(This is my very first piece of tickle fetish writing so any constructive criticism would be appreciated!!)
In the sprawling city of Emon, as twilight embraced the tops of the tallest towers to the cracks of the loneliest alleyways, a figure stepped through the growing shadows with the silence of a whispering wind. A yuan-ti pureblood monk, known only as Kuro to his employers, was executing a clandestine mission.
His objective: Pike Trickfoot of Vox Machina.
A gnome cleric of the Everlight goddess Sarenrae. The heroes known collectively as Vox Machina's had a burgeoning influence that had in turn become a concern for certain criminal factions within the city and abroad. So, unofficially, a few right hand men, legal advisors, and major-domos decided to pitch in a healthy pile of gold to send a message while their star of fame was still early on in its blaze of glory and renown. Utilizing his mastery of stealth and shadow along with some critically successful throws of a smokepowder bomb or three, Kuro had quickly captured the formidable Pike Trickfoot. This despite some surprisingly potent reflexive cantrips from the cleric before she blacked out. Swiftly he transported the holy cleric under the cover of night to a once hallowed but now desolate monastery nestled in the dark recesses of the Cliffkeep Mountains.
Pike's consciousness returned slowly, like a distant light gradually piercing through an enveloping shadow. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a room cast in muted tones, where an ominous darkness clung to the walls like a silent but ever-present specter. A dull ache throbbed in her head as the fringe of her now disheveled snow-white hair drooped lightly over her vision. A stark reminder of the abrupt and explosive transition from the vibrant streets of Emon to this unknown, somber chamber.
Attempting to move, Pike quickly realized her predicament: her arms and legs were bound tightly to a sturdy, wooden chair, the ropes chafing against her fair skin with every subtle shift. The bindings were methodical, professionally applied, allowing no room for struggle. Even tougher than the knots she learned to tie those four months sailing aboard The Broken Howl. Willing herself to concentrate through the throbbing pain she also detected faint traces of abjuration magic on the contours of the rough dusky gray fibers looped around her wrists and ankles.
The room was stark, lit by a single, flickering candle that cast an eerie glow. Along the walls, Pike's squinting eyes noticed arcane symbols, their intricate designs etched into the stone, pulsating with a faint, ominous monochromatic energy.
Out of the shadows, a figure materialized, almost as if woven straight from the darkness itself. It was Kuro, the shadow monk, wearing form-fitting jade green and inky black monk robes. His visage partially concealed by a dark hood Pike could still make out the threatening figure looming before her was, to her surprise, quite handsome.
Despite his sharp features and high cheekbones this guy was clearly not an elf, she thought. But at the same time the perceptive cleric could tell he wasn't exactly human either.
The eyes that focused in on hers from beneath the hood were a piercing green, and for a second in the flickering candlelight Pike thought they almost looked snake-like.
Her memory flashed to when Vex once mentioned that some creatures in nature drape themselves in bright and exotic colors to warn the rest of the world of the absolute danger they possess.
Pike's heart raced, not with fear, but with a resolute spirit. She met Kuro's cold gaze, her eyes reflecting a carefully honed and steadfast resolve. "Why the hell am I here?" she asked, her voice steady, resonating with a sturdy confidence in the confined space.
The shadow monk carried an aire as enigmatic as the shadows he commanded. "Pike Trickfoot. Cleric of Vox Machina. Your influence has grown too disruptive," he stated, his smooth deep voice at once soft like that of a whispering purr yet also carrying a unmistakably dominant presence that filled the room.
"You must be restrained, understood, controlled."
His words, though spoken softly, carried an implicit threat. Pike's initial response was not one of defiance, but of serene confidence. "Well, I hate to break it to you, buddy. But true strength," she began, her voice imbued with an inner light, "lies in understanding and compassion, not in the shackles of fear and control or whatever angle you're trying to play at here."
Kuro's form leaned forward, the darkness around him seeming to deepen. "Do you not falter, Cleric" he probed, "when faced with your own limitations, your own vulnerability?"
