Elena was climbing. Nearing the top now, finding handholds and footholds with sure determination and building excitement. Since seeing the lonely freestanding tower on the hill outside the little town, she'd known she would have to climb it. Some might have balked at scaling the rounded tower wall, but not her. Others would go for the front door, perhaps, or avoid the place entirely, but not her. She was an expert in her craft, and she hadn't reached that status by going the easy or obvious route. Besides, to act too obviously was to gain a reputation.
She'd scouted carefully, noting that light was sometimes visible from the second or third-story windows in the early evening, but that the mysterious occupant was never up in the very early hours of the morning. She'd never seen anyone enter or leave the tower, so she had no idea just who lived there, but this was just yet another stage of the scouting. To see if she could climb the walls easily enough to proceed; not to enter, not to take... yet. But just to test.
Finally she reached the very top, the last handholds clearly visible in the moonlight. The tower, it seemed, was quite old. While it had looked perfectly rounded from a distance, the individual stones were no longer perfectly in place, and the climb had been almost disappointingly easy–inasmuch as scaling three stories of stone wall ever can be, anyway. She boosted herself over the top, sitting over the side, brushing a strand of dark hair from her eyes and tucking it behind an ear. At last she could take in the view she'd earned. Well, the view that rightly belonged to the owner of the tower, which she was presently stealing. Appropriate.
The tower atop the forested hill commanded the town from a distance, and the nearly-full moon offered just enough illumination to show the buildings as though they were toys, a child's playthings strewn about the ground far below, sometimes carefully arranged, sometimes haphazard. She wondered what that might say about the mindset of the tower's occupant. Someone who sees themselves as above it all, she wondered? Well. They'd be learning that they were just like anyone else, soon enough. Whoever they were.
She found her gaze drifting skyward, attracted by the brilliance of the twinkling stars. It was important to her to take her time, go slowly, enjoy herself. If not, well, it was all just a job, then, wasn't it? No, she had to stop and appreciate the stars. We so seldom do. Maybe if everyone took a little more time out from their busy doings--
She was startled from her thoughts by a fluttering sound not far away. A bat, perhaps? She looked around, but could see no source for the sound in the darkness. Best be getting on with it, then. Appreciation of beauty didn't earn any gold, after all.
She looked to the tower roof, frowning. Had that little trap door on the other side of the roof been sitting open all this time? Surely she hadn't missed it? It was... possible, she admitted to herself. Still, she didn't quite think so. On the other hand, if it were going to be that easy, she might forego further scouting. A little peek inside surely couldn't hurt, at the very least.
Stairs leading downward, curling around the inside of the tower wall. That figured. They quickly descended into utter darkness. She decided to risk a little light, tugging the tiny bull's-eye lantern from her pack. More stairs. Well, nothing for it... down she went, creeping silently. She passed a door, closed. That would be the third floor, of course... best not to go opening anything at this stage, not when the open door itself was so suspicious.
There was a tapestry on the stairwell wall ahead. Rich, silken, depicting some sort of armored warrior dominating a battle. It alone would probably be worth her trip, but it might be a little too identifiable. Still, in a far-off market, nothing was too identifiable. She smirked to herself and continued downwards, past more tapestries. Dragons in flight, wizards casting spells of great power... yes, a goldmine. She passed another door, this hanging open... a quick peek showed it looked like a library of some kind. Not much money in books, usually, unless they were very special. She'd have to look that over more closely before she left. She continued downwards, reaching what she figured must be the ground floor.
Hrm. A large entry hall, empty, except... there, on a central pedestal, the very largest ruby she had ever, EVER seen. The tower's front door immediately beyond. Disappointing. It wasn't the take that did it for Elena, but the challenge of getting at it. Suddenly her senses tingled with suspicious alertness... nothing was ever THAT easy. This had to be a trap. Even now, something was bearing down on her, meaning to catch her, to kill her, eat her perhaps--
There was a tiny, startled gasp from the steps above her. She whirled, pointing her light on a lone figure. She blinked. There was no monster, no guards, no warriors or mighty wizards... just a woman. Well, not "just" a woman. A startlingly-attractive woman, a raven-haired beauty, wearing an exceptionally sheer nightgown that showed tantalizing hints of curves and delicately smooth skin. She looked frozen in place, terrified, the perfect picture of vulnerability.
Well, good. Someone this rich ought to be made to feel vulnerable now and again. Confidence restored, she put a finger to her lips. "Shhhhhhh." She drew her dagger, just for effect, and the terrified woman on the steps nodded meekly. Elena found her eyes wandering speculatively over that not-quite-revealed figure. She smiled. "Easy. I'm not here to hurt anyone."
The woman on the steps nodded again, her eyes wide.
Well, maybe it could be that easy. A slow smile spread across Elena's lips. Her tone grew conspiratorial. "You're all alone, aren't you?"
"...Yes." The voice was tiny. Subdued.
Elena glanced to the giant ruby again. It still felt like a trap. "What's the deal with the rock, there?"
"F-family heirloom." The woman was backing up the stairs, now. Elena followed amiably, dagger held low, not directly menacing, but casually ready. The beauty's eyes were fixed on it, nervous. More than nervous. "Please don't hurt me?"
Elena sighed. "Don't be silly." She tucked the dagger safely away. "I just want to talk to you for a bit. Borrow some things. Share the wealth a little." She smiled, almost playful.
The beauty was still wary. "What if I won't tell you anything?"
