I do not own Zelda. Nintendo owns it.
It was a starless night. The winds are blowing softly as the moon shone on the land. It was an omen, but of what was unknown.
Ilia tried once again to move her hands, to twist them free of the rope looped around her wrists, and failed. As old and worn as they were, the ropes never failed, never lost their unnatural strength no matter what. Wrapped around her naked body, they were completely sturdy.
"You always look so pretty all tied up like that, Ilia." The voice of the dark sorceress was its normal sultry and seductive tone, but there was a deeper and more sinister growling of a voice beneath it, like an animal lurking in the darkness. Veran was in a bad mood, and Ilia already knew why.
She had went acting around like her stupid self, demanding that Veran release her "Linky-Winky" and going around destroying her prized flowers. She then proceeded to call her an old, ugly crone that deserved to die lonely.
At an unspoken command, the ropes tightened once again. Ilia bit her tongue as her body was slowly crushed within the inescapable embrace, her limbs soon going numb from the unforgiving tightness. They forced her body into whatever posture Veran wished, as always, forcing her to arch her back and thrust her juvenile bosom to the cold stone ceiling of the dungeon. Her limbs were dragged taught around her, spreading her into a most undignified star shape, and then Ilia had to bite the end of her tongue off to keep from screaming as her joints were forced backwards, grinding audibly.
"Oh, what, bloody already dear?" Veran sounded pleased with herself. She laughed at the idiot girl, who was crying silently in pain. "If you can't even hold your tongue for this, I doubt you're going to like where we're going next."
Again the ropes tightened, again, Ilia's teeth sank into her tongue. Her body could move only so far as the blue skinned witch allowed, not an inch of give in the ropes strangling her entire being, squeezing herself into a suffocating packet of tortured flesh. She couldn't scream. She couldn't give the sadistic crone the excuse she was waiting for. As the rope around her neck squeezed the breath from her, Ilia feared, just for a second, that she might actually die...
"Stop! Please, no more…"
Ilia's bindings disappeared into the ether from whence they had been summoned. Her exquisite figure fell to the cold stone floor with a hefty thud, coughing and gasping for breath she knew, at least the rational part of her knew, she didn't need.
Falling to her hands and knees before the sorceress, Ilia's body trembled as the angry red marks left by her previous bondage quickly faded into invisibility on her milky skin.
Then something hot and slippery was very suddenly upon the poor girl, sneaking across her hands and along each of her forearms. Hot, wet, spongy flesh grasped her in an inescapable grip, and her arms were no longer supporting her weight, but above her, twisted painfully behind her back and hoisted into the air.
She scrambled to stand as the tentacles, or whatever they were, lifted her upper body into the air, not stopping until she was balanced on her toes, bent uncomfortably in half. The sensation was utterly disgusting, thick globs of hot glue-like sludge exuded from the fleshy appendages wound unfailingly around her forearms, trickling slowly along her arms and dripping onto her nude back.
"You're all wet, my lovely," the sorceress sang in her sadistic mirth, and slowly she surrounded her prey like a hungry beast.
Ilia tried for a moment to close her legs. The cold air wafting between them, playing over the utterly nude mound of her soaking wet womanhood, was almost as bad as the tongues on her arms. But of course, as soon as her feet moved but an inch, she was struck about the rear end by another of those disgusting slimy limbs.
With the teenage farm hand's dulcet wailing reverberating in her ears, Veran enjoyed the sight of Ilia's petite buttocks and her perfectly slender thighs trembling from the unexpected strike of that lone tentacle. Putting the young brat in her place had never failed to be most enjoyable.
"Now, child. Are you going to apologize for what you did?" Veran smiled a sadistic smile. "Or are you going to suffer for your idiocy?"
Ilia failed to answer. She knew what she had done, and now she knew just how badly it had offended that blue-skinned witch, and she knew full well that nothing could save her from her wrath. She tried to shift her feet just a little closer together, to block out that annoying draft between her thighs, and was caught for a second time by the vicious lash of a tendril across her backside.
The tendril struck Ilia's unprotected bottom once again, and again, bringing a desperate sob from the village maiden's lips each time.
"You make me sick. You come over here, claiming that I had stolen that infernal green-hatted boyfriend of yours, which I had NOT. For that, you WILL pay." Veran glared darkly at Ilia.
A cold sweat covered Ilia's pale skin from the top of her head to the ends of her toes, even dripping slowly from the peak of her breasts as they hung beneath her. The hot sludge continued to drip down her arms and splash across her naked, painfully twisted shoulders.
"Do you understand now that the situation that you are in, child?"
"No! Let me go!" Ilia immediately regretted what she said.
"SILENCE!"
Ilia screamed as a whip of wet flesh hotter than the sun raced across her skin, crossing her diagonally from the crest of her right hip up towards her left breast. Her flesh blistered and seared and split in an instant from the unnatural nature of that unforgiving lash, showering her nakedness in a fine burst of red.