Pike's response was as immediate as it was unshaken. "Actually, asshole, It's in moments like these that my faith burns brightest. You can bind my body, but my spirit, my beliefs, those remain unchained."
The room settled into a hushed stillness, broken only by the soft flickering of the candle flame and the slow creaks of wooden boards likely centuries old.
Kuro studied Pike for a long moment, his serpentine gaze as penetrating as it was cold. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, charged with an unspoken tension. Then, breaking the silence, he spoke, his voice a low murmur. "Yet, even the strongest faith has its... vulnerabilities."
Pike's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of confusion in her baby blue eyes. "Well, duh.. We all have our weaknesses," she replied, "but they don’t define us. They make us relatable. If anything, they connect us more closely to the people we meet and share our lives with."
A thin, almost imperceptible smile flickered across Kuro's lips. "Indeed," he said softly. "For instance, it is known, a tightly kept secret among your closest allies, that you possess a... particular vulnerability."
"A certain... ticklishness."
That last word he let linger in the air with the hint of a hiss. Pike's eyes widened momentarily, a mix of surprise and incredulity flashing across her face.
It was such a trivial thing. A small detail she had tried to never put that much thought into. Yet in this moment, in this place, it felt strangely invasive, a personal secret unearthed and laid bare.
Kuro observed her reaction unblinking, awaiting the slightest shift in her demeanor.
Success.
"It is such a harmless and mundane thing... Yet quite revealing. It shows that beneath the cumbersome armor of faith enveloped in blinding piety, you are still susceptible to the most base of human conditions."
Pike composed herself, her expression settling into one of resolute yet calm acceptance. "Ok. So? Everybody has quirks," she said, her voice steady. "But that’s totally not the same thing as a "weakness". Things like that remind us of our shared humanity, our capacity for joy and laughter... Even in the face of fear and adversity... And even creepy guys dressed in pajamas"
Kuro ignoring the intended goad nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps," he conceded. "Yet, it is these small chinks in armor that make people truly vulnerable and unprotected. They can be sources of strength, yes..."
"Or they could be the means for exploitation... Depending on who it is that wields that tantalizingly sensitive knowledge, of course."
Kuro stood motionless for a moment, his green icy gaze fixed directly on Pike's. Then, with a step as quick as the wind, he reached out from the shadows, his fingers hovering just inches from her tightly bound body. Pike tensed in the chair, a flicker of apprehension crossing her face. It was one thing to acknowledge a vulnerability; it was another to face the reality that it was about to be mercilessly exploited by a mysterious (and frustratingly attractive) stranger.
"Well, Miss Trickfoot. As we explore these vulnerabilities," Kuro began, his purring voice still soft yet carrying an increasingly threatening undertone, "we shall see how they affect not just the body, but the spirit." His fingers moved closer, and Pike braced herself.
In the dimly lit chamber, a tense silence continued to prevail. Kuro's gloved hand hovered mere inches from Pike, his thin dexterous fingers outstretched like the tendrils of darkness that surrounded them. Pike, though apprehensive, met the shadow monk's gaze with unwavering determination, her spirit a bastion against the impending physical gauntlet.
With a deliberately teasing slowness, Kuro's fingers descended towards Pike. The initial contact was light, a feathery brush against the exposed skin of her neck. Pike's reaction was immediate and uncontrollable; a sharp, involuntary snort and then giggle echoed in the chamber, breaking the grave stillness. The ticklish laugh lasted but a moment but Pike Trickfoot's eyes grew wide as saucers in stark realization.
She was in trouble.
Kuro observed her reaction intently, his face an impassive mask. He moved both menacing hands lower down the gnome's petite yet heavily protected body in a single fluid motion. His highly trained fingers had somehow found their way in-between the slight but now clearly vulnerable spaces between the heavy plates of her shining armor. Suddenly Kuro's fingertips could be felt dancing like the legs of many wild spiders fluttering up and down along Pike's sensitive sides.
