Hello all. Here's another one from bygone newsgroup days, with some few revisions. Hopw you enjoy!
Sweet Revenge # 3
THE LAST LONG LAUGH
Something was tugging at her wrists and ankles.
Bonnie's eyes popped open just as the mechanism of the rack gave a final squeak and fell silent. She tried to sit up and couldn't. Her naked (but WHY was she naked?) body was totally immobilized, stretched almost but not quite to the point of pain.
But what was going on? Where WAS she? Bonnie's mind was a blur. She remembered. . .she remembered. . .she COULDN’T remember anything except. . .
Nothing. And it was hard to think, hard to concentrate, when you were lying naked on some kind of torture device, with your wrists tied together and your arms above your head and your legs spread and your ankles bound to the ends of an iron bar.
The tarry odor of the rope and the sharp scent of her own cold sweat tickled Bonnie's nostrils. With some difficulty, she raised her head a little and took a look around.
The rack appeared to be placed in the middle of a large, bare room. The walls were built of rough, uneven gray stone blocks. Though she couldn't see the floor, Bonnie had the feeling that they were constructed of the same material. Oddly, however (for the room was otherwise well-lit), it was impossible to see the ceiling. There was nothing up there but a kind of haze.
"Hello?" Bonnie called in a small, fearful voice. "Is anyone here? Where am I?"
"Hello, Bonnie. Nice of you to drop by."
Bonnie's head twisted in a futile effort to see who had spoken. The voice—a throaty female voice with a mocking edge—had come from somewhere behind her. But she couldn't SEE—she couldn't see a THING—!
"Be patient, darling." The unseen woman chuckled in a way that made Bonnie's stomach flutter. "We'll have plenty of time to get to know one another, you and I."
"Who ARE you?" Bonnie cried. "And where ARE we?"
"My name doesn’t matter," the woman answered. "Why don't you just call me—Dominique?"
That stopped the breath in Bonnie's throat. Dominique was HER name—her “weekend” name, as she'd always thought of it. Mistress Dominique, the High Priestess of Hilarity, who just LOVED to tie up pretty girls and tickle them silly.
So this was some kind of payback! It had to be! Bonnie smiled. Whoever had gone to all this trouble was in for a big surprise. Because Bonnie, though she loved to tickle, wasn't ticklish herself. Not even a little. Not at all.
"Dominique" stepped to the foot of the rack and Bonnie finally got a look at her. She was a tall, slender, striking blonde with icy blue eyes and lush red lips. She was wearing a simple black form-fitting jumpsuit, presumably with boots—Bonnie thought she had heard the heels tap across the stone floor. It was a familiar costume, not too different from what Bonnie herself was accustomed to wear for a weekend frolic.
"All right," Bonnie said, smiling up at the woman. "Let's get this over with. Do your worst."
Dominique smiled. "I told you, darling, there's no hurry. For the moment I just want to feast my eyes on you. I've always been partial to dark-haired girls—especially when they're so. . .voluptuous."
Bonnie blushed and she squirmed a little. Her large, firm breasts jiggled.
"Time for your punishment to commence, dear." With a sly smile, Dominique took Bonnie's right big toe between her thumb and forefinger. She bent back the toe and, with her free hand, dragged a long, sharp nail down the center of Bonnie's bare foot.
"EEEEEE!!!" Bonnie squealed in surprise. "That TICKLES!”
"Really?" Dominique grinned. "And how about THIS??
Her fingers danced over the heel of Bonnie’s foot. "AAAAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!" Bonnie yelped. "HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!”
Something was wrong! Something was VERY wrong, Bonnie realized as Dominique's nails moved to the tender arch of the foot. "EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!" she squealed. "EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
It TICKLED! What Dominique was doing SHOULDN’T have been tickling her silly—but it WAS—!
She tried to suppress her laughter, tried to ignore the effect of Dominique's ministrations, but it was no good. "EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!" she screamed as intense ticklish sensations shot up her quivering leg. "OH PLEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEESE!!! DON'T TICK-HICK-EEEEEE-HICK-HEE-HEE-HEE-HICK-HICKLE MEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!"
"But you're NOT ticklish, darling, isn't that so?" Dominique drawled, drawing a sharp fingernail along the side of the foot.
"OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!" Bonnie howled. "GAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-GAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!"
Dominique was using both hands now, stroking delicately with her long fingernails, and Bonnie was literally SCREAMING with laughter. Tears streamed from her eyes; spittle flew from her wide-open mouth. In some remote corner of her mind, Bonnie was certain that another SECOND of this hilarious anguish would drive her mad—or fucking KILL her! But the tickling went on and on—and Bonnie laughed and LAUGHED—and the exquisite, unbearable sensation grew not less but MORE intense as Dominique stroked, and stroked, and STROKED—!
At some point in the proceedings, her tormentress switched to the opposite foot—not that it mattered to Bonnie. She was too busy trying to draw breath between long, frantic, high-pitched shrieks of hysterical laughter to note such a minor detail. And when Dominique finally relented, Bonnie went right on laughing. It took her many minutes to regain some semblance of control over her tickle-tormented body -- and then she began begging for mercy.
"Please oh PLEASE don't tickle me any more!" she wheezed. "I can't STAND it—!"
"But Bonnie, darling, that was just a TASTE—just the merest SAMPLE—of the torments that lie in store for you." Dominique's lips curved up in an evil grin and she laid a hand on her victim's trembling thigh. "So I'm afraid that you'll simply HAVE to stand it."
"You can't!" Bonnie wailed. "You'll KILL me!"
"Not to worry, darling," Dominique chuckled. "You see, Bonnie, you're ALREADY dead!"
”Oomygod NO!” Bonnie wailed.
"It's a bit late to be invoking His name, I'm afraid." A glint of red appeared in Dominique's eyes. "You belong to US now—specifically to ME.”
"This can't be HAPPENING!” Bonnie wailed.
Dominique laughed then. It was a terrible, booming laugh that seemed to strike Bonnie with the force of a physical blow. She screamed as the realization hit her—she was damned, damned, damned to Hell for eternity—!
"That's right," Dominique said. "You're DAMNED, darling. Damned to an eternity of TICKLING!"
The rack to which Bonnie was bound twisted like a live thing. In an instant, she found herself upright, arms high above her head, legs spread. The rack had turned itself into an open wooden frame. Her ankles were secured by ropes to the bottom corners of the frame; her wrists were tied together and secured to an iron hook. The frame creaked, extending itself slightly to stretch Bonnie's body.
"In Hell," explained Dominique, "things are arranged—and rearranged—to suit the needs of the moment." She stepped forward and patted her victim's cheek. "I think you're going to find this next procedure rather. . .absorbing."
She stepped back and snapped her fingers. Instantly, a pink, fleshy tentacle, about the thickness of a female forearm, sprang up from the floor in front of Bonnie like some demented plant. It had a blunt end which, as she watched disbelievingly, divided itself into three slender tendrils with feathery tips. They waved back and forth in front of her face. Then the center tendril darted forward. Bonnie felt it brush her belly just below the navel. She wiggled and her breasts swayed. That seemed to attract the attention of the other two tendrils, which lengthened themselves and bent to lightly touch her rigid nipples.
A moment later, Bonnie felt something touch the small of her back. She moaned. Something touched her sides, just below the armpits. She squirmed. Though she couldn't see it, Bonnie knew that another tentacle had grown out of the floor behind her.
"Please—wait—DON’T!" she begged. "I'm in the wrong PLACE! It’s a MISTAKE! I didn't do anything BAD!”
Dominique put on an expression of regret and shook her head. "Sorry, darling, but The Authority, as we call Him down here, isn't exactly what you'd call broad-minded or politically correct. He has this rule against 'unnatural love.' as it's called in The Book of Sin. Just the fact that you liked girls would have been enough to land you here."
Bonnie squirmed a little and the tendrils responded with a series of light, rapid strokes. She yelped.
"Better not move, dear." Dominique's lips twisted up in an evil, gloating grin. "If you hold perfectly still while we're chatting, they won't tickle you."
Bonnie made her muscles freeze.
"That's better," her tormentress said. "Now, as I was saying, if you'd come to us with nothing on your soul but the sin of unnatural love, we'd simply have tossed you into the Rain of Fire. That's the final destination for run-of-the-mill damnees, of whom we get a huge number." Dominique chuckled. "We get far too many, in fact, to provide them all with the kind of personalized service YOU’RE receiving."
