Crackity Jones
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Hi all, thanks for the feedback on part one. As ever, comments, suggestion, criticism are welcome. I intend to do one update a week on this series.
This story is set in a dark fantasy version of the Roman empire.
Part I
Imperial Inquisitor part II: Tribunal
The sound of Inquisitor Natasha’s footsteps echoed from the stone-flagged walls as she marched down the corridor to an uncertain fate. Although her bearing did not reveal it, her stomach was in knots and her heart was pounding. She was more accustomed to being the one inspiring fear, so these sensations were unfamiliar, and not at all welcome.
The resident Inquisitor for the city of Rome, she had recently been summoned to appear before the full Inquisitorial Council. Such a summons only ever occurred when an Inquisitor was being called to account for some gross breach of the Code and the punishments meted out by these tribunals were always the most severe.
Natasha drew in her breath as she approached the black wooden door that lead to the room where she’d be examined. Heaving the door open she strode into the room with her head held high. She might well be walking to her doom but she would do so with the dignity befitting her position.
Natasha didn’t notice the door slamming shut behind her as she took in her surroundings. She was in a circular room, so tall that she couldn’t see the ceiling above her head. She guessed this courtroom sat at the base of one the towers of the Inquisitorial Keep. In the centre of the room was a table, with four sets of manacles and winches at either end. She’d put enough captives onto racks before to recognise one.
As if reading her mind, a voice floated down to her from above.
‘Fear not, Inquisitor. You’ll not be occupying that device today.’
Natasha peered up in the darkness above. About ten feet up were a series of alcoves in the room walls. Inside each one she could make out the shape of a hooded figure. There were seven alcoves in total, seven alcoves for seven council members. She guessed this was not for anonymity, for every Inquisitor knew the members of the council. Clearly the room was designed to emphasise the power of the council over the subject and intimidate them and although Natasha would never let her face show it, it was working.
‘Move into the centre of the room,’ another of the voices from above commanded, and Natasha walked over to stand next to the rack.
‘You are here to face charges that you broke the Inquisitorial Code.’
Although Natasha was expecting something along these lines, the words caused her heart to skip a beat. Deciding it would be wisest not to respond until the Council invited her to, she remained silent.
‘The charges relate to events on the night of Portunalia,’ revealed the voice. Again, Natasha was unsurprised.
‘Please, explain what happened that night.’
So Inquisitor Natasha began her tale.
---
‘Please Inquisitor! You don’t need to do this!’ The woman, whilst not fat, could never be described as thin. She was currently tied down to her own bed; the knots had been tied by Natasha herself and wouldn’t budge no matter how hard the woman struggled. Her arms were tied to the headboard, whilst her recently bared feet were secured through the grill at the end. The feet were well maintained with plump, fleshy toes, and the Inquisitor was staring at them as if sizing them up for attack.
It was Portunalia, and like any good festival, the women of Rome were partying, the sounds of revelry floating up from the street outside. Normally the woman on the bed would have been doing a roaring trade in her tavern below, but she’d tested the patience of an Imperial Inquisitor and so was about to have a festival she’d rather forget in a hurry.
‘Of course I don’t have to do this, Helvia,’ replied Inquisitor Natasha. ‘But I will do it, unless you tell me where the cult is hiding out.’ Helvia was one of Natasha’s many sources of information in the city. As a tavern owner and madam of an illicit brothel she provided an invaluable insight into the underworld of the capital of the civilised world.
After revealing that there was a new demonic cult in the city, Helvia had become uncharacteristically quiet. Usually the merest hint of gold would have had her tongue waggling, but for a week had been claiming no knowledge of the cult whose existence she’d disclosed.
Tiring of this, Natasha had decided to show Helvia the true nature of the Inquisition. With her entourage shutting down the tavern, Natasha had dragged the protesting woman up to her bedroom and secured her to her own bed, taken off her sandals and began questioning again.
