This story came as a result of a story idea trade with Quillsman on DeviantArt. He flushed out a story about a ghost train that turns its passengers' desires against them and in return I scribbled down the logs of a fortress that fell to more... unconventional siege tactics.
Check out Quills' story here. He really knocked it out of the park with this one so I can't recommend it enough for lovers of more intense tickles.
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To: Her Majesty's Royal Armory
Salutation,
I hope this missive finds you well. I am writing to express my thanks for the latest shipment of armor delivered last month. I know not of what material it was made with, but the troops are singing high praises for it being durable enough to repel even the strongest of the succubi's blows with only minimal restriction of flexibility. Reports are flooding in that skirmishes have been proceeding with minimal losses. With this, we are pleased to report to Her Majesty that the Three Rivers Mountain Pass leading into succubus territory shall hold stronger than ever before, and I wish to convey to Her Majesty herself that your noble establishment's efforts in procuring new equipment are to thanks.
If I may be so bold, may you please tell us where you received these goods from? I wish to nominate their creator for a suitable reward as a gesture of thanks.
Sincerely,
Maria Holdt, Commander of the 32nd Battalion
New Moon of the 2nd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
To: Three Rivers Mountain Pass, Commander's Office
My greetings,
You'll have to forgive my forwardness on this ma'am, but I beg for clarification. I regret to inform you that we haven't been able to send any new shipments to your fort in several months. Road conditions in that area have been especially troubling as of late. Reports of disappearances have become alarmingly frequent with many royal messengers and convoys being reported as going missing in transit.
To speak plainly: If you received any recent shipments, then it couldn't have been from the capitol.
May you ever be in Her Majesty's Favor,
Sarah Malturn, Quartermaster of Her Majesty's Royal Armoury
Waxing Moon of the 2nd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
--Postmaster General's Note: Her Majesty has recently declared that all outgoing missives are to cease until the issue with the disappearances has been resolved. We'll have to wait on delivering this one until our girls stop vanishing off the roads.
32nd Battalion, 5th Recon Squad Status Report for Waxing Moon of the 2nd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
No hostiles detected along patrol route 4 in the last week. No anything detected, for that matter. We didn't see a single deer or rabbit for the entire week. Not even a bird. Emergency rations had to be opened to feed the team long enough to report back to base. Requesting additional surveillance for patrol route 4. Something's going on there, and I'd like to find out what it is before it [an ink blotch renders the words illegible] becomes a problem.
9th squad didn't link up with us when they were supposed to. My team waited a whole day at the intersection with patrol route 2 and they never showed. Putting a request in for disciplinary action. Can't have them standing up other squads like that.
Signed,
Melody Wildfield, Squad Leader for the 5th Recon Squad
Excerpt from the diary of Maria Holdt, Commander of the 32nd Battalion.
Waning Moon of the 3rd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
It's becoming increasingly hard to suppress murmurings amongst the troops that something is wrong here. 3 recon squads have gone missing on routine patrols in as many weeks. Investigation of their respective patrol routes found signs of struggle and discarded personal effects where they were presumably taken, but no blood or other signs of battle at any of the locations. I'm not certain if I should take it as a good sign or not. Any sign that the patrols could still be alive helps foster hope that we'll see them again alive and well. What concerns me though is that despite these hopes that they may yet live, not a single one has returned to report on the attacks. One cannot help but worry that this means that whatever assaulted them was overwhelming enough to capture entire teams of Her Majesty's holy paladins alive yet at the same time stealthy enough to snatch them from right under the nose of the fortress.
We'll be organizing a search party tomorrow. All but the bare minimum staff needed to maintain the facility will be fielded. Whatever this new threat is needs to be stom
Excerpt from the diary of Melody Wildfield, Squad Leader for the 5th Recon Squad
Waning Moon of the 3rd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
Well we found the missing recon squads. I'm still not entirely certain how to process any of this. The bishop always said that verbalizing what happened helps get over a heavy conscious (in what I think is a roundabout way of telling me to show up to confessionals more), but confessional's got a waiting list longer than the mess on steak day today. The boss allegedly keeps a diary so I figured that'd be worth a shot. Didn't even keep one of these things as a moonstruck teen, but fuck it. Worst that happens is I burn this stupid thing before anyone can read it.
We spotted the bats approaching from damn near halfway down the mountain path. More than enough time for everyone to suit up and get into position. My bet was that those great big wooden machines were siege engines. Didn't get to get a good look until they'd parked the things right outside longbow range. Took me a bit to figure out what was going on, and I don't think I really internalized it until the screaming started.
They weren't siege engines. They were more like those pavilions they put pillories on with wheels nailed on. Each was lined with stocks, pillories, stretching tables, you name it and they got it. And locked in those was every member of the missing recon squads to the last woman. Even from that distance I could tell that the bats had stripped each of them naked. They certainly didn't care about preserving their prisoners' modesty. There were plenty of girls bound so that their bare chests, loins, and asses were on display.
Right before our very eyes the bats started climbing on the pavilion and tickling the captive troops. You know tickling? That thing kids do? Except I'd paid a visit to the castle's torture chambers once and the laughter coming out of our girls' mouths sounded a lot closer to the screams I'd heard there than the giggles of children. The bats were using those unnaturally long talons of theirs to scratch at their captives' bare breasts, stomachs, thighs, asses, feet... Basically, their nails went to whichever body part was closest to us. Like they wanted us to see what they were doing.
Well, all that screaming brought the boss stomping out of her chambers. She started yelling and hollering at us to get off our asses and save our folks already. We opened the gates and came pouring out to give the bats a good walloping.