"But what did I DO?!” Bonnie moaned.
"You TICKLED, darling." Dominique held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. "In itself that's not a sin—but surely you haven't forgotten about poor Gloria? I'm afraid you got just a bit carried away with THAT young lady. Didn't she end up in a mental hospital—tickled silly, as it were?"
"I didn't MEAN to!" Bonnie protested. "It was an ACCIDENT!"
"Yes, well, that accident, as you call it, placed you in my hands for individualized attention." Dominique laughed. "And the irony is that poor Gloria sent you here. She escaped from the loony bin, tracked you down, and shot you. Then, alas, she shot herself—for which sin of suicide she has, of course, taken up permanent residence in the Rain of Fire. So you see, Bonnie, you've actually quite a LOT to answer for!"
"I'm sorry!" Bonnie insisted. "Sorry! SORRY!"
"Not as sorry as you're ABOUT to be," Dominique added. She snapped her fingers again.
'HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!" Bonnie screeched as the belly tendril circled her navel and dove in. "AAAAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!" she added as two more tendrils began to explore her tender, defenseless underarms. "OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO-OH-HO!!!” she bellowed as her unbearably sensitive NIPPLES began to be teased—!
It was absolutely UNBEARABLE and Bonnie writhed with an energy born of desperation as the tendrils methodically tickled her to pieces. She screamed hilariously, hysterically, at the top of her lungs, with scarcely a pause to draw breath. And the more she screamed, the more she struggled, the more the tickle torture GOT—!.
"Why Bonnie," Dominique snickered at one point when poor damned soul’s laughter had faded to a hitching wheeze. "You're actually tickled pink!"
It was true. Every square inch of her bare body was crawling with goose bumps, covered with a delicate cold sweat, and flushed a pale shade of pink. The only exceptions were her face, which was positively purple with laughter, and her light-brown nipples.
"Heeeeeeee. . ." Bonnie wheezed. "Eeeeeeeeee. . ."
The torture was a horrid as ever, but she was becoming too exhausted to respond to it. Her struggles diminished to a feeble, continuous trembling.
"Well!" said Dominique. "I believe you're ready for my next surprise, dear."
She snapped her fingers and the tickling stopped. The tendrils paused for a moment. Two remained zeroed in on Bonnie's rigid nipples. One wrapped itself around her right thigh and poked its tip between her legs. And the one that hadn't yet stirred from the small of Bonnie's back trailed down to trace the cleft of her buttocks!
Bonnie gasped.
The tendrils at her breasts began to tease her nipples again. An instant later, the one in back began to tease her ASSHOLE! And the one between her legs began to stroke her curl-covered MOUND—!
Bonnie wiggled her hips. "Ooooooo!" she moaned.
Her body, super-sensitized by the merciless tickling, responded eagerly to these new caresses. Bonnie's belly rippled. Her nipples extended themselves to the max. Her puckered asshole relaxed to admit the teasing tendril. Her leg muscles tightened. Her back arched. Her hips began to squirm.
"I'll bet you'd like to CUM, darling, wouldn't you?" asked Dominique. She smiled. "I'll bet you'd like to cum your stupid little BRAINS out."
"Oh, YES!” Bonnie cried. "Oh, yes PLEEEESEEEEE!" The quartet of teasing tendrils was driving her mad with lust! Intense, erotic thrills shot through her breasts, loins and belly. Goose bumps roughened her silky skin. Her nipples ached deliciously.
"Maybe I can help." Dominique snapped her fingers. The tendril probing Bonnie's anal orifice wiggled just a BIT deeper! The one between her thighs stroked just a BIT harder!
"UUUUUURRRRRRUGH!!!!" Bonnie grunted. "GGGGRRRRMMMMUPH!!!"
Bonnie pumped her hips back and forth in a desperate effort to make the tendrils go DEEPER—but somehow, no matter what she did, they never went QUITE deep enough. The tendrils at her breasts kept up their delicious caressing, but the two that were teasing her secret places always drew back when Bonnie began to feel herself getting close. So she tried harder. And harder. But it was no good. It was no fucking GOOD—!
