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Temple of the Torture Goddess — Part 1 (f/m)

jmills

TMF Regular
Joined
Feb 24, 2006
Messages
244
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16
Hello everyone

“Temple of the Torture Goddess” is a sequel to a multi-part story I posted a couple years ago called “Night of the Blondes.” The link will take you to the final part, and you’ll find links there to take you back to previous chapters.

All the stories I’ve posted on the TMF are from a library of tickling stories I’ve written over the years. I wrote a little intro in front of “Night of the Blondes” sort of putting it in context — I got self-conscious about “sharing” these stories, and figured I needed to do so.

But for thems that can’t be bothered, or have already read the stories, here’s the short version…

My stories take place in a fantasy world populated by beautiful, ticklish, and usually scantily clad women. In this fantasy world, pretty much everything revolves around tickling and sensuality. Sometimes, like in this story, there’s a male narrator. How did he get there? I don’t know. It’s a fantasy. Once upon a time I think I made up a typically goofy sci-fi explanation, like he was “trapped” in a virtual reality machine, or in another dimension, or something. So, if you need a reason, you can have that one.

As I’ve said, I’m not sure I need to go on like this, but I get self-conscious about it. Many writers I admire here, like Jaynin, ticklemantis, kunzite, cosmo AC, sablesword, and many, many others I could list, set their stories in pretty detailed “fantasy” worlds, and no one seems to need an explanation, but still…

So, “Temple of the Torture Goddess” picks up where “Night of the Blondes” left off, though I don’t think you really need to know “Night of the Blondes” to figure out what’s going on. In part 1, it takes a little while for the “action” to start, but there’s some sexy stuff to keep you interested until then. If you like it, please let me know.

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Temple of the Torture Goddess — Part 1

The huge walled palace looming far across the lake from me was the first sign of civilization I had seen since fleeing my own lands in the dead of night about four days ago.

Since then, I had been following the waterways in a small, stolen canoe, not knowing what I was looking for or where I was going. I was wanted by the law, possibly wanted even by my friends for what they would see as a betrayal, and I was just trying to put as much distance as possible between me and any pursuers. One river flowed into another, each one a little wider than the one before, winding through the dense forest, and I simply followed, figuring I could find my way back by retracing my journey.

The wilderness stretched for leagues and leagues, and beyond the more familiar territory that bordered my parish, it held many dangers. Outlaws and rebels used the forest to hide from the queen and her security forces. There were also groups of women who simply chose to live outside the queendom, their “secret villages” tucked away in secluded hollows. I thought briefly about trying to find one of those hidden settlements and see if they might take me in for a short while — I knew some were supposed to be friendly to strangers — but I didn’t know how to find them.

Deeper in the wilderness, things supposedly got even more dangerous. Tribes of native forest girls, and even clans of the dreaded “wild women” lurked in its shadowy recesses. There were stranger stories, too, rumors of witches, tickle pixies and mischievous sprites deep in the forest waiting to make sport of unwary travelers. Some even claimed that the darkest hollows of the wood were home to bizarre trees with grasping, tickling vines…

I stayed vigilant as I left the parts of the forest I knew well, trying to figure out what I was going to do. Setting up camp in the wilderness by myself didn’t sound appealing. I was hoping to find signs of civilization, some sparsely populated corner of a neighboring queendom where I could be inconspicuous until I felt it was safe to return home, however long that turned out to be. But after a couple days on the rivers, a solitary camp began to seem more likely.

When night fell I would pull the canoe up on the bank and find a place to sleep. The weather was temperate, I had shelter, and the forest provided me with plenty of delicious food and drink. I wanted for nothing, except companionship. After a few days of seeing no one, the idea of being captured by a tribe of forest girls didn’t sound quite as terrifying as it had when I started out…

It was on the fourth day that I saw the palace. I was in the middle of an extremely wide river, the verdant forests along the banks almost too distant to see clearly. The river opened up, becoming even wider as it fed into a huge lake in front of me. As I rounded a bend, I saw it. At this distance, I couldn’t make out any details, just the outlines of several towers and other buildings rising from behind a high wall. I hurriedly paddled over to the river bank, out of sight of whatever the structure was, and pulled my canoe up on the shore among some reeds.

A short walk through the woods brought me to the shores of the huge lake. Though the palace or whatever it was still far away, from the seclusion of the woods I was able to make out a few more details. It looked huge, resting upon what seemed to be a small island near the far shore. A bridge connected the walled structure to a sizeable town on the shore. I could also see a water gate facing my part of the lake. I thought I saw figures up on the walls, too, but it was much too far away to be sure.

