Johnny Pseudo
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Decided to begin to update my TMF account in tandem with my TT one as well. I usually post over on the Theater, but it seems to be down (again?) so I figured I might as well garner some sort of reputation over here as well.
OK! Enough plugging. When I wrote this earlier this year, I originally wanted this to be a one-off piece, but later decided to make it into a Trilogy instead. Dunno why I can't settle on just doing two-story increments, but alas, I digress. The name was an odd one, because I didn't originally know what to call it. I think I honestly just wanted it to be reminiscent of Sun Tzu's "Art of War", without sounding too cliched in doing so. Those of you with keen perception will be able to tell where the WAR acronym gets its meaning from. Anyway, the name works at least, and I'm satisfied with this first installation, so what more can I hope for?
On an aside, currently trying to get back into writing. Due to being a full time student, and working 30+ hours a week my free time is rather stringent. Hopefully my rust isn't too bad, and I've a few works placed on the back-burner that need touching up here and there before they're posted.
- - - - -
“Move along! Come on now, why must you be so difficult!?”
The sounds of jingling chains reverberated off of the stone walls in the corridor. Upon a closer inspection, one would find that the origin of the sounds came from a young woman, presently moving through the long hall with two men at each side. Every now and again, the being in question would look over her shoulder towards the guards escorting her.
“Listen wench, if I were you, I'd keep my attention straight a'ead.” one spoke up, patting at the broadsword sheathed onto his waist in a suggestive manner.
The woman scoffed, not at all unnerved at the man's gesture or keen choice of words. “I bade you try it.”
“Why you– !” he hissed; another guard at his right stopped him as he began unsheathing the weathered blade. “Aye, now hold just a moment, dammit! You kill her, and the it'll be your head to find the gallows rope next! Just ignore her, for fuck's sake.”
For the first time in days, Vivian actually laughed. Amidst the grumbling from the guard and the clinking of the chains around her wrists, the sounds of her laughter were a much needed reprieve from the glaringly bleak outlook of her situation. She knew that her time on this earth was soon coming to an end; t'was the price to pay for being captured by an enemy army, she surmised. The hallway came to a fork, and the duo ushered her off to the left. They began passing cells, both empty, and occupied. Some of the men and women inside threw out disparaging comments to her, while others merely chucked or tried to heckle the guards. Through the taunts and verbal abuse, the dame kept her head held high. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her broken; a personal promise more than anything.
Truth be told, she was tired... exhausted was more like it. The events of the last few days seemed but a blur to her, though the outcome could hardly be ignored. Vivian Lestraghe was a knight under the command of Duke Karmalin Eslion. He had personally sent her, along with a dozen or so of her fellow knights in company to investigate some odd rumors from a small settlement on the border of Eslion's territory. The rumors spoke of a new type of weapon that the neighboring de facto ruler, Torghidal Bunza had been trying out in the mountains bordering Eslion's territory. If the rumors held true, it seemed that Torghidal's forces would be neigh impossible to defeat, should they manage to get this “creation” operational.
They had ridden for days, stopping only for rest when their beasts could go on no longer.
Upon finally reaching the town proper with the waning sun falling at their backs, the knights had unknowingly stumbled into an ambush. Weary from their travels, the stood no chance at countering the forces Bunza had ordered to invade the city.
It had been a small battalion under the command of Ozlond Barbatos; a knight commander whom had made quite a bloodied reputation for himself from the tales whispered throughout Eslion's lands.
Since she was but a child, she had been told stories of how for many generations, the Eslions and the Bunzas had been at war with one another, vying for dominion over the country. Sensing that her troop stood no chance against the militant strength that Barbatos no doubt commanded, she had ordered part of her arcane guard to begin setting the settlement ablaze while retreating towards the foothills of the mountain range. Not the type to merely watch his prey escape, Ozlond gave chase, forcing her and a small detachment to act as bait so that her other troops could escape mostly unscathed.
This was the outcome she now found herself in, a prisoner of Torghidal Bunza. Running her troops down and besting her in battle had left a discouraging feeling to fester within herself. Barbatos had the nerve to even slaughter some of her troops whom had laid down their swords even after the battle had been decided. The corrupted knight had sent her off to the grand prison in the heart of the enemy capital, Illiam, while he continued on after her fellow soldiers left behind. His campaign would no doubt be a bloodied one, as his intent was to draw the ire of Eslion's troops towards the border between the two kingdoms.
“My good dame– ” he chided, tapping the point of his blade underneath her chin while she looked up at him from upon the ground. “–It seems luck was not on your side this night.” Ozlond motioned with his head for her to stand, to which she begrudgingly obliged. She clasped her hand over the trickling wound upon her sword arm, feeling the warm blood soak through her iron gauntlet. She watched as a few guards approached her, ripping her arms behind her before binding them completely.“Hopefully you'll find your stay within our lands to be a fair one... Hahahaha!!”
Things were grim, but still, she held steadfast in the hope that she could find a way to escape. If not through force, then by some other means...
“Hold; we've arrived–“ the man in front of her spoke before throwing open two large, iron doors. He stepped aside and gestured for her to follow. Vivian hesitated, looking around, but was surprised to find no one else within. “– What's wrong? The accommodations not to your liking, Lestraghe?” he spat before crossing his arms. “... Call me a purist, but you could have at least brought me somewhere a bit more... homely. These prison wards just leave too much to be desired... don't you think?” she contentiously retorted with a smirk. All at once, she felt a sharp throbbing pain from the strike of a pommel upon her lower back, causing her to fall upon her knees. “Don't get smart with us, you bitch. You're lucky to be someone of relevant use around here. If it were any other case, I would have already lopped that pretty head off from atop your shoulders.” came the chastising remark from the guard behind her.
Wincing through the pain, she quickly rose once more, turning and eying the man with eyes ablaze. In a single, powerful motion, she swept her arms across, striking him on the side of the face with her irons. He stumbled back into the wall before falling upon his rear in a dazed stupor.
“Knave! I'll honor you with a sword through the gullet, should I ever escape this hellish place!” she screamed while lunging towards him to continue her attack. Before she could reach the poor sod, a pair of strong arms grabbed her by the waist while simultaneously lifting her off her feet.
The stricken man flew off the wall in a rage, barely restrained by another rotund guard as he reached out to grab hold of her. “Forget the lady inquisitor; I'd spare a gallion to string you up right NOW!” his mighty cries bellowed against the stone walls. Behind them both, they could hear the shouts and commotion coming from the prisoner wards. Vivian kicked out with her legs, managing to hit his arms before he lashed out and seized her, wrenching a boot from around her very foot.
All at once, she felt herself being thrown unceremoniously into the room, landing upon the cold, sturdy stone in a heap while the guards struggled to close the doors behind her. Vivian pushed off the floor, leaping towards the hulking objects and pounding upon them in a fitful rage as they were slammed and barred shut. “Whoreson dogs! You've not heard the last from me! I swear it!”
From the other side of the door came more chastising rebuttal. “You unruly little whore!! You'll get yours, believe you me!”
From the sounds of it, the guard didn't take too kindly to her choice of words. It didn't do much to help her situation, but it did bring a satisfying smirk to her face; that is, once she finally cooled down herself.
Wiggling the toes on her now bare left foot she let out a sigh, wishing the bastards had at least tossed her boot inside before leaving her here. Her hand went up to part the honey colored locks of her long hair from in front of her eyes. Slowly, Vivian turned around, surveying the room while pulling off her other flimsy piece of footwear. The room was large, with a window allowing view towards a hedge-maze of sorts, nestled behind a large mahogany desk. There was another door leading off to somewhere else, as well as an ornate rug covering most of the floor. For that she was partially grateful for, lest she have to walk across cold stone in naught but her bared feet.
Walking the length of the walls, she took note of a number of bookcases, each with a variety of books lying within their shelves. Some seemed to be half-strung, weathered diaries, or something of the sort, while a number were of intellectual pursuits; astrology, gramarye, alchemy and the like. This... inquisitor must be a very learned woman. I've naught seen books like this... except in Ferdinand's study. Unbeknownst to Vivian, another had joined her inside the room. Silent in her approach, she seemed to effortlessly cross the room until she came to rest upon a corner of the large desk. Clad in a blackened dress-shirt with a leather tunic over-top, she began twirling a piece of her wild strewn, ashen colored hair about while waiting for this girl to take notice.
Vivian eventually turned around, stunned to see another soul here in the confines of this small room; I heard no door opening, no footsteps; how did she...?
“Ah... You must be the one I've been hearing about. Our new “guest of honor”, I presume?” the other woman asked, laughing a little at the frivolous title that the guards had bequeathed upon this girl. A lithe smile passed Vivian's face while she watched the other begin twirling a lock of hair. “Guest of honor are hardly the words I would use, though I suppose they'll say as they will, given my sudden arrival here... Forgive my saying, but am I to assume that you must be this whispered inquisitor I've been told about?” Vivian rebuked, watching the woman's eyes light up at the mention of the title.
“Hmm... still calling me that after all this time, are they? All in the namesake of formalities, I suppose... But in any case, here you are. 'Tis both a pleasure, and an honor to behold such a fine warrior as you, Miss... Lestraghe, if I'm not mistaken?” The irons around her wrists clinked as the words seemed to roll of this strange woman's tongue. Something seemed... amiss about all of this. There was also something about this woman that did offend, though Vivian couldn't place whatabouts it was.
Her eyes fell across this strange woman, taking in her brazen, if not a bit haughty appearance. A tight fitting black tunic tucked beneath a leather corset of sorts, which accentuated her buxom features. Around her waist was a set of black breeches; going down and ending with a pair of weathered brown laced boots. The woman was of a pallor sort, though perhaps it was merely due to the position she kept. Her ashen hair fell wildly about her shoulders; appearing almost serpentile. What struck Vivian most odd was not her colour, (or lack thereof), but rather the woman's eyes; dull-reddish, like orbs of dark wine. It was a stark contrast amidst her other... uncanny features.
