GarnettRose
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2024
- Messages
- 217
- Points
- 43
It has been a long day of work notating alchemical formulas until my eyes cross. With every move, my joints creak in protest, stiff from a day hunched over parchment. Yet with all I've done today, my hands feel idle. I have done what I can but it never feels like enough. With a neverending task list, I could write until my hands bleed and still have things that need to be done around here.
Master James, an alchemical genius and my mentor has already chastised me once for reading ahead.
My toes clench as I remember the caress of his soft feathers. The feeling of his magic taking control. By midnight tears were running down my smiling face. It was torture...and I haven't stopped dreaming of it since. I rub my thighs together at the memory of his attention.
These last few weeks I have tried to get his evil eyes on me again to no avail. My skirts have been shortened. My usual oxfords and boots have been abandoned for heels that expose my feet for his roaming looks. I have practically served myself on a silver platter…and he seems entirely unruffled.
Today I sauntered into work dressed as risqué as I dare. I am stuck on my tiptoes, in dark leather pumps accentuated with satin bows near the points of my feet.
In a fit of self-consciousness, I flatten out my wool skirt. It’s a grey tartan that barely grazes my knees. It’s been hours since I gave up on decorum and stripped off my wool cardigan after hours of toiling in our hot hell of a workshop. In just a lacy cream camisole, skirt, and heels, I feel embarrassingly exposed.
Freckles dance down my neck and arms in all the places I would delight in his touch. Just the thought nearly makes me collapse into mortifying giggles.
I’d hoped to see those mercurial eyes linger on my body, but it's no use. He is either distracted or disinterested. It’s become painfully clear that to hold a candle for him is an exercise in heartache.
I should be more cautious with my heart. I know that, but his guarded affection draws me in like a moth to a flame.
I am restless. Master James told me to pace myself. Tampering with unfamiliar magic is a recipe for trouble. But still...my fingers twitch as I remember the feeling of pure power coursing up my arm. I am desperate to feel it again. Perhaps that makes me a misbehaving apprentice, but I truly cannot help myself.
Since my last..excursion into unknown magicks, my dear master no longer keeps his advanced texts loose around the shop.
I watch him constantly. Seeing my master in his element fills me with desire. It’s not appropriate apprentice behavior, but I can’t help myself. I admired him for so long that I know exactly where to look for those hidden tomes. He always goes into his upstairs apartment to complete advanced spells or concoctions. Not that I have been spying…certainly not.
Master James has been out of the shop for over an hour. If I am quick and careful, I can sneak in, copy a spell onto the back of today's assignment, and be back at my desk before he returns.
Without a preamble, I roll up my parchment. I place a quill lovingly in my copper hair. It’s tied back in a low bun with loose tresses framing my face.
I’m all alone, yet I can't help but tiptoe up the stairs, hesitating as I reach the heavy oak door.
With a measured breath, I steel myself. The chill of the door knob does nothing to cool the nervous heat coursing throughout me. I really shouldn't be here, this is a dangerous idea.
With a slow creak, I glimpse a space so lived in that it tugs at my heart.
The sitting room is lined with books from floor to ceiling. Tomes both ancient and new, fill the room with the scent of leather and aging parchment. With every deep inhale, I want to melt.
I search the shelves high and low, my fingers tracing the ridges and valleys of tooled leather as I search for the perfect spell. I want something that strengthens or challenges me, and if I cannot find that...a spell to keep me company on this lonely night.
It's no use. His spell books have to be somewhere. Expertise like his always has a source, and where else would he disappear to? There must be more. It doesn’t make sense for such a powerful man to surround himself with paltry fiction.
The rest of his apartment is spotless without a book in sight. That leaves just one place to look...and my face burns at the thought.
At the end of the hallway is a door. It sits past a long row of shelves filled with bottles of every hue. They glitter like jewels in the firelight. I walk with hesitant footsteps, the wooden floors creaking with every move.
I burn at the sight of his bed chamber. As I walk in, dozens of candles erupt in an ephemeral glow. They fill the room with gentle light and the soft hum of magic.
The walls are lined with sconces. Each burns with a golden heatless flame, fluttering like feathers in the wind.
In a fit of curiosity, I hold my hand over a candlestick. I gently lower my palm to the flickering light until I feel a ticklish caress against my hand.
I stifle my voice, giggling as I keep my palm over the magic light. My head spins at the mix of magic, tickles, and his heady scent.
My eyes trail lazily around the room, almost drunk. It is artfully decorated. Bathed in candlelight, the room is practical without being spartan. A large canopy bed draped with dark velvet serves as the centerpiece of the space.
In the corner of the room lies a single bookshelf spanning from floor to ceiling. The shelves are filled to the brim with jars of unknown substances and dozens of books. A closer look at their embossed titles makes my face burn with embarrassment. Maybe I shouldn't have come here. This was a terrible idea.
With a sigh I stand up, preparing to make my way back to my desk when a loud clunk catches my attention.
Across the room, at the foot of the shelf, a familiar book lies open. Master James’ family grimoire, a tome rarely seen out of his competent hands. The memory of his golden power surging through my fingertips takes my breath away. I've already gone through several of those spells unsuccessfully...and was thoroughly punished for it. The wise choice would be to head back...at the same time...how foolish would it be to leave a priceless grimoire open on the bedroom floor?
Without another thought, I kneel down on the floor, my skirt bunching around my thighs.
The cobalt leather is soft, worn by centuries of careful study. My fingers thrum with potential energy as they stroke the ornate emblem on the cover. I shiver, looking down for the briefest moment at the scrawling calligraphy, the language bizarre and unrecognizable.
At the sight of James’s writing, my mind travels to an impossible scene. Tied to the bed as he takes great care to scribble each indiscretion onto my skin, the ink stains like shadows on my lily-white belly. I really have been a naughty apprentice...and his torture is the key to my absolution.
His handwriting, usually so neat and elegant, would be made messy by the trembling of my belly. Ink would drip down my sides in slow rivulets, one handwriting a list of misbehaviors, the other squeezing and scrabbling against my soft thighs and hips. No amount of apologies would save me from his discipline...and I'd love every minute.
My breath quickens as I feel warmth build between my thighs. The image is tantalizing...I almost yearn to be discovered, to see heat flare behind that cool exterior, even if that heat is of disapproval.
Though the symbols on the page are unrecognizable to me, I see magic shimmer across them, sending shivers up my arm.
In an instant, I am compelled. A teasing angelic wink flashes behind my eyes. It is unfamiliar, but it makes me burn. Without another thought, I grab the spare parchment and carefully copy the ancient writing as neatly as possible with my shaking hands.
Taking great effort to copy sweeping loops and turns, his family magic entwines with my own like an embrace of gold and silver.
I finish the final symbol with a flick of ink. The second my quill leaves the page, I am mystified by the scene unfolding before me.
One by one, the symbols lift off the page, turning from an otherworldly script to amorphous blobs of ink. They begin gently swirling in a cyclone around the parchment. Wonderous laughter escapes my lips. The currents of pitch orbit slow and steady until the moment joyful noise rings in the air.
As if touched by an unseen power, the orbs speed up, the ink trailing behind them like shadowy comets.
My eyes twinkle, erupting in light. Beams of gold and silver spinning faster and faster. The grand spectacle of a meteor shower dances before me in celestial wonder and I..am in awe.
In a trance, I gingerly reach out my hand.
“Just a touch, that's all you need”, my voice whispers inside, unfamiliar and still my own.
“One touch lovely and you'll have it...the attention you desperately crave,” the unseen voice coos.
With the whispering caress of a familiar voice, the dam breaks. My hand plunges into liquid light. I am not thinking of my safety, but rather, enthralled by my deepest desires. Gilted promises pull at me like welcomed shackles leading me to an unknown fate.
Drunk on the magic coursing through my veins, ivory skin glimmering with a mixed metal web of power. It's intoxicating, like the sweetest of wine. It warms me until my eyes glow with heterochromatic magic circling my irises.
A soft hand clasps mine, as I blink away the celestial light. I am brought to my feet by an unseen figure, but it is not until my brief blindness fades that my predicament is understood. It’s … a woman. She stares down at me with a smirk and cool confidence.
The woman is a picture of timeless beauty. Her svelte figure is accentuated by dark silk that clings to every inch of her body and leaves my mouth dry at the sight.
As if spun by magic itself, the thin inky gossamer wraps around her from knees to collarbone like an embrace, the fabric ending in flowing sleeves just before her wrist. It's just sheer enough to tease...but not nearly enough to satiate my growing need to see or touch the holy figure in front of me.
I study her body in wonder, admiring along warm tawny curves until at last, our eyes meet. Her gaze sparkles with mischief, irises swirl like pools of molten amber. Soft waves of ebony hair cascade down her shoulders, shining like glass.
She smiles, glancing up and down, taking me in and searching for...something. Self-conscious of her leering, I straighten my skirt, still on my knees before her ethereal beauty.
I don’t know what spell was cast or who this picture of perfection is before me, but I am entranced, kneeling before her like a faithful supplicant before an altar. Surely this creature must be a goddess...and I Surely have fucked up...monumentally.
She brings me to my feet. I am nearly a head shorter than this goddess, made even taller by a pair of strappy stilettos. She gently grasps my chin, forcing me to look up. Her appraisals make my knees wobble.
"Oh dear, I see a little mouse out of her depth. What is a pretty thing like you doing, summoning a big bad monster," she coos, her other hand gently drawing circles on my neck.
" I-I didn't I-I mean," I stutter, my tongue like lead in my mouth. Her teasing sends me to a whirlwind of heat and I can't string together a coherent thought, let alone speak it.
"Y-Y-You what darling, didn't mean to summon me? Oh, I know little mouse. Usually, only Master James would have enough power to summon me, but when I heard that delicious laughter of yours...well, I had to have a taste," she says.
Her right-hand dances along the side of my body until she settles her searching nails against my sides, exposed as my camisole has ridden up in the commotion.
At the first contact of her scrabbling nails, a stream of laughter spills from my lips. Her touch is slow, searching for every hitch of my breath, every change in sensitivity.
"Oh lovely, I think I found a ticklish little mouse. It seems my old friend has been holding out on me," she says, her voice tinted with heat. Every ring of my laughter raises a soft pink blush to her cheeks.
"O-old friend?! W-what? Hahahaha n-no I-I dohohon't understahahahand," I force out, trying and failing to conceal my laughter with every word.
"Oh dear, didn't you know...I have a sort of arrangement with your beloved master. I provide magical assistance on occasion. In return, he provides me with cute little playthings to tickle until I am satisfied."
"Playthings?!," I squeak, the thought of being hers...it intrigues me more than it should.
"Oh they're all willing I assure you. I make sure my toys are treated well," she whispers in my ear. The gentle caress sends shivers of arousal down my spine.
Her fingers trail slowly under my shirt, rhythmically tapping against each of my ribs and I squeal. Her gentlest of touches sends me into fits of soft giggles.
She moans into my ear, her fingers speeding up as my laughter becomes more frantic. A torturous cycle of crescendos with her touch, my mania, and her obvious pleasure.
"Mihihihihissss, p-pleeaassseee hahaha wh-what do you wahahant," I laugh, my body thrashing in her arms, trying in vain to protect the targets of her torment.
"Oh little mouse, someone's enjoying themselves," she teases. "All that thrashing and you aren't really trying to escape, are you doll?”
Her arms encircle my waist pulling me flush against her chest. Hands lay like a promise near my underarms. Her ruby lips are inches from mine. I want her, I want this, but I could never ask for that. With every shock of sensation, I feel myself giving over to her. My laughter quenching her thirst like an icy spring.
"You know darling...typically my contract with James is ongoing...but tonight...you did such a good job copying down that spell. Usually, just a simple rewrite wouldn't be enough. The pact I have with his bloodline is immensely strong...but a cute little thing like you...I couldn't resist." She says, dragging her nail against the sensitive place just underneath my chin. With a kiss on my cheek, she continues.
"You see, I heard your laughter dear one. For a tickle succubus like myself, a laugh like yours is sweeter than honey, and I just had to have you. With your adorable laugh and your signature, I am yours for the night...and you...are mine."
Without hesitation she closes the gap between us, taking my lips as if they had always been hers. She is so warm, her lips plush against mine. Of course, I have been kissed before. A scant series of disappointing fumbles behind library shelves.
But this woman...she kisses me with such force that I cannot help but follow. I feel her tongue caress my bottom lip, a teasing invitation that I am happy to accept.
With a smirk, she pulls away, delighting in my groans of protest.
"You're too precious little mouse. To think I would cave to your building want that easy. So naive of you dear."
I whimper as she trails her lips down my neck, leaving me desperate for more.
"P-please miss-"
"Lyra," she says, cutting off my begging mid-word.
Feeling her breath caress my ear in a whisper breaks my closely held composure.
"If you're going to be moaning something love, it damn well better be my name," she says, making me keen as she licks and nibbles at the tip of my ear.
I cry out at the attention. The heat building inside my core is unbearable.
"Lyra, Lyra, Lyra!", I beg, my hands wrapped tightly around her waist as if holding her as close as possible would grant me the pleasure my body is screaming for.
All at once her touches cease. I cry in protest as she disentangles from me, holding only my hand at a truly horrible distance.
Without any preamble, she leads me to his bed. Artfully arranging me, I see a look of planning cross her features.
