Eucatastrophist
Registered User
- Joined
- Oct 6, 2025
- Messages
- 24
- Points
- 13
A continuation of a commission I received. Here is a link to the first part of the story (Scenes 1-4):
Tickling | Bondage | Hypnosis | Tentacle Monster | Forced Orgasm
Marion Lavorre lay on something smooth and warm. When she opened her eyes, the sky above her was the color of umber ash. She tried to push herself upright, and the world tilted. She collapsed back to the ground, still dizzy from being ripped through one dimension into another.
Slowly, the memories started to return. Fractured, humiliating, and burning into her mind.
Velouria, she thought.
The name alone made her skin prickle with phantom sensations she didn't want to remember. The succubus had appeared in her private chambers days ago, and had subjected her to bizarre and mind-bending torments.
"Such grace and poise," Velouria had teasingly whispered, her fingers dancing across Marion's ribs while the tiefling thrashed against silken bondage. "Such dignity. I wonder... how long until I find what's underneath?"
Marion pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to force the memories back. She could still feel it: the ghost of Velouria's touch, the way the succubus had found every sensitive spot on her body with infernal potency. The tickling had been relentless, maddening, designed to strip away every layer of the Ruby of the Sea's famous poise.
But worse than the tickling had been the enchantments. Even now, sitting in this alien landscape, Marion felt the pull of those commands. Her thoughts kept wanting to drift, to soften, to sink into that warm, pink haze Velouria had spent hours cultivating in her mind. She shook her head sharply, her ruby-red curls swaying with the motion.
"No," she said aloud, her voice rougher than usual. "I am Marion Lavorre. I am myself."
She repeated the words like a mantra as she took stock of her surroundings. The ground beneath her was a vast, flat expanse of what appeared to be fine sand - smooth and dark, but radiating heat rather. The brackish sky stretched in all directions, punctuated by distant clouds that moved in strange patterns. There was no sun, yet light came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
The Abyss? No... the air would be thicker, more oppressive. One of the Hells? Unlikely, given the absence of fire and screaming.
A demiplane, she realized. Someone's private domain.
That was... significantly worse.
Marion stood, wincing at the protest from muscles that had spent too long bound in uncomfortable positions. Her blue gown - her favorite, the one that contrasted with her skin and hair - was torn at the shoulder and stained in ways she refused to examine closely. She smoothed the fabric with trembling fingers, drawing what dignity she could from the familiar motion.
She was the Ruby of the Sea. She had entertained nobles, merchants, and monsters. She had survived decades in a profession that chewed up the unwary and spat out their bones. She had raised a daughter who saved the world. She could survive this.
Just need to find a way out. There's always a way out.
Marion began walking, choosing a direction at random. The obsidian plain seemed to stretch infinitely, but she'd barely taken twenty steps before she noticed the change in the air. A heaviness, a presence that made the fine hairs on her arms stand upright.
"Show yourself," she called, pleased that her voice didn't shake. "I am in no mood for games."
Something in the darkness laughed.
It was a sound like oil bubbling, but somehow also like waves crashing against a cliff. Something gathered itself from underneath the sand, rising in a column of writhing black that slowly gained definition.
Tentacles. Dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, each one covered in what looked like fine, feathery cilia that rippled in nonexistent wind. They surrounded a central mass that was only vaguely defined, amidst which she could see a multitude of glimmering eyes.
"No mood for games?" The being retorted, its voice rolling through the air. "Oh, that's unfortunate. Games are all I do."
Marion held her ground, though every instinct screamed at her to run.
"What are you?" she demanded.
"Curious choice," the creature said. "Not 'who...' but 'what.' Most mortals ask who I am. It's the 'what' that frightens them more. I am Xith'thalox. What I am... is a collector. An artist. A connoisseur of giggles and squeals and that delicious moment when a rigidly maintained facade cracks."
The Ruby felt her blood chill.
"You're a demon."
"Such a reductive term." Xith'thalox's tentacles rippled with what might have been offense. "I prefer 'specialist.' And you, my dear crimson confection, are the gift Velouria promised me."
Marion's hands flared with arcane light. It was a simple spell, but one that had stopped thieves and overeager patrons alike. "I am no one's gift."
"Mmm, that's what makes you so appealing." The demon's voice dropped to what sounded like a disgusting approximation of a purr. "Velouria's been playing with you for days, hasn't she? I can smell it on you: the residue of her influence, the way your mind keeps wanting to drift into that lovely pink obedience she planted. She's done the hard work of tilling the soil. Now she's sent you to me for... cultivation."
Marion released her spell. A bolt of pure force screamed across the space between them, brilliant and hot, striking the demon's central mass dead-on.
Xith'thalox didn't even flinch.
"Oh, delightful," the demon cooed. "Please, do that again. It tingles."
Marion fired two more bolts in rapid succession, then followed with a wave of chilling cold that should have frozen anything in its path solid. The magic struck true each time, and each time, the demon simply absorbed it with a sound like a satisfied sigh.
"Your magic is charming my dear, but about as threatening as a kitten batting at my tentacles. Speaking of which..."
The tentacles moved. Marion turned to run, but they were faster than anything so large had any right to be. One wrapped around her ankle before she'd taken two steps, yanking her off her feet. She hit the sand with a grunt, immediately twisting to fire another spell... but three more tentacles seized her wrists and remaining leg, spreading her supple limbs wide.
"Let me go!" She thrashed, bucked, threw every scrap of magical energy she had at the creature. None of it mattered. The tentacles held her as easily as she might hold a struggling butterfly, the eyes twinkling brightly as they enjoyed watching her breasts bounce as she struggled.
"Not yet," Xith'thalox said. "Not until we've gotten to know each other much better."
The demon's mass drifted closer, and Marion could see those feathery cilia on the tentacles more clearly now - thousands upon thousands of delicate fronds that undulated constantly, promising sensations she desperately didn't want to imagine.
"Velouria told me about you," the demon continued. "The Ruby of the Sea. The most poised, composed, dignified woman in all of Wildemount. A century of maintaining perfect control over every situation, every interaction, every inch of that beautiful body."
The tentacles adjusted their grip, lifting Marion off the ground until she hung suspended in the demon's embrace.
"She said you barely broke after three days of her attention. That when she finally made you beg, you were still trying to negotiate the terms."
Despite her terror, Marion felt a flicker of satisfaction at that. She had held out longer than Velouria expected. Even now, even here, she could cling to that.
"That kind of will..." Xith'thalox rumbled, "that kind of defiance... it's the rarest delicacy. Most mortals crack so easily. A few feathers under the arms, some attention to the ribs, and they're sobbing and promising anything. But you? You'll fight every giggle, every squirm, every precious sound I pull from that gorgeous throat."
"I'll do more than fight," Marion snarled. "When I get free-"
"Oh, there's the fire." The demon sounded genuinely pleased. "Keep that. Hold onto it. It makes everything so much more satisfying when it finally flickers out."
A smaller tentacle rose to hover inches from her face—its cilia rippled in a motion that was both disturbing and arousing.
"Now... shall we begin properly?"
---
The tentacles didn't attack immediately, and this somehow made everything worse.
Marion hung suspended in Xith'thalox's grip, her limbs spread wide, her heart hammering against her ribs. She expected the assault to begin at once: expected those horrifying feathery appendages to descend on every inch of exposed skin. Instead, the demon simply... watched.
"What are you waiting for?" Marion demanded, hating the tremor in her voice.
