A while ago, I wrote a fantasy serial called City of Sororities (the first chapter here), and for a while now I have wanted to write a sequel. For those who haven't read the original, I hope this story stands alone, but if you enjoy this story I encourage you to read the original!
I will be updating this thread every Sunday with a new chapter. So please check back, and as always I would love to hear from those who are enjoying it!
Update: The final chapter is up! Thank you, everyone, for all your support!
And now, without further ado:
Chapter 1
It was a cold day in Pandemonium, capitol city of the Demonic Plane. This meant it was still hot enough to melt the flesh off a human body in seconds, if there had been any around. But it was chilly enough that a succubus like Khylia had to worry about her nipples being visible through the thin black leather of her tight-laced bustier. Not that that wasn’t always the case.
Khylia walked with a quick stride, her enormous breasts bouncing visibly with every brisk step. Like most succubi, she was several cup sizes larger than they actually made clothing for in the mortal realm; it was a good thing she was several orders of magnitude stronger than a human or she probably would have had to worry about back pain. Her torso tapered gracefully down to a perfectly flat, toned stomach, and then down to a waist so thin you could practically cup two hands around it. From her round, feminine hips and curvaceous backside, came down a pair of long, flexible legs that she could easily lift above her head without exerting herself. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary.
Khylia threw back her long, raven-black hair in a gesture of annoyance, and the bat-wings on her back reflexively fluttered out of its way. This was the second time this week she had been called to the Summoning Queue, and she was rather getting tired of it. But of course, when you were called, you didn’t really have a choice.
As a succubus, Khylia was in a sort of public relations role for the Demonic Plane. It was rather important that mortals liked what they saw when they cast demon-summoning spells. If they could spread the idea that the Demonic Plane was filled with busty women and irreverent music, it considerably increased the chances of some wizard selling his soul here in exchange for earthly pleasures. It was a good system, but it did mean that whenever some conjurer somewhere on the Corporeal Plane cast a demon-summoning spell, the Office of Demonic Affairs was more likely to put a succubus at the front of the Summoning Queue to be sent to the mortal realm. And Khylia in particular came up often. For one, her name was fairly easy for mortals to pronounce: most succubi were saddled with names like Zyz’xxkqk, although after several failed attempts to get mortals to say it right most of them settled on names like Voluptua during working hours. But Khylia had also gone on a large number of extended summonings and had acquired a familiarity with the Corporeal Plane that made her particularly good at conversing with mortals.
Khylia came to a stop in front of the office door of Belial, Regional Summoning Director for her division. She knocked on the door, and was immediately answered by Belial’s overly jovial voice calling from inside, “Come in, come in!” He spoke in that delighted-to-see-you tone of voice that he always used when delivering unpleasant news to someone. Khylia shuddered slightly, folded her wings behind her, and pushed the door open.
Inside the office, sitting behind a wide mahogany desk in a high-backed office chair, sat Belial: Regional Summoning Director and official Queue Manager, whose job it was to coordinate which demons would be sent to which summonings on the Corporeal Plane. The office itself was large and cavernous, and felt conspicuously empty. The walls were covered with half a dozen abstract art paintings, each of which consisted solely of several colored squares in various arrangements. Next to these was a large framed print of a flock of birds flying in formation, with the caption, “SYNERGY!” at the bottom. A large potted plant, obviously fake, reflected a blinding glare from its plastic leaves in the corner. And behind the chair, a large plaque urged the reader to “Turn That Frown…Upside-Down!” As always the entire room was immaculately spotless. Almost as though no real work was done in here.
“Marvelous, marvelous!” declared Belial with his massive clawed fingertips together. “Just the person I wanted to see! Do sit down.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Khylia, sitting down in the visitor’s chair. It had the perfect kind of wobble that kept you shifting your weight the entire time you sat in it. “But if I may, I did just come back from a summoning only a few days ago. And it was a particularly…extended stay.”
“Yes, I’ve been looking over the file right here,” said Belial, gesturing downwards a manila file on the desktop. “Incidentally, how was the annual Necromancer’s orgy?”
“Long. So with all due respect, sir, perhaps…”
“Yes, under normal circumstances I would agree,” answered Belial. “But unfortunately, what we have on our hands now is a case that I believe you have some experience with. You see, we’ve had another summoning from the Sorority of Sages.”
“Oh no,” said Khylia with a sigh. There was a time when Demonic Affairs had courted the Sorority of Sages eagerly, viewing it as a strong potential source of contracts. Only the best had been sent there, and it was considered quite a prestigious assignment at the time. But it soon became clear that the Sorority sisters had no interest in the kinds of contracts the Office of Demonic Affairs was preoccupied with. Their summonings were purely recreational: huddled groups of girls in dimly-lit bedrooms, giggling nervously and eager for the sinful enticements of forbidden pleasures. Luckily, these midnight rituals carried very little magic power behind them: they could only tether a demon to the Corporeal Plane for an hour or two, which was enough time for a succubus to pretend to have a headache until she was called back home. It was, at worst, a minor nuisance.
But recently, these summoning rituals had become much more powerful. Suddenly demons were summoned to their Sorority House for days at a time, a feat only accomplished by the most powerful demonologists in the mortal realm. Demonic Affairs had become understandably concerned, but Khylia was even more so. For the girls of the Sorority of Sages had…notable appetites. Khylia herself had only seen the tip of it, but she had known other succubi who had been summoned to the Sorority and undergone things that they absolutely refused to talk about. And it took quite a lot to rattle a succubus.
“Look, I understand how important this is,” said Khylia. “But isn’t there some other employee who can handle this damned—“
“Now, now,” tutted Belial, shaking his massive clawed finger. “You know we don’t use that word here!”
“Sorry.” Khylia rolled her eyes. “Isn’t there another goal actualizer who can handle this damned assignment?”
“Not with your unique qualifications, I’m sorry to say,” said Belial, not looking sorry at all.
“Honestly, I don’t know if I’m up for another stint on the Corporeal Plane so soon,” said Khylia. “Isn’t there another alternative?”
“Why yes, as a matter of fact, there is!” declared Belial, rubbing his hands together. “As it just so happens, I’ve been looking for someone to handle the presentation slides for our upcoming Workplace Morale Seminar! This quarter’s theme is, ‘There’s No “I” In “Team!”’”
Khylia sighed heavily. “When do I leave?”
It was a hot day in Port Bastion, the greatest city on the most civilized continent of the Corporeal Plane. The sweltering heat blanketed the city, with the sun’s unrelenting rays driving all but the most stalwart of citizens indoors to bask in the relative shade. Only the most industrious of pickpockets were out on the streets, but there were few pedestrians to take advantage of the uncharacteristically safe conditions. Towering above the rooftops and the mazes of alleyways stood the five most prominent buildings in the city: the grand Sorority Houses, ancient and venerable buildings which had looked over the urban sprawl beneath them for centuries with a watchful eye. These buildings were more than simply monuments, however: they were the centers of trade, the seats of political power, the very beating heart of Port Bastion itself.