‘I’ve no idea where they hide out! I only ever saw the members once.’ Evidently unsatisfied, Natasha sighed and began scrabbling her fingernails all over Helvia’s soft heels. The effect was immediate, the woman arching her back as much as her bonds would allow, with a noise that was half laugh and half scream.Without letting her captive draw breath, the Inquisitor moved her fingernails up to the arches of the soles in front of her. She didn’t think it was possible, but this was even more effective on poor Helvia, who was now twisting from side to side and howling with laughter. It was a warm Augusta night, and Helvia’s bodice was almost transparent with sweat, and her ample breasts were threatening to break through the material. Natasha decided to let her catch her breath.
‘Natasha…why…why do this? I’m just an inn-keep. I know nothing of where the Daughters’ headquarters is.’
‘The Daughters? Interesting, you’ve never mentioned their name before.’
Natasha cut off Helvia’s cursing by resuming her work on her soft feet. This time she moved up to the balls of the feet, her cruel fingernails tracing quicker and quicker circles, eliciting further inarticulate protests from the woman in front of her. After a few minutes of this, Helvia was a wreck, her carefully coiffured hair a mess and barely able to even scream, merely shaking with silent laughter.
Natasha stood up from her stool and moved over to the chest below the window. Returning to the panting Helvia, she held up what she had retrieved from the chest: a thin, soft brush that Helvia’s whores used to apply their paints. Upon seeing this, the still out of breath woman shook her head vigorously from side to side with a look of abject fear in her eyes.
Resuming her seat, Natasha began using the brush on Helvia’s toes in the same way an artist might paint a canvas. That said, artist’s canvases don’t usually explode with laughter. It took eleven heartbeats with the brush for Helvia, now with tears of hilarity streaming down her face, to begin talking.
‘Please Inquisitor… they said they’d sacrifice me to Lamia if I ever spoke,’ she said between gulps of air.
‘Helvia, if you don’t tell me everything you know about this cult, I will personally sacrifice you to the Inquisitorial Gaol. Some gang of Nubian amazons there are just going to love these ticklish piggies.’
Helvia revealed all she knew in panicked bursts, eager to avoid the fate that had just been described to her. Apparently this new cult called themselves the Daughters of Lamia and wanted to summon their titular demoness to give them the power to overturn the corruption of Rome and so on an so forth. It sounded like the usual gang of misfits and spoiled rich girls looking for a way to undermine their parents. Members of the cult came by each week to purchase the time of one of Helvia’s girls, a different one each time. They would then tickle the prostitute in question for hours on end without explaining why, and then return them to the tavern. Despite the whores being blindfolded, the latest victim had been able to work out where in the city she’d been taken by feeling the streets through her sandals, a skill she’d picked up as a pickpocket. The Daughters were using an abandoned bath-house as their hideout.
‘Thank you, Helvia, that’s all I’ll need from you,’ said Natasha once Helvia had finished talking. Natasha then called her protégé, Saskia into the room. A young woman of twenty, Saskia was shadowing Natasha to learn the skills of an Inquisitor first-hand. This was a great honour, but beneath her black robes, she still sported the naked feet of a student of the College. Natasha then handed the brush that she’d used to break Helvia to her student.
‘This is Helvia. Pay particular attention to her toes,’ she instructed. Helvia turned pale.
‘Wh…what? No! Natasha! You said I was free to go!’
‘I said I was finished with you. Saskia is going to administer your punishment for withholding information from an Imperial Inquisitor.’
Natasha walked downstairs to gather her entourage from the empty tavern. They left the establishment quickly to travel to the disused baths that Helvia had directed them to. It could have been a trap, but judging by the sound of torturous laughter that they could hear two streets away, Natasha believed that Helvia had revealed all she knew.
---
‘You uncovered the existence of a demonic cult in Rome itself and did not see fit to inform the council?’ This voice coming down from the darkness above her sounded indignant.
‘If I bothered the council with every cabal of bored aristocrats and spurned lovers I uncovered, your esteemed selves would never have any time to administer your business. I intended to investigate these ‘Daughters’ and place my report as is usual,’ replied Natasha. Clearly, this tribunal had not been called to investigate matters of protocol, but Natasha was worried nonetheless. She wondered if she might not escape the rack she was stood next to after all.
‘Continue your account,’ was the only response.
Natasha once again began recollecting that fateful night.