The shadow monk was seeking the spots that he knew, from months of patient study on the now bound and vulnerable Cleric of Sarenrae, would be most susceptible to his specialized torment. Pike Trickfoot squirmed hard in her magically-enhanced restraints, a burst of uncontrollable belly laughter escaping her soft pink lips, each sputtering chuckle a testament to the struggle to maintain her composure under the increasingly ticklish torment.
"Oh cleric of Sarenrae... Is this really how your faith stands tested?" Kuro asked, his voice a low melodic tease, almost drowned out by Pike's ever-mounting giggles and girlish squeals. Amidst the laughter, Pike tried to speak, her words interspersed with involuntary chuckles. "Faith... it's about .. way more.. than enduring... physical trials," she managed to say, her voice trembling with both mirth and effort. The monks fingertips weaved with a dangerous precision along the soft tender areas just the outside of the diminutive cleric's surprisingly toned abs which he felt in turn tense and twist helplessly against his strong and weathered palms.
Kuro soon intensified his tickling, his fingers now deftly exploring under Pike's soft and sensitive underarms, a known bastion of ticklishness for many. And Kuro knew it was one of the little cleric's most vulnerable of targets. Pike's laughter grew louder, building up to a melody of mirth within the somber cliffside room, her body writhing as much as the restraints would allow. Still trying to (futilely) evade Kuro's relentless fingers.
"And your trusted companions, your cherished allies," Kuro now continued adopting an analytical tone as his fingers slowly traced a trail going back and forth between her armpit and the underside of her tricep. "How do they fit into this... laughter-filled perspective of faith?" The shadow monk making sure to wriggle his fingertips quickly at the word "laughter" to elicit a higher pitched giggle from the ticklish Trickfoot as if it were on cure.
Through her laughter, Pike forced out, "They...Ah... they hahasee meheehee... for all that I amahha. Strengths and weheheaknesses... shared laughter... it bind-Nohohohah! Ahaha.." Her words were punctuated by gasps for air, the physical sensation of the devious tickling overwhelming her senses.
In the cold, shadow-draped chamber, the ruthless shadow monk was quickly tearing through any sort of resolve Pike Trickfoot had. His trained fingertips tickled and teased all over her sensitive upper body. Pike wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. And then in an instant. He stopped.
Kuro locked eyes with the beautiful restrained gnome once more. Some of her braids had come loose in all of her squirming and writing. Rebellious strands of sheet white hair hung loosely across Pike's flushed cheeks as she quickly panted and attempted to fully catch her breath.
And in an instant there was a change.
Like the eyes of an intelligent monstrosity deciding it was done playing with a novice adventurer ignorantly out of their depth.
Pike's heart raced as Kuro approached with a new, and clearly sinister, strategy in mind.
The first step in this menacing new approach was apparently to remove Pike's clunky armored boots, a task the monk performed with a disconcertingly focused intent.
Kneeling before her, Kuro's dexterous hands moved with a precision that was almost surgical. His quick fingers carefully unbuckled each bulky binding of Pike's sturdy metallic boots, crafted what looked like platinum and reinforced by hardened leather, designed to protect the petite but mighty servant of Sarenrae in the heat of battle. However, as each buckle clicked open and the straps loosened, a foreign sense of vulnerability began to creep into Pike, replacing the feeling of security her armor usually provided.
With a deliberate slowness, Kuro peeled the heavy boots off Pike's feet, revealing her bare foot which were fittingly small as would suit a gnomish lass. However the stark contrast between the rough, battle-worn exterior of the metal boots and the supple, unprotected skin of Pike's petite soles was stark. Those feet, now exposed to the cool air of the chamber, seemed almost delicate, the skin pale and smooth with slight pink-ish undertones on the bottoms of her toes and curvy soles. Compared to the assumptions one might have regarding a seasoned adventurer Pike’s feet were relatively unmarred by the rigors of her at times rugged and dangerous life.
After a brief moment, seemingly to inspect the fresh target of his renewed torment, Kuro’s fingers then began their torturous journey.
