Pale Serpent
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Warning: Story contains extreme spanking, armpit tickling, death, graphic female sexuality, bondage, and disgusting descriptions.
An immense pool of darkness swirled about Lillian McCrae, the vortex of consciousness and eternity. The complete absence of thought and sensation kept the girl placid, non-resisting. No voice, no music, no interruption in the deepening silence of the pulmonating void. If she could, the girl should have wept deafeningly at her circumstance, for these were the drifting tides of her recent and sudden demise. For, three days ago on her 21st birthday, her life had been prematurely ended during a fatal car crash; since that incident, her spirit had been unwillingly swept along a dark and treacherous passage with many chambers and branching tunnels leading to unknown fates.
The potent stupor to which Lillian's existence clung suddenly broke, and she was plummeting into one of the many winding subsections of the passage. She screamed, and the noise was clear and chilling in the spacious, apparently unoccupied chamber into which her soul had been violently thrust. Her senses were restored with startling clarity, and she was assaulted at once by a dank and fetid smell, the precursor of what was to be expected from the contents of that space. The fall was long and terrible, yet it did not begin to compare to the landing.
The word 'appalling' lacks the breadth to describe the horror of the ground onto which she fell. She had been engulfed by a writhing mass of tentacles, the rank fluids pouring down her throat as she screamed in despair and revulsion. It seemed, somehow, that in death her senses had been newly amplified so as to force her to suffer disgusting smells and textures tenfold. Lillian recognized the stench to be that of decaying fish. As she vomited up the foul liquid in which she was bathed, more simply poured in. She thrashed wildly, her arms and legs striking futilely against what felt like rubber tubes coated in a gelatinous slime.
For a long moment, nothing else happened. The girl should have drowned a thousand deaths in that putrid lake had she not already been deceased; her 'lungs' were filled with it, and her ability to taste, heightened many times along with her sense of smell, presented a source of terrible suffering. This was hell, she'd easily decided. She couldn't imagine what she'd possibly done to deserve this fate - she hadn't ever been religious, not even slightly superstitious. Death was supposed to be the end, one just stopped existing, it wasn't logical to be able to feel even more than a living body would, and to suffer more greatly in death than in life.
Her head broke the surface of the rancid fluid, and several things occurred. First, she looked around the chamber with elevating alarm. The space had not been constructed, but rather grown; the walls and the high ceiling all thrummed and pulsed with life. Further, every inch was covered with the bodiless tentacles, the color of which was a fleshy red. They all moved individually, were of differing sizes and shapes, and were all actively secreting a gross slime like an overproductive slug. Up until then, these tentacles had not caused her any offense other than the secretion of that odious slime, but all at once they sprang from quiet dormancy to severe and hostile action.
Lillian's screams changed to a more urgent pitch as the tentacles suddenly closed around her wrists, waist, and ankles. She was quickly stretched into a spread-eagle position; the tentacles which had moved with apparent independence now operated with a single, common purpose. Her attempts to resist were completely in vain. The tentacles were soft and rubbery to the touch, but were infinitely stronger than Lillian. She could not break loose from their hold any more so could she have crushed titanium with her bare hands as a living human. They were supernaturally powerful. As she screamed, one of the smaller tentacles slid into her mouth and down her throat. There, it choked her with irritating movements, deliberately stroking the inner walls of her throat to cause a continuous gagging response.
No longer could she utter screams, but her eyes wept as the tentacle in her throat moved back and forth slowly and without relent. Instead of suction cups, the underside of the tentacle was lined with spiny bristles that lightly scratched the sensitive flesh of the inner throat, eliciting repeated retching motions that failed to expel the intruding appendage. Biting had no effect on the arm inflicting this torment; her teeth would have shattered before leaving a dent on the tentacle. A living person under this treatment might have suffocated in a matter of time, but she could not die again. Moreover, slime was produced continuously from the skin of the tentacle inside of her, filling her stomach and lungs to the point of overflow; excess slime ran from the corners of her mouth and out her nostrils.
The girl scarcely noticed the two slender tentacles that had crept toward her face, until each had inserted itself into a nostril. These were different from the other tentacles in that they were very thin, but completely coated in small, twitching bristles. Lillian instantly jerked her head back from the extreme irritation, but the tentacles quickly slithered deep into her nasal passages, where they stayed. There, the bristles all moved individually, like a sea urchin swaying its spines with the flow of the ocean's current. The resulting intense itch was intolerable, but she had no choice except to endure it.
As hellish as the situation already was, the fact remained that there were countless other tentacles in that chamber, climbing up the walls and along the ceiling, writhing across the ground. All were designed to serve a specific purpose, none were to be left idle for long. The tentacles that firmly secured Lillian's arms and legs had an underlining of especially powerful suction cups that would never release unless they willed it. And so the girl stayed in that vulnerable position, unable to move at all, while hundreds of thousands of tentacles squirmed about her, waiting their turn to serve their purpose, and she could do nothing at all to halt it.
It took little time before the next pair of tentacles to inflict some fashion of torment presented themselves. These were, once more, different in appearance from the others. Each of the two tentacles ended in a set of feelers that wriggled individually and relentlessly; there were at least twenty of these attached to the tips. Curiously, one tentacle remained behind as the other approached the girl, creeping forward with what could have been mistaken for hesitation. While a central brain was no doubt in control of all these arms, this one tentacle behaved as if it were observing, contemplating the girl that suffered in front of it. Then, it slid purposefully toward her left armpit, still with slow movements; at the first touch by these feelers, Lillian's body suddenly tried, in desperation, to jerk away from them. A surge of liquid burst from her mouth in a scream. The tentacle quickly drew back, as if it had merely been testing its victim.