My arms are gently placed near each corner of the bed with my legs straight towards the foot of the bed. When she is done with me, I am spread out in the shape of a T on a bed I certainly shouldn’t be on. She climbs onto me, her strong thighs caging my hips under her.
"Ah-ah Lyra p-please", I cry. Her lips trail down my arm with devoted care.
"Hush dear," she says, quieting my sounds of protest.
"Here’s how it is going to go love," she whispers, her fingers twirling the wisps of hair at my temple.
"You have unwittingly signed a quid pro quo agreement my love. Tonight, I will fulfill a fantasy of yours, wreck your body with pleasure...and in return. You will allow me to tickle you to tears," she says, her voice teasing and hot against my skin.
I give no thought to the implications of my actions as I nod my head in agreement. That small movement was all that it took to seal my fate. With a wave of her hand, sparks of crystal blue magic flow from her fingertips. They encircle my wrists in crystalline shackles, icy blue and comfortable against my delicate skin.
"Here’s how it's going to go, little mouse. I have the power to sense your, shall we say, vulnerabilities. Where they are, how sensitive, and how...arousing. But tonight I will not be relying on my powers," she says, trailing her nails up and down my sides. I bite my tongue, determined not to laugh for her.
"Tonight, I am going to test every one of your tickle spots just to see what I find. Each time I make you laugh, I get a little feast until I get my fill. If you are a good little mouse...I will give you what you most desire. How does that sound my love?”
A shiver travels up my spine. I can’t get the words to form on my tongue; that I want this, I’ve dreamed of it, but I could never ask. Not even for the aphroditic beauty teasing my neck in slow spirals.
Reading the silence, and the heat gathering between my thighs, the demoness has made my decision for me.
“Looks like my meek little mouse is more eager than she lets on…” Lyra teases, her whispers against my ears sending me haywire.
“Now the only question is…where should I start?”
I relax on the bed, my heart singing with joy at the thought of her game. Of course, I want her gentle touches all over my body. I'd like nothing more than to be granted sweet release, but to be at her mercy tickled endlessly with no escape, that is true bliss.
At the end of our ordeal, Lyra won't be able to offer me my deepest desire, that is not something I can say out loud, but perhaps if I follow along with her little game, I will get what I need. A night being tickled by one of the most gorgeous creatures I have ever come in contact with.
"I think I know what I'll do first," Lyra says in a sing-song tone.
She bounces her pointer finger from place to place. Gently tapping a spot on my upper body In a seemingly random pattern, poking at my waist, my belly, and my neck in quick succession. Thankfully, it is not enough to break my self-control. Her touches are light. They tease my skin, Leaving me vibrating in my bonds as I am subjected to her searching fingers.
With each brush of her nails, I march closer to my body’s betrayal.
"You are being such a strong little apprentice...and that just won't do," Lyra purrs. Getting up from the bed. She looks down at me with an ominous glee.
It is the moment she begins to wiggle her fingers right above my belly, that my self-contro; begins to break. Laughter pours from my lips before she even has a chance to touch me.
"Oh dear, aren't you just a sensitive little thing? I didn't even have to touch you and now here you are, giggling like a school girl...truly adorable"
I don't even get a chance to respond before her fingers are scrabbling up and down my exposed belly. It jiggles and shakes under the torment.
"L-Lyra no, p-please there, thehehehere ahaha," I giggle, squirming on the bed as her fingers travel up and down the sides of my belly.
"Oh, darling girl...I think someone loves her tickles," she teases, making my insides squirm.
I can't look in her direction, not now, not with her teasing how much I like it. How every touch to my tummy sends waves of feelings through me. It makes me feel adored...cute even. Though I'd rather cut out my tongue than ever admit that. My eyes are closed so tightly, they may as well be welded shut.
"I-I n-nohoho I dohohont, don't hahaha l-love it"
I squeal, as the evil fingers travel from the sides of my belly to the top. Lyra is not going easy on me. Her tickles change too fast. Before I have a chance to acclimate and brace myself, she shifts her technique, with both fingers poised and taunting.
My eyes widen as her hands grow ever closer to their target. Without another moment of hesitation, she strikes. Her fingers like wicked claws, are grabbing and thrumming against the sensitive squish of my tummy.
I shriek, my hips thrashing under her steel thighs. It's just enough movement to leave her bouncing on top of me, it nearly provides relief, but the places I need her to touch are woefully covered by wool skirts and lace panties.
Lyra takes her time tickling my tummy. It
Is clear that she is enjoying herself, each technique carefully chosen to make my belly tremble and hips squirm under her building enjoyment. Under her fingers, I have no sense of time. Her gasps as she drinks in the ringing laughter may only tell that time is indeed passing.
I break out in heavy belly laughter as she scrabbles and claws over every part of my sensitive stomach. She grabs and kneads at every handful she can manage. Delighting at the gentle giggles it produces. This has certainly been fun, but it has hardly produced the desperation she desires.
"Such a pretty tummy you have dear. It dances so beautifully under my fingers...I wonder what would happen if I did this!"
I scrunch my eyes closed, expecting another barrage on my fatiguing belly, instead, she leans close to me, her lips inches from mine. Her brilliant smile gleams as she holds her kisses like a promise over my head.
"Darling girl...are you flustered? Tired? Does your poor tum need a break," she mewls, her nails trailing spirals along my trembling biceps.
"Please miss, please! K-kiss me...h-haven't I been good?” I keen, desperate for her lips against mine again. She chuckles, pulling away despite my protests.
"Oh no, poor little mouse, so desperate that you forget the one rule I had for you...someone needs a little punishment. I know I said that I wouldn't be using my magic vision...but then you had to be a naughty little mouse." She says, trailing her fingers closer and closer to a spot that will make me scream.
"Kootchie Coo darling...I hope you're ready, you really shouldn't have broken my rules."
"Nonono Lyra PLE-”
She cuts me off, her fingers digging into the core of my underarms. Her fingers grab and kneads, paying focused attention to every spot that makes me scream...and I am definitely screaming. My laughter, bouncing and free when she tickled my belly has turned into frantic cackles as my chest thrashes under her. I am desperate to escape...but it is no use.
"LYRA LYRA AAAHAHAHA PLEHEAAASE I CAN'T- OH GOHOHOD MERCEHEHEHE", I beg, each moment under her touch driving me closer to insanity.
"Looks like I found it little mouse, the spot that makes you squeak. Mmmmm your terror is delicious," she mewls, kissing my neck and ears as she listens to my desperation with a building lust.
Even amidst my screams and cackles, I can't help but moan at her intimate attention. I could have been here five minutes or five hours for how bonkers she makes me. As she begins spidering her fingers against the outer edge of my underarms, towards my breasts and shoulder blades, my screams gentle once again to giggles, she is getting so close to places that will make me melt. It takes all I have not to break down and moan for more.
Her hand pauses over the side of my breasts, hidden by the thin fabric of my tank. I whimper as her nails trail from my underarms to their target.
"Oh bother, it looks like your top is getting in the way," Lyra says with a pout.
"Don't worry darling... I know just the thing", with a single tap, she vanishes my top, leaving me bare for her. My breasts heaving from exertion.
My breath quickens as I feel her heated stare on my naked breasts. This is wrong. It shouldn't turn me on so much to have her attention, and yet, with every moment under her careful appraisal, I feel the heat between my thighs begin to bloom. My nipples ache with the need to be touched. Not enough to make me cum, but a delicious pleasure nonetheless.
"Poor little mouse, it seems I have taken off more than I intended," Lyra says, feigning remorse. I want nothing more than to feel her fingers circle and squeeze my hardened nipples. I arch my back at the thought, inviting the touch I am desperate for. My heart stutters when I feel her whisper against my neck.
"Even without my powers, you are so easy to read love. You're pretty little nipples are just begging for attention aren't they dear.... but you'll just have to wait. You're not nearly desperate enough.
With a peck on my lips, Lyra nestles her face against my neck. An advantageous location to drink in my giggly moans while driving me wild with nibbles and kisses.
Her immaculate nails drag and flutter against the sides of my breasts. Midway between the most ticklish and most erotic spot. A stream of giggles and gasps pour from my mouth. My legs pull at their binds, desperate to rub together for the least bit of friction.
"Ah Ah gohohod hmmm Lyra p-pleeaassee. I-I need m-mercy," I sigh, arching myself into her touch. Her tickles overwhelm me, but it feels too good to pull away.
"Oh poor little mouse. So wound up. So..turned on. I know just the places you really want me to touch you." She says, her left hand trailing down my belly towards my wool skirt. After what feels like hours of thrashing, it has gathered around my waist. I gasp loudly as her hand hovers over my desire.
"Poor poor girl. So desperate...but I will touch you there when I am damn well ready. You haven't been tickled nearly enough to earn that sort of reward, and if you were to cum early without my permission...you really don't want to know what waits for my naughty mouse. Release makes them so sensitive after all.”
I cry as her teasing hand travels back up to my trembling breasts. Her index fingers twirl around their peaks, purposefully avoiding spots that make me moan...at least more than I already am. My breathing comes in gasps as I arch, searching for any sort of stimulation as I can manage.
"I have a fun game little mouse. You are so desperate for my touch here aren't you?" Lyra teases, her fingers lightly brushing against my nipples making me whine at the bare contact.
"I can't just touch your pleasure buttons dear, you haven't nearly earned that. But, if you can stay still and let me play with your cute little underarms, then perhaps I can give you a taste of what you need. Does that sound like a deal?”
I gasp at the thought. To sit still under the torment of one of my torture spots is an impossible proposition, but the promise of her erotic touch is something I simply cannot refuse.
"Y-yes Lyra, please...I'd do anything," I gasp, bracing myself for her onslaught.
With a snap of her fingers, a pair of familiar maroon feathers appear, hovering above my chest. I can't conceal a whimper at the sight...the memory of them caressing my body by his hands. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine James here, dancing the tips of those feathers along the undersides of my toes while Lyra continues her torture of my upper body. I flex my toes at the thought, a movement that does not go unnoticed by Lyra. With a grin, she brushes her lips next to my ear.
"Oh, I know what you really want. Haha such a dirty little girl," she says, giving me no chance to respond. A wave of her hand commands the feathers to begin their slow tease. These feathers. These. Fucking. Feathers. Imbued with his magic, they light up my nerves as their tips and sides glide along my nipples.
"Oh God, James please please it's n-not enough", I moan, unaware of my words, so caught up in the electric sensations.
"You really are a naughty girl aren't you little mouse? Look at you, calling out for another man when I am being so kind to your little love spots." Lyra chuckles, increasing the speed of the evil feathers with a twirl of her finger.
Without another moment of hesitation, Lyra begins my dual torment, spidering her fingers against the backs of my underarms. It's a maddening spot, and even with my body as tense as can be, I cannot help the small twitch of my back at the contact.
The moment I move, the feathers pause in their dance, hanging centimeters above me, lying in wait.
"Poor dear, not even one second into our game and you've already lost. Don't worry, your little pleasure will continue if and when you can muster that legendary control of yours." Lyra teases, her fingers continuing their slow scribble.
With a few deep breaths, I hone my control. I can do this...I need this. Under her perpetual tickles, I somehow manage to still my body long enough to have that delicious touch of his feathers.
The room fills with a symphony of frantic laughter and moans as Lyra and the feathers play together in a practiced duet… As her scrabbling increases, so too does the speed of quills. It is a cycle of torture and bliss. The more I am tickled, the harder it is to stay still. The more I sit still, the greater my bliss.
"Lyraaaa oh god Oh GOD PLEASE!" I scream, as my arousal builds to a breaking point. It's so good, but I am left at the precipice, not able to release without one more touch in a far more intimate place.
As my pleasure builds like a tower of potential energy, the feathers and her fingers begin to slow.
"You poor dear, I think you need a little cool down," Lyra says, slowing her fingers to a gentle pace. It's enough to allow my muscles a brief relaxation, but it comes at a cost. I groan in frustration as the feathers slow their dance to a gentle waltz.
Like the tide, the intensity of our game begins to ebb and flow. She begins with a slow trailing of my underarms, her fingers traveling from the back of my shoulder to the depths of my ticklish destruction. When she is feeling particularly teasing, she may take a brief reprieve from my underarms to spider her fingers along the sides of my breasts, making my eyes cross from the dual erotic sensations, keening embarrassingly loud. I am just glad that it is only the two of us, I shudder to think of someone hearing the sounds of my desperation.
As her fingers speed up, so too do the feathers. The scrabbles against my underarms are unbearable, but I must be good. I must stand still. The torment of my chest is too delicious to miss out on because of my weakness.
It is after the third cycle that I have a revelation. This game...this fucking game is not a reward. Not the kind I am desperate for anyways. My whimpers and moans come in waves, becoming more and more desperate as she leads me to the cusp. It's not enough to cum, to finally bathe in pleasure at her hands. Ever the wicked demon, Lyra brings me to my edge, delighting in the maddening torture. Just when I’m at my breaking point, one touch from bliss, she backs down only to bring me back up.
My mind is swimming with golden pleasure. I feel drunk...desperate. Her touches have me one denial from breaking. It takes everything in me not to thrash in my bonds.
"Lyraaaaa plehehease pleasepleaseplease hahahaha I can't I can't, y-you're going to make me crazehehe," I beg, tears beginning to trail down my face. I am bathed in her touch, and it is electrifying...but there are still parts of me yet to be explored with her fingers, her lips, those vexing feathers.
"Poor little mouse, don't cry darling," she says, wiping the tears from my eyes.
