Intrepid Pawns Ch. 09

By this point, Brist's mind had totally surrendered to the sad, wretched truth:

He loved his kittens.

He shook and writhed between their feathers as they gleefully tickled his sides. They had gagged him with vines, so now it was all he could do to giggle and moan. The redhead was kissing his neck, licking him with her rough tongue, sensuously treating him to endless teasing samples of her talents. The brunette just looked down on him and laughed.

Aside from the gag, the crystal mage was no longer tied up. He lay there, totally unbound. Totally ensnared.

"You could escape, you know," the brunette whispered, for what had to be the hundredth horrid time. "Could tackle us. Could stroke yourself. Could fuck me!"

He whined and giggled as the redhead tickled beneath his arm.

"But you won't, will you?" She clapped her hands together happily. "Just keep edging, tickleslut. Just keep edging."

Down below, in the ultimate humiliation, his hand was wrapped around his cock and gently squeezing. Never enough to come. He was willingly edging himself, willingly making himself more vulnerable. He craved their command. Craved their torture.

He knew he needed to fight. Knew he needed to escape. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter that he was unbound, that he had a job to do. It didn't even matter that the rest of his team was counting on him. Brist's mind was abuzz with suggestions, and he was just... so... horny. Whenever he tried to stir, even just to futilely try to push one of their feathers away from his over-sensitized body, the suggestions filled him.

You promised, the suggestions whispered, honeysuckle-sweet, brushing against his mind like teasing feathers. You admitted you love it. You came. You gave in. Why not just wait a little longer? You know you don't have it in you. Feels so right to give in. You promised.

He was tied up by his own mind. His own needy, inexperienced mind. Brist had never been mastered like this before, never even been fucked like this before. And they weren't even letting him come.

"Silly tickleslut," hissed the redhead in his ear, nibbling his earlobe affectionately. "He doesn't wanna fight! He doesn't wanna cum! He told us himself!"

And he had, Brist had to admit. And that was why he couldn't fight back, why all he could do was lie back and laugh manically. When he'd given in and confessed how much he loved this... something in him had clicked. And now he couldn't fight. He didn't want to fight.

He did want to cum, though. But his kittens wouldn't let him, and he didn't want to fight. He didn't want to fight. So he continued to obediently edge, squirming beneath their feathers, as helpless as though he were trussed and bound.

"You're just suuuch a fun toy!" the redhead purred. "So horny. So needy. I think you're my new favorite, tickleslut!"

"And you're soooo glad we found you," the brunette cooed, and he felt her fingers dance over his cock. He trembled, but as soon as they had arrived, they vanished again.

"Mm-hm!" he whimpered. They laughed.

And he loved it. It felt so good to earn their praise, mocking as it was. He longed for more. More proof of their affections, no matter how double-edged.

"You can't help it, can you?" The redhead gave him several long, sensuous licks over his neck. "Your mind is just drowning in sexy whispers! You're so horny, you don't have any friggin' room for those nasty li'l thoughts anymore!" Her tongue lingered a little on the last lick, drawing out the agonizingly erotic sensation. “Do you?” she whispered sweetly in his ear.

"No..." he managed.

"No room for fighting," the redhead agreed, beaming at him. "No room for thinking! No room for, um... for resisting! N-no room for... for...nnn."

She trailed off.

And slowly, the tickling on his side came to a halt. Brist's eyes widened, both in initial relief and a perverted sense of disappointment.

After another moment, a strange mewling sound escaped the redhead.

She was not tickling him anymore, nor was she kissing or licking with that wonderful rough tongue. She was just... lying there. He managed a glance over. To his amazement, Brist say that her eyes had gone glassy. Her plump lower lip was quivering. "Oh," she whispered. "O-oh. Ohhh. Oh, s-sister—"

"What is it?" the brunette asked, seeming genuinely perplexed.

"Sister, I feel..." The redhead was squirming. The feather fell from her trembling fingers. "I feel h-horny. Horny!"

"Duh." The brunette snickered. "Look at this little toy. I musta frigged myself, like, ten times!" And the slick spot on Brist's leg could attest to it.

"N-no..." The redhead bit her lip. "I... I'm really horny. I need... need..."

Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and met Brist's gaze. Brist swallowed.

"… cock," she whimpered, staring him straight in the eye. "Oh, I need cock. Need cock!"

He shrank beneath her stare. That was a stare of pure hunger.

"Sister," the brunette said warningly, "we can't fuck him, remember? It'd spoil everything! Just make him lick you out!"