"Anticipation," Xith'thalox replied. "It's half the pleasure, don't you think? The knowledge that something is coming, the inability to stop it, the slow crawl of dread up your spine..." A tentacle traced lazily along the intact shoulder of her gown, not quite touching her skin. "Velouria rushes things. It's her nature - she feeds on lust, and lust is impatient. But I like to unwrap my presents slowly..."
The tentacle moved to her collar, to the tiny pearl buttons that ran down the front of her bodice.
"No." Marion twisted uselessly. "Don't-!"
"Shh." The single sound was surprisingly gentle. "I'm going to take my time with you, Ruby. Every button. Every inch of fabric. We're going to do this properly, because proper things done properly produce the most exquisite results."
One cilia-covered tentacle tip hooked beneath the top button. The tiny piece of pearl came free with a soft pop.
"There," Xith'thalox murmured. "One down. How many more, do you think? I'm going to count them with you."
Marion clenched her jaw and refused to answer.
The buttons continued to part, one by one, with agonizing slowness. Each tiny pop seemed to echo in the strange space of the demiplane. Marion tried to focus on anything else: counting the demon's eyes, analyzing the sandy floor, calculating escape routes.
"You're thinking very hard," Xith'thalox observed. "Trying to distract yourself. I appreciate the effort, truly. It makes this moment..." the final button released, and Marion's bodice fell open, exposing her undergarments. "...so much sweeter."
The demon's many eyes seemed to drink in the sight of her.
"Lovely," Xith'thalox breathed. "Now. Let's see what else you're hiding."
More tentacles joined the first, working at the laces of her stays with surprisingly delicate movements. The feathery cilia brushed lightly against her sides as they worked, and Marion jerked involuntarily at each touch.
The stays loosened, then fell away entirely, and Marion felt cool air against skin that suddenly seemed too sensitive to bear. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, her dark nipples already hardening from the strange atmosphere of the demiplane.
"Beautiful," Xith'thalox said, and the word held genuine admiration. "Like ruby and garnet. I'm going to spend hours on these, you know. The nipples of tieflings are notoriously responsive - something about your infernal heritage makes them exquisitely sensitive."
A tentacle hovered over her left breast, cilia rippling. She cringed involuntarily, prepared for the assault... but it didn't come.
"But not yet," Xith'thalox teased, the tentacles moving away. "We have the rest of you to unwrap, first."
The gown came next, its torn fabric parting easily under the demon's attention. The skirts fell away in pieces, leaving Marion in only her panties - a tiny scrap of purple silk that covered nothing and protected less.
The tentacles hooked under the waistband.
"May I?" it asked.
"Does it matter if I say no?" Marion's voice cracked on the last word.
"Not in the slightest. But I do enjoy asking." The silk tore away with barely a sound. "There. Now I can see all of you."
Marion had been naked countless times before. Her profession demanded comfort with the body, an ease with exposure that most could never achieve. But this was different. Hanging spread-eagle in the grip of a demon's tentacles, stripped slowly and deliberately, her most intimate places exposed to countless unblinking eyes... this stripped away more than clothing.
"You're trembling," Xith'thalox observed. "Not from cold... it's quite warm here, I make sure of that. No, you're trembling because you're anticipating. You know what's coming, and your body knows how much it will affect you, and you can't do anything but wait."
"Just-" Marion's voice broke. "Just do it already."
"Ah, but where's the art in that?" A tentacle traced along the arch of her suspended foot. Not tickling yet, just touching, just promising. "Your feet, I think, to start. They look so soft. So delicate."
The cilia rippled against her sole, feather-light. Her entire leg jerked in response.
"I can see the tension in your arches," the demon continued. "The way your toes want to curl. You know how ticklish you are there... and now you're hanging here, completely helpless, while I tell you exactly what I'm going to do." The tentacle made one slow pass across her sole. "I'm going to tickle these precious feet until you can't form words anymore. Until that prissy facade crumbles into the most undignified squealing you've ever produced."
Marion opened her mouth to deliver a cutting retort - she still had her voice, her wit, the acid tongue that had deflected a thousand unwanted advances. But before she could speak, the tentacles landed on her foot.
They worked across both feet simultaneously, their cilia exploring with methodical precision. Each tiny frond seemed to have a mind of its own, finding the spaces between her toes, the arch, the spot where heel met sole, the patch of skin just beneath the ball of her foot that made Marion's entire leg spasm.
"S-stop~" The word dissolved into a strangled giggle.
"Interesting," the demon mused, as if taking notes. "The arch produces jerks. The toes produce squirms. But this spot... this spot makes you squeak."
A tentacle focused it's attention on a particularly devastating patch of skin along her arch, and Marion bit her lip hard.
The laughter was building in her chest, pressure that demanded release. She would NOT give this creature the satisfaction, she resolved. But then the tentacles changed rhythm. Instead of coordinated passes, they began a chaotic dance, some stroking slowly while others flickered rapid-fire, some tracing spirals while others drew straight lines. There was no pattern to adapt to, no respite to prepare for. Just endless, maddening, unpredictable sensation.
"Pfff-! hahaha!" The first real laugh burst free before Marion could stop it. "Stop, hehe - STOP~!"
"There we are." Xith'thalox hummed with satisfaction. "The first cracks in the Ruby's poise. How does it feel, I wonder? To lose control of your own voice? Your own body? To be reduced to helpless giggles by something as simple as this?"
Marion thrashed and twisted, but the restraining tentacles held her perfectly in place. Her feet remained spread and vulnerable, presenting every inch of their sensitive surfaces to the demon's attention.
"Y-youhoohoo b-bastahard! HaHAHA!"
"Still fighting," Xith'thalox observed. "Still trying to form insults between giggles. I do admire your tenacity."
The tentacles shifted, concentrating suddenly on just her toes: sliding between them, curling around them, tickling the webbing and the pads.
"Let's see if we can fix that."
The sensation was indescribable. Marion's toes had always been sensitive, she'd discovered it as a young woman and carefully avoided letting anyone near them ever since. Now dozens of feathery cilia explored every millimeter as if they had all the time in the world, finding sensitivities she didn't know she had.
"AHAHAHAHAHA!" The laugh exploded from her, high and wild and completely out of her control. "PLEHEHEASE!!!!"
"Please what? Please stop?" The tentacles didn't slow. "Please continue? You're being very unclear, darling."
"STOP-! STAHAHAP, I CAN'T~!"
"Can't what? Laugh? But you are, quite beautifully. Can't breathe? You're breathing fine, I made sure of it." The demon's voice dropped to something approaching tenderness. "Can't take it? Oh, Ruby. We've barely started."
Time became meaningless. There was nothing but the tickling: the maddening, endless stimulation that reduced every thought to static and every protest to laughter. Marion dissolved into desperate, hysterical giggling that echoed through the demiplane.
She didn't notice when she started crying, the tears streaming down her crimson cheeks as her body convulsed in Xith'thalox's grip. Her sophisticated vocabulary devolved into wordless pleas, then pure sound, then just laughter and sobbing and the occasional hiccup.
"Beautiful," the demon murmured. "Absolutely beautiful. The Ruby of the Sea, reduced to helpless, weeping, laughing ruins. And we haven't even touched the interesting parts yet."
Through the haze of overwhelming sensation, Marion registered that the demon was right. Nothing had touched her above the ankles. This was just her feet. If this was what the demon could do to her feet, what would happen when it moved to...