The Houses were anchors of permanence in a constantly shifting city: tomorrow that block of stores might get knocked down to make way for a new road, but come what may, the Sorority Houses would remain. It was little wonder that the most talented, the most ambitious citizens of Port Bastion found their way to the five Houses eventually, eager to pledge their loyalty to these revered pillars of society.
At the center of Port Bastion's bustling center of growth was the Sorority of Builders and Artisans: a mecca for the most creative minds in the city, whose Sorority House changed almost by the week, its architecture always in flux with the newest and most avant-garde ideas in engineering. Flanking it was the Sorority of Explorers: the vanguard of knowledge into unknown lands, whose House stood as an ancient castle as venerable as the ruins its sisters explored in the wilderness. The Sorority of Sages stood nearby: an august, ivy-covered university which proclaimed its stature as a center of learning to the greatest minds of the city. And off in the shadows, cloaked in darkness in the city's lawless quarter, was the House of the Sorority of Thieves: a chaotic, jagged mass of towers and spires which stood as an affront to any kind of order, its black stone casting the pall of night over the surrounding streets and scaring away all but the bravest and most foolish. It was a safe harbor to the most dangerous elements in all the city.
But it was the fifth and final House, that of the Sorority of City Guards, which would bear witness to the beginning of a great adventure that day. The House itself loomed over the city like a guardian angel: its tall, austere towers perfectly rigid in their enforcement of the natural order. And yet, despite the Sorority's reputation for almost severe discipline, few could have guessed what was occurring inside its walls at that very moment.
“Catch her!” Jeina cried gleefully as she and a contingent of her girls ran after their target. If there was one thing the Sorority of City Guards prided itself on, it was unit cohesion, but here the girls chased their prey like a ravenous pack of wildcats, rather than a disciplined phalanx. It was just as well, though, since this was hardly a routine exercise. For one, their target was one of their own.
Jeina and her girls streaked down the wide hallways of the City Guards’ House, chasing after one of their junior members. It had all started as some friendly roughhousing in the changing rooms, until one of the girls discovered a weakness that was too delicious to pass up. Now Jeina and her girls ran after their fleeing sister, all of them clad only in the skimpy thong panties bearing their Sorority’s seal: an embroidered rose with a thorny stem to remind the lucky onlooker that their girls were both beautiful and deadly. The girls’ thongs revealed a parade of toned legs and muscular bouncing buttocks as they dashed down the hallways of the Sorority, modesty completely forgotten in the heat of the moment. Long, lustrous hair of every shade streamed behind them as they ran, giggling with anticipation, their manicured hands outstretched in front of them. Everywhere naked, perfectly round breasts heaved up and down like juicy, tempting fruits begging to be plucked. Round hips bumped against each other as they scrambled past one another, each wanting to be the first to catch their target.
“EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEK!!!” One of the faster runners was the first to make contact: she reached out with a pair of well-manicured hands and squeezed the sides of the fleeing girl, causing her to explode into squeals of laughter. The attack only slowed her down for a second, but a second was all the head-start she had. In an instant, over a dozen giggling tickle-hungry girls had tackled her from behind, sending her tumbling down to the ground beneath an avalanche of sweaty, nearly-naked female bodies. In another second she was pinned at the waist, and her arms and legs were spread out and held to the ground. She struggled with all her might, but this was a fight she was not going to win.
“Ready, girls?” asked Jeina in jubilation. “Tickle her!”
Her girls didn't need to be told twice, or even once. More than one hundred probing, ravenous fingers assaulted the pinned girl's body from every direction, touching every ticklish spot on her soft, exposed skin with merciless fingernails. Fingers squeezed her sides and wrapped around her to tickle her belly, while other girls kneaded her ribs and cupped her breasts from underneath, playing with the hard nipples with gentle flicks of their fingertips. Others dug into her ticklish underarms, pressing into the pliable flesh as the poor girl fought in vain to lower her arms and protect herself. And more fingers than anyone could count scribbled across her hyper-ticklish feet, with some girls taking it upon themselves to hold her toes apart so their sisters could exploit the tender hidden undersides. It was an orgy of tickling fingers, tender flesh, and insane laughter.
In minutes, the girl could no longer even babble in broken sentences: now the screams that came from her mouth were inhuman and primal. But this only drove the sisters into a deeper frenzy. Tongues soon joined the barrage of fingers: first slurping across her warm, pink soles, then licking and nibbling up the backs of her legs to linger at the backs of her knees, and finally teasing the gentle curvature where her legs met her toned, tempting ass.
“EEEEEK!!! No fair!” squealed one of the girls on top of the pile, suddenly caught off guard by a roving pair of hands plunging into her exposed underarms.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOT MEEEHEHEHEEEE!!!” shrieked another, discovering too late that her legs were pinned and her bare feet face-up and defenseless.
In such an environment, it was inevitable that some of the fingers would reach other targets: two of the sisters would tickle each other, and this would spin off into a private tickle-fight on the side, until soon the pile of bodies was engulfed in lustful chaos, with every pair of hands grabbing whatever they could to tickle it senseless. Thongs were stripped off and cast into the air, left hanging on chandeliers while bare legs intertwined like serpents and naked asses were tickled with glee. All pitches of laughter echoed over each other, from high-pitched girlish squeals to loud, booming laughter: the only thing they all had in common was that it was the language of the wildly ticklish.
It was a good day at the Sorority.
“I hear I missed all the fun with your squad this afternoon,” remarked Diane as she approached Jeina.
“I prefer to think of it as team-building,” chuckled Jeina. She looked out over the ramparts of the Sorority House, gazing at the panorama of the city below and basking in the warm glow of their tickling orgy several hours ago. The girls had tickled each other until they were exhausted: the laughter eventually mixed with moans of pleasure and pleading for more, until they were too satiated to speak. Jeina would probably get a reprimand for lax discipline, but it had been worth it.
“Well now that you mention it, my squad could probably use some team-building, too,” grinned Diane as she walked up next to Jeina, leaning against the stone wall and sharing the view. Even with the blazing sun beating down incessantly on the city, there were a million dark shadows in the labyrinth of streets below, each one a haven for the dark forces that plagued the city. Jeina was a veteran who knew every twist and turn the streets had to offer: already she was going through the evening's patrol route in her head, anticipating when her squad would be sent out later that day. It was a demanding job, but it was all that kept Port Bastion secure.
“So what can I help you with?” asked Jeina. “Or are you just here to admire the view?”