I... I don't know what happened from there on out. Everything went to shit. All the bats had to do was poke our armor and it'd just kinda... fall off. It's like all those holy wards the priests had engraved into our armor weren't worth a cow's fart anymore for some reason. Girls were getting stripped to their underwear or less and wrestled to the ground in seconds.
After that it was a rout. Nobody knew what was going on. Everyone just wanted to get the hell out of dodge before they were next. I think after the final tally by the time we'd gotten back inside and shut the gate behind us we'd lost nearly a quarter of the girls who'd headed out.
The screaming hasn't stopped since then. It's only grown louder. Everyone who got captured was immediately dragged up to the pavilion, had whatever clothes they had left torn off, and got a bat assigned to start tickling them too. Even as I write this, well after nightfall, I can still hear their laughter through the walls. It's gonna be hell getting any sleep tonight.
Excerpt from the diary of Maria Holdt, Commander of the 32nd Battalion.
Waning Moon of the 3rd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
I don't dare tell the troops this, not even the priests at the confessional, for fear of being responsible for striking blow to this fortress' already flagging morale, but I must put this into words somehow: I am at wit's end.
Driving off the succubi has become impossible after that disastrous battle at the beginning of the siege. We lost too many paladins in the initial scuffle to risk another direct confrontation. It had come to our attention far too late that the latest shipment of armor was in fact cursed. According toe the priests' and quartermaster's combined status report, the armor had simply been forged to appear as if they were imbued with the holy magics that protected our troops from those demons while in reality were cursed to fall to pieces at the slightest touch from a succubus.
Knowing how our foe accomplished this vile sabotage only drives home how much of a failure of a commander I've proven to be. As far as I can tell, we've been surrounded for months. I don't know how the succubi snuck their army around the mountain when this fortress defends the only major pass with which to safely pass more than a handful of soldiers, but that doesn't change the fact of our situation. It's impossible to tell their numbers. They strike at every party that dares set foot outside the fortress' back gate.
We only realized what was happening when we dispatched messengers calling for reinforcements. The messengers had slipped out of the fortress in the darkness of pre-dawn, and the sun hadn't even fully shown itself by the time we found them bound naked to stakes with eye shot of the fortress walls. All of them were kept perpetually giggling by magical feathers flitting all over their bare bodies. Crueler still, a succubus was making the rounds to add to their torment. The bat-winged demon would use a large, stiff scrubbing brush to scrub large sections of the captives' stomachs for tens of minutes at a time. Even the toughest of paladins were quickly reduced to hysterical laughter by the relentless assault on their nerve endings in their bare stomachs.
Every couple rounds the demon would add to their torment by using its inhuman techniques to play with their unmentionables. The girls openly wept for their stolen chastity as they were incapable of preventing the demons' fingers from assaulting the erogenous zones, and even more helpless still as it denied whatever joy they could've gotten out of it by wielding its brush against their armpits, sides, and thighs.
I don't think I'll ever forget those expressions of terror on the captive girls' faces when the succubus began to approach them again, nor how those once proud warriors were reduced to full-blown weeping well before the demon was done with them. I can see it every time I close my eyes.
I've called for all attempts at fleeing to cease. The high canyon walls that protect us from attack on either flank have become our prison walls. The only two paths out of the mountain path, forward and back, have been taken by the enemy. There's no longer any way out. We no longer have the means or personnel necessary to pressure our enemy into making a mistake. Staying will only result in the fortress being overrun in due time. Running only leads to us being picked off and hastening the process.
I'm sorry, Her Majesty. I've failed both you and the paladins under my command. No matter how much I wrack my brain I fail to see any other outcome than our demise.
I'm sorry. I've failed you all as a leader in the times that need strong leadership the most. I [the ink on the paper is too stained by an unknown liquid to be legible]
Excerpt from the diary of Melody Wildfield, Squad Leader for the 5th Recon Squad
Waxing Moon of the 4th Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
Is it wrong of me that I wish that the succubi would never stop tickling my sisters in arms? Who am I kidding, of course it is. I just can't take it anymore. I just can't fucking take this. It's been over a moon since the siege started and I've been made to listen to the agonized laughter of the troops every moment of both day and night. The situation gets worse by the day. People have been ignoring boss' orders to stand firm and prepare for a counterattack. They're slipping out in small groups trying to sneak past the siege. All it's done is get them joining the ranks of girls being tickled and making any hope of hitting back even more of a distant twinkle in the boss' eye.
The sound attack continues morning and night. The captives are forced awake and mercilessly tickled every day in shifts so we never get a break from the sound of our own folks' howling. That's what's making people try to run. It's the bat's entire strategy. They don't care about taking the fort. We lost too many paladins a moon ago to prevent them from running us over if they tried, cursed armor or no. No, it's more fun for them to peel us apart and drive us out of our minds first. We in the fort are just as much playthings to them as the girls being tickled outside are.
It's the begging that gets to me. If I only had to listen to them laughing all the time then I could get used to it. The bats are making a point of only tickling them for a little bit past what they can stand. After that the girls are given a bit to catch their breath before starting again.
They always start out strong. Her Majesty's paladins are tough enough that they can spit in the bats' faces when they come back for another go. But even the toughest paladin eventually cracks when the torture doesn't stop. The ones who've been held captive for the past moon no longer beg, they're too broken to do anything but laugh when tickled now, but the newest prisoners are the worst. Hearing their increasingly desperate apologies and pleas for their tormentors not to tickle them again only to start laughing a minute later is impossible to tune out. It's made me begin to wish that the bats wouldn't give them any opportunities to rest. That they'd just destroy them as quickly as possible so I wouldn't have to hear my friends throw away their dignity in the hopes of finding some mercy that was never going to come.