As her senses had been significantly increased to maximize the torment, Lillian's body was now intensely ticklish - exponentially more than any human ever was. It had been sheer agony, that instant when the feelers touched her exposed armpit, and a scream of laughter had erupted from her tortured throat. She had not been ticklish as an adult, but was as a child, yet this was far worse than the ticklings she had experienced back then. Even the awful five-minute tickling she'd gotten once at the age of six had been mild compared to that single second with the tentacle's feelers. After a moment of deliberation, both of the tentacles suddenly lunged toward her, positioning themselves at each armpit, the feelers prodding the vulnerable skin there at a frenzied rate, constantly varying the speed, patterns, and pressure.
The newly added sensation nearly eclipsed the other torments being applied in unison to the young woman's body. Her human heart would have exploded from the intensity of the tickling; the skin of her armpits had been made a hundred times more sensitive than those of the most ticklish person there ever was. The tentacles that had held her limbs out spread-eagle changed the angle somewhat to accomodate the tickling, so that her arms were now stretched straight above her head, allowing complete access. Her struggles were entirely nullified by the immovable strength of her tormentor; there was no escape, no guarding against what this creature wished to do. Any pleads for mercy were silenced by the slime-coated tentacle lodged in her throat.
Lillian did not really notice at first when the tentacles that secured her ankles slowly raised them higher into the air, bending her legs and spreading them apart to expose her genital area. A dozen of small, delicate-looking tentacles now arose from the churning mass below. Their tips positioned at the inner edges of her labia, they gently pried the lips apart as far as they would go, revealing the vulvar region and vaginal entrance. Another dozen of the small tentacles, which were very thin and tipped with a feathery swab, rushed forward to swarm over the exposed vulva. The delicate skin there was then lightly stroked by their feathery tips, and Lillian's body betrayed her as it responded to the undeniable sensation of pleasure. The little tentacles continually teased and traced the vulva and outer opening to her vagina, and then, one began to slide inside.
It, being lithe and narrow, easily slid all of the way inside to the cervix. It behaved as a sexual organ might, sliding out a little way and then back in, each time giving her cervix a little stroke with the feathery brush at its tip. The other tentacles that waited at the entrance were squirming and writhing together as if from eagerness; there were now a solid thirty of them gathered around the woman's small opening. A second exploratory tentacle broke from the pack and slid into the hole; the passage was a little tighter now with two tentacles inside at the same time. This one, too, was armed with a feathery tip, and moved with similar motions, each time brushing against Lillian's cervix. The sensation of the two tentacles sliding in and out was physically very pleasurable, despite the act being repulsive in nature.
One more, then two, squirmed its way inside of Lillian. With more creeping out of the abyss and into her body, uninvited and unwanted, yet she was in no posiiton to stop it. Her insides were being invaded by every conceivable opening, and there was nothing that she could do. With her legs held wide apart to grant maximum access, her vagina was soon filled to capacity by dozens of the thin, worm-like tentacles that wriggled and throbbed in her most vulnerable place. Several of the tentacles inside were using their tips to pry open her cervix, and a few began to dart in and out of it. One tentacle remained at her clitoris; its tip was shaped like pincers, and it had attached itself to the tiny organ, throbbing and pulsing. All at once, Lillian experienced an orgasm, but it was unlike any she had known on earth.
As with the rest of her senses, her ability to feel pleasure had been increased; in addition, the orgasm kept on going at its peak. She could not stop it. The strength of it was supernatural, electrically charged, incapacitating. Two-dozen tentacles slipped in and out of her mechanically, producing a massive amount of slime that provided an endless source of lubrication. There were no limitations to how deep these monstrous tendrils could go into her body; without having any means to stop them, the tentacles were now probing into her uterus, and the larger tentacle in her throat had journeyed down into her stomach. She was being completely violated, penetrated, taken over by these horrible devices of torment. Worse still was her forced reaction to their applications; frantic screams of laughter erupted from her throat in response to the extreme tickling of her armpits, the muscles of her body locked in eternal orgasm as the swarm of tentacles writhed deep inside of her like worms in a carcass. By all outward appearances, she was greatly enjoying herself, but internally she was in combat with a nightmare, an undefinable horror.
The mind is a fragile instrument; it can shatter as easily as a glass pot that has been flung onto a hard surface. In the beginning of this experience, Lillian had perceived these sensations as an attack by a hostile creature, that this environment could be nothing other than the infernal confines of Hell. In spite of never binding herself to a religion, it had still been her first assumption; society had nonetheless succeeded in cultivating these suspicions even in the hearts of the non-believers. As 'time' went by (there was no means by which to measure it in this enclosed space), Lillian's thought processes began to change, her perception of the tentacles' intentions altering gradually. It was not long before she started to question where her own body ended and the tentacles began, so intertwined and connected were they. Helpless to stop the tentacles from performing their assigned tasks, she began to give in to the sensations, unbearable though they seemed.
It had become her new 'life'. Whatever had occurred in the past while she was alive no longer existed or mattered; the tentacle that stroked the inside of her throat had always been there, it was a part of her. The dozens of smaller tentacles that swarmed inside of her vagina, around the cervical opening and in her uterus belonged there - she would feel empty without them. The tickling of her exposed armpits actually did cease on rare occasion, pausing abruptly although the tips of the feelers remained pressed against the skin. These acts of mercy, however seldom, were received with intense gratitude by the young woman. She started even to accept and enjoy the pleasure of the squirming tentacles between her legs. As impossible as it might be to try to comprehend, Lillian had begun to feel an appreciation for the creature, and the more accepting of it she became, the more merciful it seemed to grow.