---
Natasha and her party arrived at the bathhouse within the hour. There were cultists patrolling the streets around the old building, but they were overcome without either side taking casualties. Natasha had chosen her entourage for their abilities in the arts of stealth and non-lethal combat. She believed that death was a mercy for followers of the dark-arts and that spending the remainder of their lives in the ticklish hell that was the Inquisitorial Gaol was a more appropriate punishment.
She and her followers had removed their boots and sandals and their bare feet made no sound on the flagstones as they moved up behind each woman and applied the poultice to their adversaries’ faces. This poultice had been designed by Natasha’s alchemist and rendered the victim unconscious for some hours. The first these cultists would know of their capture would be when they woke up in the stocks, ready for ‘questioning.’
Natasha instructed her party to surround the old bath-house and enter it through the various entrances. She herself entered through the front doors.
In hindsight, it should have been immediately obvious that this was no ordinary cult, that she should have retreated and gathered reinforcements. The stone floor under her soles was warm despite the place not having been in use for some years. The building seemed to crackle with an…energy that Natasha had not encountered before. At the time she put it down to her imagination.
There were no guards inside the entrance of the baths, but she could hear the sounds of laughter and chanting coming from further in the structure. She quietly ascended the stairs to the balcony overlooking what were once the main baths.
From her vantage point she could immediately see where the sounds were coming from. The main pool had been completely drained but it was not empty. Surrounding it were cultists in dark robes and hoods that look like a dark mockery of her own Inquisitorial garb, who were chanting in low guttural voices, the words unknown to Natasha.
Inside the pool a young woman was tied down spread-eagle, her hands and feet tied with rope to stakes driven through the floor. She was naked, her pale skin glistening with a mixture of oil, her blonde hair in disarray. Natasha couldn’t see much of her face as the cultists had blindfolded her but she was clearly beautiful. She was currently writhing as much as her bonds would allow and begging in a high, desperate voice.
‘I can’t take it anymore! I don’t know what I’ve done to you people.’ This wasn’t one of Helvia’s girls; Natasha guessed that the cult had found a new source of victims. The laughter she’d heard in the entrance was evidently that of this poor woman and this was some kind of dark ceremony. There were painted shapes and demonic symbols daubed on the walls, and the young woman was staked in the centre of a red-painted circle. The room was lit only by torchlight, and powders had obviously been thrown on the flames as they burned a fierce green.
‘It is nothing you have done to us, dear. We are offering you a gift, the greatest gift of all. All you need do is accept.’ The speaker was one of the cultists surrounding the pool. She drew back her hood to reveal her face. She had midnight black hair, with hooded eyes and a small, cruel mouth. This cultist jumped down next to the girl who flinched from the sound and swung her head about, trying to identify the source despite the blindfold. The cultist walked around the blonde girl slowly, before stopping and tickling her exposed armpits.
‘No….No more…’ the blonde girl implored between giggles. Another cultist dropped down into the pit and began exploring the inner thighs of the captive, resulting in more laughter.
Something about this scene seemed desperately wrong to Natasha and she was anxious to stop it, but she could see other guards at the edge of the room, too many for her to handle alone. She needed to wait for her entourage to arrive before she could attack.
The girl in the empty pool was bucking up and down, trying in vain to break her bonds. She was feeling sensations on her upper and lower body and Natasha knew this could be unbearable for the strongest of constitutions, let alone the soft, milky-skinned girl who had fallen afoul of this cult. The bare-headed cultist, evidently the leader had now moved her attention to the ribs of the girl, running her fingernails up and down them quickly without pause. The other cultist in the pit had moved down to the long, thin soles of the tied captive. She’d knelt down and began running her tongue up and down the length of her right foot. Natasha didn’t think it was possible but this provided even more torture of the victim, who was now howling with incessant laughter, evidently being driven to the brink of insanity.
‘You need only give in, dear. These sensations can all end, if only you would give accept the gift my mistress is offering.’ Again, it was the leader of the cultists speaking, in soft, inviting tones. She stopped tickling the ribs of the girl to caress her face and move some strands of hair away. ‘After all, accepting her will be so…rewarding.’