It was the dame who broke the silence first, snapping back amidst her wandering thoughts. “Yes, that would indeed be me. If I may... who might I be addressing? Surely you've a name other than the title which supersedes you?”
“Ah... how very rude of me–“ the pallor woman began, righting herself upon the floor while crossing her arms beneath her bosom. “–Zeallia Cazmate; confidante and inquisitor to his Lord Highness Bunza.” Vivian looked on at Zeallia, who flashed her a endearing smile before falling quiet once more.
Vivian jostled the shackles confining her wrists together, while she looked out towards the blackening, afternoon sky. “So am I to assume that my being brought here was mere happenstance? Or is there further reason behind it all?” Cazmate began pacing around the woman, eying her up and down while searched for the right words to respond with.
Shapely figure... and such rich color–
The woman's tongue slowly swept across her teeth, she could feel herself beginning to salivate while her eyes wandered this woman's flesh.
–A bit too... brazen for my tastes, but I suppose she'll have to do. I've definitely held worse in my midst, to be sure. But then that makes it all the more interesting in the end, I suppose...
Zeallia stopped behind the woman, leaning in close. Vivian could feel her breath warm on the side of her neck as she began to speak. “To put it simply... Yes, Miss Lestraghe. I've been... tasked, in a sense, to obtain what information I can regarding what you may know about our enemy. Of course, I can't simply kill you, so you've been spared that indignation... for now at least. Then again, you could just tell me what it is I need; perhaps spare both you and I the unfortunate unpleasantries that I'm sure will take place here very soon.” On the back of her neck, the hairs stood up as she began to tense. Something about her words seemed to droll on, though they remained to the point. That irksome, cryptic feeling Vivian had before seemed to be increasing more and more by the minute.
“... Just how exactly do you plan to extract these “secrets” from me then? Starvation? Whippings?” she chimed out, feeling the tickly sensations of the woman's breathing still on her neck. Zeallia chuckled softly, grabbing hold of the girl's shoulders as she leaned in closer. The scent of this young woman was absolutely intoxicating, perhaps too much for her to bear at the moment. Zeallia decided to keep her conversation short and to the point. “Nothing of that nature, I'm afraid. I've special plans in the works for you. Oh yes... very special indeed...” To Vivian, this inquisitor seemed delighted, if not a bit hushed in her efforts to get the hint across.
The dame's skinned tingled, her nerves felt like they were set ablaze at the mere sound of Zeallia's voice. “I think we've wasted enough time here. Let's go somewhere we can discuss things... further.” the woman bade, finally pulling away from the girl altogether. She motioned off towards the door on the far side of the room, giving the girl a small push. Vivian held steadfast, turning around to face the woman. “... And if I refuse?”
Zeallia let out a laugh while she balled her left fist. She eased off and spread her hand open, to which a small flame erupted and hovered over her palm. “It's quite simple, my good dame. Refuse, and I'll char you until there's nothing but a pile of bones and ash. I'll leave the choice to your own discretion.”
The young woman stepped back apprehensively, surprised at Zeallia's nonchalant statement. Vivian was no stranger to the realm of magic, for she had seen it countless times from the warlocks that Karmalin had at his beck and call. No, what surprised her most was how unsettling Zealia's attitude had been; almost as if she were speaking about the weather to a stranger out in the streets...
Around the same time Vivian found herself in the company of that strange woman, it was reaching the waning hours of the afternoon. Dark clouds had billowed down from the Hymaron mountain range just to the outlying city's northwest. The sky was a blackish hue, only waning every so often at the lighting that pierced through the heavens. Traveled roads soon turned into makeshift pebbled stone, leading to, and past, the prison keep. A man poised on top of an aging mare stopped just on the edge of where dirt met stone. From here, he could plainly see the keep, and the guards that patrolled it's weathered parapets. There was a foul stench in the air, though undoubtedly, the poor souls who'd been ordered to guard that hellish place probably thought it was from the nearby stables.
The sods; they seek to thrive on the merits of those in power, yet they fail to realize just whom they've entrusted that power to.
The man could recognize that lingering scent just as he had over the course of the last century. His name was Xindas Lareuxe, once a knight who sought nothing more than to hunt down the creature responsible for the burning of his once great king's capital. It had in reality been over a century and then some, but during his extended time in this mortal realm, the memories of that day had left a lingering wound etched within his soul. A constant reminder that what had once been a noble and just cause for his crusade, had been left to die once he had met the woman responsible for the heinous acts.
He stopped to get off of his stead, running his hand along it's mane as his jaw tightened, fingers slowly clenching around the pommel of his sword.
“You petty man! Where is your goddess now!? Don't you see; she has forsaken you just as she did me, all those years ago.” Zeallia's expression was one of pure anguish. Her fangs were barred for him to see; the rune inscriptions adorning her body began to glow, as an aura started to weave around her curvacious form. “If you are all that stand between me and fulfilling my obligations in this world, then prepare to be torn asunder under the burden that you alone have carried for those fools I killed all those years ago.”
Xindas stepped forward, drawing his sword from it's weathered scabbard. His free hand went into a pocket along his belt and withdrew the charm his youngest sister had given him, just before the catastrophe had happened. He could feel all his anger; the bitter tears biting at the corners of his eyes; all of it, rising within him, threatening to burst from his very soul.
“Sillien's gaze sees all. My faith, and my undying love for what I've lost is what guides my sword, what spurns me onward to end your miserable existence in this world! Ire the goddess and the countless victims of your misguided vendetta no longer!”
Grasping the blade within both hands, he swept it in front of him with all of his strength. What had once been compassionate and loving eyes now harbored malice and a killer's instinct.
He remembered the last words he had thought before the two had clashed. Words that still rang out to him now, even after all this time.
I promise you that yours shall be a most slow and pain-filled death, you insufferable wretch!
Xindas snapped back from his memories. Even through his weathered gauntlets, he could feel the rough edges of the pommel leaving a mark through the leather against his palm. On that day, the gods had seemingly conspired against him. He failed to have his revenge that day. Not only that, but once Zeallia had dealt with him, she had stood over his dying form and merely laughed; not only at himself, but at his ideals and idle threats.
He had thought that she had left him to die; left him to face his family and friends in the afterlife to admit to his defeat. However, once he had regained consciousness, he was pained to discover that he had not in fact died, but rather was at the mercy and care of the one who had caused him to suffer so.
After that fateful encounter, he had grown to resent her even more; if only she had let him suffer and die. Xindas would have been free, free from the burden of memories running through his mind when he slept. Eating away at what was left of his mortal soul.
Instinctively, his hand reached to his neck, clutching at the spots where her jagged fangs had pierced his flesh. Ragged holes upon which the curse she instilled entered and now coursed through his veins. His had been an aimless existence for many years following that day. Lessened to the point of almost complete submission to her whim and desires, a disheartening effect due in part to the curse plaguing his body. Xindas had little choice but to kill any and all who came to try and thwart Zealia's plans to further herself into a position of power within the war-mongering kingdoms.
The fallen knight could feel his neck beginning to throb, almost as if it were an indication that she was really here. The many years he had spent searching might just now pay off. He had come too far, sacrificed too much. Xindas looked down upon his hands, the very same hands he had used to slay human after human for over a century now. His mind began to wander, the thoughts came, just as they always did:
Am I really any better than this vile woman?
Are my hands not just as stained as hers? Have I too not killed for the sheer sake of it?
These were the sort of thoughts that filled his mind. No... he would clean his hands of this ordeal soon enough; he would be able to save his soul, for that had been what had kept him going after all hope had fled.
Soon enough, Zeallia's time would come. There was no escaping the hands of fate, no escaping the will of Sillien. Funny now, how he still made prayer to one of the goddesses, even after being condemned to a walking death. Lareuxe would bide his time for a few days, get a lay of the fortress-like structure. When the opportunity exposed itself, he would strike while he could.
And I promise that the outcome will vastly differ than from before.
Whilst the two women passed a window overlooking the courtyard, a flash of lightening blasted out across the oppressive skyline. It seemed that Zeallia was ushering her off to some sort of dungeon to begin the interrogation. Another set of stairs, and soon, the only lighting was that of candle sconces set upon the wall. Although the passage was heated from the many lights, it was eerily cool. With each step Vivian made, she shuddered at the cool sensations coursing up through her foot-bottoms. Soon enough, the journey was over; as Zeallia lighted two torches with her magical spells.
There was no idle conversations to rouse the spirits; no hint or meager answer to sate Vivian's curiosities about what lie in store for her. For all that her earlier flaunting had suggested, it was obvious now that this seemed a different woman than before. The pale beauty was as quiet as the burning wicks behind her, as she tightened the straps around the girl's wrists. Lestraghe found herself being bound to what appeared to be some sort of rack device. The stiff, almost cold sensations of the leather straps danced across her ligaments and combined with the cold feeling of stone against her backside. Feeling satisfied with the position her captive was in, Cazmate quickly strode over to a small desk nestled against the wall. Next to the slab of stone where Vivian lay was an extension of sorts, to where she hurriedly placed several objects of questionable use. A small leather wrapped book, a few bottles of various colored liquids, several quill pens and a bottle of ink, a few horse hide brushes it seemed, and several long strips of cloth.