You'd think that with more girls to play with every day they'd tickle each one less. As far as I can tell, the bats are arriving faster than they're capturing us. Every girl is now spending nearly 3 times as long being tickled every day as they were a moon ago. I remember looking over the wall before and each captive "only" had to endure a few hours of on-and-off-again light finger tickling. Now when I look over it's pretty much dawn-till-dusk of hard gang tickling with their bodies covered in oil to make their skin slippery and easier to tickle, brushes scrubbing armpits, feathers being dragged across the womanhoods, having their nipples twisted until they cry out in lustful agony, giant rolling pin-like mechanisms that spin around to whip feathers all across their entire stomachs at once just by turning a crank, and bats chewing on their toes like they're the best candies in the world. Sometimes, if the girl's lucky she only suffers some of that at a time. The unlucky ones get it all at once with more getting the full treatment every time the sun rises.
They got Glynda last night. She was caught attempting to crawl through the grass on the sides of the road. I watched as the damn bats made her kneel in just her panties outside the back gates. She had to keep her hands behind the back of her head as a pair of torturers in black leather suckled on those giant nipples of hers while another a third lightly scratched its talons across her bare feet.
It didn't stop until she was too driven out of her mind with desire to keep her fingers laced anymore. In the next instant they'd wrestled her face down onto the ground with her tormentors sitting on her arms and legs. Glynda was screaming like a woman possessed from now having those talons wiggling in her armpits, dancing all over her jiggling ass, and digging into her feet so viciously that the previous tickles looked like a day at a noble's spa.
Those bitches weren't satisfied until they'd driven her completely insane. They made her beg, forced her to plead for them to tear off her panties and service her so loud the entire fort could hear. After that it only got worse. They took off her panties alright, but they weren't going to let her feel anything close to pleasure. Glynda was wrestled onto her back and tied to a pair of stakes in the ground that kept her stretched tight. I don't know if even she knew how ticklish her womanhood was before that, but she was laughing harder than ever before from a bat skittering its nails all over her bare loins, a second stroking feathers across her nipples, and the third grabbing that giant scrubbing brush of theirs to get both feet at once.
I couldn't watch anymore. I walked away so I wouldn't have to see my best friend suffer like that. That doesn't mean I can't hear it though. They still haven't let up. For a while Glynda was screaming for someone to grant her her final mercy already. Now she's just laughing like a deranged animal. There's nothing I can do to keep the sound out. No soundproofing in the world is good enough to keep that hellish noise from working its way into my quarters.
I'm making a break for it tonight. Maybe one of the horses is fast enough for me to outrun them. Doesn't really matter if it isn't though. I'm gonna be joining Glynda sooner than later if I stick around.
Minutes of Her Majesty's Court for Half Moon of the 5th Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
Attendees:
Her Majesty: The shining light who leads our holy kingdom to greatness. A divine ray of beauty and wisdom beyond all mortal ken.
A Maid: A perverted exhibitionist found riding into the capitol bound hand and foot to her horse in the nude. Claims to have served at the Three Rivers Mountain Pass Fortress. Name not worth recording.
The captain of the royal guard: A brain dead oaf of a woman who would lose a battle of wits against a headless chicken. How she got her position is known only to Her Highness. Name very much not worth recording.
Myself: A lowly scribe blessed with the sacred duty of transcribing Her Majesty's every holy utterance.
Assorted leeches, parasites, mindlessly obedient sycophants, and professional bootlickers all lacking the requisite brain cells needed to dress themselves in the morning. Heavens know they'd probably spend every day in the nude if their servants became indisposed.
Transcript:
The maid proves to at least have the wits about her to grovel in the presence of Her Majesty. The girl was provided a simple maid's outfit as befitting her station. It now occurs to me that we probably should have found one with a longer skirt. The maid's posterior is on full display as she kneels on all fours in the center of Her Majesty's hall with her head pressed to the ground, though given her previous unsightly display riding into the capitol a part of me suspects she doesn't mind.
She is currently relaying a report of how the Three Rivers Mountain Pass Fortress has fallen to the Succubi. It's more of a fantastical tale really, one that makes even the most blatantly false tales of a bard's trysts with foreign maidens seem downright believable. It baffles the mind that this airheaded girl somehow believes we're going to buy the story that one of Her Majesty's most holy Paladinic orders somehow fell to the horrible tortures of having their feet lightly tickled.
Seeing as this girl's story is obviously too fantastical to be worth transcribing: For those who have perhaps been living in a cave for the past several decades, the Succubi (or "the bats" in common parlance) are a race of demons hailing from the western frontiers. They are a race fabled to take the form of beautiful women with leathery bat wings sprouting out of their backs and a propensity towards wearing clothing that falls to pieces under the duress of a slight breeze. In Her Majesty's infinite wisdom, their ability to curse men with insatiable lust has been countered with an exclusively female order of Paladins who bear no inclinations towards members of the same sex. Thanks to the nigh impassable mountain range covering our nation's western border, outside of the Three Rivers Mountain Pass, they have been deemed the lowest of threats on Her Majesty's borders. Truly, to think that this little twit has the gall to make up a t-
I have been informed by a certain oaf that it has been deemed that the maid's current section of the tale is somehow relevant enough to be worth recording. To listen to such tedium is the life of one of Her Majesty's scribes, I suppose.
