Hello all! I wanted to try my hand at writing a serial in a new fantasy world. I have the plot planned out for those interested in continuity, and would be happy to continue it if people find it entertaining. I hope you enjoy it!
City of Sororities - Chapter 1
Sonia leapt gracefully between the rooftops, her lithe body casting long, pale shadows from the full moon overhead. She could feel the cool night air on her face, an exhilarating sensation that made her heart beat faster. Running with quick, catlike steps across another rooftop, the bracing air was not the only thing that quickened her pulse. She was, after all, in forbidden territory, and furthermore she was there as a thief. But she was no common thief, she told herself with pride. She was a member of the Sorority of Thieves. She was the best.
Beneath her lay the city of Port Bastion, the largest and greatest city on the Continent, spread out in all directions as a great monument of civilization’s achievements. From here Sonia could see the flickering gaslights illuminating the richer neighborhoods of the city, one of the many technological advancements that could be found nowhere else on the Continent. But here, at the edge of the city, there were no such luxuries. The streets were rough cobblestone and the buildings were plain wood and brick. This was not commonly used territory, after all. This seldom-visited area held mostly warehouses, and was used mostly by the Sorority of Explorers. It was dangerous turf for a member of a rival Sorority to be caught in.
Sonia paused a moment, perched on the edge of a rooftop overlooking her destination. In the shadows, she was nearly invisible: the sleek black catsuit she wore blended in perfectly. She had made the catsuit herself, tailored from an unknown fabric originally found by the Explorers in one of the ruins in the barbarian lands. She did not know what it was, only that it deflected light and was very thin yet strong enough to stop a knife blade. The skin-tight suit was molded to her curves, hugging her thin waist and shapely hips and down her long legs to her ankles. The hardest part had been fitting it to her chest. Sonia had embarrassingly large breasts for a thief: large melon-sized globes that bounced when she walked. She had ended up incorporating some cutting-edge modern technology and inserting thin wire underneath them to support her breasts. That didn’t entirely stop them from moving, but it did give her acrobatic freedom. Wearing her black catsuit with flexible black boots, she wore a matching strip of cloth covering her mouth to obscure her features. With her jet-black hair tied back in a ponytail, she was a ghost.
Her invisibility served her well, for Sonia immediately saw that someone had beaten her to the prize. This occasionally happened as a result of internal competition inside the Sorority of Thieves, but a quick glance confirmed that her competitors were not, this time, her fellow sisters. They wore black hooded robes with long black gloves, and wore silver masks over their faces carved with two narrow eyeholes and a grotesque smile. There were two of them on the rooftop of Sonia’s target building, and they were not alone. Sitting on the roof beside them, gagged and bound in ropes from head to toe, was another girl whose boots had been removed and placed aside. She was currently being foot-tickled to within an inch of her life by the two masked strangers.
Sonia could tell the girl was a member of the Sorority of Explorers, judging from her stylized chainmail bikini which was a sort of unofficial uniform for their sisters. She howled into her gag as the two strangers feathered her feet, producing a muffled, echoing cry that Sonia had originally taken for the cry of a nighttime bird. The strangers knew how to use their feathers, stroking her long arches and sliding them between her wildly splaying toes. Sonia could see the effect they were having: tears glistened down the girl’s cheeks in the moonlight, and every exposed inch of her muscular body shone with sweat. The look on her face was one of unmistakable ticklish agony, with her eyes pleading for mercy.
But the masked strangers were not inclined to be merciful. Sonia could recognize a masterful tickle torturer when she saw one, and these strangers had all the hallmarks. They searched for the spots on the soles that produced the loudest and most desperate screams, and they guided their feathers to these magic spots like a hawk diving for its prey. The Explorer girl had a particularly sensitive spot on her instep, and feathering both feet there caused her to arch her back and howl into her gag for seconds on end. It was sadistically amusing to note that, for all her wilderness experience, this girl was still a tenderfoot.
“MMMMMMMMPPPHHHHH!!! MMMMMPPHHHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!!!” howled the girl through her gag. Her pale soles, gently illuminated by the moonlight, glowed red as the soft plumes flicked across the tender surfaces. Sonia crept forward for a better view.
Sonia watched from the shadows, transfixed but concerned. These torturers did not belong to her own Sorority, and they did not fit the profile of any other Sorority in the city. This meant they were probably free agents, but if they were here for the same quarry as Sonia they were definitely not small-time. If, like Sonia, they had come following the rumor that a genuine magical artifact was stored here, they were very dangerous.
The Sorority Council, the governing body of Port Bastion and the closest thing to a Continental government, had voted unanimously in favor of outlawing the practice of magic in Port Bastion. Each of the five Council representatives had their own reasons. The Sorority of Builders and Artisans stated that magic was potentially destructive and that one wizard could cause immense property damage. The Sorority of City Guards claimed that it would lead to crime with impunity. The Sorority of Explorers explained how demand for magic would cause all sort of amateurs to take up adventuring. The Sorority of Sages was more concerned with study than practice, and it was much easier to study something that wasn’t being practiced. The Sorority of Thieves simply voted “yes” on the proposition without explanation. No one ever listened to their explanations anyway: after all, they were thieves. Everyone resented their presence on the Council, but with all their influence it would have been impossible to exclude them.
But her questions were about to be answered: Sonia saw the two strangers stop their feathering torture at last, and one of them undid the gag on the girl’s mouth. She gasped weakly for breath and looked up at her two captors in undisguised terror.
“Please!” she pleaded hoarsely. “I’m telling the truth! The idol was the only piece we had! Please don’t tickle my feet!”
The two masked strangers looked at each other, weighing this testimony. “She may be lying,” said one of them. Sonia could not even tell the gender of the speaker: the voice was low and metallic from beneath the mask. It was alien, and yet inexplicably seductive.
“Unlikely,” said the other stranger in an identical voice. “You saw her reactions. This is probably it. The rest of their acquisitions are of no concern to us.”
Sonia stood ready to pounce. If she could ambush these two mysterious thieves, she might stand to gain some answers. She scanned her surroundings quickly with a roving eye to take stock of their position. But when she looked back, they were gone. There was no action on their part, no hand motion indicating a smoke bomb had been thrown. One moment they had been there, and now they were not.
Sonia scanned the streets for any way they may have escaped, but everything was still: there was no trace of the strangers. Whoever they were, they were expertly trained in the art of stealth. Sonia paused for a moment, and leapt down to the rooftop where now only the Explorer girl sat, tugging at her ropes.
“Please, help me!” cried the girl when she saw Sonia. “I don’t know who you are, but I need to get free! I beg you!”
Sonia considered the girl sitting bound and barefoot in front of her. Her decision came quickly. Sonia picked up the discarded gag and placed it back into the struggling girl’s mouth, tying it into place.
“All things in time,” said Sonia. “But first, I am in need of some answers.” She reached into a hidden pocket of her suit and produced a vital tool of the trade: a jet-black fluffy feather. The gagged girl’s eyes flew open in renewed terror.
