A World of Delights Ch. 06

DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS HEREIN ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. I do not condone any abuse of any kind IRL, and everything herein is just fantasy. Do not attempt to re-enact anything you read here.

All BDSM activities should be Safe, Sane and Consensual. What I describe in my stories is varying degrees of abuse which make for wonderful fantasies, but would in reality be awful.

To quote the wonderful Gigglinggoblin: Real-life con-noncon requires a lot of trust, safewords, and other things a fantasy can fudge a little. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story!

If you feel inclined, please get in touch! I'd love to talk about my writing or any related kink stuff! Here on Literotica you can use "Contact", "Send Private Feedback", or leave a comment!

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Summary: A guy escapes from a confined walled city to explore the world that was abandoned years ago. What will he find? Monstergirls. Lots of em

Contains: F/fm, monstergirls, gentle femdom, femdom, bondage, lots of tickling, milking, tease and denial, edging.

DARK THEMES: Bad-ends aka permanent/semi-permanent slavery or capture, semi-creepy monstergirls.

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[This chapter is inspired in part by a writer long since lost to time, wherever they are I hope they are well. This is a continuation of Chapter 5's Bad End, for continuity's sake!]

It had been eight days since Mommy- no, the bird woman, had captured him. Or rather, since he had fallen into her nest... her trap.

In that time, Rick had been subjected to a seemingly endless cycle of being breastfed, tickled, cuddled, and milked to mind-bending orgasms. His entire body was now so unfathomanly sensitive that if he strayed from within her protective... or rather, entrapping wings, the feathers of the nest would swiftly overwhelm his senses, sending him into a mix of erotic euphoria and ticklish hysteria.

Even so, whenever she shifted her body, even slightly, her feathers would ever so delicately trace across his naked, vulnerable body. It rarely woke him, so utterly exhausted was he from her constant maternal attentions, but it had the effect of ensuring even in his sleep he was under constant ticklish assault, and his dreams - or nightmares - never strayed far from the living nightmare of the nest he now inhabited.

Rick may yet have attempted escape, despite the ticklish ordeal it would have involved, but whenever she wasn't in the nest - where her attention would inevitably be fully upon him - he was bound in those soft, spongy vines. Even when he slept within her wings, she usually kept a leash around his neck, wrist or ankle, which was connected to her own. If he strayed too far... she would be woken, and unerringly decide her baby boy was 'thirsty', his straining stomach be damned, or had 'too much energy' and needed to 'burn some off'. Thus he would either be forcibly breastfed by her shockingly thick nipple, milked to a toe-curling, eye-rolling orgasm, or tickled until he was utterly senseless. Usually all three at once - the price for attempting escape, and yet it was little different from his daily torments...

He shivered at the thought. Even once when he had shifted in his sleep and unintentionally woken her, she had simply smiled at his sleeping form, and taken it as an excuse to torture him. He had awoken to the feeling of being entrapped within her thick limbs, confusing it for a motherly cuddle before the teasing torture began all over again.

Tonight, though, he was not yet asleep. The moon shone down into the nest, gently illuminating the feathery cage that had become his home. He had no intention of risking escape that night, despite the urge to be free still burning within him. That urge had been slightly dimmed by the fogginess of his mind, though, as well as some emotions he was starting to feel that the rebellious side of him wasn't willing to admit existed.

Rick stared at... her. The massive woman whose pink wings kept him safe... but also trapped. Her soft, kind face was so endearing, yet he knew how quickly her gentle smile could twist, become placid, at the slightest sign of his disobedience. Yet... she cared for him. It was clear despite everything, she obviously did... love him. He stared into those massive breasts of hers, never too far away, always looming with their creamy promise... His heart beat a little faster.

He wouldn't be escaping tonight. No, he instead would risk something far less brave, even if the consequences for being caught might have been just as dire...

Rick pushed his hand through the embrace of her feathery wings, and winced, choking back laughter as his sensitive wrists and forearms were subjected to her ticklish vice. Down he plunged his arm into the ticklish morass of her feathery bedding, and as her wings traced further and further up his arm as a result, the harder and harder it became to keep his laughter in check.

