no more mercy
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The Adventures of Angie and David
In
“CHINESE TAKE-DOWN!”
“My God, David, look at these things!” Angie laughed as they stopped at a table piled high with gaudy jewelry. Angie and her nephew were walking through their home city’s Chinatown, wandering through an outdoor marketplace; it was a warm fall day and they had no plans, and Angie had suggested this as something different. David, always eager to spend time with his favorite relative, had agreed.
“What do you think, hon, are they me?” Angie lifted a pair of large pagoda earrings, each about the size of a small doorknob, and held them up to her ears. The gold metal glinted against Angie’s long blonde hair as she grinned toothily. David smiled at the sight; even though she was but a few years away from the half-century mark, his aunt was more full of fun and joi de vivre than anyone else he had ever met. And she kept her tall, lithe body so trim and tanned, it was easy to forget her age.
“I don’t think they’re anybody, Angie,” David grinned. He never called her “Aunt”; she once teased him that it made her feel old. He thought of her more like a big sister.
“You’re right,” Angie said, putting the earrings back and making a disgusted face. “I can’t imagine anyone wearing those things! Except maybe to pick up satellite TV transmissions!” Angie and David laughed at her joke; they failed to notice the frown of disapproval on the face of the Chinese woman behind the table.
“Oh, and look at this!” Angie said, moving to another table where leather purses and wallets were sold. She picked one up and held it up for David’s inspection. “Genuine Gucci, do you think?”
“Oh, sure,” David joked. “If by ‘genuine’ you mean ‘cheap knock-off’.”
“Hell yes,” Angie giggled. “Probably made by four-year-olds in an overturned dumpster!” Angie tossed the purse back onto the table, dislodging several others in the display. The middle-aged Chinese man behind the table scowled angrily at her.
“They should make a reality show of this,” Angie giggled, moving from table to table making rude comments about the merchandise. “Call it Cheap Shit Roadshow, or something.”
“Or maybe Project Junkway!” David suggested.
Angie broke up laughing at that. “Perfect! Call the Bravo channel; they’ll make anything into a show!”
The aunt and nephew walked along, laughing loudly at their jokes, oblivious to the dark doorway they were about to walk past….until they felt strong hands clamp themselves over their arms and mouths, felt themselves yanked off their feet…
* * * * *
“What the fuck is going on here?!” Angie screamed at the top of her lungs. “You sick fuckers had better let us out right now! Hello? Can anybody hear me?!?”
“You shitheads are in so much trouble!” David shouted. “You’re gonna rot in prison for this! And then I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you! You hear me?!?”
Angie and David had been screaming like that for half an hour now. Before they had known what was happening, they had been pulled through the door into darkness, unable to see anything in front of them, hands always kept over their mouths to prevent them from speaking. They felt themselves being forced down a long flight of stairs, that winded several times; they had no idea how far below street level they had gone. They had been forced down, on their backs, onto some kind of padded furniture; their ankles had been strapped down, with their legs spread wide apart, and their hands forced high over their heads and their wrists strapped down tightly. Then they had been left alone together, in darkness, where they had shouted their heads off demanding release, promising vengeance, threatening all sorts of retribution. There had been no answer.
Finally, Angie grew silent; perhaps only resting her throat in preparation of another screaming session. David grew quiet too.
“Angie?” he asked her.
“I’m here, honey,” Angie replied.
“What do you think’s going to happen to us? I mean, why did they bring us down here?”
“How the fuck do I know?” Angie asked. “Maybe they’re white slavers, or something. Well, whatever they want with us, they’re not going to get away with it!”
“Such defiance,” came a new voice, a low, sultry, feminine voice, with an unmistakable Chinese accent to it. The new voice took the captives by surprise.
“Shit!” Angie cried out in shock.
“Who’s there?” David demanded.
In response, David heard the sound of a match being struck, saw a tiny flame burst in the darkness. After so long without any light at all, the little match seemed like a miniature sun. It was touched to the wicks of ten tall white candles, one by one, and soon the room filled with a soft, warm glow. David and Angie beheld a beautiful Chinese woman, wearing a dressing gown of flowing green silk with a Chinese dragon embroidered on it in golden thread. The woman’s jet-black hair was pinned up on top of her head in classic Chinese style; her fingernails were long, manicured to sharp points, and painted a glossy black. She was smiling at them, a hungry, wolfish smile; the leer of a predator facing helpless prey. The small boy in black Chinese pajamas who had lit the candles bowed to the woman and shuffled backwards out of the room.