First, he started at the soft pink heel, his fingers lightly grazing the skin, causing Pike to flinch and grit her pearly white teeth. Grit as she did the corners of Pike's mouth began to curve up slightly as if they had already resigned themselves to their rictus fate.
Moving upward, the monk Kuro's dangerously potent pointer finger methodically traced the contours of the cleric Trickfoot's smooth petite arch. Wrinkles began forming on the pillowy soft sole as her foot began to flex and jerk. As if it could somehow defend against Kuro's torment as the Yuan-Ti Pureblood might parry an amateurish sword strike or deflect an incoming arrow laughably directed at his knee. Pike's hearty laughter began anew and was already reaching heights unheard of when the Kuro's fingertips had been restricted to her upper body.
As Kuro’s fingers ventured further, they explored the tender area beneath each of her cute pink toes. Each toe was a target, and he manipulated them expertly, sending waves of ticklish sensations through Pike's body. Her toes curled instinctively, as if trying to roll away from Kuro's probing fingers, but the effort was futile against his relentless technique. For being so small the monk levied a barrage of tickling to the clerics succulent toes that sent waves of ticklish sensation all the way up Pike's quivering muscular thighs.
Pike's unblemished feet were a canvas for Kuro's sadistic artistry. He seemed to understand every nerve ending, every sensitive spot that would elicit the most intense reaction. Her heavy laughter echoed in the chamber, a cacophony of despair and involuntary cackles, a stark contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. Pike's uncontrollable response to the ticklish torture along her sensitive foot was quickly driving the typically unshakable heroine mad.
"Does your deity hear your laughter now, cleric?" Kuro asked mockingly, his voice laced with a cruel satisfaction as he continued his ticklish assault.
Pike, caught in the throes of relentless laughter, struggled to maintain her composure. Her words were lost in a torrent of giggles and sharp breaths as she tried to respond to his taunts. The monk's hands were unyielding. His fingers skilled in the art of extracting laughter and surrender from the depths of Pike's typically steely resolve. The sight of the cleric, usually so composed and strong, reduced to a state of helpless laughter under his touch, seemed to please the cold-blooded sell-sword greatly.
Stars twinkled innocently in the cloudless night's sky above the walls of the long-abandoned monastery hidden within the titanic cliffs of the Cliffkeep Mountains. Within a dimly lit chamber however, the air was thick with the sound of laughter. The beautiful but helpless laughter of a beloved Champion of the Everlight whose ticklish weakness was being mercilessly exploited by a warrior trained in the use of shadows and darkness.
Kuro in the dedicated study and relentless fact-finding that lead up to the successful abduction of the saintly heroine had clearly learned that Pike Trickfoot's feet were incredibly ticklish. A piece of information he sought to exploit to the fullest. And with his own serpentine eyes the shadow monk could see that the cleric's irresistible feet were clearly the most ticklish part of her body by far. Which was saying something.
Kuro had long since removed her second heavily buckled and heavily armored boot which was hiding an equally pristine curvy sole with short toes and unbearable sensitivity. Not to create a sense of familiarity within the cleric he deliberately tickled one foot and then the other and sometimes both at once. Agonizing slowness and chaotic speed were both tools in his arsenal that his fingertips utilized up, down, and on top of the young gnome's feet with great efficiency.
Kuro paused in his relentless tickling of Pike's small sensitive soles, a sinister smile continuing to play on his lips. From within the folds of his jade and black robes, he produced a new though clearly planned instrument of torture – a long, sinister-looking pheasant feather.
The feather, its barbs long and delicate, glinted ominously in the flickering candlelight. Pike's eyes, still shimmering with tears from her hysterical laughter, widened in a mix of fear and disbelief. The feather seemed almost alive in Kuro's skilled hands as he swished it back and forth through the air, an extension of his sadistic will. Her strong hands gripped the arms of the wooden chair in terror. Preparing for the unbearable ticklish onslaught that would come next.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Kuro brought the feather down to the level of Pike's magically restrained bare feet. The feather's tip, soft yet unyielding, traced a line along the sensitive pink sole of her tiny foot. The sensation was different from his fingers – softer, yes, but more maddening. More precise. Pike's reaction was instantaneous; her body convulsed in a fresh wave of laughter, more intense and desperate than even before.