The younger woman watched on in silence as Zeallia prowled along the stone slab. Her eyes drank in the girl's form, this time with much less disregard than their prior meeting. “Mmmm...” her voice purred, tongue flicking across her full lips; “Perhaps I was wrong about you, fair dame. At first I judged you based upon those who bore similar rank and title... but now... yes, now I'm sure of it. You are a cut above the rest of them, of that I am quite sure now. Oh, the fun I'm going to have breaking you.” Vivian stared off towards the far corner of the room, doing her best to avoid the callous woman's gazes and off-colored remarks.
It wasn't long after that her attempts at ignoring the woman were dissolved as she felt a finger trailing down her forearm and along her bicep. The sudden sensation caught her off guard, as her mouth twisted into a lopsided grin of sorts. Down into her underarm went the finger, soon joined by one more. They made little swirling motions before blazing a slow path down onto her ribcage. Zeallia watched the girl try and recover her stoic expression, but her sudden outburst gave her all the information that she needed. As her fingertips edged down, soon crossing over the hips, she began to notice the small quivers taking hold of the girls lower lip. These indications would most likely have been lost to anyone other than herself; both due to the low lighting, and the fact that this was a more... unusual approach to “torture”... if one could even call it that.
There were no words exchanged between the two. It seemed that a battle of wills was now taking effect down below in the catacombs of Zeallia's dungeon. The dame felt her captor's fingertips running just above the hemline of where her undergarments would have been. Woman be damned; would she just get on with it!?
Her two fingertips tickled the supple flesh underneath that taut stomach she possessed. The sensations seemed to sow themselves and blossom throughout her body, making her stomach quiver and her breath catch in her throat. Why is she doing this? What does she aim to gain from... from tickling me? A thought that burned solely within the deep confines of her very mind. Vivian could feel the breath coming out through her nose a bit faster, while at the same time this damned woman's vile fingers continued to caress her thighs in their infinite quest for answers. Answers I don't ha-ahave because she has asked not a single damned quehehestion!!
Doing her best to keep still, the girl closed her eyes and concentrated on whatever her mind could conjure up; anything to rid herself of those damnable ticklish touches sending jolts along her legs.
Sillien... Arynia oh goddesses divine, why have I been chosen to suffer so? Give me the strength I need in this, my time of utmost need!
With the human's attentions focused on trying to keep what little of her senses still remained intact, It was taking all of Zeallia's restraint to continue on with this little “game” of hers. True... this was perhaps most unorthodox, maybe even a tad nonsensical. However, it dawned within her that the opportunities she was afforded to act upon the more... hedonistic tendencies she had were few and far between these days. Her captives might think it was strange that she act in the way she currently was, but they knew not of what lie in store for them in the time to come. Let them think what they please, she thought while the hapless prey shivered and shook to her every whim, all the while beginning to expel that sweet, sweet laughter. In the end, I'll get what I desire.
The thought brought a smile to her lips, and not a moment too soon, for she she had finally reached Lestraghe's bound ankles. Truth be told, there were many things Zeallia admired about the body of a woman. From the curves of a bust, the shape of the hips, the slender form of the legs... it made her shudder to even think such thoughts. Perhaps what enticed her most of all was in fact how easily manipulated the body of a woman could be.
Vivian was visibly shuddering now, holding her breath for that inevitable moment upon which those wicked hands would indeed touch those horribly sensitive feet she possessed. Though her entire body was sensitive under the right touches, it seemed that her feet were even more so. Ironically enough, she too had not felt a lover's caress in some time. Granted, it was due in part to the stringent duties of her occupation; such work did not allow for what most would consider “frivolous” endeavors from the fairer sex. The memories of her last shared encounter had left a longing of sorts within her mind, and it had seemed that her body had reacted in much the same way now, whether consciously or not.
“So, you like that, do you?”
“......”
“Ever the quiet, I see. No matter; your toes curling tell me all I need to know.”
The knight's breath caught as the fingertips touched her very soles, tracing a path until coming to rest at the base of her slender toes. Memories of her meeting with Sadun began filling her thoughts. Funny, how the touch of this woman now could dredge up thoughts of a better time.
With a quick flip of his arms, she felt her legs being propped over-top his shoulders. Her fingers clutched at the sheets while his throbbing member inched its way inside of her womanhood. When he was finally all in, his hands pulled her feet down and brought them together in front of his face. She recalled feeling his hips begin to rhythmically pull and push, driving himself deeper into her wanton sex.
“Anyone ever tell you what delightful feet you have, Viv?”
A single moan escaped her lips, while she struggled to maintain some sort of composure amidst the thralls of pleasure. “Uhn... N-Not too many have seen my bare feet, S..Sadun.”
He laughed before planting a firm kiss upon the very middle of her right instep. “That's too bad. If only they could see how much you like having them played with.”
As quickly as these thoughts came to her, they receded just the same, leaving her thankful to say the very least. Vivian could feel her cheeks beginning to burn at the mere remembrance of that night.
“You know I must admit... you've got quite a sensitive body, it seems. Such a shame that I have to use it against you...” the woman chided while crossing her arms beneath her bosom. The younger woman could feel her crawling eyes upon her nude form, no doubt drinking in the responses she got from merely playing with her captive's feet.
“... Go to hell.” the honey-haired dame spat, lifting her head off the stone just enough to cast a glare towards her captor.
Reaching down upon a nearby end-table, the inquisitor picked up a leather hood of sorts. She proceeded to tug it down over the girl's head and tighten the small strings around it, securing it around her eyes. Now that the knight was blinded, she could really begin her work. Zeallia sat down upon her own chair and began tugging off her boots, setting them down as she picked up the small leather-bound journal. “I'll give you one, final chance to tell me what I want, Lestraghe. Consider this a final warning of things to come.” Determined in her resolve, the dame thought better of opening her mouth. Even though she was now blinded and couldn't see what was about to happen, she simply couldn't betray her kinsman.
“... So that's it then? Silence?”
With a wave of her hands, the small tools and trinkets came to life. Each of the six different objects hovered over a part of the woman's nude figure, poised to strike with total efficiency. Bringing her own feet to rest on the jutting feature of the stone table, Zeallia herself had the feathery tip of a single quill pen hovering before her pale feet. Another one of her tendencies, she supposed. With a snap of her fingers, the objects began to mindlessly move back and forth against the supple skin of the bound girl, and the response was instantaneous.
“Oh gods! Oh! Hee hehehe ahaha!” she snickered; feeling a twang of anger at herself for not seeing this coming.
The laughter came, and all without so much as a warning. Vivian tried her best to dam up the trickles of laughter that came bursting forth from inside, but to no avail. She could feel her body instinctively pulling against the bonds, stretching them as much as they would allow.. “Aaahehehahaha!!!” she cried out, feeling the feather-pens fluttering about inside the hollows of her underarms. At the same time she was being accosted there, she felt the sensations of two rather large bristled brushes stroking up the deep arches of her tender feet. Her panicked giggling reverberated off of the stone walls and seemed to add to the effect of her laughter. It seemed that the tickling at her arms and feet had made her forget for a second of the feathers working in tandem to flutter and caress across her taut stomach. Her laughter was a melody of high-pitched giggling and guffaws, growing and falling in tone as the tools continued to prod and brush across her body.
“Ooohhoohoeeeheheaaha! Myhahaihihi f-feeaahahaha!!
Off to her right, sat the sorceress responsible for this induced madness. She too was delighted at the response her tools were extracting from her unwitting victim. Though she also felt the feather at her own feet; slowly licking a path up one of her pale soles, and then teasingly down the other. It was enough to stir a fire within her stomach, slowly etching its way towards her own womanhood. Zeallia's fingers clutched at the journal with one hand as her other began taking notes on her subject, all while a smile began appearing upon her own face.
By this time, the brushes began to swish across the tops of Lestraghe's toes, slowly coming around before burying themselves into the backsides of those delicate things. The dame's toes spread open and wriggled furiously as if trying to ward off the brushes, but sadly, this was a futile attempt. “Ohahahaha pleeheheheeheaase! Nahahahahaahat THEAAHAHA~”
Every so often a giggle would worm its way out from behind Zeallia's own mouth, only to be lost in the sea of delicious laughter that Vivian was so “willingly” able to expel for her. The combination of the girl's laughter in tandem with the feather fluttering about her feet made her arch back in her chair, sending a shudder down her spine until she could feel it in the tips of her toes.
Ohh.... Mmm, Yes... hehehee!
The sorceress had spent too long without this experience, she had begun thinking. For a minute, she forgot why she had even instigated this unique little “investigation”. With every minute that passed, it was becoming clear that she was too wrapped up in satisfying the insatiable desires that had been pent up within her very being for far too long.
Zeallia opened her eyes once more, looking on at the writhing mess that was Vivian Lestraghe. The young woman was shaking her head in laughing agony; the feathers at her hips had moved down to in-between her legs, gently dragging across the smooth skin surrounding her sex. The brushes at her feet had traded places with the ones at her sides, each doing it's part to find new ways to make her laugh even more. Zeallia looked on as one of the feathers began to slide down into the crevices between the girl's toes, fluttering between for a few seconds before dragging up the next and repeating the agonizing process.
“Gahahahaaa!! Nahahawt maahahahaieee toes... Ooohhheeheeeaahaa~”
What had been pure laughter soon turned into an intoxicating mixture of laughter and moans. The brushes slowly flicked across her bare breasts, seemingly content with the new reactions she was providing. Like with Zeallia, the feathers painstakingly moving between her toes had settled on slowly licking up her soles before dragging themselves across the balls of her feet in a smooth, simple motion. Even the feathers attacking her womanhood seemed to change their pace: one swishing across the lips to her sex while another teased along the ridges of the small strip of hair right above it.
If this keeps up... I doubt I'll be able to keep from helping myself...