He physically clamped a hand over his own throat to strangle any cry, and winced at what was coming... fishing his hand around, he swirled his arm through the feathers, and felt for his prize. Tears flowed down his cheeks as his overly-sensitive armpit raked across her ticklish feathers again and again, and he felt the leash around his neck - connected to her wrist - give a slight tug.

Forcing himself to be still for a moment, he summoned the last reserves of his mental strength, biting his lip to try to quench the ticklish sensations threatening to erase any senses he had remaining. For a moment his fingers grazed something that wasn't feathers or branches, and he honed in, feeling around, until he retrieved it. Now, carefully, he pulled it out... sliding it delicately between her feathers, and brought it to rest upon his chest.

Slowly, nervously, he turned to check that Mommy... his captor... was still sleeping. Half expecting the cold piercing blue to meet him, he shuddered out a sigh of relief as he tried to relax himself - her eyes were closed. She was still asleep.

He looked upon his prize. A small victory that kept the hope of his eventual escape alive. His book had remained hidden under the feathers all this time. He had a few days ago by chance felt his foot kick against it while being tickled half to death by his Mommy... his... motherly captor.

The light of the moon was more than sufficient to read by, and he cautiously, silently, turned the pages. This was why he had left the city, after all. These images. For a moment he cast his mind back to those fleeting days of freedom he had known, walking, exploring...

Exploring what? The question came unbidden from a voice in his head that, slowly, had been growing louder since his capture.

Exploring what? The question came again. Ruins? Empty buildings devoid of anything of value or interest?

He turned the page. A 'Beach Resort'. Men and women... all half naked, lying on sand, next to... it must be the ocean. Massive stretches of water lit by the sun. His eyes rested on a woman in a purple swimsuit, beautiful... He would never see the ocean. Or other people.

So? The voice asked. You left the city for a reason. Now you have Mommy. She's all you need.

Biting his tongue to drive the voice away, he flipped a few pages forward.

A 'Theme Park'. So much colour... and strange buildings. Everyone was smiling. What had it been used for? He read on. Fun, games... enjoyment... relaxation. The chapter was called 'Recreation', so it made sense. These were all the places people went to have fun before.

Before... what? Before some unknown thing forced them to live in walled cities.

He cast a wary eye at the pink feathers which now closed in around him. Rick had begun to suspect he now had an answer to that old question.

'Dating'.

The pages of this chapter were frayed and worn. He had read it before. Enough times, in fact, he could have quoted it word for word.

It was the picture he cared for most, though.

A guy, a girl, sat at a table. A candle burned, and they smiled. Her chin was in her hands, and he was drinking something red. The way she looked at him, smiled at him... it wasn't just lust, or avarice. It was pure, strong... love.

The way Mommy looked at him.

No, he shut his eyes, forcing his palms into them to drive the thought back. She didn't love him like that. He wasn't her partner, he was her child... her pet. She wanted to keep him here forever.

Keep him safe.

Slowly, he shook his head. He wanted more than this. He had left to be free, and this was... just another cage.

Mommy gives you everything you need.

He let the book cover his face, the cool page a slight relief. In that picture he saw himself and Jessica, and what might have been. Prisoners, maybe, but at least they were together, sharing the same cell. Here he shared a cell with his jailor...

She would never have left, never have come with him... but if she had, he knew, she would just be trapped in this nest with him now. Dimly, he imagined Mommy... the woman calling herself his Mommy... would have only been delighted to have two babies to coddle and confine rather than just him.

Mommy's good boy. Mommy's baby boy.

His stomach groaned. For a moment he felt himself rolling to the side, eyes wandering back to her milky, leaky nipples, which had become the sole source of sustenance she gave him.

He stopped himself, arm frozen in the air, inches from those heaving bosoms of hers. He had been reaching for them, without even realising it. Was he insane? Why had he done that?

He was hungry. He wanted to suckle.

No. This was bad. A cold chill ran through him. He hadn't even thought about it, that time. His body had just been acting on its own. He was running out of time.

Rick set the book aside atop her wing, and stared up, past her wing, at the moon... and the gap through which she came and went as she pleased. Climbing would be tough. He had tried. He might fail again... but he had to try.

