Wandering the tunnels

Compassless, Liz explored the unknown tunnels. They were as a maze really, with many a path stopped short by a deadend or locked door that required a doubling back. Still she pressed on and felt she was making good distance through the dirt labyrinth, even without an end goal in mind. Her progress, however, was immediately halted by the unforgettable sound of the Mistress's boots tapped above her. Liz froze for a split second of panic. In the next instant, she scrambled into a small alcove, quiet like a mouse. The footsteps sounded to be from the floor above and getting closer.

Quick as she was, Liz hadn't properly checked her slapdash seat. For a result, her backside rested on many a strange trinket. One item was all but knocking on her rear entrance. The discomfort, Liz ignored, focused on the ominous footsteps. She turned her head to follow the dangerous clack click, not caring that the action shifted her rosebud and **** the foreign object in. When the steps stopped immediately above Liz, she wrapped her leather sealed hands around her mouth to silence her heavy breaths.

The unknown thing was smooth and wet, thus it easily worked its way through Liz's Strait of Gibraltar, while the pirate worried about the unseen deviless. After several tense moments, The Mistress walked on, and after a few more (that were significantly less tense) Liz started again, caring only about the dangerous woman above her and headless to the inserted object.

A reasonable jaunt and a few bends latter our scantily clad heroine's path came to a fork. A side passage offered more dark tunnel, but ahead of her, Liz saw shallow stairs that led to blinding sunlight beyond which the thick murmur of a crowd could be heard. 'Twas a hearty boon as a mingling mass provided opportunities for flight in excess.

Yet she hesitated, realizing the true ridiculousness of her outfit. Looking done at the lewd parody of an lunatic's garb, the captain knew she did not want to be seen in such a thing. Liz wasn't afraid of showing off a little skin especially in a way that turned heads, but appearing before strangers in such a thing would be downright degrading. It was little more than sleeves. Dear God, they could think she chose to wear this. Her cheeks reddened at the thought of her most intimate parts on display in a crowded cosway, the scarcest thong of leather the only obscuration of her dainty drip-dale. She would find it difficult to not be found, by both The Misstress and the wayward eyes of passersby.

Feeling a tid embarrassed of her prudery, the exposed pirate padded a few steps along the path that led to further darkness, and promptly stopped. She heard giggling. Could this dark tunnels be worse? She hadn't seen the full potential of this hell. The could be perverted devils or devilesses groping deep in the darkness, ready to snatch or torment her.