The Three Rivers Mountain Pass Fortress fell after roughly 2 moons of continuous siege. By the maid's estimates, desertion in the ranks had caused the Paladinic order to be reduced to roughly 1/3rd its maximum fighting strength while associated supported staff had shrunk to the point of no longer being able to sustain the facility. As what I can only describe as a fitting punishment for such cowardice in the face of the enemy, the deserters were all present and accounted for as victims of the Succubi's tickling "torture" treatment. The Succubi ranks, on the other hand, are estimated to have swelled by nearly 5 times before they launched their final attack.
The fortress was taken without any casualties. All who were still inside were overwhelmed with sheer numbers to be taken prisoner. The maid describes the resulting state of the facility as a, in her own words, "hell of laughter". Paladins were denied the privilege of wearing clothes and were forced to travel around the compound in the nude on all fours like dogs.
Which was apparently only possible when the succubi weren't tickling them. Allegedly, every hall was lined with naked human women chained to the walls. Rooms were filled with bondage equipment to hold yet more captives for more focused sessions and the courtyard was lined with stakes so humans could be bound standing to them outside. The Succubi whiled away the hours by tickling their captives. The maid claims that over the following weeks she began to consider herself lucky if she managed more than a few minutes of rest from the constant tickling during her waking hours. Every time a Succubi found a human with a spot free of being tickled she would begin to tickle them until the demon grew bored. By the maid's account, the demon would grow sleepy well before they were finished toying with their captive's bare flesh.
Our speaker claims she was allowed to escape after an incident involving being brought to the commander's room. Commander Maria Holdt was described as a "wreck" by this point. The commander was tied spread eagle to her own bed with her hair being described as in disarray around her head and her skin coated in sweat. The maid claims that as she was being tied to a chair at the foot of the bed the commander was in the middle of having her bare privates lightly teased by a trio of Succubi.
Maria Holdt must have been being sexually abused for an extended period of time, because her normally unflappable demeanor had broken to beg her tormentors in desperation to allow her to orgasm. Once the maid was finished being bound, the Succubi shoved a piece of cloth into Maria Holdt's mouth and propped her head up on a pillow to force her to look at the maid. The girl's face turned red and she refuses to elaborate on what the Succubi proceeded to do to her, but she claims that by the end she could barely see through the orgasm-induced haze that had overcome her. What she did recall was the sight of the commander openly sobbing with envy at what she'd just been forced to witness.
If that weren't cruel enough, the Succubi returned to Maria Holdt's bed to begin gang tickling her. She was repeatedly taunted by the demons over how the sexual stimulation they'd subjected her to had pushed her to become more susceptible to tickling than ever before. The Succubi were described as one using her hand to stretch Maria's foot taut by pulling on her toes with one hand while the other wielded a hairbrush horizontally across her arches. A second was kneeling on the commander's shoulder to pin down her arms so she could reach down and flick at her swollen nipples with the tips of her nails. Finally, the third was skittering her nails all around her thighs, loins, stomach, and hips, all while making certain to never touch her womanhood.
Maria Holdt was described as reacting by laughing like a woman who'd gone mad. The maid claims to not have been able to keep track of time, but after being released it had been half a moon before the Succubi were done tickling the commander. The Succubi worked in shifts to keep her in a perpetual state of agony as punishment for leading the fortress against them. It was an endless cycle of Maria being tickled and stimulated to the verge of orgasm only to be forced to watch as any pleasure she could have experienced was granted to the maid instead. Right before she was released, the maid claims that Commander Maria Holdt had been reduced to getting on all fours and licking her tormentors' womanhoods in an attempt to bargain for the tickling to stop only to be wrestled back onto the bed to have the cycle repeat anew the moment the demons had been satisfied.
After that, the girl was bound hand and foot to a horse and released from the fortress with the intent of letting her spread the word of what had happened. She has now broken down screaming, from what I can only describe as crazed terror, that "the bats" are approaching and screaming that she doesn't wish to be tickled again. The oaf has finally proven to have some idea of what her job is by ordering several guards to lead her away.
Foolishness. That is the only way I can describe these proceedings. Complete and utter foolishness. It is proof of Her Majesty's endless love for her people that she was willing to waste her time entertaining such drivel. Truly, to claim that an entire fortress was taken down with as silly a method as tickling requires an imagination of the most active order to even begin to comprehend.
I believe I will go have a talk with the torturers in the dungeons after this. Her Majesty's mercy is endless, but mine is not. To waste the time of royalty with such a fabrication requires punishment. If that girl hates being tickled that much, then it seems appropriate that the torturers find themselves some high quality feathers.
Excerpt from "Historical Accounts: On the Rise and Fall of Nations"
Conquest of the Holy Kingdom of Ohkepis was officially declared as complete by the queen of the Succubi within 7 moons of the fall of the Three Rivers Mountain Pass Fortress. Borders were officially closed soon after with all entry and exit being denied.
Refugees who had fled the kingdom in the ensuing chaos described humans as being categorized as slaves under the new Succubi ruling class. Engaging in tickling had become a new daily norm for humans of marriageable age. Many accounts held that man and woman alike spent the majority of their days stark naked being tickle tortured by local succubi. Those that were especially ticklish or susceptible to the Succubi's charming influence are claimed to rarely experience anything else.
Little is known of what became of the Queen of Ohkepis following the fall of her nation. There have been claims that a realistic looking painting of the queen being forced to prostrate herself before the queen of the Succubi in the nude with demons tickling her feet, rear end, and ribs, but it is currently unknown if that is a reflection of actual events or an artist's speculations. Either way, it is currently assumed that even if the painting is false, common consensus is that there is little reason to doubt that the queen has experienced any fate differing from her citizens'.
Similarly, all information flow coming from Ohkepis has ceased in the following years. At the time of this writing, succubus sightings along our nation's borders have increased. Only time will tell what their intentions are.