“I've come to deliver a message for you,” said Diane. “You're needed. I've been told it's urgent.”
“We're about to go out on patrol,” said Jeina. “Can't it wait until later?”
“I'm afraid not,” said Diane. “You see, it's from Commander Jadiss.”
Jeina walked up the last few stairs of the spiral staircase, culminating in the peak of the House's tallest tower. She had only been here a few times before, and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She told herself that she had no reason to be afraid, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. It was like being a student again, being called to the superintendent's office. Jeina summoned up her courage and knocked on the ornate wooden door.
“Come in,” said a calm, reassuring voice from behind.
Jeina pushed open the door slowly, still trying to collect herself. The heavy door creaked slightly as it gave way to the office inside: a large, stately, sparsely decorated room that had very little in the way of pomp or grandeur. A large wooden desk and a set of filing cabinets, both ancient, were the most notable pieces in the room. From a brief look, one could hardly have realized that this was the office of one of the most powerful women in Port Bastion.
Commander Jadiss stood by the window of her office: calm and self-possessed, with her locks of chestnut hair gleaming in the sun. Her honorific title was Lady Jadiss, but she insisted on using the title Commander, which she rightly felt was earned instead of bestowed upon her. For she was the leader of the Sorority of City Guards: once a young recruit, she had climbed her way up through the ranks until she had reached the absolute pinnacle of achievement for the Sorority. It was difficult to tell how old she was, but she still cast a stunning form, made more impressive by the grace with which she carried herself. She still wore her uniform, eschewing the regal fineries that other women in her position might have chosen instead. As she smiled at her visitor, Jeina could already feel some of her apprehension fading.
“Commander.” Jeina acknowledged, snapping to attention.
“At ease, Sergeant,” said the Commander. “Do come in.”
“Yes, Commander.” Jeina relaxed somewhat, but she was still very conscious of who she was addressing.
“May I offer you a drink?” asked Commander Jadiss. “The girls over at the Sorority of Builders and Artisans have recently developed a marvelous device they were kind enough to share with me. I understand it uses chemical reactions to produce extreme cold, capable of freezing small amounts of water into ice. Several cubes of it makes for a remarkably refreshing glass of water. Would you like some?”
“Yes, thank you Commander,” replied Jeina shifting her weight slightly.
“Ice in the middle of summer,” mused the Commander as she placed two glasses beneath a large, gear-driven machine in the corner of the room. After several seconds of noisy labor, several cubes of ice fell from a spigot and clinked into the empty glasses. The Commander filled them up with water from a decanter on a nearby table. “The march of progress never ceases to amaze me. We owe much to the balance of power, Sergeant: it provides us with the peace we need to reach our full potential.”
“I suppose so, Commander,” replied Jeina. She took the glass of ice water graciously and took a sip.
“But I suppose you're wondering why I called you here,” continued the Commander with a smile.
“The thought had crossed my mind, Commander,” said Jeina.
“Then I'll be direct. You are no doubt aware, Sergeant, of a rather...disturbing recent change in the behavior of the Sorority of Sages. Increased aggressiveness, enhanced public presence. All in all, a distinctly unbalanced state of affairs.”
Jeina nodded: she had her ear to the street, and knew precisely what the Commander was talking about. Rivalries and pranks between the Sororities were nothing new; in fact, they were nearly as old as the Houses themselves. But recently, the balance of power had shifted in favor of the Sorority of Sages. Suddenly they knew things about their rival Houses, things no outsider was supposed to know: secret entrances, the locations of valued treasures, jealously guarded secrets passed down from one senior sister to the next. At first, the assumption was universal: they were using magic to spy on their enemies. But try as they might, no other House could find the slightest indication of magic. Magic within the walls of Port Bastion was strictly prohibited by order of the Council of Sororities, and these was no way something as powerful as a scrying spell could remain undetected by the Council. So for the meantime, their advantage remained a mystery.
“Do you know what could be causing it?” asked Jeina.
Commander Jadiss shook her head. “I have been in contact with the leadership of their Sorority, and I am afraid to say that the only information I have learned is elusive and unhelpful. Still, I was content to let this state of affairs play out, until recently. We now have credible intelligence that the Sorority of Sages has been conducting kidnappings of our sisters. I don't need to tell you that this is in direct violation of the charter between the Sororities. We cannot allow this to continue.”
“Are we certain it's them?” asked Jeina.
“Quite certain, Sergeant. And as if that weren't enough, I happen to know that the other Sororities have reached the same conclusion about their missing members. Even the Sorority of Thieves has been hit.”
Jeina looked taken aback. “How could we know if--?”
The Commander smiled indulgently. “Not everything in this city is the way it appears to be, Sergeant. I won't bore you with politics, but suffice it to say, Port Bastion does not run as smoothly as it does by accident.”
“I—suppose so,” answered Jeina. The response sounded woefully inadequate to her ears.
“Intrigue was never something that interested an old soldier like me, Sergeant,” said the Commander. “But there are times when cooperation benefits us all. I learned that the hard way. And that is why I need you. I need you on this case, Sergeant. I need you to find out what it is the Sorority of Sages is up to, and how we can put a stop to it.”
“I'd be honored, Commander,” said Jeina, subconsciously coming to attention again. “But if I might ask, why me?”
“I'm familiar with your file, Sergeant,” answered the Commander. “We need someone capable like you, who knows the streets: someone experienced enough to know the ropes, but not high-level enough to stand out in a crowd. We need someone who can blend in out in the streets and turn up a few hidden secrets about the Sorority of Sages: how and why they've been able to do what they have. And quite frankly, beyond all that, one thing the years have taught me is to trust my instincts, and they tell me that you are the woman for the job. I need you to gather information and report back to me the moment you find something. Can I count on you?”
“Absolutely, Commander,” said Jeina with a flush of pride. “I'll get started immediately. Permission to be excused?”
“Granted.” The Commander finished off her glass of ice water as the young Sergeant left her office. She smiled with approval. She had been that eager to prove herself once: she knew what it was like. As the footsteps died away down the spiral staircase, Commander Jadiss walked over to the window, and next to it where there stood a wooden perch with four carrier pigeons, each a flawless ivory white. She selected the second bird from the right. Writing out a quick note in coded shorthand, she tied the piece of parchment to the pigeon's leg and walked it over to the windowsill. She stroked its feathers, and then with a flourish of her hand she released it out into the sky with its message.
“Fly away, little one,” said the Commander as the bird disappeared from view. “We'll see if you can't set Lucaria's mind at ease.”
In one of the shadowy, forgotten corners of the Sorority of Sages, a single girl dressed in sage’s robes walked through the darkness with only a dim lantern to light her way. She walked through a maze of empty, distended rooms, past the dust and cobwebs, until she reached her destination. It was a small dead-end chamber with only a spiral staircase set into the floor, leading down into the blackness like a gate to the netherworld. The girl held her lantern before her and slowly began to descend.
