Lake Superior
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 3, 2019
- Messages
- 187
- Points
- 18
Navarre brushed his hair from his eyes and peered ahead at the strange scene. From these bushes, he had a perfect vantage point over what appeared to be a banquet table simply sitting here on a battlefield. On orders from the Summoner, Navarre had dispatched to investigate Caeda's absence who herself had been sent to investigate strange rumors of a haunted field in Nifl where people were reporting monsters. On arriving here after a bit of a search he'd happened upon a dining room table set for what looked to be a banquet fit for a king. Golden plates and silver goblets sparkled in the noon-day sun with various dishes set about. A plate of sausages so tall it seemed they reached to the sun. Navarre had felt hungry at seeing all of this but his swordsman's instincts had warned him of danger. He'd ducked into a nearby bush to study the situation unseen.
Now as he sat here hiding from nothing his ears began to burn at the how silly he must look. Yes, this was a strange situation but in a world where he rubbed shoulders with gods and dragons was it really something worth hiding from? A glint from the bushes across from him caught his eye and Navarre saw the blue-haired Princess Caeda also hiding from the table. She spotted him at around the same time and motioned for him to keep low, earning a puzzled response from the swordsman. She mimed eating towards the table then cupped her hand to her ear before placing a finger to her lips. Navarre was no great shakes at this game and had no idea what she was trying to say. He reached for his sword where he'd leaned it in the bush but accidentally knocked it to the ground. The blade rattled in its scabbard like a dinner bell and Caeda clapped her hands over her mouth. The table cloth shot up and slender black shapes snaked forward almost too quick for Navarre to register, making a beeline for the source of the noise which was Navarre's blade they formed into hands and grabbed ahold of it just as Navarre did. "Let go!" He growled at the specters which froze them for a second. Only a second though as they then grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him from the bushes kicking and stomping as he realized that had Caeda had been trying to warn him to stay quiet. He saw the Princess seize her sword and step from the bush to try and help only for more shadows to emerge from beneath the table and travel towards her. "NO! RUN NOW PRINCESS! GET AID! I WILL HANDLE THIS MYSELF!" He yelled as loudly as he could. This made the shadows reaching for her turn towards him and allowed Caeda to escape.
He dug in his heels and tried to get loose before the other hands could get him but had no luck. When they got to him though they slipped under his clothes and began to undo his fencer's armor. Kicking at them did nothing as for all intents Navarre was being disarmed by shadows. With a clank, his armor was left in a heap on the ground behind him as the hands moved on to pulling his shirt off over his head then ripping away his undershirt. The long-haired swordsman tried sitting down in the dirt to stop the drag but this just allowed the hands to rip away his trousers and smallclothes next, by the time he was pulled by his wrists over the table he was standing there stark naked but for his soft shoes. A place was cleared upon the table for him and Navarre bent over it and eventually dragged up onto the table. The hands retreated but before Navarre could move the sausages came alive. Quick as a serpent, the oily links encircled his ankles and bound them together before continuing on up his body. Navarre slapped at them and tried to get away but soon the greasy meat had wrapped around his waist and trapped his hands to his sides.
"RUN! PRINCESS RUN AND DON-MMPPHM?!" Navarre's heroic words were muffled by an apple suddenly being forced between his lips by an unseen force. He was slammed upon the table and the sausage links constricted suddenly as if they were iron. He struggled and pulled but couldn't move, aside from his head or still shoed feet. His hands opened and closed at his sides as he tried to shake the apple from his mouth. "PPPHMM! MMPMM!!" He couldn't believe it. Him. The greatest swordsman in Archanaea trussed up like a wild bird by a table and presented as a centerpiece. He took a break from struggling to simply seethe at the humiliation being visited upon him. He was glad that at the very least Princess Caeda had gotten away and much gladder that nobody could see him like this. She would send help back eventually so all he could do now was hope that it would arrive before Surtr checked this particular trap of his. A cold wind blew over the field and ran a chill up Navarre's naked form. On the wind, he could hear a ghostly voice cry out "Time for an Appetizer" just as more of the table came to life around him. Forks rose around him and floated over to sample, jabbing themselves gently into his sides, ribs, and abs before dragging their prongs wickedly along the areas they'd chosen. Navarre thrashed in his bonds but all the movement spread the oil from the meat over his body and into those areas where the forks ravaged. With his skin now coated in slick liquid, the forks sped up their attack and really made him suffer especially upon his ribs. Sliding along each protruding bone before veering back to skate through the ticklish chasms as the swordsman could do nothing but squeal into the fruit jammed between his lips. "MMMHHMM!! NNPPHMM!!"
