Interrogation

Interrogation

Those fiends!

First five seconds, I held hopes of them rushing to ravish me and melt my brain with a ghostly climax. An hour later, I understood that release was not on their agenda.

Their slick ghostly caress slid all over me. My butt, my back, inner thighs. Theirs was the touch smoothest silk, if silk had the skills of a grandmaster masseur. A cruel perverted grandmaster masseur, who uses their powers not for comfort, but for—

“A-ahnn... Close. There... There, please, please, oh please press it a little longer,” I pleaded, shivering on the edge, as oily slick fingers tweaked my pointy ears. My inner muscles began to clench, climax impending. My fists tightened, and toes curled in anticipation.

I begged. I moaned, leaning against the hand’s divine touch, while two dozen more groped softly at my body. “Pleasepleasepleasepleasssshh...”

A second more and I'd cum.

All hands ceased teasing at that second.

“Haaaahhh!!” I shouted, screamed in anger.

Moments of hypersensitivity trembled by at glacial speed. I gasped for air, rubbing my thighs, humping, desperate to push myself over, but such pleasure was forbidden from me.

As my brain sailed in that fuzzy half-consciousness of yearning, the hands returned. One closed around my neck, too loose to choke. Another touched my lips, fleeing all attempts to be kissed. Four simply fondled my butt. Eight traced the outline of my legs over and over. Seven roamed my quivering abs, back, hefting my breasts, strategically avoiding so much as brushing my nipples. Four massaged my bound arms. Three more caressed my face, ears, and horns.

Gods, even my horns, which I’d thought almost numb, were beginning to feel the tingles!

And one hand—one measly hand—traipsed between my legs, dancing on the edges of my erogenous zones.

The slow buildup of tease began anew.

I scream-sobbed, frustrated beyond words!

Uncountable hours passed. My bondage began to chafe. Every muscle in my body trembled. Ghostly lubricant slid down every cranny and curve of my flesh, dripping into a puddle beneath me. I begged the hands to let me cum, pleaded with them, negotiated, threatened. Nothing took.

Time and time again, I neared the big-O, only to be denied.

Tears of frustration ran down my red hot cheeks. I was very much ready to throw in the towel, to grovel and beg, to humiliate myself if it meant climax.

Door opened. Trainer entered.

Yess!

“Hi lassie. How’s it hanging?”

“Miss th-trainer... Phlease...”

“Here, this’ll help.” She pressed my cheeks together, forcing my jaw open. I was force-fed soup, and gulped it down eagerly, not realizing how thirty and hungry I’d been. “Good girl.” She wiped spillage from my lips, and gave my cheek a humiliating pinch.

Helplessly aroused as I was, I could only think of a comeback as wet and floppy as my loins. “Please let me cum, Miss Trainer. You don’t need to train me to beg. I’ll do anything if you end this torment.” And I really would have. The burning was more insufferable than a hot summer day without aircon.

“Hmm?” She canted her head to the side, studying me sceptically. “Bark.”

“Wha?”

“Bark like a dog.”

A crumbling whimper died in my throat. “Ah... I...”

In a smooth motion, Trainer drew a curved dagger from her belt and pressed naked steel beneath my chin. I froze in abject terror. Cold sweat washed off my erotic heat. Trainer’s voice lowered to a growl as she leaned in. “Let’s redo the quiz again, lassie. This time, I catch so much as a whiff of a lie and... well, ah’m sure ye can imagine.”

I felt my heartbeat quicken against the dagger’s blade. I swallowed. “I-I understand.”

“Swell. Keep yer eyes on mine. Name?”

“Ion.”

“Ye knew we’d be in these woods, didn’t ye?”

“Y-yes.”

“Got any tracking spells on ye?”

“None that I’m aware of.”

“Hm. Ye a spy?”

“No.”

She paused. “But someone did send you here?”

“No.”

Trainer’s brows furrowed. “Ye some kinda vigilante then?”

“No.”

“But ye are ye tryin’ to catch us, right?”

“I’m not.”

“The Hells?” She blinked, her anger abated if only by a smidge. “Who the heck are ye then, and why’d ye come looking for trouble, if ye knew this was where ye’d end up in? An’ before ye speak: Think. Lies got only one kinda reward over here.”

I nodded, crumbling into a black hole of despair internally.

What the hecking heckity heck am I supposed to say to placate this bandit? If I’d ever been a good liar, those skills had all but evaporated during the few century fap-a-thon. No way was I fast-talking myself back into slutty luxury of sex-slavery. I’d restricted my body, including my mental faculties, to function on the level of a regular mortal. Trainer would see right through me.

My fun is over if she finds out that I’m a demi-goddess. That much was for certain, right? If this human knew she was a toy in the personal fun times of an immortal being of unimaginable power, she would never ever dare to raise her hand against me, much less treat me like the slutty horny slave-bitch I ached to be. At best she would go along with my request out of fear of punishment. At worst, she’d outright worship me.

Tears ran down my flushed cheeks. I whimpered in anger, frustrated at having to give up this pleasure so soon, yet unable to conceive a way out. I steeled myself for the inevitable loss, and spoke.

“I’m Ion, a demi-god of knowledge and magic. Servant of the Seven Star Celestial. I’ve been watching you turn women into sex slaves for years, and came here in a mortal disguise to experience it for myself. Truth be told, I’m a degenerate masochist. I love sexual abuse. I love being restrained, humiliated, and being treated like a cheap object. I’ve dreamt of being trained into a sex slave for centuries.”

There, my depravities were laid out naked for Trainer to laugh at.

Trainer blinked, retreating a step. “I... Uh, I’ll be right back.”

“No... wait! WAIT!” Door slammed shut before my screams. No matter how I struggled, the bonds held, and no matter how I begged, the hands once more descended upon me, dragging me back into that ecstatic agony of near climax.