Farseer Elianwe slowly awoke. Her head ached and her vision was hazy. As she tried to recollect her memory, the last thing she could remember was travelling on a speeder from home to the Seer shrine when she suddenly lost conscious. Whatever happened to her was no accident. It was a deliberate attack. The last thing she recalled, the driver was acting rather suspicious, through for whatever reason, she could not discern the skein at that point to figure out his plan. That they could bypass her divination so easily, someone must have been plotting to target her for a long time.
But who exactly? Admittedly, many Farseers and Warlocks of Craftworld Val’dora were jealous of her power and her abilities to read the skein and predict the future. They had tried to undermine her achievements before, even going as far as claiming her visions as copying from theirs. However, Elianwe could not think of any of them would stoop so low as to do something like this.
Elianwe took in her surroundings. She was lying on a bed, fully clothed. An addition accessory was the strange device strapped to her neck. It did not take long for Elianwe to realize it was created to hamper and nullify her connection to the Warp, making her no more psychically potent than an Eldar who had never walked the Path of the Seer. The chamber was dark and the floor as cold as ice. She did not recall any place like this on the Craftworld.
“Where am I?” she asked aloud. “Which part of the Craftworld is it? I don’t remember any place like this.”
“Because you are not on your Craftworld anymore,” said a voice. It was coarse and very deep. No Eldar would be talking like that. Which meant her captors were humans instead of her own kin. Elianwe was not sure whether she should be glad because her rivals were not that pathetic after all or feel dread at the fact she was at the hand of one of the most savage species in the galaxy. “Your location is classified, but you can call this Inquisitorial Facility Omega.”
Elianwe shuddered at the word. The Inquisition was the organization within the Imperium responsible for waging countless wars against threats from inside and out. Their methods were the most varied of all the factions she knew, not even the vile Forces of Chaos could hope to be as creative as they were. Regardless their modus operandi, the Inquisition were known to be merciless and cruel, mostly necessarily so. Being at the hand of them was one of the worst situations Elianwe could think of.
“And may I ask why I am here?” Elianwe tried to be calm. The Inquisition thrived on fear. She would not let them have the satisfaction. “Surely not even you are above the usual mindless brutes that make up 99% of your population. The Inquisition must always have a purpose. As someone who has been stripped of freedom, I deserve to know why.”
Lights across the chamber were turned on. Elianwe was blinded momentarily by the sudden increase in intensity of light. As she regained her vision, she saw a human in his middle age standing about twenty meters from the bed she was on. He was similar to what she expected from a servant of the humans’ God Emperor, tall and stout, with broad shoulder and a clean shaven head. His clothing was dark-colored with grim engravings on the shoulders and forearms, and he bore the Rosette on his chest.
“I am Inquisitor Kallogg from the Ordo Hereticus,” the human introduced. “I am here to investigate on the so-called alliance you have formed with the armies of the Emperor in the sector and decide whether it should continue of be terminated.”
“You have not answered my question,” Elianwe insisted.
“Take a guess,” said the human, coiling.
“As far as I am concerned, Craftworld Val’dora has a good relationship with the Imperium,” Elianwe replied. “Better yet, we have been trading with one another and have fought together in many battles against the forces of Disorder. Our victories are all shared and not a single defeat has our alliance ever suffered. And yet, for apparent no reason, you abducted me and keep me here against my will. Such act is not just immoral. It is blasphemy.”
“The only thing blasphemy is the way you uphold your side of the deal, Eldar,” said Kallogg. “Our battle, our alliance, our common foe. Those are the words you keep saying, and yet all the difficult jobs are performed by the armies of the Imperium while your people get to do the easy ones. Look at the losses, at the siege of Drak’nir, three hundred thousand of our men and women were killed. And how many did you lose? Six? Only six?”
“Your anger is uncalled for, human,” Elianwe explained. “Millions Orks were slain that day. Thanks to your people providing enough distraction, we were able to infiltrate their command Battle Fortress and destroy it along with the Warboss. Without our combined efforts, losses for your side would be four times larger.”
“And what about the war for Belian V?” the human went on, his rage unabated. Elianwe was beginning to worried he might be one of those crazy puritans who would do anything to discount the Eldar’s role in any occasion where they work together with the Imperium. If that was the case, arguing with him would be a waste of time and her fate already sealed. “An entire regiment was guided by you into the Necron trap. They were annihilated in minutes.”
