”
“I’d have been happy enough in a shallow cave or under a thick forest canopy. Just so long as it’s dry then it’s good enough for me.”
That’s where they’d spent the night before, dry it might have been but the bone chilling cold and endless whine of the wind made sleep all but impossible, for her at least. Valendel slept as easily as if he were in a warm bed. Whenever she’d suggested finding an inn he would quite literally shudder. The stereotypical fear of civilisation fit this guy like a tailored tunic. There had to have been better rooms than this on offer, but the noise and natural smells of this one were probably a safety blanket for the quiet ranger.
“You haven’t really got this ‘hero’ thing figured out yet have you?”
“I expect you’re right,” he replied, “though I’m not quite sure what you mean by that.”
Sharwyn had to resist the urge to shout at him. These servant-of-nature types were all alike; excessively polite, insufferably modest and more often than not as thick as two short planks. This was doubly true of males, and triply true of males dealing with a woman. Perhaps this was understandable though, it must be difficult to learn the finer points of social conventions from an oak tree, and the squirrel perspective on such things was probably more than a little different.
“My point is,” she said finally, “You’ve, I mean ‘we’ve’ performed a great and noble deed and we should reap the rewards of it. We can do better than this.”
“The deed’s not done yet; we’ve still got to track down the whereabouts of the cult.”
“Yes, but at times like this we should at least be able to indulge a bit. A large room, a hearty feast, that sort of thing.”
“If that’s what you want then don’t let me stand in your way.” He replied, his voice now sounding guilty, “Personally I just don’t care for such things.”
Sharwyn threw her arms to the ceiling and collapsed backward onto the mattress. This was hopeless. Even her own fanciful embellishments would be hard pressed to turn this man into the kind of heroic protagonist that the readers would want to see. He took absolutely no joy in praise or glory. Gods he’d even apologised to the Intellect Devourer after putting his sword through its head.
Sitting up, she pulled off one of her socks and carelessly threw it on the floor. Valendel stowed his bow and quiver neatly in the corner of the room and sat himself on the bed.
“I still can’t quite shake Aarin Gend’s words on the Neverwinter woods. I can’t think what could have happened to make the place so dangerous to…”
“Good Gods, be quiet.” Sharwyn muttered, ripping off her other sock and, with remarkably good aim, cramming it into Valendel’s mouth. He uttered a few muffled sounds threw it before spitting it onto the floor, Sharwyn was soon laughing unashamedly at this scene.
“Point taken.” He said, trying not to laugh himself.
“I think we’ve worried about cultists enough for one day,” she said, “leave such things for the morning.”
“You’re right.” He said, removing his cloak.
This was as good a chance as Sharwyn would get to try and prise something out of this stony ranger which she could later use in her next tale. She needed to get a conversation going; otherwise he’d probably go to sleep, even with a beautiful woman lying not three feet from him to occupy his attention. More and more she was beginning to think that chivalry was overrated.
With a small shrug she started running with the first idea which came to her.
“Ahhh, my feet are killing me,” she exagerated, reaching down to rub her right foot, “chasing that damn goblin from one side of the Northern fields to the other and back again was an utterly unpleasant experience.”
“He must have been wearing boots of speed or something.” Valendel said, “There’s no way the cowardly wretch could outrun us any other way.” He paused to consider something and then stood up and moved to his travelling bag.
“I might have just the thing…” He muttered vaguely, searching through his pack before pulling out a small jar containing some kind of oil.
“I have a friend who makes this stuff,” he continued, “it’s supposed to, err, well, it’ll help soothe any aches, if you’ll allow me.”
Sharwyn raised her eyebrows, normally Valendel averted his gaze if she so much as removed her hair band, and now he was offering to massage her feet. A surprising leap in boldness, but it was a step in the right direction. This ought to stop him going to sleep at least.
She laid back on the bed and crossed her arms behind her head. Valendel slipped underneath her raised legs and she lowered her heels gently onto his lap. He opened the bottle, poured some of the clear oil within onto his hand and then started to gently work it into Sharwyn’s right foot.