Instead of resuming her tickling, the cultist began caressing the woman’s pale breasts stroking and licking them as one might a lover’s. Meanwhile, the woman at the other end of the pit had begun to put her tongue to a different use. She moved up between the thighs of the girl, lowered her head and began pleasuring the girl, whose toes began to curl and her writhing took on a less desperate appearance.
‘Yes…yes…’ was all the girl could say in a throaty voice as involuntary moaning became the only noise she could make.
‘You do like that don’t you? This could be your whole existence, my love if only you’ll accept Lamia into your heart. After all, the world can be such a cruel place.’ With those words the cultist ceased her caresses and began tickling her armpits and neck with rapid movements of her fingernails. Meanwhile, as if connected by telepathy, her fellow cultist drew her head back from the triangle of golden hair between the girl’s thighs, scuttled back down to her feet and began tickling her feet, the fingernails moving in a blur.
Natasha would have counted herself proud to produce the kind of reaction she saw below her. The girl in the pit arched her back and thrust her hips forward, letting out a strangled yell that Natasha was sure the Goddesses would hear. The most intimate form of pleasure had just turned to the worst kind of ticklish hell and evidently the girl’s fight had gone, she merely shook with laughter as the sensations overwhelmed her.
After a few minutes of this, her tormentors once again began pleasuring her, and now a third cultist jumped into the pit and wrapped her mouth around the victim’s long toes. Once again the blonde began moaning, repeating only one word.
‘Yes…yes…yes…’ With each word the voice sounded more guttural, almost…inhuman. The chanting around the pit became faster and more urgent and finally Natasha saw what she should have noticed from the beginning, five obsidian obelisks with foul runes etched on them, seven feet tall and arranged in the circle around the chamber. Natasha only saw them because they had begun glowing.
Understanding the significance of this, she jumped the ten feet from the balcony down to the pit, her bare feet making little noise on the floor. It was the riskiest decision she’d ever made as an Inquisitor, but the scene below her had chilled her to the bone. Natasha believed that if she didn’t disrupt this evil, the cult would successfully summon the first demon the world had seen for centuries.
To be continued
This story is set in a dark fantasy version of the Roman empire.
Part I
Imperial Inquisitor part II: Tribunal
The sound of Inquisitor Natasha’s footsteps echoed from the stone-flagged walls as she marched down the corridor to an uncertain fate. Although her bearing did not reveal it, her stomach was in knots and her heart was pounding. She was more accustomed to being the one inspiring fear, so these sensations were unfamiliar, and not at all welcome.
The resident Inquisitor for the city of Rome, she had recently been summoned to appear before the full Inquisitorial Council. Such a summons only ever occurred when an Inquisitor was being called to account for some gross breach of the Code and the punishments meted out by these tribunals were always the most severe.
Natasha drew in her breath as she approached the black wooden door that lead to the room where she’d be examined. Heaving the door open she strode into the room with her head held high. She might well be walking to her doom but she would do so with the dignity befitting her position.
Natasha didn’t notice the door slamming shut behind her as she took in her surroundings. She was in a circular room, so tall that she couldn’t see the ceiling above her head. She guessed this courtroom sat at the base of one the towers of the Inquisitorial Keep. In the centre of the room was a table, with four sets of manacles and winches at either end. She’d put enough captives onto racks before to recognise one.
As if reading her mind, a voice floated down to her from above.
‘Fear not, Inquisitor. You’ll not be occupying that device today.’
Natasha peered up in the darkness above. About ten feet up were a series of alcoves in the room walls. Inside each one she could make out the shape of a hooded figure. There were seven alcoves in total, seven alcoves for seven council members. She guessed this was not for anonymity, for every Inquisitor knew the members of the council. Clearly the room was designed to emphasise the power of the council over the subject and intimidate them and although Natasha would never let her face show it, it was working.
‘Move into the centre of the room,’ another of the voices from above commanded, and Natasha walked over to stand next to the rack.
‘You are here to face charges that you broke the Inquisitorial Code.’
Although Natasha was expecting something along these lines, the words caused her heart to skip a beat. Deciding it would be wisest not to respond until the Council invited her to, she remained silent.
