WriterOfSin
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2009
- Messages
- 287
- Points
- 18
The only sound was the rustle of the chains that held her hands fast to the wall. Fran had long ago given up trying to break them, all she'd managed was to leave her arms sore and bruised as her ego. To have fallen captive to a bunch of pathetically equipped humes offended her pride, and it was only made worse by what they'd done to her. She'd been dumped on a rickety bedframe, the lumpy straw mattress hidden under a rumpled sheet of blue cotton, and chains had been fastened around her wrists and padlocked shut, after both ends had been thrown through a wall-mounted ring first.
All she could see was dark stone walls, the barest flicker of light coming from the barred opening in the stout oak door. A jar of some liquid glimmered in the near twilight, along with a scattered few products she recognised as Hume hygiene creations, and the bottom of the bed she lay upon held a pair of stocks. She'd seen them many times before, often holding hume miscreants, but she'd never realised what it was like to be in them herself. Five holes had been carved in it, unusual, or at least she thought. Oft the strange small-ears had seemed to just carve two or three into them, but the two smaller holes close the central larger hold now contained her slender legs.
Now she could hear a new noise...the tapping of booted feet as if someone was going for an idle stroll! She growled at the door, hoping to attract the attention of the new arrival. With luck they'd see reason, and let her go. Better that then risk her being rescued by Balthier. "Hume! Where is the master of this place?!" The boots didn't change their pace, still tapping away as if the wearer hadn't even heard her. She fumed as she strained at the chains once-again, only stopping when the sound of a key turning in the lock got her attention.
She barked at the creature before her, unable to make out the features in the poor light. She cursed, wishing that the Green Word's gift of excellent eyesight had stretched so far as to nightvision. "You, servant. Where's your master?" she barked coldly. Only a giggle escaped the shadowed face as the newcomer stepped into the light. "Why hello, Fran, my dear Viera-oh, I'm sorry," she crooned, "...my dear outcast Viera." The long-eared woman could only growl again as she glared at the face she recognised. "Judge Drace."
The hume female was tall, nowhere near as long as Fran, but still enough to comfortably look down upon the captive Viera. "My dear Fran," she smiled as she paced closer, "I think you know exactly why you're here."
Fran sneered in reply, "What, did you think it wouldn't be obvious? You want to know where Balthier is, don't you?" The sneer only got deeper as she got a nod of acknowledgement in return. "And what makes you think I'm going to tell you anything, Judge?" She spat the last word out with a hard edge of disgust.
The Judge just smiled more at the vitriolic retort. With a silent flourish, she slid her right hand from behind her where she'd clasped it with her left. The feather fluttered with the motion as she brandished it victoriously in front of her captive's gaze. Fran's face was stony with disappointment. "You'll need to think of something more unique in order for me to speak the words you wish," she intoned. Inside her head she was crowing with laughter at the thought of what the hume intended. Her sisters and she had used feathers to tickle each other as children in games. What did she think a simple quill would do to a full-grown Viera warrior like herself?" She smiled fiercely now, "I can guarantee you will not get anything out of my Viera lips!"
"Oh Fran," Drace purred, "Surely as a soldier of fortune you know now it's not what you've got, but how you use it?" She stalked closer now, walking up to the stand besides the bed as she idly toyed with the instruments gathered on it, Fran's eyes glued to her movements like a viper waiting to pounce on its prey. "What do you think of this?" Drace asked, the feather deftly streaking across her exposed underarm. The long-eared Viera leapt back, cursing herself for the reaction. It was a simple feather! Just because she had been surprised didn't excuse her cowardice. The hume smiled at her. "Oh, that got you going, didn't it? How about...this!" The feather soared over her exposed belly, sending another flutter through her body. Drace's smile was so wide it seemed her head was about to fall off now, and she giggled with delight. "Oh, we are going to have so much fun here."
She reached for one of the small brushes beside her, putting the bristles against the outcast's neck, and stroked away. Forward, backward, up, down, it was all the same to Fran as she cranked her head every which way she could to try and control the movement of the brush. It didn't matter, Drace was swirling it like a dancer, letting loose a sight of contentment every so often. The contest ended as soon as the feather touched her belly once more, a feeling of butterflies following its endlessly circling path as she strained at the chains and kicked back from the thick stocks as best she could.