“Their sacrifice was not in vain,” Elianwe countered. “Because the Necron ambushers show their positions, we were able to route them out and eliminate them. One regiment lost was light compared to what could have happened. After all, if a wolf runs at the shepherd, would he give up some of his livestock to save his life?”
The Inquisitor curled his lips. “Sorry for my lack of sense of humor, but are you saying that we humans are nothing more than livestock to you?”
Elianwe shook her head. She was lost for word. Anything she said at this point could be used as evidence against her. The less she talked, the better. The Craftworld was more than willing to make use of her as a tribute to keep the alliance with the Imperium going.
“You have been using us for your own agenda,” the human spat. “You speak of allying, but only so that you can put us in front of danger instead of yourself. I cannot tolerate this. I WILL not tolerate this. We deserve an apology and a commitment to change your way of doing things from you. Make that promise and I shall let you free.”
Apology? Commitment to change? Who was thing human thinking he was? Elianwe was at the edge of her patience here. His conditions would prove detrimental to the alliance. He knew nothing about the best way to cooperate. His sense of righteousness was blinding him to the truth.
“That, I cannot do,” the Farseer replied sadly.
Kallogg sighed deeply. “I knew you would say that.”
The Inquisitor gave signals and a handful of women clad in white power armor appeared. They were the Adeptus Sororitas, also known as the Sisters of Battle, the chamber militant of the Ordo Hereticus. Though they were unarmed, Elianwe could sense something threatening from them. As these women drew closer, Elianwe summoned her power in defense, only to get nothing. The device at her neck was making it impossible for her to use any of her psychic abilities. Elianwe shirked back. Four human women surrounded her.
“Do not resist, xeno,” said the woman who seemed to the leader judging from her gaudy appearance. Decorations in the form of text scrolls, gold rings and various
other items Elianwe found completely out of place adorned every part of her armor. “Less you want it to be very painful.”
“I won’t,” Elianwe concurred. As much as she hated feeling vulnerable, she saw no other logical option. She could not fight against this many opponents without her weapon or psychic power. Any form of resistance at this point was insensible, if not counterproductive and could lead to her injuries, even death. She reminded herself the humans could not do anything to harm her, or the agreement they had with the Craftworld would be broken.
Not even the Inquisition could bear the wrath of a dozen worlds, scores of Imperial Guard regiments and at least three Space Marine Chapters.
Or could they?
The Sisters of Battle took out some ropes and bound the Eldar at her arms and legs. The callous material squeezed against her wrist and Elianwe suppressed a moan as it brushed hard on her tender skin. Then, they tied them to four corners of the bed, putting her in an eagle spread position.
“You have no right to harm my body, humans,” Elianwe warned. “Any scar on my body, any drop of blood lost, and my Craftworld will not take it easy on you.”
“Who said we are looking forward to harming you, Eldar?” asked on the sisters, a half-smile on her face.
“There are other ways we can do to make you accept this negotiation,” said another. “No pain will be inflicted. Except to your pride, maybe.”
The four Adeptus Sororitas stood at four corners, their intimidating presence having little effect on Elianwe. She would never let anyone, let alone insignificant humans,
to influence her.
Then, one of the sisters began untying her right boot. It took her a while to figure out how to, for the Eldar’s boots were different from those of humans, but eventually, it came off and revealed the white sock inside. The sister began rubbing the Farseer’s foot with both her hands. Elianwe giggled softly at the touch of someone else’s hands on her foot.
“You are enjoying this?” asked the sister holding Elianwe’s right foot. The Eldar was silent in respond. “Guess not, then.”
The sister made a further move by removing the Eldar’s sock. A shiver ran through Elianwe’s spine as her bare foot felt the cold air of the chamber, her five toes
wiggling. She did not like where this was going. Losing a segment of her clothing could never be a good thing, not in this chamber filled with people who were supposed to make her feel as uncomfortable as possible.