Navarre's fervent screams into his gag led to a small trail of drool slipping from his lips. As it trailed down his chin and to his neck, another part of the arrangement joined in. A pair of basting brushes levitated from the silver tray they had previously rested upon and floated towards the frantic swordmaster's neck. One made a beeline for those manly tears the handsome swordsman had let slip. It chased after when Navarre tried to turn away from the tickly brush upon his cheek but he only had so much room to go before it caught up and gently drew it's fluffy bristles up his struggling neck until it to the moisture. It dabbed them away then retreated to a dish upon the platter it came from. Navarre couldn't follow it's movements due to the other brush traveling along his naked skin and collecting the beads of sweat. It danced away one beneath his left nipple then dragged itself along his chest to collect a few between his abs. Navarre shrieked into his gag when the first brush returned and started mopping up at his moist right armpit. They took frequent trips back to that dish and each time returned stiff and new as the day were crafted. One took up residence in the crook of his neck and stroked along there, as the man struggled against the fluffy sensations that were turning the hardened mercenary into a frantic schoolchild.
A ghostly bell tinkled on the wind and the forks withdrew and the brushes returned to their platter. Navarre huffed for a minute from around the apple and scanned the horizon for any signs of aid coming to save him. His toes curled in his shoes at the sight of chopsticks rising all around the table and advancing upon him. They circled around him like a shark testing prey until one pair broke rank to investigate him. The pair of twigs opened themselves and closed around the length of his erect cock. Squeezing the meaty organ tighter, tighter, and tighter still until finally, the red-faced Navarre looked away with a very unmanly whimper. This earned him a glide down by the chopsticks essentially giving him the pump he had been secretly aching for and allowing his dick to erupt white over his thighs and stomach. Navarre sagged in the sausage links from the unwanted ejaculation and had to fight hard for a minute to keep from drifting off. The sight of the brushes rising again though shocked him awake and they drifted towards his messy manhood causing his struggles to resume anew. The brushes drew up his shaft slowly, knowing just how torturous their stiff bristles along his manhood felt. He bit into his gag with enough force to take out a chunk of the fruit but to his amazement, the piece was replaced in a split second and the apple was whole again blocking his cries for help and generally enforcing the feeling that he was a wonderful centerpiece for this spectral feast. One more pair of chopsticks broke from the circle and gently traced themselves down from his neck, over his collarbone, and down his sensitive abdominals. If Navarre had been his usual cool, calm and collected self he would have quickly figured out that this particular pair was tracing the journey of the piece of apple he'd just swallowed at a horrendously slow pace. However that Navarre had never felt his spurting manhood pumped by spiritually possessed eating utensils while simultaneously being cleaned by deviously stiff brushes so instead all he did was howl pitifully into a piece of fruit.
The brushes continued their round trips to the plate to clean themselves leisurely while Navarre frantically pulled at his ridiculous bonds. He'd managed to get his fingers on one side up into the soft cotton string between connecting the meat that trapped him. He thanked years of swordsmanship training in the art of wielding two blades for his nimble fingers as he tried to surreptitiously pull the string loose enough to wiggle free. He was just getting it free when his index finger was pinched by something. The desperate centerpiece saw that another pair of chopsticks had pinched his finger and was now pulling it back to pin it to his side. More joined in and soon all five of Navarre's digits had been restrained similarly and his sweaty palm was exposed to the cool dusk air. Yet more brushes floated over to tease and tickle his palm as punishment for his escape attempt. The aforementioned sword training was double-edged as it had left his palms softened from long exposure to the cloth hilts which he treated every night. His hysteria kicked into another gear at the new front being opened and he came again with no less control over himself as his other hand was wrenched open to be treated similarly.