"Well, then, we'll have to find ourselves a way to interrogate you..." Elena caught her eyes wandering over that tantalizingly-revealed figure once again as notions of just how to conduct that interrogation danced through her mind. "Let's go talk about it, hrm?"
Her captive nodded reluctantly.
Elena motioned her onward. "Well, lead the way. Up you go. What shall I call you, anyhow?"
"I'm not going to tell you my name." The declaration was calm, casually resolved.
Elena smirked as she followed that perfect behind up the stairs. "Oh, I'll bet you..."
Elena's gloating trailed off as she felt a tug at her right pantleg. Nothing seemed to be there to cause it, at first glance. "What the...?" She shined the lantern all around, seeing nothing. "Huh."
She resumed her ascent. This time, the tug came at her left boot mid-step. Still no sign of a cause. She frowned, took another step. The breastwrap under her top loosened almost imperceptably. Almost. Elena's hand strayed reflexively for her dagger, only to find the dagger pulling free of its sheath and floating away. "HEY!"
"Problem, thiefling?" The beautiful tower resident's voice was no longer afraid, not in the least bit. It was instead rather silky, sultry, confident.
Elena bit her lip. "What, ah, exactly is...?"
The dagger fell, clattering to the steps. Elena stepped back, quickly turning to retrieve it, but it skittered and fell another two steps. She sprang after it, but her belt unbuckled itself, and her free hand streaked to grab hold before anything else flew away. The dagger suddenly launched itself into the darkness below, clattering distantly on the first floor. Elena turned to the tower's owner, glaring, quickly fixing her belt. "Alright, spellcaster. If that's the way you want to play things, let's do this."
Elena was fit and well-trained. She had few weaknesses; dangerous as your average wizard could be, she didn't need a dagger to overpower one at close quarters. She climbed the steps, determined. When she got her hands on the little minx, she'd-- lose her train of thought entirely as her breastwrap came completely loose, swirling lazily around underneath her shirt, lightly caressing her back and sides, then casually slithering over her ribs. She halted her advance, dumbfounded.
The witch stood watching, eyebrow raised, expression playfully innocent. "You spoke of interrogations? Oh, and it's sorceress, not witch."
The edge of the rebellious cloth teased the underside of Elena's breast, and she shivered, grabbing for it with her free hand, trying to pin it in place. "Whatever." She scowled. The very last thing she needed was for the sorceress to learn about-- and something sliced the strap of her backpack, leaving it hanging awkwardly from one side. Whirling, Elena saw her own dagger streak off into the darkness again. She turned back to the caster, shining her light on the now-smirking face. "You know, I think I had it right the first time."
"Well, there's no need to be insulting. And don't worry, I already know about..."
The trapped breastwrap suddenly wriggled and danced under Elena's pinning grip. The fluttering over her ribs forced a giggle.
"That." The smirk was unbearable.
Elena was fit and well-trained. She had few weaknesses. This... was unquestionably one of them. With only a split second's hesitation, she turned and bolted, flying down the stairs just as quickly as she could, still trying to pin the traitorous undergarment. Something flashed in her lantern's light and with a quick zip the other strap of her pack was cut. She stopped to retrieve it, crouching.
The sorceress was walking casually down the steps, bare feet padding easily over cold stone. Overconfident, this one. Elena had been in worse situations; she came prepared. As she crouched to retrieve her pack, her hand strayed into her boot, pulling a backup dagger. She stood suddenly, poised to throw, and--
"Ah-ah. Tsk."
A sharp point was resting in the small of Elena's back. That... would be her other backup dagger. Swell.
"I'd drop that, if I were you. You're not here to hurt anyone, after all." The casual mockery in that silken tone was infuriating.
The daggerpoint started to drag itself slowly up her spine, pressing close, never drawing blood, never even painful... but Elena could feel the lacing giving way to the blade. Elena had carefully selected this top. It was muted black and laced up ever so impractically in back; Elena knew it was questionable, an affectation, but she also knew that on the very very rare occasion she was caught by a wary gentleman mark, the obvious distractions afforded by an ever-so-tight top could be invaluable. The sorceress also seemed interested, but as the laces were slowly cut by her own blade, Elena didn't find the situation so very advantageous after all. She let go of her dagger, watching it float away into the darkness.
She found herself blushing, and reacted with a startled grab when she felt her belt unbuckle again. That freed her breastwrap to continue its gentle meanderings, dragging itself in a playful figure-eight around Elena's chest. "Okay, listen," she tried, "You've made your point."
The sorceress nodded, her smirk growing a tad as the dagger pressed just a little more tightly on 'point.' Elena gritted her teeth, preparing to negotiate, when a corner of the naughty little cloth in the remnant of her top swirled wickedly over a nipple. Utterly unprepared, Elena gasped, her eyes widening.
She also dropped her lantern. By some happy miracle it didn't break, but it did go skittering down the stairs, its carefully-shielded and directed bull's-eye light strobing the scene on the stairwell as the lantern spun, rattling to the first floor below.
"Hm," purred the sorceress. "Good thing some of us can see in the dark. What's this?"
Elena grabbed the breastwrap, tearing it out from under her top and throwing it aside, not noticing as a pouch tugged itself free of her belt. "Look, I'll go! I'll forget I ever saw the place." Her tone bore a hint of unaccustomed pleading, but she was still proud. A master-thief caught and overmatched, that was all.
The sorceress chuckled softly. "No, we can't have you forgetting. I'd like you to rememmmmber."