The creature was her keeper and the only world she now knew. Upon her introduction to it, she had greatly resisted and rejected it - and it had punished her for doing so. It could have done so much worse to her, she had to admit. It had the strength and the power, but it elected instead to tickle her, a sentence that had been reserved once only for royal offenders. And, sometimes it stopped tickling completely, allowing her a moment's respite. That was the reward, she realized, for not feeling so repulsed by the tentacles any longer. The being could read her thoughts and decipher the way she felt. In time, Lillian had even started to feel guilt for the way she had tried to fight off the tentacles on her arrival. She was utterly dependent on them - it was they who decided how much or how little she must suffer. It was they who she was to rely on and solely interact with for the remainder of eternity. She needed them.
However, this change in thinking did not occur at once. It took some time before Lillian surrendered completely to the beast. She decided that she deserved to be tickle-tortured for the way she had acted, and that the creature was very kind to cease even for a little bit. She began to appreciate the way the tentacles held up her arms, so as to not block access when she was tickled; if released, she felt that she would now willingly raise her arms to receive the tickling underneath them, and that she would even ask for it if it stopped for too long. She began to love, actually love, the tentacles that swarmed inside of her vagina and stroked her vulva, deciding that it was an intimate expression of the bondage that existed between her and the creature. They were inside as deep as they could go, and yet she began to wish they could be in even deeper.
Everything suddenly stopped when one particular thought entered Lillian's mind: that she was not being punished enough for her crimes. She found herself being gently released by the tentacles, the ones inside of her being gradually pulled out, and she was lying there in the pool of dormant tentacles, relenting at last. Her consciousness was not able to comprehend it at first, that she was free. The word no longer existed in her vocabulary and the concept made no sense. She looked around at the lax tentacles, not with revulsion this time but with great fondness and respect. It could be said that she worshipped them; any punishment dealt by them would be immediately accepted, any reward treasured. And they were so much stronger than she. She had learned not to fight against the massive strength of the creature's arms, but instead to admire it with deep reverence.
Lillian suddenly realized that she was being listened to, that the creature whose mighty limbs writhed beneath her was heeding the thoughts in her mind. I love you! she called internally to it. And she meant it, with every fibre of her being. The only emotions that she now felt toward the creature were love, trust, respect, and admiration. She was still, however, plagued by guilt for how she had previously acted. She needed something else to assuage that guilt. These thoughts were transferred directly to the creature, whose reaction was immediate. Two tentacles rose from the squirming mass, their tips shaped like spades, flat and wide. Like all of the other tentacles, these dripped with the slime that they constantly produced. A third tentacle, thick with muscular strength, also emerged and formed a downturned arc near the upraised spade-tipped tentacles. Understanding the meaning, the girl went at once toward the tentacles that now waited in position.
With no trace of hesitation or fear, Lillian trustingly lay over the arc-shaped tentacle so that her bottom was raised high in the air. She had faith that she would receive the correct amount of punishment, no more and no less. Even though she was completely docile, two tentacles shot up out of the churning pit to wrap themselves around her wrists. She did not mind, and even lovingly caressed the tentacles with her hands. She wished that she could kiss them, let them slip into her mouth and even down her throat, where they could be inside of her, as they belonged. Would they feel pleasure, if she sucked on them? She wondered on this, but no answer or acknowledgement of the question came. As she waited atop the thick tentacle, she willingly parted her legs, to show to the beast that she would not hide herself from it. With her bottom up in the air, the openings of her anus and vagina visible as they should always be, the new punishment commenced.
One of the spade-tipped tentacles slammed hard against one cheek, instantly leaving a large red mark on it. As that tentacle drew back, the other swung forward to deliver an equally hard smack against the other cheek. Lillian suddenly understood why her wrists needed to be held, and appreciated it - the burning pain that immediately flared in her bottom arrived as a shock, and she experienced even more guilt for tugging once against the bonds that held her. She had just tried to escape - again! It was unbelievable, and she hung her head in shame, repenting for that brief flash of resistance. The tentacles struck her bottom again and again, and the heat in her bottom grew intense. Still, she did not dare try to move her arms again, and after a while, her wrists were suddenly released. The beast trusted her, it seemed, to stay in that position on her own.
Feeling that more needed to be done in order to quell her guilt, the woman parted her legs even further, sending thoughts to the beast about what she wished to happen. In response, another tentacle was lifted from the pool of slime, this one thin and rope-like. It sliced through the air, the sharp movement causing a whistling noise, and landed with precision directly between the cheeks with a loud snap like a whip. The area it covered included the region between the cheeks, the anus, and the vulva. She gave a cry of pain, but it was immediately followed by a great sigh of relief. It would now be a very thorough spanking, which was exactly what her soul was pleading for. The spade-tipped tentacles varied the angle of each spank, so that the entirety of each cheek would receive the amount of punishment it needed.
Lillian did not know how many spanks she received, as she did not feel the need to count them. Time did not hold sway here, and the number of spanks did not matter. The point was to be punished thoroughly for her behavior, to be taught the lesson completely. She wept openly as she lay on the arc tentacle, but it was from a combination of pain and relief. She needed this, and the tears on her face were from gratitude. The whip tentacle, which landed always with perfect aim on her most vulnerable place, hurt the most, but she determinedly kept her legs wide apart. There was no longer any need for restraints; she was willingly lying in a very vulnerable position, purposefully exposing her most sensitive parts to receive a painful punishment, and it was clear that she would not try to escape or protect herself.
It seemed natural for her to lie there, having her bottom and genitals spanked long and hard by the tentacles. The position itself was that of submission, and the fact that she had gone into that position on her own was a sign of her accepting the punishment. She preferred to think of it more as a correction - she was being instructed and this was the lesson, nothing more. She used this time to reflect on all she had ever done wrong here, as the tears flowed freely down her face. Each spank was dealt with equal force, and there was a brief pause between spanks to allow the girl to appreciate the sting. Lillian quietly contemplated the creature's spanking method, and the burning pain in her bottom. It was important, she decided, for a spanking to hurt - the pain helps to alleviate guilt and make things right again. The beast was wise, and her respect for it increased as the spanking continued.