Check out Quills' story here. He really knocked it out of the park with this one so I can't recommend it enough for lovers of more intense tickles.
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To: Her Majesty's Royal Armory
Salutation,
I hope this missive finds you well. I am writing to express my thanks for the latest shipment of armor delivered last month. I know not of what material it was made with, but the troops are singing high praises for it being durable enough to repel even the strongest of the succubi's blows with only minimal restriction of flexibility. Reports are flooding in that skirmishes have been proceeding with minimal losses. With this, we are pleased to report to Her Majesty that the Three Rivers Mountain Pass leading into succubus territory shall hold stronger than ever before, and I wish to convey to Her Majesty herself that your noble establishment's efforts in procuring new equipment are to thanks.
If I may be so bold, may you please tell us where you received these goods from? I wish to nominate their creator for a suitable reward as a gesture of thanks.
Sincerely,
Maria Holdt, Commander of the 32nd Battalion
New Moon of the 2nd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
To: Three Rivers Mountain Pass, Commander's Office
My greetings,
You'll have to forgive my forwardness on this ma'am, but I beg for clarification. I regret to inform you that we haven't been able to send any new shipments to your fort in several months. Road conditions in that area have been especially troubling as of late. Reports of disappearances have become alarmingly frequent with many royal messengers and convoys being reported as going missing in transit.
To speak plainly: If you received any recent shipments, then it couldn't have been from the capitol.
May you ever be in Her Majesty's Favor,
Sarah Malturn, Quartermaster of Her Majesty's Royal Armoury
Waxing Moon of the 2nd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
--Postmaster General's Note: Her Majesty has recently declared that all outgoing missives are to cease until the issue with the disappearances has been resolved. We'll have to wait on delivering this one until our girls stop vanishing off the roads.
32nd Battalion, 5th Recon Squad Status Report for Waxing Moon of the 2nd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
No hostiles detected along patrol route 4 in the last week. No anything detected, for that matter. We didn't see a single deer or rabbit for the entire week. Not even a bird. Emergency rations had to be opened to feed the team long enough to report back to base. Requesting additional surveillance for patrol route 4. Something's going on there, and I'd like to find out what it is before it [an ink blotch renders the words illegible] becomes a problem.
9th squad didn't link up with us when they were supposed to. My team waited a whole day at the intersection with patrol route 2 and they never showed. Putting a request in for disciplinary action. Can't have them standing up other squads like that.
Signed,
Melody Wildfield, Squad Leader for the 5th Recon Squad
Excerpt from the diary of Maria Holdt, Commander of the 32nd Battalion.
Waning Moon of the 3rd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
It's becoming increasingly hard to suppress murmurings amongst the troops that something is wrong here. 3 recon squads have gone missing on routine patrols in as many weeks. Investigation of their respective patrol routes found signs of struggle and discarded personal effects where they were presumably taken, but no blood or other signs of battle at any of the locations. I'm not certain if I should take it as a good sign or not. Any sign that the patrols could still be alive helps foster hope that we'll see them again alive and well. What concerns me though is that despite these hopes that they may yet live, not a single one has returned to report on the attacks. One cannot help but worry that this means that whatever assaulted them was overwhelming enough to capture entire teams of Her Majesty's holy paladins alive yet at the same time stealthy enough to snatch them from right under the nose of the fortress.
We'll be organizing a search party tomorrow. All but the bare minimum staff needed to maintain the facility will be fielded. Whatever this new threat is needs to be stom
Excerpt from the diary of Melody Wildfield, Squad Leader for the 5th Recon Squad
Waning Moon of the 3rd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
Well we found the missing recon squads. I'm still not entirely certain how to process any of this. The bishop always said that verbalizing what happened helps get over a heavy conscious (in what I think is a roundabout way of telling me to show up to confessionals more), but confessional's got a waiting list longer than the mess on steak day today. The boss allegedly keeps a diary so I figured that'd be worth a shot. Didn't even keep one of these things as a moonstruck teen, but fuck it. Worst that happens is I burn this stupid thing before anyone can read it.
We spotted the bats approaching from damn near halfway down the mountain path. More than enough time for everyone to suit up and get into position. My bet was that those great big wooden machines were siege engines. Didn't get to get a good look until they'd parked the things right outside longbow range. Took me a bit to figure out what was going on, and I don't think I really internalized it until the screaming started.
They weren't siege engines. They were more like those pavilions they put pillories on with wheels nailed on. Each was lined with stocks, pillories, stretching tables, you name it and they got it. And locked in those was every member of the missing recon squads to the last woman. Even from that distance I could tell that the bats had stripped each of them naked. They certainly didn't care about preserving their prisoners' modesty. There were plenty of girls bound so that their bare chests, loins, and asses were on display.
Right before our very eyes the bats started climbing on the pavilion and tickling the captive troops. You know tickling? That thing kids do? Except I'd paid a visit to the castle's torture chambers once and the laughter coming out of our girls' mouths sounded a lot closer to the screams I'd heard there than the giggles of children. The bats were using those unnaturally long talons of theirs to scratch at their captives' bare breasts, stomachs, thighs, asses, feet... Basically, their nails went to whichever body part was closest to us. Like they wanted us to see what they were doing.
Well, all that screaming brought the boss stomping out of her chambers. She started yelling and hollering at us to get off our asses and save our folks already. We opened the gates and came pouring out to give the bats a good walloping.