The absolute horror of it dawned on her, then. The tendrils had her poised right at the EDGE of orgasm—but they were never going to push her OVER that edge! Bonnie begged. She wept. She shimmied her hips.
But Dominique only smiled coldly.
"Really," she laughed in answer to Bonnie's increasingly frenzied pleas, "you didn't actually expect me to let you CUM, did you? That's not the way things work down here, darling!"
It went on and on, until Bonnie was positive she'd go totally fucking CRAZY (but you CAN’T go crazy in Hell), and when it ended, Dominique put her through another extended session of full-body tickling. When THAT ended (after several lifetimes of mad laughter), and Bonnie's brain had ceased to reverberate with the hideous sound of her own screeching hilarity, she found herself in a new place.
Sand. She was buried up to the chin in sand.
Bonnie tried to move and found that she'd been buried in a kneeling position with her arms bound behind her back. Her ankles were also tied together. So there was no way she was going to dig herself out.
A booted foot appeared in front of her face. "Comfortable, darling?" It was Dominique. "I hope so, because I'm going to have to leave you here for quite a long time."
Bonnie kept her mouth shut. For the moment, at least, she wasn't being tortured. Maybe if she remained quiet. . .
"I have pressing business elsewhere," Dominique went on. "No rest for the wicked, you know! But don't WORRY, darling! I guarantee you won't be bored!"
A slender, fleshy tendril rose out of the sand not three inches from Bonnie's face. It possessed a delicate, feathery tip.
"I should be back in, oh, a millennium or two." Dominique leaned over and patted Bonnie's cheek. "Bye now."
And she disappeared, leaving Bonnie all alone.
The tendril waved back and forth. Bonnie followed it with terror- stricken eyes. It moved closer to her face. It was aiming for. . .for. . .
Bonnie's eyes crossed in an effort to keep the tendril in focus as it moved closer, closer—and finally stroked the bridge of her NOSE—!
Bonnie sneezed. Then she giggled hysterically. Then she started to scream with manic LAUGHTER—!
And she didn't STOP screaming for a long, LONG time. . .
Sweet Revenge # 3
THE LAST LONG LAUGH
Something was tugging at her wrists and ankles.
Bonnie's eyes popped open just as the mechanism of the rack gave a final squeak and fell silent. She tried to sit up and couldn't. Her naked (but WHY was she naked?) body was totally immobilized, stretched almost but not quite to the point of pain.
But what was going on? Where WAS she? Bonnie's mind was a blur. She remembered. . .she remembered. . .she COULDN’T remember anything except. . .
Nothing. And it was hard to think, hard to concentrate, when you were lying naked on some kind of torture device, with your wrists tied together and your arms above your head and your legs spread and your ankles bound to the ends of an iron bar.
The tarry odor of the rope and the sharp scent of her own cold sweat tickled Bonnie's nostrils. With some difficulty, she raised her head a little and took a look around.
The rack appeared to be placed in the middle of a large, bare room. The walls were built of rough, uneven gray stone blocks. Though she couldn't see the floor, Bonnie had the feeling that they were constructed of the same material. Oddly, however (for the room was otherwise well-lit), it was impossible to see the ceiling. There was nothing up there but a kind of haze.
"Hello?" Bonnie called in a small, fearful voice. "Is anyone here? Where am I?"
"Hello, Bonnie. Nice of you to drop by."
Bonnie's head twisted in a futile effort to see who had spoken. The voice—a throaty female voice with a mocking edge—had come from somewhere behind her. But she couldn't SEE—she couldn't see a THING—!
"Be patient, darling." The unseen woman chuckled in a way that made Bonnie's stomach flutter. "We'll have plenty of time to get to know one another, you and I."
"Who ARE you?" Bonnie cried. "And where ARE we?"
"My name doesn’t matter," the woman answered. "Why don't you just call me—Dominique?"
That stopped the breath in Bonnie's throat. Dominique was HER name—her “weekend” name, as she'd always thought of it. Mistress Dominique, the High Priestess of Hilarity, who just LOVED to tie up pretty girls and tickle them silly.