Deep beneath the Sorority of Sages there still existed countless underground chambers: some used often for rituals, but others long forgotten. And if a sage were to come across one of these forgotten chambers, and she were very careful to conceal herself, it might make an ideal location to practice a small amount of magic without anyone ever finding out.
As the girl reached the bottom of the staircase, she was pleased to see she had reached the right location. In the center of the room was a large round pool, bubbling with a strange purple liquid that gave off thick vapors rising to the ceiling. Directly above the pool was a crossbar, and hanging from the bar for dear life were two completely naked girls. They both screamed with laughter as they tried their best to hold on to the bar, and it took a moment to see why. As the purple vapors from the pool rose up past their naked bodies, the wisps of vapor briefly coalesced into ghostly hands that stroked and tickled their naked bodies, driving them wild with every touch. And standing off to the side, watching calmly, was another girl in sage’s robes: she held up her hands to seemingly tickle the air, but every time her hands moved the ghostly hands from the vapor obeyed her commands, like a puppet-master controlling a marionette.
“STAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!!! WE’LL TALK!!! WE’LL TALK!!!” begged the two laughing girls, swinging wildly from the crossbar as they tried to squirm away from the tickling hands.
“I don’t need any more information from you, girls,” said the sage by the pool. “You’ve already told us everything we need to know. Now, it’s all about having some fun.” She brought her hands together, and immediately four ethereal hands began gently stroking their inner thighs. The girls began to scream even more loudly, gyrating their hips and kicking wildly with their legs in all directions, desperate to escape the tickling of their soft thighs.
“Why hello Gabrielle,” said the girl by the staircase after admiring the spectacle for several minutes. “You know, you should be careful about using magic, even down here.”
“Are you here just to deliver a warning, Claire?” asked Gabrielle, still absorbed in her pleasurable work. She brought up two new pairs of hands to squeeze the girls’ sides and play with their taut bellies. The girls were in tears, howling as their fingers began to slip ever so slightly.
“I’m afraid I have a message from You-Know-Who,” said Claire. “We need another bushel of serpent-thistle for the cauldron, and she wants you to get it.”
“Aww, do I have to?” pouted Gabrielle. The fingers began to walk ever so slowly up the girls’ inner thighs, encountering new and hopelessly more ticklish flesh with every passing inch. Every time a soft spot was touched, the chamber would echo with a piercing shriek, and their naked bodies would twist into an impossible position like an acrobat just to try and escape the touch of the fingers. But of course, they never could.
“NO MORE TICKLING!!! WAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!” screamed both girls, desperately trying to pull themselves back up to the bar.
“I’m afraid so,” said Claire. “You know how insistent she can get, especially when it comes to the cauldron.”
“I hope that thing is worth it,” said Gabrielle. “For all the trouble it takes to take care of it.”
At that moment, a small rock fell from the chamber ceiling, plummeting into the pool. Just as it reached the liquid’s surface, a great black tentacle reached up out of the pool and snatched the rock in mid-air, disappearing beneath the surface a moment later. Both hanging girls took one look at this and scrambled back up to the bar in a burst of adrenaline.
“What is that thing, by the way?” asked Claire.
“Oh, it’s not lethal,” said Gabrielle with a smirk. “But being caught by it can be…singularly unpleasant. Especially for the very ticklish.”
“Hmm, well in that case, perhaps we should finish these two off and get to work,” said Claire. “That is, if you don’t mind my joining you.”
“Not at all,” grinned Gabrielle.
Claire held up her hands, and four more hands coalesced out of the purple mist: hands with long fingernails that rose up to firmly grab and tickle their taut, naked asses with delight.
“OH NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!! NOT BACK THERE!!! WOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!!!”
“NOT THE ASS!!! WAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”
The hands squeezed and tickled their firm cheeks, teasing the soft skin, and letting their fingertips gently sweep into the tender space in between the cheeks. Two ticklish asses bounced in unison in midair, while two pairs of ticklish thighs flushed red with ticklishness and arousal. A swarm of tickling fingers devoured the tender flesh with their excruciatingly soft touches, as the two sages looked on hungrily.
“MERCY!!! MERCEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!” The girls were slipping now: their palms fell below the crossbar until only their knuckles were hooked around the bar. They struggled with all their might, but the tickling was too much to bear. They could only kick the air as the purple hands tickled their cheeks without mercy, and walked even further up their inner thighs until the soft, milky flesh was so ticklish that at last…
“OHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”
And with a final touch to the girls’ soft spots, their fingers slipped from the crossbar and they plummeted down, down towards the pool of purple liquid. And like a guard waiting patiently to make an arrest, two black tentacles broke forth from the liquid with a splash and wrapped themselves around the girls’ midsections, dragging them down below the liquid as their final ticklish screams echoed through the chamber after them…
Claire smiled. “You were right, that was fun.”
Gabrielle nodded in appreciation. “Well, pleasure’s over. Now down to business.”
A cloud of deep purple incense filled the chamber, appearing out of nowhere in the blink of an eye. Flecks of gold in the cloud glinted in the dim lamplight, dancing like faeries of the dusk. It filled the chamber with a deep, musky perfume that spoke to dark, forbidden pleasures.
In the center of the cloud lay the body of Khylia, freshly summoned from the Demonic Plane. Her eyes were still adjusting to the light, but she could feel that she was reclining on a soft bed, decked in down pillows. The gentle caress of a gauze curtain brushed against her cheek. This was all she needed to know; instinct took over, she knew what to do.
“Glad I could make it to the party. I’m ready for a sinfully good time,” she intoned lustily in the huskiest voice she could manage. She batted her long eyelashes at nothing in particular, and gyrated her curvaceous hips for the benefit of any onlookers.
But there was no response. As the purple mist cleared, Khylia found herself in a boudoir of sorts, completely empty except for her. She lay there for a moment, glancing resentfully around with the indignation of a jilted performer. There was such a thing as professional etiquette.
After a few moments, when it became clear that no one was going to receive her, Khylia decided to get up and explore her surroundings. Except she suddenly realized that she could not. Her arms were held in padded handcuffs, chained behind her to the wall. Nothing she hadn’t seen before: some mortals could get clever with their summoning rituals. But oddly enough, her ankles were bound as well. As her eyes began adjusting to the light, she could see that her ankles were held in a pair of padded stocks at the foot of her bed. What was the meaning of…
And then Khylia looked around the rest of the room. Everywhere there were vases, cabinets, and tables full of feathers of every conceivable variety. And piled next to them were brushes, soft fur gloves, and vials of body oil. Suddenly her situation began to dawn on her.
“Oh, no.” Khylia muttered. “Oh, no, no, no.”
