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Results 1 to 6 of 6
  1. #1
    Join Date
    Feb 2006

    Temple of the Torture Goddess — Part 6 (multi-f's/m)

    Hello good TMFers

    The “Temple of the Torture Goddess” continues with Part 6. Thanks to all you good readers and generous commentators who have followed along so far — very glad to hear you’re enjoying the story, and I hope you like the images, too.

    Previous installments…

    Part 1
    Part 2
    Part 3
    Part 4
    Part 5

    Part 6 is another relatively short one. The beginnings of something that kinda resembles an actual plot begin to creep in here… but don’t let that scare you off.

    In addition to multi-fs/m tickling, Part 6 contains some (very) brief and (very) softcore sexual elements.

    And now…


    Temple of the Torture Goddess — Part 6

    A couple of days later, the anxiety among the slave-apprentices in the laundry was palpable. It was the day of the tribute, where the noblewomen of the land would come to pay their tithes to the Temple of Zyriss. After the tribute ceremony, they were treated to a huge banquet, where practically every slave-apprentice was called upon to serve.

    I didn’t know anything about the domain the Temple essentially ruled over, nor did I know much about what happened beyond the Temple’s walls. From idle chatter I knew that visitors from outside the temple crossed the bridge from the town, and entered through the main temple hall. Besides being the place where guests entered on important occasions such as this, the main temple hall was also where the priestesses and acolytes conducted some of the more formal rituals. On tribute day, it was where the noblewomen of the land, along with their entourages, gathered to offer their tributes, one-by-one, to the High Priestesses. The banquet happened after this ceremony, and took place in another large hall right off the main temple.

    I had never been in the main hall, and I entered the banquet hall for the first time as a servant. I was stunned by what I saw. The place was huge, with a vast domed ceiling soaring over our heads. Canopies of diaphanous silk material, all in different hues of red, hung from the walls. Dozens of round tables dotted the floor, with a longer rectangular table on a dais overlooking the rest of the room. An arched gallery on one end of the room led to the kitchens.

    The area was already a flurry of activity by the time they brought us up from the laundry to serve, dressed in our usual outfits. We were assembled under the gallery, near the kitchens. An overseer addressed us. A few training mistresses were there, including Foxy, who I noticed was wearing a bra.

    “The tribute banquet is a very special occasion,” the overseer began. “Such frivolity as you will experience tonight is usually not permitted at the Temple of Zyriss. But during the tribute banquet, we allow our guests a great deal of leniency. Little is off limits to them, and that includes you. So, you will be pinched, groped, fondled and tickled. Our guests may find it amusing to play with you in whatever way pleases them. But no matter what happens, no lapses in discipline on your part will be permitted! No spills, no accidents, and certainly no reprisals. Any lapses of discipline on your part will be severely punished.”

    “Yes mistress,” we answered.

    My duties were simple enough — I was given a large jug of wine, and told to keep the goblets full. The vast room was already filling up when we began, priestesses and acolytes standing around chatting to the ladies and the other women in their entourages. The priestesses and acolytes were dressed in their usual finery, striking but well-concealed under their shimmering robes. But the noblewomen were a different matter; plunging necklines, bare arms, and curve-hugging, skin-bearing outfits were the order of the day, and it was a challenge not to ogle some of the deep canyons of cleavage on view as I hustled about, filling goblets.

    An archway on the other side of the wide banquet room led to the inner areas of the temple, the areas where we usually were, and it was through there that many of the priestesses made their entrance, walking down four or five wide shallow steps to the floor. They entered without fanfare and didn’t seem to attract much notice from the busy crowd, simply slipped in to join the general hubbub.

    I saw High Priestess Sheena, whom I recognized from when I was first brought in, and I finally got my first look at High Priestess Tanya, the head priestess of the temple and — in effect — the queen of the land. Though Tanya was beautiful, I had expected someone far more physically imposing, with a stern demeanor like Mistress Foxy. Instead, Tanya was of average height, with straight sandy blonde hair and a sun-kissed complexion, and looked quite friendly as she stood near the head table, smiling and chatting with a couple noblewomen. She seemed to have an air of casual authority about her, as though she was perfectly comfortable with the power and position she held.