‘The charges relate to events on the night of Portunalia,’ revealed the voice. Again, Natasha was unsurprised.
‘Please, explain what happened that night.’
So Inquisitor Natasha began her tale.
---
‘Please Inquisitor! You don’t need to do this!’ The woman, whilst not fat, could never be described as thin. She was currently tied down to her own bed; the knots had been tied by Natasha herself and wouldn’t budge no matter how hard the woman struggled. Her arms were tied to the headboard, whilst her recently bared feet were secured through the grill at the end. The feet were well maintained with plump, fleshy toes, and the Inquisitor was staring at them as if sizing them up for attack.
It was Portunalia, and like any good festival, the women of Rome were partying, the sounds of revelry floating up from the street outside. Normally the woman on the bed would have been doing a roaring trade in her tavern below, but she’d tested the patience of an Imperial Inquisitor and so was about to have a festival she’d rather forget in a hurry.
‘Of course I don’t have to do this, Helvia,’ replied Inquisitor Natasha. ‘But I will do it, unless you tell me where the cult is hiding out.’ Helvia was one of Natasha’s many sources of information in the city. As a tavern owner and madam of an illicit brothel she provided an invaluable insight into the underworld of the capital of the civilised world.
After revealing that there was a new demonic cult in the city, Helvia had become uncharacteristically quiet. Usually the merest hint of gold would have had her tongue waggling, but for a week had been claiming no knowledge of the cult whose existence she’d disclosed.
Tiring of this, Natasha had decided to show Helvia the true nature of the Inquisition. With her entourage shutting down the tavern, Natasha had dragged the protesting woman up to her bedroom and secured her to her own bed, taken off her sandals and began questioning again.
‘I’ve no idea where they hide out! I only ever saw the members once.’ Evidently unsatisfied, Natasha sighed and began scrabbling her fingernails all over Helvia’s soft heels. The effect was immediate, the woman arching her back as much as her bonds would allow, with a noise that was half laugh and half scream.Without letting her captive draw breath, the Inquisitor moved her fingernails up to the arches of the soles in front of her. She didn’t think it was possible, but this was even more effective on poor Helvia, who was now twisting from side to side and howling with laughter. It was a warm Augusta night, and Helvia’s bodice was almost transparent with sweat, and her ample breasts were threatening to break through the material. Natasha decided to let her catch her breath.
‘Natasha…why…why do this? I’m just an inn-keep. I know nothing of where the Daughters’ headquarters is.’
‘The Daughters? Interesting, you’ve never mentioned their name before.’
Natasha cut off Helvia’s cursing by resuming her work on her soft feet. This time she moved up to the balls of the feet, her cruel fingernails tracing quicker and quicker circles, eliciting further inarticulate protests from the woman in front of her. After a few minutes of this, Helvia was a wreck, her carefully coiffured hair a mess and barely able to even scream, merely shaking with silent laughter.
Natasha stood up from her stool and moved over to the chest below the window. Returning to the panting Helvia, she held up what she had retrieved from the chest: a thin, soft brush that Helvia’s whores used to apply their paints. Upon seeing this, the still out of breath woman shook her head vigorously from side to side with a look of abject fear in her eyes.
Resuming her seat, Natasha began using the brush on Helvia’s toes in the same way an artist might paint a canvas. That said, artist’s canvases don’t usually explode with laughter. It took eleven heartbeats with the brush for Helvia, now with tears of hilarity streaming down her face, to begin talking.
‘Please Inquisitor… they said they’d sacrifice me to Lamia if I ever spoke,’ she said between gulps of air.
‘Helvia, if you don’t tell me everything you know about this cult, I will personally sacrifice you to the Inquisitorial Gaol. Some gang of Nubian amazons there are just going to love these ticklish piggies.’
