The Pit of Pleasure 3

by Iona Holye

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© Copyright 2014 - Iona Holye - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF+/mf+; majick; creatures; trap; bond; rope; vines; plants; tendriles; insert; captives; dungeon; chairtie; bdsm; whip; torment; tease; mythical; fantasy; climax; cons/reluct; X

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Part Three

Jarell stood at the midpoint between the two women, the human witch still wracked by the jolts of her own magic and the dark elf matriarch. He’d tied her flat against a whipping post, setting a flogger into the most ingenious mechanism the dwarves had devised for him.

“It’s a very simple game,” he said, touching the swinging arm lightly. “Every time Lady N’ventual there moves, that changes the pressure in the… well, to be honest, I wasn’t paying attention to the technical details. Neither were most of the dwarven women by the end, so there’s a chance that the engineering might not be perfect, but I’m willing to bet that it will work for now.”

K’ana screamed something incoherent through her ring gag as the flogger swung round to slap against her buttocks. She writhed backwards, and a moment later, Lady N’ventual screamed.

“Oh, and every time you move, it builds up the charge for her. Isn’t that fun? Not what you expected, I know, but still fun.”


Crystal looked around at the garden. It shouldn’t have existed down here in the dark, and yet it did. A sun-lit, shining square of grass about thirty yards on a side. There were flowers, grass, even a few trees and small butterflies fluttering along. She wasn’t the only one who seemed to appreciate it.

“This is beautiful!” Tara said, spinning around happily. “Can we take a break for a minute? Can we? Can we? We could have a picnic!”

This was what came of having an elven druidess in the party. Right then, Crystal wasn’t in the mood for a picnic. She was tired, bruised, and had spent most of the last few minutes with both Brunhilde and Urik lingering far too close to her for comfort. She still wasn’t sure which of them had pinched her bottom in the last tunnel.

“I’m not sure a picnic is such a good idea, Tara,” Crystal said.

Lord Antram seemed to agree. “We are in the middle of a serious quest.”

“Urik does not picnic.”

“Neither do I,” Brunhilde said.

“Haven’t you ever just wanted to sunbathe naked amongst the flowers?” Tara countered.

Crystal couldn’t help noting the way all the other eyes there went to the elf.

“Well, when you put it like that…” Urik said.

“Here,” Brunhilde added, “let me help you with your outfit.”

Crystal caught Lord Antram’s eye, but even he seemed to be caught up in it. Also, he definitely wasn’t looking her in the eye.

“I suppose a short break couldn’t do any harm.”

Tara beamed. “Oh goody. Now picnicus appearus!”

She waved a hand, and a picnic appeared on the grass, complete with hamper and striped tablecloth. Idly, Crystal wondered if she might be able to wrap that around herself afterwards. At least it explained a lot about why druids were so famed for their ability to find food out in the wilderness.

She sat down, and so did the others. Urik helped himself to a buttered scone. True to her word, Tara slipped out of her not particularly substantial under things, lying face down on the grass and kicking her heels in the air happily. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that Brunhilde, and even Lord Antram, sat as close as they could get without it being obvious that they really weren’t interested in the picnic. Although Brunhilde managed to stay fairly close to Crystal too. She whispered something to Tara that made the elf giggle.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. Well, maybe after the quest.”

Still, if the others were busy leering over either Tara or more literal crumpet, at least it gave Crystal a brief break from their attentions. She resolved to make the most of the moment, lying back on the grass and closing her eyes, her hands behind her head for a pillow.

She must have drifted off momentarily, because the next thing she knew she was blinking awake as someone near her cried out. Lots of someones, in fact. Crystal’s eyes snapped open, hunting around automatically for an escape route.

She was just in time to see Brunhilde being lifted into the air by her ankles, what looked like long green rope wrapped around them. No, not rope, she realised, creepers. Looking around, Crystal could see that all her companions were airborne now, hoisted up by creepers and vines that wrapped and lifted, holding them helplessly.