The tall Viera glowered at her captor, lunging forward with a sharp motion as she narrowly missed headbutting Drace. "Tut-tut, Fran," murmured the Judge. "There's a penalty for that." She put the feather and the mouth-brush down on the table besides the obscured jar, this time reaching for the rough-bladed scalpel that lay on it. One hand reached out to brace itself across the top of her chest, while the scalpel silently slit through the slender fabric covering over her chest. "Like what you see, pervert?" grinned Fran through bared teeth. "Is it what you always wanted to see for yourself?"
The hume woman smiled at her. "Oh, I like it. But I like this more." The edge of the scalpel trailed along her exposed breasts, and she froze in panic. Drace leant in, whispering softly in her ear. "Just enjoy it. It won't hurt, I promise you that." The blade began to spiral in from the top of her breast, coming closer, and closer than she liked, towards the pert nipple at the middle. Just as the blade reached its destination, Drace turned it flat so that the blade was scraped, the rough edge trailing behind it, along the soft and sensitive flesh.
Fran couldn't suppress the shudders it sent through her body, choosing to close her eyes so that she didn't have to look the judge in the face. It was cowardly, but how could she fight back? No sword would help stop the swirl of the blade, the darting nibbles Drace began to bestow on her neck. She could only try to suffer on through it all herself. "Yo-you know, hume, you're good at this," she gushed. "Were you a courtesan before now?" She wasn't prepared for the ringing slap across her face, and Drace stared at her with murderous eyes. The woman was silent, the attempt to calm herself written all over her face. "You...are going to regret that, you little freak." she snarled. Snatching a hand into her dress, she pulled out a small jar, uncapping it long enough to crowd it beneath the Viera's superhumany sensitive nostrils. Fran couldn't help but sniff it, her eyes falling shut as she slumped into a bone-weary slumber.
"...wakey, wakey," cooed a voice. Fran's eyes fluttered open, wearily before slamming shut again. The room was...it had been upside down? She opened them carefully this time. "What is going on?"
She could hear the mocking air in the reply, "this? it's just to show you how inventive we humes get when it comes to punishing our miscreants." The Viera could only look around in horror as she realised what had been done to her; her head was locked in the central hole of the stocks at the foot of the bed, her feet placed in the holes opposite to where they'd been before and her hands trapped in the ones at the furthest ends. Now she could feel the draft on her skin, and she realised as a hand trailed over her thighs that the judge had stripped her of her clothing entirely.
Drace was smiling as she picked up the liquid-holding pot that had lain on the sideboard, pulling out the honey-dipper with a slow twitch of her wrists, savouring what she was about to do. "You like honey, don't you? It must taste exquisite to your kind." She let a single strand of the golden syrup drip into Fran's mouth. "Yes. I wonder, does it feel different to you?" Fran just stared at her in confusion, gasping as Drace slowly slathered the honey-laden stick all over the arch of her left foot. "I don't know, maybe it feels like it would to a human. Oh, I know! Let's bring in a third party!" The judge sat back on her heels, whistling in a tone that rose and fell like a ship in rough seas. Viera blinked in surprise when it was answered, a woofing and a pattering of paws on the stone floor accompanying the spotted hound. It sniffed the air towards Fran's honey-laden foot eagerly, only for Drace to shush it back. "Oh, who's a good boy. Yes, you're a good boy, aren't you?" she teased.
One eye on Viera's face, still focused in rapt horror on the dog, she rolled the honey-stick all over her goop-covered foot again. "There, that's better." The hume smiled at the dog, "poor thing's not been fed today." She started whistling as she pointed to the vulnerable foot. "Eat!" Viera screamed as the hound bounded forward, tongue wagging. It lapped up the syrup hungrily, tongue wriggling up and over her struggling sole and slopping over her toes. Drace joined in the chorus of laughter, adding to it in a crescendo as she began to gently scratch the feather's tip along the exposed maidenhood of the long-eared female, her free hand viciously scrabbling along the sole of her victim's right sole. The feather rarely strayed from its lazy path, except for the gentle twirl it danced over Fran's inner thighs.
Eventually the judge whistled, and the dog sat back down on its haunches as she reached for the pot once more. "...yes, here we are," she cooed, slowly dribbling the honey again over both feet this time. "That's better, much better." She put the jar back again, this time reaching into her dress and pulling out a small length of bronze chain-links, each one appended by a screw-tightened grip. She hummed as she fixed each grip to Fran's taut nipples, screwing them shut with a look of relish on her face. "Did you know that my darling little boy there, he's got his own bitch?" she said in a weirdly normal voice. Fran couldn't stand it. What did the crazed woman want? She'd already made the offer she'd sworn she never would; to give up Balthier to her, and Drace had turned her down. She didn't even hear what Drace had said until the second dog bounded in, and the hume whistled for them to both attack the syrup feast before them.