Elena backed down the steps, blind, slow, being very careful. "Come on, now. Nobody knows but me, you're safe, and--"
"Of course I'm safe. What an absurd thing to say. Of the two of us here, who feels unsafe?" There was a metallic rattle as many tiny objects were dropped to the stairs. The sorceress' voice took on a mockingly disappointed tone. "Awwww. No gemstones in this pouch. Caltrops, hm? Are they helping you escape?"
Elena realized the stairs were littered with the small, spiky bits of metal meant to slow pursuers. She was blind on a set of unfamiliar stairs that were now caltropped, her own dagger poking gently into her back, slicing the last of the laces on her top. She did not feel safe. But she was a master!
Quickly, she twisted free of the dagger's touch and hurled herself blindly down the stairs, tucking and rolling, relying on memory and long experience. She reached the bottom with barely a bruise to show for it, scooping up her fallen lantern and making a mad dash for the tower's front door. She ran straight around the pedestal with the giant ruby –almost unquestionably a trap, and escape was absolutely the priority, here.
Her belt slithered free and wrapped her legs, staggering her, but she tore it free and threw it blindly across the room. Reaching the door, she tugged it open, and tasted fresh air and freedom for half a second before the door slammed shut with force enough to rip free of her grasp. She heard it lock itself, and turned to face her tormentor.
The sorceress rewarded her with a slow clap, mocking applause as she glided back into the light. She was hovering midair, now, no longer clad in the nightgown but instead wrapped in a dress formed of black smoke that seemed to eagerly devour the light. Formless and hazy, it nonetheless hugged the woman's curves in all the right ways. Smoke never looked so good.
Elena bit her lip again, her back to the door, hand held across the remnants of her top, keeping it in place as she edged along to the side. "What do you want?"
"I wannnnt... to play. To in-terr-ro-gate."
That smirk on those lips... Elena shivered.
"You thought it, yourself. It's not the catch that matters, it's the thrill of the chase. Run, thiefling."
Elena tried the door one last time, finding it solidly locked. She cursed under her breath and ran, heading for the stairs again, taking them two at a time, her scattered caltrops shining brightly in the light of her precious lantern. She skipped deftly around them, mind racing. Maybe I can squeeze out the second-floor window...
Just as the plan was hatched, Elena was startled by ghostly teases up and down her spine. There were several feather-light touches, and she arched her back reflexively to get away from them. Her boot caught on a step and she fell to her hands and knees, still scrambling up the steps.
Laces. They were several of the sliced laces of her own top, dancing under whatever unseen force the sorceress used to torment her, and something was tugging at her boots, now.... she balled her feet and continued her crazed scramble. The boots tugged, tugged again, but didn't budge. Aha! Whatever she's doing, it has its limits, at least!
Buoyed by the little victory, Elena regained her feet and dashed into the library she'd seen on the tower's second floor. It was lit with soft candlelight, now, and the door slammed shut and locked behind her. There was the faintest pop!, a sense of unreality for a fraction of a second, and now the sorceress stood before her where there had been only empty air.
"This is quite possibly the worst direction you could've--"
The sorceress ducked as Elena quickly snatched a book from the nearby shelves and pitched it for all she was worth. She missed, but smirked at disrupting the villainous monologue.
"The worst direction you could have come." The sorceress straightened, eyes (figuratively) blazing, her smoky gown briefly lit from within by a sudden roar of flame that died as quickly as it started. "You're going to pay dearly for that." Her voice was calm and certain, but quick as mercury her expression had turned playful as could be, wicked, alive with promise.
"Look, just sssstGAAAH!" Elena gasped and arched again as the ends of her laces flittered devilishly over the small of her back. She swatted behind her, dropping her lantern again, seriously weighing the benefits of modesty versus the prospect of freedom from the traitorous lacing. She managed to turn full circle trying to catch and pin the laces, only to have more start teasing midway along her fingers. One coiled and wrapped lightly around a wrist, causing Elena to yelp and hurriedly jerk her hand free.
The sorceress giggled gleefully. "From self-proclaimed master-thief to puppy chasing her own tail in no time at all."
Elena glared murderously, launching herself at her tormentor. The sorceress quickstepped away from the initial lunge, then stood her ground.
"Oh, yes, that's right. You can overpower any spellcaster in personal combat, can't you?" The witch put up her fists in a mocking immitation of a fighter's stance, bouncing lightly on her feet. "Come on, then."
It was the smirk. The intolerable, unbearable, infuriating smirk. Elena lunged again, not caring that her leather pants were starting to undo themselves, just needing to get her hands on the wicked witch of the tower. Her hands sank through the smoky gown, finding hips, squeezing. The sorceress laughed aloud, twisting in Elena's grasp, and Elena grinned victoriously.
"Now we'll see how YOU lihiihiike--!" She ended on a squeal. Something had grazed over her side as it darted into her top from the sliced-open back, tracing a lightning-quick line upward and then digging sharply into her underarm, swirling and scribbling. Reeling and laughing, she whirled to find herself surrounded.
Quills. She wasn't just in a library, she was in a study, and quills floated from tables and cabinets, joining a menacing swarm that closed in rapidly even as the first of them wrote madly in her underarm. Cursing again, Elena tore the animate feather from her top and looked desperately around, spying the window along the opposite wall. Clutching at her pants even as they started to slide away over her hips, she made a frantic sprint for her exit, knowing every step of the way that...
It was too small. Hardly more than an arrow slit, really, and trim as she was, Elena would never fit through. She tried, anyhow, thrusting her arms before her, trying to wriggle out through sheer force of will, but there was just nothing doing. Eleana squealed and laughed as the quills caught up to her, some dancing their feathery blades up her sides, some "writing" in mystic patterns along her back, her stomach, lower into the undone pants. She collapsed into helpless hysterics as two stiff feathertips swirled around stiffening nipples, and squealed in frustrated disbelief as her back arched of its own accord when two more quills drew sharp parallel lines up her spine.