    A short time later, I just happened to look in the direction of the main archway. Standing at the top of the steps was a gorgeous black woman, dressed in the crimson robe of a high priestess. She was very tall, perhaps a little over 6’. Thick black hair cascaded in waves past her wide shoulders, framing an oval-shaped face with an aquiline nose and full lips. The voluminous robe she wore couldn’t fully conceal the curvaceous body beneath; the silky fabric clung to rounded hips and stretched tight across a massive chest. Her breasts bounced as she walked down the steps, and I could see the outline of her shapely thighs against the cloth.

    She was flanked on either side by two other black women. Buxom beauties in their own right, they were shorter than their statuesque mistress, and seemed fleshier, softer, wearing silky, clingy blue dresses that fell to right above their knees and left their arms bare.

    “Who’s that?” I whispered to the girl next to me as I watched the tall black woman walk down the steps.

    “That’s High Priestess Vonda,” she said. “Stop staring, you fool, and get back to work.”

    At the bottom of the steps Vonda paused to scan the room. Though she was across the hall from me, dozens of chattering guests and bustling servants between us, her eyes met mine for just a brief moment. She smiled at me. Startled at being caught staring, I flushed and turned away, unable to hold her gaze, and hurried to the kitchens.

    Just off the main hall I ran into Raisha. She was standing with about half-a-dozen other women, dressed in what I presumed was their dancing outfits —diaphanous pants of some silky material, worn very low on the hips, and glittering bikini tops. Other small bits and pieces of jewelry on their limbs or hanging from their waistbands sparkled as they caught the light. It was the first time I had seen Raisha since I had tortured her, so I greeted her nervously, unsure of my reception. But I need not have worried; she was quite friendly, returning my greeting and smiling openly. “I guessed you would be here,” she said, grinning. “Maybe you’ll get to see me dance.”

    “I’m sorry about what happened…”

    “There’s no need for apologies,” she said. “You really didn’t have a choice. I know what it’s like. Trust me. Besides, I should probably be apologizing to you for coming. I couldn’t help it though. Your hands… they were just getting all my spots.”

    An overseer snapped at me to get back to work. “Watch yourself,” Raisha told me as I said good-bye and hurried away. “Lots of opportunities for trouble at these things.”

    She was right about that. Banquets this size at the Temple were rare, and even the larger gatherings were usually somewhat sedate affairs. When the priestess and acolytes got together for a meal, they talked, of course, and laughed, and generally enjoyed themselves, but the atmosphere I found myself in now was far, far more lively. Loud talk, loud laughter, lots of high spirits, lots of hustle and bustle. And lots of grabby hands, too. At their own little dinners and gatherings, the priestesses and acolytes pretty much left the servants alone. Here, though, the guests seemed to regard having a little fun with the servers as a part of the festivities. Just as we were warned, we were pinched and squeezed and given quick tickles by the noblewomen as we waited on them. The priestesses didn’t take part, but they played the good hostesses and let their guests indulge themselves.

    Eventually, the guests were all seated, with a priestess heading up each table. I moved from table to table, pouring drinks, delivering plates. Every now and then, I cast a glance towards where Vonda was seated, but I was careful not to let my gaze linger on her too long. On one occasion, though, I saw something besides Vonda that caught my eye. Mistress Foxy was standing at the high table, deep in conversation with another woman I didn’t recognize from the temple. I guessed she was a noble woman of some standing, since she had a seat at the main table with the high priestesses and a few others. The woman had angular features and striking platinum blonde hair cut very short; she had on tight black leggings and a black cape that she had thrown over her shoulders, but wore nothing else up top.

    But I was much too busy serving and dodging hands to spend time staring. As I went about my duties, I managed to avoid getting groped too badly — a couple servers weren’t so lucky — but it wasn’t necessarily the guests I should have been worried about…

    I was leaning over the table, jug poised to refill the goblet of a noblewoman with long, straight light brown hair. She was talking to the other guests, oblivious to my presence as I stood over her left shoulder, a position that afforded me a perfect view of her abundant cleavage.