“Emperor’s Throne, look at what have we got here,” the sister said excitedly. The Eldar’s foot was well-shaped tender and pale. There was not a single sign of callus on it, the texture hairless and silk-like. Her toes were so delicate they seemed breakable to the slightest of touch. A scent of lemon could be smelled from the shower gel Elianwe used when she took her morning bath today. “Hey, Eldar. I am jealous. Can you share your secret on keeping your feet so cute like that?”
Once again, the Farseer seemed uninterested.
“Have it your way, then,” said the sister as she traced her index finger from the ball across the arch and to the heel, eliciting a soft giggle from the xeno.
“What…what are you trying to do with me?” Elianwe asked. Her heart was throbbing outside her chest as she braced herself for the horror to come.
“Just having a little fun, is that too much to ask for?” the sister replied, a sinister smile running across her face.
Without delay, she began running the front of her fingers on the Eldar’s bare foot, exploring it like a kid playing around with a new toy. The flesh was smooth and creamy. The sister touched every part of the foot before focusing on the toes. She picked them one at a time, pulling on them to get a better view of her own reflection on the glassy nails, and explored the gap between them. Elianwe continued to giggle as she did so. She tried holding back her foot but her effort was in vain. Even with her body unrestrained, the sister would overpower her in any physical struggle. The Farseer’s giggles turned to a surprised moan as the sister placed a kiss on her big toe without warning.
Just as she thought it was not going to get worse, a sister took out her left shoe and sock in the same manner, leaving both her feet exposed. If Elianwe was afraid before, she was truly terrified now.
“Now do you enjoy this?” coiled the first sister.
“Stop,” Elianwe begged. “Don’t.”
“Let me think about that. Hmm, nope.”
The two sisters each brought up a quiver. Before Elianwe could protest, they ran the feather end on her soles, brushing the instep lightly. Then, they moved it up and down in circles. The sensation was overwhelming. Every part of the Eldar body was sensitive, a trait of their race that was both a gift and a curse. It allowed them to feel something more powerfully and experience sensations to the fullest, but as soon as the enemy knew of this, they would not doubt try to exploit this as a weakness.
“No. Cease this at one. This is barbaric.”
The Eldar thrashed in her bonds like a fish out of water, swinging her feet back and forth, left and right to avoid the creeping fingers of the sisters as best she could. Unfortunately, the sisters were more powerful than she thought, not modified as much as Space Marines but still augmented humans nevertheless. They held both her feet in an inescapable lock. Without warning, the second barrage began, faster and more intense than the previous.
“Nohahahaha,” Elianwe cried. “Stop this. Hahahahaha. I hahahah can’t take it.”
The Inquisitor raised a hand and the sisters stopped. As he walked next to the bed, Elianwe finally caught her breath. She was annoyed, however, at being unable to pull the hair which had fallen on her face during her struggle, but one of the sisters graciously did it for her. In retrospective, Elianwe wished she had not, because now her sparkling sapphire eyes were staring directly at the Inquisitor emerald orbs. Looking closer at the human agent, she could not help but find a sense of attractiveness in him. Tall, bulky and savage-looking, there was nothing about him that spoke of elegance or appreciation of beauty, and yet, the aura he emitted was charming to say the least and quite alluring if she was being honest.
“Do you regret your action now?” asked the Inquisitor. “Are you ready to repent for your sins and redeem it?”
“I…have done nothing wrong,” Elianwe retorted. She would not tolerate baseless allegation, not from the humans, not from the Inquisition, not from anybody. This was not a matter of pride, this was the justice both her people and the human race deserved, and the Inquisition was only trying to implement their own brand of it on both without grasping the extent of the consequences. “You are the one blinded to the truth here. Your course of action will only bring damnation to both our peoples.”
The Inquisitor did not respond. Instead, he bent down and seized the big toe on the Eldar’s left foot. Elianwe did not struggle against such iron grip, knowing it would only break her toe without yielding any result. She let him did as he pleased, praying nothing too extreme would take place. Kallogg pressed her foot against his face and took a deep sniff, inhaling the sweet scent of lemon from the shower gel Elianwe used. Then, without warning, he placed a kiss on the big toe he was holding.
“What are you….,” the Farseer began. Kallogg cut her off by pressing his thumb and index finger hard on the toe, causing her to yelp in pain.
“Does that hurt?” he asked, a malicious grin materializing on his face.