I... I don't know what happened from there on out. Everything went to shit. All the bats had to do was poke our armor and it'd just kinda... fall off. It's like all those holy wards the priests had engraved into our armor weren't worth a cow's fart anymore for some reason. Girls were getting stripped to their underwear or less and wrestled to the ground in seconds.
After that it was a rout. Nobody knew what was going on. Everyone just wanted to get the hell out of dodge before they were next. I think after the final tally by the time we'd gotten back inside and shut the gate behind us we'd lost nearly a quarter of the girls who'd headed out.
The screaming hasn't stopped since then. It's only grown louder. Everyone who got captured was immediately dragged up to the pavilion, had whatever clothes they had left torn off, and got a bat assigned to start tickling them too. Even as I write this, well after nightfall, I can still hear their laughter through the walls. It's gonna be hell getting any sleep tonight.
Excerpt from the diary of Maria Holdt, Commander of the 32nd Battalion.
Waning Moon of the 3rd Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
I don't dare tell the troops this, not even the priests at the confessional, for fear of being responsible for striking blow to this fortress' already flagging morale, but I must put this into words somehow: I am at wit's end.
Driving off the succubi has become impossible after that disastrous battle at the beginning of the siege. We lost too many paladins in the initial scuffle to risk another direct confrontation. It had come to our attention far too late that the latest shipment of armor was in fact cursed. According toe the priests' and quartermaster's combined status report, the armor had simply been forged to appear as if they were imbued with the holy magics that protected our troops from those demons while in reality were cursed to fall to pieces at the slightest touch from a succubus.
Knowing how our foe accomplished this vile sabotage only drives home how much of a failure of a commander I've proven to be. As far as I can tell, we've been surrounded for months. I don't know how the succubi snuck their army around the mountain when this fortress defends the only major pass with which to safely pass more than a handful of soldiers, but that doesn't change the fact of our situation. It's impossible to tell their numbers. They strike at every party that dares set foot outside the fortress' back gate.
We only realized what was happening when we dispatched messengers calling for reinforcements. The messengers had slipped out of the fortress in the darkness of pre-dawn, and the sun hadn't even fully shown itself by the time we found them bound naked to stakes with eye shot of the fortress walls. All of them were kept perpetually giggling by magical feathers flitting all over their bare bodies. Crueler still, a succubus was making the rounds to add to their torment. The bat-winged demon would use a large, stiff scrubbing brush to scrub large sections of the captives' stomachs for tens of minutes at a time. Even the toughest of paladins were quickly reduced to hysterical laughter by the relentless assault on their nerve endings in their bare stomachs.
Every couple rounds the demon would add to their torment by using its inhuman techniques to play with their unmentionables. The girls openly wept for their stolen chastity as they were incapable of preventing the demons' fingers from assaulting the erogenous zones, and even more helpless still as it denied whatever joy they could've gotten out of it by wielding its brush against their armpits, sides, and thighs.
I don't think I'll ever forget those expressions of terror on the captive girls' faces when the succubus began to approach them again, nor how those once proud warriors were reduced to full-blown weeping well before the demon was done with them. I can see it every time I close my eyes.
I've called for all attempts at fleeing to cease. The high canyon walls that protect us from attack on either flank have become our prison walls. The only two paths out of the mountain path, forward and back, have been taken by the enemy. There's no longer any way out. We no longer have the means or personnel necessary to pressure our enemy into making a mistake. Staying will only result in the fortress being overrun in due time. Running only leads to us being picked off and hastening the process.
I'm sorry, Her Majesty. I've failed both you and the paladins under my command. No matter how much I wrack my brain I fail to see any other outcome than our demise.
I'm sorry. I've failed you all as a leader in the times that need strong leadership the most. I [the ink on the paper is too stained by an unknown liquid to be legible]
Excerpt from the diary of Melody Wildfield, Squad Leader for the 5th Recon Squad
Waxing Moon of the 4th Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
Is it wrong of me that I wish that the succubi would never stop tickling my sisters in arms? Who am I kidding, of course it is. I just can't take it anymore. I just can't fucking take this. It's been over a moon since the siege started and I've been made to listen to the agonized laughter of the troops every moment of both day and night. The situation gets worse by the day. People have been ignoring boss' orders to stand firm and prepare for a counterattack. They're slipping out in small groups trying to sneak past the siege. All it's done is get them joining the ranks of girls being tickled and making any hope of hitting back even more of a distant twinkle in the boss' eye.
The sound attack continues morning and night. The captives are forced awake and mercilessly tickled every day in shifts so we never get a break from the sound of our own folks' howling. That's what's making people try to run. It's the bat's entire strategy. They don't care about taking the fort. We lost too many paladins a moon ago to prevent them from running us over if they tried, cursed armor or no. No, it's more fun for them to peel us apart and drive us out of our minds first. We in the fort are just as much playthings to them as the girls being tickled outside are.
It's the begging that gets to me. If I only had to listen to them laughing all the time then I could get used to it. The bats are making a point of only tickling them for a little bit past what they can stand. After that the girls are given a bit to catch their breath before starting again.
They always start out strong. Her Majesty's paladins are tough enough that they can spit in the bats' faces when they come back for another go. But even the toughest paladin eventually cracks when the torture doesn't stop. The ones who've been held captive for the past moon no longer beg, they're too broken to do anything but laugh when tickled now, but the newest prisoners are the worst. Hearing their increasingly desperate apologies and pleas for their tormentors not to tickle them again only to start laughing a minute later is impossible to tune out. It's made me begin to wish that the bats wouldn't give them any opportunities to rest. That they'd just destroy them as quickly as possible so I wouldn't have to hear my friends throw away their dignity in the hopes of finding some mercy that was never going to come.