Crystal tried to stand, and something snagged her ankle, cinching tight around it. She tried to yank clear and it yanked back, pulling her straight off her feet.

“Hey! Let go!”

It didn’t. Instead, more vines snaked around her, wrapping and coiling in a way that was far too intelligent for a mere plant. They dragged her arms behind her, pulling Crystal’s elbows almost together. Others wrapped around her ankles, pulling those apart as they lifted her. Before her, she could see Tara’s lithe and naked form pulled back against one of the trees in the small garden, bound to it at a dozen points. Creepers had forced their way down into her mouth, and into far more intimate areas too. A thick tendril of plant was pushing between her thighs, while a flower had sprouted in just the right spot to tickle the elf woman’s clitoris, making her squirm in her bonds.

The others seemed to be in similar predicaments, and either the plant was good at undressing people, or they’d been further along with their “picnic” than Crystal had thought, because they were all as naked as her and Tara. All three had vines pushing down into their mouths, although there the similarities ended.

Brunhilde was bent backwards into an arch by vines running from her ankles to her hair. Other vines wrapped around and around her breasts, squeezing them into huge globes that were then tickled by protruding flowers. Her hands were caught in a tangle of vines that held them to a tree trunk, while more vines disappeared between her legs.

Lord Antram was flat on his back on the lawn, held in place by roots that held him spread eagled. A single huge flower engulfed his manhood, and from the muffled sounds he was making, it was definitely doing something there. Vines criss-crossed his chest, pinning him.

Urik was held with his arms trapped behind him by vines. They pulled him back, but the vines working on the front of him definitely wouldn’t make that comfortable. They wrapped around the frankly impressive length of him, tugging and pulling in a way that drew moans from the barbarian. Or maybe that was just the second vine, disappearing neatly into his backside.

Crystal could see where this was going. “Now wait just a… mmph!”

The tendril snuck in past her lips and teeth while she was complaining, its bulbous end big enough that she could barely breathe past it. When she screamed, it thrust deeper for a moment, all the way into her throat, before pulling back out again. She felt another creeper slither up the inside of her thigh, parting her nether lips and pushing its way slickly inside her while she moaned at the intrusion. A third brushed against her bottom and Crystal tried to push it away by wiggling in place, but that only seemed to excite it. Like so many men of her acquaintance. It pushed inside her with almost aching slowness.

That didn’t seem to be all though. Smaller, slender vines made their way up to Crystal’s breasts, wrapping around and around them, the same way that they had with Brunhilde’s, wrapping tight enough that Crystal could feel her breasts throbbing with it. Or maybe that was just the vines. In fact, it was definitely the vines. She could feel the one in her mouth pulsing now, pushing in and out, while slowly, the ones that had entered her below started to do the same. Then, as she started to get a little slicker, not so slowly.

“Ooo d!”

Pleasure built up in her, moment by moment, not helped by the fact that her vines had sprouted flowers the same as those of the others. They brushed at her skin, teasing, tormenting, while all the while Crystal had to hang suspended, her arms held painfully tight. It was all she could do to time her breathing to the thrusts of the tendril in her mouth, while in front of her Tara, Brunhilde and the boys seemed to be having the same problems. Any minute now, she would…

Crystal screamed incoherently as she came, and the plant didn’t stop. Didn’t show any signs of stopping. Accordingly, when the first whispers came in her mind, Crystal put it down to delirium brought on by an excess of… well, excess.

You know, even hanging there like that, you look really great. Tell me, is it doing the thing with… no, wait, I can tell it is.


Think it, silly. With these vine things, mind to mind is the only way. Well, mind to groin to plant to mind, technically, but…

Crystal steeled herself, and then thought as hard as she could. Tara?

Who else? Oh gods, that’s good. Sorry. Where was I?

How are you doing this? Crystal thought at the elf woman, and then moaned as the plant pulled her up a little closer to Tara. The movement pulled harder at her breasts, so that it felt like she might end the day a couple of barbarian chain mail cup sizes larger than she’d started.