On earth, the count of the spanks would have exceeded sixty thousand, and after the last blow fell, her bottom felt as if it were on fire. The 'skin' was still intact, as the deceased do not bleed, but the pain that would normally accompany such a severe and long spanking could be fully felt by her. She would not have been pacified by anything less. After the spanking, she lay limp on the arc tentacle that had supported her the entire time, and she let her legs relax, but still kept them slightly apart so that her vulva remained visible and accessible. She had learned the lesson well, and, lowering herself from the tentacle, she gave it a loving caress; the touch caused some of the slime to come off on her hand, which she quickly licked off and drank. The smell was still that of decaying organic matter, but it no longer deterred her.
One tentacle approached the girl, but stopped about halfway. There it lingered, and she recognized it at once as the type that is meant for tickling. Its dozens of feelers wriggled in the air, and she remembered clearly how they had felt when applied to her underarm. She had honestly found the spanking easier to endure than the tickling, but she understood what needed to be done. She moved toward the waiting tentacle, closing the distance. The tentacle remained in place, at the correct height for tickling her armpit if her arm were raised, she realized. Obediently, Lillian lifted her right arm as high as she could, even bending a little to the side for maximum exposure, and then pressed herself against the tentacle. At once, the incredibly intense tickling sensation hit her, and she was screaming with laughter. Her need to show complete submission to the creature overcame the instinct to protect her armpit from the wriggling feelers, and with great effort she succeeded in keeping her arm raised high.
Lillian had accepted that she was going to be tickled if the creature decided that she needed it, and learning to keep her arms up on her own was important. It was an expression of her total surrender; being restrained meant that she was still in defiance of her fate, and resistance was the worst crime here. Her life on earth had been erased from her memory; she knew only these tentacles and the sensations they inflicted on her body. They were gods of enormous power, and her body was their domain. With this knowledge in mind, Lillian forced herself to raise her other arm into the air. She understood that if she was to be tickled, it should be done properly - both armpits must be tickled at the same time to achieve the maximum effect. In reply, another tentacle tipped with feelers came toward her, placing itself at her left armpit, where it belonged.
Screams and shrieks of laughter filled the chamber, and the girl was shaking as she held both of her arms straight up. But at that point, there was no danger of the arms being lowered. She had learned very much here: the purpose of the armpit is to be tickled. Her underarms were ticklish because they were supposed to be tickled - frequently and without resistance. That was the law here. The feelers of the tentacles tickled both underarms with maddening expertise, probing deep into the pit, making circles along the outer edges, varying the techniques to maximize the intensity of the tickle. Lillian was soon driven to hysterics by it, but still her arms did not drop, nor would they ever until she had been tickled enough, which would only be determined by the creature, not her.
After a time, the tickling ceased and the two tentacles spiraled backward down into the pool of slime. Lillian did not immediately lower her arms even then; in case the creature should change its mind and resume the tickling, she kept her armpits fully accessible for a moment longer. For a while, nothing happened. The tentacles merely writhed and moved along the floor and walls as they normally would, without acknowledgement of her. It was the first true reprieve she was given since being dropped into the chamber so long ago. Love for the creature flooded her heart, as it was allowing her to move freely and without being subjected to some type of unpleasant or painful sensation. It was, for now, sated by her displays of submission, and she had been granted a rare gift of mercy.
Lillian desperately wished to express her love for the creature. She lay down on the mass of tentacles, feeling them squirm beneath her. The thick, foul-smelling slime covered her body from head to foot, and she began to bathe, cleanse herself with it. She washed her face and hair in it. She cupped some in her hands and drank all of it, licking her palms dry. With legs parted, she reached down to open herself up, letting the slime flow into her relaxed vagina. There was a shifting amongst the bed of tentacles, and one tentacle emerged before her, this one different from all the rest. It was very thick, entirely coated with irritating bristles, and tipped with beak-like parts resembling those on a speculum. Slime dribbled continuously from the beaked tip. The beak opened, and many worm-like appendages slithered out, wriggling frantically. These were long, thin, and tipped with feathery brushes. They drew back into the beak of the large tentacle as it closed.
Only one thought existed in Lillian's mind now, and it was to get the tentacle inside of her as soon as possible. She parted her legs as far as they would go, bending the knees, and used her fingers to hold aside the folds of her labia, providing complete access to her vagina. The large tentacle approached the awaiting hole, and it did not appear at first that it would be able to fit. The beaked tip pressed hard against the small opening, forcing its way inside violently. The girl cried out in pain, feeling herself being stretched and filled to near-rupturing capacity. The tentacle slid all of the way in, its bristles scratching and irritating her tightly stretched vaginal walls. The bristles were toxic, and secreted an especial venom that caused a burning sensation inside of her, but she merely wept and continued to hold her legs wide apart. The beaked tip clamped onto the cervix and opened it, and the worm-like extensions flooded into the uterus, exploring the inner walls of it with their feathery brushes. Great amounts of slime spilled from the tip as well, the excess fluid running back out of her.
The tip of a stray tentacle brushed against the side of Lillian's face, and she parted her lips to let it slide into her mouth. There, she sucked eagerly at it, swallowing the slime that seeped out of its skin. Soon, her stomach was filled with the fluid, but still she did not stop. When the two tentacles with tickling feelers emerged once more, she raised her arms at once to grant them access to where they needed to go. And so she'd found herself back in the same position as before, only this time she was willing and unrestrained. It had dawned on her that the perception of heaven and hell had been distorted by human society, that what is considered hell for some may indeed be heaven for others. As Lillian lay on that writhing bed of slime with tentacles probing deeply into every opening of her spiritual body, she realized that this creature was her god, and this had always been heaven.