The thought cut off as something else happened. A different kind of pressure, building between her legs, and suddenly Marion realized with dawning horror that her bladder was full and had been for some time and the tickling was making every muscle in her body clench and release in waves...
"No-" she gasped between laughs. "No no no-ahahaha, I can't~!"
"Hmm?" Xith'thalox sounded genuinely curious, but the tentacles didn't pause for even a moment. "Oh. Oh, I see. You need to relieve yourself." "How terribly undignified. The Ruby of the Sea, about to wet herself like a child."
"PLEASE!" Marion's voice cracked. "Please I can't, you have to stop, I'm going to-"
"You're going to what? Go ahead. Say it."
"I'M GOING TO AHAHAHAHA! PEE! PLEASE-!!!"
"If you don't like being tickled," the demon said, its voice dropping to a whisper that cut through her desperate laughter, "then why are you laughing?"
The tentacles attacked her arches with renewed vigor, and Marion's resistance crumbled.
The release was explosive and humiliating and sent a fresh wave of sensation crashing through her overstimulated body. She heard herself sobbing, laughing, apologizing. The words blended together into incoherent babble as hot liquid streamed down her legs and pooled on the sand below.
"That's my little pee-pee girl," Xith'thalox teased with a wheezing, rippling laugh.
Marion couldn't respond. She could only hang in the demon's grip, laughing and crying and shaking, as the tentacles finally, finally slowed their assault on her devastated feet.
"Feeling better?" Xith'thalox asked.
"F-fuck you," Marion managed.
"Still some fire left. Wonderful." The demon's many eyes shifted, examining her naked form with renewed interest. "I was worried you'd go too quickly. Velouria's toys often do. She softens them up with lust and hypnosis until there's barely anything left to break. But you... you've still got walls to knock down."
New tentacles rose from the demon's mass, thinner than before, their cilia more delicate. They drifted toward Marion's torso with lazy grace.
"Your ribs," Xith'thalox mused. "The classic. I've tickled beings from a thousand worlds, and the ribs are always effective. Something about the architecture, the exposed nerves, the way the bone creates such resonance..."
The tentacles hovered over her sides for a few moments, wiggling threateningly.
"But I think we'll save those. Build to them properly."
Instead, the tentacles moved higher.
Marion understood where they were going a moment before they arrived, and she felt her nipples engorge in anticipation despite her best efforts.
"Your breasts," the demon said, "are magnificent. Have I mentioned that? The weight, the shape, the way they heave when you laugh..." A tentacle circled her left breast without touching it, trailing sensation in its wake. "And the nipples... oh, those gorgeous, dark, sensitive nipples."
"Don't-"
"Don't what? Touch them? Tease them? Make you feel things you don't want to feel?" The tentacle feathered lightly across her areola. "Too late, darling. I'm going to make you feel everything."
The first touch to her nipple was so delicate Marion almost didn't register it, it was just a whisper of cilia against the sensitive bud. But once her body registered it, it sent signals flooding through her nervous system that mixed pleasure and torment in equal measure.
"Oh~," she gasped.
"That's what I was hoping for," Xith'thalox hummed, sounding deeply pleased. More tentacles joined the first, surrounding both breasts now, their feathery tips tracing patterns across her flesh. "You've used these to bring pleasure for decades, haven't you? Let men worship them with hands and mouths and other things. But this is different, isn't it?"
The cilia found her nipples properly, not tickling so much as teasing, flicking across the hardened peaks with movements too light to satisfy but too persistent to ignore. Marion's hips bucked involuntarily, desperate for more.
"S-stop-!"
"Wrong word." A tentacle coiled around her breast, squeezing gently while its tip worked her nipple into ecstasy. "The word you want is 'more,' but you're too proud to say it. You're too proud to admit that this feels good, that your body is responding, that underneath all that dignity is a woman who wants."
"I don't... ohhh... ahh~!"
"Don't lie to me, Ruby." The demon's voice darkened, but there was a hunger there as well. "I can see every inch of you, remember. I can see how flushed your skin is getting. I can see the way your thighs are pressing together. I can smell your arousal mixing with the mess you made earlier."
Marion wanted to deny it. She wanted to summon the words that had served her so well over the years, the quick wit and cutting observations that deflected unwanted attention. But her tongue felt thick and clumsy, and every thought drifted away when the tentacles intensified their attention on her breasts.
"That's it," Xith'thalox murmured. "Let yourself feel it. The tickle and the pleasure and that wonderful confusion when they start to blend together."
A tentacle found her other nipple, and now both were being tormented with those impossible, feather-light touches.
"You're getting close to something, aren't you?"
She was. Gods help her, she was. The stimulation was nothing like what she usually needed: too light, too scattered, too teasing... but somehow that made it worse, and more potent. Her body strained toward a release it couldn't quite reach, kept perpetually on the edge by sensation that was never quite enough.
"Please..." The word slipped out before she could stop it.
"Please what?"
"I don't... I can't..." Marion's voice broke into a moan. "More. Less. I don't know!"
A tentacle traced along her inner thigh, its cilia brushing tormentingly close to where she ached without ever quite arriving. Other tentacles continued their assault on her breasts, and the combined sensation left her writhing.
"So wet," Xith'thalox observed. "After everything - the tickling, the crying, the utter loss of dignity... you're dripping for me. How does that make you feel?"
"I hate you," Marion gasped.
"Do you? Or do you hate how your body is responding to me?" A tentacle finally, finally made contact with her folds, sliding between them with devastating slowness. "Do you hate how good this feels despite everything? How much you want even though you know you shouldn't?"
The cilia found her clit, and the sensation was beyond comprehension. A thousand tiny fronds flickering across the most sensitive part of her body, each touch too light to satisfy but together building toward something catastrophic. Marion heard herself moaning, heard herself begging, heard words spilling from her mouth that the Ruby of the Sea would never have deigned to speak.
"That's it," the demon crooned. "Let go. You've held on so tight for so long... just let go."
"I-I can't... I can't-"
"If you don't like it," Xith'thalox asked, "then why are you moaning?"
The pressure increased just enough, and Marion screamed. The orgasm finally hit, and her entire body convulsed in the demon's grip as pleasure crashed through her, pleasure she hadn't asked for, hadn't wanted, hadn't been able to prevent. The tentacles didn't stop, didn't even slow, and she realized with dawning horror that the demon was going to push her through this climax and into another one without pause.
"One," Xith'thalox counted. "Let's see how many we can reach before you lose count entirely."
---
Marion lost count after seven - the orgasms had begun to blur together, peaks and valleys of sensation that left her barely conscious, her voice reduced to a hoarse whisper, her body limp and unresponsive in the demon's grip.
"You're stronger than most," the demon remarked. "Velouria wasn't exaggerating. I've broken beings in half the time - had them sobbing their devotion, promising anything, becoming anything I wanted. But you're still here, aren't you? Still fighting somewhere in that beautiful mind."
Marion's throat worked, but no sound came out. She tried to form words of defiance, threats, anything to prove she hadn't been completely destroyed, but her tongue wouldn't cooperate.
"No clever retorts? That's disappointing." The demon drifted closer, its countless eyes examining her with unsettling intensity. "I do so enjoy our conversations. The way you insult me even while you're laughing. The fury in your eyes even while you're cumming. It adds... dimensionality to our little game."
A tentacle lifted her chin, forcing her to meet the demon's gaze.
"So I'm going to offer you something I rarely offer my guests," Xith'thalox continued. "A chance. A challenge. A tiny, flickering hope that you might - might - escape with some shred of dignity intact."