For the next hour, the few people still awake in that quarter of the city noted that the nighttime birds were especially loud that night.
* * * * *
Camilla sat beside the other three pledges that she had spent the day with. The chance to rush the Sorority of City Guards came only once a year, and all of them were determined to make it. They had begun the day with forty pledges who had passed the basic testing. Eighteen had dropped out during the endurance run around the city walls. Five more had failed to balance a stack of ten Port Bastion Law Books on their backs while shining the boots of the senior sisters. Ten after that had failed to scale the city walls with weighted backpacks. Finally, the pledges had their pants removed and were paddled by the pledge mistress: three had failed to remain silent through the ordeal. Now, the four remaining pledges including Camilla were sitting in the basement of the Guards’ House with their tops removed. Their ankles, heads, and wrists were in padded stocks that kept them completely immobile. One by one, the pledge mistress walked by them and untied their boots, removing them and plucking off their socks.
“I congratulate you on reaching the final test,” said the pledge mistress, walking back and forth in front of the four pledges. “As you no doubt know, the Sorority of City Guards has many secrets which we are honor-bound to protect. It may fall upon any of our sisters to be captured by a rival sorority. Should this occur, we must know that you are impervious to certain…interrogation techniques.”
Camilla felt a knot in her stomach as eight sorority sisters entered the room. This was the only rest she had truly been afraid of. With her slender but muscular body built up from running and swimming, Camilla been able to easily endure the physical trials the pledges were put through. Her girlish and feminine appearance, however, often fooled people into overlooking her physical prowess. With a long head of auburn hair, a button nose, lightly freckled cheeks, and a very large pair of breasts with nipples that stubbornly made themselves visible through any and all fabrics, she made an extremely comely figure by any standard. She was the sort who typically inspired very colorful double-entendres in taverns, and only her ingrained respect for the law prevented her from knocking out the offenders. After all, the sort of upstanding citizen who wanted to be a City Guard didn’t go around starting tavern brawls, however justified.
But now with her bare feet in stocks, there was nothing deceptive about how soft and vulnerable her feet looked. She noticed she was the only pledge who had painted toenails.
“My favorite time of year,” smiled one of the sisters, looking directly at Camilla’s bare feet. Camilla felt a chill go down her spine.
“Now, pledges,” continued the pledge mistress as the eight sisters lines up in front of the eight trapped bare feet, “This will be a timed test. At any time, you ladies may forfeit by speaking the word, ‘mercy’. When we decide enough time has elapsed, any remaining pledges will be welcomed into the Sorority of City Guards.”
Camilla gulped as she looked at the eight sisters licking their lips. All of them had long fingernails, carefully manicured to sharp points. “Now, ladies,” said the pledge mistress. “On my mark. Ten…nine…eight…”
Suddenly, all eight sisters jumped into action, tickling the pledges’ bare feet with their sharp nails. Caught by surprise, all four pledges immediately burst into wild laughter. Camilla had no chance to resist: she howled as her ticklish feet fell under attack, with twenty fingers poking, prodding, and scratching her soft pink soles.
“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAPPPP!!” cried Camilla, barely managing to avoid the safeword. These girls were out for the kill: they searched out her tender spots and drilled into them, driving Camilla insane. Tears flowed down her wrists and her trapped hands slapped helplessly against the wood of the stocks as she struggled to escape.
“Koochie-koochie-koo! Beg for mercy, little girl!” cooed one of Camilla’s torturers as she tickled an unbearably soft spot on Camilla’s arches.
“We’re going to make you pee your panties, pledge!” taunted the other sister, running her long talon-like nails in quick staccato strokes all the way down her soles.
Camilla was crying too hard to see, but next to her she heard a fellow pledge cry out the word, “Mercy!”. Now there were only three left. Camilla couldn’t give up now, but the foot-tickling was pure torture. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to end it.
Camilla heard the pledge mistress’ voice through the wild echoing laughter. “Now, ladies,” she said, “it’s time to really see what you’re made of!”
Before Camilla had a chance to wonder what this meant, she felt a pair of hands with long fingernails grab her ribs from behind! With only her bra on for protection, Camilla had nothing to protect her sensitive skin from this surprise tickling attack. Her screams of laughter became even louder as the mystery hands squeezed her sides, walked up her ribs, and plunged into her exposed underarms to tickle the tender hollows.
“NOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!! NOT THE RIBS!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” cried a voice next to her, and Camilla was dimly aware that the other pledges must be subject to this diabolical surprise as well.
But she had no time to feel sorry for them. The fingertips wriggling in her ticklish underarms were driving her insane, and her poor feet were being abused beyond her worst nightmares. She tried to be strong and to think of how much pledging meant to her, but all she could think of was how ticklish she was.
“Say it, pledge!” taunted one of the sisters working over her soles. “These ticklish little feet don’t stand a chance!”
All together, three pairs of hands were having their way with Camilla’s ticklish body. She had never experienced tickle torture like this before, but she was sure that she would die laughing. She heard the voices of the sisters teasing her as they drove her to insanity. Camilla knew she couldn’t take another moment of it. Her mind tried to resist, but her ticklish body could take no more.
“MERCY!!! MERCEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEE!!!” screamed Camilla. Suddenly, the tickling stopped. After a moment of the greatest relief she had ever felt in her life, Camilla slowly realized that she was not going to be a sister this year.
* * * * *
Camilla walked dejectedly through the streets of Port Bastion, dragging her feet as she reflected on her failure. She had trained to join the Sorority of City Guards for months, and now she would have to wait an entire year to try again. Of course, there was still time to rush the Sorority of Explorers: they were always looking for girls in good shape like Camilla. But that would mean spending weeks in the wilderness searching through ruins in the farthest reaches of the Continent: a good life for some, but Camilla needed civilization. Then there were always those people who would tell her that she was better off not becoming one of the so-called sorority bitches at all. But Camilla wanted to become a Guard sister more than anything. Sorority sisters got all the respect in Port Bastion, the City Guards most of all. She would always remember sitting at the tavern where the City Guard sisters would be the center of attention, the girls everyone wanted to buy a drink for. And she had come so close to being one of them.
As her mood darkened, Camilla found herself walking down darker and more deserted streets, away from the market places and into the shadowy side-streets of Port Bastion. As she followed this subconscious path, it was hardly surprising that when she looked up, she found herself facing the darkest and most imposing building in the entire city: the Thieves’ House, home of the Sorority of Thieves. It loomed ominously above her: a dusty black building of tall towers and long, dark halls that was cast entirely in shadows. Affixed above the gates was the Sorority seal: a gilt engraving of a hand reaching into a pouch, encircled by the ancient and venerable motto of the Sorority: “Si is est non cautus”, which roughly translated as, “If it’s not nailed down…”
As a prospective for the Sorority of City Guards, Camilla felt a natural aversion to the Sorority of Thieves. The Guard and the Thief sisters had a fierce rivalry that went back to the creation of the two Sororities. It was no surprise since their jobs were directly opposed to each other. The Guards made a special effort to harass Thief Sisters in any way they could. One time they had confiscated the shirts and pants of a dozen Thief sisters in a crowded marketplace for “textile import code violations”. On the other hand, the Sorority of Thieves didn’t hesitate from engaging in one-upsmanship whenever they could. Most recently, the Thieves had broken into the Guards’ House and conducted a thorough panty raid. Since the Guard sisters all wore uniforms, their panties bore their Sorority seal and were coveted trophies for lawbreakers throughout the city. For a week afterward, the Sorority of Thieves ran a pair up their flagpole each morning.