So this was some kind of payback! It had to be! Bonnie smiled. Whoever had gone to all this trouble was in for a big surprise. Because Bonnie, though she loved to tickle, wasn't ticklish herself. Not even a little. Not at all.
"Dominique" stepped to the foot of the rack and Bonnie finally got a look at her. She was a tall, slender, striking blonde with icy blue eyes and lush red lips. She was wearing a simple black form-fitting jumpsuit, presumably with boots—Bonnie thought she had heard the heels tap across the stone floor. It was a familiar costume, not too different from what Bonnie herself was accustomed to wear for a weekend frolic.
"All right," Bonnie said, smiling up at the woman. "Let's get this over with. Do your worst."
Dominique smiled. "I told you, darling, there's no hurry. For the moment I just want to feast my eyes on you. I've always been partial to dark-haired girls—especially when they're so. . .voluptuous."
Bonnie blushed and she squirmed a little. Her large, firm breasts jiggled.
"Time for your punishment to commence, dear." With a sly smile, Dominique took Bonnie's right big toe between her thumb and forefinger. She bent back the toe and, with her free hand, dragged a long, sharp nail down the center of Bonnie's bare foot.
"EEEEEE!!!" Bonnie squealed in surprise. "That TICKLES!”
"Really?" Dominique grinned. "And how about THIS??
Her fingers danced over the heel of Bonnie’s foot. "AAAAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!" Bonnie yelped. "HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!”
Something was wrong! Something was VERY wrong, Bonnie realized as Dominique's nails moved to the tender arch of the foot. "EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!" she squealed. "EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
It TICKLED! What Dominique was doing SHOULDN’T have been tickling her silly—but it WAS—!
She tried to suppress her laughter, tried to ignore the effect of Dominique's ministrations, but it was no good. "EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!" she screamed as intense ticklish sensations shot up her quivering leg. "OH PLEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEESE!!! DON'T TICK-HICK-EEEEEE-HICK-HEE-HEE-HEE-HICK-HICKLE MEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!"
"But you're NOT ticklish, darling, isn't that so?" Dominique drawled, drawing a sharp fingernail along the side of the foot.
"OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!" Bonnie howled. "GAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-GAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!"
Dominique was using both hands now, stroking delicately with her long fingernails, and Bonnie was literally SCREAMING with laughter. Tears streamed from her eyes; spittle flew from her wide-open mouth. In some remote corner of her mind, Bonnie was certain that another SECOND of this hilarious anguish would drive her mad—or fucking KILL her! But the tickling went on and on—and Bonnie laughed and LAUGHED—and the exquisite, unbearable sensation grew not less but MORE intense as Dominique stroked, and stroked, and STROKED—!
At some point in the proceedings, her tormentress switched to the opposite foot—not that it mattered to Bonnie. She was too busy trying to draw breath between long, frantic, high-pitched shrieks of hysterical laughter to note such a minor detail. And when Dominique finally relented, Bonnie went right on laughing. It took her many minutes to regain some semblance of control over her tickle-tormented body -- and then she began begging for mercy.
"Please oh PLEASE don't tickle me any more!" she wheezed. "I can't STAND it—!"
"But Bonnie, darling, that was just a TASTE—just the merest SAMPLE—of the torments that lie in store for you." Dominique's lips curved up in an evil grin and she laid a hand on her victim's trembling thigh. "So I'm afraid that you'll simply HAVE to stand it."
"You can't!" Bonnie wailed. "You'll KILL me!"
"Not to worry, darling," Dominique chuckled. "You see, Bonnie, you're ALREADY dead!"
”Oomygod NO!” Bonnie wailed.
"It's a bit late to be invoking His name, I'm afraid." A glint of red appeared in Dominique's eyes. "You belong to US now—specifically to ME.”
"This can't be HAPPENING!” Bonnie wailed.
Dominique laughed then. It was a terrible, booming laugh that seemed to strike Bonnie with the force of a physical blow. She screamed as the realization hit her—she was damned, damned, damned to Hell for eternity—!
"That's right," Dominique said. "You're DAMNED, darling. Damned to an eternity of TICKLING!"