You'd think that with more girls to play with every day they'd tickle each one less. As far as I can tell, the bats are arriving faster than they're capturing us. Every girl is now spending nearly 3 times as long being tickled every day as they were a moon ago. I remember looking over the wall before and each captive "only" had to endure a few hours of on-and-off-again light finger tickling. Now when I look over it's pretty much dawn-till-dusk of hard gang tickling with their bodies covered in oil to make their skin slippery and easier to tickle, brushes scrubbing armpits, feathers being dragged across the womanhoods, having their nipples twisted until they cry out in lustful agony, giant rolling pin-like mechanisms that spin around to whip feathers all across their entire stomachs at once just by turning a crank, and bats chewing on their toes like they're the best candies in the world. Sometimes, if the girl's lucky she only suffers some of that at a time. The unlucky ones get it all at once with more getting the full treatment every time the sun rises.
They got Glynda last night. She was caught attempting to crawl through the grass on the sides of the road. I watched as the damn bats made her kneel in just her panties outside the back gates. She had to keep her hands behind the back of her head as a pair of torturers in black leather suckled on those giant nipples of hers while another a third lightly scratched its talons across her bare feet.
It didn't stop until she was too driven out of her mind with desire to keep her fingers laced anymore. In the next instant they'd wrestled her face down onto the ground with her tormentors sitting on her arms and legs. Glynda was screaming like a woman possessed from now having those talons wiggling in her armpits, dancing all over her jiggling ass, and digging into her feet so viciously that the previous tickles looked like a day at a noble's spa.
Those bitches weren't satisfied until they'd driven her completely insane. They made her beg, forced her to plead for them to tear off her panties and service her so loud the entire fort could hear. After that it only got worse. They took off her panties alright, but they weren't going to let her feel anything close to pleasure. Glynda was wrestled onto her back and tied to a pair of stakes in the ground that kept her stretched tight. I don't know if even she knew how ticklish her womanhood was before that, but she was laughing harder than ever before from a bat skittering its nails all over her bare loins, a second stroking feathers across her nipples, and the third grabbing that giant scrubbing brush of theirs to get both feet at once.
I couldn't watch anymore. I walked away so I wouldn't have to see my best friend suffer like that. That doesn't mean I can't hear it though. They still haven't let up. For a while Glynda was screaming for someone to grant her her final mercy already. Now she's just laughing like a deranged animal. There's nothing I can do to keep the sound out. No soundproofing in the world is good enough to keep that hellish noise from working its way into my quarters.
I'm making a break for it tonight. Maybe one of the horses is fast enough for me to outrun them. Doesn't really matter if it isn't though. I'm gonna be joining Glynda sooner than later if I stick around.
Minutes of Her Majesty's Court for Half Moon of the 5th Month of Spring, 7th Year of Her Majesty's Reign
Attendees:
Her Majesty: The shining light who leads our holy kingdom to greatness. A divine ray of beauty and wisdom beyond all mortal ken.
A Maid: A perverted exhibitionist found riding into the capitol bound hand and foot to her horse in the nude. Claims to have served at the Three Rivers Mountain Pass Fortress. Name not worth recording.
The captain of the royal guard: A brain dead oaf of a woman who would lose a battle of wits against a headless chicken. How she got her position is known only to Her Highness. Name very much not worth recording.
Myself: A lowly scribe blessed with the sacred duty of transcribing Her Majesty's every holy utterance.
Assorted leeches, parasites, mindlessly obedient sycophants, and professional bootlickers all lacking the requisite brain cells needed to dress themselves in the morning. Heavens know they'd probably spend every day in the nude if their servants became indisposed.
Transcript:
The maid proves to at least have the wits about her to grovel in the presence of Her Majesty. The girl was provided a simple maid's outfit as befitting her station. It now occurs to me that we probably should have found one with a longer skirt. The maid's posterior is on full display as she kneels on all fours in the center of Her Majesty's hall with her head pressed to the ground, though given her previous unsightly display riding into the capitol a part of me suspects she doesn't mind.
She is currently relaying a report of how the Three Rivers Mountain Pass Fortress has fallen to the Succubi. It's more of a fantastical tale really, one that makes even the most blatantly false tales of a bard's trysts with foreign maidens seem downright believable. It baffles the mind that this airheaded girl somehow believes we're going to buy the story that one of Her Majesty's most holy Paladinic orders somehow fell to the horrible tortures of having their feet lightly tickled.
Seeing as this girl's story is obviously too fantastical to be worth transcribing: For those who have perhaps been living in a cave for the past several decades, the Succubi (or "the bats" in common parlance) are a race of demons hailing from the western frontiers. They are a race fabled to take the form of beautiful women with leathery bat wings sprouting out of their backs and a propensity towards wearing clothing that falls to pieces under the duress of a slight breeze. In Her Majesty's infinite wisdom, their ability to curse men with insatiable lust has been countered with an exclusively female order of Paladins who bear no inclinations towards members of the same sex. Thanks to the nigh impassable mountain range covering our nation's western border, outside of the Three Rivers Mountain Pass, they have been deemed the lowest of threats on Her Majesty's borders. Truly, to think that this little twit has the gall to make up a t-
I have been informed by a certain oaf that it has been deemed that the maid's current section of the tale is somehow relevant enough to be worth recording. To listen to such tedium is the life of one of Her Majesty's scribes, I suppose.