“Yes it does,” Elianwe complained. “Stop doing that to me.”
“Such tender feet you have here,” said the Inquisitor, placing a kiss on each and every toe. Elianwe let out a disgusted look as he did so. How dare the humans think they could do whatever they wanted to her body? “A shame such beauty is on the body of a xeno.”
The Inquisitor backed off. As soon as he did so, the two sisters continued with their feathers on Elianwe’s feet. The Farseer once again busted into laughter as she tossed her feet riotously in the face of such attack. Not letting their prey get away, the sisters grabbed her big toes with one hand, held them back and carried on with the insidious feather. Elianwe screamed at the top of her lung as she had no means of protecting herself against the torture.
But the worst had yet to come. The Inquisitor gave a nod and the third sister immediately launched an offensive against Elianwe’s armpits, the sudden sensation causing her to spasm involuntarily.
“AHAHAHAHAHAH! NOOOOO! STAAHAHAP!” the Eldar’s scream was all but ignored. Though fully robed, the Eldar’s clothes provided little protection and she felt the fingers scratching her skin as if they were directly touching it. Elianwe heaved herself forward in a helpless attempt to escape the tickling barrage, her face within inches of the aggressor. The pitiful sapphire eyes were teary and they looked straight into the cold stare of the sister as if begging for mercy. In response, none was given.
The last sister was, in some way, gentler than the rest as she moved to Elianwe’s pointy ears, caressing them lovingly and brushing along its length with her thumb and index finger.
“Not the ears! HAHAHAHAHAH! They are sensitive! Ahahaha!”
“Ready to give up yet, xenos?” Kallogg smirked.
“NOAHAHAHAHA!” the Farseer’s respond could barely be heard between the intense screeching and laughing. Kallogg gave a deep sigh. He kind of hoped she would say that, as this was turning to be quite an interesting experiment on how sensitive an Eldar body could be whose result would no doubt be of great use when dealing with them at a future date. Besides, her sweet laughter was melody to his ears.
The sisters moved between her feet and thighs, underarms and belly, making sure that no ticklish spot on the Farseer’s body was spared. At this point, the Farseer was hysterical. She was unable to control herself as her body writhed violently against the restraints. The tickling was too much for her to bear. Anything, whether fist fighting against Orks or combating the Hive Mind’s shadow of the Warp, would have been preferable to this.
The tickling continued for half an hour. Eldar’s laughter soon faded as she ran out of air and turned to mews instead. It was only a matter of time before Elianwe’s throat was completely patched as all she could do was to gurgle as her sensitive spots were blatantly violated. She was not struggling anymore now that all of her strength had been bled away, not that struggling did her any good to begin with. Her breathing was uneven and rapid, barely giving her any air at all. Only the tears never stopped flowing, like Isha, locked in Nurgle’s cage, when she mourned for the suffering of her children.
“Ahhh. Urgghhhh. Teehihihi.”
Though her mind was in turmoil, Elianwe could still feel the life slowly departing from her. She was going to die here, surrounded by enemies, with no means of escaping, agonized till the very last moment. Silently whispering a last prayer to her daughter back in the Craftworld, Elianwe let go of herself and prepared to enter the Sea of Souls.
Then, it finally stopped. It took Elianwe a moment to realize that it was all over. The ropes were untied and despite the fact she could not move freely, Elianwe was too exhausted to even flinch. Her body remained still as the Inquisitor bent down and wiped the tears and drools off her face with a handkerchief. Elianwe regained her consciousness, her toes on both feet curling and spreading in tandem to signify she was still alive. However, whether that was a good thing or not had yet to be decided.
“You are a tough nut to crack, aren’t you?” asked the Inquisitor. “But worry not, I shall break you. I swear upon the Golden Throne of Terra you resolve shall be broken by the time this is all over.”
Though filled with trepidation, the Farseer allowed herself some satisfaction. The human had failed in what they were trying to do, at least the Inquisitor had; the sisters seemed quite pleased with the whole experience. More challenges were sure to come. Elianwe was not sure she was ready.
“Take her to my chamber,” the Inquisitor ordered. “But first, let’s give her a change in outfit.”