The rack to which Bonnie was bound twisted like a live thing. In an instant, she found herself upright, arms high above her head, legs spread. The rack had turned itself into an open wooden frame. Her ankles were secured by ropes to the bottom corners of the frame; her wrists were tied together and secured to an iron hook. The frame creaked, extending itself slightly to stretch Bonnie's body.
"In Hell," explained Dominique, "things are arranged—and rearranged—to suit the needs of the moment." She stepped forward and patted her victim's cheek. "I think you're going to find this next procedure rather. . .absorbing."
She stepped back and snapped her fingers. Instantly, a pink, fleshy tentacle, about the thickness of a female forearm, sprang up from the floor in front of Bonnie like some demented plant. It had a blunt end which, as she watched disbelievingly, divided itself into three slender tendrils with feathery tips. They waved back and forth in front of her face. Then the center tendril darted forward. Bonnie felt it brush her belly just below the navel. She wiggled and her breasts swayed. That seemed to attract the attention of the other two tendrils, which lengthened themselves and bent to lightly touch her rigid nipples.
A moment later, Bonnie felt something touch the small of her back. She moaned. Something touched her sides, just below the armpits. She squirmed. Though she couldn't see it, Bonnie knew that another tentacle had grown out of the floor behind her.
"Please—wait—DON’T!" she begged. "I'm in the wrong PLACE! It’s a MISTAKE! I didn't do anything BAD!”
Dominique put on an expression of regret and shook her head. "Sorry, darling, but The Authority, as we call Him down here, isn't exactly what you'd call broad-minded or politically correct. He has this rule against 'unnatural love.' as it's called in The Book of Sin. Just the fact that you liked girls would have been enough to land you here."
Bonnie squirmed a little and the tendrils responded with a series of light, rapid strokes. She yelped.
"Better not move, dear." Dominique's lips twisted up in an evil, gloating grin. "If you hold perfectly still while we're chatting, they won't tickle you."
Bonnie made her muscles freeze.
"That's better," her tormentress said. "Now, as I was saying, if you'd come to us with nothing on your soul but the sin of unnatural love, we'd simply have tossed you into the Rain of Fire. That's the final destination for run-of-the-mill damnees, of whom we get a huge number." Dominique chuckled. "We get far too many, in fact, to provide them all with the kind of personalized service YOU’RE receiving."
"But what did I DO?!” Bonnie moaned.
"You TICKLED, darling." Dominique held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. "In itself that's not a sin—but surely you haven't forgotten about poor Gloria? I'm afraid you got just a bit carried away with THAT young lady. Didn't she end up in a mental hospital—tickled silly, as it were?"
"I didn't MEAN to!" Bonnie protested. "It was an ACCIDENT!"
"Yes, well, that accident, as you call it, placed you in my hands for individualized attention." Dominique laughed. "And the irony is that poor Gloria sent you here. She escaped from the loony bin, tracked you down, and shot you. Then, alas, she shot herself—for which sin of suicide she has, of course, taken up permanent residence in the Rain of Fire. So you see, Bonnie, you've actually quite a LOT to answer for!"
"I'm sorry!" Bonnie insisted. "Sorry! SORRY!"
"Not as sorry as you're ABOUT to be," Dominique added. She snapped her fingers again.
'HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!" Bonnie screeched as the belly tendril circled her navel and dove in. "AAAAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!" she added as two more tendrils began to explore her tender, defenseless underarms. "OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO-OH-HO!!!” she bellowed as her unbearably sensitive NIPPLES began to be teased—!
It was absolutely UNBEARABLE and Bonnie writhed with an energy born of desperation as the tendrils methodically tickled her to pieces. She screamed hilariously, hysterically, at the top of her lungs, with scarcely a pause to draw breath. And the more she screamed, the more she struggled, the more the tickle torture GOT—!.
"Why Bonnie," Dominique snickered at one point when poor damned soul’s laughter had faded to a hitching wheeze. "You're actually tickled pink!"
It was true. Every square inch of her bare body was crawling with goose bumps, covered with a delicate cold sweat, and flushed a pale shade of pink. The only exceptions were her face, which was positively purple with laughter, and her light-brown nipples.
"Heeeeeeee. . ." Bonnie wheezed. "Eeeeeeeeee. . ."