He had been waiting for an opportunity to do this ever since he’d first met Sharwyn in the Trade of Blades. Every so often she would remove her boots and dip her feet in a river or do something which allowed him to catch a glimpse. There seemed to be no opportunity to get anywhere further unfortunately. Until now, almost a month later, that providence had quite literally placed them in his lap. This in turn allowed him to address another item on his list of priorities.
As his fingers glided over Sharwyn’s bare sole, a brief giggle escaped her lips and instinctively she pulled the foot in Valendel’s hands away.
“Careful.” she said, still giggling slightly.
“My apologies.” He said insincerely, moving his hands to the foot that remained on his lap.
Hesitantly Sharwyn extended the leg she’d pulled back and closed her eyes, trying not to let on too much how good it actually felt, when it didn’t tickle that was.
Valendel’s fingers slid into the space between her toes on her left foot and again Sharwyn parted with a brief giggle. This time however he kept hold of her foot and stopped her from pulling it back.
“Hahaha! Stop! Wait a minuteehehehehehe.”
After a few seconds Valendel halted his ministrations. He kept a firm hand on Sharwyn’s ankle however. His face bore an expression of light hearted malice.
“Do you remember shortly before we left Neverwinter? At the Shining Serpent Tavern where you regaled the patrons with the tale of how we rescued that Dryad from the clutches of Meldanen?”
Sharwyn’s eyes went wide. She’d thought that Valendel had been asleep at the time. She was certain he hadn’t heard her… artistic interpretation of the Dryad’s gratitude. She doubted he’d be too happy for her to spread falsehoods about his following her back to the tree and… so on. It was all untrue but it made for a good story, and the patrons certainly approved.
“Erm, vaguely.” She muttered, trying once again to pry her foot away from his grasp, albeit to no avail.
“Vaguely? I thought such a successful piece of storytelling would be very memorable. It certainly was to me.” There was no trace of the overly polite, timid man that Sharwyn had been complaining about only minutes before. There was a kind of mischievousness about him now that seemed more befitting of Tomi Undergallows. This, she thought distantly, was a good sign. If he actually did have a fun side then she might finally find some material she could use, rather than having to invent stuff.
“I meant no offence,” she said truthfully, “besides, I had you spending a night with one of the fey folk. What man in Neverwinter won’t envy you?”
“That may be true,” Valendel said, shifting himself so that he could wrap one arm around Sharwyn’s leg, ending any hope she had for escape, “though it would have been nice to have been asked first before you started taking such liberties with my character. I do think an apology may be in order.”
Sharwyn smiled, she could see what was about to happen. Valendel couldn’t care less about an apology, he was simply taking the advice she’d been giving him since they met and was trying to have more fun in his life… with her feet, which was admittedly a little strange but in all honesty the ‘game’ seemed more fun than disturbing. As did he.
“I disagree,” she said defiantly, trying not to laugh before he even did anything, “personally I think you should thank me.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Valendel said with a grin, with no more warning than that he began to scrabble the fingers on his free hand over Sharwyn’s trapped foot, which instantly started flailing as best as his arm would allow.
“Eeeeaaaah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Waaaiha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hait!”
Her feet were certainly ticklish, but never normally as insanely so as they were now. What was in that oil he’d used?
There was, alas, no time for her to dwell on such things. Valendel’s assault was not letting up, and now he was tickling in the space around and between her toes. He had grasped her foot with the other hand to hold it still, which made the sensation even worse. She began to thrash manically on the bed and the noise was undoubtedly resounding throughout the entire establishment.
“Noooooo! Ha ha ha ha hah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Valendeee he he ha ha hal. Staaahaha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hap iiit!”
In desperation she tried kicking him with her free leg, but with a stunning display of speed and precision Valendel struck out his arm and snared both of her legs at once. He turned to smile deviously at Sharwyn, who looked more than a little nervous about this new development.
“Oh Gods!” She said fearfully, trying again to pull her legs free.
“Are you ready to apologise?” He asked.
“Definitely not.” She said as steadily as she could, re-crossing her arms back behind her head in defiance.
“As you wish.”