"I wanna fuck him," Redhead whined. Brist felt her rubbing against him, actually humping his leg. "Please! Wanna fuck! Wanna fuck!"

"Sister, what's got into you?" The brunette rolled her eyes. "Get a grip!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Brist saw the feather the redhead had dropped drift up into the air, as if under a power of its own. For a moment, he wondered if the tickling was about to resume, and felt intense relief. Then he realized that his kittens weren't doing this.

"Mmf!" he cried, trying to warn them.

"Quiet, tickleslut," the brunette said, grabbing the redhead by the shoulders and pushing her away from his leg. "Sis, you know this. It's no fun when they get to come. I bet we can keep this guy for months!"

"I know," the redhead whimpered, "but I need it now!"

The feather was moving closer and closer to its target. Brist's eyes widened. "Mmmf!"

"Quiet, boy!" the brunette snapped, glaring at him. "I'm trying to talk to my—"

And the floating feather struck, right between her shoulder blades. It flitted onto her bare skin and started to spiral in long, long lengths. The catgirl yelped and turned around, but the feather followed her, avoiding her vision. "What the—ah—ahahaha! Heehee!"

Her arms flew behind her. The feather bobbed and drifted out of reach to tickle her rear. Her ass clenched reflexively as it teased her there, then flew back up, going for her neck. “S—heehee! Stop it! Eeheehee!”

Brist looked up in awe as one of his own mistresses was tickled in front of him. The technique was incredible, judging by the catgirl's cries and titters. Who was doing this? And would she consider picking up where his mistress had left off?

"Heehee—no!" The brunette leaped to her feet and bolted, fleeing the floating feather. "Get awaaaAAAAH!"

The feather had slipped beneath her sole as she'd tried to bolt, and she'd fallen to the ground. She wriggled onto her back and struggled pathetically to cover herself against the feather's attempts. But she was prone and naked, and her breasts were not exactly easy to cover with just her hands.

And now the feather was flitting downwards.

"Hee—s-stop!" the brunette squealed, clutching at her breasts with one hand and her groin with another. "S-stop that—don't neeeeheehee!"

Brist looked on, eyes wide, as the catgirl slowly lost the battle to cover herself. Whenever the feather seemed to want to reach a particular area, she would try to cover it up. Then it would dart elsewhere, and she would immediately try to switch to covering that area. exposing the original target in the process. The feather was incessant. The feather was merciless. Finally, she was left lying in the grass and moss, rolling and wriggling back and forth in helpless ecstasy.

His view of her was blocked by a pair of pendulous breasts as the redhead rose up and straddled him. She stared down at him with wide eyes the color of pale green tree tulips. "Need it now," she whimpered, bouncing with sheer excitement. "Need, need, need!"

As she impaled herself atop him, Brist let out a muffled scream. His cock, so long sensitized and tormented, was suddenly being bathed in pure bliss. It was heaven. It was hell. He was so overwhelmed, he almost longed to return to the tickle torture. He wanted to whine, to beg for them to go back to teasing him, to turning him into their permanent tickleslut.

Instead, his cock started to throb as his kitten's pussy contracted around him. His screams started to get higher and higher, in time with her panted mewls.

And she was mewing as she started to get closer and closer. Her breaths were heaving. She was glistening with sweat. her ears were flattened to her sides, and her eyes were wild. "Please!" she cried, and he realized she wasn't talking to him at all. "P-please, no more!"

But whatever she was begging for, she didn't get it, because she only started to pant harder, to bounce faster in his lap.

Brist's eyes rolled up into his head as he came, as he felt his cock pump pulse after pulse of cum into her tight, wet pussy. The pleasure surged through him like a desert flood, blasting away all the dryhumping, all the tickling, all the scrublands and brush of his denial. His whole mind was unable to process it.

But his condition was nothing compared to hers. She was squealing in lust. "Aah! AAAAH! Please, no mooRREEAAAAUGH!"

He felt her juices squirting all over his cock, lubricating it further. She didn't stop. She was just babbling now, wordless as she rose up and down again and again. He cried out in tormented bliss. She wasn't stopping. She just kept mewling.

And after a minute or so, and four more of her yowling orgasms, he began to wonder if she could do anything else.

"Mmf?" he managed, staring into her wild green eyes.

She stared back at him, purring loudly. "Mew," she said sweetly, wriggling her hips around his shaft.