Cazmate could hear her inner voice speaking to her, all the while she took it upon herself to set the book she had been clutching onto down. Not surprisingly, she had noticed that her words began running together the more she listened to the spectacle going on before her. The warm sensation that had been building up had now moved wholly down to her loins. The pale witch could feel her animalistic hungers growing deep inside of her, but still kept in check thanks to her conscientious efforts. Her tongue licked across her reddened lips, as she felt herself beginning to giggle and moan out louder in conjunction with the knight's own cries of mercy.
Should Vivian not have been blindfolded, she too might have began to notice the changes taking place within the woman who held her captive. Zeallia's eyes were beginning to glow brighter; and her incisors began to lengthen and poke out over her lower lip. Unfortunately, thanks in part to the magically controlled items, she was making too much noise herself to notice these small changes taking place before her. Uhn... heeheahaha... Oh... n-not theehhehere....
The vampiric woman sitting next to her had had enough. Her hands flew to the straps holding her pants to her curvy frame and quickly loosened them, before she pulled them and her undergarments from her legs completely. Zeallia quickly found herself climbing on top of the stone structure holding Vivian, straddling over-top the younger woman's stomach.
Confused at the sudden weight over top of her, Vivian arched off the slab. “Ahhaha!? WhaaHAHAEEH Whaatahahaa!?
“Heahhahahee... Uhnnn~ More... Come on now... surely you can do better than this!” the woman hissed out in reply to the girl's half-attempted question. With yet another snap of the fingers, the instruments changed where they tickled. Instead of focusing entirely on the girl held down, they split in purpose and tickled both women instead. Zeallia pushed herself up off from the dame's stomach, opting to prop herself up on her knees. Both of them began feeling the many feathers working in tandem on their respective sexes; gliding up one before switching to the other. The brushes had opted to do the same at their feet, seeing as they were next to each other as well. It was a simple, routine path, but one that obviously satiated their desires combined, whether admittedly or not.
By this time, Vivian's laughter had mostly calmed down, only being reduced to a hapless giggling and wigging in lieu of all out guffaws and thrashing. Now that her very womanhood was under attack by many differing feathers, she had forgone trying to keep from moaning out. Her body felt slickened by the light sweat breaking out across it, even in the coolness of the dungeon. Zeallia on the other hand, was earnestly watching the squirming girl beneath her own teased and titillated form. She could feel the ample feathers licking up across her throbbing sex, sometimes even daring to flutter against her swollen button. At the same time, she could feel her own feet getting the same treatment; specifically against the balls of her feet, and in between her toes she so eagerly spread open.
Was this her intentions all along? To submit me through acts of sex alone?
The knight didn't know what to believe now. Though it seemed apparent that this was indeed her intent, in the back of her mind she felt as though there was still perhaps something more heinous to come. Not a moment after that particular line of thought passed through, she could feel warm breath nipping against her left shoulder. It started to move along her neck, almost eagerly kissing against her earlobe.
“It's been some time since I've felt this... alive.” she purred. Vivian could undoubtedly hear the lust dripping off of each word she spoke, both exciting her, and frightening her at the same time. The sorceress's words had a certain sweet charm to them, seemingly invading her thoughts as well. A tongue, undoubtedly Zeallia's very own, began to gently move along the nape of her neck, pulling forth a slew of high-pitched giggles rife with shuddering. Down to her collarbone the serpentine-like tongue drew, until she began to feel the sadistic woman began planting kisses all along her shoulder. Soft... sensual stimulation; indeed, coupled with the ever-present teasing occurring down below at her loins, the captured knight was now fearing losing herself in this maddening battle of willpower.
Goddesses divine... Oh pleheheasehee... I can't... Can't take t-this~
Above her, she could hear the sorceress moan out through clenched teeth. The girl's womanhood was absolutely throbbing now at the touch of all the feathery devices. The tickling at her feet had also lessened drastically now, allowing her somewhat of a reprieve to collect her thoughts as best she could. Zeallia's eyes fell down to the knight's gently swaying breasts with nipples sticking up like little buds. Though she herself was feeling the effects of her own wanton needs, she couldn't help but feel a dry, scratchy sensation at the back of her throat. The knees holding her up were beginning to sway, thanks in part to the tickling now moving up her calves, and the feathers now probably soaked with her juices and lust.
What was perhaps the most ironic thing, out of anything that could have taken place down below in this dank, little walled off room, was that the sorceress's plan hadn't even began to take shape yet. Indeed, the beginning was nigh approaching though, of that she was absolutely sure.
She leaned down closer this time, until her face rested against the bound girl's shoulder. By now, her eyes were a glowing, fiery-reddish hue, and her teeth sharpened to their fullest.
This has been a treat, but the time for games is over. There is still much work to be had.
“I know what you desire, Lestraghe... I know what your body needs.”
Light touches from her fingertips cascaded against the dame's breasts, rubbing them gingerly before gently flicking against the soft pliable nipples.
I... I won't. I'll not allow this... this whore to turn me into her plaything!
Even if her mind resisted the urges to give in, her body was another thing entirely. Her hips arched off the table, almost touching Zeallia's body in some pitiful attempt to entice her. Ever-so-slowly, Vivian's captor trailed her fingertips down the knight's taut stomach, gently encircling her soaking sex. Zeallia waited and watched, always loving this part in particular. The very moment where her victims would either give in to her whim, or try to endure until their body eventually turned against them. Squirming beneath this fiendish harlot, Lestraghe could feel her honey-hued hair sticking to her face beneath the hood. Her breaths were becoming rapid and she felt as though the fire within her loins would consume her very being any moment now.
One fingertip gently passed over the hungry lips of her womanhood. A touch so subtle, but one so powerful in and of itself. It was due to that simple gesture that the knight's mind had been made for her. A powerful sensation pulsated through her very being, reaching all the way down to her very toes before shooting up throughout her legs. With a loud groan, her back arched and then another powerful wave of unmitigated bliss coursed through her entire being, causing her to almost choke out a scream. Vivian gasped out loud, utterly shocked at how powerful that one touch had proved to be.
“Oh... already finished? I was expecting... something more... weren't you?” came the teasing voice again, this time right up against her ear.
“... Y-yes... Ple... Please...” she gasped out, voice hoarse from all the laughing.
It seemed as though the sorceress was right once again. As valiant as this knight was, she was still but a human, after all. “If you so wish... now, just close your eyes... and it'll be over in a moment.”
The teasing fingers slowly moved past the lips into her awaiting womanhood, beginning to scratch at the sides before sliding in and out. Zeallia's eyes fell upon her neck once more, while her head leaned in to finally claim her prize. “AhheeeheheaAHAEHAHHHH!” came the hapless woman's cries as the first orgasm took hold of her body. Her back arched fully off the cold stone slab as the sensations sped throughout her body as if she were caught in a tidal wave. At the same time Vivian became lost in the thralls of pleasure, was in fact the moment that the teeth of her vampiric captor pierced the flesh of her neck. Deep, punctured holes that a steady trickle of blood flowed from, eagerly lapped up by the pale sorceress.
“Oh... Uhnnehehahah... oh– Aaaahh~ AHHH!!”
Another orgasm; and not even a minute after the first. This one came on just as the last, even feeling more powerful than the first. How can such a thing even be possible?
“OH~ AheeEEHeeheahaAAHEEIII!!!” Vivian could feel her legs beginning to quiver and shake, still feeling the sensations of the feathers sweeping across her thighs now, as the ticklish sensations carried on. Her toes scrunched and splayed with the shuddering waves radiating from her hungry sex. Her back felt as though it were about to snap from the intense, rhythmic spasms. During all of this, she had nary a clue what this wicked woman was truly doing to her.
Perhaps if she had known, she wouldn't have felt as good as she was... though perhaps it wouldn't matter, in the end. It was as if waves of euphoric radiance now took hold of her body, causing her eyelids to become heavier and heavier with each passing second. After this third orgasm, she could feel her muscles relaxing while she came down to rest upon the stone slab once more. Even the ticking at her thighs and stomach were becoming less noticeable; truly a blessing in disguise, if nothing else. Vivian's world was beginning to turn dark, as she finally began feeling the effects of her tiredness.
I... have....... t....o...
Next to her, the vampiric woman was still eagerly lapping and sucking up her blood, letting her tongue flick and drag across each and every inch of the woman's neck. She could feel the blood seeping out form around her lower lip, no doubt staining the girl's radiant skin. It had all happened in the span of just a minute or two. That was all it had taken to finally break this vexatious girl.
Zeallia had finally pulled away, some minute or so later, feeling the droplets of blood running down her fangs and onto her lower lip. She gazed down at her captured beauty, wondering for a moment if she had died from shock, or simply died from loss of blood. The quivering and moaning had ceased, leaving the room awfully silent. She too was feeling the effects of the festivities, crawling off the stone table and falling into the chair next to it while her tickling tools floated back to rest upon the nearby desk.
For a good minute, she lay back, feeling the beads of sweat matting her hair to her face and neck. However tired she was, the thirst she felt had indeed been slaked; more-so than it had in a good while, even. The witch's eyes fluttered open, as her serpent-like tongue licked up the remaining blood on her lips. Her gaze fell upon the knight's chest, as she noticed it rising and falling ever-so-gently. “Mmm... Ha..hahah,” she snickered, running the fingertips of her left hand through her hair. “So... you didn't die... Ah... so be it then.”
The next few minutes were spent in silence. The crackling sound of the burning wicks on the walls provided the only source of distraction for the witch. However slaked her thirst had been, she had still a burning desire between her own legs. Perhaps she would find one of the guards and have her way with him as well tonight.
A smile crept upon her face, as she quickly waved her hand in a dismissive manner. Hah, that's rich. No... I've no time for petty sex now. Now I've to prepare for the coming days... Yes. I'll learn all I need to by then.