Marion's eyes widened.
"Interested?" The demon's voice curled with amusement. "I thought you might be. Here's my offer: I'm going to tickle you. Just tickle - no pleasure, no humiliation beyond the laughter. And if you can keep your arms raised above your head until the sand in this hourglass runs out..."
A tentacle produced an hourglass from somewhere, its chambers filled with glittering gold sand.
"...I'll let you go. Send you back to Wildemount, memories intact, no worse for wear than when you arrived."
"And if..." Marion's voice was barely audible. "If I fail?"
"Then you belong to me until I've had my fill." The demon's eyes gleamed. "However long that takes. However far I need to go. And when I'm done, I'll send you back to Velouria as the obedient little servant she always wanted you to be."
Marion stared at the hourglass. The sand seemed to measure about three minutes - three minutes of keeping her arms up while being tickled. It sounded simple. It sounded achievable. It sounded like the only hope she had.
"Deal," she whispered.
"Excellent." Xith'thalox's tentacles rearranged themselves, lowering Marion until her bare feet touched the warm sand.
Marion stretched her arms above her head. Her body was exhausted, wrung out, sensitized beyond belief. But she had survived enough threats and seductions and the occasional kidnapping. She could do this.
She had to do this.
"Ready?" Xith'thalox asked.
"Yes."
The demon flipped the hourglass, and the gold sand began to fall. The tentacles started on her armpits. It was a cruel opening move: Marion's arms, stretched above her head, exposed the hollows completely, and her armpits had always been among her most ticklish spots. The feathery cilia found every nerve ending with unerring precision, and Marion's face contorted immediately.
"Already struggling?" Xith'thalox observed. "The sand has barely started moving."
Marion gritted her teeth, her lips pressed together so hard they went white. Her arms trembled but stayed up - she would NOT let them fall, would NOT give this demon the satisfaction.
The tentacles intensified.
Her face went through a rapid series of expressions: scrunched eyes, bitten lips, a grimace that showed all her teeth, a sort of desperate smile that was somehow worse than laughter. Her shoulders shook. Her hands clenched into fists above her head.
"You're turning the most fascinating shade of purple," the demon noted. "I didn't think tieflings could do that. Are you breathing? You really should breathe."
A sharp exhale burst from Marion's nose as the tentacles dropped from her armpit to her ribcage.
"Still holding. I'm impressed." The tentacles shifted, some moving down to her ribs while others continued their assault on her arms.
The ribs were somehow worse. There was something about the sensitivity of the exposed bone, the way sensation lanced through the chest cavity, that made every touch feel amplified. Marion's body twisted and jerked, but her arms stayed up - albeit shaking badly now, fingers splayed and clawing at the air.
She glanced at the hourglass. Perhaps a quarter of the sand had fallen.
I can do this, she told herself. *I've survived worse. I've survived Velouria. I can survive three minutes.
Marion's face contorted into an expression that would have horrified her if she could see it: lips pulled back in a chaotic grimace, cheeks bulging, eyes squeezed shut so tight they watered. She was making sounds now, little huffing gasps that were trying desperately to become laughter.
"Mmmph-! hnnn... pfff~!"
"The sounds you're making," Xith'thalox said, "are absolutely adorable. Like a tea kettle trying not to whistle."
The tentacles dropped to her hips, and Marion's legs began to tremble. Only her raised arms, still held above her head through sheer desperate willpower, kept her partially upright.
Half the sand had fallen. Half remained.
"Getting tired?" the demon asked. "Arms getting heavy? You've been through so much today, haven't you? Orgasms and tickling and all that crying. It would be so easy to just... let go. Let your arms fall. Give in to the laughter that's building inside you."
Marion's arms shook like leaves in a storm. Every muscle screamed for release.
"Mmmmmm - MMMM!!!"
"Just a little laugh," Xith'thalox coaxed. "One tiny giggle. You've earned it. You've been so good, Ruby, holding on so tight. Don't you want to let some of that pressure out?"
Her left arm dipped. Just an inch. Then jerked back up.
"Getting harder now." The tentacles focused on her sides in long, slow strokes that traced from hip to armpit and back again. "The muscles are burning. The sensation is overwhelming. And you know... you know... that even if you win this challenge, I'll send you back to Velouria. You'll never really escape. So why fight so hard?"
The words struck a nerve. The demon was right - even if she won, Velouria was waiting. The succubus who had already started reshaping Marion's mind, who had already planted commands that she was still fighting to resist.
Maybe it would be easier to just...
"No!" she shouted. The tentacles attacked in force.
Every sensitive spot Marion possessed was suddenly under assault - armpits, ribs, hips, belly, back. She screamed, and the sound that emerged was a strangled howl that immediately collapsed into laughter.
Her arms dropped.
She didn't even realize she'd done it until she felt her hands slap against her sides, felt her body curl into itself, felt the challenge end.
"Oh, Ruby." Xith'thalox's voice dripped with satisfaction. "So close. Five more seconds and you would have been free."
Marion collapsed to the sand, laughing and sobbing, barely able to breathe. She'd lost. She'd lost by seconds, and now...
"Now you're mine," the demon finished her thought. "For as long as I want. And I'm going to want for a very, very long time."
---
Time ceased to have meaning.
In Xith'thalox's demiplane, where no sun rose or set, where the bruise-purple sky never changed, where the only markers of passing hours were exhaustion and desperate recovery periods, Marion's world narrowed to simple, devastating elements: tickling, pleasure, and the slow dissolution of everything she had been.
The demon was endlessly creative, and Marion was slowly conditioned through an endless cycle of punishment and reward.
The acceptance came in stages. First, Marion stopped fighting the laughter. There was no point - the tickling would produce it regardless of her wishes, so she let it flow through her without resistance. This seemed to please the demon, who rewarded her with gentler sessions, with more pleasure mixed into the torment.
Then she stopped trying to hold back orgasms. They were inevitable, so why struggle? Her body would respond as it would, and if the demon wanted to make her come a dozen times in a row, she would accept it. Float on the waves of sensation. Let herself go.
Finally, she stopped thinking of escape. This happened gradually: one moment she was mentally cataloging every feature of the demiplane, searching for weaknesses, the next, she was merely... existing. Waiting for the next session. Anticipating the touch of tentacles with something that might have been eagerness.
"There she is," Xith'thalox said, watching her with countless eyes. "The real Marion. Not the Ruby of the Sea, that mask you wore for so long. Not even the defiant prisoner who cursed me and fought every step. This is what was always underneath - a woman who craves to surrender, who needs to be overwhelmed, who has been waiting her whole life to let someone else take control."
"Yes," Marion whispered, and the word felt like truth.
The demon bred her, too: that was the part Marion remembered most clearly, even when other memories began to blur. Tentacles inside her that were thick, ridged, and impossibly deep, fucking her while other tentacles tickled and teased and pushed her toward climaxes that threatened to break something fundamental in her mind. The demon filled her over and over, and with each release came whispered words that sank into her consciousness.
The words became truth because Marion let them become truth. Because it was easier. Because the demon had shown her how much simpler life could be when she stopped fighting, stopped thinking, stopped being anything but a vessel for sensation and service.
Her being crystallized over time around this new identity, her old thoughts and opinions and memories dissolved, to be replaced with one singular mantra: service.
---
One day, the portal opened. Marion lay on the warm sand, content and empty. But then the next thing she knew, she was tumbling back through dimensions, reality spiraling and twisting around her until she landed on a familiar surface - her own silk sheets.