Writhing on the floor, Elena desperately tried to block, to cover sensitive places, to swat the quills away, to squirm free, anything to escape. The touches were too many, the vulnerabilities numerous, and--
"You just don't have enough hands, do you?" The sorceress chuckled softly.
Elena laughed, her trim body's limits being tested by the unceasing torments. She was, however, dimly aware of the inexorable slide of her pants down her legs, especially as this opened terribly vulnerable inner thighs to long, wicked featherstrokes. She knew, somewhere in the very back of her mind, that her top was easing its way free once and for all. She even knew, with certain finality, that she was losing both of her boots to a slow, constant pull she could do nothing about.
As each item pulled free, the tickles got a little more gentle, until at last she was wearing only the delicate lacy black panties, ahead of their time, that had cost Elena a fortune in someone else's money for the work of an avant-garde artisan in a distant capital. A lone quill spiralled around her navel, leaving her giggling, recovering her breath slowly, hazy.
She watched in dazed disbelief as one boot, then the other, glided out the narrow slitted window, her dagger-ravaged top close behind, her pants... all fell, one by one, out of sight, lost and gone forever. Feathers nestled themselves between her second and third toes on each foot, lazily sawing their blades there... the sensation was indescribable, a gentle, sure touch somewhere Elena was extremely unused to being touched, short-circuiting all her training, her escape plans, the mere privilege of thought. Elena giggled helplessly, squirrrrrming in her pretty panties, as the sorceress looked on.
"Well, now. Those are very nice. Perhaps we'll let you keep them a while. But it's time to start your interrogation."
Elena bit her lip sharply, scooting away from the wicked sorceress, knowing it was hopeless, quivering with new sensations.
"Your name, please. What is it?" The sorceress' voice was casual, almost sweet.
"Christina."
Instantly, there were quills writing across her soles, in her arches, over her stomach.
"W.... R....O....N...G!" Each letter stroked itself with painstaking calligraphy. Elena shrieked piteously, swatting away any quill she could catch, only to have them return, bent on their tasks, needing to start over every time they were disturbed. At last, at long last she learned not to fight them, or perhaps simply grew too exhausted, and the word was complete. Elena lay gasping.
"What's your name?"
"...Elena." She squirrrrrmed on the library floor, marveling at the feelings this humiliating experience was drawing out of her.
The sorceress smirked. "Goooood. Truth at last. Now, take those off. You were dishonest, so you don't get to keep them after all."
Elena hesitated. A feather twirrrrled between her toes and she squealed, weakly easing her panties down and off, letting go and scooting away from them, from the feathers' relentless touch, followed every inch of the way now by two feathers between her toes, two spiraling their tips ever so softly around the tips of her nipples, a constant quilled spiral tightening and widening around her navel. She gasped, fighting the temptation to arch her back and present herself to the feathers.
"Better. Now, we're going to crawl up the stairs. I've found the most interesting things in your pack, and you're going to tell me alllll about them..."
Elena hung her head, rising to her hands and knees, trembling. She was, she admitted to herself, desperately wound up by her downfall. She knew the sorceress must know, and a silken chuckle confirmed it as the fleeting thought was easily accessed and casually read by her new mistress.
Elena's head came up sharply, then, as a new touch presented itself. A feathertip dancing lightly in the space between spaces, her perineum occupied and instantly conquered by the tiniest quiver. Lightningbolts danced across her vision as she gasped. It was... incredibly motivating. She craaawled for the door, slow, certain that the feathers would hold her imprisoned...
She held her head up and watched as her daggers tugged her expensive, innovative panties into view, then slowly sliced them to shreds. Scraps and daggers alike suddenly flashed out the window, and Elena hung her head again, blushing, crawling... grinning.
"Gone is the master thief, the woman of action. Now there's just you. Just Elena. You're not so much of a puppy after all. More of a... kitten. Hrrrrrrm?"
Elena burned mutely, making no response. The bracelet on her left wrist tugged free. The tiny silver anklet she wore just for a bit of shine unclasped and flew away. The ring covertly identifying her as a member of her guild wiggled, danced, and disappeared, zipping out the window and dropping to the earth below.
"Oh, yes, we WILL talk about your guild. You will name names. You'll tell me all about where you come from, any little secrets you have. What else arouses you beyond a quiet tickle and a dose of well-earned humiliation. You will shaaaare."
And Elena, stripped bare and yet blazing warm from the curves of her ears to the tips of her toes, knew that she would. She crawled onward, feathers 'tween her toes, quills digging softly into her arches, tips of her nipples throbbing into contact with the tips of more feathers, the tiniest intimate touches in nameless places eliciting giggles, whimpers, shameless moans.
She had no way of knowing that she would spend the evening and much of the following day bound to the sorceress' bed with her own ropes, nor that the most intimate and sensitive portions of her anatomy would be delicately touched and stroked by the cool metal of her own lockpicks, teased through one last poetic humiliation 'til she was past desperation, past begging, well into promising all kinds of depraved and eager favors. Services. Promises. Commitments.
And then... as cooperation turned to reward, after reward, after reward, as afternoon sun faded along the walls of the sorceress' bedchambers, taking on the slant of sunset... Elena suddenly found herself turned loose, collecting the scattered scraps of her clothing as she crawled along the ground outside, still giggling mindlessly.