I will be updating this thread every Sunday with a new chapter. So please check back, and as always I would love to hear from those who are enjoying it!
Update: The final chapter is up! Thank you, everyone, for all your support!
And now, without further ado:
City of Sororities:
Infernal Rapport
Infernal Rapport
Chapter 1
It was a cold day in Pandemonium, capitol city of the Demonic Plane. This meant it was still hot enough to melt the flesh off a human body in seconds, if there had been any around. But it was chilly enough that a succubus like Khylia had to worry about her nipples being visible through the thin black leather of her tight-laced bustier. Not that that wasn’t always the case.
Khylia walked with a quick stride, her enormous breasts bouncing visibly with every brisk step. Like most succubi, she was several cup sizes larger than they actually made clothing for in the mortal realm; it was a good thing she was several orders of magnitude stronger than a human or she probably would have had to worry about back pain. Her torso tapered gracefully down to a perfectly flat, toned stomach, and then down to a waist so thin you could practically cup two hands around it. From her round, feminine hips and curvaceous backside, came down a pair of long, flexible legs that she could easily lift above her head without exerting herself. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary.
Khylia threw back her long, raven-black hair in a gesture of annoyance, and the bat-wings on her back reflexively fluttered out of its way. This was the second time this week she had been called to the Summoning Queue, and she was rather getting tired of it. But of course, when you were called, you didn’t really have a choice.
As a succubus, Khylia was in a sort of public relations role for the Demonic Plane. It was rather important that mortals liked what they saw when they cast demon-summoning spells. If they could spread the idea that the Demonic Plane was filled with busty women and irreverent music, it considerably increased the chances of some wizard selling his soul here in exchange for earthly pleasures. It was a good system, but it did mean that whenever some conjurer somewhere on the Corporeal Plane cast a demon-summoning spell, the Office of Demonic Affairs was more likely to put a succubus at the front of the Summoning Queue to be sent to the mortal realm. And Khylia in particular came up often. For one, her name was fairly easy for mortals to pronounce: most succubi were saddled with names like Zyz’xxkqk, although after several failed attempts to get mortals to say it right most of them settled on names like Voluptua during working hours. But Khylia had also gone on a large number of extended summonings and had acquired a familiarity with the Corporeal Plane that made her particularly good at conversing with mortals.
Khylia came to a stop in front of the office door of Belial, Regional Summoning Director for her division. She knocked on the door, and was immediately answered by Belial’s overly jovial voice calling from inside, “Come in, come in!” He spoke in that delighted-to-see-you tone of voice that he always used when delivering unpleasant news to someone. Khylia shuddered slightly, folded her wings behind her, and pushed the door open.
Inside the office, sitting behind a wide mahogany desk in a high-backed office chair, sat Belial: Regional Summoning Director and official Queue Manager, whose job it was to coordinate which demons would be sent to which summonings on the Corporeal Plane. The office itself was large and cavernous, and felt conspicuously empty. The walls were covered with half a dozen abstract art paintings, each of which consisted solely of several colored squares in various arrangements. Next to these was a large framed print of a flock of birds flying in formation, with the caption, “SYNERGY!” at the bottom. A large potted plant, obviously fake, reflected a blinding glare from its plastic leaves in the corner. And behind the chair, a large plaque urged the reader to “Turn That Frown…Upside-Down!” As always the entire room was immaculately spotless. Almost as though no real work was done in here.
“Marvelous, marvelous!” declared Belial with his massive clawed fingertips together. “Just the person I wanted to see! Do sit down.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Khylia, sitting down in the visitor’s chair. It had the perfect kind of wobble that kept you shifting your weight the entire time you sat in it. “But if I may, I did just come back from a summoning only a few days ago. And it was a particularly…extended stay.”
“Yes, I’ve been looking over the file right here,” said Belial, gesturing downwards a manila file on the desktop. “Incidentally, how was the annual Necromancer’s orgy?”
“Long. So with all due respect, sir, perhaps…”
“Yes, under normal circumstances I would agree,” answered Belial. “But unfortunately, what we have on our hands now is a case that I believe you have some experience with. You see, we’ve had another summoning from the Sorority of Sages.”
“Oh no,” said Khylia with a sigh. There was a time when Demonic Affairs had courted the Sorority of Sages eagerly, viewing it as a strong potential source of contracts. Only the best had been sent there, and it was considered quite a prestigious assignment at the time. But it soon became clear that the Sorority sisters had no interest in the kinds of contracts the Office of Demonic Affairs was preoccupied with. Their summonings were purely recreational: huddled groups of girls in dimly-lit bedrooms, giggling nervously and eager for the sinful enticements of forbidden pleasures. Luckily, these midnight rituals carried very little magic power behind them: they could only tether a demon to the Corporeal Plane for an hour or two, which was enough time for a succubus to pretend to have a headache until she was called back home. It was, at worst, a minor nuisance.
But recently, these summoning rituals had become much more powerful. Suddenly demons were summoned to their Sorority House for days at a time, a feat only accomplished by the most powerful demonologists in the mortal realm. Demonic Affairs had become understandably concerned, but Khylia was even more so. For the girls of the Sorority of Sages had…notable appetites. Khylia herself had only seen the tip of it, but she had known other succubi who had been summoned to the Sorority and undergone things that they absolutely refused to talk about. And it took quite a lot to rattle a succubus.
“Look, I understand how important this is,” said Khylia. “But isn’t there some other employee who can handle this damned—“
“Now, now,” tutted Belial, shaking his massive clawed finger. “You know we don’t use that word here!”
“Sorry.” Khylia rolled her eyes. “Isn’t there another goal actualizer who can handle this damned assignment?”
“Not with your unique qualifications, I’m sorry to say,” said Belial, not looking sorry at all.
“Honestly, I don’t know if I’m up for another stint on the Corporeal Plane so soon,” said Khylia. “Isn’t there another alternative?”
“Why yes, as a matter of fact, there is!” declared Belial, rubbing his hands together. “As it just so happens, I’ve been looking for someone to handle the presentation slides for our upcoming Workplace Morale Seminar! This quarter’s theme is, ‘There’s No “I” In “Team!”’”
Khylia sighed heavily. “When do I leave?”
* * * * *
It was a hot day in Port Bastion, the greatest city on the most civilized continent of the Corporeal Plane. The sweltering heat blanketed the city, with the sun’s unrelenting rays driving all but the most stalwart of citizens indoors to bask in the relative shade. Only the most industrious of pickpockets were out on the streets, but there were few pedestrians to take advantage of the uncharacteristically safe conditions. Towering above the rooftops and the mazes of alleyways stood the five most prominent buildings in the city: the grand Sorority Houses, ancient and venerable buildings which had looked over the urban sprawl beneath them for centuries with a watchful eye. These buildings were more than simply monuments, however: they were the centers of trade, the seats of political power, the very beating heart of Port Bastion itself.