The bell tinkles on the wind again and the chopsticks withdrew before laying themselves upon the plates surrounding his head. Navarre panted hard as he tried to regain his breath for whatever came next. "How long ago had Caeda run away? Surely by now, she had to have found somebody. Anybody! They had to be on their way to save him. He couldn't stand this anymore!" He thought to himself. Candles around the table sparked to life unbidden and in the flickering light Navarre could make out the same shadowy hands that had originally dragged him over here to this hellish dining experience. The thick black fingers wiggled expectantly as they approached his defenseless form and began massaging his trapped ankles. One, two, three, four with a fifth then a sixth emerging, Navarre tried to count them to distract himself from the feeling of those fat fingers slowly walking up his bare leg. One more of the hands ran itself through Navarre's jet black mane and stroked a finger down the back of his neck. He tried to turn and roll away from that one but the one at his leg held him by the thigh and squeezed a warning. He snickered into his gag at that as two slipped over and began flicking fingers under his nipples. Back and forth, back and forth they went in maddening synchronicity to maximize their damage to the poor little pink nubs on the crimson blades chest. One hand cupped Navarre's chin and gently led his face to stare at the head of the table where he could make out a faint outline. A faint voice on the wind made a joke about "Finger food being the best to share with friends" and Navarre could suddenly hear uproarious laughter all around him. The laughter peaked when another hand came toward his face began to stroke a finger down the crux of his nose. He tried to shake his head to make it stop but the one palming his chin kept him still as the repetitive motions on his nose bothered him and the ghostly fingers danced along the back of his neck. One floated over his stomach and wiggled it's fingers cartoonishly towards his navel. It skimmed a finger along his oily stomach muscles and over his ribs flailing its fingers like his tum's contortions with laughter were just waves for it to surf. Finally stopping at his navel it attempted to enter the little indent but found it's finger too thick to fit inside. It wiggled itself back and forth, to and from trying to get headway inside to no avail but to just further drive the swordsman mad. One more hand took a handful of Navarre's hair and brought it around to begin ticking his ear. This seemed like a popular idea as then another did the same to his neck, then another at his nose...
The muscles along his calves had a hand each skittering ghostly digits along them while another caressed the inside of his thigh lovingly. He felt little squeezes at his ankles and found he was ticklish even there to his fright when he again howled into his fruity gag. His knees were pinched on one side and kneaded on the other while a few hands skittered along his hips towards his delectable rear. Navarre hadn't even the strength left to resist and instead prayed to the divine dragon that someone was close to saving him. He'd laid down his life in the protection of Princess Caeda but he begged that she'd return to save him even if she brought that blasted Ogma or that horrid dancer that would'nt leave him be. The one at his navel finally finessed it's way inside and scratched lightly at the deepest point of the cute button. Navarre's tears were flowing freely at this point as once again the sweat-soaked mercenary orgasmed against his will due to another hand that had been running a finger around the head of his cock. The bell tinkled on the wind again and the hands withdrew leaving an exhausted Navarre limp in his bonds. He thought of how he'd been called a hero on being brought here. The legendary swordsman whose demeanor and skill had been told of in legend. Now here he was lying in a puddle of his own cum after having been tickled pink all over. The brushes came again and though their bristles still teased Navarre's hips and balls as they took away his fluids but mainly he tried to rest for whatever the next stage of this horrid dinner was.
The word "Drinks" floated over the wind and Navarre whimpered as he floated above the table weightless. At the head of the table, a pair of yellow eyes stared as he turned in the air and was placed back stomach down on the table with his manhood guides into a cushioned hole below that he swore hadn't been there. Navarre whimpered again like a naughty child being punished at the thought of what was below the table now and whatever the wispy feeling stroking along his still erect shaft was down there. A silver platter floated along down from the head of the tables towards him and Navarre caught a glimpse of something pink for a split second before his member suddenly felt enveloped by a silken cloth. Delicate hands with cold fingers worked along his cock and cleaned every inch of it with a cloth so soft Navarre felt as if he was impaled into a cloud. So entranced by the feeling was he that he didn't notice the mound of pink limbs upon the platter start to stir until he heard the damn bell on the wind again.