The sensation of having both feet tickled at once only served to increase the ferocity of Sharwyn’s thrashing, as well as the volume of her laughter. At one point she lunged forward in an attempt to prise Valendel’s arm off her ankles, but a brief tickle of one of her underarms quickly thwarted this plan and as she yelped in response to this new assault, Valendel pushed her back into the mattress and resumed his attack on her feet.
“Vaaaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha laa ha han del! Stop it! 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 hap! Pleeeeeeeeeee he he he he heeease!”
Over the delightful sound of Sharwyn’s laughter, Valendel distantly heard a knock at the door.
“Do you mind?!” Came an irate voice on the other side, “My wife and I do not need to be subjected to the sound of your immoral…”
On he went, but neither Valendel nor Sharwyn took a blind bit of notice. This interrupting prude was swiftly dealt with by way of a blow to the back of the head by another patron who was keen on listening to this lovely show through the wall.
After a number of minutes, Valendel stopped and gave Sharwyn a chance to breathe. For a few minutes it was all she could do to lay back, breathe heavily, peel strands of her long red hair off of her face and hope that Valendel didn’t start tickling her again… until she was ready that was.
Valendel was somewhat relieved to see that she was still smiling, rather than glaring at him with murderous eyes as he’d feared. The gamble had paid off, so far at least. He wasn’t finished yet, (he hoped).
“Anything you’d like to say to me?” He asked.
Her smiled switched to mirror his own mischievous grin and she shook her head.
“No,” she replied, “anything you want to say to me?”
“Plenty,” He said, “but it can wait.”
He took her feet in both hands and slowly began to move them towards his mouth. He made sure to do this slowly so that Sharwyn would have ample opportunity to let him know if he was about to cross a line, instead of the kick in the face that he expected however, all he received was an excited giggle. His pace increased somewhat after hearing it.
Releasing her right foot for the moment, Valendel placed one hand under the heel of her left, used the other to hold it secure, and gently kissed the tips of her toes a few times before dragging his tongue slowly up the length of her sole.
Sharwyn’s laughter was more sporadic, but certainly no less violent. Her foot twitched incessantly in the hands of her tormentor. Soon he begun to suck on her toes, starting with the smallest first. As soon as his tongue came into contact with them, the frequency of her laughter increased considerably, now however it was accompanied by the occasional contented murmur. The oil he’d used on her feet had definitely made them more sensitive, though now the effect was more pleasurable than it was torturous.
She brought her other foot up to his mouth and at the same time began to trace her other one down the length of Valendel’s chest to the bulge in the lower half of his leather armour.
To be Continued
(Not that I wouldn’t like to write much more to this chapter, nothing seems to work though. That said I think I’d like to do more with these two. I think I’ll put it to the vote again. If anyone would like me to continue this plotline two seconds after it concludes in this chapter, raise your left hand and say ‘aye’. If anyone thinks that such a thing might be overly smutty, gnarly or lacking in relevance (tickling would of course be included rest assured) then raise your right and say ‘nay’, in which case I’ll start some time later. If someone would like me to switch to another character for the next chapter raise both your hands and say ‘(Insert relevant character here)’)
I hope you enjoyed, sorry again for the wait, and thanks for reading.
This story is set a little way into the first NWN game and does require a fair bit of knowledge of said game to understand a few bits, but overall I think the more fun bits are pretty straightforward.
I’ve tried to do something different to my standard theme of ‘captured and tortured’ for this chapter, but if anyone wants to see the tale of Sharwyn tied up and tickled to within an inch of her sanity then I’ll try to write it.
Thanks once again to all who have read and/or commented. Sorry again for my excessive whittling, To the story:
Chapter 4 – Questionable Muse
Night had fallen around Port Llast, bringing with it a ceaseless swarm of beastly hail stones which made sleep impossible for any luckless adventurers caught outside.
Valendel Steel, a once humble Ranger who was now finding himself referred to more and more often as the ‘Hero of Neverwinter’, was spared this unpleasant fate. He and his henchwoman Sharwyn had been fortunate enough to snare the last room at the Green Griffon inn on the road to Luskan. Their new quest to seek out those responsible for the outbreak of the Wailing Death in Neverwinter had run into what could be politely described as an unavoidable sidetrack. Specifically the promise of gold in the Griffon’s rumoured labyrinth of considerable riches and peril.