Camilla was normally not given to shifty behavior. She was one of those people who, if you were to hit her in the middle of the street, would reflexively look around for a policeman before the instinct to hit back kicked in a split second later. But today a different side of her emerged. It may have been the sting of rejection, or the burning to prove herself, or the open window of the Thieves’ House which suddenly seemed like a sign from the gods. But Camilla had made up her mind. She was going to break into the house of the Sorority of Thieves, the great rivals of the City Guards, and steal from them to prove her dedication to the City Guards.
It was very straightforward in her mind as she looked around to see if anyone was watching her. There would doubtless be something inside worth taking, and she would know it when she found it. Something with their seal on it, perhaps. And when she returned victorious with this trophy, the City Guards just had to give her a second chance. Maybe she would even be accepted! She could see it all planned out in her head as she leapt in through the open window without hesitation. Her boots hit the ground on the other side and she felt a rush of adrenaline. She was in!
The room she found herself in could only be described as respectable. In fact, it had been designed by someone who had gone to considerable lengths to make it look respectable. It was an old-fashioned parlor, with patterned throw rugs on the ground, several tasteful porcelain vases on tables, and carefully spaced portraits of austere persons who were undoubtedly someone’s ancestors and probably gave a lot of money to various high-profile causes. The room was lit by a crackling fire in the fireplace, in front of which were two purple velvet chairs complete with ottomans. A small bookshelf in the corner held a collection of color-coordinated books arranged to match the drapes. Not a single thing was out of place, as is generally the case in rooms that are seen and not used. It was the sort of room that might be owned by the sort of person who describes themselves as a “legitimate businessman” who provides “valuable services to the community”, and if pressed on the nature of these services, well, we don’t really need to talk business right now, because he has this excellent bottle of ruby port you simply have to try…
But the difficulty with stealing on principle is that you have to find something personal to steal, and in a room so carefully calculated to be impersonal there was not much that fit the bill. Camilla felt sure that there had to be a trophy room or something like it nearby, if only she could find it.
Unfortunately, she never had the chance. Camilla heard a thin whisper behind her, and the faintest shadow of a footstep. Before her mind had time to register anything else, a lasso was thrown at her from behind, and suddenly Camilla found her arms tied to her sides by a thin length of black rope.
No, thought Camilla. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not to me. I’ve never broken the law before in my life.
They had to have been waiting for her, she thought. She knew that open window was too good to be true. They were probably hoping to catch a rival sorority member, and now, and now…her mind didn’t want to finish that sentence.
The rope holding her midsection was thrown over a chandelier, and Camilla was raised a foot above the floor. She kicked reflexively, but her assailants had been expecting that, too. As soon as her legs moved, two more lassos caught around her ankles and pulled them in opposite directions, holding Camilla in a Y-shaped position with her legs spread. She was trapped.
From the darkness, two women stepped forwards wearing black robes with hoods pulled over their eyes to obscure their features. They smiled at each other as they approached Camilla, contemplating their prey. To Camilla’s horror, one of them drew a gleaming knife from the folds of her robe and held it purposefully.
“Please! This isn’t what it looks like!” insisted Camilla. Unfortunately, her train of thought ended there. What else could it be, she thought with despair?
The glinting tip of the knife was drawn to her chest, and in quick stroke it ran down her chest. Camilla shut her eyes and braced herself for the pain, but it never came. Just as she opened her eyes in confusion, she saw a long gash down the front of her shirt, and it split open like a vest. Just as quickly, the knife made more slashes with surgical precision, and in seconds her clothing was in shreds on the ground. Camilla blushed in shame as she was left wearing only a skimpy pair of lacy black panties.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Camilla demanded, but it didn’t even sound tough to herself.
Neither of the hooded women said anything. Their silence was pregnant.
“What are you going to do to me?” asked Camilla with indignation.
The hooded woman nearest to her still said nothing, but she and her sister reached into a fold of their cloak. Without a word they each produced a soft, fluffy feather. Camilla’s muscles turned to jelly.
“P—please!” begged Camilla, memories of her initiation still fresh in her mind. “Not that! Anything but that!”
Camilla had to bite her lip as the feathers gently brushed over her bare breasts. Immediately her nipples went hard and she arched her back with a silent gasp. Camilla strained at the ropes as the feather tips teased her large, round areolas. Her lip trembled, and the feathers caressing the undersides of her breasts caused giggles to escape. The giggles turned to full laughter as the feathers moved to her sensitive tummy, but they knew that there was even more ticklish flesh to exploit. With smiles on their shadowy faces, Camilla’s torturers moved their feathers down to tickle her inner thighs.
The soft, milky flesh of Camilla’s inner thighs was one of the most sensitive spots on her entire body. Immediately every muscle in her body went rigid, and the first feathery touch made her shriek out loud. Her resistance was shattered, and she screamed with laughter at the achingly soft strokes.
“EEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!! NOT THEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERRRE!!!” Camilla begged. She tried desperately to close her legs but her bondage kept them spread and vulnerable. The teasing feathers stroked her silky thighs and circled around her legs, tickling beneath the curves of her ass left exposed by her tiny panties. Being feathered on this virgin flesh was unbearable torture, but the teasing was even more maddening. Camilla could feel the heat building between her legs but she was helpless to do anything.
With her soft thighs on fire from the diabolical feathering, one of her torturers moved her attention back to Camilla’s bare breasts, caressing her rock-hard nipples with masterful skill. The shadowy women remained silent with cruel smiles, watching as Camilla laughed herself into a lustful frenzy. The tears running down her cheeks glistened in the dim light, and her panties were dripping wet with her juices. The sensual torture wracked every inch of her body, and the only thing she could think about was release.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEASE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! LET ME CUM!!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!” screamed Camilla to her silent tormentors. The swelling between her legs was almost too much to bear: the manipulation of her bouncing breasts, her soft thighs, and her shapely ass was destroying her. She prayed that one of the women would lift aside her panties and slide a feather inside: even the softest touch would make her explode. But they cruelly kept her on the brink of orgasm, denying her release while teasing her within an inch of her life.
“Are you ready, sister?” asked one of Camilla’s torturers, breaking her silence at last.
“Ready,” said the other in a sultry whisper.