Well, druids are taught to commune with plants. Tara thought at her. Though not usually in ways that are so…

She paused as somewhere to Crystal’s left, Brunhilde made a sound something like an ox being slaughtered. Crystal guessed she was coming. Then had her own problems as the tendrils pushing into her in front and behind found a new, more synchronised rhythm.

Sorry, I’m at the centre of the loop, so I’m getting feedback from everyone, Tara thought her way. This is like the best trip ever.


Plus, the best sex I’ve had, although that’s not saying much when you consider that the average elf-

Tara! Crystal thought. Are you telling me that you might be able to get some control of this thing.

In front of her, the bound figure of the elf shrugged. It looked like just about the only movement she might be capable of. Well, yes. I think so. It’s basically just a plant mind that feeds off human pleasure, so-

Then don’t you think you should be getting us out of this?

There’s no need to snap.

Crystal felt the tendrils lower her to the ground, inch by inch. Although the inches she felt more came as the vines pulled out of her with almost excruciating slowness. The plant finally loosed its grip on her, sending her sprawling on the grass. Looking around, she could see Brunhilde, Lord Antram and Urik doing the same. The three of them grabbed for their fallen weapons, standing and very carefully not making eye contact.

Tara was still pressed up against the tree though. Her bound form was writhing now, still held in place, still with the vines thrusting in and out of her.

“Tara,” Crystal called out. “You can get it to let you go now.”

The vine pulled out of the elf woman’s mouth, although it still stood poised beside her.

“No,” Tara said, and the strain in her voice was obvious. Although that might just have been that the flower poised over her clitoris was moving urgently. “I have control, but if I let go for a moment, it will attack you again. You’ll have to leave me.”

“But-” Lord Antram began.

“Leave me, damn it! Can’t you see I’m enj… that is, can’t you see I’m joined to this thing and have to keep my hold on it? You can pick me up on the way back.”

“But won’t it still attack us then?” Brunhilde demanded. She held a battle axe like she suspected some tree felling was in order.

“I’m hoping to have exhausted it by then,” Tara shot back. “Oh, oh…”

The tendril shoved its way back into the elf woman’s mouth. From what Crystal could see, she didn’t look entirely unhappy about it.


Oriae tried to close her mouth to the segmented steel tentacle that tried to force its way between her lips, but that just meant that the one shoving into her from the front gave off a small jolt of lightning. As she screamed, in went the tentacle. Oriae struggled to suck it.

She still hadn’t climaxed. Not with the tickling, not with the anal plug. Not with the sudden blast of water directed at her groin when the human girl had been caught in the tube, nor with the jolts of electricity playing over her body. The small whip that had started delivering stinging blows every time she looked in the direction of Jarell’s private playroom was just raising welts, while the tentacles weren’t quite pulsing enough. Nothing would let her cum…

“It seems to be some sort of pressure plate arrangement,” Gnaasha said.

The floor of this cavern was divided up into squares, of a dozen or more different colours, with symbols painted on them seemingly at random. The door out was at the far end, with what looked very much like a picture frame above it.

Eoline wasn’t really in a position to appreciate it. Naked now, her arms were back in the arm binder, the straps crossing between her breasts that made her feel it every time she breathed. Xantha had made good use of K’ana’s fallen whips, tying one around Eoline’s throat to use as a leash while using the other to prompt her every time she fell behind or complained at being bound up so much.

“So how do we get across safely?” Illia asked. The magus seemed faintly pleased that she wasn’t the one subject to Xantha’s attentions at the moment.

Eoline saw the shift in the picture frame, a symbol appearing. “It looks like we stand on the right things. Ow! Xantha, I’m allowed to make suggestions.”

“Oh, I love party games,” Gnaasha said.

“I have a suggestion for you,” Xantha snapped. “You can go first, Eoline.”