Who knew, sinister cultists might be hiding out in such a place, and if they should happen to best the maze and make a fair amount of money along the way then that was a burden they would just have to bear.
Sharwyn was pretty sure that Valendel actually believed cultists might be hiding out in said labyrinth, or maybe he was just indulging her in an attempt to score points. Either way, it sounded like fun.
The room itself was a dusty wooden loft with a sloping thatched roof not far overhead. The two beds looked as though they’d be more suited to Halflings rather than humans. Add to which the noisy pattering of the hail stones against the small window was likely to make for an irritating night.
If nothing else however, at least it was warm.
“Tell me ‘Hero of Neverwinter’,” Sharwyn said in mock indignation as she collapsed on the nearest bed and started to remove her knee high boots, “why do you never do as I suggest when it comes to hotel rooms. With a reputation like yours…” To which she silently added ‘which I did half the work to get’ “…You could have snagged the best room in the establishment, not this rustic rat trap.”
“I’d have been happy enough in a shallow cave or under a thick forest canopy. Just so long as it’s dry then it’s good enough for me.”
That’s where they’d spent the night before, dry it might have been but the bone chilling cold and endless whine of the wind made sleep all but impossible, for her at least. Valendel slept as easily as if he were in a warm bed. Whenever she’d suggested finding an inn he would quite literally shudder. The stereotypical fear of civilisation fit this guy like a tailored tunic. There had to have been better rooms than this on offer, but the noise and natural smells of this one were probably a safety blanket for the quiet ranger.
“You haven’t really got this ‘hero’ thing figured out yet have you?”
“I expect you’re right,” he replied, “though I’m not quite sure what you mean by that.”
Sharwyn had to resist the urge to shout at him. These servant-of-nature types were all alike; excessively polite, insufferably modest and more often than not as thick as two short planks. This was doubly true of males, and triply true of males dealing with a woman. Perhaps this was understandable though, it must be difficult to learn the finer points of social conventions from an oak tree, and the squirrel perspective on such things was probably more than a little different.
“My point is,” she said finally, “You’ve, I mean ‘we’ve’ performed a great and noble deed and we should reap the rewards of it. We can do better than this.”
“The deed’s not done yet; we’ve still got to track down the whereabouts of the cult.”
“Yes, but at times like this we should at least be able to indulge a bit. A large room, a hearty feast, that sort of thing.”
“If that’s what you want then don’t let me stand in your way.” He replied, his voice now sounding guilty, “Personally I just don’t care for such things.”
Sharwyn threw her arms to the ceiling and collapsed backward onto the mattress. This was hopeless. Even her own fanciful embellishments would be hard pressed to turn this man into the kind of heroic protagonist that the readers would want to see. He took absolutely no joy in praise or glory. Gods he’d even apologised to the Intellect Devourer after putting his sword through its head.
Sitting up, she pulled off one of her socks and carelessly threw it on the floor. Valendel stowed his bow and quiver neatly in the corner of the room and sat himself on the bed.
“I still can’t quite shake Aarin Gend’s words on the Neverwinter woods. I can’t think what could have happened to make the place so dangerous to…”
“Good Gods, be quiet.” Sharwyn muttered, ripping off her other sock and, with remarkably good aim, cramming it into Valendel’s mouth. He uttered a few muffled sounds threw it before spitting it onto the floor, Sharwyn was soon laughing unashamedly at this scene.
“Point taken.” He said, trying not to laugh himself.
“I think we’ve worried about cultists enough for one day,” she said, “leave such things for the morning.”
“You’re right.” He said, removing his cloak.
This was as good a chance as Sharwyn would get to try and prise something out of this stony ranger which she could later use in her next tale. She needed to get a conversation going; otherwise he’d probably go to sleep, even with a beautiful woman lying not three feet from him to occupy his attention. More and more she was beginning to think that chivalry was overrated.
With a small shrug she started running with the first idea which came to her.
“Ahhh, my feet are killing me,” she exagerated, reaching down to rub her right foot, “chasing that damn goblin from one side of the Northern fields to the other and back again was an utterly unpleasant experience.”