“Welcome to your new home,” the woman smiled at them. “My name would cause your poor Western tongues much difficulty. You may simply call me Mistress.”
“The fuck I will!” David spat.
“Who are you?” Angie demanded. “Why were we brought here? We demand to—"
“You,” the Mistress cut Angie off, “are in no position to demand anything. You spent this day mocking the hard-working people of this community, belittling their wares, making a joke of our way of life. Well, now the tables are turned, are they not? Now, you will provide amusement for us.”
“You sick little bitch!” Angie hissed. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do with us, but I promise you—“
“Not that there was nothing in your crude display that I did not find pleasing,” the Mistress went on. “I did enjoy the sound of your laughter. Very musical, for a crude Western laugh. I would like to hear more of it.”
Angie snorted derisively. “Well, there isn’t much in this place to make me laugh, you festering ****!”
“We shall see,” the Mistress promised with a smile. She strode forward, towards Angie’s leather couch. Angie’s eyes grew wide at her approach, but she tried hard not to betray any fear. When the Mistress leaned down toward her prone form, though, the terror began to show through.
“W-what are you doing?” Angie demanded. “You s-stay away from me!” The Mistress held up her well-manicured hands, her fingers becoming undulating claws as they moved closer to Angie’s helpless form. “D-don’t you touch me! What are you—NO!” Angie screamed as she guessed the Mistress’ intent. “DON’T YOU DARE! NoOOOH!! OOOOOH!! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie’s screams turned into shrieks of laughter as the Mistress’ sharp fingernails began to gently stroke the tender skin of her armpits. Angie’s arms had been bound above her head in such a way that her armpits were stretched taut, tight as drumskins; the Mistress’ nails lightly grazed them, barely touching them at all, but it was enough to send surges of tickling sensation shooting through her helpless body like lightning. Angie cursed the warm day and her choice to wear a sleeveless top, as the cruel torturess manipulated her bare armpits to maximum effect!
“WAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie shrieked and screamed with laughter, writhing and twisting as much as her bonds allowed. The Mistress grinned with delight as her fingernails flew over Angie’s bare armpits. She was clearly enjoying her task. David watched with fascinated horror. He had seen his aunt tickled a few times before; had even done it once himself, when she had asked him for a back rub after a vigorous game of volleyball. He knew how ticklish she was, how this must be torture for her! And deep down, he knew—he was likely to be next!
“Such pretty laughter,” the Mistress teased as her fingernails gently scraped and stroked the tender skin of Angie’s armpits. “You are like a musical instrument, and your nerve endings are strings for my talented fingers to pluck. Make more music for me, crude Western woman. Laugh for your Mistress.”
“AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie was full of defiant words for her torturess, but could speak none of them; she was laughing so hard she could not catch the breath to make words. David watched the Mistress’ face, saw the cruel smile on it as she looked down at his aunt’s ticklish agony. The bitch was loving every second of this.
“Leave her alone!” David demanded. “You stinking bitch, stop tickling her!”
The Mistress glanced up, a look of feigned surprise on her face; yet her fingernails never stopped their dance in Angie’s armpits. “So, little Western boy thinks he can give his Mistress orders?” she cooed in her singsong voice. “Do you really want me to stop tickling your aunt, Western boy? Because if I do….I will tickle you.”
David tried to suppress a shudder. He was dreadfully ticklish, and he saw what those long nails could do. But he mustered up his courage. “Go ahead, ****! You think I’m afraid of a little koochie-koo? Fuck off!”
The Mistress grinned, the cruel smile of a predator coming upon a wounded bird. She lifted her hands from Angie’s armpits, and began to slowly stroll over to David’s couch. David involuntarily flinched at her approach, then silently cursed himself for it. Angie just lay on the couch, gasping for breath, gulping in the stale air of the torture chamber as though it were sweet mountain breezes.
“Brave boy,” the Mistress observed. “You must really love your aunt. Your Mistress can respect that; family honor is important to my people. But it will not spare you from my claws.” With that the Mistress lowered her fingernails to David’s waist, one hand on either side of his belly, and began to flutter her fingers like the wings of a butterfly. Her sharp nails grazed David’s waist through his thin T-shirt, sending jolts of electric sensation surging through him. David clamped his jaws tight, determined not to give this bitch the satisfaction of laughing; but the Mistress only giggled at his resolve, enjoying the challenge of breaking him.