For over an hour, he worked at the vine around his neck until it was loose. Pinching the far end so it wouldn't accidentally tug at Mommy's wrist, that left him just one hand to work with. It was so frustrating, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep working. A single mistake, a single pull of her wrist, and it would be over. She would instantly know what he had been doing...

At last, he slipped it over his head, an inch at a time, and slid free.

Slipping through her wings was surprisingly easy. They were, by design, incredibly soft and pliable. He shuffled out head first, but was forced, in order to crawl on his belly, to drag his now overly-sensitive and tired cock across her silky smooth wing... which left him with a raging erection that sent his heart racing.

That would have to wait, though, no matter how demanding his libido might be. Even if he had wanted to, which he admitted part of him did, his orgasms left him even more sensitive afterwards, a fact his Mommy... no his captor... was so delighted to take advantage of. Besides, he could swear his Mommy... no, he forced himself to think, his captor, could smell his arousal. Whenever he had attempted to relieve himself at night, she had inevitably been awoken, no matter how quiet he had tried to keep his sensitive squeals of pleasure.

The hardest part would not be making his way through the feathers that lined the floor of the nest, either. If he was slow enough then, while torturous, it was possible to do. No, the climb was always where he failed. Where he fell. Fell back into her feathers. Back into her arms.

Into Mommy's loving embrace.

Rick steeled himself for the climb, the ordeal he knew was to come. His cock throbbed, and in the back of his mind, doubts swelled. As did his thirst...

He had to get out of there. Tonight. The feathers did their job, working into every crevice, and ensuring every move was as difficult as possible, but he climbed.

His breathing came ragged as, looking down, he saw he had barely climbed six feet from the tickly tide of feathers below. Reaching up, his armpit was exposed as he moved, and he winced. His sensitive nipples already ached from the constant feathering they had received. Not to mention his cock, feathers haf lapped at it tantalisingly, and it was practically begging for him to reach down and fuck his hand to his own doom. If he came... there was no way he'd be able to hold on, not to mention Mommy would no doubt be roused by his arousal...

Rick's thighs, tensed from the climb and the ticklish sensations, were rendered all the more sensitive, and thus all the more ticklish. But his true weakness, as he had learned to his horror the day he had been captured, was his feet. Pressing his toes into the branches, he whimpered as quietly as he could. Finding purchase on the ticklish walls was a torture of its own.

As he climbed, though, he knew there would be less feathers as they thinned out. If he could just get a little higher, it would get easier... That was the only ray of hope that kept him going. That, and thoughts of...

He froze. The book! He'd left it on her wing! She would find it...

Not daring to look back, he swallowed, realising he had no choice now - he could never get back without her noticing. There was no way he could have carried the book with him, of course. His bag and his clothes were long since gone, shredded by her immense strength. That didn't matter anymore. He was leaving now; tonight.

A particularly distracting feather ran its way down the seam of his inner thigh, and caught the back of his coin purse. For a moment, he felt himself choking on laughter, but managed to force it back down.

The effort of keeping his laughter in was almost as exhausting as climbing when his body was so tense, but he pushed on. Every step brought him closer to freedom, and every moment the incline of the ceiling raised slightly. Soon he was bent back, having to scale a wall angled back against himself.

Now, though, blessedly, the feathers had lessened in density to merely be harrowing rather than tormenting in their constant ticklish tirade against his taut body. He felt sluggish, though. His stomach rumbled again, and he felt his tongue lapping at a phantom nipple. Rick longed to have her teat seated between his lips again, forcing its way into his throat and feeding him her poisoned cream...

Shaking his head, he felt his cock pressing against his stomach at the thought of sucklint again, and with every heartbeat it pulsed and ached. The thought of nursing from Mommy again was all he could think about.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was so close, so close now. He could feel the whisper of the wind on his hands now, a taunting promise of the freedom that was now so close, just,within his grasp.

Even so, he felt his grip slacken. His cock absolutely demanded that he stroke himself, NOW. Biting, he tried to marshall his thoughts, forcing down his libidinous desire to stroke his cock and damn himself, falling down into the fluffy prison just below from which he doubted Mommy would ever give him a chance to escape again after this...