The woman cradled the pot to her chest as she basked in the panicked aura and screamed pleas for mercy of the Viera outcast. Oh, this was just perfect. She was crowing inside at the fact that she, Judge Drace, had done what many thought impossible; she'd broken a Viera warrior. Too caught up in the moment, she chanced to lower her head down to the sweet sight of the dark maidenhood she'd already tormented with the feather and slurped away at the special 'honey' she was interested in. Eventually she stopped, whistling a second time for the dogs to pause, and slowly slathered the last few drabs of the now cold honey over Fran's underarms, slicked it around the tight nipple-clamps, and dribbled the last drops over the quivering womanhood she'd been feeding herself off, and coating the last dollop around the Viera's exposed ass.
She whistled once more, and Fran could only stare in horror as she heard the sound of more paws pattering on the stone slabs towards her. "Aren't they cute? A full litter, my boy and his bitch have had. Here, we start training them young to respond to commands." She called out a name and the smallest one, the only one with a collar and leash, trotted forward smartly. If Fran wasn't stuck in the situation she was now, she'd think it almost adorable herself, but she bucked madly as she felt Drace lift the puppy up and plopped it onto her chest. "Aww, he's hungry, isn't he?" The hume smiled as she gently rubbed his cold, wet, nose into the honey atop her maidenhood. "You like that, don't you little one?" She grinned again as she wrapped the leash around the free chain-links of the nipple-clamps and the puppy started forward again, rubbing his nose in it more as the clamps were pulled tight. Drace was busy lifting the other four puppies onto the bed, and each one had its nose rubbed into the honey somewhere as their parents padded forward silently to copy their litter on the Viera's arched feet.
"Do you know the best thing about this, Fran? When he's done licking all this away, what's he going to hunger for?"
Her captive began to beg now, "Drace, no! Please! It hurts already." She could tell it wasn't working on the madly cheerful judge. "Wait, wait! Look, you've done it! You've broken me, I admit it. I'm so-sorry!," the puppy strained forward again, "please, just let me go." She could only imagine what would happen as he struggled forward to lick away at the coating on the centre of her exposed bottom. The hume tutted. "Oh Fran, you don't see. This isn't about me breaking you." She laughed, a silky sound that made such a pleasant change to the incessant giggling of earlier. "This is humiliation." She whistled for the final time, and the dogs began to eat away at the vulnerable platter before them.
All she could see was dark stone walls, the barest flicker of light coming from the barred opening in the stout oak door. A jar of some liquid glimmered in the near twilight, along with a scattered few products she recognised as Hume hygiene creations, and the bottom of the bed she lay upon held a pair of stocks. She'd seen them many times before, often holding hume miscreants, but she'd never realised what it was like to be in them herself. Five holes had been carved in it, unusual, or at least she thought. Oft the strange small-ears had seemed to just carve two or three into them, but the two smaller holes close the central larger hold now contained her slender legs.
Now she could hear a new noise...the tapping of booted feet as if someone was going for an idle stroll! She growled at the door, hoping to attract the attention of the new arrival. With luck they'd see reason, and let her go. Better that then risk her being rescued by Balthier. "Hume! Where is the master of this place?!" The boots didn't change their pace, still tapping away as if the wearer hadn't even heard her. She fumed as she strained at the chains once-again, only stopping when the sound of a key turning in the lock got her attention.
She barked at the creature before her, unable to make out the features in the poor light. She cursed, wishing that the Green Word's gift of excellent eyesight had stretched so far as to nightvision. "You, servant. Where's your master?" she barked coldly. Only a giggle escaped the shadowed face as the newcomer stepped into the light. "Why hello, Fran, my dear Viera-oh, I'm sorry," she crooned, "...my dear outcast Viera." The long-eared woman could only growl again as she glared at the face she recognised. "Judge Drace."
The hume female was tall, nowhere near as long as Fran, but still enough to comfortably look down upon the captive Viera. "My dear Fran," she smiled as she paced closer, "I think you know exactly why you're here."
Fran sneered in reply, "What, did you think it wouldn't be obvious? You want to know where Balthier is, don't you?" The sneer only got deeper as she got a nod of acknowledgement in return. "And what makes you think I'm going to tell you anything, Judge?" She spat the last word out with a hard edge of disgust.