"Remember," came a whisper in her mind, "If you ever come back, you will face the consequences."
Elena smiled softly. The warning had precisely the intended effect; she turned and studied the tower wall for handholds.
She'd scouted carefully, noting that light was sometimes visible from the second or third-story windows in the early evening, but that the mysterious occupant was never up in the very early hours of the morning. She'd never seen anyone enter or leave the tower, so she had no idea just who lived there, but this was just yet another stage of the scouting. To see if she could climb the walls easily enough to proceed; not to enter, not to take... yet. But just to test.
Finally she reached the very top, the last handholds clearly visible in the moonlight. The tower, it seemed, was quite old. While it had looked perfectly rounded from a distance, the individual stones were no longer perfectly in place, and the climb had been almost disappointingly easy–inasmuch as scaling three stories of stone wall ever can be, anyway. She boosted herself over the top, sitting over the side, brushing a strand of dark hair from her eyes and tucking it behind an ear. At last she could take in the view she'd earned. Well, the view that rightly belonged to the owner of the tower, which she was presently stealing. Appropriate.
The tower atop the forested hill commanded the town from a distance, and the nearly-full moon offered just enough illumination to show the buildings as though they were toys, a child's playthings strewn about the ground far below, sometimes carefully arranged, sometimes haphazard. She wondered what that might say about the mindset of the tower's occupant. Someone who sees themselves as above it all, she wondered? Well. They'd be learning that they were just like anyone else, soon enough. Whoever they were.
She found her gaze drifting skyward, attracted by the brilliance of the twinkling stars. It was important to her to take her time, go slowly, enjoy herself. If not, well, it was all just a job, then, wasn't it? No, she had to stop and appreciate the stars. We so seldom do. Maybe if everyone took a little more time out from their busy doings--
She was startled from her thoughts by a fluttering sound not far away. A bat, perhaps? She looked around, but could see no source for the sound in the darkness. Best be getting on with it, then. Appreciation of beauty didn't earn any gold, after all.
She looked to the tower roof, frowning. Had that little trap door on the other side of the roof been sitting open all this time? Surely she hadn't missed it? It was... possible, she admitted to herself. Still, she didn't quite think so. On the other hand, if it were going to be that easy, she might forego further scouting. A little peek inside surely couldn't hurt, at the very least.
Stairs leading downward, curling around the inside of the tower wall. That figured. They quickly descended into utter darkness. She decided to risk a little light, tugging the tiny bull's-eye lantern from her pack. More stairs. Well, nothing for it... down she went, creeping silently. She passed a door, closed. That would be the third floor, of course... best not to go opening anything at this stage, not when the open door itself was so suspicious.
There was a tapestry on the stairwell wall ahead. Rich, silken, depicting some sort of armored warrior dominating a battle. It alone would probably be worth her trip, but it might be a little too identifiable. Still, in a far-off market, nothing was too identifiable. She smirked to herself and continued downwards, past more tapestries. Dragons in flight, wizards casting spells of great power... yes, a goldmine. She passed another door, this hanging open... a quick peek showed it looked like a library of some kind. Not much money in books, usually, unless they were very special. She'd have to look that over more closely before she left. She continued downwards, reaching what she figured must be the ground floor.
Hrm. A large entry hall, empty, except... there, on a central pedestal, the very largest ruby she had ever, EVER seen. The tower's front door immediately beyond. Disappointing. It wasn't the take that did it for Elena, but the challenge of getting at it. Suddenly her senses tingled with suspicious alertness... nothing was ever THAT easy. This had to be a trap. Even now, something was bearing down on her, meaning to catch her, to kill her, eat her perhaps--
There was a tiny, startled gasp from the steps above her. She whirled, pointing her light on a lone figure. She blinked. There was no monster, no guards, no warriors or mighty wizards... just a woman. Well, not "just" a woman. A startlingly-attractive woman, a raven-haired beauty, wearing an exceptionally sheer nightgown that showed tantalizing hints of curves and delicately smooth skin. She looked frozen in place, terrified, the perfect picture of vulnerability.
Well, good. Someone this rich ought to be made to feel vulnerable now and again. Confidence restored, she put a finger to her lips. "Shhhhhhh." She drew her dagger, just for effect, and the terrified woman on the steps nodded meekly. Elena found her eyes wandering speculatively over that not-quite-revealed figure. She smiled. "Easy. I'm not here to hurt anyone."
The woman on the steps nodded again, her eyes wide.
Well, maybe it could be that easy. A slow smile spread across Elena's lips. Her tone grew conspiratorial. "You're all alone, aren't you?"
"...Yes." The voice was tiny. Subdued.
Elena glanced to the giant ruby again. It still felt like a trap. "What's the deal with the rock, there?"
"F-family heirloom." The woman was backing up the stairs, now. Elena followed amiably, dagger held low, not directly menacing, but casually ready. The beauty's eyes were fixed on it, nervous. More than nervous. "Please don't hurt me?"
Elena sighed. "Don't be silly." She tucked the dagger safely away. "I just want to talk to you for a bit. Borrow some things. Share the wealth a little." She smiled, almost playful.
The beauty was still wary. "What if I won't tell you anything?"
"Well, then, we'll have to find ourselves a way to interrogate you..." Elena caught her eyes wandering over that tantalizingly-revealed figure once again as notions of just how to conduct that interrogation danced through her mind. "Let's go talk about it, hrm?"
Her captive nodded reluctantly.
Elena motioned her onward. "Well, lead the way. Up you go. What shall I call you, anyhow?"