She was back in her chambers. And Velouria was standing over her.
Tickling | Bondage | Hypnosis | Tentacle Monster | Forced Orgasm
Marion Lavorre lay on something smooth and warm. When she opened her eyes, the sky above her was the color of umber ash. She tried to push herself upright, and the world tilted. She collapsed back to the ground, still dizzy from being ripped through one dimension into another.
Slowly, the memories started to return. Fractured, humiliating, and burning into her mind.
Velouria, she thought.
The name alone made her skin prickle with phantom sensations she didn't want to remember. The succubus had appeared in her private chambers days ago, and had subjected her to bizarre and mind-bending torments.
"Such grace and poise," Velouria had teasingly whispered, her fingers dancing across Marion's ribs while the tiefling thrashed against silken bondage. "Such dignity. I wonder... how long until I find what's underneath?"
Marion pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying to force the memories back. She could still feel it: the ghost of Velouria's touch, the way the succubus had found every sensitive spot on her body with infernal potency. The tickling had been relentless, maddening, designed to strip away every layer of the Ruby of the Sea's famous poise.
But worse than the tickling had been the enchantments. Even now, sitting in this alien landscape, Marion felt the pull of those commands. Her thoughts kept wanting to drift, to soften, to sink into that warm, pink haze Velouria had spent hours cultivating in her mind. She shook her head sharply, her ruby-red curls swaying with the motion.
"No," she said aloud, her voice rougher than usual. "I am Marion Lavorre. I am myself."
She repeated the words like a mantra as she took stock of her surroundings. The ground beneath her was a vast, flat expanse of what appeared to be fine sand - smooth and dark, but radiating heat rather. The brackish sky stretched in all directions, punctuated by distant clouds that moved in strange patterns. There was no sun, yet light came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
The Abyss? No... the air would be thicker, more oppressive. One of the Hells? Unlikely, given the absence of fire and screaming.
A demiplane, she realized. Someone's private domain.
That was... significantly worse.
Marion stood, wincing at the protest from muscles that had spent too long bound in uncomfortable positions. Her blue gown - her favorite, the one that contrasted with her skin and hair - was torn at the shoulder and stained in ways she refused to examine closely. She smoothed the fabric with trembling fingers, drawing what dignity she could from the familiar motion.
She was the Ruby of the Sea. She had entertained nobles, merchants, and monsters. She had survived decades in a profession that chewed up the unwary and spat out their bones. She had raised a daughter who saved the world. She could survive this.
Just need to find a way out. There's always a way out.
Marion began walking, choosing a direction at random. The obsidian plain seemed to stretch infinitely, but she'd barely taken twenty steps before she noticed the change in the air. A heaviness, a presence that made the fine hairs on her arms stand upright.
"Show yourself," she called, pleased that her voice didn't shake. "I am in no mood for games."
Something in the darkness laughed.
It was a sound like oil bubbling, but somehow also like waves crashing against a cliff. Something gathered itself from underneath the sand, rising in a column of writhing black that slowly gained definition.
Tentacles. Dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, each one covered in what looked like fine, feathery cilia that rippled in nonexistent wind. They surrounded a central mass that was only vaguely defined, amidst which she could see a multitude of glimmering eyes.
"No mood for games?" The being retorted, its voice rolling through the air. "Oh, that's unfortunate. Games are all I do."
Marion held her ground, though every instinct screamed at her to run.
"What are you?" she demanded.
"Curious choice," the creature said. "Not 'who...' but 'what.' Most mortals ask who I am. It's the 'what' that frightens them more. I am Xith'thalox. What I am... is a collector. An artist. A connoisseur of giggles and squeals and that delicious moment when a rigidly maintained facade cracks."
The Ruby felt her blood chill.
"You're a demon."
"Such a reductive term." Xith'thalox's tentacles rippled with what might have been offense. "I prefer 'specialist.' And you, my dear crimson confection, are the gift Velouria promised me."
Marion's hands flared with arcane light. It was a simple spell, but one that had stopped thieves and overeager patrons alike. "I am no one's gift."
"Mmm, that's what makes you so appealing." The demon's voice dropped to what sounded like a disgusting approximation of a purr. "Velouria's been playing with you for days, hasn't she? I can smell it on you: the residue of her influence, the way your mind keeps wanting to drift into that lovely pink obedience she planted. She's done the hard work of tilling the soil. Now she's sent you to me for... cultivation."
Marion released her spell. A bolt of pure force screamed across the space between them, brilliant and hot, striking the demon's central mass dead-on.
Xith'thalox didn't even flinch.
"Oh, delightful," the demon cooed. "Please, do that again. It tingles."
Marion fired two more bolts in rapid succession, then followed with a wave of chilling cold that should have frozen anything in its path solid. The magic struck true each time, and each time, the demon simply absorbed it with a sound like a satisfied sigh.
"Your magic is charming my dear, but about as threatening as a kitten batting at my tentacles. Speaking of which..."
The tentacles moved. Marion turned to run, but they were faster than anything so large had any right to be. One wrapped around her ankle before she'd taken two steps, yanking her off her feet. She hit the sand with a grunt, immediately twisting to fire another spell... but three more tentacles seized her wrists and remaining leg, spreading her supple limbs wide.
"Let me go!" She thrashed, bucked, threw every scrap of magical energy she had at the creature. None of it mattered. The tentacles held her as easily as she might hold a struggling butterfly, the eyes twinkling brightly as they enjoyed watching her breasts bounce as she struggled.
"Not yet," Xith'thalox said. "Not until we've gotten to know each other much better."
The demon's mass drifted closer, and Marion could see those feathery cilia on the tentacles more clearly now - thousands upon thousands of delicate fronds that undulated constantly, promising sensations she desperately didn't want to imagine.
"Velouria told me about you," the demon continued. "The Ruby of the Sea. The most poised, composed, dignified woman in all of Wildemount. A century of maintaining perfect control over every situation, every interaction, every inch of that beautiful body."
The tentacles adjusted their grip, lifting Marion off the ground until she hung suspended in the demon's embrace.
"She said you barely broke after three days of her attention. That when she finally made you beg, you were still trying to negotiate the terms."
Despite her terror, Marion felt a flicker of satisfaction at that. She had held out longer than Velouria expected. Even now, even here, she could cling to that.
"That kind of will..." Xith'thalox rumbled, "that kind of defiance... it's the rarest delicacy. Most mortals crack so easily. A few feathers under the arms, some attention to the ribs, and they're sobbing and promising anything. But you? You'll fight every giggle, every squirm, every precious sound I pull from that gorgeous throat."
"I'll do more than fight," Marion snarled. "When I get free-"
"Oh, there's the fire." The demon sounded genuinely pleased. "Keep that. Hold onto it. It makes everything so much more satisfying when it finally flickers out."
A smaller tentacle rose to hover inches from her face—its cilia rippled in a motion that was both disturbing and arousing.
"Now... shall we begin properly?"
---
The tentacles didn't attack immediately, and this somehow made everything worse.
Marion hung suspended in Xith'thalox's grip, her limbs spread wide, her heart hammering against her ribs. She expected the assault to begin at once: expected those horrifying feathery appendages to descend on every inch of exposed skin. Instead, the demon simply... watched.
"What are you waiting for?" Marion demanded, hating the tremor in her voice.