Soon enough, she would have the power she so desired. And if she could tear the two kingdoms apart in the process?
Well... so be it then.
OK! Enough plugging. When I wrote this earlier this year, I originally wanted this to be a one-off piece, but later decided to make it into a Trilogy instead. Dunno why I can't settle on just doing two-story increments, but alas, I digress. The name was an odd one, because I didn't originally know what to call it. I think I honestly just wanted it to be reminiscent of Sun Tzu's "Art of War", without sounding too cliched in doing so. Those of you with keen perception will be able to tell where the WAR acronym gets its meaning from. Anyway, the name works at least, and I'm satisfied with this first installation, so what more can I hope for?
On an aside, currently trying to get back into writing. Due to being a full time student, and working 30+ hours a week my free time is rather stringent. Hopefully my rust isn't too bad, and I've a few works placed on the back-burner that need touching up here and there before they're posted.
- - - - -
“Move along! Come on now, why must you be so difficult!?”
The sounds of jingling chains reverberated off of the stone walls in the corridor. Upon a closer inspection, one would find that the origin of the sounds came from a young woman, presently moving through the long hall with two men at each side. Every now and again, the being in question would look over her shoulder towards the guards escorting her.
“Listen wench, if I were you, I'd keep my attention straight a'ead.” one spoke up, patting at the broadsword sheathed onto his waist in a suggestive manner.
The woman scoffed, not at all unnerved at the man's gesture or keen choice of words. “I bade you try it.”
“Why you– !” he hissed; another guard at his right stopped him as he began unsheathing the weathered blade. “Aye, now hold just a moment, dammit! You kill her, and the it'll be your head to find the gallows rope next! Just ignore her, for fuck's sake.”
For the first time in days, Vivian actually laughed. Amidst the grumbling from the guard and the clinking of the chains around her wrists, the sounds of her laughter were a much needed reprieve from the glaringly bleak outlook of her situation. She knew that her time on this earth was soon coming to an end; t'was the price to pay for being captured by an enemy army, she surmised. The hallway came to a fork, and the duo ushered her off to the left. They began passing cells, both empty, and occupied. Some of the men and women inside threw out disparaging comments to her, while others merely chucked or tried to heckle the guards. Through the taunts and verbal abuse, the dame kept her head held high. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her broken; a personal promise more than anything.
Truth be told, she was tired... exhausted was more like it. The events of the last few days seemed but a blur to her, though the outcome could hardly be ignored. Vivian Lestraghe was a knight under the command of Duke Karmalin Eslion. He had personally sent her, along with a dozen or so of her fellow knights in company to investigate some odd rumors from a small settlement on the border of Eslion's territory. The rumors spoke of a new type of weapon that the neighboring de facto ruler, Torghidal Bunza had been trying out in the mountains bordering Eslion's territory. If the rumors held true, it seemed that Torghidal's forces would be neigh impossible to defeat, should they manage to get this “creation” operational.
They had ridden for days, stopping only for rest when their beasts could go on no longer.
Upon finally reaching the town proper with the waning sun falling at their backs, the knights had unknowingly stumbled into an ambush. Weary from their travels, the stood no chance at countering the forces Bunza had ordered to invade the city.
It had been a small battalion under the command of Ozlond Barbatos; a knight commander whom had made quite a bloodied reputation for himself from the tales whispered throughout Eslion's lands.
Since she was but a child, she had been told stories of how for many generations, the Eslions and the Bunzas had been at war with one another, vying for dominion over the country. Sensing that her troop stood no chance against the militant strength that Barbatos no doubt commanded, she had ordered part of her arcane guard to begin setting the settlement ablaze while retreating towards the foothills of the mountain range. Not the type to merely watch his prey escape, Ozlond gave chase, forcing her and a small detachment to act as bait so that her other troops could escape mostly unscathed.
This was the outcome she now found herself in, a prisoner of Torghidal Bunza. Running her troops down and besting her in battle had left a discouraging feeling to fester within herself. Barbatos had the nerve to even slaughter some of her troops whom had laid down their swords even after the battle had been decided. The corrupted knight had sent her off to the grand prison in the heart of the enemy capital, Illiam, while he continued on after her fellow soldiers left behind. His campaign would no doubt be a bloodied one, as his intent was to draw the ire of Eslion's troops towards the border between the two kingdoms.
“My good dame– ” he chided, tapping the point of his blade underneath her chin while she looked up at him from upon the ground. “–It seems luck was not on your side this night.” Ozlond motioned with his head for her to stand, to which she begrudgingly obliged. She clasped her hand over the trickling wound upon her sword arm, feeling the warm blood soak through her iron gauntlet. She watched as a few guards approached her, ripping her arms behind her before binding them completely.“Hopefully you'll find your stay within our lands to be a fair one... Hahahaha!!”
Things were grim, but still, she held steadfast in the hope that she could find a way to escape. If not through force, then by some other means...
“Hold; we've arrived–“ the man in front of her spoke before throwing open two large, iron doors. He stepped aside and gestured for her to follow. Vivian hesitated, looking around, but was surprised to find no one else within. “– What's wrong? The accommodations not to your liking, Lestraghe?” he spat before crossing his arms. “... Call me a purist, but you could have at least brought me somewhere a bit more... homely. These prison wards just leave too much to be desired... don't you think?” she contentiously retorted with a smirk. All at once, she felt a sharp throbbing pain from the strike of a pommel upon her lower back, causing her to fall upon her knees. “Don't get smart with us, you bitch. You're lucky to be someone of relevant use around here. If it were any other case, I would have already lopped that pretty head off from atop your shoulders.” came the chastising remark from the guard behind her.
Wincing through the pain, she quickly rose once more, turning and eying the man with eyes ablaze. In a single, powerful motion, she swept her arms across, striking him on the side of the face with her irons. He stumbled back into the wall before falling upon his rear in a dazed stupor.
“Knave! I'll honor you with a sword through the gullet, should I ever escape this hellish place!” she screamed while lunging towards him to continue her attack. Before she could reach the poor sod, a pair of strong arms grabbed her by the waist while simultaneously lifting her off her feet.
The stricken man flew off the wall in a rage, barely restrained by another rotund guard as he reached out to grab hold of her. “Forget the lady inquisitor; I'd spare a gallion to string you up right NOW!” his mighty cries bellowed against the stone walls. Behind them both, they could hear the shouts and commotion coming from the prisoner wards. Vivian kicked out with her legs, managing to hit his arms before he lashed out and seized her, wrenching a boot from around her very foot.
All at once, she felt herself being thrown unceremoniously into the room, landing upon the cold, sturdy stone in a heap while the guards struggled to close the doors behind her. Vivian pushed off the floor, leaping towards the hulking objects and pounding upon them in a fitful rage as they were slammed and barred shut. “Whoreson dogs! You've not heard the last from me! I swear it!”
From the other side of the door came more chastising rebuttal. “You unruly little whore!! You'll get yours, believe you me!”
From the sounds of it, the guard didn't take too kindly to her choice of words. It didn't do much to help her situation, but it did bring a satisfying smirk to her face; that is, once she finally cooled down herself.
Wiggling the toes on her now bare left foot she let out a sigh, wishing the bastards had at least tossed her boot inside before leaving her here. Her hand went up to part the honey colored locks of her long hair from in front of her eyes. Slowly, Vivian turned around, surveying the room while pulling off her other flimsy piece of footwear. The room was large, with a window allowing view towards a hedge-maze of sorts, nestled behind a large mahogany desk. There was another door leading off to somewhere else, as well as an ornate rug covering most of the floor. For that she was partially grateful for, lest she have to walk across cold stone in naught but her bared feet.
Walking the length of the walls, she took note of a number of bookcases, each with a variety of books lying within their shelves. Some seemed to be half-strung, weathered diaries, or something of the sort, while a number were of intellectual pursuits; astrology, gramarye, alchemy and the like. This... inquisitor must be a very learned woman. I've naught seen books like this... except in Ferdinand's study. Unbeknownst to Vivian, another had joined her inside the room. Silent in her approach, she seemed to effortlessly cross the room until she came to rest upon a corner of the large desk. Clad in a blackened dress-shirt with a leather tunic over-top, she began twirling a piece of her wild strewn, ashen colored hair about while waiting for this girl to take notice.
Vivian eventually turned around, stunned to see another soul here in the confines of this small room; I heard no door opening, no footsteps; how did she...?
“Ah... You must be the one I've been hearing about. Our new “guest of honor”, I presume?” the other woman asked, laughing a little at the frivolous title that the guards had bequeathed upon this girl. A lithe smile passed Vivian's face while she watched the other begin twirling a lock of hair. “Guest of honor are hardly the words I would use, though I suppose they'll say as they will, given my sudden arrival here... Forgive my saying, but am I to assume that you must be this whispered inquisitor I've been told about?” Vivian rebuked, watching the woman's eyes light up at the mention of the title.
“Hmm... still calling me that after all this time, are they? All in the namesake of formalities, I suppose... But in any case, here you are. 'Tis both a pleasure, and an honor to behold such a fine warrior as you, Miss... Lestraghe, if I'm not mistaken?” The irons around her wrists clinked as the words seemed to roll of this strange woman's tongue. Something seemed... amiss about all of this. There was also something about this woman that did offend, though Vivian couldn't place whatabouts it was.
Her eyes fell across this strange woman, taking in her brazen, if not a bit haughty appearance. A tight fitting black tunic tucked beneath a leather corset of sorts, which accentuated her buxom features. Around her waist was a set of black breeches; going down and ending with a pair of weathered brown laced boots. The woman was of a pallor sort, though perhaps it was merely due to the position she kept. Her ashen hair fell wildly about her shoulders; appearing almost serpentile. What struck Vivian most odd was not her colour, (or lack thereof), but rather the woman's eyes; dull-reddish, like orbs of dark wine. It was a stark contrast amidst her other... uncanny features.