The Houses were anchors of permanence in a constantly shifting city: tomorrow that block of stores might get knocked down to make way for a new road, but come what may, the Sorority Houses would remain. It was little wonder that the most talented, the most ambitious citizens of Port Bastion found their way to the five Houses eventually, eager to pledge their loyalty to these revered pillars of society.
At the center of Port Bastion's bustling center of growth was the Sorority of Builders and Artisans: a mecca for the most creative minds in the city, whose Sorority House changed almost by the week, its architecture always in flux with the newest and most avant-garde ideas in engineering. Flanking it was the Sorority of Explorers: the vanguard of knowledge into unknown lands, whose House stood as an ancient castle as venerable as the ruins its sisters explored in the wilderness. The Sorority of Sages stood nearby: an august, ivy-covered university which proclaimed its stature as a center of learning to the greatest minds of the city. And off in the shadows, cloaked in darkness in the city's lawless quarter, was the House of the Sorority of Thieves: a chaotic, jagged mass of towers and spires which stood as an affront to any kind of order, its black stone casting the pall of night over the surrounding streets and scaring away all but the bravest and most foolish. It was a safe harbor to the most dangerous elements in all the city.
But it was the fifth and final House, that of the Sorority of City Guards, which would bear witness to the beginning of a great adventure that day. The House itself loomed over the city like a guardian angel: its tall, austere towers perfectly rigid in their enforcement of the natural order. And yet, despite the Sorority's reputation for almost severe discipline, few could have guessed what was occurring inside its walls at that very moment.
* * * * * *
“Catch her!” Jeina cried gleefully as she and a contingent of her girls ran after their target. If there was one thing the Sorority of City Guards prided itself on, it was unit cohesion, but here the girls chased their prey like a ravenous pack of wildcats, rather than a disciplined phalanx. It was just as well, though, since this was hardly a routine exercise. For one, their target was one of their own.
Jeina and her girls streaked down the wide hallways of the City Guards’ House, chasing after one of their junior members. It had all started as some friendly roughhousing in the changing rooms, until one of the girls discovered a weakness that was too delicious to pass up. Now Jeina and her girls ran after their fleeing sister, all of them clad only in the skimpy thong panties bearing their Sorority’s seal: an embroidered rose with a thorny stem to remind the lucky onlooker that their girls were both beautiful and deadly. The girls’ thongs revealed a parade of toned legs and muscular bouncing buttocks as they dashed down the hallways of the Sorority, modesty completely forgotten in the heat of the moment. Long, lustrous hair of every shade streamed behind them as they ran, giggling with anticipation, their manicured hands outstretched in front of them. Everywhere naked, perfectly round breasts heaved up and down like juicy, tempting fruits begging to be plucked. Round hips bumped against each other as they scrambled past one another, each wanting to be the first to catch their target.
“EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEK!!!” One of the faster runners was the first to make contact: she reached out with a pair of well-manicured hands and squeezed the sides of the fleeing girl, causing her to explode into squeals of laughter. The attack only slowed her down for a second, but a second was all the head-start she had. In an instant, over a dozen giggling tickle-hungry girls had tackled her from behind, sending her tumbling down to the ground beneath an avalanche of sweaty, nearly-naked female bodies. In another second she was pinned at the waist, and her arms and legs were spread out and held to the ground. She struggled with all her might, but this was a fight she was not going to win.
“Ready, girls?” asked Jeina in jubilation. “Tickle her!”
Her girls didn't need to be told twice, or even once. More than one hundred probing, ravenous fingers assaulted the pinned girl's body from every direction, touching every ticklish spot on her soft, exposed skin with merciless fingernails. Fingers squeezed her sides and wrapped around her to tickle her belly, while other girls kneaded her ribs and cupped her breasts from underneath, playing with the hard nipples with gentle flicks of their fingertips. Others dug into her ticklish underarms, pressing into the pliable flesh as the poor girl fought in vain to lower her arms and protect herself. And more fingers than anyone could count scribbled across her hyper-ticklish feet, with some girls taking it upon themselves to hold her toes apart so their sisters could exploit the tender hidden undersides. It was an orgy of tickling fingers, tender flesh, and insane laughter.
In minutes, the girl could no longer even babble in broken sentences: now the screams that came from her mouth were inhuman and primal. But this only drove the sisters into a deeper frenzy. Tongues soon joined the barrage of fingers: first slurping across her warm, pink soles, then licking and nibbling up the backs of her legs to linger at the backs of her knees, and finally teasing the gentle curvature where her legs met her toned, tempting ass.
“EEEEEK!!! No fair!” squealed one of the girls on top of the pile, suddenly caught off guard by a roving pair of hands plunging into her exposed underarms.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOT MEEEHEHEHEEEE!!!” shrieked another, discovering too late that her legs were pinned and her bare feet face-up and defenseless.
In such an environment, it was inevitable that some of the fingers would reach other targets: two of the sisters would tickle each other, and this would spin off into a private tickle-fight on the side, until soon the pile of bodies was engulfed in lustful chaos, with every pair of hands grabbing whatever they could to tickle it senseless. Thongs were stripped off and cast into the air, left hanging on chandeliers while bare legs intertwined like serpents and naked asses were tickled with glee. All pitches of laughter echoed over each other, from high-pitched girlish squeals to loud, booming laughter: the only thing they all had in common was that it was the language of the wildly ticklish.
It was a good day at the Sorority.
* * * * *
“I hear I missed all the fun with your squad this afternoon,” remarked Diane as she approached Jeina.
“I prefer to think of it as team-building,” chuckled Jeina. She looked out over the ramparts of the Sorority House, gazing at the panorama of the city below and basking in the warm glow of their tickling orgy several hours ago. The girls had tickled each other until they were exhausted: the laughter eventually mixed with moans of pleasure and pleading for more, until they were too satiated to speak. Jeina would probably get a reprimand for lax discipline, but it had been worth it.
“Well now that you mention it, my squad could probably use some team-building, too,” grinned Diane as she walked up next to Jeina, leaning against the stone wall and sharing the view. Even with the blazing sun beating down incessantly on the city, there were a million dark shadows in the labyrinth of streets below, each one a haven for the dark forces that plagued the city. Jeina was a veteran who knew every twist and turn the streets had to offer: already she was going through the evening's patrol route in her head, anticipating when her squad would be sent out later that day. It was a demanding job, but it was all that kept Port Bastion secure.
“So what can I help you with?” asked Jeina. “Or are you just here to admire the view?”
“I've come to deliver a message for you,” said Diane. “You're needed. I've been told it's urgent.”