Brist blinked. He could feel his orgasm rising again, but there was something disturbing about all this. So despite all the programming in him, he reached up and delicately—his lips were still erotically sensitive and ticklish—pulled out the vine.

"Mistress?" he whispered. His voice sounded almost unfamiliar to him—so steeped had he been in his role as mute tickleslut.

She mewed again and giggled, caressing his cheek with one hand, then tickling him under his chin. He giggled and moaned, helpless against this, and for a few minutes, he couldn't think about anything to do with resisting. His whole body was a sensitized instrument, a hair trigger.

So he just lay there as she poured pleasure into him and pumped it back out into her. Whenever he even tried to rally his thoughts, she would tickle his sides, or his face, and his mind would go blank with obedient bliss again. But it wasn't teasing. Oh, no, she was not teasing him anymore.

Because right now, he and she were both coming. He cried out, babbling his pleasure-drunken thanks, and she just babbled. Whereas before he had been drowning in submission and tickle torture, now he was drowning in pure bliss. Every fiber of his new being told him he should reject this, should long to be teased and denied, but he couldn't resist anything that felt this good.

He hoped it never ended.

But it finally did end. It ended with a hand on her shoulder. "Sleep now," said a sweet, high-pitched voice. The voice was slightly breathy, and it carried a strangely familiar cadence.

The redhead's eyes went glazed, half-lidded, and then she slumped to the ground, slipping off of his member with an audible slurping sound.

Brist blinked as the speaker came into view.

It was the catgirl who'd hypnotized him before! 'Mew', the one they'd been waiting for! He stared up in awe at her gorgeous freckled face, longing for her to start teasing him the way her sisters had.

Instead, she stepped aside, and a beautiful blonde woman came into view. Brist blinked again, twice. It took him strangely long to remember the name.