I am a huge fan of Warhammer 40k and the lack of tickling story set in that universe has been unnerving me for a while. So I decided to go ahead and write this one. Hope you enjoy it.
For my other Warhammer 40k fanfics with less sexual content (still with some foot fetish), check out this. https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2813649/BIBOTOT
But who exactly? Admittedly, many Farseers and Warlocks of Craftworld Val’dora were jealous of her power and her abilities to read the skein and predict the future. They had tried to undermine her achievements before, even going as far as claiming her visions as copying from theirs. However, Elianwe could not think of any of them would stoop so low as to do something like this.
Elianwe took in her surroundings. She was lying on a bed, fully clothed. An addition accessory was the strange device strapped to her neck. It did not take long for Elianwe to realize it was created to hamper and nullify her connection to the Warp, making her no more psychically potent than an Eldar who had never walked the Path of the Seer. The chamber was dark and the floor as cold as ice. She did not recall any place like this on the Craftworld.
“Where am I?” she asked aloud. “Which part of the Craftworld is it? I don’t remember any place like this.”
“Because you are not on your Craftworld anymore,” said a voice. It was coarse and very deep. No Eldar would be talking like that. Which meant her captors were humans instead of her own kin. Elianwe was not sure whether she should be glad because her rivals were not that pathetic after all or feel dread at the fact she was at the hand of one of the most savage species in the galaxy. “Your location is classified, but you can call this Inquisitorial Facility Omega.”
Elianwe shuddered at the word. The Inquisition was the organization within the Imperium responsible for waging countless wars against threats from inside and out. Their methods were the most varied of all the factions she knew, not even the vile Forces of Chaos could hope to be as creative as they were. Regardless their modus operandi, the Inquisition were known to be merciless and cruel, mostly necessarily so. Being at the hand of them was one of the worst situations Elianwe could think of.
“And may I ask why I am here?” Elianwe tried to be calm. The Inquisition thrived on fear. She would not let them have the satisfaction. “Surely not even you are above the usual mindless brutes that make up 99% of your population. The Inquisition must always have a purpose. As someone who has been stripped of freedom, I deserve to know why.”
Lights across the chamber were turned on. Elianwe was blinded momentarily by the sudden increase in intensity of light. As she regained her vision, she saw a human in his middle age standing about twenty meters from the bed she was on. He was similar to what she expected from a servant of the humans’ God Emperor, tall and stout, with broad shoulder and a clean shaven head. His clothing was dark-colored with grim engravings on the shoulders and forearms, and he bore the Rosette on his chest.
“I am Inquisitor Kallogg from the Ordo Hereticus,” the human introduced. “I am here to investigate on the so-called alliance you have formed with the armies of the Emperor in the sector and decide whether it should continue of be terminated.”
“You have not answered my question,” Elianwe insisted.
“Take a guess,” said the human, coiling.
“As far as I am concerned, Craftworld Val’dora has a good relationship with the Imperium,” Elianwe replied. “Better yet, we have been trading with one another and have fought together in many battles against the forces of Disorder. Our victories are all shared and not a single defeat has our alliance ever suffered. And yet, for apparent no reason, you abducted me and keep me here against my will. Such act is not just immoral. It is blasphemy.”
“The only thing blasphemy is the way you uphold your side of the deal, Eldar,” said Kallogg. “Our battle, our alliance, our common foe. Those are the words you keep saying, and yet all the difficult jobs are performed by the armies of the Imperium while your people get to do the easy ones. Look at the losses, at the siege of Drak’nir, three hundred thousand of our men and women were killed. And how many did you lose? Six? Only six?”
“Your anger is uncalled for, human,” Elianwe explained. “Millions Orks were slain that day. Thanks to your people providing enough distraction, we were able to infiltrate their command Battle Fortress and destroy it along with the Warboss. Without our combined efforts, losses for your side would be four times larger.”
“And what about the war for Belian V?” the human went on, his rage unabated. Elianwe was beginning to worried he might be one of those crazy puritans who would do anything to discount the Eldar’s role in any occasion where they work together with the Imperium. If that was the case, arguing with him would be a waste of time and her fate already sealed. “An entire regiment was guided by you into the Necron trap. They were annihilated in minutes.”
