Nice and Slow

Isabelle struggled, pulling at the cuffs binding her wrists and stamping her feet in frustration. If she could just use her magic, she'd be out of this dungeon in no time. An angry growl and a huff came from her throat, spraying flecks of drool from behind her gag; how shameful that she was completely powerless with three simple bindings. The gag kept her from invoking her magic, the cuffs kept her arms behind her back, and her thumbs were even tied together to further hamper her movement (as well as keeping her from using her non-verbal spells).

She flopped down onto the cot of her cell, grunting in mild pain as she landed on her bound wrists, but she had become numb at this point. She had lost track of just how long it had been since she was brought to this cell and left here. More than an hour at least. Her jaw was getting agonizingly sore. As she tried to calm herself and think back on the timing, her thoughts went to how she ended up here in the first place.

There was that dragoon, that dark haired ruffian, who ambushed her on her travels. Isabelle had tried to fight her off by using her quickest and most powerful spells in rapid combination, but the dragoon had somehow endured the initial barrage... and her response was even faster. Isabelle groaned, still feeling the strike to her core, and the wind being knocked out of her, before she was trussed up and thrown onto a dragon's back. After that, she was brought to this fortress, and then to this dungeon cell. Isabelle didn't know why she was left here, alone, after all the trouble her captor went in subduing...

Footsteps snapped Isabelle from her thoughts. With a bit of squirming, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and looked out into the halls of the dungeon. Approaching her cell was another woman: a beautiful, blonde woman in the garb of the church (although her outfit was torn in several places). Did she come to liberate her? Why would someone of the cloth be in a place like this? Isabelle squinted and squirmed, as she started to wonder if she hadn't seen this woman before.

The door to the cell opened, and the woman stepped in. For a brief moment, Isabelle allowed herself the idea of freedom. As she spoke, though, those ideas were quickly dashed.

'My mistress is ready and demands your presence.'

'Mmph. Errm mmm,' Isabelle garbled, before she spat against her gag, cursing it now more than ever, with so many questions running through her head. She yelped as the woman suddenly yanked her to her feet, her hands tight on her arm and in her hair, forcing her to march forward and out of the cell.

Isabelle continued to moan and struggle as she was marched out of the dungeon and through the corridors of the fortress, the woman restraining her being ominously quiet but for her breathing. What concerned Isabelle most were those eyes; not lifeless, but certainly dull and distant. Eventually, she was marched into the throne room of her captor's fortress. Sure enough, standing there in the middle of it, was the dragoon who brought her here.

''Oorteh...' she growled into her gag.

Forte smirked over her shoulder, looking away from the strange white cross that looked rather out of place in the middle of the room; no doubt setting it up was why she had left Isabelle alone in the dungeon. 'I had a feeling some time alone wouldn't have cooled your head, but I had to try. Eris: untie her and then help me secure her to this. Leave the gag though.'

The priest woman, Eris, shoved Isabelle towards the x-shaped cross before undoing the cuffs and the rope tying her thumbs together. Before Isabelle could make use of the freedom of her wrists and hands, Forte and Eris both took an arm between them, and shoved her up against the cross, securing her wrists with leather cuffs. As Isabelle struggled, the cuffs the two used to secure her ankles were little more than a formality at this point.

Forte and Eris stepped back from the cross, watching as Isabelle thrashed and cursed at them. Eris looked to Forte, and asked, 'Is she as pleasing as you hoped, my lady?'

Forte looked back to Eris with (what seemed to Isabelle was) surprising tenderness, and stroked her chin. 'Oh yes... but you shouldn't worry. You are still the most beautiful, and my most favourite, jewel in the hoard.'

Isabelle stopped her struggling to stare wide eyed, as Forte and Eris began to kiss. She couldn't believe it: as she watched her captors' lips softly roll against each other, she realized that she hadn't seen such affection since herself and Kyle, many years ago. There was no way this dragoon brute and this woman, who was clearly a captive like her, could care for each other half as much as she and her deceased fiancé.

With a sigh, the two broke apart the kiss and stepped away. Forte took her seat on the ominous throne, already lounging in a way that made her look even more villainous to Isabelle. Eris approached Isabelle and, after a brief pause, suddenly grabbed at the chest of her outfit. She then yanked on it, not quite exposing Isabelle's breasts, but certainly exposing her skin. As Isabelle shrieked and shouted strings of muffled protests, Eris looked to Forte, for approval, and for permission.

Forte smirked. With the hand she wasn't resting on she produced a red candle which she tossed to Eris. 'You may begin, pet.'

'Thank you, my lady. I hope this continues to please you.' Eris produced a match, lit the candle, and turned to face Isabelle, putting the candle in her face, to watch as the wax began to melt.

Isabelle would've been terrified of the suddenly wicked and evil smile spreading on Eris's face, where before it had been so blank, but for the affectionate looks she gave to her mistress. However, Isabelle was more focused on the candle and its melting wax, having a good idea what was to come. Her eyes quivered and she whimpered into her gag as she waited in dread anticipation of what was to come.

'You seemed in such a rush during our fight, sorceress,' Forte boasted from her throne. 'I think you need to relearn patience. So we're going to take this...' An evil, teeth bearing smirk spread on her lips. 'Nice and slow.'

Story by Hoshino
Artwork by SednaStudio-QWZ

High resolution (2479x3506)

Instantly view and download all of our Transform Comics...