"I'm not going to tell you my name." The declaration was calm, casually resolved.
Elena smirked as she followed that perfect behind up the stairs. "Oh, I'll bet you..."
Elena's gloating trailed off as she felt a tug at her right pantleg. Nothing seemed to be there to cause it, at first glance. "What the...?" She shined the lantern all around, seeing nothing. "Huh."
She resumed her ascent. This time, the tug came at her left boot mid-step. Still no sign of a cause. She frowned, took another step. The breastwrap under her top loosened almost imperceptably. Almost. Elena's hand strayed reflexively for her dagger, only to find the dagger pulling free of its sheath and floating away. "HEY!"
"Problem, thiefling?" The beautiful tower resident's voice was no longer afraid, not in the least bit. It was instead rather silky, sultry, confident.
Elena bit her lip. "What, ah, exactly is...?"
The dagger fell, clattering to the steps. Elena stepped back, quickly turning to retrieve it, but it skittered and fell another two steps. She sprang after it, but her belt unbuckled itself, and her free hand streaked to grab hold before anything else flew away. The dagger suddenly launched itself into the darkness below, clattering distantly on the first floor. Elena turned to the tower's owner, glaring, quickly fixing her belt. "Alright, spellcaster. If that's the way you want to play things, let's do this."
Elena was fit and well-trained. She had few weaknesses; dangerous as your average wizard could be, she didn't need a dagger to overpower one at close quarters. She climbed the steps, determined. When she got her hands on the little minx, she'd-- lose her train of thought entirely as her breastwrap came completely loose, swirling lazily around underneath her shirt, lightly caressing her back and sides, then casually slithering over her ribs. She halted her advance, dumbfounded.
The witch stood watching, eyebrow raised, expression playfully innocent. "You spoke of interrogations? Oh, and it's sorceress, not witch."
The edge of the rebellious cloth teased the underside of Elena's breast, and she shivered, grabbing for it with her free hand, trying to pin it in place. "Whatever." She scowled. The very last thing she needed was for the sorceress to learn about-- and something sliced the strap of her backpack, leaving it hanging awkwardly from one side. Whirling, Elena saw her own dagger streak off into the darkness again. She turned back to the caster, shining her light on the now-smirking face. "You know, I think I had it right the first time."
"Well, there's no need to be insulting. And don't worry, I already know about..."
The trapped breastwrap suddenly wriggled and danced under Elena's pinning grip. The fluttering over her ribs forced a giggle.
"That." The smirk was unbearable.
Elena was fit and well-trained. She had few weaknesses. This... was unquestionably one of them. With only a split second's hesitation, she turned and bolted, flying down the stairs just as quickly as she could, still trying to pin the traitorous undergarment. Something flashed in her lantern's light and with a quick zip the other strap of her pack was cut. She stopped to retrieve it, crouching.
The sorceress was walking casually down the steps, bare feet padding easily over cold stone. Overconfident, this one. Elena had been in worse situations; she came prepared. As she crouched to retrieve her pack, her hand strayed into her boot, pulling a backup dagger. She stood suddenly, poised to throw, and--
"Ah-ah. Tsk."
A sharp point was resting in the small of Elena's back. That... would be her other backup dagger. Swell.
"I'd drop that, if I were you. You're not here to hurt anyone, after all." The casual mockery in that silken tone was infuriating.
The daggerpoint started to drag itself slowly up her spine, pressing close, never drawing blood, never even painful... but Elena could feel the lacing giving way to the blade. Elena had carefully selected this top. It was muted black and laced up ever so impractically in back; Elena knew it was questionable, an affectation, but she also knew that on the very very rare occasion she was caught by a wary gentleman mark, the obvious distractions afforded by an ever-so-tight top could be invaluable. The sorceress also seemed interested, but as the laces were slowly cut by her own blade, Elena didn't find the situation so very advantageous after all. She let go of her dagger, watching it float away into the darkness.
She found herself blushing, and reacted with a startled grab when she felt her belt unbuckle again. That freed her breastwrap to continue its gentle meanderings, dragging itself in a playful figure-eight around Elena's chest. "Okay, listen," she tried, "You've made your point."
The sorceress nodded, her smirk growing a tad as the dagger pressed just a little more tightly on 'point.' Elena gritted her teeth, preparing to negotiate, when a corner of the naughty little cloth in the remnant of her top swirled wickedly over a nipple. Utterly unprepared, Elena gasped, her eyes widening.
She also dropped her lantern. By some happy miracle it didn't break, but it did go skittering down the stairs, its carefully-shielded and directed bull's-eye light strobing the scene on the stairwell as the lantern spun, rattling to the first floor below.
"Hm," purred the sorceress. "Good thing some of us can see in the dark. What's this?"
Elena grabbed the breastwrap, tearing it out from under her top and throwing it aside, not noticing as a pouch tugged itself free of her belt. "Look, I'll go! I'll forget I ever saw the place." Her tone bore a hint of unaccustomed pleading, but she was still proud. A master-thief caught and overmatched, that was all.
The sorceress chuckled softly. "No, we can't have you forgetting. I'd like you to rememmmmber."
Elena backed down the steps, blind, slow, being very careful. "Come on, now. Nobody knows but me, you're safe, and--"
"Of course I'm safe. What an absurd thing to say. Of the two of us here, who feels unsafe?" There was a metallic rattle as many tiny objects were dropped to the stairs. The sorceress' voice took on a mockingly disappointed tone. "Awwww. No gemstones in this pouch. Caltrops, hm? Are they helping you escape?"