The Judge just smiled more at the vitriolic retort. With a silent flourish, she slid her right hand from behind her where she'd clasped it with her left. The feather fluttered with the motion as she brandished it victoriously in front of her captive's gaze. Fran's face was stony with disappointment. "You'll need to think of something more unique in order for me to speak the words you wish," she intoned. Inside her head she was crowing with laughter at the thought of what the hume intended. Her sisters and she had used feathers to tickle each other as children in games. What did she think a simple quill would do to a full-grown Viera warrior like herself?" She smiled fiercely now, "I can guarantee you will not get anything out of my Viera lips!"
"Oh Fran," Drace purred, "Surely as a soldier of fortune you know now it's not what you've got, but how you use it?" She stalked closer now, walking up to the stand besides the bed as she idly toyed with the instruments gathered on it, Fran's eyes glued to her movements like a viper waiting to pounce on its prey. "What do you think of this?" Drace asked, the feather deftly streaking across her exposed underarm. The long-eared Viera leapt back, cursing herself for the reaction. It was a simple feather! Just because she had been surprised didn't excuse her cowardice. The hume smiled at her. "Oh, that got you going, didn't it? How about...this!" The feather soared over her exposed belly, sending another flutter through her body. Drace's smile was so wide it seemed her head was about to fall off now, and she giggled with delight. "Oh, we are going to have so much fun here."
She reached for one of the small brushes beside her, putting the bristles against the outcast's neck, and stroked away. Forward, backward, up, down, it was all the same to Fran as she cranked her head every which way she could to try and control the movement of the brush. It didn't matter, Drace was swirling it like a dancer, letting loose a sight of contentment every so often. The contest ended as soon as the feather touched her belly once more, a feeling of butterflies following its endlessly circling path as she strained at the chains and kicked back from the thick stocks as best she could.
The tall Viera glowered at her captor, lunging forward with a sharp motion as she narrowly missed headbutting Drace. "Tut-tut, Fran," murmured the Judge. "There's a penalty for that." She put the feather and the mouth-brush down on the table besides the obscured jar, this time reaching for the rough-bladed scalpel that lay on it. One hand reached out to brace itself across the top of her chest, while the scalpel silently slit through the slender fabric covering over her chest. "Like what you see, pervert?" grinned Fran through bared teeth. "Is it what you always wanted to see for yourself?"
The hume woman smiled at her. "Oh, I like it. But I like this more." The edge of the scalpel trailed along her exposed breasts, and she froze in panic. Drace leant in, whispering softly in her ear. "Just enjoy it. It won't hurt, I promise you that." The blade began to spiral in from the top of her breast, coming closer, and closer than she liked, towards the pert nipple at the middle. Just as the blade reached its destination, Drace turned it flat so that the blade was scraped, the rough edge trailing behind it, along the soft and sensitive flesh.
Fran couldn't suppress the shudders it sent through her body, choosing to close her eyes so that she didn't have to look the judge in the face. It was cowardly, but how could she fight back? No sword would help stop the swirl of the blade, the darting nibbles Drace began to bestow on her neck. She could only try to suffer on through it all herself. "Yo-you know, hume, you're good at this," she gushed. "Were you a courtesan before now?" She wasn't prepared for the ringing slap across her face, and Drace stared at her with murderous eyes. The woman was silent, the attempt to calm herself written all over her face. "You...are going to regret that, you little freak." she snarled. Snatching a hand into her dress, she pulled out a small jar, uncapping it long enough to crowd it beneath the Viera's superhumany sensitive nostrils. Fran couldn't help but sniff it, her eyes falling shut as she slumped into a bone-weary slumber.
"...wakey, wakey," cooed a voice. Fran's eyes fluttered open, wearily before slamming shut again. The room was...it had been upside down? She opened them carefully this time. "What is going on?"
She could hear the mocking air in the reply, "this? it's just to show you how inventive we humes get when it comes to punishing our miscreants." The Viera could only look around in horror as she realised what had been done to her; her head was locked in the central hole of the stocks at the foot of the bed, her feet placed in the holes opposite to where they'd been before and her hands trapped in the ones at the furthest ends. Now she could feel the draft on her skin, and she realised as a hand trailed over her thighs that the judge had stripped her of her clothing entirely.