“Their sacrifice was not in vain,” Elianwe countered. “Because the Necron ambushers show their positions, we were able to route them out and eliminate them. One regiment lost was light compared to what could have happened. After all, if a wolf runs at the shepherd, would he give up some of his livestock to save his life?”
The Inquisitor curled his lips. “Sorry for my lack of sense of humor, but are you saying that we humans are nothing more than livestock to you?”
Elianwe shook her head. She was lost for word. Anything she said at this point could be used as evidence against her. The less she talked, the better. The Craftworld was more than willing to make use of her as a tribute to keep the alliance with the Imperium going.
“You have been using us for your own agenda,” the human spat. “You speak of allying, but only so that you can put us in front of danger instead of yourself. I cannot tolerate this. I WILL not tolerate this. We deserve an apology and a commitment to change your way of doing things from you. Make that promise and I shall let you free.”
Apology? Commitment to change? Who was thing human thinking he was? Elianwe was at the edge of her patience here. His conditions would prove detrimental to the alliance. He knew nothing about the best way to cooperate. His sense of righteousness was blinding him to the truth.
“That, I cannot do,” the Farseer replied sadly.
Kallogg sighed deeply. “I knew you would say that.”
The Inquisitor gave signals and a handful of women clad in white power armor appeared. They were the Adeptus Sororitas, also known as the Sisters of Battle, the chamber militant of the Ordo Hereticus. Though they were unarmed, Elianwe could sense something threatening from them. As these women drew closer, Elianwe summoned her power in defense, only to get nothing. The device at her neck was making it impossible for her to use any of her psychic abilities. Elianwe shirked back. Four human women surrounded her.
“Do not resist, xeno,” said the woman who seemed to the leader judging from her gaudy appearance. Decorations in the form of text scrolls, gold rings and various
other items Elianwe found completely out of place adorned every part of her armor. “Less you want it to be very painful.”
“I won’t,” Elianwe concurred. As much as she hated feeling vulnerable, she saw no other logical option. She could not fight against this many opponents without her weapon or psychic power. Any form of resistance at this point was insensible, if not counterproductive and could lead to her injuries, even death. She reminded herself the humans could not do anything to harm her, or the agreement they had with the Craftworld would be broken.
Not even the Inquisition could bear the wrath of a dozen worlds, scores of Imperial Guard regiments and at least three Space Marine Chapters.
Or could they?
The Sisters of Battle took out some ropes and bound the Eldar at her arms and legs. The callous material squeezed against her wrist and Elianwe suppressed a moan as it brushed hard on her tender skin. Then, they tied them to four corners of the bed, putting her in an eagle spread position.
“You have no right to harm my body, humans,” Elianwe warned. “Any scar on my body, any drop of blood lost, and my Craftworld will not take it easy on you.”
“Who said we are looking forward to harming you, Eldar?” asked on the sisters, a half-smile on her face.
“There are other ways we can do to make you accept this negotiation,” said another. “No pain will be inflicted. Except to your pride, maybe.”
The four Adeptus Sororitas stood at four corners, their intimidating presence having little effect on Elianwe. She would never let anyone, let alone insignificant humans,
to influence her.
Then, one of the sisters began untying her right boot. It took her a while to figure out how to, for the Eldar’s boots were different from those of humans, but eventually, it came off and revealed the white sock inside. The sister began rubbing the Farseer’s foot with both her hands. Elianwe giggled softly at the touch of someone else’s hands on her foot.
“You are enjoying this?” asked the sister holding Elianwe’s right foot. The Eldar was silent in respond. “Guess not, then.”
The sister made a further move by removing the Eldar’s sock. A shiver ran through Elianwe’s spine as her bare foot felt the cold air of the chamber, her five toes
wiggling. She did not like where this was going. Losing a segment of her clothing could never be a good thing, not in this chamber filled with people who were supposed to make her feel as uncomfortable as possible.
“Emperor’s Throne, look at what have we got here,” the sister said excitedly. The Eldar’s foot was well-shaped tender and pale. There was not a single sign of callus on it, the texture hairless and silk-like. Her toes were so delicate they seemed breakable to the slightest of touch. A scent of lemon could be smelled from the shower gel Elianwe used when she took her morning bath today. “Hey, Eldar. I am jealous. Can you share your secret on keeping your feet so cute like that?”