And as I stood there, I slowly realized what I was looking at, and where my journey had taken me. I must have traveled all the way to one of the neighboring lands, and was now looking at the infamous Temple of Zyriss, the Goddess of Torture.

The Temple of Zyriss had a fearsome reputation; falling into the hands of a member of the Order was considered one of the worst fates imaginable. Royalty and other rulers often used priestesses as torturers and interrogators — a woman trained in the Temple was highly prized. Among the peasants in my remote little parish, the Temple and its priestesses were spoken of in whispers, feared for their cruelty and lack of mercy. It was said they ruled their own land with a tight grip, and brooked absolutely no dissent from the noblewomen and landowners under their dominion.

But it was also said that the Temple was heaven of delights for those within the Order, that the priestesses enjoyed pleasures and luxuries that were almost unimaginable. The Temple of Zyriss was supposedly ruled by three high priestesses — Tanya, the head priestess, along with Sheena and Vonda — who were as gorgeous as they were wicked, and attended by a bevy of enticing beauties.

But those were just stories. No one in my remote parish had ever actually been there, and didn’t know anyone who had. A vast wilderness separated my little section of our queendom from the Temple and its dominion, so the place was almost more legend than reality. What actually went on behind its walls was a mystery.

At first, I was content to leave it that way. I made camp in the woods near the shore while I considered where to go next. Yet I often found myself watching the distant temple, hoping for some sort of hint of what went on behind its walls and in its towers. Boats came and went occasionally from the water gate, and at times I could make out the figures of what were presumably lookouts on top of the walls. At night, lights flickered in the towers and along the ramparts.

The solitude of my self-imposed exile had given me an appetite, and the longer I spent safely gazing at the temple from the wooded shores of the lake, the more the temple’s fearsome reputation began to wane. I felt myself drawn to the place. The temple was bound to be crawling with servants, and in my inflamed state I conjured images of buxom slave women, eager for rescue after being subject to unspeakable torments, breathlessly grateful to anyone who saved them.

So, late on my third night camped along the shore, I set out across the dark waters of the lake, visions of scantily clad slave girls dancing in my head. I stayed away from the bridge and the town, following the wall of the temple from a safe distance as it curved around the shore. As I came around the temple, the wall suddenly cut inland, revealing what looked to be orchards and fields previously hidden from my vantage point across the lake. Giving the walls a wide berth, I moved in closer, until I was eventually hugging the steep banks that made up the shore. When I thought I was a safe distance from the temple wall, I pulled my canoe in, using my shirt to secure the canoe to one of the roots sticking from the bank; I had a brief length of rope with me — I was using it for a belt to hold up my shorts — but I wanted to keep it, for obvious reasons.

Scrabbling up the steep bank, I found myself in what seemed to be a vast orchard, with rows of trees stretching into the darkness. Though I couldn’t see the temple through the trees, I knew the walls were ahead of me somewhere. I moved forward, confident the shadows and the dark night would keep me hidden.

The orchard was laid out in neat, even rows, as orderly as any city. I crept along the rows, sticking to the shadows of the overhanging branches. In a short while, the orchard came to an end, replaced with wide, square patches of some kind of vegetation, stretching across the field like a checkerboard.

These proved to be melon patches, or at least the one closest to me was. I grabbed a couple melons, slipped back under the cover of one of the trees. The melons were delicious, and as I sat there eating, my back against the tree trunk, I began to think that maybe I wouldn’t even need to sneak into the temple. This huge cultivated area, with its orchards and melon patches and vineyards, obviously needed someone to farm it; presumably the temple used servants or maybe even slaves to do such work. I could hide out in a tree near the canoe, and maybe sneak away with someone…

And that’s where they found me, munching away on my second melon, feeling quite pleased with myself over my hazy half-plan. I didn’t even hear them approach; a sandle-clad foot entered my line of vision, and with a mouth full of melon I looked up to see two women looming over me. They were both brunettes, with their hair pulled back in pony-tails, and judging from the matching black outfits they wore — leggings and heavy halter-tops, with just a band of midriff exposed — I guessed they were guards. Each of them carried some sort of short staff or wand, perhaps a little less than a foot long, with small globes at the tip giving off a sparkling violet light.

They wasted no time with questions. They hauled me to my feet and slapped cuffs around my wrists. With my hands in front of me they took a grip on my upper arms and marched me in the direction of the temple. I sputtered and babbled as they lead me along. “Wait… where are you taking me?… I’m not a trespasser, I swear… I’m lost… wait, let me explain…”

“Quiet!” one of them snapped. “You are a trespasser, and a thief, too, as far as we’re concerned.”

“No, I’m not! I can explain what…”

“You’ll explain it to the priestess on nightwatch duty,” the other guard said. “Save your excuses for her.”