"I will give you what you want soon enough, you've already told me your deepest desires my dear, the moment your delicious laughter met my ears.”
With another snap of her fingers, my bonds are released from the corners of the bed. I sit up, my face a picture of confusion.
"Are we...done already?" I ask, trying and failing to mask the disappointment in my tone.
She shakes her head, a warm chuckle making my heart swoon.
"No little mouse. I haven't nearly had my fill of you, she says, walking to the foot of the bed, she sits on the edge of the bed, her legs spread and fingers beckoning me towards her. With the obedience of a teacher's pet, I crawl towards her in a trance. She pulls me onto the bed with her. My legs and arms wrap around her hips and I relish in the soothing touch. Her nails trace gentle circles on my back and shoulders, a gesture that makes me melt into her embrace.
"There you are, darling girl. Did the big bad demon wear you out?" she teases.
My head nods dumbly, a swirl of arousal leaving my mind a thousand miles away.
"Well, this just won't do. I can't go exhausting my little toy before we're done playing. You were so good after all, such a strong girl enduring my teasing in our last game. I think my little mouse deserves a reward, don't you?”
I respond with a hazy smile and nod, giddy as her lips capture mine in a gentle kiss. I sigh into her embrace. I am in bliss. I follow the meandering speed of her lips, a gentle back and forth of plush lips pressed up against mine, her tongue tenderly exploring my mouth, speeding up as she feels me tremble in her arms.
With no exertion on her part, she lifts me, my legs cradling the thick round of her thigh. I gasp as I feel my pussy, finally getting the pressure it has been begging for.
Her eyes crinkle as she watches me begin to rut against her, lost in kissing up and down her neck, a letter of thanks written in lipstick and teeth marks.
With an unseen smirk, Lyra waves her hands once more, the gilded mirror next to his bedside transported to the foot of the bed, a one-sided voyeur to our pleasure, at least until she snaps her fingers, turning what once was merely a looking glass, into a one way view into our...activities.
She winks into the mirror, knowing that though she and Penny will look and only see their reflection, her little mouse's dear James is in for quite the show.
I melt into her kiss, my breath hitching each time I grind my lacy panties into her thigh. It is so good, and yet...still not enough. Each kiss and gyration drives molten metal through my veins but the gentle pressure only serves to maintain my desperation. I whine into her lips, shaking at the influx of sensations.
"My poor little mouse, so greedy. I give your desperate pussy attention and it's still not enough, is it? For shame little mouse," Lyra tuts, massaging my breasts and delighting in my futile grinding. I can't cum yet, not until she lets me. As much as I want release, I want even more to be obedient for her.
"I-I n-no Lyra, you're so good to me, I want to be good.", I say, desperate for her approval, even if it means I have to stay needy.
"You're such a sweet girl darling," she says, trailing her fingers down my neck, basking in my giggles as she plays my neck and ears like her own personal instrument.
"I think I am not quite done with my games. come here," she says, spinning me until my back is flush with her chest, the silk of her dress clinging to my back, glistening with perspiration.
I cringe as I see myself in the mirror, I have never been confident when it comes to seeing my body, pale as a ghost, soft in places I wish could be flatter, but as I see her adoring eyes looking me up and down, I cannot help but feel cherished. My body may not be perfect, but with her, it could be something to admire. My chest reddens as I am overtaken by blush. I am under her sole attention and no one else's.
My heart skips a beat as I see her fingers trail toward my skirt. With another tap my skirt and panties have vanished, leaving me bare for the mirror. "You're heavenly body has been hidden from me for far too long darling.
“For my next game, I am going to hold you tight as I take you apart. But I will warn you, my love, I do not give pleasure freely, every touch of your love spots comes with a price. Your job is to keep your eyes on this mirror and watch as a beautiful woman is tickled and pleasured until I have had my fill. Now...do we have a deal?”
I am so overwhelmed with lust, that I can do little more than nod, my breath quickening as I feel the familiar embrace of his golden magic encircling my neck with ancient inscriptions like the finest jewelry.
I touch the golden choker, shivering as remnants of my mentor’s magic vibrate against my fingertips. Looking at myself and meeting my eyes is a challenge. A flush of embarrassment flows through me each time I see my face scrunch in pleasure. Lyra is magnificent, captured in her arms like something to be won, it makes my stomach do somersaults.
"Look darling, I have a ticklish little apprentice at my mercy. Be a good girl now, put your hands behind my neck. If you keep them where you're told, maybe I won't be too hard on you for being a greedy mouse." she whispers, her hands hovering above their targets.
I do as she says, bracing myself, but grateful that at least this time I do not have to hold back.
She gives me little time to prepare. Her spidering fingers test each peak and valley of my trembling ribs. I lean my head towards her neck, seeking comfort as she goes in at full force, my bouncing laughter playing out into her ears. With my face so close to hers, I can hear each hitch of her breath as she causes a new stream of laughter.
Lyra, never one for staying in one spot, begins raking up and down my torso, stopping to flutter her tickling fingers when she finds a spot that elicits squeals. She reads me like a piece of sheet music, and it is intoxicating.
Her slow trail down my torso reaches its conclusion as her hands rest against my hips. I begin to thrash against her attention.
"Good little mouse," she coos into my ear. "Looks like I found another spot. Just what should I do?"
She digs her fingers into my hip pockets, mewling as my laughter picks up a terrifying pitch. The closer she gets to my pantyline, the closer I get to losing my last shred of sanity.
"Lyraaaa Oh no, no no no not THERE PLEHEHEHEASE, I-IT'S T-T-TOO-"
"Too what darling?" She cuts me off. "Too sensitive? Poor poor little mouse. Well now I will have to pay more attention won't I? Don't worry, I am sure it will tickle plenty," she taunts.
The moment she traces those cruel nails where my thigh meets my pelvis, I nearly jump out of her embrace, only kept in place by her strong arms.
"LYRA NO NO NO AHAHAHAHA PLE-PLEASE? NOT THEHEHERE OH GOD NOT THERE, I CAN'T TAHAHAKE IHIHIT,".
The sight of my thrashing red face lined with tears sends my senses into a tizzy. It makes me batty to know how much of her attention I have in this moment. To be seen and touched and adored...even if that adoration makes me want to jump out of my skin.
Her nails fingerwalk down my pelvis, getting closer and closer to the spot that will break me under her fingers. Each movement makes my breath catch amidst a cacophony of screams.
"It is quite a happy coincidence that I have two hands darling. It means I can do this," Lyra taunts. Her left fingers slowly circle towards my clit, the right hand never ceasing its torment of my screeching pelvis.
The moment that her finger makes contact, gently massaging the little bundle of nerves, my panicked laughter catches in my throat. The only sound I am capable of at that moment is a slow keen.
"Yes! Yes! Lyraaa It's so goohohohod, p-please d-dohon't stohohop," my giggles have quieted to a gentle flutter. Lyra’s malicious scrabbling has slowed as she hones in on my pleasure.
"You really have been a good little mouse, your laughter will keep me sated for months dear, though I would tickle your adorable body every minute of the day if I could," she says with a smile, getting up from her spot behind me to kneel at my feet.
Her hands stroke my knees and I obediently open for her. Her dark waves billow between my legs.
"M-Miss, You've been so good to me. Y-Y-You certainly don't have to do...this,” I bluster, the name of the act stuck in my mouth. I feel caged by my embarrassment.
"Oh such a polite little mouse, don't worry...I will enjoy this. I am a succubus after all." She says, her voice warm with fondness.
"And one more thing darling."
"Y-yes"
"You'll do well not to break my rule one more time. I assure you, the consequences will not be pleasant...for you anyway," she says, her stern voice doing horrible things to my senses.
She begins with a gentle kiss, the soft jolt sending shivers down my body at the potential.
Lyra does not need a map of my sensitive spots. Not here. Not while her soft tongue teases against my clit, sending shock waves of pleasure throughout my body.
"AHHH YES! YES! RIGHT THERE Ly-Lyra y-you feel so good! P-Please don't s-stop," It is truly a challenge to keep my eyes trained on the mirror, every image of my pleasure reflected at me. I want nothing more than to be good for her. If I am going to play by her rules, I am going to do my damndest to earn my pleasure.
My breathing comes in deep lungfuls. Each exhale is accented with a cry for more. It is embarrassing enough to see my face dizzy with pleasure.
With each pass of her tongue alone, I am brought so close to crashing waves of pleasure that I can hardly stand it. Each breath feels infused with fiery pleasure...I want so badly to break for her.
"L-Lyra I-I'm close! Please, please...I need p-permission." I beg, transfixed by the image of her subtle movements in the looking glass.
With a quick peck, she looks up at me with a smirk, basking in my tears of protest.
"Oh you're just too cute when you're frustrated," she says, her nails lightly scribbling against my inner thigh, making me squeak at the sensitivity.
"I did say that you get you're deepest desire darling, and I meant it. You have been such a good little mouse for me.
"When you imbued my contract, I heard the depths of your soul my dear. I know what you want at the end of all this. I will only ask you this once. I can give you the climax you are desperate for...or I can give you what you desire. The choice...is your's, little mouse,” she says, her hands never ceasing their maddening trail along my inner thighs.
My head is swimming with arousal....and nerves. She couldn't possibly...how would that even be managed? I am too frenzied to think clearly. All I can do is give one more nod, to the demoness whose hands I am placing my pleasure and trust.
"Perfect darling, I knew you'd make the right decision." she smiles,
"Oh, and one more thing," with a snap of her fingers, my shackled wrists and ankles are pulled into place by her cerulean magic. My hands are affixed to the bed next to my hips, each arm stretched out, causing my back to arch. My legs are similarly bound, with my ankles held to the bed, my legs spread wide for her playful attention.
"That's better, all spread out just for me. Wouldn't want you getting shy," she chuckles, laughing at her own joke.
"You've been such a good tickle toy darling. This is your reward. I am going to make you cum for me little mouse. You only have one rule for me, darling. You will tell me when you start getting close...and you will certainly be rewarded."
Lyra does not hesitate. Back on her knees, she plays with my bundle of nerves like it is hers to savor. Her tongue draws firm circles around my clit. I can feel her smile against me as I keen.
I should have known that an orgasm from a tickle demon comes with caveats. Lost in pleasure, I let out a squeak of surprise as her fingers reach up to gently scribble against my pelvis.
"AH AH Lyrahaha! Y-YE-I mean no! Please Lyra, please! It''s t-too much I-hihihi am gon-nna go crazeeee!" What was once soft sighs and smiles, is now a frenzy of noise and sensation.
The intensity of her tongue fucking me sensitizes my skin. Each tickle against my pelvis drives my pleasure higher. It's too much sensation. I can't take it. I'm getting close.
"L-Lyra pleeeaasssee I'm close I'm close"
Her fingers replace her tongue, rolling my clit between them as she smiles.
"I knew you were a tickle slut little mouse, but feeling your pleasure...it's been centuries since I've had a toy with this much tickle lust. Well...I made a promise...I hope you are ready darling"
With a final snap of her fingers, the mirror shatters, and each shard evaporates into iridescent dust floating to the ground like snow. Butterflies erupt in my stomach as I am face to face with the man who haunts my fantasies.
The room is eerily silent. The sounds of my heated gasps fill the space.
My dear mentor, James is frozen in the threshold of his prison. His knuckles are bone white as he grips the gilded frame with every ounce of his strength. For a moment, my heart thunders in terror. I cannot read his expressions, still overcome by the flurry of sensations that ceased not a moment before. Secret desires that I could hardly admit to myself were spread out like a banquet for the one whose admiration I craved the most.
He is affected in a way I could not have imagined in my wildest fantasies. His eyes have darkened with a primal energy that makes me want to run...knowing he would catch me eventually.
Lyra doesn't pause before returning to my torment. Her tongue dances across my clit, and her left-hand digs into my hip pockets. I cannot restrain my moans and laughter, nor can I tear my eyes from the stormy blue glare.
When Lyra's right two fingers enter me, pumping my pussy and teasing me as she flexes her fingers in a come hither motion, ruthlessly massaging my G-spot, I understand our endgame now.
My wide eyes brim with tears as I plead with him.
"Oh god please James Oh god, please can I cum, I-I have been so bad I-haha I-I know that b-but plehehehase, I-I c-can't hold it bahahack m-much longer!”
His eyes swirl with a flurry of emotions. I want to cum so badly, but more than anything, I need him to want it. I need to know that I will break, and it will please him.
His brow furrows, eyes tinted with fury that shouldn't turn me on as much as it does. He takes in my body and my...predicament before he forces his gaze to the ground, teeth worrying at his lips. I see his chest rise and fall in rapid succession. James is redder than I have ever seen him. All of this observed is nearly enough to send me over the edge...but only nearly.
With a huff of resolve, James cools his expression. I whine as every hint of primal passion drains from his face. He examines me with the distance of a scholar, and it makes me want to scream.
Taking in my situation with a calculation that only a master alchemist can have, his next words are delivered in a manner so unaffected, that I would have thought that James was reading a shopping list if I didn't currently have the most beautiful woman in all creation edging my clit like it's her fucking job.
"Oh Penny," he sighs with exasperation, the sound of his slow steps thundering in the silent room. They do not stop until he is standing at my side, looking down on me and my torment. He cards his fingers through my sweat-damp hair and I cannot contain the moan of pleasure that slips from my lips. His fingers tighten in my tresses, pulling my head back until we lock eyes.