An immense pool of darkness swirled about Lillian McCrae, the vortex of consciousness and eternity. The complete absence of thought and sensation kept the girl placid, non-resisting. No voice, no music, no interruption in the deepening silence of the pulmonating void. If she could, the girl should have wept deafeningly at her circumstance, for these were the drifting tides of her recent and sudden demise. For, three days ago on her 21st birthday, her life had been prematurely ended during a fatal car crash; since that incident, her spirit had been unwillingly swept along a dark and treacherous passage with many chambers and branching tunnels leading to unknown fates.
The potent stupor to which Lillian's existence clung suddenly broke, and she was plummeting into one of the many winding subsections of the passage. She screamed, and the noise was clear and chilling in the spacious, apparently unoccupied chamber into which her soul had been violently thrust. Her senses were restored with startling clarity, and she was assaulted at once by a dank and fetid smell, the precursor of what was to be expected from the contents of that space. The fall was long and terrible, yet it did not begin to compare to the landing.
The word 'appalling' lacks the breadth to describe the horror of the ground onto which she fell. She had been engulfed by a writhing mass of tentacles, the rank fluids pouring down her throat as she screamed in despair and revulsion. It seemed, somehow, that in death her senses had been newly amplified so as to force her to suffer disgusting smells and textures tenfold. Lillian recognized the stench to be that of decaying fish. As she vomited up the foul liquid in which she was bathed, more simply poured in. She thrashed wildly, her arms and legs striking futilely against what felt like rubber tubes coated in a gelatinous slime.
For a long moment, nothing else happened. The girl should have drowned a thousand deaths in that putrid lake had she not already been deceased; her 'lungs' were filled with it, and her ability to taste, heightened many times along with her sense of smell, presented a source of terrible suffering. This was hell, she'd easily decided. She couldn't imagine what she'd possibly done to deserve this fate - she hadn't ever been religious, not even slightly superstitious. Death was supposed to be the end, one just stopped existing, it wasn't logical to be able to feel even more than a living body would, and to suffer more greatly in death than in life.
Her head broke the surface of the rancid fluid, and several things occurred. First, she looked around the chamber with elevating alarm. The space had not been constructed, but rather grown; the walls and the high ceiling all thrummed and pulsed with life. Further, every inch was covered with the bodiless tentacles, the color of which was a fleshy red. They all moved individually, were of differing sizes and shapes, and were all actively secreting a gross slime like an overproductive slug. Up until then, these tentacles had not caused her any offense other than the secretion of that odious slime, but all at once they sprang from quiet dormancy to severe and hostile action.
Lillian's screams changed to a more urgent pitch as the tentacles suddenly closed around her wrists, waist, and ankles. She was quickly stretched into a spread-eagle position; the tentacles which had moved with apparent independence now operated with a single, common purpose. Her attempts to resist were completely in vain. The tentacles were soft and rubbery to the touch, but were infinitely stronger than Lillian. She could not break loose from their hold any more so could she have crushed titanium with her bare hands as a living human. They were supernaturally powerful. As she screamed, one of the smaller tentacles slid into her mouth and down her throat. There, it choked her with irritating movements, deliberately stroking the inner walls of her throat to cause a continuous gagging response.
No longer could she utter screams, but her eyes wept as the tentacle in her throat moved back and forth slowly and without relent. Instead of suction cups, the underside of the tentacle was lined with spiny bristles that lightly scratched the sensitive flesh of the inner throat, eliciting repeated retching motions that failed to expel the intruding appendage. Biting had no effect on the arm inflicting this torment; her teeth would have shattered before leaving a dent on the tentacle. A living person under this treatment might have suffocated in a matter of time, but she could not die again. Moreover, slime was produced continuously from the skin of the tentacle inside of her, filling her stomach and lungs to the point of overflow; excess slime ran from the corners of her mouth and out her nostrils.
The girl scarcely noticed the two slender tentacles that had crept toward her face, until each had inserted itself into a nostril. These were different from the other tentacles in that they were very thin, but completely coated in small, twitching bristles. Lillian instantly jerked her head back from the extreme irritation, but the tentacles quickly slithered deep into her nasal passages, where they stayed. There, the bristles all moved individually, like a sea urchin swaying its spines with the flow of the ocean's current. The resulting intense itch was intolerable, but she had no choice except to endure it.
As hellish as the situation already was, the fact remained that there were countless other tentacles in that chamber, climbing up the walls and along the ceiling, writhing across the ground. All were designed to serve a specific purpose, none were to be left idle for long. The tentacles that firmly secured Lillian's arms and legs had an underlining of especially powerful suction cups that would never release unless they willed it. And so the girl stayed in that vulnerable position, unable to move at all, while hundreds of thousands of tentacles squirmed about her, waiting their turn to serve their purpose, and she could do nothing at all to halt it.
It took little time before the next pair of tentacles to inflict some fashion of torment presented themselves. These were, once more, different in appearance from the others. Each of the two tentacles ended in a set of feelers that wriggled individually and relentlessly; there were at least twenty of these attached to the tips. Curiously, one tentacle remained behind as the other approached the girl, creeping forward with what could have been mistaken for hesitation. While a central brain was no doubt in control of all these arms, this one tentacle behaved as if it were observing, contemplating the girl that suffered in front of it. Then, it slid purposefully toward her left armpit, still with slow movements; at the first touch by these feelers, Lillian's body suddenly tried, in desperation, to jerk away from them. A surge of liquid burst from her mouth in a scream. The tentacle quickly drew back, as if it had merely been testing its victim.