Together, the two of them cast aside their feathers and sunk their fingernails into Camilla’s ticklish flesh. The result was devastating. With all her strength already gone, Camilla sobbed with helpless laughter as the fingernails dug into her soft skin. One pair of hands fondled her breasts, tickling the bouncing globes while squeezing her ribs. The other hands attacked the soft fold of flesh where her thighs met her ass: Camilla never would have guessed she was so nightmarishly ticklish there, but the first touch caused her to shatter.
“MERCY!!! MERCEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!” screamed Camilla. But the mercy that she begged for was climax. But the fingers stroking the curves of her bottom were too expertly trained to allow her. Camilla howled and wept with laughter, but her only thought was how badly she needed release. She was so close…so close…
“Mmmmmmm,” muttered one of her torturers in approval as she reached inside her panties, tickling up the round, luscious ass cheeks. The long silken fingers teased Camilla to new heights of amorous torture: every touch was excruciatingly ticklish and yet she wanted more. More tickling, she cried out in her mind, would either kill her or push her to orgasm at last. She couldn’t take it, and she had to have more.
“EEEEEEEEEAAAAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHAA!!! MMMMPPHHHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Camilla babbled with laughter; she tried to speak but the tickling was so overpowering she could barely think. She was weak with laughter but she throbbed for a sexual release that never came. The unrelenting tickling was more than her teased, conflicted body could take. She had never been so unfulfilled in her life, and it underscored her utter helplessness. She was a plaything, driven mad with lust and doomed to endless laughter with only one way out. And at last, she could feel it coming. She shook with a final paroxysm of helpless laughter, and then the world around her went dark as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * * * *
Camilla was still weak and light-headed as she felt herself being lifted off the ground. Her hands were tied behind her back, but she could still stand. As consciousness slowly returned to her, she reflexively walked in the direction she was pointed, slowly trudging through dark torch-lit hallways of black stone. After the most exhausting ordeal of her life that had kept her so painfully unfulfilled, Camilla had no willpower to resist.
The torch sconces were set too far apart for them to effectively light the hallway: all they accomplished was causing everything to cast long misshapen shadows across the hallway. Camilla noticed there were two shadows behind her, belonging to the two sisters who were guiding her.
Even if she had known the layout of the building, Camilla would have had no idea where she was going: every hallway looked identical in the dim light. Maybe that was the point, she thought. But she didn’t have to wonder about her destination for long. Camilla turned a corner, and even after what she had been through, what she saw made her freeze in mortal terror.
Sitting on an unassuming chair and flanked by guards tactfully hidden in the shadows was the Dark Lady Lucaria, leader of the Sorority of Thieves and possibly the most powerful individual in the entire city. Camilla felt faint.
The Dark Lady wore a jet black robe, and her ebony hair cascaded down to her waist. Her deep ruby lips formed a faint smile, and her glittering silver eyes looked down at the girl brought before her as if it were an amusing stage performance.
“My, my,” said the Dark Lady. “I had to see this for myself. It’s not often we have thieves breaking into the Thieves’ House. This generally warrants a particularly…interesting form of punishment.”
Camilla whimpered softly.
“However—“ said the Dark Lady. Camilla felt an upsurge of desperate hope.
“However, there may be another option.” The Dark Lady paused, looking Camilla over again. “I understand you recently attempted to rush the Sorority of City Guards?”
“How did you know that?” asked Camilla.
“It is my job to be informed,” said the Dark Lady. “Yes, this might account for a certain…difference in thinking. Our Sorority is very proud of our rich tradition, but this tends to lead to a…particular mindset among our sisters. A streamlined way of doing things, as it were. On occasion, when a job requires directness instead of Thieves’ stealth, it behooves us to look for outside help.”
“You…want me to help you?” asked Camilla.
“You do not have to accept,” said the Dark Lady with a smile. “Of course, if you do not, my girls will be forced to continue their earlier treatment of you. Perhaps for several days.” Camilla felt her knees start to give way.
“What can I do for you?” Camilla asked quickly.
“It’s quite simple, actually,” said the Dark Lady. “Word has reached us that the Sorority of Explorers has returned from a recent expedition into barbarian lands with, among other things, an ancient piece of art. We believe it to be an idol of some sort. It must be located.”
“And stolen?” asked Camilla.
“And destroyed,” corrected the Dark Lady.
“Destroyed? But why?” asked Camilla. “I mean, aren’t you thieves?”
“This is no ordinary decoration,” said the Dark Lady. “It is magic.”
“Magic?” asked Camilla in disbelief. Her law-abiding outrage momentarily trumped her fear. “But that’s illegal!”
The Dark Lady nodded. “And for good reason.”
Camilla had never really thought about the reasons behind the ban, only that it existed. That was usually good enough for her. “Why is that?” she asked suddenly.
The Dark Lady frowned slightly. “I suppose it sounds like a good idea to you: having magical powers, being able to do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. But can you imagine what would happen if everyone could do this?”
“We’d all…have what we want?” asked Camilla. From the way the Dark Lady’s frown deepened, she guessed she had made the wrong conclusion.
“But, why are you concerned about this at all?” asked Camilla, wanting to move the conversation along. “If it’s a matter of breaking the law, shouldn’t this be a job for the City Guards?”
“Magic has not yet been practiced,” answered the Dark Lady. “Right now it is merely possessed, which is technically not a crime. And the Sorority of City Guards has no inclination whatsoever to prevent crime.”
“It…doesn’t?” asked Camilla, confused.
“You see,” said the Lady with the tone of someone explaining a concept to a child, “Every Sorority looks out for the interests of its sisters, first and foremost. This means ensuring that they can ply their trades.”
“I…guess,” said Camilla.
“And this means ensuring that there is always work. Thus, the Sorority of Builders and Artisans is largely concerned with tearing things down so that they can be rebuilt. The Sorority of Sages keeps control over information by releasing as little of it as possible. The Sorority of Explorers is dedicated to keeping land unmapped so it can be explored. And the Sorority of City Guards ensures that there is always enough crime to guard against.”
“And what does the Sorority of Thieves do?” asked Camilla.
“What is it that is required for thievery to occur?” asked the Lady with a blank expression.
“Um…rich people?” asked Camilla.
“And what does that require?”
“Money?” asked Camilla weakly. The thin frown reappearing on the Lady’s face indicated she guessed wrong again.
“People hoard money because they believe it will be safe,” explained the Lady patiently. “People become rich because of their faith in the law. In an anarchy, no one saves money because it may be taken from you tomorrow. In order for our sisters to thrive, we must have law. Thus, above all others, the Sorority of Thieves is concerned with maintaining the balance of law and order.”
Camilla blinked, and a silence fell over the chamber that she suspected was only awkward for her. There was only one other thing on her mind.
“What…what if I can’t find it?” she asked.
“Then you and I will be having another pleasant conversation very soon,” the Dark Lady assured her. “Incidentally, not to change the subject, but many of our sisters are even more skilled at the art of tickle torture than you have yet seen. I have no doubt they could tickle a woman to death over the course of several days. Several very long days.”
Camilla gulped. The mortal terror was back in full force.