"Anticipation," Xith'thalox replied. "It's half the pleasure, don't you think? The knowledge that something is coming, the inability to stop it, the slow crawl of dread up your spine..." A tentacle traced lazily along the intact shoulder of her gown, not quite touching her skin. "Velouria rushes things. It's her nature - she feeds on lust, and lust is impatient. But I like to unwrap my presents slowly..."
The tentacle moved to her collar, to the tiny pearl buttons that ran down the front of her bodice.
"No." Marion twisted uselessly. "Don't-!"
"Shh." The single sound was surprisingly gentle. "I'm going to take my time with you, Ruby. Every button. Every inch of fabric. We're going to do this properly, because proper things done properly produce the most exquisite results."
One cilia-covered tentacle tip hooked beneath the top button. The tiny piece of pearl came free with a soft pop.
"There," Xith'thalox murmured. "One down. How many more, do you think? I'm going to count them with you."
Marion clenched her jaw and refused to answer.
The buttons continued to part, one by one, with agonizing slowness. Each tiny pop seemed to echo in the strange space of the demiplane. Marion tried to focus on anything else: counting the demon's eyes, analyzing the sandy floor, calculating escape routes.
"You're thinking very hard," Xith'thalox observed. "Trying to distract yourself. I appreciate the effort, truly. It makes this moment..." the final button released, and Marion's bodice fell open, exposing her undergarments. "...so much sweeter."
The demon's many eyes seemed to drink in the sight of her.
"Lovely," Xith'thalox breathed. "Now. Let's see what else you're hiding."
More tentacles joined the first, working at the laces of her stays with surprisingly delicate movements. The feathery cilia brushed lightly against her sides as they worked, and Marion jerked involuntarily at each touch.
The stays loosened, then fell away entirely, and Marion felt cool air against skin that suddenly seemed too sensitive to bear. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, her dark nipples already hardening from the strange atmosphere of the demiplane.
"Beautiful," Xith'thalox said, and the word held genuine admiration. "Like ruby and garnet. I'm going to spend hours on these, you know. The nipples of tieflings are notoriously responsive - something about your infernal heritage makes them exquisitely sensitive."
A tentacle hovered over her left breast, cilia rippling. She cringed involuntarily, prepared for the assault... but it didn't come.
"But not yet," Xith'thalox teased, the tentacles moving away. "We have the rest of you to unwrap, first."
The gown came next, its torn fabric parting easily under the demon's attention. The skirts fell away in pieces, leaving Marion in only her panties - a tiny scrap of purple silk that covered nothing and protected less.
The tentacles hooked under the waistband.
"May I?" it asked.
"Does it matter if I say no?" Marion's voice cracked on the last word.
"Not in the slightest. But I do enjoy asking." The silk tore away with barely a sound. "There. Now I can see all of you."
Marion had been naked countless times before. Her profession demanded comfort with the body, an ease with exposure that most could never achieve. But this was different. Hanging spread-eagle in the grip of a demon's tentacles, stripped slowly and deliberately, her most intimate places exposed to countless unblinking eyes... this stripped away more than clothing.
"You're trembling," Xith'thalox observed. "Not from cold... it's quite warm here, I make sure of that. No, you're trembling because you're anticipating. You know what's coming, and your body knows how much it will affect you, and you can't do anything but wait."
"Just-" Marion's voice broke. "Just do it already."
"Ah, but where's the art in that?" A tentacle traced along the arch of her suspended foot. Not tickling yet, just touching, just promising. "Your feet, I think, to start. They look so soft. So delicate."
The cilia rippled against her sole, feather-light. Her entire leg jerked in response.
"I can see the tension in your arches," the demon continued. "The way your toes want to curl. You know how ticklish you are there... and now you're hanging here, completely helpless, while I tell you exactly what I'm going to do." The tentacle made one slow pass across her sole. "I'm going to tickle these precious feet until you can't form words anymore. Until that prissy facade crumbles into the most undignified squealing you've ever produced."
Marion opened her mouth to deliver a cutting retort - she still had her voice, her wit, the acid tongue that had deflected a thousand unwanted advances. But before she could speak, the tentacles landed on her foot.
They worked across both feet simultaneously, their cilia exploring with methodical precision. Each tiny frond seemed to have a mind of its own, finding the spaces between her toes, the arch, the spot where heel met sole, the patch of skin just beneath the ball of her foot that made Marion's entire leg spasm.
"S-stop~" The word dissolved into a strangled giggle.
"Interesting," the demon mused, as if taking notes. "The arch produces jerks. The toes produce squirms. But this spot... this spot makes you squeak."
A tentacle focused it's attention on a particularly devastating patch of skin along her arch, and Marion bit her lip hard.
The laughter was building in her chest, pressure that demanded release. She would NOT give this creature the satisfaction, she resolved. But then the tentacles changed rhythm. Instead of coordinated passes, they began a chaotic dance, some stroking slowly while others flickered rapid-fire, some tracing spirals while others drew straight lines. There was no pattern to adapt to, no respite to prepare for. Just endless, maddening, unpredictable sensation.
"Pfff-! hahaha!" The first real laugh burst free before Marion could stop it. "Stop, hehe - STOP~!"
"There we are." Xith'thalox hummed with satisfaction. "The first cracks in the Ruby's poise. How does it feel, I wonder? To lose control of your own voice? Your own body? To be reduced to helpless giggles by something as simple as this?"
Marion thrashed and twisted, but the restraining tentacles held her perfectly in place. Her feet remained spread and vulnerable, presenting every inch of their sensitive surfaces to the demon's attention.
"Y-youhoohoo b-bastahard! HaHAHA!"
"Still fighting," Xith'thalox observed. "Still trying to form insults between giggles. I do admire your tenacity."
The tentacles shifted, concentrating suddenly on just her toes: sliding between them, curling around them, tickling the webbing and the pads.
"Let's see if we can fix that."
The sensation was indescribable. Marion's toes had always been sensitive, she'd discovered it as a young woman and carefully avoided letting anyone near them ever since. Now dozens of feathery cilia explored every millimeter as if they had all the time in the world, finding sensitivities she didn't know she had.
"AHAHAHAHAHA!" The laugh exploded from her, high and wild and completely out of her control. "PLEHEHEASE!!!!"
"Please what? Please stop?" The tentacles didn't slow. "Please continue? You're being very unclear, darling."
"STOP-! STAHAHAP, I CAN'T~!"
"Can't what? Laugh? But you are, quite beautifully. Can't breathe? You're breathing fine, I made sure of it." The demon's voice dropped to something approaching tenderness. "Can't take it? Oh, Ruby. We've barely started."
Time became meaningless. There was nothing but the tickling: the maddening, endless stimulation that reduced every thought to static and every protest to laughter. Marion dissolved into desperate, hysterical giggling that echoed through the demiplane.
She didn't notice when she started crying, the tears streaming down her crimson cheeks as her body convulsed in Xith'thalox's grip. Her sophisticated vocabulary devolved into wordless pleas, then pure sound, then just laughter and sobbing and the occasional hiccup.
"Beautiful," the demon murmured. "Absolutely beautiful. The Ruby of the Sea, reduced to helpless, weeping, laughing ruins. And we haven't even touched the interesting parts yet."
Through the haze of overwhelming sensation, Marion registered that the demon was right. Nothing had touched her above the ankles. This was just her feet. If this was what the demon could do to her feet, what would happen when it moved to...
The thought cut off as something else happened. A different kind of pressure, building between her legs, and suddenly Marion realized with dawning horror that her bladder was full and had been for some time and the tickling was making every muscle in her body clench and release in waves...