As her senses had been significantly increased to maximize the torment, Lillian's body was now intensely ticklish - exponentially more than any human ever was. It had been sheer agony, that instant when the feelers touched her exposed armpit, and a scream of laughter had erupted from her tortured throat. She had not been ticklish as an adult, but was as a child, yet this was far worse than the ticklings she had experienced back then. Even the awful five-minute tickling she'd gotten once at the age of six had been mild compared to that single second with the tentacle's feelers. After a moment of deliberation, both of the tentacles suddenly lunged toward her, positioning themselves at each armpit, the feelers prodding the vulnerable skin there at a frenzied rate, constantly varying the speed, patterns, and pressure.
The newly added sensation nearly eclipsed the other torments being applied in unison to the young woman's body. Her human heart would have exploded from the intensity of the tickling; the skin of her armpits had been made a hundred times more sensitive than those of the most ticklish person there ever was. The tentacles that had held her limbs out spread-eagle changed the angle somewhat to accomodate the tickling, so that her arms were now stretched straight above her head, allowing complete access. Her struggles were entirely nullified by the immovable strength of her tormentor; there was no escape, no guarding against what this creature wished to do. Any pleads for mercy were silenced by the slime-coated tentacle lodged in her throat.
Lillian did not really notice at first when the tentacles that secured her ankles slowly raised them higher into the air, bending her legs and spreading them apart to expose her genital area. A dozen of small, delicate-looking tentacles now arose from the churning mass below. Their tips positioned at the inner edges of her labia, they gently pried the lips apart as far as they would go, revealing the vulvar region and vaginal entrance. Another dozen of the small tentacles, which were very thin and tipped with a feathery swab, rushed forward to swarm over the exposed vulva. The delicate skin there was then lightly stroked by their feathery tips, and Lillian's body betrayed her as it responded to the undeniable sensation of pleasure. The little tentacles continually teased and traced the vulva and outer opening to her vagina, and then, one began to slide inside.
It, being lithe and narrow, easily slid all of the way inside to the cervix. It behaved as a sexual organ might, sliding out a little way and then back in, each time giving her cervix a little stroke with the feathery brush at its tip. The other tentacles that waited at the entrance were squirming and writhing together as if from eagerness; there were now a solid thirty of them gathered around the woman's small opening. A second exploratory tentacle broke from the pack and slid into the hole; the passage was a little tighter now with two tentacles inside at the same time. This one, too, was armed with a feathery tip, and moved with similar motions, each time brushing against Lillian's cervix. The sensation of the two tentacles sliding in and out was physically very pleasurable, despite the act being repulsive in nature.
One more, then two, squirmed its way inside of Lillian. With more creeping out of the abyss and into her body, uninvited and unwanted, yet she was in no posiiton to stop it. Her insides were being invaded by every conceivable opening, and there was nothing that she could do. With her legs held wide apart to grant maximum access, her vagina was soon filled to capacity by dozens of the thin, worm-like tentacles that wriggled and throbbed in her most vulnerable place. Several of the tentacles inside were using their tips to pry open her cervix, and a few began to dart in and out of it. One tentacle remained at her clitoris; its tip was shaped like pincers, and it had attached itself to the tiny organ, throbbing and pulsing. All at once, Lillian experienced an orgasm, but it was unlike any she had known on earth.
As with the rest of her senses, her ability to feel pleasure had been increased; in addition, the orgasm kept on going at its peak. She could not stop it. The strength of it was supernatural, electrically charged, incapacitating. Two-dozen tentacles slipped in and out of her mechanically, producing a massive amount of slime that provided an endless source of lubrication. There were no limitations to how deep these monstrous tendrils could go into her body; without having any means to stop them, the tentacles were now probing into her uterus, and the larger tentacle in her throat had journeyed down into her stomach. She was being completely violated, penetrated, taken over by these horrible devices of torment. Worse still was her forced reaction to their applications; frantic screams of laughter erupted from her throat in response to the extreme tickling of her armpits, the muscles of her body locked in eternal orgasm as the swarm of tentacles writhed deep inside of her like worms in a carcass. By all outward appearances, she was greatly enjoying herself, but internally she was in combat with a nightmare, an undefinable horror.
The mind is a fragile instrument; it can shatter as easily as a glass pot that has been flung onto a hard surface. In the beginning of this experience, Lillian had perceived these sensations as an attack by a hostile creature, that this environment could be nothing other than the infernal confines of Hell. In spite of never binding herself to a religion, it had still been her first assumption; society had nonetheless succeeded in cultivating these suspicions even in the hearts of the non-believers. As 'time' went by (there was no means by which to measure it in this enclosed space), Lillian's thought processes began to change, her perception of the tentacles' intentions altering gradually. It was not long before she started to question where her own body ended and the tentacles began, so intertwined and connected were they. Helpless to stop the tentacles from performing their assigned tasks, she began to give in to the sensations, unbearable though they seemed.
It had become her new 'life'. Whatever had occurred in the past while she was alive no longer existed or mattered; the tentacle that stroked the inside of her throat had always been there, it was a part of her. The dozens of smaller tentacles that swarmed inside of her vagina, around the cervical opening and in her uterus belonged there - she would feel empty without them. The tickling of her exposed armpits actually did cease on rare occasion, pausing abruptly although the tips of the feelers remained pressed against the skin. These acts of mercy, however seldom, were received with intense gratitude by the young woman. She started even to accept and enjoy the pleasure of the squirming tentacles between her legs. As impossible as it might be to try to comprehend, Lillian had begun to feel an appreciation for the creature, and the more accepting of it she became, the more merciful it seemed to grow.