"Seafood" was all he heard before the wet tentacles slithered over him. The platter gave rise to dozens of them that squirmed and writhed along his back and rump looking for spots to play. His buttcheeks were teased by so many wet tips that he lost count while more trailed up his back and pecked between his shoulder blades. The backs of his knees were explored as well and one particularly adventurous one went on a deep excursion down between Navarre's thighs to encircle and tease the hanging prize there. Feeling the wet slapping tendrils explore him though was nothing compared to whatever was happening beneath the table to him. A single finger trailed down his shaft and drowned out every thought Navarre about the pair of tentacles teasing his ears like a child. A pinch at the tip made Navarre squeak at the stinging betrayal by the hand who he instantly forgave as it caressed him with that wonderful silken cloth that let him forget the tentacle teasing down his defenseless rear. When the hand finally gave a little squeeze as signal Navarre was all too pleased to release once again as his mind burned away. He did so with a smile so wide that you could see it around the apple, despite how it hurt at this point due to the exhaustion. That was something that would have bothered the old Navarre, the one that wasn't loving every second of this ticklish annihalation.
Once more the bell rang on the wind and Navarre's torment ceased. This time he moaned into the gag for the ghostly hand's expert touch to return. He was limp but for a tiny bit of whimpering at the sight of the large silver knife floating before him. It floated down the table before stopping at his shoes. A fork from earlier pierced the swordsman's cloth shoe carefully so as not to harm him but to hold it still as the knife slowly began to carve its way down through the cloth shoes sole. The blade was so close to his socked foot that the giggly and destroyed Navarre could feel the cold emanating from the metal. He giggled into the apple as the process repeated and his other shoe was carved open to reveal his other foot to the table. His toes wiggled inside his sheer black socks at the cold air coming through his ruined shoes. He chuckled into his apple as he slid up the table in his bonds towards the dark shape that was seated at the head of the table. Bony hands seized Navarre by the shoulders and pulled him onto the lap of his host to whom he happily snuggled into the shoulder of.
Hel pulled the apple from Navarre's mouth and smirked at the goofy expression pasted over the normally dour swordsman's face. With a snap of her fingers, the meaty bindings fell away and the exhausted man breathed a sigh of relief but still did not remove his feet from the table. The Queen of the Dead took a lock of the man's hair and teased it along the man's nose causing him to giggle lightly. "Heeheehee that feels so good!" "Doesn't it pet? Don't worry there will be nothing but this in your future and I promise that. Do you want another serving of the tickles in front of all your new friends?" "Yes! Yes! Please more I never want it to stop." "Perfect. I'm so happy you're going to fit in with our other guests." Hel gestured out over the table and before Navarre's eyes figures came into view. Large chairs contained the struggling prisoners who pounded their fists upon the table and howled as their feet were tormented by the same ethereal hands that had milked Navarre earlier. Lucius had his toes tweaked, Raven his arches scraped and Lif his heels pinched all by fat shadowy fingers. Hel could barely look away at the steepled head of her new King, Leo whose feet below the table had the exclusive attention of the seafood platter from earlier. The forks stroked along his socked feet slowly as Navarre's smile only grew. He was in a tickly heaven of foggy confusion as he saw the dainty form of Princess Caeda squealing at the pinching of her toes below the table by chopsticks. She reached her hand towards the swordsman and tried to mouth an apology through her torment but Navarre's loving laughter told her much of her failure to save her protector. She burst into guffaws as ghostly fingers worked betwixt her toes.