Once again, the Farseer seemed uninterested.
“Have it your way, then,” said the sister as she traced her index finger from the ball across the arch and to the heel, eliciting a soft giggle from the xeno.
“What…what are you trying to do with me?” Elianwe asked. Her heart was throbbing outside her chest as she braced herself for the horror to come.
“Just having a little fun, is that too much to ask for?” the sister replied, a sinister smile running across her face.
Without delay, she began running the front of her fingers on the Eldar’s bare foot, exploring it like a kid playing around with a new toy. The flesh was smooth and creamy. The sister touched every part of the foot before focusing on the toes. She picked them one at a time, pulling on them to get a better view of her own reflection on the glassy nails, and explored the gap between them. Elianwe continued to giggle as she did so. She tried holding back her foot but her effort was in vain. Even with her body unrestrained, the sister would overpower her in any physical struggle. The Farseer’s giggles turned to a surprised moan as the sister placed a kiss on her big toe without warning.
Just as she thought it was not going to get worse, a sister took out her left shoe and sock in the same manner, leaving both her feet exposed. If Elianwe was afraid before, she was truly terrified now.
“Now do you enjoy this?” coiled the first sister.
“Stop,” Elianwe begged. “Don’t.”
“Let me think about that. Hmm, nope.”
The two sisters each brought up a quiver. Before Elianwe could protest, they ran the feather end on her soles, brushing the instep lightly. Then, they moved it up and down in circles. The sensation was overwhelming. Every part of the Eldar body was sensitive, a trait of their race that was both a gift and a curse. It allowed them to feel something more powerfully and experience sensations to the fullest, but as soon as the enemy knew of this, they would not doubt try to exploit this as a weakness.
“No. Cease this at one. This is barbaric.”
The Eldar thrashed in her bonds like a fish out of water, swinging her feet back and forth, left and right to avoid the creeping fingers of the sisters as best she could. Unfortunately, the sisters were more powerful than she thought, not modified as much as Space Marines but still augmented humans nevertheless. They held both her feet in an inescapable lock. Without warning, the second barrage began, faster and more intense than the previous.
“Nohahahaha,” Elianwe cried. “Stop this. Hahahahaha. I hahahah can’t take it.”
The Inquisitor raised a hand and the sisters stopped. As he walked next to the bed, Elianwe finally caught her breath. She was annoyed, however, at being unable to pull the hair which had fallen on her face during her struggle, but one of the sisters graciously did it for her. In retrospective, Elianwe wished she had not, because now her sparkling sapphire eyes were staring directly at the Inquisitor emerald orbs. Looking closer at the human agent, she could not help but find a sense of attractiveness in him. Tall, bulky and savage-looking, there was nothing about him that spoke of elegance or appreciation of beauty, and yet, the aura he emitted was charming to say the least and quite alluring if she was being honest.
“Do you regret your action now?” asked the Inquisitor. “Are you ready to repent for your sins and redeem it?”
“I…have done nothing wrong,” Elianwe retorted. She would not tolerate baseless allegation, not from the humans, not from the Inquisition, not from anybody. This was not a matter of pride, this was the justice both her people and the human race deserved, and the Inquisition was only trying to implement their own brand of it on both without grasping the extent of the consequences. “You are the one blinded to the truth here. Your course of action will only bring damnation to both our peoples.”
The Inquisitor did not respond. Instead, he bent down and seized the big toe on the Eldar’s left foot. Elianwe did not struggle against such iron grip, knowing it would only break her toe without yielding any result. She let him did as he pleased, praying nothing too extreme would take place. Kallogg pressed her foot against his face and took a deep sniff, inhaling the sweet scent of lemon from the shower gel Elianwe used. Then, without warning, he placed a kiss on the big toe he was holding.
“What are you….,” the Farseer began. Kallogg cut her off by pressing his thumb and index finger hard on the toe, causing her to yelp in pain.
“Does that hurt?” he asked, a malicious grin materializing on his face.
“Yes it does,” Elianwe complained. “Stop doing that to me.”
“Such tender feet you have here,” said the Inquisitor, placing a kiss on each and every toe. Elianwe let out a disgusted look as he did so. How dare the humans think they could do whatever they wanted to her body? “A shame such beauty is on the body of a xeno.”