“We're about to go out on patrol,” said Jeina. “Can't it wait until later?”
“I'm afraid not,” said Diane. “You see, it's from Commander Jadiss.”
* * * * *
Jeina walked up the last few stairs of the spiral staircase, culminating in the peak of the House's tallest tower. She had only been here a few times before, and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She told herself that she had no reason to be afraid, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. It was like being a student again, being called to the superintendent's office. Jeina summoned up her courage and knocked on the ornate wooden door.
“Come in,” said a calm, reassuring voice from behind.
Jeina pushed open the door slowly, still trying to collect herself. The heavy door creaked slightly as it gave way to the office inside: a large, stately, sparsely decorated room that had very little in the way of pomp or grandeur. A large wooden desk and a set of filing cabinets, both ancient, were the most notable pieces in the room. From a brief look, one could hardly have realized that this was the office of one of the most powerful women in Port Bastion.
Commander Jadiss stood by the window of her office: calm and self-possessed, with her locks of chestnut hair gleaming in the sun. Her honorific title was Lady Jadiss, but she insisted on using the title Commander, which she rightly felt was earned instead of bestowed upon her. For she was the leader of the Sorority of City Guards: once a young recruit, she had climbed her way up through the ranks until she had reached the absolute pinnacle of achievement for the Sorority. It was difficult to tell how old she was, but she still cast a stunning form, made more impressive by the grace with which she carried herself. She still wore her uniform, eschewing the regal fineries that other women in her position might have chosen instead. As she smiled at her visitor, Jeina could already feel some of her apprehension fading.
“Commander.” Jeina acknowledged, snapping to attention.
“At ease, Sergeant,” said the Commander. “Do come in.”
“Yes, Commander.” Jeina relaxed somewhat, but she was still very conscious of who she was addressing.
“May I offer you a drink?” asked Commander Jadiss. “The girls over at the Sorority of Builders and Artisans have recently developed a marvelous device they were kind enough to share with me. I understand it uses chemical reactions to produce extreme cold, capable of freezing small amounts of water into ice. Several cubes of it makes for a remarkably refreshing glass of water. Would you like some?”
“Yes, thank you Commander,” replied Jeina shifting her weight slightly.
“Ice in the middle of summer,” mused the Commander as she placed two glasses beneath a large, gear-driven machine in the corner of the room. After several seconds of noisy labor, several cubes of ice fell from a spigot and clinked into the empty glasses. The Commander filled them up with water from a decanter on a nearby table. “The march of progress never ceases to amaze me. We owe much to the balance of power, Sergeant: it provides us with the peace we need to reach our full potential.”
“I suppose so, Commander,” replied Jeina. She took the glass of ice water graciously and took a sip.
“But I suppose you're wondering why I called you here,” continued the Commander with a smile.
“The thought had crossed my mind, Commander,” said Jeina.
“Then I'll be direct. You are no doubt aware, Sergeant, of a rather...disturbing recent change in the behavior of the Sorority of Sages. Increased aggressiveness, enhanced public presence. All in all, a distinctly unbalanced state of affairs.”
Jeina nodded: she had her ear to the street, and knew precisely what the Commander was talking about. Rivalries and pranks between the Sororities were nothing new; in fact, they were nearly as old as the Houses themselves. But recently, the balance of power had shifted in favor of the Sorority of Sages. Suddenly they knew things about their rival Houses, things no outsider was supposed to know: secret entrances, the locations of valued treasures, jealously guarded secrets passed down from one senior sister to the next. At first, the assumption was universal: they were using magic to spy on their enemies. But try as they might, no other House could find the slightest indication of magic. Magic within the walls of Port Bastion was strictly prohibited by order of the Council of Sororities, and these was no way something as powerful as a scrying spell could remain undetected by the Council. So for the meantime, their advantage remained a mystery.
“Do you know what could be causing it?” asked Jeina.
Commander Jadiss shook her head. “I have been in contact with the leadership of their Sorority, and I am afraid to say that the only information I have learned is elusive and unhelpful. Still, I was content to let this state of affairs play out, until recently. We now have credible intelligence that the Sorority of Sages has been conducting kidnappings of our sisters. I don't need to tell you that this is in direct violation of the charter between the Sororities. We cannot allow this to continue.”
“Are we certain it's them?” asked Jeina.
“Quite certain, Sergeant. And as if that weren't enough, I happen to know that the other Sororities have reached the same conclusion about their missing members. Even the Sorority of Thieves has been hit.”
Jeina looked taken aback. “How could we know if--?”
The Commander smiled indulgently. “Not everything in this city is the way it appears to be, Sergeant. I won't bore you with politics, but suffice it to say, Port Bastion does not run as smoothly as it does by accident.”
“I—suppose so,” answered Jeina. The response sounded woefully inadequate to her ears.
“Intrigue was never something that interested an old soldier like me, Sergeant,” said the Commander. “But there are times when cooperation benefits us all. I learned that the hard way. And that is why I need you. I need you on this case, Sergeant. I need you to find out what it is the Sorority of Sages is up to, and how we can put a stop to it.”
“I'd be honored, Commander,” said Jeina, subconsciously coming to attention again. “But if I might ask, why me?”
“I'm familiar with your file, Sergeant,” answered the Commander. “We need someone capable like you, who knows the streets: someone experienced enough to know the ropes, but not high-level enough to stand out in a crowd. We need someone who can blend in out in the streets and turn up a few hidden secrets about the Sorority of Sages: how and why they've been able to do what they have. And quite frankly, beyond all that, one thing the years have taught me is to trust my instincts, and they tell me that you are the woman for the job. I need you to gather information and report back to me the moment you find something. Can I count on you?”
“Absolutely, Commander,” said Jeina with a flush of pride. “I'll get started immediately. Permission to be excused?”
“Granted.” The Commander finished off her glass of ice water as the young Sergeant left her office. She smiled with approval. She had been that eager to prove herself once: she knew what it was like. As the footsteps died away down the spiral staircase, Commander Jadiss walked over to the window, and next to it where there stood a wooden perch with four carrier pigeons, each a flawless ivory white. She selected the second bird from the right. Writing out a quick note in coded shorthand, she tied the piece of parchment to the pigeon's leg and walked it over to the windowsill. She stroked its feathers, and then with a flourish of her hand she released it out into the sky with its message.
“Fly away, little one,” said the Commander as the bird disappeared from view. “We'll see if you can't set Lucaria's mind at ease.”
* * * * *
In one of the shadowy, forgotten corners of the Sorority of Sages, a single girl dressed in sage’s robes walked through the darkness with only a dim lantern to light her way. She walked through a maze of empty, distended rooms, past the dust and cobwebs, until she reached her destination. It was a small dead-end chamber with only a spiral staircase set into the floor, leading down into the blackness like a gate to the netherworld. The girl held her lantern before her and slowly began to descend.