The scratching from the sharp prongs along his size 12 soles made Navarre laugh just as hard as the question of how long the Princess had dined with them. The thin socks offered no protection and had been a point of anger between him and Phina when she had gifted them to him. The smallest of tears formed in his sock as he remembered how the girl had told him how the thin material would allow him superior mobility on the battlefield. The memory of the strange girl nagged Navarre as he tried to remember something from before he'd discovered the joy of having his brains tickled out of him by his new gorgeous master. A chopstick worked its way into the hole and worked the hole bigger and bigger and bigger. Navarre threw his head and back and laughed anew as the tentacles and hands descended upon his newly bared foot and his laughter joined with the others to ring through the night.
Now as he sat here hiding from nothing his ears began to burn at the how silly he must look. Yes, this was a strange situation but in a world where he rubbed shoulders with gods and dragons was it really something worth hiding from? A glint from the bushes across from him caught his eye and Navarre saw the blue-haired Princess Caeda also hiding from the table. She spotted him at around the same time and motioned for him to keep low, earning a puzzled response from the swordsman. She mimed eating towards the table then cupped her hand to her ear before placing a finger to her lips. Navarre was no great shakes at this game and had no idea what she was trying to say. He reached for his sword where he'd leaned it in the bush but accidentally knocked it to the ground. The blade rattled in its scabbard like a dinner bell and Caeda clapped her hands over her mouth. The table cloth shot up and slender black shapes snaked forward almost too quick for Navarre to register, making a beeline for the source of the noise which was Navarre's blade they formed into hands and grabbed ahold of it just as Navarre did. "Let go!" He growled at the specters which froze them for a second. Only a second though as they then grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him from the bushes kicking and stomping as he realized that had Caeda had been trying to warn him to stay quiet. He saw the Princess seize her sword and step from the bush to try and help only for more shadows to emerge from beneath the table and travel towards her. "NO! RUN NOW PRINCESS! GET AID! I WILL HANDLE THIS MYSELF!" He yelled as loudly as he could. This made the shadows reaching for her turn towards him and allowed Caeda to escape.
He dug in his heels and tried to get loose before the other hands could get him but had no luck. When they got to him though they slipped under his clothes and began to undo his fencer's armor. Kicking at them did nothing as for all intents Navarre was being disarmed by shadows. With a clank, his armor was left in a heap on the ground behind him as the hands moved on to pulling his shirt off over his head then ripping away his undershirt. The long-haired swordsman tried sitting down in the dirt to stop the drag but this just allowed the hands to rip away his trousers and smallclothes next, by the time he was pulled by his wrists over the table he was standing there stark naked but for his soft shoes. A place was cleared upon the table for him and Navarre bent over it and eventually dragged up onto the table. The hands retreated but before Navarre could move the sausages came alive. Quick as a serpent, the oily links encircled his ankles and bound them together before continuing on up his body. Navarre slapped at them and tried to get away but soon the greasy meat had wrapped around his waist and trapped his hands to his sides.
"RUN! PRINCESS RUN AND DON-MMPPHM?!" Navarre's heroic words were muffled by an apple suddenly being forced between his lips by an unseen force. He was slammed upon the table and the sausage links constricted suddenly as if they were iron. He struggled and pulled but couldn't move, aside from his head or still shoed feet. His hands opened and closed at his sides as he tried to shake the apple from his mouth. "PPPHMM! MMPMM!!" He couldn't believe it. Him. The greatest swordsman in Archanaea trussed up like a wild bird by a table and presented as a centerpiece. He took a break from struggling to simply seethe at the humiliation being visited upon him. He was glad that at the very least Princess Caeda had gotten away and much gladder that nobody could see him like this. She would send help back eventually so all he could do now was hope that it would arrive before Surtr checked this particular trap of his. A cold wind blew over the field and ran a chill up Navarre's naked form. On the wind, he could hear a ghostly voice cry out "Time for an Appetizer" just as more of the table came to life around him. Forks rose around him and floated over to sample, jabbing themselves gently into his sides, ribs, and abs before dragging their prongs wickedly along the areas they'd chosen. Navarre thrashed in his bonds but all the movement spread the oil from the meat over his body and into those areas where the forks ravaged. With his skin now coated in slick liquid, the forks sped up their attack and really made him suffer especially upon his ribs. Sliding along each protruding bone before veering back to skate through the ticklish chasms as the swordsman could do nothing but squeal into the fruit jammed between his lips. "MMMHHMM!! NNPPHMM!!"
