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"Oh, don't worry about being stuck as you are, Salome," The sultry voice of the succubus speaks sweet seduction into the chaos-born's ear. "I know all about your previous matches, and I thought that maybe I should get a head start in our little competition. Oh, don't you worry, I've got you bound nice and tight. And the blindfold? Well, that should only add to the experience, don't you think?

Heckabun's breath disappears from Salome's neck, and she continues, a rough-textured thing sliding over the naked and scarred skin of the crusader. "All of it is tournament regulation, of course. I've checked with Hanioc if I could get a jump on you... it's not really how I usually do business, but this is a Tournament of Pleasure, not Business, isn't it? And I've taken the liberty of collecting all the data I could on you."

That rough object slides down along Salome's rough skin, pressing up against her sex, sliding up and down along it. The Chaos-born tries to break free, but her arms are tied over her head, and her legs are spread wide, straining her thighs.

"You may feel some discomfort," the succubus continues, "but that's the secret, isn't it?" Those last words come back to Salome's ear with a faint whisper. "You enjoy pain, don't you?"

The rough object disappears, giving Salome's sex an emptiness, a yearning she never thought she would have.

This yearning wouldn't last long, though. With a "smack," the rough object returns, but this time with a stinging pain that rushes through her pussy, burning hot and dulling to a strange but not unpleasant warmth.

"What a cute little sound you make. You know, there's just something about a job well done with a satisfied customer." As she speaks, she traces her finger, covered in a glove, across Salome's cheek, tracing over one of the scars along the Chaos-born's face. "When did you first discover you secretly enjoyed the pain, Salome? Was it on one of those lonely nights when you attempted to seek penance through the whipping of sins, but instead, you only grew more sinful?"

The crop smacks between Salome's shoulder blades, which makes the knight arch her back. The succubus follows this up by sliding the rough crop down along her spine and then gently back up. "You've got a few marks here that seem self-inflicted. No doubt you tried a few times to absolve yourself of your shameful desires, only for them to return when it was just yourself alone in your halls of penance."

Another smack is followed by a groan from the bound knight, whose legs begin to quiver, her head hanging low, panting and gasping but not answering.

The crop pushes up against Salome's chin, and the bound contender can feel the leporine succubus's eye burrow into her soul, even though she cannot see. "So, you became a crusader and a demon slayer, knowing that demons tend to play rough."

A spank, right on her ass, just above her thigh, helps to stand Salome back up, as much as her spread legs would allow. Her whines fill the room but do not echo. They're someplace small, and there's no roar of a crowd. Are they alone? Is this part of the Tournament?

Her other cheek gets the same treatment as the first, and her cry ends in a moan.

"It's my job to know everything about a person so that I can provide them the most pleasurable experience I can," Heckabun says, whiskers twitching against Salome's cheek. Her arm reaches from behind and between her legs, gloved fingers playing at her lips. "And this is but a taste of what you can expect from me." She rolls her fingers with inhuman dexterity, spreading the lips apart to let the cold airbrush up against the opening.

"Your true passion isn't in simple fetishism; no, you are a warrior, through and through, and I have met many like you in my business. There are others, colleagues of mine, who would take you on in a full-on battle, waiting until the two of you are broken and bloodied. I know that if you were to free yourself from those bonds that you would no doubt seek to leave me bruised and bloodied, just to coax me into using my own power over you?"

Something warm, yet limp, falls upon Salome's shoulder. Then, a moment later, a point presses on her back, followed by another, and another, until five sharp points press against her flesh, poking and burning, and then scratching, slowly, down along her skin, letting the warmth of blood rush to ruptured vessels, causing bruising and then, finally, a tiny cut near her side.

She gasps, nodding, her panting only increasing. She writhes around, letting out frustrated growls.

The fingers between her legs disappear, and the soft padding of paws away from her makes Salome howl and whimper.

"Look at you, hot from just the simplest touches. You've made it so far in this Tournament without a real fight, but you and I both know that's what you crave an-"

With a final snarl, Salome throws all her strength against her bonds. With a rip and crumble, a great weight falls, freeing her arms. The knight rips the bandage from her face, her eyes glowing in a desire that she has never shown before, her mouth turned into a wicked grin.

"Oh, oh dear, you're free. Well, uh... goodbye, then. Congrats on winning!" With that, she disappears in a puff.

Salome blinks, her shoulders slumping, and she pouts. "W... what? But that was really fun." She says this, rubbing her back, remembering the pain--remembering the delight.