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Moonchild's Ebony Tower	By : passiveaggressor Category: M through R > Neverending Story Views: 6068 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverending Story or its characters and I make no money from the writing of this story.

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Light suddenly returned to her vision as she felt herself pass out from the pain, the pain itself fading, as she found herself back on the mostly sealed floor, except another door was opening. She ran towards the first door as she heard screaming behind it, and the door was already being sealed, even more secure than the original locking.
Moonchild looked through the door as the chains and padlocks fastened over it, her face going pale as she looked at a familiar figure, blindfolded and gagged, being paddled and spanked, barely able to see as the figure with the paddle grasped her clothing before the small window was locked shut, and she couldn’t possibly get...
She tried not to think of the fact she’d just seen the beginning of her own paddling, and was thinking of going back into the room, and went towards the second door, shuddering as it opened easily. Her eyes flickered around, looking for any sign of movement as she entered, all too reminded of her current state of nakedness. Her world suddenly tilted and she found herself on the ground, a knee planted in her back and a pair of hands pulling her arms behind her.
“Hey! Let me go!” Moonchild begged, feeling incredibly vulnerable, thankful only that the bindings that secured her wrists such a short time ago were gone for the short term. A thought soon quashed as she felt the touch of rope against her wrists, the hands deftly crossing her wrists and tying then tightly. The figure yanked on her hair and tied a cloth around her eyes, blindfolding her before using a second length of rope to tie her legs, crossing her ankles before tying them securely.
“Stop, please!” She begged, attempting to pull her ankles and wrists free, but the figure had her pinned securely, “Why do you keep doing this to me?” Her questions were answered when a rope was draped around her neck, the figure knotting it below her collarbone.
“No... Please... Don’t kill me...” She begged, “Why do you not speak to me?!?” The figure remained silent, instead drawing the rope down her front and between her legs before bringing it up her back and drawing it through the back of the neck loop. She yelped as the rope went tight, rubbing against her bare crotch, and she began to squirm more and more as her shifting only served to worsen the effect.
The ends of the rope were then crossed and brought around before being slid through the rope running down her front. The ends were then moved to the back and passed through the back rope and then around to the front, the ropes being used to create a diamond pattern that framed her breasts and caused the ropes at her crotch to dig harder into her mound and ass crack. She half-screamed, half-moaned, smelling a odd flowery scent in the air as some kind of lubricant started to moisten the rope.
“What... What’s happening to me?” She wondered aloud, her voice ragged, “Why is my body reacting this way?” She felt a touch on her thigh and gasped as a finger slowly trailed up her leg. The finger went higher, tracing the crotch rope before stopping where the two ropes were rubbing her clit. The hand parted the ropes and teased her clit from between them, giving it a gentle flick, revealing how sensitive the rope had made it.
The reaction felt like a jolt or shock, as she moaned loudly, only half hearing the sound, her sight sparkling and she felt her next response vanish from her lips, her body barely answering to her touch. “Please...” She began, not sure what she wanted, the request dying as the finger traced around her clit before giving the engorged nub a gentle pinch...

She woke up from the sudden blackout ‘dressed’ in a odd rope harness, her mind jumbled and fragmented, not moving before the door was already locked, her fingers somehow too uncoordinated to remove the odd attire.
“What... happened to me?” She wondered, noticing the rope was noticeably dark where it dug into her crotch, the dampness having a odd, but nice, smell to it when she brushed her hand over it. Her hands roamed over the rope harness, trying to untie it but her finger’s couldn’t reach the knots. After a few minutes she gave up and headed for the third door with trepidation, and the hope that she wouldn’t end up waking up after passing out again.
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Moonchild's Ebony Tower