Her muscles, unreal as they were, still threw her forward in her bonds with a frightening power, but the sticky bonds on her arms remained unfaltering. In the end, she could only squirm and yell and make her boobs bounce around a bit, which Veran seemed to be appreciating if nothing else.
The lash came again, bursting Ilia's pure, creamy flesh almost without effort, leaving the village maiden with a weeping, bloodied cross mark scored upon the skin of her back. For many minutes, she shook herself violently in her bonds, howling at the dark room in unspeakable agony.
"You can stay there, for all I care. Have fun playing with your new friends." Veran spat at her. "I hope you suffer until your body breaks and your soul descends to Hell."
She left, leaving Ilia to her doom.
The squirming, writhing, unstoppable swarm of tentacles drove themselves with feverish enthusiasm into the space between Ilia's thighs. They attacked her in her most vulnerable area, hot, humid, slimy flesh lashing the so very sensitive folds of her soaking womanhood without mercy, and Ilia was convulsing in an orgasm so powerful, that it blinded her for a moment.
Ilia's nubile body thrashed uncontrollably in its bonds as a thousand tentacle-like tongues set to work on her exposed skin, her lurid cries for mercy quickly degenerating into complete incoherence.
As if sensing her mood, one of the foul slimy things decided to wind itself in a messy ring around the base of her right breast and slowly closed the loop. Another quickly followed suit, and soon Ilia's breasts felt like they might burst at any moment, straining and bulging obscenely from her body and jiggling wildly as the tentacles had their way with her.
Every inch of her screamed in torment and pain. Her skin felt afire under the smothering touch of a score of tentacles, sending waves of torturous agony pulsating through her body. The ripe and blood-swollen folds of her still drenched pussy were wickedly split, splayed apart by the probing tips of a dozen tongues, folded wide to reveal the tender pinkness within. Ilia felt herself gape open, her inner passage gasping like a stranded fish, and promptly stuffed to capacity with the searing flesh of more tentacles than she could count. It felt as if they were already tearing her body to pieces, and boiling her skin from her bones with their touch. Nothing had ever hurt so much in all her life.
Then they found her other entrance, and Ilia shrieked herself raw when a ravenous pack of the horrid things pushed themselves into her unprotected back door, crowding into her guts like hungry scavengers. Too much flesh inside her, too deep, too fast.
Her stomach felt as though it would burst from the strain. She was being utterly, thoroughly fucked by more appendages than she cared to number, had she any sense left in her head to do so. Her young, teenage body bounced and rocked in her bonds as the things had their way with it. As they stroked every bit of her naked flesh, and lashed her quivering body from head to toe leaving angry red stains on her perfect skin, and fought over each other to take turns in each of her holes even as they grew slack around the ever increasing masses of invading tongue flesh. Ilia felt them squirming around inside, in places nothing had ever touched, and felt sick in a way that was far beyond physical.
At first, she tried to withstand, to endure, and to outlast the vile torment of her flesh. She counted every single tentacle that entered her body, even as their numbers continued to swell exponentially. She counted the mind-shattering, repulsive orgasms that had been battered into her, screaming till her voice strained and she vomited air, as she had already vomited out her lunch and some blood as well. She counted the minutes, and then the hours. But, in time, she lost count. And then she stopped counting at all.
After a time that could have been days, or years, or forever, Ilia let go of herself completely. She could no longer think nor talk sensibly. They never stopped, never paused, never even slowed down, not for a second. She had been trapped in this casing of slime-covered flesh for nearly an eternity, raped without end in every way she could have ever imagined, violated in an unspeakable manner. The tentacles mapped every single inch of her, inside and out, in their quest to reach her ultimate depths. They ripped, tore, burst, breached every organ in her body. She was nearly dead, her insides scrambled to a fine paste, her belly split open, and her eyes hanging out from her sockets.
Her childish body trembled as she was impaled end to end, the hot meat of an impossible tongue passing from anus to mouth, its end flailing and thrashing madly and slapping her face as it raped her. The tentacles broke her over and over, body and mind, penetrating the deepest corners of her womb and forcing her ovaries from her ripped belly as they were burst from within. They reached into her head and minced her brain. They found countless new and interesting ways of destroying her perky, well-rounded breasts, from popping the ripe swells of flesh through sheer pressure, to simply ripping them from her body, or lashing them till they burst. They turned her inside-out and fucked everything they could find.
Finally, the tentacles ripped her apart, piece by piece and discarded them out of the window. Only Ilia's head remained, her eyes gone, her hair covered in ooze, and her mouth was dripping out blood.
Veran walked in and grabbed the head. "Well, at least I have something to relieve myself with whenever someone's using my bathroom." She laughed evilly as she left the room.
Tbc.