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Inquisition theater scene (repost)

Haltickling

2nd Level Green Feather
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Tickleme's story 'The Heretics' Lament' inspired me to repost an excerpt from my novel 'The Pleasure Paradise Club'. Enjoy!

***

… - "Patience, my dear boss and club owner. To give you a little rest, we have prepared a small stage show for you to watch. Let me explain the scenery: You've certainly heard about the medieval inquisition and their witch-hunting. If the accused woman deemed the inquisitors too noble in rank, or too well reputed in the community, they didn't always use heavy torture to get confessions out of them. Instead, they used methods that were just as efficient, but which didn't leave any marks on their victims. Can you guess what kind of torture they used ?" - "Tickling, of course," Cindy, Sheila and I chorused.

- "Right. How did you guess ?" Monica beamed genially. "As the inquisitors moved around in the countryside, they didn't always have a fully equipped torture chamber at hand, so they used whatever facilities they could find. A stable, for example. And that's exactly where we're going to take you now."

Two gardeners who had waited nearby to watch the show came by and loaded the three bound 'chairpersons' on a four-wheel trailer, normally utilized to transport lawn-mowing machines to the golf course. They pulled the trailer to the stable area and carried us inside. Beside the horse boxes, there was a larger area serving as a hay storage. A set of heavy wooden stocks stood in the center. The horses were out in the corral, so the animals wouldn't get upset by the ongoings which promised to be accompanied by loud laughter.

Our partly bottomless chairs were placed in the front row to ensure a perfect view on the stage. The other girls took their seats on previously positioned chairs behind us, completing the strange theater. The whole room turned silent in expectation of the things to come. The actors entered, first of all a balding thick-set man in a coarse, dark brown monk's cowl. He was followed by two hostlers as assistants, dressed in medieval costumes. He sat down on a high-backed chair, behind a small antique writing desk, his whole bearing showing his self-importance.

He opened the large ledger on the desk, grumbling: -"Now, whom do we have next ? Ah, the mayor's niece, that snotty little brat. One of the villagers accused her of sorcery. Bring her in !" His assistants obeyed.

Monica sat behind me, and I turned my head to murmur to her: -"Where the hell did you get him ?" Monica smiled and whispered back: -"He's an actor at a local theater, and one of our clients. This isn't the first time we employ him, he's real good. And he doesn't cost us anything, he volunteers gladly for such plays as long as some tickling is involved."

- "Silence in the audience," the mock inquisitor thundered, "or I shall punish you severely." His assistants dragged in a wildly struggling girl in a suitable costume and tied her hands to a wooden post. A bale of hay served as her seat. Then they opened the stocks and immobilized her ankles in the holes. The bald monk raised his voice: -"In the name of the Holy Inquisition, you have been accused of sorcery. I am here to hear your confession. Talk to me !"

The girl was a fetching brunette with long curly hair and a gorgeous figure. She pleaded fervently: -"Oh, please, Father, I'm a good christian, and I know nothing at all about sorcery. What wicked villain has dared to accuse me of such dreadful things ? Surely, it must be an enemy of my uncle, the mayor !"

The inquisitor looked at her sternly. -"The accusation of sorcery is severe. A witness observed you in your uncle's stable, doing strange things with a black cat, murmuring magic formulae all the while. And the witness is a well respected member of your community, not a villain. Well, what do you have to say for your defense ?"

The girl replied anxiously: "Nonsense ! Our cat was in labors, ready to throw her litter. All I did was to give her some milk and soothe her pains with gentle words and soft caress. That is an act of christian charity, nothing else. And what business had that witness to do in our stable ? Was he pursuing me onto our own premises, perhaps intending harm on a blemishless virgin like me ?"

The inquisitor howled with rage: "How dare you compare yourself to Holy Mary, the only absolutely blemishless virgin ? That alone is an act of blasphemy, if not a sign of your guilt ! The witness's report is very clear: He heard you utter incomprehensible words like a prayer to the devil, and you touched the black cat with a cock feather. This kind of black ritual is known to be as a devil's mass, the books of the Holy Inquisition are full of confessions describing such dark incidents. Be told, you evil witch, we have means to make you confess !"

The girl trembled with fear now, but she still showed some courage: -"You won't dare to torture me, you fanatic ! One single trace of torture on my body, and my uncle will feed you to the dogs. You know how he loves me, his only niece. Bring him here and confront him with the so-called witness, and you will hear how false these dreadful accusations are !"