"You have been quite the naughty apprentice tonight, dabbling in advanced magic, entering my bedchamber without permission, and now this…”
"A release is a gift to be earned lovely, and you are one step away from the punishment of your life.”
“Lyra!," he says, taking his attention from me for an agonizing moment.
"I want you to keep a steady pace. Our Penny Lee needs to learn the meaning of patience," he smirks, reveling in my pleas for mercy.
"Oh and one more thing Pen," he says with a glint of mischief,
"Cum against my orders and you will be very sorry.”
Lyra looks at me with veiled pity.
"Sorry darling, It can't be helped This is a game just too fun to resist," she says with a knowing smirk. It’s as if this had been her master plan all along. To give me everything I've ever wanted and deny me right as I am on the edge.
She kisses my pussy tenderly as if it were the first time she'd had the pleasure. I sob as the sensation slows down just enough to bring me back from bliss, keeping me stuck near my peak until I am without words.
Lyra's hands hold tighter on my hips as I begin to thrash. I lock eyes with James, his face a mask of cool indifference as begging gibberish tumbles out of my mouth.
If it weren't for his body language, he may have been able to fool me into believing he was back in control. But in this room, he has nowhere to hide. Standing so..close. I can clearly observe how his chest rises and falls with the effort of lust. If I had my wits, I might say the pink of his cheeks is the prettiest color I have ever seen. My darling mentor is turned on...and I can only hope this allows him to be lenient.
I tremble with fear as I feel the pleasure begin to build. I want to be a good apprentice. I want to obey...but how can I when Lyra's fingers and tongue are slowly working in tandem to bring about my destruction? James will ensure that I am punished for my transgressions. It takes everything that I have to hold back.
I bite my lip, stifling laughter and moans as Lyra takes turns sucking my clit and raking her nails against the pits of my knees, a move that has my sounds of desperation broken off by a frenzy of cackles. It truly is a curse that tickling makes me all the more sensitive.
"James James Jahahames pleassee hahave mercehehe. I-I'm sorrehehe. I know wha-at I did was bad!"
Our eyes meet, and I know I am in trouble when I see the hint of a smile.
"My poor dear, you have had it far too easy. I know my apprentice can take more don't you think lovely," he says, reveling in my whimpers as I hear the telltale sound of his snapping fingers near the shell of my ear.
I am in trouble. I am in so much trouble. Yet I do not fully grasp it until I see your pair of maroon quills, a sheen of gold sparkling through their tendrils as they levitate in the air. They make a lazy trail towards my breasts and underarms and I cannot help but tense in my bindings.
"My poor little apprentice. You thought you were getting off scot-free, didn't you? After hours of teasing me with your little show, you thought I would cave to your wishes just like that..."
"I-I didn't mean to tease you, James. P-Please I-I want to be good! I want to follow your rules." I cry, breathing faster and faster as the feathers begin their twisting trail from my underarms to my nipples.
"Oh you better not break my rules Pen, I assure you, Lyra would be more than happy to go along with your punishment regardless of whatever 'pact' you have.
I feel Lyra smile against me, her tongue speeding up against my tortured bundle of nerves. The feathers make their home at the sides of my breasts. They trail in swirling figure eights. It's not fair! With every brush against my underarms, my sighs are broken by cackles, and with every twirl across my nipples, I am pushed closer to disobedience.
"Oh no! No no no no Sir! PLEHEHEHEASEE I-I'M CLOHOHOHOHOSEE HAHAHAHA NOOOOO!"
I scream, desperately jerking my torso away to no avail.
"Don't you dare cum little apprentice," he warns, his breathing hot and heavy in my ear as I am reduced to nothing but the tickling pleasure lighting up my body.
I am close. I am close. I am close, and I cannot hold it back. I must be obedient, but it's too much. Among a cacophony of sensation...I disobey. The screams of my pleasure ring off the walls like church bells ringing.
"SSIR I-I'M SORRY I'M SO-OH GOD", my body trembles with the force of my release. Waves of pleasure crash over me like a tsunami. My pussy clenches around Lyra’s fingers and I cannot help but tremble through the pleasure. She works her fingers in and out of me, prolonging my pleasure until I whimper at the sensitivity. My heavy breathing starts to slow as fingers and feathers retreat from my nipples and pussy. I sigh, my body relaxing into the warm afterglow. I want nothing more than to collapse onto the bed, sandwiched between the two beings that have ensnared me with their affections...but Lyra is not quite done with either of us yet.
As the last tide of pleasure ebbs, leaving my limbs heavy with exhaustion, I am startled by a sudden movement. She lifts me as if I were nothing but a ragdoll, laying me out on the bed once again in that dreaded T position. My wrists are stretched out as if mocking the crucifixion. My legs, tied together and stuck in front of me, may as well be made of cement. I can move my toes in my heels, but a small wiggle is all I can manage.
"Lyra, just what do you have planned old friend?” my mentor says, his eyes twinkling with renewed interest. He takes a step back from the bed, analyzing my new predicament.
"I had the most delightful little plan, my dear professor! It seems that the terms of our little mouse’s contract haven’t quite been met. Since we let you out of that horrible mirror, I thought you might like a chance to join me for a little retribution.” she says to him, her voice dripping with mirth.
The flirtatious smirk widens to a full grin. I feel as if I could be blinded by its radiance, even if the wiggling of his fingers is making my heart stutter.
They slowly make their way towards the foot of the bed, one flanking each side. The pair revels in my renewed panic. I am in deep trouble. I can feel the buzz of sensitivity prickling my skin. It is enough to make the gentlest touch feel like a nightmare...and I have a feeling they won't be gentle. If one tickling demon was bad, two will be my undoing.
James looks towards Lyra, watching her sit next to my trembling feet. Still clad in knee-high socks and heels, they feel naked under the attention. My mentor gently traces his nails down my calf. Satisfaction crosses his face as a choked gasp is trapped in my throat.
" I have one last little game for us little mouse," Lyra says, playfully tugging at the bows on my shoes.
"I know you must be so sensitive for us, but I did say I would be testing out all of your tickle spots didn't I?"
"Please Lyra, y-you don't have to do this! I-I'm sorry I came without permission...I couldn't help it," I blubber, desperate for any sort of mercy.
"Oh darling this isn't a punishment. I am sure you're sweet James will relish in delivering that joy to you later. I am merely collecting on what was promised me. The fact that you are in an oversensitive predicament makes it all the more delicious for me."
"I desperately want to tickle these pretty little feet, but I will offer you a deal. If you can keep me from taking off your shoes using the tips of your toes, then I will let you leave here and be on my merry way. If you fail, however,... dear James and I will be having our way with these adorable soles until I have had my fill.”
I tense my feet as tight as I can manage. With the opening of each strap, Lyra gently tugs at the heels, leaving them dandling off of my toes like a stone waiting to drop.
"Poor little apprentice, you're shaking like a leaf," James teases, running a single nail down the inner edge of my right foot, a thin sock my only protection.
I squeak. My whole body jerks at the contact, my heels sliding further off my feet. In a desperate move, I wiggle and clench my toes in the futile hope that I can shimmy them back on. Lyra however, has spotted a crack in my armor. I shriek as she scrabbles both hands on the exposed arch of my right foot.
Amidst such torment, I can not help but thrash, a mistake that will be my undoing. I shake in my bindings as I hear my shoes fall to the floor with an ominous thud.
"Oh look, our little mouse has lost the wager..." Lyra drawls, each word slipping off her tongue like molasses. I nearly hyperventilate as she divests me of my socks, leaving my oversensitive soles painfully exposed.
"Look at these James," she coos, "Bare and begging for attention...now where do I start?”
“Slow down darling,” he smirks, his eyes trailing up and down trembling pink soles.
“Let’s savor our poor girl’s torment. You certainly don’t want her wearing out when the real fun is just starting.”
Following his lead, Lyra begins with a gentleness that surprises me. Using just one dark lacquered nail, she rakes a slow line down my arch.
So soon after cumming, even a feather-light touch enough to send me into a fit of giggles.
"Lyrahaha oh god oh god!" I beg.
I wiggle my feet in a vain attempt to protect them, but my squirming only intensifies the shocks of sensation.
"My darling girl, that laughter is...delectable." she mewls, her nail never ceasing its meandering trail along my right foot.
"Now just where should I start first? There truly are so many options little mouse and I want to try them all.”, she looks across at James, clearing her throat and startling him out of his adoring focus.
“What do you think, Professor? Or are you too busy studying my work to be of use?" Lyra asks, her tone laced with humor.
James hesitates, his eyes locked on my predicament. His face burns with flushing heat, and his hands tremble above my toes. They flex, inviting him to touch. I am never this bold, but I would do anything to feel the skill of his touch. I have never seen so affected before, and I would sell my soul to see it again and again. As much as I want to escape this oversensitive hell, knowing that I make him feel, I make him want…that one fact makes Lyra's nails a tiny bit more bearable.
“My dear master, are you going to just gawk, or are you going to join me in breaking our pet? It’s hardly easy torturing both feet at once darling,” she teases, gesturing towards my squirming left foot.
He nods, kneeling on the plush carpet until he is at eye level with his prize. I expected feathers and nails with a ferocity that destroys me, but nothing could have prepared me for his chosen torture. With a lustful smile, he leans in softly, beginning my torment with a single kiss. His soft lips brush the sensitive skin once, then twice continuing at a sadistic tempo until I am shivering under his gentle attention. It tickles. God, it tickles. But even so, I cannot stop the renewed fire that burns through me, drenching my **** and cracking my sensibilities. Withholding sounds of my pleasure is a fool's errand at this point. A stream of moans pours from my lips, and I am powerless to stop it.
“Ple-Please Sir, more. This is torture”, I cry.
A devilish grin crosses Lyra’s face.
“Do you hear that professor? Our little pet wants more torture”,
I eat my words the moment they pass my lips. Sharing a devilish grin, James and Lyra go in for the kill. With an unbelievable synchronicity, my tormentors bend my toes back. Lyra and James rake their fingers up and down my soles with a speed that sends electricity shooting up my spine. They vary their technique, never staying in one spot or pattern long enough to acclimate. From slow rakes to rapid scribbles, they keep me on the edge of hysteria.
A poor girl can only take so much. It does not take more than a minute of their evil ministrations for me to truly crack. Gone are the soft giggles and feminine laughter. All that is left in its place is the sound of screams and frantic moans.
"AAAAAHH LYRAHAHAHA PLEHAHAHESE STOP!", I beg, my mind melting from the overwhelming rush of ticklish torture.
"Sweet little mouse, you can't mean that. How could you want me to stop with a pretty smile like that?", she taunts.
With each stroke of his nails, I see his fervor build. His eyes have taken on a crazed look, studying every twitch and clench of my feet. It makes me wish it were just the two of us. The picture of perfect submission, I’d be at his mercy, and if my fantasies were to be fulfilled, he’d be desperate to get his fill of my torture.
Never losing focus, Lyra begins circling her nails around the ball of my foot. A spot I didn't expect to be so sensitive, It makes tears trail down my cheeks. Each time a new spot lights up my body, Lyra sighs, my torment affecting her in ways that give me butterflies.
"Oh sweet mouse, another spot...I wonder how many I can find," she mewls.
"Please please plehehehase Lyraaaaa I-I c-cant hahahahaha wh-what do you wahahahant?"
Her fingers pause for the briefest moment, giving me time to catch my bearing. My throat is raw from hours of panicked laughter and there is no end in sight.
"Oh mouse, I don't think you are quite broken enough for my intentions," she says, her fingers lightly trailing both soles as James takes a step back to admire my torment in full view. My breath hitches in response. It is just enough sensation to cloud my mind without sending me into a frenzy.
When I have recovered to her liking, Lyra sets to breaking me. With a practiced ease, she scribbles her nails on both of my feet in tandem. The dual sensation sends shockwaves of ticklish terror throughout my body. My legs jolt in response. I wriggle and clench my feet but it is no use. With every pass of her well-manicured nails, my cackles increase in volume. She pays focused attention to my arches. It is my worst spot after all, and she uses that to her every advantage.
My eyes go in and out of focus. Flurries of sensation cloud my mind with a haze of delicious torture. I cannot speak. My tongue is glued to the floor of my mouth. All I can do is feel my mind spiral with each new spot discovered.
This is worse than anything I have ever experienced. My nerves are on edge from my release, each touch sends fireworks to my brain and I am caught deaf and dumb by the explosions.
When she pulls back my toes, her fingers dance along their inner joints...and I crumble. My screaming giggles reduce to quiet huffs as my voice burns from exertion. Everything is blurry, and my eyes are unable to focus clearly. My beloved James, red as a cherry, may as well be a blur amidst my fatigue.
I manage one last please before Lyra finally relents.
"There's a good mouse. You did so well for me, didn’t you? I haven’t been this sated in centuries”, she croons, lovingly massaging each limb as her enchantments are released. I nod dumbly, floating too high to give any sort of response. I would do just about anything for this woman in the state she has me. How lucky am I, that my tormentors have turned from torture to meticulous care.
James pulls back the velvet quilt, draping me in its warm embrace. His eyes are caught in a moment of bare tenderness as he tucks my disheveled hair behind my ear. I feel the hours of tension flow from me as the pair surround me with gentle affection. With heavy-lidded eyes, I lean into their warmth, cradling me on both sides of the bed. As I drift off, I hear the honey whispers of my dear mentor, too far gone to fully comprehend their meaning.