Helvia revealed all she knew in panicked bursts, eager to avoid the fate that had just been described to her. Apparently this new cult called themselves the Daughters of Lamia and wanted to summon their titular demoness to give them the power to overturn the corruption of Rome and so on an so forth. It sounded like the usual gang of misfits and spoiled rich girls looking for a way to undermine their parents. Members of the cult came by each week to purchase the time of one of Helvia’s girls, a different one each time. They would then tickle the prostitute in question for hours on end without explaining why, and then return them to the tavern. Despite the whores being blindfolded, the latest victim had been able to work out where in the city she’d been taken by feeling the streets through her sandals, a skill she’d picked up as a pickpocket. The Daughters were using an abandoned bath-house as their hideout.
‘Thank you, Helvia, that’s all I’ll need from you,’ said Natasha once Helvia had finished talking. Natasha then called her protégé, Saskia into the room. A young woman of twenty, Saskia was shadowing Natasha to learn the skills of an Inquisitor first-hand. This was a great honour, but beneath her black robes, she still sported the naked feet of a student of the College. Natasha then handed the brush that she’d used to break Helvia to her student.
‘This is Helvia. Pay particular attention to her toes,’ she instructed. Helvia turned pale.
‘Wh…what? No! Natasha! You said I was free to go!’
‘I said I was finished with you. Saskia is going to administer your punishment for withholding information from an Imperial Inquisitor.’
Natasha walked downstairs to gather her entourage from the empty tavern. They left the establishment quickly to travel to the disused baths that Helvia had directed them to. It could have been a trap, but judging by the sound of torturous laughter that they could hear two streets away, Natasha believed that Helvia had revealed all she knew.
---
‘You uncovered the existence of a demonic cult in Rome itself and did not see fit to inform the council?’ This voice coming down from the darkness above her sounded indignant.
‘If I bothered the council with every cabal of bored aristocrats and spurned lovers I uncovered, your esteemed selves would never have any time to administer your business. I intended to investigate these ‘Daughters’ and place my report as is usual,’ replied Natasha. Clearly, this tribunal had not been called to investigate matters of protocol, but Natasha was worried nonetheless. She wondered if she might not escape the rack she was stood next to after all.
‘Continue your account,’ was the only response.
Natasha once again began recollecting that fateful night.
---
Natasha and her party arrived at the bathhouse within the hour. There were cultists patrolling the streets around the old building, but they were overcome without either side taking casualties. Natasha had chosen her entourage for their abilities in the arts of stealth and non-lethal combat. She believed that death was a mercy for followers of the dark-arts and that spending the remainder of their lives in the ticklish hell that was the Inquisitorial Gaol was a more appropriate punishment.
She and her followers had removed their boots and sandals and their bare feet made no sound on the flagstones as they moved up behind each woman and applied the poultice to their adversaries’ faces. This poultice had been designed by Natasha’s alchemist and rendered the victim unconscious for some hours. The first these cultists would know of their capture would be when they woke up in the stocks, ready for ‘questioning.’
Natasha instructed her party to surround the old bath-house and enter it through the various entrances. She herself entered through the front doors.
In hindsight, it should have been immediately obvious that this was no ordinary cult, that she should have retreated and gathered reinforcements. The stone floor under her soles was warm despite the place not having been in use for some years. The building seemed to crackle with an…energy that Natasha had not encountered before. At the time she put it down to her imagination.
There were no guards inside the entrance of the baths, but she could hear the sounds of laughter and chanting coming from further in the structure. She quietly ascended the stairs to the balcony overlooking what were once the main baths.
From her vantage point she could immediately see where the sounds were coming from. The main pool had been completely drained but it was not empty. Surrounding it were cultists in dark robes and hoods that look like a dark mockery of her own Inquisitorial garb, who were chanting in low guttural voices, the words unknown to Natasha.
Inside the pool a young woman was tied down spread-eagle, her hands and feet tied with rope to stakes driven through the floor. She was naked, her pale skin glistening with a mixture of oil, her blonde hair in disarray. Natasha couldn’t see much of her face as the cultists had blindfolded her but she was clearly beautiful. She was currently writhing as much as her bonds would allow and begging in a high, desperate voice.