“So, I trust we can count on your cooperation?” asked the Dark Lady.
“Of course,” said Camilla, forcing a smile.
City of Sororities - Chapter 1
Sonia leapt gracefully between the rooftops, her lithe body casting long, pale shadows from the full moon overhead. She could feel the cool night air on her face, an exhilarating sensation that made her heart beat faster. Running with quick, catlike steps across another rooftop, the bracing air was not the only thing that quickened her pulse. She was, after all, in forbidden territory, and furthermore she was there as a thief. But she was no common thief, she told herself with pride. She was a member of the Sorority of Thieves. She was the best.
Beneath her lay the city of Port Bastion, the largest and greatest city on the Continent, spread out in all directions as a great monument of civilization’s achievements. From here Sonia could see the flickering gaslights illuminating the richer neighborhoods of the city, one of the many technological advancements that could be found nowhere else on the Continent. But here, at the edge of the city, there were no such luxuries. The streets were rough cobblestone and the buildings were plain wood and brick. This was not commonly used territory, after all. This seldom-visited area held mostly warehouses, and was used mostly by the Sorority of Explorers. It was dangerous turf for a member of a rival Sorority to be caught in.
Sonia paused a moment, perched on the edge of a rooftop overlooking her destination. In the shadows, she was nearly invisible: the sleek black catsuit she wore blended in perfectly. She had made the catsuit herself, tailored from an unknown fabric originally found by the Explorers in one of the ruins in the barbarian lands. She did not know what it was, only that it deflected light and was very thin yet strong enough to stop a knife blade. The skin-tight suit was molded to her curves, hugging her thin waist and shapely hips and down her long legs to her ankles. The hardest part had been fitting it to her chest. Sonia had embarrassingly large breasts for a thief: large melon-sized globes that bounced when she walked. She had ended up incorporating some cutting-edge modern technology and inserting thin wire underneath them to support her breasts. That didn’t entirely stop them from moving, but it did give her acrobatic freedom. Wearing her black catsuit with flexible black boots, she wore a matching strip of cloth covering her mouth to obscure her features. With her jet-black hair tied back in a ponytail, she was a ghost.
Her invisibility served her well, for Sonia immediately saw that someone had beaten her to the prize. This occasionally happened as a result of internal competition inside the Sorority of Thieves, but a quick glance confirmed that her competitors were not, this time, her fellow sisters. They wore black hooded robes with long black gloves, and wore silver masks over their faces carved with two narrow eyeholes and a grotesque smile. There were two of them on the rooftop of Sonia’s target building, and they were not alone. Sitting on the roof beside them, gagged and bound in ropes from head to toe, was another girl whose boots had been removed and placed aside. She was currently being foot-tickled to within an inch of her life by the two masked strangers.
Sonia could tell the girl was a member of the Sorority of Explorers, judging from her stylized chainmail bikini which was a sort of unofficial uniform for their sisters. She howled into her gag as the two strangers feathered her feet, producing a muffled, echoing cry that Sonia had originally taken for the cry of a nighttime bird. The strangers knew how to use their feathers, stroking her long arches and sliding them between her wildly splaying toes. Sonia could see the effect they were having: tears glistened down the girl’s cheeks in the moonlight, and every exposed inch of her muscular body shone with sweat. The look on her face was one of unmistakable ticklish agony, with her eyes pleading for mercy.
But the masked strangers were not inclined to be merciful. Sonia could recognize a masterful tickle torturer when she saw one, and these strangers had all the hallmarks. They searched for the spots on the soles that produced the loudest and most desperate screams, and they guided their feathers to these magic spots like a hawk diving for its prey. The Explorer girl had a particularly sensitive spot on her instep, and feathering both feet there caused her to arch her back and howl into her gag for seconds on end. It was sadistically amusing to note that, for all her wilderness experience, this girl was still a tenderfoot.
“MMMMMMMMPPPHHHHH!!! MMMMMPPHHHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!!!” howled the girl through her gag. Her pale soles, gently illuminated by the moonlight, glowed red as the soft plumes flicked across the tender surfaces. Sonia crept forward for a better view.
Sonia watched from the shadows, transfixed but concerned. These torturers did not belong to her own Sorority, and they did not fit the profile of any other Sorority in the city. This meant they were probably free agents, but if they were here for the same quarry as Sonia they were definitely not small-time. If, like Sonia, they had come following the rumor that a genuine magical artifact was stored here, they were very dangerous.
The Sorority Council, the governing body of Port Bastion and the closest thing to a Continental government, had voted unanimously in favor of outlawing the practice of magic in Port Bastion. Each of the five Council representatives had their own reasons. The Sorority of Builders and Artisans stated that magic was potentially destructive and that one wizard could cause immense property damage. The Sorority of City Guards claimed that it would lead to crime with impunity. The Sorority of Explorers explained how demand for magic would cause all sort of amateurs to take up adventuring. The Sorority of Sages was more concerned with study than practice, and it was much easier to study something that wasn’t being practiced. The Sorority of Thieves simply voted “yes” on the proposition without explanation. No one ever listened to their explanations anyway: after all, they were thieves. Everyone resented their presence on the Council, but with all their influence it would have been impossible to exclude them.
But her questions were about to be answered: Sonia saw the two strangers stop their feathering torture at last, and one of them undid the gag on the girl’s mouth. She gasped weakly for breath and looked up at her two captors in undisguised terror.
“Please!” she pleaded hoarsely. “I’m telling the truth! The idol was the only piece we had! Please don’t tickle my feet!”
The two masked strangers looked at each other, weighing this testimony. “She may be lying,” said one of them. Sonia could not even tell the gender of the speaker: the voice was low and metallic from beneath the mask. It was alien, and yet inexplicably seductive.
“Unlikely,” said the other stranger in an identical voice. “You saw her reactions. This is probably it. The rest of their acquisitions are of no concern to us.”
Sonia stood ready to pounce. If she could ambush these two mysterious thieves, she might stand to gain some answers. She scanned her surroundings quickly with a roving eye to take stock of their position. But when she looked back, they were gone. There was no action on their part, no hand motion indicating a smoke bomb had been thrown. One moment they had been there, and now they were not.
Sonia scanned the streets for any way they may have escaped, but everything was still: there was no trace of the strangers. Whoever they were, they were expertly trained in the art of stealth. Sonia paused for a moment, and leapt down to the rooftop where now only the Explorer girl sat, tugging at her ropes.
“Please, help me!” cried the girl when she saw Sonia. “I don’t know who you are, but I need to get free! I beg you!”
Sonia considered the girl sitting bound and barefoot in front of her. Her decision came quickly. Sonia picked up the discarded gag and placed it back into the struggling girl’s mouth, tying it into place.
“All things in time,” said Sonia. “But first, I am in need of some answers.” She reached into a hidden pocket of her suit and produced a vital tool of the trade: a jet-black fluffy feather. The gagged girl’s eyes flew open in renewed terror.
For the next hour, the few people still awake in that quarter of the city noted that the nighttime birds were especially loud that night.