“You were a masterpiece tonight. Sleep well my darling, we’ll have much to discuss in the morning, you are ours now after all…if you’ll have us.”
Master James, an alchemical genius and my mentor has already chastised me once for reading ahead.
My toes clench as I remember the caress of his soft feathers. The feeling of his magic taking control. By midnight tears were running down my smiling face. It was torture...and I haven't stopped dreaming of it since. I rub my thighs together at the memory of his attention.
These last few weeks I have tried to get his evil eyes on me again to no avail. My skirts have been shortened. My usual oxfords and boots have been abandoned for heels that expose my feet for his roaming looks. I have practically served myself on a silver platter…and he seems entirely unruffled.
Today I sauntered into work dressed as risqué as I dare. I am stuck on my tiptoes, in dark leather pumps accentuated with satin bows near the points of my feet.
In a fit of self-consciousness, I flatten out my wool skirt. It’s a grey tartan that barely grazes my knees. It’s been hours since I gave up on decorum and stripped off my wool cardigan after hours of toiling in our hot hell of a workshop. In just a lacy cream camisole, skirt, and heels, I feel embarrassingly exposed.
Freckles dance down my neck and arms in all the places I would delight in his touch. Just the thought nearly makes me collapse into mortifying giggles.
I’d hoped to see those mercurial eyes linger on my body, but it's no use. He is either distracted or disinterested. It’s become painfully clear that to hold a candle for him is an exercise in heartache.
I should be more cautious with my heart. I know that, but his guarded affection draws me in like a moth to a flame.
I am restless. Master James told me to pace myself. Tampering with unfamiliar magic is a recipe for trouble. But still...my fingers twitch as I remember the feeling of pure power coursing up my arm. I am desperate to feel it again. Perhaps that makes me a misbehaving apprentice, but I truly cannot help myself.
Since my last..excursion into unknown magicks, my dear master no longer keeps his advanced texts loose around the shop.
I watch him constantly. Seeing my master in his element fills me with desire. It’s not appropriate apprentice behavior, but I can’t help myself. I admired him for so long that I know exactly where to look for those hidden tomes. He always goes into his upstairs apartment to complete advanced spells or concoctions. Not that I have been spying…certainly not.
Master James has been out of the shop for over an hour. If I am quick and careful, I can sneak in, copy a spell onto the back of today's assignment, and be back at my desk before he returns.
Without a preamble, I roll up my parchment. I place a quill lovingly in my copper hair. It’s tied back in a low bun with loose tresses framing my face.
I’m all alone, yet I can't help but tiptoe up the stairs, hesitating as I reach the heavy oak door.
With a measured breath, I steel myself. The chill of the door knob does nothing to cool the nervous heat coursing throughout me. I really shouldn't be here, this is a dangerous idea.
With a slow creak, I glimpse a space so lived in that it tugs at my heart.
The sitting room is lined with books from floor to ceiling. Tomes both ancient and new, fill the room with the scent of leather and aging parchment. With every deep inhale, I want to melt.
I search the shelves high and low, my fingers tracing the ridges and valleys of tooled leather as I search for the perfect spell. I want something that strengthens or challenges me, and if I cannot find that...a spell to keep me company on this lonely night.
It's no use. His spell books have to be somewhere. Expertise like his always has a source, and where else would he disappear to? There must be more. It doesn’t make sense for such a powerful man to surround himself with paltry fiction.
The rest of his apartment is spotless without a book in sight. That leaves just one place to look...and my face burns at the thought.
At the end of the hallway is a door. It sits past a long row of shelves filled with bottles of every hue. They glitter like jewels in the firelight. I walk with hesitant footsteps, the wooden floors creaking with every move.
I burn at the sight of his bed chamber. As I walk in, dozens of candles erupt in an ephemeral glow. They fill the room with gentle light and the soft hum of magic.
The walls are lined with sconces. Each burns with a golden heatless flame, fluttering like feathers in the wind.
In a fit of curiosity, I hold my hand over a candlestick. I gently lower my palm to the flickering light until I feel a ticklish caress against my hand.
I stifle my voice, giggling as I keep my palm over the magic light. My head spins at the mix of magic, tickles, and his heady scent.
My eyes trail lazily around the room, almost drunk. It is artfully decorated. Bathed in candlelight, the room is practical without being spartan. A large canopy bed draped with dark velvet serves as the centerpiece of the space.
In the corner of the room lies a single bookshelf spanning from floor to ceiling. The shelves are filled to the brim with jars of unknown substances and dozens of books. A closer look at their embossed titles makes my face burn with embarrassment. Maybe I shouldn't have come here. This was a terrible idea.
With a sigh I stand up, preparing to make my way back to my desk when a loud clunk catches my attention.
Across the room, at the foot of the shelf, a familiar book lies open. Master James’ family grimoire, a tome rarely seen out of his competent hands. The memory of his golden power surging through my fingertips takes my breath away. I've already gone through several of those spells unsuccessfully...and was thoroughly punished for it. The wise choice would be to head back...at the same time...how foolish would it be to leave a priceless grimoire open on the bedroom floor?
Without another thought, I kneel down on the floor, my skirt bunching around my thighs.
The cobalt leather is soft, worn by centuries of careful study. My fingers thrum with potential energy as they stroke the ornate emblem on the cover. I shiver, looking down for the briefest moment at the scrawling calligraphy, the language bizarre and unrecognizable.
At the sight of James’s writing, my mind travels to an impossible scene. Tied to the bed as he takes great care to scribble each indiscretion onto my skin, the ink stains like shadows on my lily-white belly. I really have been a naughty apprentice...and his torture is the key to my absolution.
His handwriting, usually so neat and elegant, would be made messy by the trembling of my belly. Ink would drip down my sides in slow rivulets, one handwriting a list of misbehaviors, the other squeezing and scrabbling against my soft thighs and hips. No amount of apologies would save me from his discipline...and I'd love every minute.
My breath quickens as I feel warmth build between my thighs. The image is tantalizing...I almost yearn to be discovered, to see heat flare behind that cool exterior, even if that heat is of disapproval.
Though the symbols on the page are unrecognizable to me, I see magic shimmer across them, sending shivers up my arm.
In an instant, I am compelled. A teasing angelic wink flashes behind my eyes. It is unfamiliar, but it makes me burn. Without another thought, I grab the spare parchment and carefully copy the ancient writing as neatly as possible with my shaking hands.
Taking great effort to copy sweeping loops and turns, his family magic entwines with my own like an embrace of gold and silver.
I finish the final symbol with a flick of ink. The second my quill leaves the page, I am mystified by the scene unfolding before me.
One by one, the symbols lift off the page, turning from an otherworldly script to amorphous blobs of ink. They begin gently swirling in a cyclone around the parchment. Wonderous laughter escapes my lips. The currents of pitch orbit slow and steady until the moment joyful noise rings in the air.
As if touched by an unseen power, the orbs speed up, the ink trailing behind them like shadowy comets.
My eyes twinkle, erupting in light. Beams of gold and silver spinning faster and faster. The grand spectacle of a meteor shower dances before me in celestial wonder and I..am in awe.
In a trance, I gingerly reach out my hand.
“Just a touch, that's all you need”, my voice whispers inside, unfamiliar and still my own.
“One touch lovely and you'll have it...the attention you desperately crave,” the unseen voice coos.
With the whispering caress of a familiar voice, the dam breaks. My hand plunges into liquid light. I am not thinking of my safety, but rather, enthralled by my deepest desires. Gilted promises pull at me like welcomed shackles leading me to an unknown fate.
Drunk on the magic coursing through my veins, ivory skin glimmering with a mixed metal web of power. It's intoxicating, like the sweetest of wine. It warms me until my eyes glow with heterochromatic magic circling my irises.
A soft hand clasps mine, as I blink away the celestial light. I am brought to my feet by an unseen figure, but it is not until my brief blindness fades that my predicament is understood. It’s … a woman. She stares down at me with a smirk and cool confidence.
The woman is a picture of timeless beauty. Her svelte figure is accentuated by dark silk that clings to every inch of her body and leaves my mouth dry at the sight.
As if spun by magic itself, the thin inky gossamer wraps around her from knees to collarbone like an embrace, the fabric ending in flowing sleeves just before her wrist. It's just sheer enough to tease...but not nearly enough to satiate my growing need to see or touch the holy figure in front of me.
I study her body in wonder, admiring along warm tawny curves until at last, our eyes meet. Her gaze sparkles with mischief, irises swirl like pools of molten amber. Soft waves of ebony hair cascade down her shoulders, shining like glass.
She smiles, glancing up and down, taking me in and searching for...something. Self-conscious of her leering, I straighten my skirt, still on my knees before her ethereal beauty.
I don’t know what spell was cast or who this picture of perfection is before me, but I am entranced, kneeling before her like a faithful supplicant before an altar. Surely this creature must be a goddess...and I Surely have fucked up...monumentally.
She brings me to my feet. I am nearly a head shorter than this goddess, made even taller by a pair of strappy stilettos. She gently grasps my chin, forcing me to look up. Her appraisals make my knees wobble.
"Oh dear, I see a little mouse out of her depth. What is a pretty thing like you doing, summoning a big bad monster," she coos, her other hand gently drawing circles on my neck.
" I-I didn't I-I mean," I stutter, my tongue like lead in my mouth. Her teasing sends me to a whirlwind of heat and I can't string together a coherent thought, let alone speak it.
"Y-Y-You what darling, didn't mean to summon me? Oh, I know little mouse. Usually, only Master James would have enough power to summon me, but when I heard that delicious laughter of yours...well, I had to have a taste," she says.
Her right-hand dances along the side of my body until she settles her searching nails against my sides, exposed as my camisole has ridden up in the commotion.
At the first contact of her scrabbling nails, a stream of laughter spills from my lips. Her touch is slow, searching for every hitch of my breath, every change in sensitivity.
"Oh lovely, I think I found a ticklish little mouse. It seems my old friend has been holding out on me," she says, her voice tinted with heat. Every ring of my laughter raises a soft pink blush to her cheeks.
"O-old friend?! W-what? Hahahaha n-no I-I dohohon't understahahahand," I force out, trying and failing to conceal my laughter with every word.
"Oh dear, didn't you know...I have a sort of arrangement with your beloved master. I provide magical assistance on occasion. In return, he provides me with cute little playthings to tickle until I am satisfied."
"Playthings?!," I squeak, the thought of being hers...it intrigues me more than it should.
"Oh they're all willing I assure you. I make sure my toys are treated well," she whispers in my ear. The gentle caress sends shivers of arousal down my spine.
Her fingers trail slowly under my shirt, rhythmically tapping against each of my ribs and I squeal. Her gentlest of touches sends me into fits of soft giggles.
She moans into my ear, her fingers speeding up as my laughter becomes more frantic. A torturous cycle of crescendos with her touch, my mania, and her obvious pleasure.
"Mihihihihissss, p-pleeaassseee hahaha wh-what do you wahahant," I laugh, my body thrashing in her arms, trying in vain to protect the targets of her torment.
"Oh little mouse, someone's enjoying themselves," she teases. "All that thrashing and you aren't really trying to escape, are you doll?”
Her arms encircle my waist pulling me flush against her chest. Hands lay like a promise near my underarms. Her ruby lips are inches from mine. I want her, I want this, but I could never ask for that. With every shock of sensation, I feel myself giving over to her. My laughter quenching her thirst like an icy spring.
"You know darling...typically my contract with James is ongoing...but tonight...you did such a good job copying down that spell. Usually, just a simple rewrite wouldn't be enough. The pact I have with his bloodline is immensely strong...but a cute little thing like you...I couldn't resist." She says, dragging her nail against the sensitive place just underneath my chin. With a kiss on my cheek, she continues.
"You see, I heard your laughter dear one. For a tickle succubus like myself, a laugh like yours is sweeter than honey, and I just had to have you. With your adorable laugh and your signature, I am yours for the night...and you...are mine."
Without hesitation she closes the gap between us, taking my lips as if they had always been hers. She is so warm, her lips plush against mine. Of course, I have been kissed before. A scant series of disappointing fumbles behind library shelves.
But this woman...she kisses me with such force that I cannot help but follow. I feel her tongue caress my bottom lip, a teasing invitation that I am happy to accept.
With a smirk, she pulls away, delighting in my groans of protest.
"You're too precious little mouse. To think I would cave to your building want that easy. So naive of you dear."
I whimper as she trails her lips down my neck, leaving me desperate for more.
"P-please miss-"
"Lyra," she says, cutting off my begging mid-word.
Feeling her breath caress my ear in a whisper breaks my closely held composure.
"If you're going to be moaning something love, it damn well better be my name," she says, making me keen as she licks and nibbles at the tip of my ear.
I cry out at the attention. The heat building inside my core is unbearable.
"Lyra, Lyra, Lyra!", I beg, my hands wrapped tightly around her waist as if holding her as close as possible would grant me the pleasure my body is screaming for.
All at once her touches cease. I cry in protest as she disentangles from me, holding only my hand at a truly horrible distance.
Without any preamble, she leads me to his bed. Artfully arranging me, I see a look of planning cross her features.
My arms are gently placed near each corner of the bed with my legs straight towards the foot of the bed. When she is done with me, I am spread out in the shape of a T on a bed I certainly shouldn’t be on. She climbs onto me, her strong thighs caging my hips under her.