Drace was smiling as she picked up the liquid-holding pot that had lain on the sideboard, pulling out the honey-dipper with a slow twitch of her wrists, savouring what she was about to do. "You like honey, don't you? It must taste exquisite to your kind." She let a single strand of the golden syrup drip into Fran's mouth. "Yes. I wonder, does it feel different to you?" Fran just stared at her in confusion, gasping as Drace slowly slathered the honey-laden stick all over the arch of her left foot. "I don't know, maybe it feels like it would to a human. Oh, I know! Let's bring in a third party!" The judge sat back on her heels, whistling in a tone that rose and fell like a ship in rough seas. Viera blinked in surprise when it was answered, a woofing and a pattering of paws on the stone floor accompanying the spotted hound. It sniffed the air towards Fran's honey-laden foot eagerly, only for Drace to shush it back. "Oh, who's a good boy. Yes, you're a good boy, aren't you?" she teased.
One eye on Viera's face, still focused in rapt horror on the dog, she rolled the honey-stick all over her goop-covered foot again. "There, that's better." The hume smiled at the dog, "poor thing's not been fed today." She started whistling as she pointed to the vulnerable foot. "Eat!" Viera screamed as the hound bounded forward, tongue wagging. It lapped up the syrup hungrily, tongue wriggling up and over her struggling sole and slopping over her toes. Drace joined in the chorus of laughter, adding to it in a crescendo as she began to gently scratch the feather's tip along the exposed maidenhood of the long-eared female, her free hand viciously scrabbling along the sole of her victim's right sole. The feather rarely strayed from its lazy path, except for the gentle twirl it danced over Fran's inner thighs.
Eventually the judge whistled, and the dog sat back down on its haunches as she reached for the pot once more. "...yes, here we are," she cooed, slowly dribbling the honey again over both feet this time. "That's better, much better." She put the jar back again, this time reaching into her dress and pulling out a small length of bronze chain-links, each one appended by a screw-tightened grip. She hummed as she fixed each grip to Fran's taut nipples, screwing them shut with a look of relish on her face. "Did you know that my darling little boy there, he's got his own bitch?" she said in a weirdly normal voice. Fran couldn't stand it. What did the crazed woman want? She'd already made the offer she'd sworn she never would; to give up Balthier to her, and Drace had turned her down. She didn't even hear what Drace had said until the second dog bounded in, and the hume whistled for them to both attack the syrup feast before them.
The woman cradled the pot to her chest as she basked in the panicked aura and screamed pleas for mercy of the Viera outcast. Oh, this was just perfect. She was crowing inside at the fact that she, Judge Drace, had done what many thought impossible; she'd broken a Viera warrior. Too caught up in the moment, she chanced to lower her head down to the sweet sight of the dark maidenhood she'd already tormented with the feather and slurped away at the special 'honey' she was interested in. Eventually she stopped, whistling a second time for the dogs to pause, and slowly slathered the last few drabs of the now cold honey over Fran's underarms, slicked it around the tight nipple-clamps, and dribbled the last drops over the quivering womanhood she'd been feeding herself off, and coating the last dollop around the Viera's exposed ass.
She whistled once more, and Fran could only stare in horror as she heard the sound of more paws pattering on the stone slabs towards her. "Aren't they cute? A full litter, my boy and his bitch have had. Here, we start training them young to respond to commands." She called out a name and the smallest one, the only one with a collar and leash, trotted forward smartly. If Fran wasn't stuck in the situation she was now, she'd think it almost adorable herself, but she bucked madly as she felt Drace lift the puppy up and plopped it onto her chest. "Aww, he's hungry, isn't he?" The hume smiled as she gently rubbed his cold, wet, nose into the honey atop her maidenhood. "You like that, don't you little one?" She grinned again as she wrapped the leash around the free chain-links of the nipple-clamps and the puppy started forward again, rubbing his nose in it more as the clamps were pulled tight. Drace was busy lifting the other four puppies onto the bed, and each one had its nose rubbed into the honey somewhere as their parents padded forward silently to copy their litter on the Viera's arched feet.
"Do you know the best thing about this, Fran? When he's done licking all this away, what's he going to hunger for?"
Her captive began to beg now, "Drace, no! Please! It hurts already." She could tell it wasn't working on the madly cheerful judge. "Wait, wait! Look, you've done it! You've broken me, I admit it. I'm so-sorry!," the puppy strained forward again, "please, just let me go." She could only imagine what would happen as he struggled forward to lick away at the coating on the centre of her exposed bottom. The hume tutted. "Oh Fran, you don't see. This isn't about me breaking you." She laughed, a silky sound that made such a pleasant change to the incessant giggling of earlier. "This is humiliation." She whistled for the final time, and the dogs began to eat away at the vulnerable platter before them.