* * * * *
Camilla sat beside the other three pledges that she had spent the day with. The chance to rush the Sorority of City Guards came only once a year, and all of them were determined to make it. They had begun the day with forty pledges who had passed the basic testing. Eighteen had dropped out during the endurance run around the city walls. Five more had failed to balance a stack of ten Port Bastion Law Books on their backs while shining the boots of the senior sisters. Ten after that had failed to scale the city walls with weighted backpacks. Finally, the pledges had their pants removed and were paddled by the pledge mistress: three had failed to remain silent through the ordeal. Now, the four remaining pledges including Camilla were sitting in the basement of the Guards’ House with their tops removed. Their ankles, heads, and wrists were in padded stocks that kept them completely immobile. One by one, the pledge mistress walked by them and untied their boots, removing them and plucking off their socks.
“I congratulate you on reaching the final test,” said the pledge mistress, walking back and forth in front of the four pledges. “As you no doubt know, the Sorority of City Guards has many secrets which we are honor-bound to protect. It may fall upon any of our sisters to be captured by a rival sorority. Should this occur, we must know that you are impervious to certain…interrogation techniques.”
Camilla felt a knot in her stomach as eight sorority sisters entered the room. This was the only rest she had truly been afraid of. With her slender but muscular body built up from running and swimming, Camilla been able to easily endure the physical trials the pledges were put through. Her girlish and feminine appearance, however, often fooled people into overlooking her physical prowess. With a long head of auburn hair, a button nose, lightly freckled cheeks, and a very large pair of breasts with nipples that stubbornly made themselves visible through any and all fabrics, she made an extremely comely figure by any standard. She was the sort who typically inspired very colorful double-entendres in taverns, and only her ingrained respect for the law prevented her from knocking out the offenders. After all, the sort of upstanding citizen who wanted to be a City Guard didn’t go around starting tavern brawls, however justified.
But now with her bare feet in stocks, there was nothing deceptive about how soft and vulnerable her feet looked. She noticed she was the only pledge who had painted toenails.
“My favorite time of year,” smiled one of the sisters, looking directly at Camilla’s bare feet. Camilla felt a chill go down her spine.
“Now, pledges,” continued the pledge mistress as the eight sisters lines up in front of the eight trapped bare feet, “This will be a timed test. At any time, you ladies may forfeit by speaking the word, ‘mercy’. When we decide enough time has elapsed, any remaining pledges will be welcomed into the Sorority of City Guards.”
Camilla gulped as she looked at the eight sisters licking their lips. All of them had long fingernails, carefully manicured to sharp points. “Now, ladies,” said the pledge mistress. “On my mark. Ten…nine…eight…”
Suddenly, all eight sisters jumped into action, tickling the pledges’ bare feet with their sharp nails. Caught by surprise, all four pledges immediately burst into wild laughter. Camilla had no chance to resist: she howled as her ticklish feet fell under attack, with twenty fingers poking, prodding, and scratching her soft pink soles.
“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAPPPP!!” cried Camilla, barely managing to avoid the safeword. These girls were out for the kill: they searched out her tender spots and drilled into them, driving Camilla insane. Tears flowed down her wrists and her trapped hands slapped helplessly against the wood of the stocks as she struggled to escape.
“Koochie-koochie-koo! Beg for mercy, little girl!” cooed one of Camilla’s torturers as she tickled an unbearably soft spot on Camilla’s arches.
“We’re going to make you pee your panties, pledge!” taunted the other sister, running her long talon-like nails in quick staccato strokes all the way down her soles.
Camilla was crying too hard to see, but next to her she heard a fellow pledge cry out the word, “Mercy!”. Now there were only three left. Camilla couldn’t give up now, but the foot-tickling was pure torture. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to end it.
Camilla heard the pledge mistress’ voice through the wild echoing laughter. “Now, ladies,” she said, “it’s time to really see what you’re made of!”
Before Camilla had a chance to wonder what this meant, she felt a pair of hands with long fingernails grab her ribs from behind! With only her bra on for protection, Camilla had nothing to protect her sensitive skin from this surprise tickling attack. Her screams of laughter became even louder as the mystery hands squeezed her sides, walked up her ribs, and plunged into her exposed underarms to tickle the tender hollows.
“NOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!! NOT THE RIBS!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” cried a voice next to her, and Camilla was dimly aware that the other pledges must be subject to this diabolical surprise as well.
But she had no time to feel sorry for them. The fingertips wriggling in her ticklish underarms were driving her insane, and her poor feet were being abused beyond her worst nightmares. She tried to be strong and to think of how much pledging meant to her, but all she could think of was how ticklish she was.
“Say it, pledge!” taunted one of the sisters working over her soles. “These ticklish little feet don’t stand a chance!”
All together, three pairs of hands were having their way with Camilla’s ticklish body. She had never experienced tickle torture like this before, but she was sure that she would die laughing. She heard the voices of the sisters teasing her as they drove her to insanity. Camilla knew she couldn’t take another moment of it. Her mind tried to resist, but her ticklish body could take no more.
“MERCY!!! MERCEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEE!!!” screamed Camilla. Suddenly, the tickling stopped. After a moment of the greatest relief she had ever felt in her life, Camilla slowly realized that she was not going to be a sister this year.
* * * * *
Camilla walked dejectedly through the streets of Port Bastion, dragging her feet as she reflected on her failure. She had trained to join the Sorority of City Guards for months, and now she would have to wait an entire year to try again. Of course, there was still time to rush the Sorority of Explorers: they were always looking for girls in good shape like Camilla. But that would mean spending weeks in the wilderness searching through ruins in the farthest reaches of the Continent: a good life for some, but Camilla needed civilization. Then there were always those people who would tell her that she was better off not becoming one of the so-called sorority bitches at all. But Camilla wanted to become a Guard sister more than anything. Sorority sisters got all the respect in Port Bastion, the City Guards most of all. She would always remember sitting at the tavern where the City Guard sisters would be the center of attention, the girls everyone wanted to buy a drink for. And she had come so close to being one of them.
As her mood darkened, Camilla found herself walking down darker and more deserted streets, away from the market places and into the shadowy side-streets of Port Bastion. As she followed this subconscious path, it was hardly surprising that when she looked up, she found herself facing the darkest and most imposing building in the entire city: the Thieves’ House, home of the Sorority of Thieves. It loomed ominously above her: a dusty black building of tall towers and long, dark halls that was cast entirely in shadows. Affixed above the gates was the Sorority seal: a gilt engraving of a hand reaching into a pouch, encircled by the ancient and venerable motto of the Sorority: “Si is est non cautus”, which roughly translated as, “If it’s not nailed down…”
As a prospective for the Sorority of City Guards, Camilla felt a natural aversion to the Sorority of Thieves. The Guard and the Thief sisters had a fierce rivalry that went back to the creation of the two Sororities. It was no surprise since their jobs were directly opposed to each other. The Guards made a special effort to harass Thief Sisters in any way they could. One time they had confiscated the shirts and pants of a dozen Thief sisters in a crowded marketplace for “textile import code violations”. On the other hand, the Sorority of Thieves didn’t hesitate from engaging in one-upsmanship whenever they could. Most recently, the Thieves had broken into the Guards’ House and conducted a thorough panty raid. Since the Guard sisters all wore uniforms, their panties bore their Sorority seal and were coveted trophies for lawbreakers throughout the city. For a week afterward, the Sorority of Thieves ran a pair up their flagpole each morning.