This play sounded very realistic. Most of the witch trials were based on envy, hatred, or greed, and a single denunciation was all the inquisitors needed to interrogate the accused woman. Once under the torture, they were sure to confess anything the inquisitor wanted to hear. The whole show usually ended on a burning stake. But the monk continued:

- "I know well that your uncle is a powerful man. But what can he do against a signed confession of sorcery ?" - "One look at me, and he will know that only the torture could have produced such a confession !"

The inquisitor put on a nasty grin: -"You are so sure of yourself, aren't you, you witch ? Only the devil himself is able to make you act so confidently. But we will make you confess without leaving any marks on your body. You dare to laugh at this threat ? Well, so be it. Your torture will be your own evil laughter !" He addressed his assistants: "Remove her shoes, and cover her feet with brine !"

What the heck did salt water have to do with tickling ? And tickling was the underlying motive, of course. I was to find out soon enough. The clunky shoes were taken off the beautiful feet, and the two assistant torturers sponged soles and toes with salt water from a nearby bucket. This touch produced the first giggles from the girl; clearly her feet were very ticklish, and the men enjoyed their work.

Finally, the delicious feet were literally soaked with brine. The inquisitor ordered: -"Bring in the torture instruments !" The delinquent asked fearfully: -"What is all this about ? What are you going to do to me ?"

Again, the sadistic grin appeared on the monk's face: -"You won't be able to testify against your torturers. We shall not touch you at all. The almighty God in his wisdom provides a wide range of means to make you confess. One of his most useful creations is the goat. Goats need salt badly, and two of your uncle's goats have been requisitioned by the Holy Inquisition last week, immediately after the accusations. Not a single speck of salt have they tasted since then, and they really need some now. What will happen if they find so much of the desired nourishment on your feet ?"

The girl struggled vehemently in her bondage. In utter despair she exclaimed: -"Nooo, their tongues will tickle me to death !!" Again the inquisitor smiled: -"If you don't confess in time, exactly that will happen !" The hostlers reentered the stage, each with a goat on a rope. Smelling the brine, the animals got very excited. Immediately, their tongues started to lick the salt off the girl's feet. The victim burst into agonized laughter at once. Tears rolled down her beautiful, now contorted face, and she threw her head about wildly, tugging viciously at the ropes that restrained her.

When the goats had licked all the salt off the soles, they tackled the toes. Their tongues sneaked between them, eliciting more tortured laughs from the delinquent. The whole session lasted for five minutes at most, but the girl almost fainted. At the inquisitor's wink, his assistants held back the goats to give the victim a chance to confess.

The girl giggled on long after the actual tickling had stopped. Looking at her sternly, the monk asked: - "Now, wouldn't it be better to confess your evil doings right now, before the second stage ?" The poor maid was so much out of breath, she was unable to answer.

- "All right, you are asking for it," scowled the inquisitor. "Tie the goats to that post over there, and remove the witch's blouse ! You know what I want." Obediently the assistants followed his order. The goats were still hungry for more salt, but they were tied out of reach while the girl's blouse was taken off. Cleverly, the men untied only one arm to slip the garment off. Then they started to sponge the now nude upper body with brine.

Again, the girl reacted to the sponge's touch already. She had perfect breasts, and the guys made sure they spread the salt water there lavishly. Then they took away the bucket and untied the goats once more.

The salty smell came from the sides, armpits, and stomach now, so the goats' tongues concentrated there. First both of them attacked from the same side, forcing the victim to cring her body away. But they soon discovered that there was not enough room for both of them, so one jumped over the legs, taking care of the other side.

As if the animals had been trained for the event, they instinctively used the most efficient way of torturing the girl. Long licks over stomach and ribcage were followed by a searching dabble in the armpits. In addition to the eager tongues, their goat beards touched the sensitive skin a few inches below their mouths, increasing the ticklish sensations.

And the victim's reactions made clear that those sensations were pure, sadistic torture. She freaked out completely, shrieking in top voice and struggling madly. Although I pitied her honestly, this sight aroused me considerably. Looking at my two girls beside me, I realized they felt alike.

Shortly before the delinquent could faint, she cried out in desperation: -"I confess !!!" Immediately the goats were drawn back. The monk rose from his chair: -"You confess what ?" - "Whatever you like, but please stop the tickling !" the victim wailed. Pretending benevolence, the cruel interrogator asked: -"You confess to have held a devil's mass in the stables, using a black cat ?"

The girl mumbled something incomprehensible. -"Louder !" ordered the monk. -"Okay, I confess it. Suddenly a demon took possession of me and made me do strange things I couldn't understand. But I'm not a witch, believe me. I was under evil force."