It was the dame who broke the silence first, snapping back amidst her wandering thoughts. “Yes, that would indeed be me. If I may... who might I be addressing? Surely you've a name other than the title which supersedes you?”
“Ah... how very rude of me–“ the pallor woman began, righting herself upon the floor while crossing her arms beneath her bosom. “–Zeallia Cazmate; confidante and inquisitor to his Lord Highness Bunza.” Vivian looked on at Zeallia, who flashed her a endearing smile before falling quiet once more.
Vivian jostled the shackles confining her wrists together, while she looked out towards the blackening, afternoon sky. “So am I to assume that my being brought here was mere happenstance? Or is there further reason behind it all?” Cazmate began pacing around the woman, eying her up and down while searched for the right words to respond with.
Shapely figure... and such rich color–
The woman's tongue slowly swept across her teeth, she could feel herself beginning to salivate while her eyes wandered this woman's flesh.
–A bit too... brazen for my tastes, but I suppose she'll have to do. I've definitely held worse in my midst, to be sure. But then that makes it all the more interesting in the end, I suppose...
Zeallia stopped behind the woman, leaning in close. Vivian could feel her breath warm on the side of her neck as she began to speak. “To put it simply... Yes, Miss Lestraghe. I've been... tasked, in a sense, to obtain what information I can regarding what you may know about our enemy. Of course, I can't simply kill you, so you've been spared that indignation... for now at least. Then again, you could just tell me what it is I need; perhaps spare both you and I the unfortunate unpleasantries that I'm sure will take place here very soon.” On the back of her neck, the hairs stood up as she began to tense. Something about her words seemed to droll on, though they remained to the point. That irksome, cryptic feeling Vivian had before seemed to be increasing more and more by the minute.
“... Just how exactly do you plan to extract these “secrets” from me then? Starvation? Whippings?” she chimed out, feeling the tickly sensations of the woman's breathing still on her neck. Zeallia chuckled softly, grabbing hold of the girl's shoulders as she leaned in closer. The scent of this young woman was absolutely intoxicating, perhaps too much for her to bear at the moment. Zeallia decided to keep her conversation short and to the point. “Nothing of that nature, I'm afraid. I've special plans in the works for you. Oh yes... very special indeed...” To Vivian, this inquisitor seemed delighted, if not a bit hushed in her efforts to get the hint across.
The dame's skinned tingled, her nerves felt like they were set ablaze at the mere sound of Zeallia's voice. “I think we've wasted enough time here. Let's go somewhere we can discuss things... further.” the woman bade, finally pulling away from the girl altogether. She motioned off towards the door on the far side of the room, giving the girl a small push. Vivian held steadfast, turning around to face the woman. “... And if I refuse?”
Zeallia let out a laugh while she balled her left fist. She eased off and spread her hand open, to which a small flame erupted and hovered over her palm. “It's quite simple, my good dame. Refuse, and I'll char you until there's nothing but a pile of bones and ash. I'll leave the choice to your own discretion.”
The young woman stepped back apprehensively, surprised at Zeallia's nonchalant statement. Vivian was no stranger to the realm of magic, for she had seen it countless times from the warlocks that Karmalin had at his beck and call. No, what surprised her most was how unsettling Zealia's attitude had been; almost as if she were speaking about the weather to a stranger out in the streets...
Around the same time Vivian found herself in the company of that strange woman, it was reaching the waning hours of the afternoon. Dark clouds had billowed down from the Hymaron mountain range just to the outlying city's northwest. The sky was a blackish hue, only waning every so often at the lighting that pierced through the heavens. Traveled roads soon turned into makeshift pebbled stone, leading to, and past, the prison keep. A man poised on top of an aging mare stopped just on the edge of where dirt met stone. From here, he could plainly see the keep, and the guards that patrolled it's weathered parapets. There was a foul stench in the air, though undoubtedly, the poor souls who'd been ordered to guard that hellish place probably thought it was from the nearby stables.
The sods; they seek to thrive on the merits of those in power, yet they fail to realize just whom they've entrusted that power to.
The man could recognize that lingering scent just as he had over the course of the last century. His name was Xindas Lareuxe, once a knight who sought nothing more than to hunt down the creature responsible for the burning of his once great king's capital. It had in reality been over a century and then some, but during his extended time in this mortal realm, the memories of that day had left a lingering wound etched within his soul. A constant reminder that what had once been a noble and just cause for his crusade, had been left to die once he had met the woman responsible for the heinous acts.
He stopped to get off of his stead, running his hand along it's mane as his jaw tightened, fingers slowly clenching around the pommel of his sword.
“You petty man! Where is your goddess now!? Don't you see; she has forsaken you just as she did me, all those years ago.” Zeallia's expression was one of pure anguish. Her fangs were barred for him to see; the rune inscriptions adorning her body began to glow, as an aura started to weave around her curvacious form. “If you are all that stand between me and fulfilling my obligations in this world, then prepare to be torn asunder under the burden that you alone have carried for those fools I killed all those years ago.”
Xindas stepped forward, drawing his sword from it's weathered scabbard. His free hand went into a pocket along his belt and withdrew the charm his youngest sister had given him, just before the catastrophe had happened. He could feel all his anger; the bitter tears biting at the corners of his eyes; all of it, rising within him, threatening to burst from his very soul.
“Sillien's gaze sees all. My faith, and my undying love for what I've lost is what guides my sword, what spurns me onward to end your miserable existence in this world! Ire the goddess and the countless victims of your misguided vendetta no longer!”
Grasping the blade within both hands, he swept it in front of him with all of his strength. What had once been compassionate and loving eyes now harbored malice and a killer's instinct.
He remembered the last words he had thought before the two had clashed. Words that still rang out to him now, even after all this time.
I promise you that yours shall be a most slow and pain-filled death, you insufferable wretch!
Xindas snapped back from his memories. Even through his weathered gauntlets, he could feel the rough edges of the pommel leaving a mark through the leather against his palm. On that day, the gods had seemingly conspired against him. He failed to have his revenge that day. Not only that, but once Zeallia had dealt with him, she had stood over his dying form and merely laughed; not only at himself, but at his ideals and idle threats.
He had thought that she had left him to die; left him to face his family and friends in the afterlife to admit to his defeat. However, once he had regained consciousness, he was pained to discover that he had not in fact died, but rather was at the mercy and care of the one who had caused him to suffer so.
After that fateful encounter, he had grown to resent her even more; if only she had let him suffer and die. Xindas would have been free, free from the burden of memories running through his mind when he slept. Eating away at what was left of his mortal soul.
Instinctively, his hand reached to his neck, clutching at the spots where her jagged fangs had pierced his flesh. Ragged holes upon which the curse she instilled entered and now coursed through his veins. His had been an aimless existence for many years following that day. Lessened to the point of almost complete submission to her whim and desires, a disheartening effect due in part to the curse plaguing his body. Xindas had little choice but to kill any and all who came to try and thwart Zealia's plans to further herself into a position of power within the war-mongering kingdoms.
The fallen knight could feel his neck beginning to throb, almost as if it were an indication that she was really here. The many years he had spent searching might just now pay off. He had come too far, sacrificed too much. Xindas looked down upon his hands, the very same hands he had used to slay human after human for over a century now. His mind began to wander, the thoughts came, just as they always did:
Am I really any better than this vile woman?
Are my hands not just as stained as hers? Have I too not killed for the sheer sake of it?
These were the sort of thoughts that filled his mind. No... he would clean his hands of this ordeal soon enough; he would be able to save his soul, for that had been what had kept him going after all hope had fled.
Soon enough, Zeallia's time would come. There was no escaping the hands of fate, no escaping the will of Sillien. Funny now, how he still made prayer to one of the goddesses, even after being condemned to a walking death. Lareuxe would bide his time for a few days, get a lay of the fortress-like structure. When the opportunity exposed itself, he would strike while he could.
And I promise that the outcome will vastly differ than from before.
Whilst the two women passed a window overlooking the courtyard, a flash of lightening blasted out across the oppressive skyline. It seemed that Zeallia was ushering her off to some sort of dungeon to begin the interrogation. Another set of stairs, and soon, the only lighting was that of candle sconces set upon the wall. Although the passage was heated from the many lights, it was eerily cool. With each step Vivian made, she shuddered at the cool sensations coursing up through her foot-bottoms. Soon enough, the journey was over; as Zeallia lighted two torches with her magical spells.
There was no idle conversations to rouse the spirits; no hint or meager answer to sate Vivian's curiosities about what lie in store for her. For all that her earlier flaunting had suggested, it was obvious now that this seemed a different woman than before. The pale beauty was as quiet as the burning wicks behind her, as she tightened the straps around the girl's wrists. Lestraghe found herself being bound to what appeared to be some sort of rack device. The stiff, almost cold sensations of the leather straps danced across her ligaments and combined with the cold feeling of stone against her backside. Feeling satisfied with the position her captive was in, Cazmate quickly strode over to a small desk nestled against the wall. Next to the slab of stone where Vivian lay was an extension of sorts, to where she hurriedly placed several objects of questionable use. A small leather wrapped book, a few bottles of various colored liquids, several quill pens and a bottle of ink, a few horse hide brushes it seemed, and several long strips of cloth.
The younger woman watched on in silence as Zeallia prowled along the stone slab. Her eyes drank in the girl's form, this time with much less disregard than their prior meeting. “Mmmm...” her voice purred, tongue flicking across her full lips; “Perhaps I was wrong about you, fair dame. At first I judged you based upon those who bore similar rank and title... but now... yes, now I'm sure of it. You are a cut above the rest of them, of that I am quite sure now. Oh, the fun I'm going to have breaking you.” Vivian stared off towards the far corner of the room, doing her best to avoid the callous woman's gazes and off-colored remarks.