Camilla was normally not given to shifty behavior. She was one of those people who, if you were to hit her in the middle of the street, would reflexively look around for a policeman before the instinct to hit back kicked in a split second later. But today a different side of her emerged. It may have been the sting of rejection, or the burning to prove herself, or the open window of the Thieves’ House which suddenly seemed like a sign from the gods. But Camilla had made up her mind. She was going to break into the house of the Sorority of Thieves, the great rivals of the City Guards, and steal from them to prove her dedication to the City Guards.
It was very straightforward in her mind as she looked around to see if anyone was watching her. There would doubtless be something inside worth taking, and she would know it when she found it. Something with their seal on it, perhaps. And when she returned victorious with this trophy, the City Guards just had to give her a second chance. Maybe she would even be accepted! She could see it all planned out in her head as she leapt in through the open window without hesitation. Her boots hit the ground on the other side and she felt a rush of adrenaline. She was in!
The room she found herself in could only be described as respectable. In fact, it had been designed by someone who had gone to considerable lengths to make it look respectable. It was an old-fashioned parlor, with patterned throw rugs on the ground, several tasteful porcelain vases on tables, and carefully spaced portraits of austere persons who were undoubtedly someone’s ancestors and probably gave a lot of money to various high-profile causes. The room was lit by a crackling fire in the fireplace, in front of which were two purple velvet chairs complete with ottomans. A small bookshelf in the corner held a collection of color-coordinated books arranged to match the drapes. Not a single thing was out of place, as is generally the case in rooms that are seen and not used. It was the sort of room that might be owned by the sort of person who describes themselves as a “legitimate businessman” who provides “valuable services to the community”, and if pressed on the nature of these services, well, we don’t really need to talk business right now, because he has this excellent bottle of ruby port you simply have to try…
But the difficulty with stealing on principle is that you have to find something personal to steal, and in a room so carefully calculated to be impersonal there was not much that fit the bill. Camilla felt sure that there had to be a trophy room or something like it nearby, if only she could find it.
Unfortunately, she never had the chance. Camilla heard a thin whisper behind her, and the faintest shadow of a footstep. Before her mind had time to register anything else, a lasso was thrown at her from behind, and suddenly Camilla found her arms tied to her sides by a thin length of black rope.
No, thought Camilla. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not to me. I’ve never broken the law before in my life.
They had to have been waiting for her, she thought. She knew that open window was too good to be true. They were probably hoping to catch a rival sorority member, and now, and now…her mind didn’t want to finish that sentence.
The rope holding her midsection was thrown over a chandelier, and Camilla was raised a foot above the floor. She kicked reflexively, but her assailants had been expecting that, too. As soon as her legs moved, two more lassos caught around her ankles and pulled them in opposite directions, holding Camilla in a Y-shaped position with her legs spread. She was trapped.
From the darkness, two women stepped forwards wearing black robes with hoods pulled over their eyes to obscure their features. They smiled at each other as they approached Camilla, contemplating their prey. To Camilla’s horror, one of them drew a gleaming knife from the folds of her robe and held it purposefully.
“Please! This isn’t what it looks like!” insisted Camilla. Unfortunately, her train of thought ended there. What else could it be, she thought with despair?
The glinting tip of the knife was drawn to her chest, and in quick stroke it ran down her chest. Camilla shut her eyes and braced herself for the pain, but it never came. Just as she opened her eyes in confusion, she saw a long gash down the front of her shirt, and it split open like a vest. Just as quickly, the knife made more slashes with surgical precision, and in seconds her clothing was in shreds on the ground. Camilla blushed in shame as she was left wearing only a skimpy pair of lacy black panties.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Camilla demanded, but it didn’t even sound tough to herself.
Neither of the hooded women said anything. Their silence was pregnant.
“What are you going to do to me?” asked Camilla with indignation.
The hooded woman nearest to her still said nothing, but she and her sister reached into a fold of their cloak. Without a word they each produced a soft, fluffy feather. Camilla’s muscles turned to jelly.
“P—please!” begged Camilla, memories of her initiation still fresh in her mind. “Not that! Anything but that!”
Camilla had to bite her lip as the feathers gently brushed over her bare breasts. Immediately her nipples went hard and she arched her back with a silent gasp. Camilla strained at the ropes as the feather tips teased her large, round areolas. Her lip trembled, and the feathers caressing the undersides of her breasts caused giggles to escape. The giggles turned to full laughter as the feathers moved to her sensitive tummy, but they knew that there was even more ticklish flesh to exploit. With smiles on their shadowy faces, Camilla’s torturers moved their feathers down to tickle her inner thighs.
The soft, milky flesh of Camilla’s inner thighs was one of the most sensitive spots on her entire body. Immediately every muscle in her body went rigid, and the first feathery touch made her shriek out loud. Her resistance was shattered, and she screamed with laughter at the achingly soft strokes.
“EEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!! NOT THEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERRRE!!!” Camilla begged. She tried desperately to close her legs but her bondage kept them spread and vulnerable. The teasing feathers stroked her silky thighs and circled around her legs, tickling beneath the curves of her ass left exposed by her tiny panties. Being feathered on this virgin flesh was unbearable torture, but the teasing was even more maddening. Camilla could feel the heat building between her legs but she was helpless to do anything.
With her soft thighs on fire from the diabolical feathering, one of her torturers moved her attention back to Camilla’s bare breasts, caressing her rock-hard nipples with masterful skill. The shadowy women remained silent with cruel smiles, watching as Camilla laughed herself into a lustful frenzy. The tears running down her cheeks glistened in the dim light, and her panties were dripping wet with her juices. The sensual torture wracked every inch of her body, and the only thing she could think about was release.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEASE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! LET ME CUM!!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!” screamed Camilla to her silent tormentors. The swelling between her legs was almost too much to bear: the manipulation of her bouncing breasts, her soft thighs, and her shapely ass was destroying her. She prayed that one of the women would lift aside her panties and slide a feather inside: even the softest touch would make her explode. But they cruelly kept her on the brink of orgasm, denying her release while teasing her within an inch of her life.
“Are you ready, sister?” asked one of Camilla’s torturers, breaking her silence at last.
“Ready,” said the other in a sultry whisper.
Together, the two of them cast aside their feathers and sunk their fingernails into Camilla’s ticklish flesh. The result was devastating. With all her strength already gone, Camilla sobbed with helpless laughter as the fingernails dug into her soft skin. One pair of hands fondled her breasts, tickling the bouncing globes while squeezing her ribs. The other hands attacked the soft fold of flesh where her thighs met her ass: Camilla never would have guessed she was so nightmarishly ticklish there, but the first touch caused her to shatter.