Deep beneath the Sorority of Sages there still existed countless underground chambers: some used often for rituals, but others long forgotten. And if a sage were to come across one of these forgotten chambers, and she were very careful to conceal herself, it might make an ideal location to practice a small amount of magic without anyone ever finding out.
As the girl reached the bottom of the staircase, she was pleased to see she had reached the right location. In the center of the room was a large round pool, bubbling with a strange purple liquid that gave off thick vapors rising to the ceiling. Directly above the pool was a crossbar, and hanging from the bar for dear life were two completely naked girls. They both screamed with laughter as they tried their best to hold on to the bar, and it took a moment to see why. As the purple vapors from the pool rose up past their naked bodies, the wisps of vapor briefly coalesced into ghostly hands that stroked and tickled their naked bodies, driving them wild with every touch. And standing off to the side, watching calmly, was another girl in sage’s robes: she held up her hands to seemingly tickle the air, but every time her hands moved the ghostly hands from the vapor obeyed her commands, like a puppet-master controlling a marionette.
“STAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!!! WE’LL TALK!!! WE’LL TALK!!!” begged the two laughing girls, swinging wildly from the crossbar as they tried to squirm away from the tickling hands.
“I don’t need any more information from you, girls,” said the sage by the pool. “You’ve already told us everything we need to know. Now, it’s all about having some fun.” She brought her hands together, and immediately four ethereal hands began gently stroking their inner thighs. The girls began to scream even more loudly, gyrating their hips and kicking wildly with their legs in all directions, desperate to escape the tickling of their soft thighs.
“Why hello Gabrielle,” said the girl by the staircase after admiring the spectacle for several minutes. “You know, you should be careful about using magic, even down here.”
“Are you here just to deliver a warning, Claire?” asked Gabrielle, still absorbed in her pleasurable work. She brought up two new pairs of hands to squeeze the girls’ sides and play with their taut bellies. The girls were in tears, howling as their fingers began to slip ever so slightly.
“I’m afraid I have a message from You-Know-Who,” said Claire. “We need another bushel of serpent-thistle for the cauldron, and she wants you to get it.”
“Aww, do I have to?” pouted Gabrielle. The fingers began to walk ever so slowly up the girls’ inner thighs, encountering new and hopelessly more ticklish flesh with every passing inch. Every time a soft spot was touched, the chamber would echo with a piercing shriek, and their naked bodies would twist into an impossible position like an acrobat just to try and escape the touch of the fingers. But of course, they never could.
“NO MORE TICKLING!!! WAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!” screamed both girls, desperately trying to pull themselves back up to the bar.
“I’m afraid so,” said Claire. “You know how insistent she can get, especially when it comes to the cauldron.”
“I hope that thing is worth it,” said Gabrielle. “For all the trouble it takes to take care of it.”
At that moment, a small rock fell from the chamber ceiling, plummeting into the pool. Just as it reached the liquid’s surface, a great black tentacle reached up out of the pool and snatched the rock in mid-air, disappearing beneath the surface a moment later. Both hanging girls took one look at this and scrambled back up to the bar in a burst of adrenaline.
“What is that thing, by the way?” asked Claire.
“Oh, it’s not lethal,” said Gabrielle with a smirk. “But being caught by it can be…singularly unpleasant. Especially for the very ticklish.”
“Hmm, well in that case, perhaps we should finish these two off and get to work,” said Claire. “That is, if you don’t mind my joining you.”
“Not at all,” grinned Gabrielle.
Claire held up her hands, and four more hands coalesced out of the purple mist: hands with long fingernails that rose up to firmly grab and tickle their taut, naked asses with delight.
“OH NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!! NOT BACK THERE!!! WOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!!!”
“NOT THE ASS!!! WAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!”
The hands squeezed and tickled their firm cheeks, teasing the soft skin, and letting their fingertips gently sweep into the tender space in between the cheeks. Two ticklish asses bounced in unison in midair, while two pairs of ticklish thighs flushed red with ticklishness and arousal. A swarm of tickling fingers devoured the tender flesh with their excruciatingly soft touches, as the two sages looked on hungrily.
“MERCY!!! MERCEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!” The girls were slipping now: their palms fell below the crossbar until only their knuckles were hooked around the bar. They struggled with all their might, but the tickling was too much to bear. They could only kick the air as the purple hands tickled their cheeks without mercy, and walked even further up their inner thighs until the soft, milky flesh was so ticklish that at last…
“OHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”
And with a final touch to the girls’ soft spots, their fingers slipped from the crossbar and they plummeted down, down towards the pool of purple liquid. And like a guard waiting patiently to make an arrest, two black tentacles broke forth from the liquid with a splash and wrapped themselves around the girls’ midsections, dragging them down below the liquid as their final ticklish screams echoed through the chamber after them…
Claire smiled. “You were right, that was fun.”
Gabrielle nodded in appreciation. “Well, pleasure’s over. Now down to business.”
* * * * *
A cloud of deep purple incense filled the chamber, appearing out of nowhere in the blink of an eye. Flecks of gold in the cloud glinted in the dim lamplight, dancing like faeries of the dusk. It filled the chamber with a deep, musky perfume that spoke to dark, forbidden pleasures.
In the center of the cloud lay the body of Khylia, freshly summoned from the Demonic Plane. Her eyes were still adjusting to the light, but she could feel that she was reclining on a soft bed, decked in down pillows. The gentle caress of a gauze curtain brushed against her cheek. This was all she needed to know; instinct took over, she knew what to do.
“Glad I could make it to the party. I’m ready for a sinfully good time,” she intoned lustily in the huskiest voice she could manage. She batted her long eyelashes at nothing in particular, and gyrated her curvaceous hips for the benefit of any onlookers.
But there was no response. As the purple mist cleared, Khylia found herself in a boudoir of sorts, completely empty except for her. She lay there for a moment, glancing resentfully around with the indignation of a jilted performer. There was such a thing as professional etiquette.
After a few moments, when it became clear that no one was going to receive her, Khylia decided to get up and explore her surroundings. Except she suddenly realized that she could not. Her arms were held in padded handcuffs, chained behind her to the wall. Nothing she hadn’t seen before: some mortals could get clever with their summoning rituals. But oddly enough, her ankles were bound as well. As her eyes began adjusting to the light, she could see that her ankles were held in a pair of padded stocks at the foot of her bed. What was the meaning of…
And then Khylia looked around the rest of the room. Everywhere there were vases, cabinets, and tables full of feathers of every conceivable variety. And piled next to them were brushes, soft fur gloves, and vials of body oil. Suddenly her situation began to dawn on her.
“Oh, no.” Khylia muttered. “Oh, no, no, no.”
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