Navarre's fervent screams into his gag led to a small trail of drool slipping from his lips. As it trailed down his chin and to his neck, another part of the arrangement joined in. A pair of basting brushes levitated from the silver tray they had previously rested upon and floated towards the frantic swordmaster's neck. One made a beeline for those manly tears the handsome swordsman had let slip. It chased after when Navarre tried to turn away from the tickly brush upon his cheek but he only had so much room to go before it caught up and gently drew it's fluffy bristles up his struggling neck until it to the moisture. It dabbed them away then retreated to a dish upon the platter it came from. Navarre couldn't follow it's movements due to the other brush traveling along his naked skin and collecting the beads of sweat. It danced away one beneath his left nipple then dragged itself along his chest to collect a few between his abs. Navarre shrieked into his gag when the first brush returned and started mopping up at his moist right armpit. They took frequent trips back to that dish and each time returned stiff and new as the day were crafted. One took up residence in the crook of his neck and stroked along there, as the man struggled against the fluffy sensations that were turning the hardened mercenary into a frantic schoolchild.
A ghostly bell tinkled on the wind and the forks withdrew and the brushes returned to their platter. Navarre huffed for a minute from around the apple and scanned the horizon for any signs of aid coming to save him. His toes curled in his shoes at the sight of chopsticks rising all around the table and advancing upon him. They circled around him like a shark testing prey until one pair broke rank to investigate him. The pair of twigs opened themselves and closed around the length of his erect cock. Squeezing the meaty organ tighter, tighter, and tighter still until finally, the red-faced Navarre looked away with a very unmanly whimper. This earned him a glide down by the chopsticks essentially giving him the pump he had been secretly aching for and allowing his dick to erupt white over his thighs and stomach. Navarre sagged in the sausage links from the unwanted ejaculation and had to fight hard for a minute to keep from drifting off. The sight of the brushes rising again though shocked him awake and they drifted towards his messy manhood causing his struggles to resume anew. The brushes drew up his shaft slowly, knowing just how torturous their stiff bristles along his manhood felt. He bit into his gag with enough force to take out a chunk of the fruit but to his amazement, the piece was replaced in a split second and the apple was whole again blocking his cries for help and generally enforcing the feeling that he was a wonderful centerpiece for this spectral feast. One more pair of chopsticks broke from the circle and gently traced themselves down from his neck, over his collarbone, and down his sensitive abdominals. If Navarre had been his usual cool, calm and collected self he would have quickly figured out that this particular pair was tracing the journey of the piece of apple he'd just swallowed at a horrendously slow pace. However that Navarre had never felt his spurting manhood pumped by spiritually possessed eating utensils while simultaneously being cleaned by deviously stiff brushes so instead all he did was howl pitifully into a piece of fruit.
The brushes continued their round trips to the plate to clean themselves leisurely while Navarre frantically pulled at his ridiculous bonds. He'd managed to get his fingers on one side up into the soft cotton string between connecting the meat that trapped him. He thanked years of swordsmanship training in the art of wielding two blades for his nimble fingers as he tried to surreptitiously pull the string loose enough to wiggle free. He was just getting it free when his index finger was pinched by something. The desperate centerpiece saw that another pair of chopsticks had pinched his finger and was now pulling it back to pin it to his side. More joined in and soon all five of Navarre's digits had been restrained similarly and his sweaty palm was exposed to the cool dusk air. Yet more brushes floated over to tease and tickle his palm as punishment for his escape attempt. The aforementioned sword training was double-edged as it had left his palms softened from long exposure to the cloth hilts which he treated every night. His hysteria kicked into another gear at the new front being opened and he came again with no less control over himself as his other hand was wrenched open to be treated similarly.