It wasn't long after that her attempts at ignoring the woman were dissolved as she felt a finger trailing down her forearm and along her bicep. The sudden sensation caught her off guard, as her mouth twisted into a lopsided grin of sorts. Down into her underarm went the finger, soon joined by one more. They made little swirling motions before blazing a slow path down onto her ribcage. Zeallia watched the girl try and recover her stoic expression, but her sudden outburst gave her all the information that she needed. As her fingertips edged down, soon crossing over the hips, she began to notice the small quivers taking hold of the girls lower lip. These indications would most likely have been lost to anyone other than herself; both due to the low lighting, and the fact that this was a more... unusual approach to “torture”... if one could even call it that.
There were no words exchanged between the two. It seemed that a battle of wills was now taking effect down below in the catacombs of Zeallia's dungeon. The dame felt her captor's fingertips running just above the hemline of where her undergarments would have been. Woman be damned; would she just get on with it!?
Her two fingertips tickled the supple flesh underneath that taut stomach she possessed. The sensations seemed to sow themselves and blossom throughout her body, making her stomach quiver and her breath catch in her throat. Why is she doing this? What does she aim to gain from... from tickling me? A thought that burned solely within the deep confines of her very mind. Vivian could feel the breath coming out through her nose a bit faster, while at the same time this damned woman's vile fingers continued to caress her thighs in their infinite quest for answers. Answers I don't ha-ahave because she has asked not a single damned quehehestion!!
Doing her best to keep still, the girl closed her eyes and concentrated on whatever her mind could conjure up; anything to rid herself of those damnable ticklish touches sending jolts along her legs.
Sillien... Arynia oh goddesses divine, why have I been chosen to suffer so? Give me the strength I need in this, my time of utmost need!
With the human's attentions focused on trying to keep what little of her senses still remained intact, It was taking all of Zeallia's restraint to continue on with this little “game” of hers. True... this was perhaps most unorthodox, maybe even a tad nonsensical. However, it dawned within her that the opportunities she was afforded to act upon the more... hedonistic tendencies she had were few and far between these days. Her captives might think it was strange that she act in the way she currently was, but they knew not of what lie in store for them in the time to come. Let them think what they please, she thought while the hapless prey shivered and shook to her every whim, all the while beginning to expel that sweet, sweet laughter. In the end, I'll get what I desire.
The thought brought a smile to her lips, and not a moment too soon, for she she had finally reached Lestraghe's bound ankles. Truth be told, there were many things Zeallia admired about the body of a woman. From the curves of a bust, the shape of the hips, the slender form of the legs... it made her shudder to even think such thoughts. Perhaps what enticed her most of all was in fact how easily manipulated the body of a woman could be.
Vivian was visibly shuddering now, holding her breath for that inevitable moment upon which those wicked hands would indeed touch those horribly sensitive feet she possessed. Though her entire body was sensitive under the right touches, it seemed that her feet were even more so. Ironically enough, she too had not felt a lover's caress in some time. Granted, it was due in part to the stringent duties of her occupation; such work did not allow for what most would consider “frivolous” endeavors from the fairer sex. The memories of her last shared encounter had left a longing of sorts within her mind, and it had seemed that her body had reacted in much the same way now, whether consciously or not.
“So, you like that, do you?”
“......”
“Ever the quiet, I see. No matter; your toes curling tell me all I need to know.”
The knight's breath caught as the fingertips touched her very soles, tracing a path until coming to rest at the base of her slender toes. Memories of her meeting with Sadun began filling her thoughts. Funny, how the touch of this woman now could dredge up thoughts of a better time.
With a quick flip of his arms, she felt her legs being propped over-top his shoulders. Her fingers clutched at the sheets while his throbbing member inched its way inside of her womanhood. When he was finally all in, his hands pulled her feet down and brought them together in front of his face. She recalled feeling his hips begin to rhythmically pull and push, driving himself deeper into her wanton sex.
“Anyone ever tell you what delightful feet you have, Viv?”
A single moan escaped her lips, while she struggled to maintain some sort of composure amidst the thralls of pleasure. “Uhn... N-Not too many have seen my bare feet, S..Sadun.”
He laughed before planting a firm kiss upon the very middle of her right instep. “That's too bad. If only they could see how much you like having them played with.”
As quickly as these thoughts came to her, they receded just the same, leaving her thankful to say the very least. Vivian could feel her cheeks beginning to burn at the mere remembrance of that night.
“You know I must admit... you've got quite a sensitive body, it seems. Such a shame that I have to use it against you...” the woman chided while crossing her arms beneath her bosom. The younger woman could feel her crawling eyes upon her nude form, no doubt drinking in the responses she got from merely playing with her captive's feet.
“... Go to hell.” the honey-haired dame spat, lifting her head off the stone just enough to cast a glare towards her captor.
Reaching down upon a nearby end-table, the inquisitor picked up a leather hood of sorts. She proceeded to tug it down over the girl's head and tighten the small strings around it, securing it around her eyes. Now that the knight was blinded, she could really begin her work. Zeallia sat down upon her own chair and began tugging off her boots, setting them down as she picked up the small leather-bound journal. “I'll give you one, final chance to tell me what I want, Lestraghe. Consider this a final warning of things to come.” Determined in her resolve, the dame thought better of opening her mouth. Even though she was now blinded and couldn't see what was about to happen, she simply couldn't betray her kinsman.
“... So that's it then? Silence?”
With a wave of her hands, the small tools and trinkets came to life. Each of the six different objects hovered over a part of the woman's nude figure, poised to strike with total efficiency. Bringing her own feet to rest on the jutting feature of the stone table, Zeallia herself had the feathery tip of a single quill pen hovering before her pale feet. Another one of her tendencies, she supposed. With a snap of her fingers, the objects began to mindlessly move back and forth against the supple skin of the bound girl, and the response was instantaneous.
“Oh gods! Oh! Hee hehehe ahaha!” she snickered; feeling a twang of anger at herself for not seeing this coming.
The laughter came, and all without so much as a warning. Vivian tried her best to dam up the trickles of laughter that came bursting forth from inside, but to no avail. She could feel her body instinctively pulling against the bonds, stretching them as much as they would allow.. “Aaahehehahaha!!!” she cried out, feeling the feather-pens fluttering about inside the hollows of her underarms. At the same time she was being accosted there, she felt the sensations of two rather large bristled brushes stroking up the deep arches of her tender feet. Her panicked giggling reverberated off of the stone walls and seemed to add to the effect of her laughter. It seemed that the tickling at her arms and feet had made her forget for a second of the feathers working in tandem to flutter and caress across her taut stomach. Her laughter was a melody of high-pitched giggling and guffaws, growing and falling in tone as the tools continued to prod and brush across her body.
“Ooohhoohoeeeheheaaha! Myhahaihihi f-feeaahahaha!!
Off to her right, sat the sorceress responsible for this induced madness. She too was delighted at the response her tools were extracting from her unwitting victim. Though she also felt the feather at her own feet; slowly licking a path up one of her pale soles, and then teasingly down the other. It was enough to stir a fire within her stomach, slowly etching its way towards her own womanhood. Zeallia's fingers clutched at the journal with one hand as her other began taking notes on her subject, all while a smile began appearing upon her own face.
By this time, the brushes began to swish across the tops of Lestraghe's toes, slowly coming around before burying themselves into the backsides of those delicate things. The dame's toes spread open and wriggled furiously as if trying to ward off the brushes, but sadly, this was a futile attempt. “Ohahahaha pleeheheheeheaase! Nahahahahaahat THEAAHAHA~”
Every so often a giggle would worm its way out from behind Zeallia's own mouth, only to be lost in the sea of delicious laughter that Vivian was so “willingly” able to expel for her. The combination of the girl's laughter in tandem with the feather fluttering about her feet made her arch back in her chair, sending a shudder down her spine until she could feel it in the tips of her toes.
Ohh.... Mmm, Yes... hehehee!
The sorceress had spent too long without this experience, she had begun thinking. For a minute, she forgot why she had even instigated this unique little “investigation”. With every minute that passed, it was becoming clear that she was too wrapped up in satisfying the insatiable desires that had been pent up within her very being for far too long.
Zeallia opened her eyes once more, looking on at the writhing mess that was Vivian Lestraghe. The young woman was shaking her head in laughing agony; the feathers at her hips had moved down to in-between her legs, gently dragging across the smooth skin surrounding her sex. The brushes at her feet had traded places with the ones at her sides, each doing it's part to find new ways to make her laugh even more. Zeallia looked on as one of the feathers began to slide down into the crevices between the girl's toes, fluttering between for a few seconds before dragging up the next and repeating the agonizing process.
“Gahahahaaa!! Nahahawt maahahahaieee toes... Ooohhheeheeeaahaa~”
What had been pure laughter soon turned into an intoxicating mixture of laughter and moans. The brushes slowly flicked across her bare breasts, seemingly content with the new reactions she was providing. Like with Zeallia, the feathers painstakingly moving between her toes had settled on slowly licking up her soles before dragging themselves across the balls of her feet in a smooth, simple motion. Even the feathers attacking her womanhood seemed to change their pace: one swishing across the lips to her sex while another teased along the ridges of the small strip of hair right above it.
If this keeps up... I doubt I'll be able to keep from helping myself...