"No-" she gasped between laughs. "No no no-ahahaha, I can't~!"
"Hmm?" Xith'thalox sounded genuinely curious, but the tentacles didn't pause for even a moment. "Oh. Oh, I see. You need to relieve yourself." "How terribly undignified. The Ruby of the Sea, about to wet herself like a child."
"PLEASE!" Marion's voice cracked. "Please I can't, you have to stop, I'm going to-"
"You're going to what? Go ahead. Say it."
"I'M GOING TO AHAHAHAHA! PEE! PLEASE-!!!"
"If you don't like being tickled," the demon said, its voice dropping to a whisper that cut through her desperate laughter, "then why are you laughing?"
The tentacles attacked her arches with renewed vigor, and Marion's resistance crumbled.
The release was explosive and humiliating and sent a fresh wave of sensation crashing through her overstimulated body. She heard herself sobbing, laughing, apologizing. The words blended together into incoherent babble as hot liquid streamed down her legs and pooled on the sand below.
"That's my little pee-pee girl," Xith'thalox teased with a wheezing, rippling laugh.
Marion couldn't respond. She could only hang in the demon's grip, laughing and crying and shaking, as the tentacles finally, finally slowed their assault on her devastated feet.
"Feeling better?" Xith'thalox asked.
"F-fuck you," Marion managed.
"Still some fire left. Wonderful." The demon's many eyes shifted, examining her naked form with renewed interest. "I was worried you'd go too quickly. Velouria's toys often do. She softens them up with lust and hypnosis until there's barely anything left to break. But you... you've still got walls to knock down."
New tentacles rose from the demon's mass, thinner than before, their cilia more delicate. They drifted toward Marion's torso with lazy grace.
"Your ribs," Xith'thalox mused. "The classic. I've tickled beings from a thousand worlds, and the ribs are always effective. Something about the architecture, the exposed nerves, the way the bone creates such resonance..."
The tentacles hovered over her sides for a few moments, wiggling threateningly.
"But I think we'll save those. Build to them properly."
Instead, the tentacles moved higher.
Marion understood where they were going a moment before they arrived, and she felt her nipples engorge in anticipation despite her best efforts.
"Your breasts," the demon said, "are magnificent. Have I mentioned that? The weight, the shape, the way they heave when you laugh..." A tentacle circled her left breast without touching it, trailing sensation in its wake. "And the nipples... oh, those gorgeous, dark, sensitive nipples."
"Don't-"
"Don't what? Touch them? Tease them? Make you feel things you don't want to feel?" The tentacle feathered lightly across her areola. "Too late, darling. I'm going to make you feel everything."
The first touch to her nipple was so delicate Marion almost didn't register it, it was just a whisper of cilia against the sensitive bud. But once her body registered it, it sent signals flooding through her nervous system that mixed pleasure and torment in equal measure.
"Oh~," she gasped.
"That's what I was hoping for," Xith'thalox hummed, sounding deeply pleased. More tentacles joined the first, surrounding both breasts now, their feathery tips tracing patterns across her flesh. "You've used these to bring pleasure for decades, haven't you? Let men worship them with hands and mouths and other things. But this is different, isn't it?"
The cilia found her nipples properly, not tickling so much as teasing, flicking across the hardened peaks with movements too light to satisfy but too persistent to ignore. Marion's hips bucked involuntarily, desperate for more.
"S-stop-!"
"Wrong word." A tentacle coiled around her breast, squeezing gently while its tip worked her nipple into ecstasy. "The word you want is 'more,' but you're too proud to say it. You're too proud to admit that this feels good, that your body is responding, that underneath all that dignity is a woman who wants."
"I don't... ohhh... ahh~!"
"Don't lie to me, Ruby." The demon's voice darkened, but there was a hunger there as well. "I can see every inch of you, remember. I can see how flushed your skin is getting. I can see the way your thighs are pressing together. I can smell your arousal mixing with the mess you made earlier."
Marion wanted to deny it. She wanted to summon the words that had served her so well over the years, the quick wit and cutting observations that deflected unwanted attention. But her tongue felt thick and clumsy, and every thought drifted away when the tentacles intensified their attention on her breasts.
"That's it," Xith'thalox murmured. "Let yourself feel it. The tickle and the pleasure and that wonderful confusion when they start to blend together."
A tentacle found her other nipple, and now both were being tormented with those impossible, feather-light touches.
"You're getting close to something, aren't you?"
She was. Gods help her, she was. The stimulation was nothing like what she usually needed: too light, too scattered, too teasing... but somehow that made it worse, and more potent. Her body strained toward a release it couldn't quite reach, kept perpetually on the edge by sensation that was never quite enough.
"Please..." The word slipped out before she could stop it.
"Please what?"
"I don't... I can't..." Marion's voice broke into a moan. "More. Less. I don't know!"
A tentacle traced along her inner thigh, its cilia brushing tormentingly close to where she ached without ever quite arriving. Other tentacles continued their assault on her breasts, and the combined sensation left her writhing.
"So wet," Xith'thalox observed. "After everything - the tickling, the crying, the utter loss of dignity... you're dripping for me. How does that make you feel?"
"I hate you," Marion gasped.
"Do you? Or do you hate how your body is responding to me?" A tentacle finally, finally made contact with her folds, sliding between them with devastating slowness. "Do you hate how good this feels despite everything? How much you want even though you know you shouldn't?"
The cilia found her clit, and the sensation was beyond comprehension. A thousand tiny fronds flickering across the most sensitive part of her body, each touch too light to satisfy but together building toward something catastrophic. Marion heard herself moaning, heard herself begging, heard words spilling from her mouth that the Ruby of the Sea would never have deigned to speak.
"That's it," the demon crooned. "Let go. You've held on so tight for so long... just let go."
"I-I can't... I can't-"
"If you don't like it," Xith'thalox asked, "then why are you moaning?"
The pressure increased just enough, and Marion screamed. The orgasm finally hit, and her entire body convulsed in the demon's grip as pleasure crashed through her, pleasure she hadn't asked for, hadn't wanted, hadn't been able to prevent. The tentacles didn't stop, didn't even slow, and she realized with dawning horror that the demon was going to push her through this climax and into another one without pause.
"One," Xith'thalox counted. "Let's see how many we can reach before you lose count entirely."
---
Marion lost count after seven - the orgasms had begun to blur together, peaks and valleys of sensation that left her barely conscious, her voice reduced to a hoarse whisper, her body limp and unresponsive in the demon's grip.
"You're stronger than most," the demon remarked. "Velouria wasn't exaggerating. I've broken beings in half the time - had them sobbing their devotion, promising anything, becoming anything I wanted. But you're still here, aren't you? Still fighting somewhere in that beautiful mind."
Marion's throat worked, but no sound came out. She tried to form words of defiance, threats, anything to prove she hadn't been completely destroyed, but her tongue wouldn't cooperate.
"No clever retorts? That's disappointing." The demon drifted closer, its countless eyes examining her with unsettling intensity. "I do so enjoy our conversations. The way you insult me even while you're laughing. The fury in your eyes even while you're cumming. It adds... dimensionality to our little game."
A tentacle lifted her chin, forcing her to meet the demon's gaze.
"So I'm going to offer you something I rarely offer my guests," Xith'thalox continued. "A chance. A challenge. A tiny, flickering hope that you might - might - escape with some shred of dignity intact."
Marion's eyes widened.