"Ah-ah Lyra p-please", I cry. Her lips trail down my arm with devoted care.
"Hush dear," she says, quieting my sounds of protest.
"Here’s how it is going to go love," she whispers, her fingers twirling the wisps of hair at my temple.
"You have unwittingly signed a quid pro quo agreement my love. Tonight, I will fulfill a fantasy of yours, wreck your body with pleasure...and in return. You will allow me to tickle you to tears," she says, her voice teasing and hot against my skin.
I give no thought to the implications of my actions as I nod my head in agreement. That small movement was all that it took to seal my fate. With a wave of her hand, sparks of crystal blue magic flow from her fingertips. They encircle my wrists in crystalline shackles, icy blue and comfortable against my delicate skin.
"Here’s how it's going to go, little mouse. I have the power to sense your, shall we say, vulnerabilities. Where they are, how sensitive, and how...arousing. But tonight I will not be relying on my powers," she says, trailing her nails up and down my sides. I bite my tongue, determined not to laugh for her.
"Tonight, I am going to test every one of your tickle spots just to see what I find. Each time I make you laugh, I get a little feast until I get my fill. If you are a good little mouse...I will give you what you most desire. How does that sound my love?”
A shiver travels up my spine. I can’t get the words to form on my tongue; that I want this, I’ve dreamed of it, but I could never ask. Not even for the aphroditic beauty teasing my neck in slow spirals.
Reading the silence, and the heat gathering between my thighs, the demoness has made my decision for me.
“Looks like my meek little mouse is more eager than she lets on…” Lyra teases, her whispers against my ears sending me haywire.
“Now the only question is…where should I start?”
I relax on the bed, my heart singing with joy at the thought of her game. Of course, I want her gentle touches all over my body. I'd like nothing more than to be granted sweet release, but to be at her mercy tickled endlessly with no escape, that is true bliss.
At the end of our ordeal, Lyra won't be able to offer me my deepest desire, that is not something I can say out loud, but perhaps if I follow along with her little game, I will get what I need. A night being tickled by one of the most gorgeous creatures I have ever come in contact with.
"I think I know what I'll do first," Lyra says in a sing-song tone.
She bounces her pointer finger from place to place. Gently tapping a spot on my upper body In a seemingly random pattern, poking at my waist, my belly, and my neck in quick succession. Thankfully, it is not enough to break my self-control. Her touches are light. They tease my skin, Leaving me vibrating in my bonds as I am subjected to her searching fingers.
With each brush of her nails, I march closer to my body’s betrayal.
"You are being such a strong little apprentice...and that just won't do," Lyra purrs. Getting up from the bed. She looks down at me with an ominous glee.
It is the moment she begins to wiggle her fingers right above my belly, that my self-contro; begins to break. Laughter pours from my lips before she even has a chance to touch me.
"Oh dear, aren't you just a sensitive little thing? I didn't even have to touch you and now here you are, giggling like a school girl...truly adorable"
I don't even get a chance to respond before her fingers are scrabbling up and down my exposed belly. It jiggles and shakes under the torment.
"L-Lyra no, p-please there, thehehehere ahaha," I giggle, squirming on the bed as her fingers travel up and down the sides of my belly.
"Oh, darling girl...I think someone loves her tickles," she teases, making my insides squirm.
I can't look in her direction, not now, not with her teasing how much I like it. How every touch to my tummy sends waves of feelings through me. It makes me feel adored...cute even. Though I'd rather cut out my tongue than ever admit that. My eyes are closed so tightly, they may as well be welded shut.
"I-I n-nohoho I dohohont, don't hahaha l-love it"
I squeal, as the evil fingers travel from the sides of my belly to the top. Lyra is not going easy on me. Her tickles change too fast. Before I have a chance to acclimate and brace myself, she shifts her technique, with both fingers poised and taunting.
My eyes widen as her hands grow ever closer to their target. Without another moment of hesitation, she strikes. Her fingers like wicked claws, are grabbing and thrumming against the sensitive squish of my tummy.
I shriek, my hips thrashing under her steel thighs. It's just enough movement to leave her bouncing on top of me, it nearly provides relief, but the places I need her to touch are woefully covered by wool skirts and lace panties.
Lyra takes her time tickling my tummy. It
Is clear that she is enjoying herself, each technique carefully chosen to make my belly tremble and hips squirm under her building enjoyment. Under her fingers, I have no sense of time. Her gasps as she drinks in the ringing laughter may only tell that time is indeed passing.
I break out in heavy belly laughter as she scrabbles and claws over every part of my sensitive stomach. She grabs and kneads at every handful she can manage. Delighting at the gentle giggles it produces. This has certainly been fun, but it has hardly produced the desperation she desires.
"Such a pretty tummy you have dear. It dances so beautifully under my fingers...I wonder what would happen if I did this!"
I scrunch my eyes closed, expecting another barrage on my fatiguing belly, instead, she leans close to me, her lips inches from mine. Her brilliant smile gleams as she holds her kisses like a promise over my head.
"Darling girl...are you flustered? Tired? Does your poor tum need a break," she mewls, her nails trailing spirals along my trembling biceps.
"Please miss, please! K-kiss me...h-haven't I been good?” I keen, desperate for her lips against mine again. She chuckles, pulling away despite my protests.
"Oh no, poor little mouse, so desperate that you forget the one rule I had for you...someone needs a little punishment. I know I said that I wouldn't be using my magic vision...but then you had to be a naughty little mouse." She says, trailing her fingers closer and closer to a spot that will make me scream.
"Kootchie Coo darling...I hope you're ready, you really shouldn't have broken my rules."
"Nonono Lyra PLE-”
She cuts me off, her fingers digging into the core of my underarms. Her fingers grab and kneads, paying focused attention to every spot that makes me scream...and I am definitely screaming. My laughter, bouncing and free when she tickled my belly has turned into frantic cackles as my chest thrashes under her. I am desperate to escape...but it is no use.
"LYRA LYRA AAAHAHAHA PLEHEAAASE I CAN'T- OH GOHOHOD MERCEHEHEHE", I beg, each moment under her touch driving me closer to insanity.
"Looks like I found it little mouse, the spot that makes you squeak. Mmmmm your terror is delicious," she mewls, kissing my neck and ears as she listens to my desperation with a building lust.
Even amidst my screams and cackles, I can't help but moan at her intimate attention. I could have been here five minutes or five hours for how bonkers she makes me. As she begins spidering her fingers against the outer edge of my underarms, towards my breasts and shoulder blades, my screams gentle once again to giggles, she is getting so close to places that will make me melt. It takes all I have not to break down and moan for more.
Her hand pauses over the side of my breasts, hidden by the thin fabric of my tank. I whimper as her nails trail from my underarms to their target.
"Oh bother, it looks like your top is getting in the way," Lyra says with a pout.
"Don't worry darling... I know just the thing", with a single tap, she vanishes my top, leaving me bare for her. My breasts heaving from exertion.
My breath quickens as I feel her heated stare on my naked breasts. This is wrong. It shouldn't turn me on so much to have her attention, and yet, with every moment under her careful appraisal, I feel the heat between my thighs begin to bloom. My nipples ache with the need to be touched. Not enough to make me cum, but a delicious pleasure nonetheless.
"Poor little mouse, it seems I have taken off more than I intended," Lyra says, feigning remorse. I want nothing more than to feel her fingers circle and squeeze my hardened nipples. I arch my back at the thought, inviting the touch I am desperate for. My heart stutters when I feel her whisper against my neck.
"Even without my powers, you are so easy to read love. You're pretty little nipples are just begging for attention aren't they dear.... but you'll just have to wait. You're not nearly desperate enough.
With a peck on my lips, Lyra nestles her face against my neck. An advantageous location to drink in my giggly moans while driving me wild with nibbles and kisses.
Her immaculate nails drag and flutter against the sides of my breasts. Midway between the most ticklish and most erotic spot. A stream of giggles and gasps pour from my mouth. My legs pull at their binds, desperate to rub together for the least bit of friction.
"Ah Ah gohohod hmmm Lyra p-pleeaassee. I-I need m-mercy," I sigh, arching myself into her touch. Her tickles overwhelm me, but it feels too good to pull away.
"Oh poor little mouse. So wound up. So..turned on. I know just the places you really want me to touch you." She says, her left hand trailing down my belly towards my wool skirt. After what feels like hours of thrashing, it has gathered around my waist. I gasp loudly as her hand hovers over my desire.
"Poor poor girl. So desperate...but I will touch you there when I am damn well ready. You haven't been tickled nearly enough to earn that sort of reward, and if you were to cum early without my permission...you really don't want to know what waits for my naughty mouse. Release makes them so sensitive after all.”
I cry as her teasing hand travels back up to my trembling breasts. Her index fingers twirl around their peaks, purposefully avoiding spots that make me moan...at least more than I already am. My breathing comes in gasps as I arch, searching for any sort of stimulation as I can manage.
"I have a fun game little mouse. You are so desperate for my touch here aren't you?" Lyra teases, her fingers lightly brushing against my nipples making me whine at the bare contact.
"I can't just touch your pleasure buttons dear, you haven't nearly earned that. But, if you can stay still and let me play with your cute little underarms, then perhaps I can give you a taste of what you need. Does that sound like a deal?”
I gasp at the thought. To sit still under the torment of one of my torture spots is an impossible proposition, but the promise of her erotic touch is something I simply cannot refuse.
"Y-yes Lyra, please...I'd do anything," I gasp, bracing myself for her onslaught.
With a snap of her fingers, a pair of familiar maroon feathers appear, hovering above my chest. I can't conceal a whimper at the sight...the memory of them caressing my body by his hands. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine James here, dancing the tips of those feathers along the undersides of my toes while Lyra continues her torture of my upper body. I flex my toes at the thought, a movement that does not go unnoticed by Lyra. With a grin, she brushes her lips next to my ear.
"Oh, I know what you really want. Haha such a dirty little girl," she says, giving me no chance to respond. A wave of her hand commands the feathers to begin their slow tease. These feathers. These. Fucking. Feathers. Imbued with his magic, they light up my nerves as their tips and sides glide along my nipples.
"Oh God, James please please it's n-not enough", I moan, unaware of my words, so caught up in the electric sensations.
"You really are a naughty girl aren't you little mouse? Look at you, calling out for another man when I am being so kind to your little love spots." Lyra chuckles, increasing the speed of the evil feathers with a twirl of her finger.
Without another moment of hesitation, Lyra begins my dual torment, spidering her fingers against the backs of my underarms. It's a maddening spot, and even with my body as tense as can be, I cannot help the small twitch of my back at the contact.
The moment I move, the feathers pause in their dance, hanging centimeters above me, lying in wait.
"Poor dear, not even one second into our game and you've already lost. Don't worry, your little pleasure will continue if and when you can muster that legendary control of yours." Lyra teases, her fingers continuing their slow scribble.
With a few deep breaths, I hone my control. I can do this...I need this. Under her perpetual tickles, I somehow manage to still my body long enough to have that delicious touch of his feathers.
The room fills with a symphony of frantic laughter and moans as Lyra and the feathers play together in a practiced duet… As her scrabbling increases, so too does the speed of quills. It is a cycle of torture and bliss. The more I am tickled, the harder it is to stay still. The more I sit still, the greater my bliss.
"Lyraaaa oh god Oh GOD PLEASE!" I scream, as my arousal builds to a breaking point. It's so good, but I am left at the precipice, not able to release without one more touch in a far more intimate place.
As my pleasure builds like a tower of potential energy, the feathers and her fingers begin to slow.
"You poor dear, I think you need a little cool down," Lyra says, slowing her fingers to a gentle pace. It's enough to allow my muscles a brief relaxation, but it comes at a cost. I groan in frustration as the feathers slow their dance to a gentle waltz.
Like the tide, the intensity of our game begins to ebb and flow. She begins with a slow trailing of my underarms, her fingers traveling from the back of my shoulder to the depths of my ticklish destruction. When she is feeling particularly teasing, she may take a brief reprieve from my underarms to spider her fingers along the sides of my breasts, making my eyes cross from the dual erotic sensations, keening embarrassingly loud. I am just glad that it is only the two of us, I shudder to think of someone hearing the sounds of my desperation.
As her fingers speed up, so too do the feathers. The scrabbles against my underarms are unbearable, but I must be good. I must stand still. The torment of my chest is too delicious to miss out on because of my weakness.
It is after the third cycle that I have a revelation. This game...this fucking game is not a reward. Not the kind I am desperate for anyways. My whimpers and moans come in waves, becoming more and more desperate as she leads me to the cusp. It's not enough to cum, to finally bathe in pleasure at her hands. Ever the wicked demon, Lyra brings me to my edge, delighting in the maddening torture. Just when I’m at my breaking point, one touch from bliss, she backs down only to bring me back up.
My mind is swimming with golden pleasure. I feel drunk...desperate. Her touches have me one denial from breaking. It takes everything in me not to thrash in my bonds.
"Lyraaaaa plehehease pleasepleaseplease hahahaha I can't I can't, y-you're going to make me crazehehe," I beg, tears beginning to trail down my face. I am bathed in her touch, and it is electrifying...but there are still parts of me yet to be explored with her fingers, her lips, those vexing feathers.
"Poor little mouse, don't cry darling," she says, wiping the tears from my eyes.
"I will give you what you want soon enough, you've already told me your deepest desires my dear, the moment your delicious laughter met my ears.”