    And just as I was leaning over, and had reached the point where the slightest pressure could make me lose my balance, I caught a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. I had a half-moment to recognize my tormentress, the buxom blonde, before she passed behind me… and then a ticklish goose on my butt made me yelp and jerk forward.

    I stumbled into the shoulder of the noblewoman. Wine spilled from the jug to spatter on her chest. She shrieked in surprise, jumping in her seat. I tried to regain my footing, already stammering apologies. Dark red wine trickled across the tops of her round breasts and dribbled into the canyon in between.

    “Oh! You clumsy…! Look what you did!” she looked up at me, her eyes angry but her mouth twisted in a mischievous smirk. “You’ve spilled wine all over my tits!”

    “I…I’m sorry, mistress… I’ll… I’ll…”

    “You’ll clean it up, is what you’ll do!” she snapped.

    “Of course, mistress… let me…”

    “No! You’ll clean it up now!” She grabbed me around the waist, yanking me into her lap. “With your tongue!”

    With her hand on the back of my head, she shoved my face into her bosom. My mind reeled, overwhelmed by the feeling of all that soft, supple flesh suddenly pressed against my face. Spurred on by fear and lust, I began eagerly lapping up the sweet red wine. “Lick up every drop slave,” she laughed. I heard the other women at the table also laughing, amused at the scene in front of them. I moaned, slurping up the wine, my tongue licking deep into the valley between her round, soft mounds.

    Mmmm… I think you’re enjoying this, aren’t you slave?”


    “I am, too,” she said. She giggled and twitched a little as I used my lips to suck up a few droplets. “… hmmm… your mouth is quite tickly, slave,” she said. With her free hand she started tickling me, fingers skittering across my belly and waist. I jumped in her lap, my surprised squeal muffled by her cleavage. The woman chuckled at my reaction and continued lightly tickling me, using just her fingernails. I giggled and squirmed but kept my head down on her soft breasts, licking even as I laughed. But then her hand slid down to squeeze my knee. My body jerked on pure instinct, doubling over to protect myself as I exploded in laughter. The woman didn’t let up, squeezing this sensitive spot as I tried to pull her hand away.

    I felt another pair of hands tickling my ribs and sides from behind as the woman’s neighbor joined the fun. The woman on the other side of her grabbed my ankle and held it in her lap, tickling my sole. “Naaa-haaahaaahaa…” I screamed in laughter, a whirlwind of twisting and squirming as I was assaulted by three pairs of hands. I felt myself slowly sliding off the woman’s lap.

    I heard a voice say “Get him on the table.” Hands grabbed me, arms wrapped around me, I was lifted upwards…

    “No! No-hohohoho…!” I was maneuvered onto the edge of the table. A pair of hands grabbed me from behind, under my arms, and dragged me backwards, knocking over dishes and goblets as I slid across the table top. Someone pinned my wrists down over my head. I kicked and screamed, fighting as they stretched my legs out. Hands clamped around my ankles, holding them down. They tickled me the whole time, the entire table joining in once they had me down. Fingers wriggled into my underarms and danced up and down my ribs and belly. Nails raked my soles and hands squeezed my thighs and knees.

    Yaaahaaahaaahaa! Nyaaaaahaaahaaaha!

    “Get his clothes…”

    “No! No, do-hoho-ntt… eee-heeeheeeh…” I fought with renewed vigor as I felt my shirt torn off me, hands tugging my shorts, but there were just too many of them holding me down, tickling me mercilessly. In moments they had me naked, laughing at me as I howled and writhed underneath them. The ringleader, the woman I had spilled wine on, suddenly came into focus as she loomed over me, brandishing the pitcher of wine. “Let’s see how you like it,” she said.