“MERCY!!! MERCEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!” screamed Camilla. But the mercy that she begged for was climax. But the fingers stroking the curves of her bottom were too expertly trained to allow her. Camilla howled and wept with laughter, but her only thought was how badly she needed release. She was so close…so close…
“Mmmmmmm,” muttered one of her torturers in approval as she reached inside her panties, tickling up the round, luscious ass cheeks. The long silken fingers teased Camilla to new heights of amorous torture: every touch was excruciatingly ticklish and yet she wanted more. More tickling, she cried out in her mind, would either kill her or push her to orgasm at last. She couldn’t take it, and she had to have more.
“EEEEEEEEEAAAAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHAA!!! MMMMPPHHHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Camilla babbled with laughter; she tried to speak but the tickling was so overpowering she could barely think. She was weak with laughter but she throbbed for a sexual release that never came. The unrelenting tickling was more than her teased, conflicted body could take. She had never been so unfulfilled in her life, and it underscored her utter helplessness. She was a plaything, driven mad with lust and doomed to endless laughter with only one way out. And at last, she could feel it coming. She shook with a final paroxysm of helpless laughter, and then the world around her went dark as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * * * *
Camilla was still weak and light-headed as she felt herself being lifted off the ground. Her hands were tied behind her back, but she could still stand. As consciousness slowly returned to her, she reflexively walked in the direction she was pointed, slowly trudging through dark torch-lit hallways of black stone. After the most exhausting ordeal of her life that had kept her so painfully unfulfilled, Camilla had no willpower to resist.
The torch sconces were set too far apart for them to effectively light the hallway: all they accomplished was causing everything to cast long misshapen shadows across the hallway. Camilla noticed there were two shadows behind her, belonging to the two sisters who were guiding her.
Even if she had known the layout of the building, Camilla would have had no idea where she was going: every hallway looked identical in the dim light. Maybe that was the point, she thought. But she didn’t have to wonder about her destination for long. Camilla turned a corner, and even after what she had been through, what she saw made her freeze in mortal terror.
Sitting on an unassuming chair and flanked by guards tactfully hidden in the shadows was the Dark Lady Lucaria, leader of the Sorority of Thieves and possibly the most powerful individual in the entire city. Camilla felt faint.
The Dark Lady wore a jet black robe, and her ebony hair cascaded down to her waist. Her deep ruby lips formed a faint smile, and her glittering silver eyes looked down at the girl brought before her as if it were an amusing stage performance.
“My, my,” said the Dark Lady. “I had to see this for myself. It’s not often we have thieves breaking into the Thieves’ House. This generally warrants a particularly…interesting form of punishment.”
Camilla whimpered softly.
“However—“ said the Dark Lady. Camilla felt an upsurge of desperate hope.
“However, there may be another option.” The Dark Lady paused, looking Camilla over again. “I understand you recently attempted to rush the Sorority of City Guards?”
“How did you know that?” asked Camilla.
“It is my job to be informed,” said the Dark Lady. “Yes, this might account for a certain…difference in thinking. Our Sorority is very proud of our rich tradition, but this tends to lead to a…particular mindset among our sisters. A streamlined way of doing things, as it were. On occasion, when a job requires directness instead of Thieves’ stealth, it behooves us to look for outside help.”
“You…want me to help you?” asked Camilla.
“You do not have to accept,” said the Dark Lady with a smile. “Of course, if you do not, my girls will be forced to continue their earlier treatment of you. Perhaps for several days.” Camilla felt her knees start to give way.
“What can I do for you?” Camilla asked quickly.
“It’s quite simple, actually,” said the Dark Lady. “Word has reached us that the Sorority of Explorers has returned from a recent expedition into barbarian lands with, among other things, an ancient piece of art. We believe it to be an idol of some sort. It must be located.”
“And stolen?” asked Camilla.
“And destroyed,” corrected the Dark Lady.
“Destroyed? But why?” asked Camilla. “I mean, aren’t you thieves?”
“This is no ordinary decoration,” said the Dark Lady. “It is magic.”
“Magic?” asked Camilla in disbelief. Her law-abiding outrage momentarily trumped her fear. “But that’s illegal!”
The Dark Lady nodded. “And for good reason.”
Camilla had never really thought about the reasons behind the ban, only that it existed. That was usually good enough for her. “Why is that?” she asked suddenly.
The Dark Lady frowned slightly. “I suppose it sounds like a good idea to you: having magical powers, being able to do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. But can you imagine what would happen if everyone could do this?”
“We’d all…have what we want?” asked Camilla. From the way the Dark Lady’s frown deepened, she guessed she had made the wrong conclusion.
“But, why are you concerned about this at all?” asked Camilla, wanting to move the conversation along. “If it’s a matter of breaking the law, shouldn’t this be a job for the City Guards?”
“Magic has not yet been practiced,” answered the Dark Lady. “Right now it is merely possessed, which is technically not a crime. And the Sorority of City Guards has no inclination whatsoever to prevent crime.”
“It…doesn’t?” asked Camilla, confused.
“You see,” said the Lady with the tone of someone explaining a concept to a child, “Every Sorority looks out for the interests of its sisters, first and foremost. This means ensuring that they can ply their trades.”
“I…guess,” said Camilla.
“And this means ensuring that there is always work. Thus, the Sorority of Builders and Artisans is largely concerned with tearing things down so that they can be rebuilt. The Sorority of Sages keeps control over information by releasing as little of it as possible. The Sorority of Explorers is dedicated to keeping land unmapped so it can be explored. And the Sorority of City Guards ensures that there is always enough crime to guard against.”
“And what does the Sorority of Thieves do?” asked Camilla.
“What is it that is required for thievery to occur?” asked the Lady with a blank expression.
“Um…rich people?” asked Camilla.
“And what does that require?”
“Money?” asked Camilla weakly. The thin frown reappearing on the Lady’s face indicated she guessed wrong again.
“People hoard money because they believe it will be safe,” explained the Lady patiently. “People become rich because of their faith in the law. In an anarchy, no one saves money because it may be taken from you tomorrow. In order for our sisters to thrive, we must have law. Thus, above all others, the Sorority of Thieves is concerned with maintaining the balance of law and order.”
Camilla blinked, and a silence fell over the chamber that she suspected was only awkward for her. There was only one other thing on her mind.
“What…what if I can’t find it?” she asked.
“Then you and I will be having another pleasant conversation very soon,” the Dark Lady assured her. “Incidentally, not to change the subject, but many of our sisters are even more skilled at the art of tickle torture than you have yet seen. I have no doubt they could tickle a woman to death over the course of several days. Several very long days.”
Camilla gulped. The mortal terror was back in full force.
“So, I trust we can count on your cooperation?” asked the Dark Lady.
“Of course,” said Camilla, forcing a smile.