But I continued to babble, and they continued to ignore me, as we approached the wall. They lead me through a heavy postern door and into a small, narrow courtyard. A row of foot stocks stood in a line on one side of the yard. With their hands tightly gripping my upper arms, the guards pulled me over to one, shoving my butt down on the low padded bench. As I continued to protest, they fastened my ankles in, releasing my wrists only to manacle them above my head to a pair of cuffs dangling on chains from the post behind me. One slapped a gag in my mouth before they both left through another door into one of the main buildings.

The courtyard was deserted, the other stocks unoccupied. A few flickering lights illuminated the area, leaving the corners and edges in darkness. Up on the wall, I could just make out the silhouette of a couple guards standing watch. It wasn’t long before I heard what sounded like the voices of the returning guards, along with another voice I didn’t recognize. That proved to belong to a woman in a red robe. Standing behind the three of them a few paces was another woman, this one dressed in tight grayish short-shorts and a matching halter top.

The woman in the robe stopped in front of me. She was a little on the short side, with curly reddish-brown hair and a soft, heart-shaped face. Her robe covered her from neck to her ankles, but her face and neck, and the way the cloth of the robe fell on her, suggested a little plumpness underneath. In any other circumstance, she wouldn’t have looked too threatening, yet there was an air of authority about her that belied her short stature and whatever soft curves were concealed beneath the robe. “So this is our thief?”

“Yes mistress,” said one of the guards. “As I said, we found him eating melons in the orchard. We could just take him to the cells, but you asked us to notify you first if anything happened.”

“Yes, you did quite right. Take his gag off.”

Once the gag was off I immediately began protesting my innocence, at least to the charge of being a thief.

“Quiet!” The woman snapped. “You’re obviously not from around here. No one would dare sneak into our orchard otherwise. Do you know where you are?”

“Yes. This is the Temple of Zyriss…”

She appeared just a little surprised. “Yet you steal from us anyway? Do you know what we do to thieves?”

“I’m not a thief!” I said. And then I blurted out the first thing that came into my head. “I came here because I wanted to join your order.”

One of the guards stepped forward and tapped my side with the wand she was carrying. The wand crackled, the violet light flared, and an intense ticklish jolt shot through me, making me yelp and jump. “This is Priestess Lafay of the Temple of Zyriss!” the guard snapped. “You will address her as ‘mistress’!”

“I’m sorry, mistress,” I gasped. “I’m not a thief, mistress. I want to join.”

Priestess Lafay looked skeptical “Really? Supplicants typically present themselves at the main gate on the 10th moon, not creep into our orchard in the dark of night…”

“I didn’t know, mistress…”

“… and then steal from us…”

“It was just a couple melons, mistress. I was hungry after my journey…”

“Your journey? Where did you come from?”

“I came… I came from across the lake…”

“Raisha, come here,” Priestess Lafay said.

The dark-haired woman in the gray outfit stepped forward. She was a sloe-eyed beauty with an oval-shaped face and a sullen mouth. Her legs were toned and shapely, her skin smooth and pale. For a slim girl she had very large breasts; despite my fear, I couldn’t help noticing the way they pushed against the fabric of her top, bouncing as she walked.

The priestess continued: “Let’s see if there’s not more to his story than he’s letting on.”

“Of course, mistress…”

Raisha moved behind me, out of my line of sight. Just a moment later I felt fingertips gliding down the undersides of my arms, making their way towards my pits. I squeaked and snorted, jerking in the manacles that held my hands above my head. Her fingers fluttered into the exposed and helpless hollows of my underarms and I started giggling almost immediately.

“So, let’s begin again,” Lafay said. “Where are you from?”

Between giggles I managed to splutter out the story I had concocted — I was a simple peasant from another land, and I wanted to join the order. “The Order of Zyriss… (heeeheeehee)… is f-feared everywh-where… (gheeeheeehee)… I w-w-wish to serve… (hehehe)…”

“And you made your way across the lake? In a canoe? That’s unusual. Where did you get the canoe?”

I told her I had been captured by a tribe of forest girls in a raid on my homestead, and had managed to escape by stealing the canoe. I told them where I had left it. “I didn’t know… (yeeeheehee)… how to present myself… at the temple… (heeheehee)… oh, m-mistress, please make her st-stop… (gasp) … I c-can’t t-talk… (hahaha)…”

In truth, Raisha wasn’t tickling me very hard, just sort of fluttering and swirling her fingers, leaving my underarms occasionally to glide her fingers up and down the undersides of my biceps a few times before returning. But my solitary exile in the wilderness meant I hadn’t been touched in a long while. I was extra ticklish, even more so than usual, and just this light treatment had me in fits.