The creature was her keeper and the only world she now knew. Upon her introduction to it, she had greatly resisted and rejected it - and it had punished her for doing so. It could have done so much worse to her, she had to admit. It had the strength and the power, but it elected instead to tickle her, a sentence that had been reserved once only for royal offenders. And, sometimes it stopped tickling completely, allowing her a moment's respite. That was the reward, she realized, for not feeling so repulsed by the tentacles any longer. The being could read her thoughts and decipher the way she felt. In time, Lillian had even started to feel guilt for the way she had tried to fight off the tentacles on her arrival. She was utterly dependent on them - it was they who decided how much or how little she must suffer. It was they who she was to rely on and solely interact with for the remainder of eternity. She needed them.
However, this change in thinking did not occur at once. It took some time before Lillian surrendered completely to the beast. She decided that she deserved to be tickle-tortured for the way she had acted, and that the creature was very kind to cease even for a little bit. She began to appreciate the way the tentacles held up her arms, so as to not block access when she was tickled; if released, she felt that she would now willingly raise her arms to receive the tickling underneath them, and that she would even ask for it if it stopped for too long. She began to love, actually love, the tentacles that swarmed inside of her vagina and stroked her vulva, deciding that it was an intimate expression of the bondage that existed between her and the creature. They were inside as deep as they could go, and yet she began to wish they could be in even deeper.
Everything suddenly stopped when one particular thought entered Lillian's mind: that she was not being punished enough for her crimes. She found herself being gently released by the tentacles, the ones inside of her being gradually pulled out, and she was lying there in the pool of dormant tentacles, relenting at last. Her consciousness was not able to comprehend it at first, that she was free. The word no longer existed in her vocabulary and the concept made no sense. She looked around at the lax tentacles, not with revulsion this time but with great fondness and respect. It could be said that she worshipped them; any punishment dealt by them would be immediately accepted, any reward treasured. And they were so much stronger than she. She had learned not to fight against the massive strength of the creature's arms, but instead to admire it with deep reverence.
Lillian suddenly realized that she was being listened to, that the creature whose mighty limbs writhed beneath her was heeding the thoughts in her mind. I love you! she called internally to it. And she meant it, with every fibre of her being. The only emotions that she now felt toward the creature were love, trust, respect, and admiration. She was still, however, plagued by guilt for how she had previously acted. She needed something else to assuage that guilt. These thoughts were transferred directly to the creature, whose reaction was immediate. Two tentacles rose from the squirming mass, their tips shaped like spades, flat and wide. Like all of the other tentacles, these dripped with the slime that they constantly produced. A third tentacle, thick with muscular strength, also emerged and formed a downturned arc near the upraised spade-tipped tentacles. Understanding the meaning, the girl went at once toward the tentacles that now waited in position.
With no trace of hesitation or fear, Lillian trustingly lay over the arc-shaped tentacle so that her bottom was raised high in the air. She had faith that she would receive the correct amount of punishment, no more and no less. Even though she was completely docile, two tentacles shot up out of the churning pit to wrap themselves around her wrists. She did not mind, and even lovingly caressed the tentacles with her hands. She wished that she could kiss them, let them slip into her mouth and even down her throat, where they could be inside of her, as they belonged. Would they feel pleasure, if she sucked on them? She wondered on this, but no answer or acknowledgement of the question came. As she waited atop the thick tentacle, she willingly parted her legs, to show to the beast that she would not hide herself from it. With her bottom up in the air, the openings of her anus and vagina visible as they should always be, the new punishment commenced.
One of the spade-tipped tentacles slammed hard against one cheek, instantly leaving a large red mark on it. As that tentacle drew back, the other swung forward to deliver an equally hard smack against the other cheek. Lillian suddenly understood why her wrists needed to be held, and appreciated it - the burning pain that immediately flared in her bottom arrived as a shock, and she experienced even more guilt for tugging once against the bonds that held her. She had just tried to escape - again! It was unbelievable, and she hung her head in shame, repenting for that brief flash of resistance. The tentacles struck her bottom again and again, and the heat in her bottom grew intense. Still, she did not dare try to move her arms again, and after a while, her wrists were suddenly released. The beast trusted her, it seemed, to stay in that position on her own.
Feeling that more needed to be done in order to quell her guilt, the woman parted her legs even further, sending thoughts to the beast about what she wished to happen. In response, another tentacle was lifted from the pool of slime, this one thin and rope-like. It sliced through the air, the sharp movement causing a whistling noise, and landed with precision directly between the cheeks with a loud snap like a whip. The area it covered included the region between the cheeks, the anus, and the vulva. She gave a cry of pain, but it was immediately followed by a great sigh of relief. It would now be a very thorough spanking, which was exactly what her soul was pleading for. The spade-tipped tentacles varied the angle of each spank, so that the entirety of each cheek would receive the amount of punishment it needed.
Lillian did not know how many spanks she received, as she did not feel the need to count them. Time did not hold sway here, and the number of spanks did not matter. The point was to be punished thoroughly for her behavior, to be taught the lesson completely. She wept openly as she lay on the arc tentacle, but it was from a combination of pain and relief. She needed this, and the tears on her face were from gratitude. The whip tentacle, which landed always with perfect aim on her most vulnerable place, hurt the most, but she determinedly kept her legs wide apart. There was no longer any need for restraints; she was willingly lying in a very vulnerable position, purposefully exposing her most sensitive parts to receive a painful punishment, and it was clear that she would not try to escape or protect herself.
It seemed natural for her to lie there, having her bottom and genitals spanked long and hard by the tentacles. The position itself was that of submission, and the fact that she had gone into that position on her own was a sign of her accepting the punishment. She preferred to think of it more as a correction - she was being instructed and this was the lesson, nothing more. She used this time to reflect on all she had ever done wrong here, as the tears flowed freely down her face. Each spank was dealt with equal force, and there was a brief pause between spanks to allow the girl to appreciate the sting. Lillian quietly contemplated the creature's spanking method, and the burning pain in her bottom. It was important, she decided, for a spanking to hurt - the pain helps to alleviate guilt and make things right again. The beast was wise, and her respect for it increased as the spanking continued.