The bell tinkles on the wind again and the chopsticks withdrew before laying themselves upon the plates surrounding his head. Navarre panted hard as he tried to regain his breath for whatever came next. "How long ago had Caeda run away? Surely by now, she had to have found somebody. Anybody! They had to be on their way to save him. He couldn't stand this anymore!" He thought to himself. Candles around the table sparked to life unbidden and in the flickering light Navarre could make out the same shadowy hands that had originally dragged him over here to this hellish dining experience. The thick black fingers wiggled expectantly as they approached his defenseless form and began massaging his trapped ankles. One, two, three, four with a fifth then a sixth emerging, Navarre tried to count them to distract himself from the feeling of those fat fingers slowly walking up his bare leg. One more of the hands ran itself through Navarre's jet black mane and stroked a finger down the back of his neck. He tried to turn and roll away from that one but the one at his leg held him by the thigh and squeezed a warning. He snickered into his gag at that as two slipped over and began flicking fingers under his nipples. Back and forth, back and forth they went in maddening synchronicity to maximize their damage to the poor little pink nubs on the crimson blades chest. One hand cupped Navarre's chin and gently led his face to stare at the head of the table where he could make out a faint outline. A faint voice on the wind made a joke about "Finger food being the best to share with friends" and Navarre could suddenly hear uproarious laughter all around him. The laughter peaked when another hand came toward his face began to stroke a finger down the crux of his nose. He tried to shake his head to make it stop but the one palming his chin kept him still as the repetitive motions on his nose bothered him and the ghostly fingers danced along the back of his neck. One floated over his stomach and wiggled it's fingers cartoonishly towards his navel. It skimmed a finger along his oily stomach muscles and over his ribs flailing its fingers like his tum's contortions with laughter were just waves for it to surf. Finally stopping at his navel it attempted to enter the little indent but found it's finger too thick to fit inside. It wiggled itself back and forth, to and from trying to get headway inside to no avail but to just further drive the swordsman mad. One more hand took a handful of Navarre's hair and brought it around to begin ticking his ear. This seemed like a popular idea as then another did the same to his neck, then another at his nose...
The muscles along his calves had a hand each skittering ghostly digits along them while another caressed the inside of his thigh lovingly. He felt little squeezes at his ankles and found he was ticklish even there to his fright when he again howled into his fruity gag. His knees were pinched on one side and kneaded on the other while a few hands skittered along his hips towards his delectable rear. Navarre hadn't even the strength left to resist and instead prayed to the divine dragon that someone was close to saving him. He'd laid down his life in the protection of Princess Caeda but he begged that she'd return to save him even if she brought that blasted Ogma or that horrid dancer that would'nt leave him be. The one at his navel finally finessed it's way inside and scratched lightly at the deepest point of the cute button. Navarre's tears were flowing freely at this point as once again the sweat-soaked mercenary orgasmed against his will due to another hand that had been running a finger around the head of his cock. The bell tinkled on the wind again and the hands withdrew leaving an exhausted Navarre limp in his bonds. He thought of how he'd been called a hero on being brought here. The legendary swordsman whose demeanor and skill had been told of in legend. Now here he was lying in a puddle of his own cum after having been tickled pink all over. The brushes came again and though their bristles still teased Navarre's hips and balls as they took away his fluids but mainly he tried to rest for whatever the next stage of this horrid dinner was.
The word "Drinks" floated over the wind and Navarre whimpered as he floated above the table weightless. At the head of the table, a pair of yellow eyes stared as he turned in the air and was placed back stomach down on the table with his manhood guides into a cushioned hole below that he swore hadn't been there. Navarre whimpered again like a naughty child being punished at the thought of what was below the table now and whatever the wispy feeling stroking along his still erect shaft was down there. A silver platter floated along down from the head of the tables towards him and Navarre caught a glimpse of something pink for a split second before his member suddenly felt enveloped by a silken cloth. Delicate hands with cold fingers worked along his cock and cleaned every inch of it with a cloth so soft Navarre felt as if he was impaled into a cloud. So entranced by the feeling was he that he didn't notice the mound of pink limbs upon the platter start to stir until he heard the damn bell on the wind again.