“You’re talking just fine,” Lafay said. “But if you really want Raisha to stop, just tell me what I want to know.”

“I h-have… (tee-hee-hee)… I’ve told you the t-t-trooohohothhh…!”

“Hmm… where is this ‘distant land’ of yours?”

I blurted out the name of the land and the name of the queen. The land was large enough that she wouldn’t know my real story; whether she’d care was another question, but I thought it best to keep the fact that I might be wanted by the law to myself. Lafay said she knew the queendom. “It’s not all that distant,” she said. “Why didn’t you go back after your escape?”

“… ooohooohoo… m-mistress pleeeheeheezz… eee-heheh… I k-kant-t-t… heeheehee…!”

“You can and you will,” she said. “Raisha, try his feet.”

“No… please… not my feet… no… yyeee-heee-heee-heee…!”

Slinking around in front of me, Raisha pointed at me, waggling her finger. She gave me a quick wink before kneeling at my feet and giving my soles the same treatment she had given my underarms — stroking and fluttering her fingers up and down, sometimes brushing across the tops of my feet or slipping between my toes. My feet twitched frantically in the stocks as I giggled, trying to answer Lafay’s questions.

“… heee-heee-heee… I want to j-join the Order… eee-heee-heee… I w-wish t-to serve Zyriss… hahahaha…!”

“Sneaking into our orchard, stealing our fruits… It’s a curious way to start,” Lafay said. “Know what I think? You’re just a thief. Maybe you did escape from somewhere, but you thought you could just sneak in…”

“No… no, I swear… teeeheehee… I came here to join… I was just hungry… hahahaha… I didn’t… nyeeeheeehee… no-hoho… please stahahapp…!”

“Look how you squeal and twitch. The training our supplicants must go through to join our order can be far more rigorous than Raisha’s tender treatment. She’s actually going quite easy on you. I doubt you’d be able to endure…”

“… p-pleezee mistress… hehehe… I’ll do wh-whatever y-you… neeeheeehee… whatever you ask… hooohooohoh…”

“Well, the decision is not mine to make,” she said. “If nothing else, the temple always needs new bodies.” She spoke to the guards. “Put him in a cell for the night. High Priestess Sheena can decide what to do with him in the morning. But first… Raisha, you’ve done excellent work. You may finish him off. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Yes, mistress.” Raisha smiled at me as she moved up and gracefully straddled my hips. Lightly tickling my ribs and sides, she ground against me, rocking her hips until I giggled and moaned in equal measure. She moved slowly, but as wound up as I was, it didn’t take long before I came. Afterwards, I was dragged inside, with only vague, blurry impressions of narrow hallways and flickering lights. They deposited me on a small cot, and I heard the door clang shut as my worn body succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off to sleep.

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Part 2 is right here, but before you go, check out the image of Raisa I commissioned down the thread a bit.
 
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Hello TMFers

I'll beg your pardon the “self-bump,” but I think you might like it…

First of all, thanks are in order to smarty10, Smellking, and the ever-generous Milagros for their encouraging comments. And thanks to the reader who sent me a private message. Part 2 is coming soon; there will be a lot more “action,” and the action will be hotter.

But in the meantime…

For a couple older stories of mine that I’ve posted here — part 2 of a story called “Soft Bodies” and part 3 of a story called “Mischievous Missy and the Lusty Haze” — I’ve added images that have served as partial inspiration for some of the characters/scenes.

For “Temple of the Torture Goddess,” I took a different approach. I reached out to several artists on the TMF and elsewhere to commission images for some (not all) of the chapters. Most of these are portraits of characters. I didn’t ask the artists to read the section — mostly I gave them a short description of what I was looking for, and we went from there. Some artists I never heard back from, others weren’t available for commissions or didn’t do commissions, but I REALLY lucked out with the artists I worked with…

So let’s get on with it…

For part 1 of “Temple of the Torture Goddess,” I asked an artist by the name of Lufidelis for a portrait of Raisha. Lufidelis is a very diverse artist, but for my purposes I was interested in her pin-ups of gorgeous, curvaceous women that she shares on her deviantart page. She’s not “one of us” here on the TMF, but she has done a few great images featuring tickling.

Here’s her Deviantart page

Here’s her tumblr.

And below is her insanely cute take on Raisha. I love this image — the body, the lips, the wink… What a beauty!

Raisha Jay Mills.png


Raisha plays a bigger role in “Temple of the Torture Goddess” as the story continues. You’ll be seeing more work from Lufidelis, too; she was a lot of fun to work with.

Take care.
 
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