"T-Trys?"

~~~~

Ia couldn't even thrash anymore. She was bound too tightly. She couldn't try to tune it out. It was infusing her whole being, now. Couldn't even curse her captors, as she knew this would get her punished even worse.

And she most definitely.

Could.

Not.

Come.

The massive runerod buzzed loudly, filling her with intense, all-consuming need. She wasn't even being given the chance to fake her submission anymore—Elly and her moth fairies were happily bringing her to not-orgasm after not-orgasm, with no pauses in between. She couldn't imagine a worse torture than this.

Two of the fairies had latched onto her breasts with their arms and legs and actually straddled her nipples, using them as bizarre sex toys. Their pussies sucked her nipples in hungrily, and she gasped, staring into their wide, lusty eyes as they attained orgasm after orgasm. The sensation was slick, unbearable, and heavenly. Ia had never thought of her nipples as sex organs before, but Elly's magic made them feel like they were.

The third fairy was flitting around her, giggling like mad. She had an enormous feather almost twice her height, and was currently using it to tickle Ia's soles and toes. The catgirl had turned her feet into erogenous zones, and Ia gasped and whined at every little touch, every feathery caress. Just the feather alone could bring her to a hundred desperately-needed, humiliating orgasms, she knew. If only Elly would allow it. If only Elly would call her a good girl.

And then there was Elly. Elly, with her long, slender, quick fingers. Elly, with her rough tongue, her lush lips, her gleaming eyes, loud purr, and perky catlike eats that betrayed unbearable horniness—horniness that was being very much seen to. Elly, with her rough, wicked, cruel tongue.

Mistress Elly was not kissing her. Was not licking her. With one hand, she happily shoved that big, ridged runerod...

... into her own cunt, letting out a constant stream of happy moans. And Ia watched. And drooled.

"You'd like this, wouldn't you, Ia?" Elly cooed in Ia's ear, tickling her lobe. Ia shook uncontrollably. "You'd like this big, fat cock in you, huh?"

"Unh..." Ia's mouth and pussy were both horribly empty. With so much pleasure everywhere else, it was an unbearable hollowness. Not tongue on her pussy. Not even a feather. No kisses on her panting lips. She was free to speak.

And, oh, the things she was saying...

"Please!" she gasped. "Oh, please, I want—I wannit! Please-please-please gimme cock!" She bucked her hips, humping the air to no avail.

Elly smirked. "Oh, no, Ia, you don't want this cock.” The runerod exited her pussy with a sticky-wet sound, and Ia's breath caught in her throat as it pounded back in. “This cock'll make you come, and you don't wanna come. Doesn't this feel nice already?"

And for emphasis, the third fairy fluttered over and tickled her sole.

Ia couldn't help it. She moaned. "Yeah," she whimpered, despite knowing how bad it would screw her. And not literally. She couldn't help herself anymore. “Feels good, feels so good...”

"I thought so!" Elly purred, giving Ia's neck a little tantalizing lick before pulling away. She pouted her lips at Ia, as the catgirl's lips down below drooled and dribbled with yet another orgasm. Elly's self-control was unbelievable—the only sign she had come was the little sparkle of bliss in her eyes. Ia was desperate to feel that way. "My little Ia loves being teased, doesn't she? She wasn't wanna come, because coming means she's been a good girl." She giggled. “And she's too smart to be a good girl!”

"Oh, Mistress, please," Ia whimpered. She'd already given in to calling Elly 'Mistress', at least out loud. "Lemme come. Lemme come! Just once! I'll be a good girl!"

"Nuh-uh!" Elly shoved the runerod into herself, gasping faintly as it visibly vibrated inside her. "You wanna feel this way forever, I bet, 'cause you're so smart!"

Ia squirmed as the sucking at her breasts became slightly more intense. "P-please," she whimpered. She was near tears again.

She knew what Elly wanted. Knew what would get Elly to give her that runerod. And she knew she had no other way. But she could never say it. Never, ever.

Elly let out a low moan, leaning close. She was so close her lips were touching Ia's, just barely. Ia's resolve rattled from the intimacy with her Mistr—with Elly. Her eyes bored into Ia's, filling the knight's whole consciousness. "Ia's a smart girl," she husked. "Ia wants to keep her head. She knows that I can fuck her brains out if I want to, mind control or no. Doesn't she?"

"Yes," Ia whined, “yes, yes, yes!"

"Is that what we want?"

Ia bit her lip hard. Yes, her needy pussy sang, yes, yes, gods, yes!

"See?" Elly giggled. "Ia's a smart girl, and she doesn't wanna be a bimbo. And only bimbos give in to stuff like this. So she's gonna stay like this for the rest of the month!"

Month? Ia struggled to keep her calm. Trys would save her. Someone would save her.

No one cared enough to save her.

"My little Ia really proved me wrong," Mistress Elly hissed, as Ia cried out from the tickling on her thigh. It felt heavenly. It was horrible. "I thought I could break her, but look how strong she is! She's already held up ten minutes!"

Ten minutes? No, she's—she's lying! It has to have been longer! Ia screwed her eyes shut as she felt Elly's hand barely graze her inner thigh. She didn't know anymore. She didn't know what time it was, how much longer she could hold out. All she knew was the torturous lust that Elly had filled her with.

"I haven't even gotten this out yet!" Elly sang, and Ia heard her draw something out with her free hand. Ia's eyes opened unwillingly.

Elly was holding a long, thin paintbrush.

"But I know it won't matter," Elly whispered confidentially, bringing the paintbrush down lower and lower. Ia's lip quivered. "Because Ia doesn't wanna be my bimbo, does she? She wants to be strong. A strong, tough girl who will stay here for years if she has to.” She laughed. “And she will have to, won't she?”

Ia felt the paintbrush tickling her belly, and her spirit quailed as a host of unwelcome giggles escaped her. But the paintbrush kept climbing lower. "Please, no," she gasped, giggling. "Heehee! Please! No!"

"Ia's so strong," Elly cooed, "she won't even mind if I do this!"

And the paintbrush flicked over her pussy lips.

Ia's eyes widened. She trembled uncontrollably. "Elly," she whined, "please, please no. I'll be yours! I'll fuck you, I'll lick you, but please, don't—"

Elly cupped her chin in her hand and forced Ia to look her in the eye. The catgirl's ears were perky. She was excited. Her eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, and Ia wondered if she was actually orgasming right now.

“Mistress,” she said, her voice soft and deceptively sweet.

Ia stared at her. Realized her mistake.

“Mistress,” she whispered, “please don't do this. P-ple—heehee!” She squirmed helplessly as the fairy tickled her little toe. “Please!”

"You're so clever and smart," Elly cooed, leaning in. "You would never wanna be my horny bimbo. Never wanna be my whimpering slutty slave."

"M-Mistress—" The paintbrush tickled Ia's lips again, and she had to bite her lip hard to keep from being consumed in laughter. "I'll l-love you!" she squealed. "Just please don't... don't..."

"Don't what?" Elly giggled. "Don't this?"

The paintbrush touched her clit.

It did not tickle. It did not move. It didn't even rest there; it just touched the clit once, then left.