Cazmate could hear her inner voice speaking to her, all the while she took it upon herself to set the book she had been clutching onto down. Not surprisingly, she had noticed that her words began running together the more she listened to the spectacle going on before her. The warm sensation that had been building up had now moved wholly down to her loins. The pale witch could feel her animalistic hungers growing deep inside of her, but still kept in check thanks to her conscientious efforts. Her tongue licked across her reddened lips, as she felt herself beginning to giggle and moan out louder in conjunction with the knight's own cries of mercy.
Should Vivian not have been blindfolded, she too might have began to notice the changes taking place within the woman who held her captive. Zeallia's eyes were beginning to glow brighter; and her incisors began to lengthen and poke out over her lower lip. Unfortunately, thanks in part to the magically controlled items, she was making too much noise herself to notice these small changes taking place before her. Uhn... heeheahaha... Oh... n-not theehhehere....
The vampiric woman sitting next to her had had enough. Her hands flew to the straps holding her pants to her curvy frame and quickly loosened them, before she pulled them and her undergarments from her legs completely. Zeallia quickly found herself climbing on top of the stone structure holding Vivian, straddling over-top the younger woman's stomach.
Confused at the sudden weight over top of her, Vivian arched off the slab. “Ahhaha!? WhaaHAHAEEH Whaatahahaa!?
“Heahhahahee... Uhnnn~ More... Come on now... surely you can do better than this!” the woman hissed out in reply to the girl's half-attempted question. With yet another snap of the fingers, the instruments changed where they tickled. Instead of focusing entirely on the girl held down, they split in purpose and tickled both women instead. Zeallia pushed herself up off from the dame's stomach, opting to prop herself up on her knees. Both of them began feeling the many feathers working in tandem on their respective sexes; gliding up one before switching to the other. The brushes had opted to do the same at their feet, seeing as they were next to each other as well. It was a simple, routine path, but one that obviously satiated their desires combined, whether admittedly or not.
By this time, Vivian's laughter had mostly calmed down, only being reduced to a hapless giggling and wigging in lieu of all out guffaws and thrashing. Now that her very womanhood was under attack by many differing feathers, she had forgone trying to keep from moaning out. Her body felt slickened by the light sweat breaking out across it, even in the coolness of the dungeon. Zeallia on the other hand, was earnestly watching the squirming girl beneath her own teased and titillated form. She could feel the ample feathers licking up across her throbbing sex, sometimes even daring to flutter against her swollen button. At the same time, she could feel her own feet getting the same treatment; specifically against the balls of her feet, and in between her toes she so eagerly spread open.
Was this her intentions all along? To submit me through acts of sex alone?
The knight didn't know what to believe now. Though it seemed apparent that this was indeed her intent, in the back of her mind she felt as though there was still perhaps something more heinous to come. Not a moment after that particular line of thought passed through, she could feel warm breath nipping against her left shoulder. It started to move along her neck, almost eagerly kissing against her earlobe.
“It's been some time since I've felt this... alive.” she purred. Vivian could undoubtedly hear the lust dripping off of each word she spoke, both exciting her, and frightening her at the same time. The sorceress's words had a certain sweet charm to them, seemingly invading her thoughts as well. A tongue, undoubtedly Zeallia's very own, began to gently move along the nape of her neck, pulling forth a slew of high-pitched giggles rife with shuddering. Down to her collarbone the serpentine-like tongue drew, until she began to feel the sadistic woman began planting kisses all along her shoulder. Soft... sensual stimulation; indeed, coupled with the ever-present teasing occurring down below at her loins, the captured knight was now fearing losing herself in this maddening battle of willpower.
Goddesses divine... Oh pleheheasehee... I can't... Can't take t-this~
Above her, she could hear the sorceress moan out through clenched teeth. The girl's womanhood was absolutely throbbing now at the touch of all the feathery devices. The tickling at her feet had also lessened drastically now, allowing her somewhat of a reprieve to collect her thoughts as best she could. Zeallia's eyes fell down to the knight's gently swaying breasts with nipples sticking up like little buds. Though she herself was feeling the effects of her own wanton needs, she couldn't help but feel a dry, scratchy sensation at the back of her throat. The knees holding her up were beginning to sway, thanks in part to the tickling now moving up her calves, and the feathers now probably soaked with her juices and lust.
What was perhaps the most ironic thing, out of anything that could have taken place down below in this dank, little walled off room, was that the sorceress's plan hadn't even began to take shape yet. Indeed, the beginning was nigh approaching though, of that she was absolutely sure.
She leaned down closer this time, until her face rested against the bound girl's shoulder. By now, her eyes were a glowing, fiery-reddish hue, and her teeth sharpened to their fullest.
This has been a treat, but the time for games is over. There is still much work to be had.
“I know what you desire, Lestraghe... I know what your body needs.”
Light touches from her fingertips cascaded against the dame's breasts, rubbing them gingerly before gently flicking against the soft pliable nipples.
I... I won't. I'll not allow this... this whore to turn me into her plaything!
Even if her mind resisted the urges to give in, her body was another thing entirely. Her hips arched off the table, almost touching Zeallia's body in some pitiful attempt to entice her. Ever-so-slowly, Vivian's captor trailed her fingertips down the knight's taut stomach, gently encircling her soaking sex. Zeallia waited and watched, always loving this part in particular. The very moment where her victims would either give in to her whim, or try to endure until their body eventually turned against them. Squirming beneath this fiendish harlot, Lestraghe could feel her honey-hued hair sticking to her face beneath the hood. Her breaths were becoming rapid and she felt as though the fire within her loins would consume her very being any moment now.
One fingertip gently passed over the hungry lips of her womanhood. A touch so subtle, but one so powerful in and of itself. It was due to that simple gesture that the knight's mind had been made for her. A powerful sensation pulsated through her very being, reaching all the way down to her very toes before shooting up throughout her legs. With a loud groan, her back arched and then another powerful wave of unmitigated bliss coursed through her entire being, causing her to almost choke out a scream. Vivian gasped out loud, utterly shocked at how powerful that one touch had proved to be.
“Oh... already finished? I was expecting... something more... weren't you?” came the teasing voice again, this time right up against her ear.
“... Y-yes... Ple... Please...” she gasped out, voice hoarse from all the laughing.
It seemed as though the sorceress was right once again. As valiant as this knight was, she was still but a human, after all. “If you so wish... now, just close your eyes... and it'll be over in a moment.”
The teasing fingers slowly moved past the lips into her awaiting womanhood, beginning to scratch at the sides before sliding in and out. Zeallia's eyes fell upon her neck once more, while her head leaned in to finally claim her prize. “AhheeeheheaAHAEHAHHHH!” came the hapless woman's cries as the first orgasm took hold of her body. Her back arched fully off the cold stone slab as the sensations sped throughout her body as if she were caught in a tidal wave. At the same time Vivian became lost in the thralls of pleasure, was in fact the moment that the teeth of her vampiric captor pierced the flesh of her neck. Deep, punctured holes that a steady trickle of blood flowed from, eagerly lapped up by the pale sorceress.
“Oh... Uhnnehehahah... oh– Aaaahh~ AHHH!!”
Another orgasm; and not even a minute after the first. This one came on just as the last, even feeling more powerful than the first. How can such a thing even be possible?
“OH~ AheeEEHeeheahaAAHEEIII!!!” Vivian could feel her legs beginning to quiver and shake, still feeling the sensations of the feathers sweeping across her thighs now, as the ticklish sensations carried on. Her toes scrunched and splayed with the shuddering waves radiating from her hungry sex. Her back felt as though it were about to snap from the intense, rhythmic spasms. During all of this, she had nary a clue what this wicked woman was truly doing to her.
Perhaps if she had known, she wouldn't have felt as good as she was... though perhaps it wouldn't matter, in the end. It was as if waves of euphoric radiance now took hold of her body, causing her eyelids to become heavier and heavier with each passing second. After this third orgasm, she could feel her muscles relaxing while she came down to rest upon the stone slab once more. Even the ticking at her thighs and stomach were becoming less noticeable; truly a blessing in disguise, if nothing else. Vivian's world was beginning to turn dark, as she finally began feeling the effects of her tiredness.
I... have....... t....o...
Next to her, the vampiric woman was still eagerly lapping and sucking up her blood, letting her tongue flick and drag across each and every inch of the woman's neck. She could feel the blood seeping out form around her lower lip, no doubt staining the girl's radiant skin. It had all happened in the span of just a minute or two. That was all it had taken to finally break this vexatious girl.
Zeallia had finally pulled away, some minute or so later, feeling the droplets of blood running down her fangs and onto her lower lip. She gazed down at her captured beauty, wondering for a moment if she had died from shock, or simply died from loss of blood. The quivering and moaning had ceased, leaving the room awfully silent. She too was feeling the effects of the festivities, crawling off the stone table and falling into the chair next to it while her tickling tools floated back to rest upon the nearby desk.
For a good minute, she lay back, feeling the beads of sweat matting her hair to her face and neck. However tired she was, the thirst she felt had indeed been slaked; more-so than it had in a good while, even. The witch's eyes fluttered open, as her serpent-like tongue licked up the remaining blood on her lips. Her gaze fell upon the knight's chest, as she noticed it rising and falling ever-so-gently. “Mmm... Ha..hahah,” she snickered, running the fingertips of her left hand through her hair. “So... you didn't die... Ah... so be it then.”
The next few minutes were spent in silence. The crackling sound of the burning wicks on the walls provided the only source of distraction for the witch. However slaked her thirst had been, she had still a burning desire between her own legs. Perhaps she would find one of the guards and have her way with him as well tonight.
A smile crept upon her face, as she quickly waved her hand in a dismissive manner. Hah, that's rich. No... I've no time for petty sex now. Now I've to prepare for the coming days... Yes. I'll learn all I need to by then.
Soon enough, she would have the power she so desired. And if she could tear the two kingdoms apart in the process?
Well... so be it then.
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