The Inquisitor backed off. As soon as he did so, the two sisters continued with their feathers on Elianwe’s feet. The Farseer once again busted into laughter as she tossed her feet riotously in the face of such attack. Not letting their prey get away, the sisters grabbed her big toes with one hand, held them back and carried on with the insidious feather. Elianwe screamed at the top of her lung as she had no means of protecting herself against the torture.
But the worst had yet to come. The Inquisitor gave a nod and the third sister immediately launched an offensive against Elianwe’s armpits, the sudden sensation causing her to spasm involuntarily.
“AHAHAHAHAHAH! NOOOOO! STAAHAHAP!” the Eldar’s scream was all but ignored. Though fully robed, the Eldar’s clothes provided little protection and she felt the fingers scratching her skin as if they were directly touching it. Elianwe heaved herself forward in a helpless attempt to escape the tickling barrage, her face within inches of the aggressor. The pitiful sapphire eyes were teary and they looked straight into the cold stare of the sister as if begging for mercy. In response, none was given.
The last sister was, in some way, gentler than the rest as she moved to Elianwe’s pointy ears, caressing them lovingly and brushing along its length with her thumb and index finger.
“Not the ears! HAHAHAHAHAH! They are sensitive! Ahahaha!”
“Ready to give up yet, xenos?” Kallogg smirked.
“NOAHAHAHAHA!” the Farseer’s respond could barely be heard between the intense screeching and laughing. Kallogg gave a deep sigh. He kind of hoped she would say that, as this was turning to be quite an interesting experiment on how sensitive an Eldar body could be whose result would no doubt be of great use when dealing with them at a future date. Besides, her sweet laughter was melody to his ears.
The sisters moved between her feet and thighs, underarms and belly, making sure that no ticklish spot on the Farseer’s body was spared. At this point, the Farseer was hysterical. She was unable to control herself as her body writhed violently against the restraints. The tickling was too much for her to bear. Anything, whether fist fighting against Orks or combating the Hive Mind’s shadow of the Warp, would have been preferable to this.
The tickling continued for half an hour. Eldar’s laughter soon faded as she ran out of air and turned to mews instead. It was only a matter of time before Elianwe’s throat was completely patched as all she could do was to gurgle as her sensitive spots were blatantly violated. She was not struggling anymore now that all of her strength had been bled away, not that struggling did her any good to begin with. Her breathing was uneven and rapid, barely giving her any air at all. Only the tears never stopped flowing, like Isha, locked in Nurgle’s cage, when she mourned for the suffering of her children.
“Ahhh. Urgghhhh. Teehihihi.”
Though her mind was in turmoil, Elianwe could still feel the life slowly departing from her. She was going to die here, surrounded by enemies, with no means of escaping, agonized till the very last moment. Silently whispering a last prayer to her daughter back in the Craftworld, Elianwe let go of herself and prepared to enter the Sea of Souls.
Then, it finally stopped. It took Elianwe a moment to realize that it was all over. The ropes were untied and despite the fact she could not move freely, Elianwe was too exhausted to even flinch. Her body remained still as the Inquisitor bent down and wiped the tears and drools off her face with a handkerchief. Elianwe regained her consciousness, her toes on both feet curling and spreading in tandem to signify she was still alive. However, whether that was a good thing or not had yet to be decided.
“You are a tough nut to crack, aren’t you?” asked the Inquisitor. “But worry not, I shall break you. I swear upon the Golden Throne of Terra you resolve shall be broken by the time this is all over.”
Though filled with trepidation, the Farseer allowed herself some satisfaction. The human had failed in what they were trying to do, at least the Inquisitor had; the sisters seemed quite pleased with the whole experience. More challenges were sure to come. Elianwe was not sure she was ready.
“Take her to my chamber,” the Inquisitor ordered. “But first, let’s give her a change in outfit.”
I am a huge fan of Warhammer 40k and the lack of tickling story set in that universe has been unnerving me for a while. So I decided to go ahead and write this one. Hope you enjoy it.
For my other Warhammer 40k fanfics with less sexual content (still with some foot fetish), check out this. https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2813649/BIBOTOT