Kuro manipulated the feather with a master's touch, alternating between light, almost imperceptible strokes and firmer, more insistent swipes across the sensitive skin beneath Pike's feet. The feather explored every inch methodically– from the heel up the arch, pausing to tease the pads of her toes, and between each as well which predictably twitched and curled uncontrollably. Unfortunately their attempts at defense were as ineffective as Pike's frequent attempts to control her ticklish laughter.
The laugh in question had evolved to a near continuous stream, even devolving to complete silent laughter at times, punctuated by gasps for air. The tickling sensation of the feather was relentless, each stroke sending tingles of ticklish agony up her jerking legs, overwhelming her senses.
"You see, Pike? Even the mightiest can be reduced to helpless pitiful laughter," Kuro taunted, his voice laced with malice. "Tell me, Mighty Cleric of Sarenrae.... Where is your strength now?" He cupped his ear towards the tickled gnome to punctuate his sadistic teasing.
Pike tried to speak, to muster a snappy retort, a one liner. Anything! But the words were lost in her uncontrollable and everflowing laughter. Her face, flushed a scarlet red with exertion, betrayed the intensity of her ordeal. The feather, under Kuro's control, was a weapon as effective as any dagger or falchion, cutting through her defenses and leaving her utterly vulnerable.
The shadow monk only continued his assault, the feather dancing all over the tops of Pike's twitching and jerking petite feet with a cruel precision. Her feet arched and pointed down to escape the feathering to no avail. Kuro reveled in the power he wielded, in the ability to reduce the stalwart cleric to a state of helpless laughter.
In the shadowy confines of the chamber, Pike Trickfoot's laughter echoed off the walls, a stark contrast to the room's oppressive atmosphere. Kuro, wielding the long, sinister-looking pheasant feather, was a picture of sadistic delight continuing to stroke it up and down the contours of Pike's soft bare feet now with a slow, tantalizing movement.
As the feather's tip again made contact with the delicate skin of her soles, Pike's body jerked in response, a new wave of intense laughter escaping her lips. The feather's light, teasing strokes were still maddeningly effective, each touch sending a jolt of ticklish sensation through her.
"Please, okay?! No... NOmohohoooorhahahae... hahaha... stop, I’m behehegging yaohoohoo!" Pike managed to gasp out between fits of laughter. Her pleas were a mix of desperation and involuntary mirth, her usual composed yet peppy demeanor shattered by the relentless tickling.
Kuro responded with a cold chuckle, seemingly immune to her pleas. "Your laughter is quite revealing, cleric. It seems even those of faith have their breaking pointss." His voice was consistently cruel now with what almost sounded like an uncontrolled hiss. The sadistic assassin turned torturer was clearly enjoying each and every moment of her ticklish distress.
The feather continued its torment, gliding under Pike's toes, causing them to wiggle and squirm uncontrollably. "I can't..noononono. hahaha... please. PLEASE COME O-haahahahaha.. it's toohoo much!" Pike cried out, her voice laced with laughter and pleading.
Kuro leaned closer, his eyes fixed on Pike's face. "Where is Lady Sarenrae's protection now, Pike? I wonder... On the other side of the Divine Gate... Does she hear your laughter? Your childish pleas?" he taunted, his words cutting as sharply as daggers.
Pike, struggling to form coherent words through her laughter, replied, "M-my fahahayth... hahaha... is my streheheyngth...eeeheeheeven.... eeehheheevenn.. noWaaahhhoohoohohahaha!!.. please, stop this! Pleeeeahahaehaeheaseee..."
But Kuro was relentless. He continued to expertly maneuver the feather, exploring each and every sensitive spot of her feet. Each deliberate stroke eliciting a fresh peal of laughter from the cleric. Her body writhed against the restraints, her laughter tinged with the pain in her lungs from the unceasing tickling.