Elena realized the stairs were littered with the small, spiky bits of metal meant to slow pursuers. She was blind on a set of unfamiliar stairs that were now caltropped, her own dagger poking gently into her back, slicing the last of the laces on her top. She did not feel safe. But she was a master!
Quickly, she twisted free of the dagger's touch and hurled herself blindly down the stairs, tucking and rolling, relying on memory and long experience. She reached the bottom with barely a bruise to show for it, scooping up her fallen lantern and making a mad dash for the tower's front door. She ran straight around the pedestal with the giant ruby –almost unquestionably a trap, and escape was absolutely the priority, here.
Her belt slithered free and wrapped her legs, staggering her, but she tore it free and threw it blindly across the room. Reaching the door, she tugged it open, and tasted fresh air and freedom for half a second before the door slammed shut with force enough to rip free of her grasp. She heard it lock itself, and turned to face her tormentor.
The sorceress rewarded her with a slow clap, mocking applause as she glided back into the light. She was hovering midair, now, no longer clad in the nightgown but instead wrapped in a dress formed of black smoke that seemed to eagerly devour the light. Formless and hazy, it nonetheless hugged the woman's curves in all the right ways. Smoke never looked so good.
Elena bit her lip again, her back to the door, hand held across the remnants of her top, keeping it in place as she edged along to the side. "What do you want?"
"I wannnnt... to play. To in-terr-ro-gate."
That smirk on those lips... Elena shivered.
"You thought it, yourself. It's not the catch that matters, it's the thrill of the chase. Run, thiefling."
Elena tried the door one last time, finding it solidly locked. She cursed under her breath and ran, heading for the stairs again, taking them two at a time, her scattered caltrops shining brightly in the light of her precious lantern. She skipped deftly around them, mind racing. Maybe I can squeeze out the second-floor window...
Just as the plan was hatched, Elena was startled by ghostly teases up and down her spine. There were several feather-light touches, and she arched her back reflexively to get away from them. Her boot caught on a step and she fell to her hands and knees, still scrambling up the steps.
Laces. They were several of the sliced laces of her own top, dancing under whatever unseen force the sorceress used to torment her, and something was tugging at her boots, now.... she balled her feet and continued her crazed scramble. The boots tugged, tugged again, but didn't budge. Aha! Whatever she's doing, it has its limits, at least!
Buoyed by the little victory, Elena regained her feet and dashed into the library she'd seen on the tower's second floor. It was lit with soft candlelight, now, and the door slammed shut and locked behind her. There was the faintest pop!, a sense of unreality for a fraction of a second, and now the sorceress stood before her where there had been only empty air.
"This is quite possibly the worst direction you could've--"
The sorceress ducked as Elena quickly snatched a book from the nearby shelves and pitched it for all she was worth. She missed, but smirked at disrupting the villainous monologue.
"The worst direction you could have come." The sorceress straightened, eyes (figuratively) blazing, her smoky gown briefly lit from within by a sudden roar of flame that died as quickly as it started. "You're going to pay dearly for that." Her voice was calm and certain, but quick as mercury her expression had turned playful as could be, wicked, alive with promise.
"Look, just sssstGAAAH!" Elena gasped and arched again as the ends of her laces flittered devilishly over the small of her back. She swatted behind her, dropping her lantern again, seriously weighing the benefits of modesty versus the prospect of freedom from the traitorous lacing. She managed to turn full circle trying to catch and pin the laces, only to have more start teasing midway along her fingers. One coiled and wrapped lightly around a wrist, causing Elena to yelp and hurriedly jerk her hand free.
The sorceress giggled gleefully. "From self-proclaimed master-thief to puppy chasing her own tail in no time at all."
Elena glared murderously, launching herself at her tormentor. The sorceress quickstepped away from the initial lunge, then stood her ground.
"Oh, yes, that's right. You can overpower any spellcaster in personal combat, can't you?" The witch put up her fists in a mocking immitation of a fighter's stance, bouncing lightly on her feet. "Come on, then."
It was the smirk. The intolerable, unbearable, infuriating smirk. Elena lunged again, not caring that her leather pants were starting to undo themselves, just needing to get her hands on the wicked witch of the tower. Her hands sank through the smoky gown, finding hips, squeezing. The sorceress laughed aloud, twisting in Elena's grasp, and Elena grinned victoriously.
"Now we'll see how YOU lihiihiike--!" She ended on a squeal. Something had grazed over her side as it darted into her top from the sliced-open back, tracing a lightning-quick line upward and then digging sharply into her underarm, swirling and scribbling. Reeling and laughing, she whirled to find herself surrounded.
Quills. She wasn't just in a library, she was in a study, and quills floated from tables and cabinets, joining a menacing swarm that closed in rapidly even as the first of them wrote madly in her underarm. Cursing again, Elena tore the animate feather from her top and looked desperately around, spying the window along the opposite wall. Clutching at her pants even as they started to slide away over her hips, she made a frantic sprint for her exit, knowing every step of the way that...
It was too small. Hardly more than an arrow slit, really, and trim as she was, Elena would never fit through. She tried, anyhow, thrusting her arms before her, trying to wriggle out through sheer force of will, but there was just nothing doing. Eleana squealed and laughed as the quills caught up to her, some dancing their feathery blades up her sides, some "writing" in mystic patterns along her back, her stomach, lower into the undone pants. She collapsed into helpless hysterics as two stiff feathertips swirled around stiffening nipples, and squealed in frustrated disbelief as her back arched of its own accord when two more quills drew sharp parallel lines up her spine.
