She isn't alone

Sitting in her darkness, Liz began to hear odd noises that made a chill run down her spine. Said chill proved well founded when something slithered onto her knee resting against the side of the crate. It was long as a finger and felt slimy. A part of her wanted to scream, yet determined to not be a helpless damsel, Liz clenched her teeth against the urge. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and she saw that the intruder looked a bit like a pink slug. It had a sucker at its front that it used to stretched forward and grab her skin. It then scrunched the rest of its oily body together. In this manner, she felt it slide over her knee. Next the slug thing slid down her inner thigh, controlling its decent by occasionally sucking her skin. To an extent, Liz's fear was replaced by curiosity, Its 'kisses' and sliding actually felt nice. Howbeit, 'twas ghoulish for this tiny thing to creep over her skin, leaving its wet trail.

Her crate was jostled and a few beams of light entered through slits and illuminated the creature, as it completed its journey down Liz's thigh. Seeing it better she thought it almost looked quite like a tongue. Then it reached her vaginal mound and it felt very much like a tongue. It redirected itself to slide over her outer lips, planting a few ticklish kisses as it fell. The pulsing muscles felt amazing as it slipped over her clit, all the more as some additional tenderness seemed to be witching that particular intersection of delight.

When it reached the floor of Liz's wooden prison the creature stood up. Likely anchoring itself with its suction mouth. It tenderly began brushing the tip of its tail over Liz's brine pocket, sending splashes of pleasure through her body. Frustrated Liz shouted "Bugger off, you blighter" and slid her crotch forward. The clever little creature wasn't knocked back like she hoped. Instead, it deftly slipped its body between her lips, so that Liz's act of defiance pushed her clit against its soft tongue like body. The tormented pirate gasped appropriately.

Liz was so distracted by the creature she didn't notice the second one until it crawled off her jacket and onto her breast. It wandered around heading in the general direction of her nipple but pretending to be lost, insisting on doing a full circle before eventually reaching the perked teat Liz was not fool by these antics; this thing was intent on teasing her.

Simultaneously the first tormentor maintained it's own form of cruel tenderness. Twitching it's way deeper into Liz's warm and wet like a worm into Gaia. A moan escaped her mouth afore she could suppress it. Despite her disgust with these deviant creatures, Liz was becoming aroused. The clever beast secured itself in her tender orifice; then with a twisting of its muscles and tiny ticklish kisses it slowly brought its mouth up her inner thigh. It reoriented itself so its mouth was again above its quim-invading body. There, it continued its suckling **** on her tender folds, and clit. These movements shifted about something small and firm that now seemed to adorn Liz's most delicate body part, providing pleasure Liz was not prepared for.

Having finally found her left nipple the second tongue-devil was doing almost the opposite sucking on her nipple and using it as a base to "lick" the surrounding breast and areola. Liz bucked and struggled; her hair flung wildly as she accused the vile creatures of descending from disease ridden whores. eventually closing her eyes with frustration.

The ugsome caitiffs continued to tantalize her, despite her efforts. The wooden box rattled along in a widening path that she couldn't see. Sometimes light shone between the slats and illuminated the slugs, for what little good it did. The agitated pirate could always feel them; her cunt's eagerness made wet her thighs and formed a puddle. Sweat trickled down her back as she became more passionate. Seeing the futility, Liz gave up suppressing the sounds of her **** pleasure.

Moaning herself hoarse, the pirate was embarrassed through and through when someone suddenly popped the top off her crate, filling it with blinding sunlight. "My, my, she does keep things interesting" said a sophisticated female as Liz's eyes adjusted to the daylight. "Alright thee have had thine fun gentlemen, run along now." The tongue-slug clinging to her nipple let go and tumbled down her chest; the other shot out of her pussy. Both disappeared through slits in the crate.

"What?" stammered Liz, thankful to breathe without the throes of pleasure conducting upon her lungs, "what are those?"

"Liches," explained the posh woman, "they were lecherous humans doomed to now live as tongues, a fate, it would seem, they hardly mind. Thou must watch for them. They have adapted admirably to their new life and are have known to lick themselves to just about any place they desire."

Liz was still a little dazed, but this mysterious woman helped her up. Compared to the dark crate, the daylight bordered painful. While blinking adjustment into her eyes, she appraised her liberator.

This woman wore an expensive dress of golds and greens. It was of a low, strapless cut, showing the entire top half of her pale breast, so much that it came titillatingly close to the woman's nipple. The ruffled skirt was asymmetric, and thusly covered her left leg to the ankle yet the top of her right lace stocking and its garter strap were displayed.

The fine figure beneath this provocative dress was delicate though with a slender strength, like a rose ready to skewer any opponent. Her soft, pale skin showed no signs of being in the sun despite its brightness in this place. Rudy curls, which would make autumn maples wish they could blush, were stacked into a tower atop her head. Some of these vibrant strands had been deliberately spilled down to frame her elegant face with helices of fire. The apple-tone upon her checks matched these ringlets of hair and accented her already finely sculpted check bones. She regally extended a thin hand to Liz and stated "how does thou do, Miss Finley. I am The Governess." Still in her 'jacket', Liz didn't even bother trying to shake. "Goodness," commented The Governess, her voice carrying less alarm than a trickling fountain, "I supposed it is high time I free thine arms." She stepped behind Liz and began unfastening buckles. "Indeed providing a change of attire would be the minimum of politeness," The Governess added while drafting into her grasp Liz's hand which though still leather encased was now relatively free.