Eoline didn’t argue. Mostly because Xantha’s whip smacked into her buttocks as she opened her mouth to argue. Hastily, she found a red square with a triangle on it to stand on. Then a blue bird shape, then a taupe dodecahedron. Xantha followed along behind her, and the hardest part was that the whip pulled tight every time Xantha had to move more than a few squares to get the colour she needed at the same time as Eoline, making the priestess gasp for air. The fact that she didn’t have her arms for balance didn’t help either.

Illia certainly seemed to have an easier time of it, skipping from square to square with the ease of someone who had clearly spent a lot of time playing these demonic games before. Eoline found herself what it would be like to play this game with the mage in a more private setting, possibly with a bottle of oil or-

“Pay attention, priestess.” Xantha yanked her back from an impending misstep hard enough that Eoline gagged.

“My turn,” Gnaasha called out, practically jumping onto the board. That was a mistake, mostly because the squares were clearly designed for creatures with actual legs, not for snake-things with a footprint that covered a good four squares.

A rumbling sound came from above.

“Something’s happening,” Eoline said. “We have to hurry.”

Which was easier said than done, tied to Xantha. Still, she hopped as fast as she could. Behind her, she heard Gnaasha cry out.

“That was blue pi symbol, you stupid thing!”

Except that it clearly hadn’t been, because the lamia’s tail had sunk down into a space that had opened up in the floor, obviously trapped. As Eoline watched, Gnaasha lashed out, punching another section of floor. Her hand disappeared into that one.


“Eoline, go and help her,” Xantha said.


“If you don’t, then it could be war with the lamias, and then we’ll probably all end up so stupid that we’ll read the tabloids.”

Eoline tried to reason with her. “But I’m still tied up. I can’t actually… ow! All right. All right. I’m going.”

She hopped back across the board to where the stricken lamia lay trapped.

“Here,” she offered, “if you kind of wrap one arm around me, maybe we can…”

It didn’t help. Eoline pulled as hard as she dared, and the only result was to topple Gnaasha over, onto her back, her last free arm trapped as the rest of her was. Eoline only managed to avoid falling by hopping up onto the lamia’s body.

“Mmm…” Gnaasha said. “I knew the night would end with a hot dark elf naked on top of me. Now if you could just… hey, what’s that?”

Something was falling from the ceiling. Eoline ducked down, hoping it wasn’t acid, or poison, or…

“It’s, ow, hot wax,” she shouted to the others as the first droplets struck her. “It’s… ow, raining hot wax.”

“Are you sure?” Xantha demanded, from a few paces away, and then winced as droplets started to fall on her. “Ow! Definitely wax. We need to get out of here.”

“But what about Gnaasha?” Eoline demanded. “Won’t there be a war?”

“What sort of idiot would think that?” Xantha countered, and then snapped her whip leash tight as Eoline started to answer, making her squirm atop the lamia. Gnaasha seemed to enjoy the sensation. “Now come on. Sorry, Gnaasha.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” the lamia said, arching her back in apparent pleasure as a falling stream of it hit her. “This reminds me of the time I went out with that balrog who… oh, that’s the spot,” she finished as a stream of wax poured across her ample breasts.

They ran, or at least hopped. Eoline did her best to keep up with Xantha, but again and again, she found the leash snapping tight. Somehow, Eoline managed to keep her balance. At least until the end. She felt the moment when her footing gave way a moment before she started to fall, and-

“Oh no you don’t!” Xantha snapped, and her other whip lashed out, wrapping around and around Eoline’s body in a smooth curve that ended with its tip smacking neatly against the delicate flesh of her cunt.


Xantha jerked the whip, and Eoline found herself dragged against the dark elf woman, pressed tightly up against her wedding dress.

“You are not getting yourself caught that easily,” Xantha said.

Eoline looked up at her, and in that moment, she would have gladly knelt and shown the other woman how grateful she was with lips and tongue, fingers and… well, all the skills of a priestess. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t. I just want to make sure there’s someone there to preside over my wedding when I find that husband-slut Ssethen. Now come on.”


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