The Three Rivers Mountain Pass Fortress fell after roughly 2 moons of continuous siege. By the maid's estimates, desertion in the ranks had caused the Paladinic order to be reduced to roughly 1/3rd its maximum fighting strength while associated supported staff had shrunk to the point of no longer being able to sustain the facility. As what I can only describe as a fitting punishment for such cowardice in the face of the enemy, the deserters were all present and accounted for as victims of the Succubi's tickling "torture" treatment. The Succubi ranks, on the other hand, are estimated to have swelled by nearly 5 times before they launched their final attack.
The fortress was taken without any casualties. All who were still inside were overwhelmed with sheer numbers to be taken prisoner. The maid describes the resulting state of the facility as a, in her own words, "hell of laughter". Paladins were denied the privilege of wearing clothes and were forced to travel around the compound in the nude on all fours like dogs.
Which was apparently only possible when the succubi weren't tickling them. Allegedly, every hall was lined with naked human women chained to the walls. Rooms were filled with bondage equipment to hold yet more captives for more focused sessions and the courtyard was lined with stakes so humans could be bound standing to them outside. The Succubi whiled away the hours by tickling their captives. The maid claims that over the following weeks she began to consider herself lucky if she managed more than a few minutes of rest from the constant tickling during her waking hours. Every time a Succubi found a human with a spot free of being tickled she would begin to tickle them until the demon grew bored. By the maid's account, the demon would grow sleepy well before they were finished toying with their captive's bare flesh.
Our speaker claims she was allowed to escape after an incident involving being brought to the commander's room. Commander Maria Holdt was described as a "wreck" by this point. The commander was tied spread eagle to her own bed with her hair being described as in disarray around her head and her skin coated in sweat. The maid claims that as she was being tied to a chair at the foot of the bed the commander was in the middle of having her bare privates lightly teased by a trio of Succubi.
Maria Holdt must have been being sexually abused for an extended period of time, because her normally unflappable demeanor had broken to beg her tormentors in desperation to allow her to orgasm. Once the maid was finished being bound, the Succubi shoved a piece of cloth into Maria Holdt's mouth and propped her head up on a pillow to force her to look at the maid. The girl's face turned red and she refuses to elaborate on what the Succubi proceeded to do to her, but she claims that by the end she could barely see through the orgasm-induced haze that had overcome her. What she did recall was the sight of the commander openly sobbing with envy at what she'd just been forced to witness.
If that weren't cruel enough, the Succubi returned to Maria Holdt's bed to begin gang tickling her. She was repeatedly taunted by the demons over how the sexual stimulation they'd subjected her to had pushed her to become more susceptible to tickling than ever before. The Succubi were described as one using her hand to stretch Maria's foot taut by pulling on her toes with one hand while the other wielded a hairbrush horizontally across her arches. A second was kneeling on the commander's shoulder to pin down her arms so she could reach down and flick at her swollen nipples with the tips of her nails. Finally, the third was skittering her nails all around her thighs, loins, stomach, and hips, all while making certain to never touch her womanhood.
Maria Holdt was described as reacting by laughing like a woman who'd gone mad. The maid claims to not have been able to keep track of time, but after being released it had been half a moon before the Succubi were done tickling the commander. The Succubi worked in shifts to keep her in a perpetual state of agony as punishment for leading the fortress against them. It was an endless cycle of Maria being tickled and stimulated to the verge of orgasm only to be forced to watch as any pleasure she could have experienced was granted to the maid instead. Right before she was released, the maid claims that Commander Maria Holdt had been reduced to getting on all fours and licking her tormentors' womanhoods in an attempt to bargain for the tickling to stop only to be wrestled back onto the bed to have the cycle repeat anew the moment the demons had been satisfied.
After that, the girl was bound hand and foot to a horse and released from the fortress with the intent of letting her spread the word of what had happened. She has now broken down screaming, from what I can only describe as crazed terror, that "the bats" are approaching and screaming that she doesn't wish to be tickled again. The oaf has finally proven to have some idea of what her job is by ordering several guards to lead her away.
Foolishness. That is the only way I can describe these proceedings. Complete and utter foolishness. It is proof of Her Majesty's endless love for her people that she was willing to waste her time entertaining such drivel. Truly, to claim that an entire fortress was taken down with as silly a method as tickling requires an imagination of the most active order to even begin to comprehend.
I believe I will go have a talk with the torturers in the dungeons after this. Her Majesty's mercy is endless, but mine is not. To waste the time of royalty with such a fabrication requires punishment. If that girl hates being tickled that much, then it seems appropriate that the torturers find themselves some high quality feathers.
Excerpt from "Historical Accounts: On the Rise and Fall of Nations"
Conquest of the Holy Kingdom of Ohkepis was officially declared as complete by the queen of the Succubi within 7 moons of the fall of the Three Rivers Mountain Pass Fortress. Borders were officially closed soon after with all entry and exit being denied.
Refugees who had fled the kingdom in the ensuing chaos described humans as being categorized as slaves under the new Succubi ruling class. Engaging in tickling had become a new daily norm for humans of marriageable age. Many accounts held that man and woman alike spent the majority of their days stark naked being tickle tortured by local succubi. Those that were especially ticklish or susceptible to the Succubi's charming influence are claimed to rarely experience anything else.
Little is known of what became of the Queen of Ohkepis following the fall of her nation. There have been claims that a realistic looking painting of the queen being forced to prostrate herself before the queen of the Succubi in the nude with demons tickling her feet, rear end, and ribs, but it is currently unknown if that is a reflection of actual events or an artist's speculations. Either way, it is currently assumed that even if the painting is false, common consensus is that there is little reason to doubt that the queen has experienced any fate differing from her citizens'.
Similarly, all information flow coming from Ohkepis has ceased in the following years. At the time of this writing, succubus sightings along our nation's borders have increased. Only time will tell what their intentions are.
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