As his hand clasped the interior of the exit, he struggled to pull himself up, sweat dripping from his body now with the effort. He could only pray those droplets didn't touch Mommy, or she would snatch him away from his escape when it was so close...

Now, though, he felt cool air, and the warmth of the nest slowly pushing past him, creating a tiny air current. As he clung to the branches, he felt the feathers moving now... like dozens, no hundreds... thousands of tiny feathery fingers all over him.

Weeping, he tried to move, but felt his grip almost give way. Every sensitive part of his body was now under total assault from all sides as the tight tunnel exit's feathers pressed in around him. It wasn't fair! He was so close!

His cock sang with pure exasperation at the unsatisfying ticklish torment it was receiving, and every other ticklish little part of his body sympathised with it. His ears, his nose, his lips, his chin, his neck... down his chest, his nipples, his armpits, his sides... his stomach, his waist, his cock and his hips, his thighs and the backs of his knees and his utterly helplessly ticklish feet. Every inch of him was now subjected to the tiny minute movements of her feathers as the air flowed around him.

Helplessly, he giggled, but no longer cared. At this point he just wanted it to end, freedom or doom, anything but one second more of this torment. One finger slipped, then another. His body screamed. It tickled. A thousand spots were demanding he pull his hand away and protect them, if even for just a moment, from the ticklish assault. It prickled. It itched. It tickled, god did it tickle. He wanted to scratch every inch of himself as dozens of beads of sweat trickled down his body, either swept away by a tickly feather or dripping down his beet-red body.

His feet came loose, and his heart missed a beat, but his fingers clung on. He now hung, legs squirming in the air, hanging on to the opening of the nest.

So close... so close. His hand grasped flat ground, followed by the other. With just one last effort, he knew he could pull himself out of the ticklish tunnel, and freedom would be his.

He breathed, and tensed, ready to pull.

Only then did a thick pair of lips latched onto his cock, and such him inside her mouth. Mommy's tongue was wild, squirming and writhing all over his dick, trapped between her wet, sausage-thick lips.

"Noooo!" he cried, trying to pull harder, but found his last strength waning as if she were sucking it out through his cock directly.

The lascivious wet noises of her mouth on his cock, hidden below the tunnel around him, were an assault upon his delicate mind almost as ruthless as the physical assault of her mouth on his cock. Both had one solitary goal, and his defences crumbled.

Rick had been so close to escape... but now he was far closer to a different kind of release. His hips thrust wildly in the air, humping into his Mommy's wet mouth, as he felt another finger come loose.

She fluttered her tongue all over his head, while encouraging his thrusting motions by slamming her thick wet lips down to the base of his cock and sucking mightily to ensure that when he pulled his hips back her mouth clung to his cock as tightly as possible.

Shaking, shivering, he could hold on no longer, in both senses. His hands came free, and his Mommy's arms enveloped him... down, down she sucked him, down into the nest.

Before, with a sickeningly wet plop, her mouth slurped free of his cock and left him teetering on the absolute knife's edge of orgasm.

*****

Rick lay, shivering and weeping, as her piercing blue eyes poured into his. She laid him down on his back across her massively thick thigh, with his head facing her feet. His wrists had been roughly bound to the wall of the nest now, and he tugged at them mightily, desperate to stroke himself and bring himself over the edge, to attain the orgasm he so desperately wanted. It just wasn't fair! He had been so close! Not only had his bid for freedom been robbed from him, but even his orgasm.

She clamped her other thigh atop his body, careful to ensure his cock could gain no friction from rubbing against it, leaving it throbbing needily in the air.

Her eyes never left his, though, staring at him over the thick mass of her thighs.

He whimpered. Those eyes were cold.

Inhuman.

"My baby boy... did you have a nice dream?" she asked, in an even tone.

He merely shivered, afraid to say or do anything. Even his raging desire to cum was hilted by that icy stare. Rick had seen this cool side of her before but... never like this.

"Did you have trouble sleeping? You could have just asked Mommy to help you sleep... Mommy was watching the whole time. Mommy is always watching."

Every part of his body, save his cock, wilted at those words. She had seen the whole thing...