"Strength, you say? Funny... This seems much more like pure unadulterated weakness to me," Kuro sneered, his enjoyment of the situation evident in his tone.
Kuro, sensing that his cruel feather might eventually lose its clear effectiveness, decided to employ a different though quite unorthodox tactic.
With a flicker of dark energy and a whispered incantation Kuro bent his face forward. The cruel grin adorning his handsome face opened revealing a pair of long and pointy incisor fangs. And out from his serpentine maw like a writhing snake itself an elongated forked tongue extended out. From where she was sitting Pike noticed the surface of his monstrous tongue was intermittently crackling with a forboding umbral energy. And that's when the tongue began to glide all over Pike's sensitive and curvaceous arches.
The sensation was electrifying, and unlike anything Pike had ever experienced in her life. Her laughter, already uncontrollable, intensified into a crescendo of hilarity. Her vulnerable bare feet, with their delicate curves and supple skin, began to quiver and flex like they were being thrashed by bolts of lightning under the yuan-ti pureblood's extraordinary technique.
Pike's mind reeled from the intensity of the sensations. She had never imagined that her feet, normally so safe and protected, could be made to react in such a way. Much less to an evil ninja's tongue. Her laughter, a symphony of vulnerability, echoed through the cavern as her captive feet danced and writhed against their bondage under the ki-enhanced tongue's relentless assault.
The yuan-ti's sinister grin widened as he continued to manipulate his ki-powered tongue, drawing out even more laughter. unearthing deeper and deeper layers of vulnerability within Pike. The intensity of the sensations reached new heights as she yet again struggled to catch her breath between bursts of uncontrollable giggles.
As the relentless tongue tickling continued, something unexpected began to happen to Pike Trickfoot, Champion of Sarenrae. Hero of Vox Machina. Despite the frustration and humiliation, a strange and guilty sensation had slowly begun to creep up from the bottoms of her ticklish little feet, up her strong legs, her muscular thighs and into her mind. Well maybe not her literal mind per-se, but definitely something she had on occasion thought with instead of her mind.
It was a sensation she couldn't fully admit to herself, let alone to the literal hitman hired to humiliate her. But unfortunately bodies don't always do as you want them to. Despite the multiple secret prayers you may or may not have been frantically sending out to your patron goddess Sarenrae. Wanted or not, Pike's laughter which had started as an involuntary and torturous response to the tickling began to take on a very different tone. It was no longer purely a sign of distress; there was a growing hint of something else, something she couldn't quite define. Pike's cheeks flushed yet again though this time with embarrassment as she realized that she was experiencing a growing sense of enjoyment amidst the shadow monk's intended torment.
Despite the unbearable tickling, a peculiar and undeniable pleasure coursed through Pike’s veins. Her laughter, which had once been a desperate plea for mercy, now held a hint of excitement, a tantalizing edge of longing. It was as if the prolonged and gradually intensifying torment had transformed into a bizarre source of arousal that she at the moment couldn't fully comprehend.
With the pleasure building inside her almost overflowing, a flushed face, and a breathless gasp, Pike found herself uttering a request that surprised even the cleric's own ears. "Fahahaster," she panted, her voice trembling but still releasing uncontrollable giggles due to the tongue evily and sexily lickling her sensitive soles. "P-pleeehease... go fahaster."
Kuro, with a look of shock stopped his tongue tickling and looked around with what some might say a look of guilt on his face. Panting hard in the wooden chair Pike thought for a second she may have seen him blushing. This had definetely never been a scenario that came up during his courses at the shadow monk academy....
But then the disciplined shadow monk looked up once more at the face of beautiful breathless white haired gnome girl bound to a chair. The same gnome girl basically begging him to go to town on her soles. Her incredibly sexy arches were resting a mere few inches from his face.
Seeing her captor look over again at her bare feet the cleric of Sarenrae wiggled her toes in a way she figured might be sexy. And when the deadly shadow monk looked back at the holy cleric she was the one locking eyes with him. Kuro saw this hero of the people bite her lip seductively, smile, and raised an eyebrow at him as if to say "Well?".