Writhing on the floor, Elena desperately tried to block, to cover sensitive places, to swat the quills away, to squirm free, anything to escape. The touches were too many, the vulnerabilities numerous, and--
"You just don't have enough hands, do you?" The sorceress chuckled softly.
Elena laughed, her trim body's limits being tested by the unceasing torments. She was, however, dimly aware of the inexorable slide of her pants down her legs, especially as this opened terribly vulnerable inner thighs to long, wicked featherstrokes. She knew, somewhere in the very back of her mind, that her top was easing its way free once and for all. She even knew, with certain finality, that she was losing both of her boots to a slow, constant pull she could do nothing about.
As each item pulled free, the tickles got a little more gentle, until at last she was wearing only the delicate lacy black panties, ahead of their time, that had cost Elena a fortune in someone else's money for the work of an avant-garde artisan in a distant capital. A lone quill spiralled around her navel, leaving her giggling, recovering her breath slowly, hazy.
She watched in dazed disbelief as one boot, then the other, glided out the narrow slitted window, her dagger-ravaged top close behind, her pants... all fell, one by one, out of sight, lost and gone forever. Feathers nestled themselves between her second and third toes on each foot, lazily sawing their blades there... the sensation was indescribable, a gentle, sure touch somewhere Elena was extremely unused to being touched, short-circuiting all her training, her escape plans, the mere privilege of thought. Elena giggled helplessly, squirrrrrming in her pretty panties, as the sorceress looked on.
"Well, now. Those are very nice. Perhaps we'll let you keep them a while. But it's time to start your interrogation."
Elena bit her lip sharply, scooting away from the wicked sorceress, knowing it was hopeless, quivering with new sensations.
"Your name, please. What is it?" The sorceress' voice was casual, almost sweet.
"Christina."
Instantly, there were quills writing across her soles, in her arches, over her stomach.
"W.... R....O....N...G!" Each letter stroked itself with painstaking calligraphy. Elena shrieked piteously, swatting away any quill she could catch, only to have them return, bent on their tasks, needing to start over every time they were disturbed. At last, at long last she learned not to fight them, or perhaps simply grew too exhausted, and the word was complete. Elena lay gasping.
"What's your name?"
"...Elena." She squirrrrrmed on the library floor, marveling at the feelings this humiliating experience was drawing out of her.
The sorceress smirked. "Goooood. Truth at last. Now, take those off. You were dishonest, so you don't get to keep them after all."
Elena hesitated. A feather twirrrrled between her toes and she squealed, weakly easing her panties down and off, letting go and scooting away from them, from the feathers' relentless touch, followed every inch of the way now by two feathers between her toes, two spiraling their tips ever so softly around the tips of her nipples, a constant quilled spiral tightening and widening around her navel. She gasped, fighting the temptation to arch her back and present herself to the feathers.
"Better. Now, we're going to crawl up the stairs. I've found the most interesting things in your pack, and you're going to tell me alllll about them..."
Elena hung her head, rising to her hands and knees, trembling. She was, she admitted to herself, desperately wound up by her downfall. She knew the sorceress must know, and a silken chuckle confirmed it as the fleeting thought was easily accessed and casually read by her new mistress.
Elena's head came up sharply, then, as a new touch presented itself. A feathertip dancing lightly in the space between spaces, her perineum occupied and instantly conquered by the tiniest quiver. Lightningbolts danced across her vision as she gasped. It was... incredibly motivating. She craaawled for the door, slow, certain that the feathers would hold her imprisoned...
She held her head up and watched as her daggers tugged her expensive, innovative panties into view, then slowly sliced them to shreds. Scraps and daggers alike suddenly flashed out the window, and Elena hung her head again, blushing, crawling... grinning.
"Gone is the master thief, the woman of action. Now there's just you. Just Elena. You're not so much of a puppy after all. More of a... kitten. Hrrrrrrm?"
Elena burned mutely, making no response. The bracelet on her left wrist tugged free. The tiny silver anklet she wore just for a bit of shine unclasped and flew away. The ring covertly identifying her as a member of her guild wiggled, danced, and disappeared, zipping out the window and dropping to the earth below.
"Oh, yes, we WILL talk about your guild. You will name names. You'll tell me all about where you come from, any little secrets you have. What else arouses you beyond a quiet tickle and a dose of well-earned humiliation. You will shaaaare."
And Elena, stripped bare and yet blazing warm from the curves of her ears to the tips of her toes, knew that she would. She crawled onward, feathers 'tween her toes, quills digging softly into her arches, tips of her nipples throbbing into contact with the tips of more feathers, the tiniest intimate touches in nameless places eliciting giggles, whimpers, shameless moans.
She had no way of knowing that she would spend the evening and much of the following day bound to the sorceress' bed with her own ropes, nor that the most intimate and sensitive portions of her anatomy would be delicately touched and stroked by the cool metal of her own lockpicks, teased through one last poetic humiliation 'til she was past desperation, past begging, well into promising all kinds of depraved and eager favors. Services. Promises. Commitments.
And then... as cooperation turned to reward, after reward, after reward, as afternoon sun faded along the walls of the sorceress' bedchambers, taking on the slant of sunset... Elena suddenly found herself turned loose, collecting the scattered scraps of her clothing as she crawled along the ground outside, still giggling mindlessly.
"Remember," came a whisper in her mind, "If you ever come back, you will face the consequences."
Elena smiled softly. The warning had precisely the intended effect; she turned and studied the tower wall for handholds.
Thanks Null. Very inventive and a great first post!