"Interested?" The demon's voice curled with amusement. "I thought you might be. Here's my offer: I'm going to tickle you. Just tickle - no pleasure, no humiliation beyond the laughter. And if you can keep your arms raised above your head until the sand in this hourglass runs out..."
A tentacle produced an hourglass from somewhere, its chambers filled with glittering gold sand.
"...I'll let you go. Send you back to Wildemount, memories intact, no worse for wear than when you arrived."
"And if..." Marion's voice was barely audible. "If I fail?"
"Then you belong to me until I've had my fill." The demon's eyes gleamed. "However long that takes. However far I need to go. And when I'm done, I'll send you back to Velouria as the obedient little servant she always wanted you to be."
Marion stared at the hourglass. The sand seemed to measure about three minutes - three minutes of keeping her arms up while being tickled. It sounded simple. It sounded achievable. It sounded like the only hope she had.
"Deal," she whispered.
"Excellent." Xith'thalox's tentacles rearranged themselves, lowering Marion until her bare feet touched the warm sand.
Marion stretched her arms above her head. Her body was exhausted, wrung out, sensitized beyond belief. But she had survived enough threats and seductions and the occasional kidnapping. She could do this.
She had to do this.
"Ready?" Xith'thalox asked.
"Yes."
The demon flipped the hourglass, and the gold sand began to fall. The tentacles started on her armpits. It was a cruel opening move: Marion's arms, stretched above her head, exposed the hollows completely, and her armpits had always been among her most ticklish spots. The feathery cilia found every nerve ending with unerring precision, and Marion's face contorted immediately.
"Already struggling?" Xith'thalox observed. "The sand has barely started moving."
Marion gritted her teeth, her lips pressed together so hard they went white. Her arms trembled but stayed up - she would NOT let them fall, would NOT give this demon the satisfaction.
The tentacles intensified.
Her face went through a rapid series of expressions: scrunched eyes, bitten lips, a grimace that showed all her teeth, a sort of desperate smile that was somehow worse than laughter. Her shoulders shook. Her hands clenched into fists above her head.
"You're turning the most fascinating shade of purple," the demon noted. "I didn't think tieflings could do that. Are you breathing? You really should breathe."
A sharp exhale burst from Marion's nose as the tentacles dropped from her armpit to her ribcage.
"Still holding. I'm impressed." The tentacles shifted, some moving down to her ribs while others continued their assault on her arms.
The ribs were somehow worse. There was something about the sensitivity of the exposed bone, the way sensation lanced through the chest cavity, that made every touch feel amplified. Marion's body twisted and jerked, but her arms stayed up - albeit shaking badly now, fingers splayed and clawing at the air.
She glanced at the hourglass. Perhaps a quarter of the sand had fallen.
I can do this, she told herself. *I've survived worse. I've survived Velouria. I can survive three minutes.
Marion's face contorted into an expression that would have horrified her if she could see it: lips pulled back in a chaotic grimace, cheeks bulging, eyes squeezed shut so tight they watered. She was making sounds now, little huffing gasps that were trying desperately to become laughter.
"Mmmph-! hnnn... pfff~!"
"The sounds you're making," Xith'thalox said, "are absolutely adorable. Like a tea kettle trying not to whistle."
The tentacles dropped to her hips, and Marion's legs began to tremble. Only her raised arms, still held above her head through sheer desperate willpower, kept her partially upright.
Half the sand had fallen. Half remained.
"Getting tired?" the demon asked. "Arms getting heavy? You've been through so much today, haven't you? Orgasms and tickling and all that crying. It would be so easy to just... let go. Let your arms fall. Give in to the laughter that's building inside you."
Marion's arms shook like leaves in a storm. Every muscle screamed for release.
"Mmmmmm - MMMM!!!"
"Just a little laugh," Xith'thalox coaxed. "One tiny giggle. You've earned it. You've been so good, Ruby, holding on so tight. Don't you want to let some of that pressure out?"
Her left arm dipped. Just an inch. Then jerked back up.
"Getting harder now." The tentacles focused on her sides in long, slow strokes that traced from hip to armpit and back again. "The muscles are burning. The sensation is overwhelming. And you know... you know... that even if you win this challenge, I'll send you back to Velouria. You'll never really escape. So why fight so hard?"
The words struck a nerve. The demon was right - even if she won, Velouria was waiting. The succubus who had already started reshaping Marion's mind, who had already planted commands that she was still fighting to resist.
Maybe it would be easier to just...
"No!" she shouted. The tentacles attacked in force.
Every sensitive spot Marion possessed was suddenly under assault - armpits, ribs, hips, belly, back. She screamed, and the sound that emerged was a strangled howl that immediately collapsed into laughter.
Her arms dropped.
She didn't even realize she'd done it until she felt her hands slap against her sides, felt her body curl into itself, felt the challenge end.
"Oh, Ruby." Xith'thalox's voice dripped with satisfaction. "So close. Five more seconds and you would have been free."
Marion collapsed to the sand, laughing and sobbing, barely able to breathe. She'd lost. She'd lost by seconds, and now...
"Now you're mine," the demon finished her thought. "For as long as I want. And I'm going to want for a very, very long time."
---
Time ceased to have meaning.
In Xith'thalox's demiplane, where no sun rose or set, where the bruise-purple sky never changed, where the only markers of passing hours were exhaustion and desperate recovery periods, Marion's world narrowed to simple, devastating elements: tickling, pleasure, and the slow dissolution of everything she had been.
The demon was endlessly creative, and Marion was slowly conditioned through an endless cycle of punishment and reward.
The acceptance came in stages. First, Marion stopped fighting the laughter. There was no point - the tickling would produce it regardless of her wishes, so she let it flow through her without resistance. This seemed to please the demon, who rewarded her with gentler sessions, with more pleasure mixed into the torment.
Then she stopped trying to hold back orgasms. They were inevitable, so why struggle? Her body would respond as it would, and if the demon wanted to make her come a dozen times in a row, she would accept it. Float on the waves of sensation. Let herself go.
Finally, she stopped thinking of escape. This happened gradually: one moment she was mentally cataloging every feature of the demiplane, searching for weaknesses, the next, she was merely... existing. Waiting for the next session. Anticipating the touch of tentacles with something that might have been eagerness.
"There she is," Xith'thalox said, watching her with countless eyes. "The real Marion. Not the Ruby of the Sea, that mask you wore for so long. Not even the defiant prisoner who cursed me and fought every step. This is what was always underneath - a woman who craves to surrender, who needs to be overwhelmed, who has been waiting her whole life to let someone else take control."
"Yes," Marion whispered, and the word felt like truth.
The demon bred her, too: that was the part Marion remembered most clearly, even when other memories began to blur. Tentacles inside her that were thick, ridged, and impossibly deep, fucking her while other tentacles tickled and teased and pushed her toward climaxes that threatened to break something fundamental in her mind. The demon filled her over and over, and with each release came whispered words that sank into her consciousness.
The words became truth because Marion let them become truth. Because it was easier. Because the demon had shown her how much simpler life could be when she stopped fighting, stopped thinking, stopped being anything but a vessel for sensation and service.
Her being crystallized over time around this new identity, her old thoughts and opinions and memories dissolved, to be replaced with one singular mantra: service.
---
One day, the portal opened. Marion lay on the warm sand, content and empty. But then the next thing she knew, she was tumbling back through dimensions, reality spiraling and twisting around her until she landed on a familiar surface - her own silk sheets.
She was back in her chambers. And Velouria was standing over her.