‘I can’t take it anymore! I don’t know what I’ve done to you people.’ This wasn’t one of Helvia’s girls; Natasha guessed that the cult had found a new source of victims. The laughter she’d heard in the entrance was evidently that of this poor woman and this was some kind of dark ceremony. There were painted shapes and demonic symbols daubed on the walls, and the young woman was staked in the centre of a red-painted circle. The room was lit only by torchlight, and powders had obviously been thrown on the flames as they burned a fierce green.
‘It is nothing you have done to us, dear. We are offering you a gift, the greatest gift of all. All you need do is accept.’ The speaker was one of the cultists surrounding the pool. She drew back her hood to reveal her face. She had midnight black hair, with hooded eyes and a small, cruel mouth. This cultist jumped down next to the girl who flinched from the sound and swung her head about, trying to identify the source despite the blindfold. The cultist walked around the blonde girl slowly, before stopping and tickling her exposed armpits.
‘No….No more…’ the blonde girl implored between giggles. Another cultist dropped down into the pit and began exploring the inner thighs of the captive, resulting in more laughter.
Something about this scene seemed desperately wrong to Natasha and she was anxious to stop it, but she could see other guards at the edge of the room, too many for her to handle alone. She needed to wait for her entourage to arrive before she could attack.
The girl in the empty pool was bucking up and down, trying in vain to break her bonds. She was feeling sensations on her upper and lower body and Natasha knew this could be unbearable for the strongest of constitutions, let alone the soft, milky-skinned girl who had fallen afoul of this cult. The bare-headed cultist, evidently the leader had now moved her attention to the ribs of the girl, running her fingernails up and down them quickly without pause. The other cultist in the pit had moved down to the long, thin soles of the tied captive. She’d knelt down and began running her tongue up and down the length of her right foot. Natasha didn’t think it was possible but this provided even more torture of the victim, who was now howling with incessant laughter, evidently being driven to the brink of insanity.
‘You need only give in, dear. These sensations can all end, if only you would give accept the gift my mistress is offering.’ Again, it was the leader of the cultists speaking, in soft, inviting tones. She stopped tickling the ribs of the girl to caress her face and move some strands of hair away. ‘After all, accepting her will be so…rewarding.’
Instead of resuming her tickling, the cultist began caressing the woman’s pale breasts stroking and licking them as one might a lover’s. Meanwhile, the woman at the other end of the pit had begun to put her tongue to a different use. She moved up between the thighs of the girl, lowered her head and began pleasuring the girl, whose toes began to curl and her writhing took on a less desperate appearance.
‘Yes…yes…’ was all the girl could say in a throaty voice as involuntary moaning became the only noise she could make.
‘You do like that don’t you? This could be your whole existence, my love if only you’ll accept Lamia into your heart. After all, the world can be such a cruel place.’ With those words the cultist ceased her caresses and began tickling her armpits and neck with rapid movements of her fingernails. Meanwhile, as if connected by telepathy, her fellow cultist drew her head back from the triangle of golden hair between the girl’s thighs, scuttled back down to her feet and began tickling her feet, the fingernails moving in a blur.
Natasha would have counted herself proud to produce the kind of reaction she saw below her. The girl in the pit arched her back and thrust her hips forward, letting out a strangled yell that Natasha was sure the Goddesses would hear. The most intimate form of pleasure had just turned to the worst kind of ticklish hell and evidently the girl’s fight had gone, she merely shook with laughter as the sensations overwhelmed her.
After a few minutes of this, her tormentors once again began pleasuring her, and now a third cultist jumped into the pit and wrapped her mouth around the victim’s long toes. Once again the blonde began moaning, repeating only one word.
‘Yes…yes…yes…’ With each word the voice sounded more guttural, almost…inhuman. The chanting around the pit became faster and more urgent and finally Natasha saw what she should have noticed from the beginning, five obsidian obelisks with foul runes etched on them, seven feet tall and arranged in the circle around the chamber. Natasha only saw them because they had begun glowing.
Understanding the significance of this, she jumped the ten feet from the balcony down to the pit, her bare feet making little noise on the floor. It was the riskiest decision she’d ever made as an Inquisitor, but the scene below her had chilled her to the bone. Natasha believed that if she didn’t disrupt this evil, the cult would successfully summon the first demon the world had seen for centuries.
To be continued