    She tipped the pitcher, a stream of wine splashing down on my chest, my belly, down the entire length of me… I felt my feet doused with wine, rivulets trickling in between my twitching toes. My tormentors laughed in delight. I screamed for mercy as several lips and tongues joined the fingers ravaging my body. I felt tongues on my feet and between my toes, mouths slurping wine from my chest. The ringleader had her lips pressed to my belly, sucking up the little splotches of wine, her tongue flickering out occasionally. She lapped up the wine that had pooled in my belly button, sending my shrieks to an even higher pitch. And then, even through the many, many fingers and mouths crawling all over my body, I felt her mouth traveling lower… and lower… and lower…

    I screamed in horror. “No! No please…! Don’t… don’t… AIIEEEE!!!…”

    I bucked as I felt her lips wrap around me. Howling in helpless, abject pleasure, I submitted utterly to the sensations crashing through me, my cries mingling with the raucous shouts and laughter of my tormentors.

    Their fun over, they released me, leaving me sprawled on the table, still trembling from my climax. I had a vague impression of my slack body being hauled off the table, of being pulled away from the banquet hall. The next thing I remember clearly was being dragged down the corridor towards the kitchen, a guard on either side of me, supporting me with my arms around their shoulders. Foxy was striding in front of us. I must have moaned or at least mumbled something to indicate I was coming to, because Foxy looked over her shoulder at me. “You made quite a spectacle of yourself,” she sneered as she walked. “I warned you that I would not tolerate any dereliction of duty! You spilled wine on a guest!”

    “It wasn’t my fault,” I cried. “That blonde goosed me from behind…”

    “Silence!” Foxy snapped. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, slave!”

    We marched into the kitchen. The guards bent me over a counter, grabbing my wrists and stretching my arms out in front of me. Foxy uncoiled a flail. I cried out in protest. “Mistress! No! I’ve been punished enough!”

    Foxy delivered three quick strikes of the flail across my butt and the backs of my thighs. It was excruciating but mercifully brief, and banished whatever lingering haze remained from my ordeal at the banquet.

    The flail had also revived my lust, though there would be no outlet for that available to me anytime soon. For the rest of the night I was put to work in the kitchens, washing plates, bowls, trays, goblets and plates with several other slaves, all the while subject to the taunts and snickers of the servers, many of whom had seen what happened to me in the banquet hall. Still naked, I apparently proved an irresistible target for roving hands eager for a quick tickle or squeeze when the overseers weren’t looking, and since the kitchen was very busy, quite a lot went unseen. My immediate neighbors, however, left me alone, though their proximity was enough of a tease.

    I was hardly the only server to be used as sport by the guests. I heard the other slaves talking as they hustled in and out of the kitchen fetching drinks and food, commenting on being fondled and pinched. A few other girls met a similar fate as me, a squeeze or a goose forcing them to drop a tray or spill a drink. “I’d like to see you try to hold a tray while your ass is being tickled,” a girl snapped at an overseer before she was given three strikes with the flail.

    A long time later, our work was finally over. Foxy came to fetch me and take me back to my cell. I followed her through the quiet corridors of the temples lower levels. She didn’t say a word to me, just strode a pace or two ahead as I stumbled after her. At last we reached my cell. Foxy opened the door for me. “Apparently someone likes you,” she said, her lips curled into an expression somewhere between a smirk and a sneer. “Enjoy yourself, slave.” She ushered me in and slammed the door behind me.

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Apr 2005
    Blog Entries
    wonderful. I love it so much.

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Jan 2002
    NY City
    Blog Entries
    Great story!
    <== the sacred soles of Goddess Shelly

    A link to my stories on the TMF.

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    עם ישראל חי
    אֶרֶץ יִשְׂרָאֵל חי

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Sep 2014
    Victoria, Australia
    Mmmhmm, judging from the ending paragraph perhaps a certain High Priestess might be involved in our friends future

  5. #5
    Delicious and hot! Wonderful work!

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Nov 2002
    WI, near the green bay fox valley area
    Very creative and interesting story series so far, with regards to plot while not always needed for a story to be enjoyable not normally scared off by when one is included in a story :P

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