With another snap of her fingers, my bonds are released from the corners of the bed. I sit up, my face a picture of confusion.
"Are we...done already?" I ask, trying and failing to mask the disappointment in my tone.
She shakes her head, a warm chuckle making my heart swoon.
"No little mouse. I haven't nearly had my fill of you, she says, walking to the foot of the bed, she sits on the edge of the bed, her legs spread and fingers beckoning me towards her. With the obedience of a teacher's pet, I crawl towards her in a trance. She pulls me onto the bed with her. My legs and arms wrap around her hips and I relish in the soothing touch. Her nails trace gentle circles on my back and shoulders, a gesture that makes me melt into her embrace.
"There you are, darling girl. Did the big bad demon wear you out?" she teases.
My head nods dumbly, a swirl of arousal leaving my mind a thousand miles away.
"Well, this just won't do. I can't go exhausting my little toy before we're done playing. You were so good after all, such a strong girl enduring my teasing in our last game. I think my little mouse deserves a reward, don't you?”
I respond with a hazy smile and nod, giddy as her lips capture mine in a gentle kiss. I sigh into her embrace. I am in bliss. I follow the meandering speed of her lips, a gentle back and forth of plush lips pressed up against mine, her tongue tenderly exploring my mouth, speeding up as she feels me tremble in her arms.
With no exertion on her part, she lifts me, my legs cradling the thick round of her thigh. I gasp as I feel my pussy, finally getting the pressure it has been begging for.
Her eyes crinkle as she watches me begin to rut against her, lost in kissing up and down her neck, a letter of thanks written in lipstick and teeth marks.
With an unseen smirk, Lyra waves her hands once more, the gilded mirror next to his bedside transported to the foot of the bed, a one-sided voyeur to our pleasure, at least until she snaps her fingers, turning what once was merely a looking glass, into a one way view into our...activities.
She winks into the mirror, knowing that though she and Penny will look and only see their reflection, her little mouse's dear James is in for quite the show.
I melt into her kiss, my breath hitching each time I grind my lacy panties into her thigh. It is so good, and yet...still not enough. Each kiss and gyration drives molten metal through my veins but the gentle pressure only serves to maintain my desperation. I whine into her lips, shaking at the influx of sensations.
"My poor little mouse, so greedy. I give your desperate pussy attention and it's still not enough, is it? For shame little mouse," Lyra tuts, massaging my breasts and delighting in my futile grinding. I can't cum yet, not until she lets me. As much as I want release, I want even more to be obedient for her.
"I-I n-no Lyra, you're so good to me, I want to be good.", I say, desperate for her approval, even if it means I have to stay needy.
"You're such a sweet girl darling," she says, trailing her fingers down my neck, basking in my giggles as she plays my neck and ears like her own personal instrument.
"I think I am not quite done with my games. come here," she says, spinning me until my back is flush with her chest, the silk of her dress clinging to my back, glistening with perspiration.
I cringe as I see myself in the mirror, I have never been confident when it comes to seeing my body, pale as a ghost, soft in places I wish could be flatter, but as I see her adoring eyes looking me up and down, I cannot help but feel cherished. My body may not be perfect, but with her, it could be something to admire. My chest reddens as I am overtaken by blush. I am under her sole attention and no one else's.
My heart skips a beat as I see her fingers trail toward my skirt. With another tap my skirt and panties have vanished, leaving me bare for the mirror. "You're heavenly body has been hidden from me for far too long darling.
“For my next game, I am going to hold you tight as I take you apart. But I will warn you, my love, I do not give pleasure freely, every touch of your love spots comes with a price. Your job is to keep your eyes on this mirror and watch as a beautiful woman is tickled and pleasured until I have had my fill. Now...do we have a deal?”
I am so overwhelmed with lust, that I can do little more than nod, my breath quickening as I feel the familiar embrace of his golden magic encircling my neck with ancient inscriptions like the finest jewelry.
I touch the golden choker, shivering as remnants of my mentor’s magic vibrate against my fingertips. Looking at myself and meeting my eyes is a challenge. A flush of embarrassment flows through me each time I see my face scrunch in pleasure. Lyra is magnificent, captured in her arms like something to be won, it makes my stomach do somersaults.
"Look darling, I have a ticklish little apprentice at my mercy. Be a good girl now, put your hands behind my neck. If you keep them where you're told, maybe I won't be too hard on you for being a greedy mouse." she whispers, her hands hovering above their targets.
I do as she says, bracing myself, but grateful that at least this time I do not have to hold back.
She gives me little time to prepare. Her spidering fingers test each peak and valley of my trembling ribs. I lean my head towards her neck, seeking comfort as she goes in at full force, my bouncing laughter playing out into her ears. With my face so close to hers, I can hear each hitch of her breath as she causes a new stream of laughter.
Lyra, never one for staying in one spot, begins raking up and down my torso, stopping to flutter her tickling fingers when she finds a spot that elicits squeals. She reads me like a piece of sheet music, and it is intoxicating.
Her slow trail down my torso reaches its conclusion as her hands rest against my hips. I begin to thrash against her attention.
"Good little mouse," she coos into my ear. "Looks like I found another spot. Just what should I do?"
She digs her fingers into my hip pockets, mewling as my laughter picks up a terrifying pitch. The closer she gets to my pantyline, the closer I get to losing my last shred of sanity.
"Lyraaaa Oh no, no no no not THERE PLEHEHEHEASE, I-IT'S T-T-TOO-"
"Too what darling?" She cuts me off. "Too sensitive? Poor poor little mouse. Well now I will have to pay more attention won't I? Don't worry, I am sure it will tickle plenty," she taunts.
The moment she traces those cruel nails where my thigh meets my pelvis, I nearly jump out of her embrace, only kept in place by her strong arms.
"LYRA NO NO NO AHAHAHAHA PLE-PLEASE? NOT THEHEHERE OH GOD NOT THERE, I CAN'T TAHAHAKE IHIHIT,".
The sight of my thrashing red face lined with tears sends my senses into a tizzy. It makes me batty to know how much of her attention I have in this moment. To be seen and touched and adored...even if that adoration makes me want to jump out of my skin.
Her nails fingerwalk down my pelvis, getting closer and closer to the spot that will break me under her fingers. Each movement makes my breath catch amidst a cacophony of screams.
"It is quite a happy coincidence that I have two hands darling. It means I can do this," Lyra taunts. Her left fingers slowly circle towards my clit, the right hand never ceasing its torment of my screeching pelvis.
The moment that her finger makes contact, gently massaging the little bundle of nerves, my panicked laughter catches in my throat. The only sound I am capable of at that moment is a slow keen.
"Yes! Yes! Lyraaa It's so goohohohod, p-please d-dohon't stohohop," my giggles have quieted to a gentle flutter. Lyra’s malicious scrabbling has slowed as she hones in on my pleasure.
"You really have been a good little mouse, your laughter will keep me sated for months dear, though I would tickle your adorable body every minute of the day if I could," she says with a smile, getting up from her spot behind me to kneel at my feet.
Her hands stroke my knees and I obediently open for her. Her dark waves billow between my legs.
"M-Miss, You've been so good to me. Y-Y-You certainly don't have to do...this,” I bluster, the name of the act stuck in my mouth. I feel caged by my embarrassment.
"Oh such a polite little mouse, don't worry...I will enjoy this. I am a succubus after all." She says, her voice warm with fondness.
"And one more thing darling."
"Y-yes"
"You'll do well not to break my rule one more time. I assure you, the consequences will not be pleasant...for you anyway," she says, her stern voice doing horrible things to my senses.
She begins with a gentle kiss, the soft jolt sending shivers down my body at the potential.
Lyra does not need a map of my sensitive spots. Not here. Not while her soft tongue teases against my clit, sending shock waves of pleasure throughout my body.
"AHHH YES! YES! RIGHT THERE Ly-Lyra y-you feel so good! P-Please don't s-stop," It is truly a challenge to keep my eyes trained on the mirror, every image of my pleasure reflected at me. I want nothing more than to be good for her. If I am going to play by her rules, I am going to do my damndest to earn my pleasure.
My breathing comes in deep lungfuls. Each exhale is accented with a cry for more. It is embarrassing enough to see my face dizzy with pleasure.
With each pass of her tongue alone, I am brought so close to crashing waves of pleasure that I can hardly stand it. Each breath feels infused with fiery pleasure...I want so badly to break for her.
"L-Lyra I-I'm close! Please, please...I need p-permission." I beg, transfixed by the image of her subtle movements in the looking glass.
With a quick peck, she looks up at me with a smirk, basking in my tears of protest.
"Oh you're just too cute when you're frustrated," she says, her nails lightly scribbling against my inner thigh, making me squeak at the sensitivity.
"I did say that you get you're deepest desire darling, and I meant it. You have been such a good little mouse for me.
"When you imbued my contract, I heard the depths of your soul my dear. I know what you want at the end of all this. I will only ask you this once. I can give you the climax you are desperate for...or I can give you what you desire. The choice...is your's, little mouse,” she says, her hands never ceasing their maddening trail along my inner thighs.
My head is swimming with arousal....and nerves. She couldn't possibly...how would that even be managed? I am too frenzied to think clearly. All I can do is give one more nod, to the demoness whose hands I am placing my pleasure and trust.
"Perfect darling, I knew you'd make the right decision." she smiles,
"Oh, and one more thing," with a snap of her fingers, my shackled wrists and ankles are pulled into place by her cerulean magic. My hands are affixed to the bed next to my hips, each arm stretched out, causing my back to arch. My legs are similarly bound, with my ankles held to the bed, my legs spread wide for her playful attention.
"That's better, all spread out just for me. Wouldn't want you getting shy," she chuckles, laughing at her own joke.
"You've been such a good tickle toy darling. This is your reward. I am going to make you cum for me little mouse. You only have one rule for me, darling. You will tell me when you start getting close...and you will certainly be rewarded."
Lyra does not hesitate. Back on her knees, she plays with my bundle of nerves like it is hers to savor. Her tongue draws firm circles around my clit. I can feel her smile against me as I keen.
I should have known that an orgasm from a tickle demon comes with caveats. Lost in pleasure, I let out a squeak of surprise as her fingers reach up to gently scribble against my pelvis.
"AH AH Lyrahaha! Y-YE-I mean no! Please Lyra, please! It''s t-too much I-hihihi am gon-nna go crazeeee!" What was once soft sighs and smiles, is now a frenzy of noise and sensation.
The intensity of her tongue fucking me sensitizes my skin. Each tickle against my pelvis drives my pleasure higher. It's too much sensation. I can't take it. I'm getting close.
"L-Lyra pleeeaasssee I'm close I'm close"
Her fingers replace her tongue, rolling my clit between them as she smiles.
"I knew you were a tickle slut little mouse, but feeling your pleasure...it's been centuries since I've had a toy with this much tickle lust. Well...I made a promise...I hope you are ready darling"
With a final snap of her fingers, the mirror shatters, and each shard evaporates into iridescent dust floating to the ground like snow. Butterflies erupt in my stomach as I am face to face with the man who haunts my fantasies.
The room is eerily silent. The sounds of my heated gasps fill the space.
My dear mentor, James is frozen in the threshold of his prison. His knuckles are bone white as he grips the gilded frame with every ounce of his strength. For a moment, my heart thunders in terror. I cannot read his expressions, still overcome by the flurry of sensations that ceased not a moment before. Secret desires that I could hardly admit to myself were spread out like a banquet for the one whose admiration I craved the most.
He is affected in a way I could not have imagined in my wildest fantasies. His eyes have darkened with a primal energy that makes me want to run...knowing he would catch me eventually.
Lyra doesn't pause before returning to my torment. Her tongue dances across my clit, and her left-hand digs into my hip pockets. I cannot restrain my moans and laughter, nor can I tear my eyes from the stormy blue glare.
When Lyra's right two fingers enter me, pumping my pussy and teasing me as she flexes her fingers in a come hither motion, ruthlessly massaging my G-spot, I understand our endgame now.
My wide eyes brim with tears as I plead with him.
"Oh god please James Oh god, please can I cum, I-I have been so bad I-haha I-I know that b-but plehehehase, I-I c-can't hold it bahahack m-much longer!”
His eyes swirl with a flurry of emotions. I want to cum so badly, but more than anything, I need him to want it. I need to know that I will break, and it will please him.
His brow furrows, eyes tinted with fury that shouldn't turn me on as much as it does. He takes in my body and my...predicament before he forces his gaze to the ground, teeth worrying at his lips. I see his chest rise and fall in rapid succession. James is redder than I have ever seen him. All of this observed is nearly enough to send me over the edge...but only nearly.
With a huff of resolve, James cools his expression. I whine as every hint of primal passion drains from his face. He examines me with the distance of a scholar, and it makes me want to scream.
Taking in my situation with a calculation that only a master alchemist can have, his next words are delivered in a manner so unaffected, that I would have thought that James was reading a shopping list if I didn't currently have the most beautiful woman in all creation edging my clit like it's her fucking job.
"Oh Penny," he sighs with exasperation, the sound of his slow steps thundering in the silent room. They do not stop until he is standing at my side, looking down on me and my torment. He cards his fingers through my sweat-damp hair and I cannot contain the moan of pleasure that slips from my lips. His fingers tighten in my tresses, pulling my head back until we lock eyes.
"You have been quite the naughty apprentice tonight, dabbling in advanced magic, entering my bedchamber without permission, and now this…”
"A release is a gift to be earned lovely, and you are one step away from the punishment of your life.”