The torture was a horrid as ever, but she was becoming too exhausted to respond to it. Her struggles diminished to a feeble, continuous trembling.
"Well!" said Dominique. "I believe you're ready for my next surprise, dear."
She snapped her fingers and the tickling stopped. The tendrils paused for a moment. Two remained zeroed in on Bonnie's rigid nipples. One wrapped itself around her right thigh and poked its tip between her legs. And the one that hadn't yet stirred from the small of Bonnie's back trailed down to trace the cleft of her buttocks!
Bonnie gasped.
The tendrils at her breasts began to tease her nipples again. An instant later, the one in back began to tease her ASSHOLE! And the one between her legs began to stroke her curl-covered MOUND—!
Bonnie wiggled her hips. "Ooooooo!" she moaned.
Her body, super-sensitized by the merciless tickling, responded eagerly to these new caresses. Bonnie's belly rippled. Her nipples extended themselves to the max. Her puckered asshole relaxed to admit the teasing tendril. Her leg muscles tightened. Her back arched. Her hips began to squirm.
"I'll bet you'd like to CUM, darling, wouldn't you?" asked Dominique. She smiled. "I'll bet you'd like to cum your stupid little BRAINS out."
"Oh, YES!” Bonnie cried. "Oh, yes PLEEEESEEEEE!" The quartet of teasing tendrils was driving her mad with lust! Intense, erotic thrills shot through her breasts, loins and belly. Goose bumps roughened her silky skin. Her nipples ached deliciously.
"Maybe I can help." Dominique snapped her fingers. The tendril probing Bonnie's anal orifice wiggled just a BIT deeper! The one between her thighs stroked just a BIT harder!
"UUUUUURRRRRRUGH!!!!" Bonnie grunted. "GGGGRRRRMMMMUPH!!!"
Bonnie pumped her hips back and forth in a desperate effort to make the tendrils go DEEPER—but somehow, no matter what she did, they never went QUITE deep enough. The tendrils at her breasts kept up their delicious caressing, but the two that were teasing her secret places always drew back when Bonnie began to feel herself getting close. So she tried harder. And harder. But it was no good. It was no fucking GOOD—!
The absolute horror of it dawned on her, then. The tendrils had her poised right at the EDGE of orgasm—but they were never going to push her OVER that edge! Bonnie begged. She wept. She shimmied her hips.
But Dominique only smiled coldly.
"Really," she laughed in answer to Bonnie's increasingly frenzied pleas, "you didn't actually expect me to let you CUM, did you? That's not the way things work down here, darling!"
It went on and on, until Bonnie was positive she'd go totally fucking CRAZY (but you CAN’T go crazy in Hell), and when it ended, Dominique put her through another extended session of full-body tickling. When THAT ended (after several lifetimes of mad laughter), and Bonnie's brain had ceased to reverberate with the hideous sound of her own screeching hilarity, she found herself in a new place.
Sand. She was buried up to the chin in sand.
Bonnie tried to move and found that she'd been buried in a kneeling position with her arms bound behind her back. Her ankles were also tied together. So there was no way she was going to dig herself out.
A booted foot appeared in front of her face. "Comfortable, darling?" It was Dominique. "I hope so, because I'm going to have to leave you here for quite a long time."
Bonnie kept her mouth shut. For the moment, at least, she wasn't being tortured. Maybe if she remained quiet. . .
"I have pressing business elsewhere," Dominique went on. "No rest for the wicked, you know! But don't WORRY, darling! I guarantee you won't be bored!"
A slender, fleshy tendril rose out of the sand not three inches from Bonnie's face. It possessed a delicate, feathery tip.
"I should be back in, oh, a millennium or two." Dominique leaned over and patted Bonnie's cheek. "Bye now."
And she disappeared, leaving Bonnie all alone.
The tendril waved back and forth. Bonnie followed it with terror- stricken eyes. It moved closer to her face. It was aiming for. . .for. . .
Bonnie's eyes crossed in an effort to keep the tendril in focus as it moved closer, closer—and finally stroked the bridge of her NOSE—!
Bonnie sneezed. Then she giggled hysterically. Then she started to scream with manic LAUGHTER—!
And she didn't STOP screaming for a long, LONG time. . .