A new, more seductive, smile appeared on Kuro's lips. The shadow monk unleashed his ki-powered tongue once more licking up and down Pike’s arches with even more speed and passion than before. The tip of his forked serpentine tongue danced across the soft pillowy soles of Pike's feet with an intensity that was almost unbearable for her.
"HAHAHAHAHahahahHAHa Oh fuck! Gods Yes! Hahahah dohohohnt stoop!"
The cleric's laughter escalated to a feverish pitch, her body writhing and contorting against her magical restraints. The tickling was excruciating, but it was also undeniably arousing. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but her desire overwhelmed her inhibitions.
"M-Mohohhhhoore!" she cried out, her voice a mixture of desperation and longing. "I- aha-ah...I caahahan take it... gooooohh Gods... Gohoho fahastoohhhhhehe! Yaahaaas!"
Kuro, his own arousal becoming increasingly evident through the bottom half of his black and jade dyed monk robes, continued to increase the speed of his tongue against her soles. Pike’s laughter filled the isolated room, echoing off the cold stone walls, as the unbearable tickling sensation of tongue and umbral magic along every part of her feet mingled with her unbearable desire.
In that moment, the boundaries of pleasure and torment blurred, and Pike found herself teetering on the precipice of surrender. The unbearable tickling that once filled her with dread now sent waves of pleasure cascading through her. As Kuro’s tongue sizzling with ki-energies worshipped and tickled her feet Pike’s laughter reached a frenzied crescendo.
And that's when it happened. Unable to maintain any level of restraint given his arousal the shadow monk finally gave into his own desires. Kuro began enthusiastically sucking on the gnome's sensitive toes while stroking up and down her soles with his fingers. Not expecting this new and highly arousing sensation so close to orgasm completely tipped the cleric over the edge.
Her body arched, her head tossed back, and her eyes closed tightly, surrendering to the electrifying sensations that coursed through her feet.
"Hhahahahahahaha Fuckah! Hohohohehahahhahayeeess! Yesyeheheheeh- OH SHI! My Go-oooooooohhhh shit! Ohhhhh! myUhhhhhooooooo gahOhhhh Goooohhoaaaauuhhohd!!!.........."
Her head hung back, limbs limp, resting on the top of the wooden chair that had been her jailer for who the hell knows how many hours Pike's fair skin glistened with a sheen of warm sweat as the torment and desire intertwined in a symphony of sensations that left her speechless.
And that's when the handsome shadow monk emerged from his spot in front of her feet, stradled the completely spent cleric of Sarenrae and kissed her deeply which tired as she was still reciprocated. Kuro then began slowly and seductively kissing down her neck.
As Pike sat eyes closed, smile on her face, feeling the sexy psycho asshole ninja's lips move down her skin she also felt restraints fall away...
What happened after this is the stuff of legends and rumors in the land of Tal'Dorei.
Of course, eventually Pike was inevitably rescued by the other members of Vox Machina bursting down the doors of the once-forgotten monastery.
Kuro melting taking a bow and melting into the shadows as the heroes made themselves known was the last time in public record anyone saw of the sadistic monk. He never did face justice for his abduction and cruel torment of the beloved hero Pike Trickfoot. Though she has publicly expressed forgiveness towards her captor.
Some say the shadow monk sellsword was able to retire with the gold he earned from his contract. Others say he continued his silent work though more along the lines of your average silent and unseen assassination with some intimidation and enforcer gigs thrown in out of boredom. This unfortunately has never been able to be corroborated as shortly after Pike Trickfoot returned home to Castle Greyskull the handful of right hand men and majordomos who allegedly put out the contract on her wound all up dead.
To this day though, from the seductive fetish friendly underground brothels of Emon to even the frigid hole-in-the-wall Crownsguard forts out in the wastes Wildemount, you can still hear in hushed lecherous whispers retellings of the Shadow that Tickled the Trickfoot.