“Lyra!," he says, taking his attention from me for an agonizing moment.
"I want you to keep a steady pace. Our Penny Lee needs to learn the meaning of patience," he smirks, reveling in my pleas for mercy.
"Oh and one more thing Pen," he says with a glint of mischief,
"Cum against my orders and you will be very sorry.”
Lyra looks at me with veiled pity.
"Sorry darling, It can't be helped This is a game just too fun to resist," she says with a knowing smirk. It’s as if this had been her master plan all along. To give me everything I've ever wanted and deny me right as I am on the edge.
She kisses my pussy tenderly as if it were the first time she'd had the pleasure. I sob as the sensation slows down just enough to bring me back from bliss, keeping me stuck near my peak until I am without words.
Lyra's hands hold tighter on my hips as I begin to thrash. I lock eyes with James, his face a mask of cool indifference as begging gibberish tumbles out of my mouth.
If it weren't for his body language, he may have been able to fool me into believing he was back in control. But in this room, he has nowhere to hide. Standing so..close. I can clearly observe how his chest rises and falls with the effort of lust. If I had my wits, I might say the pink of his cheeks is the prettiest color I have ever seen. My darling mentor is turned on...and I can only hope this allows him to be lenient.
I tremble with fear as I feel the pleasure begin to build. I want to be a good apprentice. I want to obey...but how can I when Lyra's fingers and tongue are slowly working in tandem to bring about my destruction? James will ensure that I am punished for my transgressions. It takes everything that I have to hold back.
I bite my lip, stifling laughter and moans as Lyra takes turns sucking my clit and raking her nails against the pits of my knees, a move that has my sounds of desperation broken off by a frenzy of cackles. It truly is a curse that tickling makes me all the more sensitive.
"James James Jahahames pleassee hahave mercehehe. I-I'm sorrehehe. I know wha-at I did was bad!"
Our eyes meet, and I know I am in trouble when I see the hint of a smile.
"My poor dear, you have had it far too easy. I know my apprentice can take more don't you think lovely," he says, reveling in my whimpers as I hear the telltale sound of his snapping fingers near the shell of my ear.
I am in trouble. I am in so much trouble. Yet I do not fully grasp it until I see your pair of maroon quills, a sheen of gold sparkling through their tendrils as they levitate in the air. They make a lazy trail towards my breasts and underarms and I cannot help but tense in my bindings.
"My poor little apprentice. You thought you were getting off scot-free, didn't you? After hours of teasing me with your little show, you thought I would cave to your wishes just like that..."
"I-I didn't mean to tease you, James. P-Please I-I want to be good! I want to follow your rules." I cry, breathing faster and faster as the feathers begin their twisting trail from my underarms to my nipples.
"Oh you better not break my rules Pen, I assure you, Lyra would be more than happy to go along with your punishment regardless of whatever 'pact' you have.
I feel Lyra smile against me, her tongue speeding up against my tortured bundle of nerves. The feathers make their home at the sides of my breasts. They trail in swirling figure eights. It's not fair! With every brush against my underarms, my sighs are broken by cackles, and with every twirl across my nipples, I am pushed closer to disobedience.
"Oh no! No no no no Sir! PLEHEHEHEASEE I-I'M CLOHOHOHOHOSEE HAHAHAHA NOOOOO!"
I scream, desperately jerking my torso away to no avail.
"Don't you dare cum little apprentice," he warns, his breathing hot and heavy in my ear as I am reduced to nothing but the tickling pleasure lighting up my body.
I am close. I am close. I am close, and I cannot hold it back. I must be obedient, but it's too much. Among a cacophony of sensation...I disobey. The screams of my pleasure ring off the walls like church bells ringing.
"SSIR I-I'M SORRY I'M SO-OH GOD", my body trembles with the force of my release. Waves of pleasure crash over me like a tsunami. My pussy clenches around Lyra’s fingers and I cannot help but tremble through the pleasure. She works her fingers in and out of me, prolonging my pleasure until I whimper at the sensitivity. My heavy breathing starts to slow as fingers and feathers retreat from my nipples and pussy. I sigh, my body relaxing into the warm afterglow. I want nothing more than to collapse onto the bed, sandwiched between the two beings that have ensnared me with their affections...but Lyra is not quite done with either of us yet.
As the last tide of pleasure ebbs, leaving my limbs heavy with exhaustion, I am startled by a sudden movement. She lifts me as if I were nothing but a ragdoll, laying me out on the bed once again in that dreaded T position. My wrists are stretched out as if mocking the crucifixion. My legs, tied together and stuck in front of me, may as well be made of cement. I can move my toes in my heels, but a small wiggle is all I can manage.
"Lyra, just what do you have planned old friend?” my mentor says, his eyes twinkling with renewed interest. He takes a step back from the bed, analyzing my new predicament.
"I had the most delightful little plan, my dear professor! It seems that the terms of our little mouse’s contract haven’t quite been met. Since we let you out of that horrible mirror, I thought you might like a chance to join me for a little retribution.” she says to him, her voice dripping with mirth.
The flirtatious smirk widens to a full grin. I feel as if I could be blinded by its radiance, even if the wiggling of his fingers is making my heart stutter.
They slowly make their way towards the foot of the bed, one flanking each side. The pair revels in my renewed panic. I am in deep trouble. I can feel the buzz of sensitivity prickling my skin. It is enough to make the gentlest touch feel like a nightmare...and I have a feeling they won't be gentle. If one tickling demon was bad, two will be my undoing.
James looks towards Lyra, watching her sit next to my trembling feet. Still clad in knee-high socks and heels, they feel naked under the attention. My mentor gently traces his nails down my calf. Satisfaction crosses his face as a choked gasp is trapped in my throat.
" I have one last little game for us little mouse," Lyra says, playfully tugging at the bows on my shoes.
"I know you must be so sensitive for us, but I did say I would be testing out all of your tickle spots didn't I?"
"Please Lyra, y-you don't have to do this! I-I'm sorry I came without permission...I couldn't help it," I blubber, desperate for any sort of mercy.
"Oh darling this isn't a punishment. I am sure you're sweet James will relish in delivering that joy to you later. I am merely collecting on what was promised me. The fact that you are in an oversensitive predicament makes it all the more delicious for me."
"I desperately want to tickle these pretty little feet, but I will offer you a deal. If you can keep me from taking off your shoes using the tips of your toes, then I will let you leave here and be on my merry way. If you fail, however,... dear James and I will be having our way with these adorable soles until I have had my fill.”
I tense my feet as tight as I can manage. With the opening of each strap, Lyra gently tugs at the heels, leaving them dandling off of my toes like a stone waiting to drop.
"Poor little apprentice, you're shaking like a leaf," James teases, running a single nail down the inner edge of my right foot, a thin sock my only protection.
I squeak. My whole body jerks at the contact, my heels sliding further off my feet. In a desperate move, I wiggle and clench my toes in the futile hope that I can shimmy them back on. Lyra however, has spotted a crack in my armor. I shriek as she scrabbles both hands on the exposed arch of my right foot.
Amidst such torment, I can not help but thrash, a mistake that will be my undoing. I shake in my bindings as I hear my shoes fall to the floor with an ominous thud.
"Oh look, our little mouse has lost the wager..." Lyra drawls, each word slipping off her tongue like molasses. I nearly hyperventilate as she divests me of my socks, leaving my oversensitive soles painfully exposed.
"Look at these James," she coos, "Bare and begging for attention...now where do I start?”
“Slow down darling,” he smirks, his eyes trailing up and down trembling pink soles.
“Let’s savor our poor girl’s torment. You certainly don’t want her wearing out when the real fun is just starting.”
Following his lead, Lyra begins with a gentleness that surprises me. Using just one dark lacquered nail, she rakes a slow line down my arch.
So soon after cumming, even a feather-light touch enough to send me into a fit of giggles.
"Lyrahaha oh god oh god!" I beg.
I wiggle my feet in a vain attempt to protect them, but my squirming only intensifies the shocks of sensation.
"My darling girl, that laughter is...delectable." she mewls, her nail never ceasing its meandering trail along my right foot.
"Now just where should I start first? There truly are so many options little mouse and I want to try them all.”, she looks across at James, clearing her throat and startling him out of his adoring focus.
“What do you think, Professor? Or are you too busy studying my work to be of use?" Lyra asks, her tone laced with humor.
James hesitates, his eyes locked on my predicament. His face burns with flushing heat, and his hands tremble above my toes. They flex, inviting him to touch. I am never this bold, but I would do anything to feel the skill of his touch. I have never seen so affected before, and I would sell my soul to see it again and again. As much as I want to escape this oversensitive hell, knowing that I make him feel, I make him want…that one fact makes Lyra's nails a tiny bit more bearable.
“My dear master, are you going to just gawk, or are you going to join me in breaking our pet? It’s hardly easy torturing both feet at once darling,” she teases, gesturing towards my squirming left foot.
He nods, kneeling on the plush carpet until he is at eye level with his prize. I expected feathers and nails with a ferocity that destroys me, but nothing could have prepared me for his chosen torture. With a lustful smile, he leans in softly, beginning my torment with a single kiss. His soft lips brush the sensitive skin once, then twice continuing at a sadistic tempo until I am shivering under his gentle attention. It tickles. God, it tickles. But even so, I cannot stop the renewed fire that burns through me, drenching my **** and cracking my sensibilities. Withholding sounds of my pleasure is a fool's errand at this point. A stream of moans pours from my lips, and I am powerless to stop it.
“Ple-Please Sir, more. This is torture”, I cry.
A devilish grin crosses Lyra’s face.
“Do you hear that professor? Our little pet wants more torture”,
I eat my words the moment they pass my lips. Sharing a devilish grin, James and Lyra go in for the kill. With an unbelievable synchronicity, my tormentors bend my toes back. Lyra and James rake their fingers up and down my soles with a speed that sends electricity shooting up my spine. They vary their technique, never staying in one spot or pattern long enough to acclimate. From slow rakes to rapid scribbles, they keep me on the edge of hysteria.
A poor girl can only take so much. It does not take more than a minute of their evil ministrations for me to truly crack. Gone are the soft giggles and feminine laughter. All that is left in its place is the sound of screams and frantic moans.
"AAAAAHH LYRAHAHAHA PLEHAHAHESE STOP!", I beg, my mind melting from the overwhelming rush of ticklish torture.
"Sweet little mouse, you can't mean that. How could you want me to stop with a pretty smile like that?", she taunts.
With each stroke of his nails, I see his fervor build. His eyes have taken on a crazed look, studying every twitch and clench of my feet. It makes me wish it were just the two of us. The picture of perfect submission, I’d be at his mercy, and if my fantasies were to be fulfilled, he’d be desperate to get his fill of my torture.
Never losing focus, Lyra begins circling her nails around the ball of my foot. A spot I didn't expect to be so sensitive, It makes tears trail down my cheeks. Each time a new spot lights up my body, Lyra sighs, my torment affecting her in ways that give me butterflies.
"Oh sweet mouse, another spot...I wonder how many I can find," she mewls.
"Please please plehehehase Lyraaaaa I-I c-cant hahahahaha wh-what do you wahahahant?"
Her fingers pause for the briefest moment, giving me time to catch my bearing. My throat is raw from hours of panicked laughter and there is no end in sight.
"Oh mouse, I don't think you are quite broken enough for my intentions," she says, her fingers lightly trailing both soles as James takes a step back to admire my torment in full view. My breath hitches in response. It is just enough sensation to cloud my mind without sending me into a frenzy.
When I have recovered to her liking, Lyra sets to breaking me. With a practiced ease, she scribbles her nails on both of my feet in tandem. The dual sensation sends shockwaves of ticklish terror throughout my body. My legs jolt in response. I wriggle and clench my feet but it is no use. With every pass of her well-manicured nails, my cackles increase in volume. She pays focused attention to my arches. It is my worst spot after all, and she uses that to her every advantage.
My eyes go in and out of focus. Flurries of sensation cloud my mind with a haze of delicious torture. I cannot speak. My tongue is glued to the floor of my mouth. All I can do is feel my mind spiral with each new spot discovered.
This is worse than anything I have ever experienced. My nerves are on edge from my release, each touch sends fireworks to my brain and I am caught deaf and dumb by the explosions.
When she pulls back my toes, her fingers dance along their inner joints...and I crumble. My screaming giggles reduce to quiet huffs as my voice burns from exertion. Everything is blurry, and my eyes are unable to focus clearly. My beloved James, red as a cherry, may as well be a blur amidst my fatigue.
I manage one last please before Lyra finally relents.
"There's a good mouse. You did so well for me, didn’t you? I haven’t been this sated in centuries”, she croons, lovingly massaging each limb as her enchantments are released. I nod dumbly, floating too high to give any sort of response. I would do just about anything for this woman in the state she has me. How lucky am I, that my tormentors have turned from torture to meticulous care.
James pulls back the velvet quilt, draping me in its warm embrace. His eyes are caught in a moment of bare tenderness as he tucks my disheveled hair behind my ear. I feel the hours of tension flow from me as the pair surround me with gentle affection. With heavy-lidded eyes, I lean into their warmth, cradling me on both sides of the bed. As I drift off, I hear the honey whispers of my dear mentor, too far gone to fully comprehend their meaning.
“You were a masterpiece tonight. Sleep well my darling, we’ll have much to discuss in the morning, you are ours now after all…if you’ll have us.”
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