"Seafood" was all he heard before the wet tentacles slithered over him. The platter gave rise to dozens of them that squirmed and writhed along his back and rump looking for spots to play. His buttcheeks were teased by so many wet tips that he lost count while more trailed up his back and pecked between his shoulder blades. The backs of his knees were explored as well and one particularly adventurous one went on a deep excursion down between Navarre's thighs to encircle and tease the hanging prize there. Feeling the wet slapping tendrils explore him though was nothing compared to whatever was happening beneath the table to him. A single finger trailed down his shaft and drowned out every thought Navarre about the pair of tentacles teasing his ears like a child. A pinch at the tip made Navarre squeak at the stinging betrayal by the hand who he instantly forgave as it caressed him with that wonderful silken cloth that let him forget the tentacle teasing down his defenseless rear. When the hand finally gave a little squeeze as signal Navarre was all too pleased to release once again as his mind burned away. He did so with a smile so wide that you could see it around the apple, despite how it hurt at this point due to the exhaustion. That was something that would have bothered the old Navarre, the one that wasn't loving every second of this ticklish annihalation.
Once more the bell rang on the wind and Navarre's torment ceased. This time he moaned into the gag for the ghostly hand's expert touch to return. He was limp but for a tiny bit of whimpering at the sight of the large silver knife floating before him. It floated down the table before stopping at his shoes. A fork from earlier pierced the swordsman's cloth shoe carefully so as not to harm him but to hold it still as the knife slowly began to carve its way down through the cloth shoes sole. The blade was so close to his socked foot that the giggly and destroyed Navarre could feel the cold emanating from the metal. He giggled into the apple as the process repeated and his other shoe was carved open to reveal his other foot to the table. His toes wiggled inside his sheer black socks at the cold air coming through his ruined shoes. He chuckled into his apple as he slid up the table in his bonds towards the dark shape that was seated at the head of the table. Bony hands seized Navarre by the shoulders and pulled him onto the lap of his host to whom he happily snuggled into the shoulder of.
Hel pulled the apple from Navarre's mouth and smirked at the goofy expression pasted over the normally dour swordsman's face. With a snap of her fingers, the meaty bindings fell away and the exhausted man breathed a sigh of relief but still did not remove his feet from the table. The Queen of the Dead took a lock of the man's hair and teased it along the man's nose causing him to giggle lightly. "Heeheehee that feels so good!" "Doesn't it pet? Don't worry there will be nothing but this in your future and I promise that. Do you want another serving of the tickles in front of all your new friends?" "Yes! Yes! Please more I never want it to stop." "Perfect. I'm so happy you're going to fit in with our other guests." Hel gestured out over the table and before Navarre's eyes figures came into view. Large chairs contained the struggling prisoners who pounded their fists upon the table and howled as their feet were tormented by the same ethereal hands that had milked Navarre earlier. Lucius had his toes tweaked, Raven his arches scraped and Lif his heels pinched all by fat shadowy fingers. Hel could barely look away at the steepled head of her new King, Leo whose feet below the table had the exclusive attention of the seafood platter from earlier. The forks stroked along his socked feet slowly as Navarre's smile only grew. He was in a tickly heaven of foggy confusion as he saw the dainty form of Princess Caeda squealing at the pinching of her toes below the table by chopsticks. She reached her hand towards the swordsman and tried to mouth an apology through her torment but Navarre's loving laughter told her much of her failure to save her protector. She burst into guffaws as ghostly fingers worked betwixt her toes.
The scratching from the sharp prongs along his size 12 soles made Navarre laugh just as hard as the question of how long the Princess had dined with them. The thin socks offered no protection and had been a point of anger between him and Phina when she had gifted them to him. The smallest of tears formed in his sock as he remembered how the girl had told him how the thin material would allow him superior mobility on the battlefield. The memory of the strange girl nagged Navarre as he tried to remember something from before he'd discovered the joy of having his brains tickled out of him by his new gorgeous master. A chopstick worked its way into the hole and worked the hole bigger and bigger and bigger. Navarre threw his head and back and laughed anew as the tentacles and hands descended upon his newly bared foot and his laughter joined with the others to ring through the night.