“He must have been wearing boots of speed or something.” Valendel said, “There’s no way the cowardly wretch could outrun us any other way.” He paused to consider something and then stood up and moved to his travelling bag.
“I might have just the thing…” He muttered vaguely, searching through his pack before pulling out a small jar containing some kind of oil.
“I have a friend who makes this stuff,” he continued, “it’s supposed to, err, well, it’ll help soothe any aches, if you’ll allow me.”
Sharwyn raised her eyebrows, normally Valendel averted his gaze if she so much as removed her hair band, and now he was offering to massage her feet. A surprising leap in boldness, but it was a step in the right direction. This ought to stop him going to sleep at least.
She laid back on the bed and crossed her arms behind her head. Valendel slipped underneath her raised legs and she lowered her heels gently onto his lap. He opened the bottle, poured some of the clear oil within onto his hand and then started to gently work it into Sharwyn’s right foot.
He had been waiting for an opportunity to do this ever since he’d first met Sharwyn in the Trade of Blades. Every so often she would remove her boots and dip her feet in a river or do something which allowed him to catch a glimpse. There seemed to be no opportunity to get anywhere further unfortunately. Until now, almost a month later, that providence had quite literally placed them in his lap. This in turn allowed him to address another item on his list of priorities.
As his fingers glided over Sharwyn’s bare sole, a brief giggle escaped her lips and instinctively she pulled the foot in Valendel’s hands away.
“Careful.” she said, still giggling slightly.
“My apologies.” He said insincerely, moving his hands to the foot that remained on his lap.
Hesitantly Sharwyn extended the leg she’d pulled back and closed her eyes, trying not to let on too much how good it actually felt, when it didn’t tickle that was.
Valendel’s fingers slid into the space between her toes on her left foot and again Sharwyn parted with a brief giggle. This time however he kept hold of her foot and stopped her from pulling it back.
“Hahaha! Stop! Wait a minuteehehehehehe.”
After a few seconds Valendel halted his ministrations. He kept a firm hand on Sharwyn’s ankle however. His face bore an expression of light hearted malice.
“Do you remember shortly before we left Neverwinter? At the Shining Serpent Tavern where you regaled the patrons with the tale of how we rescued that Dryad from the clutches of Meldanen?”
Sharwyn’s eyes went wide. She’d thought that Valendel had been asleep at the time. She was certain he hadn’t heard her… artistic interpretation of the Dryad’s gratitude. She doubted he’d be too happy for her to spread falsehoods about his following her back to the tree and… so on. It was all untrue but it made for a good story, and the patrons certainly approved.
“Erm, vaguely.” She muttered, trying once again to pry her foot away from his grasp, albeit to no avail.
“Vaguely? I thought such a successful piece of storytelling would be very memorable. It certainly was to me.” There was no trace of the overly polite, timid man that Sharwyn had been complaining about only minutes before. There was a kind of mischievousness about him now that seemed more befitting of Tomi Undergallows. This, she thought distantly, was a good sign. If he actually did have a fun side then she might finally find some material she could use, rather than having to invent stuff.
“I meant no offence,” she said truthfully, “besides, I had you spending a night with one of the fey folk. What man in Neverwinter won’t envy you?”
“That may be true,” Valendel said, shifting himself so that he could wrap one arm around Sharwyn’s leg, ending any hope she had for escape, “though it would have been nice to have been asked first before you started taking such liberties with my character. I do think an apology may be in order.”
Sharwyn smiled, she could see what was about to happen. Valendel couldn’t care less about an apology, he was simply taking the advice she’d been giving him since they met and was trying to have more fun in his life… with her feet, which was admittedly a little strange but in all honesty the ‘game’ seemed more fun than disturbing. As did he.
“I disagree,” she said defiantly, trying not to laugh before he even did anything, “personally I think you should thank me.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Valendel said with a grin, with no more warning than that he began to scrabble the fingers on his free hand over Sharwyn’s trapped foot, which instantly started flailing as best as his arm would allow.
“Eeeeaaaah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Waaaiha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hait!”