- "Do you repent from your very soul ?" - "Yes, Father, I do. I still don't know what had happened to me then. I swear by god, it will never happen again. Please, don't tickle me any more."

The mock monk seemed satisfied. -"Well, it seems you are more a victim of sorcery than a real witch. But the evil demon is still lurking inside you. We have to extort it for good. Tell me, are you still an untouched virgin ?" The girl nodded. "Then there is still hope for you, my daughter. You are lucky, I am an experienced exorcist. But the procedure is painful and sometimes dangerous. Do you honestly want to get rid of the evil demon ?"

- "Whatever the cost," replied the girl, "as long as it isn't done by tickling." Her interrogator smiled: -"It will only tickle at the start, but then holy rapture will fill your body. Believe me, you will be able to feel it the moment the devil leaves you." Her ordered that her wide skirts and undergarments were taken off. His assistants stripped the girl naked after untying her. She consented meekly. Then she had to lie down in reverse position: Her ankles were tied to the same ropes that had held her arms before. This way, her legs were widely spread, suspended in mid-air. And her wrists got locked in the stocks.

The assistants took up the salt water sponges again. Squeezing them, the brine dropped on the open, exposed snatch of the girl. Then, the goats were let loose once more. This time, their joint target was the pelvic area. It tasted of salt, but it seemed the animals liked pussy juice, too. They lapped their tongues eagerly all over the girl's genitals, sometimes even penetrating her vulva and anus.

At the first touches, the victim giggled shrilly. But soon, the intense manipulations on her private parts had her moaning and sighing. The goats' tongues literally raped her, the goat beards tickling around her ass. Quickly, she screamed and arched in orgasm. Another one followed instantly.

Watching this made me almost come myself, especially as some anonymous benefactor was tickling my feet with straws, as well as my scrotum which still dangled through the hole in my seat. Similar things happened to Sheila and Cindy, they hopped around on their chairs excitedly.

The victim on the stage was still in throes from the goat tickling climax. When it became clear that her spasms had ebbed, the goats were taken away. The inquisitor rose and spoke up: "Now, my daughter, the evil demon has left you. We tickled him out of you, and he couldn't bear the look into paradise that you were allowed in the past few minutes. Swear by the Holy Bible that you will lead a good christian life in the future, and no more demons will take possession of you. And you have to swear to remain silent about this exorcism, or its effect would be reversed." The girl's hands had been untied in the meantime, and she lay them both on the bible the monk held out for her. -"I swear by God !"

The monk blessed her and said: -"Just to make the second part of your oath easier for you, I have prepared a minute of our interrogation, which you will sign now. It contains your full confession, and should you dare to break the exorcism secret, I will make this confession public. You know the consequences."

- "Don't misunderstand me, Father, I intend to keep my oath. But if I sign this document, you could destroy me and my uncle at whim. What if I don't sign it ?" The monk shrugged. -"Then the goats will be brought back, and I won't stop them this time. You will be tickled to death to ensure your keeping the secret. And nobody will be any wiser what happened, as there will be no marks on your body. Decide now !"

Reluctantly, the delinquent signed the paper. Only then, her feet were released from the bondage. She stood up, and all actors bowed to the audience, who applauded loudly. As we three 'chairpersons' had no hands free to clap, we shouted our bravo.

Monica addressed us: -"Did you like our little pseudo-historic play ?" - "Terrific, excellent, really," I complimented them, Sheila and Cindy nodding their approval. The other girls beamed happily. Some of them had rather red faces, I had noticed some sounds of masturbation and petting in the background during the stage play. Monica stood up and suggested: -"Now, let's get out into the fresh air again, we still have got more surprises for you."

I interrupted her: -"Before we leave this stable, do me a favor: I'm too curious how a goat's tongue feels on my feet. Can you arrange a little test ?" Monica laughed and consented: "Why, that's a great idea. I should have thought of it myself. Your feet are already tied in a good position, so let's start."


Two of the girls sponged my feet lavishly with the salty liquid, and the goats were brought back in. Now, that was something else. It tickled in a completely different way than anything I had experienced before. The tongues were rough and raspy, but slippery wet at the same time. Thus, their rather strong pressure on my soles didn't hurt, it only seemed the tickling happened deeper under the skin. Maybe the best way to describe it is a comparison with tummy tickling: It tickles one way if you touch it very lightly, but it feels totally different when the fingers dig in deeply. …
 
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