On earth, the count of the spanks would have exceeded sixty thousand, and after the last blow fell, her bottom felt as if it were on fire. The 'skin' was still intact, as the deceased do not bleed, but the pain that would normally accompany such a severe and long spanking could be fully felt by her. She would not have been pacified by anything less. After the spanking, she lay limp on the arc tentacle that had supported her the entire time, and she let her legs relax, but still kept them slightly apart so that her vulva remained visible and accessible. She had learned the lesson well, and, lowering herself from the tentacle, she gave it a loving caress; the touch caused some of the slime to come off on her hand, which she quickly licked off and drank. The smell was still that of decaying organic matter, but it no longer deterred her.
One tentacle approached the girl, but stopped about halfway. There it lingered, and she recognized it at once as the type that is meant for tickling. Its dozens of feelers wriggled in the air, and she remembered clearly how they had felt when applied to her underarm. She had honestly found the spanking easier to endure than the tickling, but she understood what needed to be done. She moved toward the waiting tentacle, closing the distance. The tentacle remained in place, at the correct height for tickling her armpit if her arm were raised, she realized. Obediently, Lillian lifted her right arm as high as she could, even bending a little to the side for maximum exposure, and then pressed herself against the tentacle. At once, the incredibly intense tickling sensation hit her, and she was screaming with laughter. Her need to show complete submission to the creature overcame the instinct to protect her armpit from the wriggling feelers, and with great effort she succeeded in keeping her arm raised high.
Lillian had accepted that she was going to be tickled if the creature decided that she needed it, and learning to keep her arms up on her own was important. It was an expression of her total surrender; being restrained meant that she was still in defiance of her fate, and resistance was the worst crime here. Her life on earth had been erased from her memory; she knew only these tentacles and the sensations they inflicted on her body. They were gods of enormous power, and her body was their domain. With this knowledge in mind, Lillian forced herself to raise her other arm into the air. She understood that if she was to be tickled, it should be done properly - both armpits must be tickled at the same time to achieve the maximum effect. In reply, another tentacle tipped with feelers came toward her, placing itself at her left armpit, where it belonged.
Screams and shrieks of laughter filled the chamber, and the girl was shaking as she held both of her arms straight up. But at that point, there was no danger of the arms being lowered. She had learned very much here: the purpose of the armpit is to be tickled. Her underarms were ticklish because they were supposed to be tickled - frequently and without resistance. That was the law here. The feelers of the tentacles tickled both underarms with maddening expertise, probing deep into the pit, making circles along the outer edges, varying the techniques to maximize the intensity of the tickle. Lillian was soon driven to hysterics by it, but still her arms did not drop, nor would they ever until she had been tickled enough, which would only be determined by the creature, not her.
After a time, the tickling ceased and the two tentacles spiraled backward down into the pool of slime. Lillian did not immediately lower her arms even then; in case the creature should change its mind and resume the tickling, she kept her armpits fully accessible for a moment longer. For a while, nothing happened. The tentacles merely writhed and moved along the floor and walls as they normally would, without acknowledgement of her. It was the first true reprieve she was given since being dropped into the chamber so long ago. Love for the creature flooded her heart, as it was allowing her to move freely and without being subjected to some type of unpleasant or painful sensation. It was, for now, sated by her displays of submission, and she had been granted a rare gift of mercy.
Lillian desperately wished to express her love for the creature. She lay down on the mass of tentacles, feeling them squirm beneath her. The thick, foul-smelling slime covered her body from head to foot, and she began to bathe, cleanse herself with it. She washed her face and hair in it. She cupped some in her hands and drank all of it, licking her palms dry. With legs parted, she reached down to open herself up, letting the slime flow into her relaxed vagina. There was a shifting amongst the bed of tentacles, and one tentacle emerged before her, this one different from all the rest. It was very thick, entirely coated with irritating bristles, and tipped with beak-like parts resembling those on a speculum. Slime dribbled continuously from the beaked tip. The beak opened, and many worm-like appendages slithered out, wriggling frantically. These were long, thin, and tipped with feathery brushes. They drew back into the beak of the large tentacle as it closed.
Only one thought existed in Lillian's mind now, and it was to get the tentacle inside of her as soon as possible. She parted her legs as far as they would go, bending the knees, and used her fingers to hold aside the folds of her labia, providing complete access to her vagina. The large tentacle approached the awaiting hole, and it did not appear at first that it would be able to fit. The beaked tip pressed hard against the small opening, forcing its way inside violently. The girl cried out in pain, feeling herself being stretched and filled to near-rupturing capacity. The tentacle slid all of the way in, its bristles scratching and irritating her tightly stretched vaginal walls. The bristles were toxic, and secreted an especial venom that caused a burning sensation inside of her, but she merely wept and continued to hold her legs wide apart. The beaked tip clamped onto the cervix and opened it, and the worm-like extensions flooded into the uterus, exploring the inner walls of it with their feathery brushes. Great amounts of slime spilled from the tip as well, the excess fluid running back out of her.
The tip of a stray tentacle brushed against the side of Lillian's face, and she parted her lips to let it slide into her mouth. There, she sucked eagerly at it, swallowing the slime that seeped out of its skin. Soon, her stomach was filled with the fluid, but still she did not stop. When the two tentacles with tickling feelers emerged once more, she raised her arms at once to grant them access to where they needed to go. And so she'd found herself back in the same position as before, only this time she was willing and unrestrained. It had dawned on her that the perception of heaven and hell had been distorted by human society, that what is considered hell for some may indeed be heaven for others. As Lillian lay on that writhing bed of slime with tentacles probing deeply into every opening of her spiritual body, she realized that this creature was her god, and this had always been heaven.