Her feet were certainly ticklish, but never normally as insanely so as they were now. What was in that oil he’d used?
There was, alas, no time for her to dwell on such things. Valendel’s assault was not letting up, and now he was tickling in the space around and between her toes. He had grasped her foot with the other hand to hold it still, which made the sensation even worse. She began to thrash manically on the bed and the noise was undoubtedly resounding throughout the entire establishment.
“Noooooo! Ha ha ha ha hah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Valendeee he he ha ha hal. Staaahaha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hap iiit!”
In desperation she tried kicking him with her free leg, but with a stunning display of speed and precision Valendel struck out his arm and snared both of her legs at once. He turned to smile deviously at Sharwyn, who looked more than a little nervous about this new development.
“Oh Gods!” She said fearfully, trying again to pull her legs free.
“Are you ready to apologise?” He asked.
“Definitely not.” She said as steadily as she could, re-crossing her arms back behind her head in defiance.
“As you wish.”
The sensation of having both feet tickled at once only served to increase the ferocity of Sharwyn’s thrashing, as well as the volume of her laughter. At one point she lunged forward in an attempt to prise Valendel’s arm off her ankles, but a brief tickle of one of her underarms quickly thwarted this plan and as she yelped in response to this new assault, Valendel pushed her back into the mattress and resumed his attack on her feet.
“Vaaaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha laa ha han del! Stop it! 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 hap! Pleeeeeeeeeee he he he he heeease!”
Over the delightful sound of Sharwyn’s laughter, Valendel distantly heard a knock at the door.
“Do you mind?!” Came an irate voice on the other side, “My wife and I do not need to be subjected to the sound of your immoral…”
On he went, but neither Valendel nor Sharwyn took a blind bit of notice. This interrupting prude was swiftly dealt with by way of a blow to the back of the head by another patron who was keen on listening to this lovely show through the wall.
After a number of minutes, Valendel stopped and gave Sharwyn a chance to breathe. For a few minutes it was all she could do to lay back, breathe heavily, peel strands of her long red hair off of her face and hope that Valendel didn’t start tickling her again… until she was ready that was.
Valendel was somewhat relieved to see that she was still smiling, rather than glaring at him with murderous eyes as he’d feared. The gamble had paid off, so far at least. He wasn’t finished yet, (he hoped).
“Anything you’d like to say to me?” He asked.
Her smiled switched to mirror his own mischievous grin and she shook her head.
“No,” she replied, “anything you want to say to me?”
“Plenty,” He said, “but it can wait.”
He took her feet in both hands and slowly began to move them towards his mouth. He made sure to do this slowly so that Sharwyn would have ample opportunity to let him know if he was about to cross a line, instead of the kick in the face that he expected however, all he received was an excited giggle. His pace increased somewhat after hearing it.
Releasing her right foot for the moment, Valendel placed one hand under the heel of her left, used the other to hold it secure, and gently kissed the tips of her toes a few times before dragging his tongue slowly up the length of her sole.
Sharwyn’s laughter was more sporadic, but certainly no less violent. Her foot twitched incessantly in the hands of her tormentor. Soon he begun to suck on her toes, starting with the smallest first. As soon as his tongue came into contact with them, the frequency of her laughter increased considerably, now however it was accompanied by the occasional contented murmur. The oil he’d used on her feet had definitely made them more sensitive, though now the effect was more pleasurable than it was torturous.
She brought her other foot up to his mouth and at the same time began to trace her other one down the length of Valendel’s chest to the bulge in the lower half of his leather armour.
To be Continued
(Not that I wouldn’t like to write much more to this chapter, nothing seems to work though. That said I think I’d like to do more with these two. I think I’ll put it to the vote again. If anyone would like me to continue this plotline two seconds after it concludes in this chapter, raise your left hand and say ‘aye’. If anyone thinks that such a thing might be overly smutty, gnarly or lacking in relevance (tickling would of course be included rest assured) then raise your right and say ‘nay’, in which case I’ll start some time later. If someone would like me to switch to another character for the next chapter raise both your hands and say ‘(Insert relevant character here)’)
I hope you enjoyed, sorry again for the wait, and thanks for reading.
