Disjointed and unable to concentrate, your flailing is nowhere near as coordinated as you'd like, but the sudden resistance is enough to catch the two cultists off guard.
You brace your boot up against the wall of the narrow passage and push hard, sending the three of you crashing into the opposite side. Your body slams into one of the cloaked women, causing her to bang against the stones. Her grip on you loosens and she drops to the ground, unmoving.
With only one unable to lift you up, your feel your feet touch the ground once more. Her whispering has faltered, surprised by the sudden turn of events, and you take advantage of the situation as your mind finally clears.
You grab on to her sleeve and twist hard, flinging her down towards the ground. She hits the smooth, stone floor and rolls a few times before ending up face-down away from you.
With the angle you're standing, you can see a little bit up her cloak. Bare, pale, shapely legs extend all the way down to a pair of pinkish feet. An idea suddenly comes to mind. Albeit a strange one, in a way their odd whispering sealed their fate for them.
The cultist starts to get up, but in a flash you rush over and settle yourself right on the back of her calves, pinning her legs down against the ground. You hear a soft gasp escape her lips, followed by a familiar noise... the same whispering from before.
"Oh no you don't," you mutter, feeling the giggles bubbling up in your throat once more. Leaning over, you wiggle your fingertips down the full length of her soles. Almost immediately, the whispering ceases. You glance back at her and notice that her hands are clenched into fists on the ground, obviously trying to resist the sensations.
Looking back down, you lightly scratch a single nail along her arch. Her skin is remarkably smooth and soft, like a newborn child's. All their levitating must have softened their skin as there wasn't a single rough spot anywhere.
As your nail slides down to her heel, you quickly change tactics and scamper all ten fingers up to her toes.
She squeals before collapsing into a fit of laughter, one hand slapping the floor repeatedly. Her voice is like silk to your ears. Her short, pudgy toes curl to try and block your fingers, but the floodgates for her laughter are already open.
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