“Don’t be shy, little boy,” the Mistress cooed, as she began to slowly move her fluttering fingernails up David’s sides. “Let the laughter out. Let your Mistress hear you laugh.” The expert torturess’ fingernails struck every rib, and every space between ribs, stimulating David’s nerves with surgical accuracy. He felt the laughter hammering at the back of his throat, demanding to burst free. “What is that silly little saying you Westerners have at times like this? Oh, yes. Coochie…coochie…cooo….” That did it; the laughter burst from David’s throat in a sudden explosion of volcanic proportions.
“WAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! SHIIIIIITT!!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“David!” Angie cried, watching her nephew’s agony. She knew first hand how ticklish he was; she had always enjoyed tickling her precious nephew, ever since he was a little boy. She had always delighted in their games; to see this woman, this, this bitch tickling him made her feel somehow…unclean. “Oh, David! You stinking ****, I swear I’ll see you rot in jail for this!”
The Mistress turned her head over her shoulder to stare at Angie, never stopping in her slow, careful torture of David’s ribs. “Are you so anxious to have your Mistress return her attentions to you, Western woman? Be patient. You will have your turn. I am not through playing with this toy just yet.”
David’s face burned with humiliation, but he could not even voice his shame; all he could do was laugh.
The Mistress grinned at him as her fingernails did their slow fluttering dance up and down his ribs. “Do you enjoy this, rude Western boy? You laughed so much at my poor people’s livelihood; do you enjoy being made to laugh for my amusement now? What, will you not answer your Mistress? So rude. But you will learn manners in time. For now…you will simply laugh.”
“WAH-HA-HA-HA!!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” David howled.
“Leave him alone!” Angie screamed. “You whore, get off him!”
The Mistress abruptly stopped tickling David, and turned her face toward Angie. A small smile played upon her lips, but her eyes glared at Angie with cold fury. “Whore, is it? A word not to be used lightly, Western woman. It seems your nephew is not the only one in need of a lesson in manners.” The Mistress strolled over toward Angie’s couch. Angie’s body tensed, preparing herself for another assault on her upper body. But her eyes grew wide with terror when she saw the Mistress slowly sink to her knees, at the foot of the couch.
“Oh, shit,” Angie whispered, as she felt the Mistress’ hands grasp her left shoe and deftly tug it off her foot. As ticklish as she was above the waist, her feet were a thousand times more so!
“What a crude foot,” the Mistress commented, examining the sole of Angie’s left foot. “So large, and meaty. No proper Chinese woman would display a foot like this. And these stockings you wear, of the decadent nylon. You shall see how improper they are, Western woman.”
And with that, the Mistress’ sharp fingernails began skittering over the nylon-sheathed sole of Angie’s left foot, scurrying like hyperactive spiders. Angie couldn’t even try to hold in the laughter; the second the Mistress’ nails touched the bottom of her foot, the tickling sensation overwhelmed her. She threw back her head, as much as the couch allowed, and shrieked with laughter.
“EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEK!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHGODOHGODOHGODOH, HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! HOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
The Mistress grinned as her nails danced over Angie’s left sole. Angie’s foot twitched and flailed like a fish in the bottom of a fisherman’s boat, trying to evade the nails; when the Mistress tired of that game, she simply grasped Angie’s toes with one hand, pried them back to stretch her sole out taut, and began rapidly stroking the nails of her other hand up and down Angie’s helpless arch, like strumming some musical instrument. The only music it produced was screeches of laughter from Angie’s tortured throat.
David watched the scene with fascinated horror. He wanted to cry out, to demand that this cruel bitch leave his aunt’s feet alone; but he dared not, coward that he was, because he knew that would only bring her attention back to him. So he watched, silent and helpless.
“Oh, but I am being neglectful,” the Mistress chided herself. “I am ignoring your other foot. That will never do, will it, Western woman? Both of your big ugly feet deserve the same attentions from your Mistress.”
“Shit, no!” Angie screamed, as she felt the Mistress’ fingers tugging at her right shoe. She desperately scrunched her toes up inside the shoe, trying futilely to hold it on her foot. “Not that foot too! Goddamn it, stahAHH!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” The Mistress had given a quick stroke of her nails to Angie’s left sole, causing her to spasm and the toes inside her right shoe to splay; the shoe came off quickly, and the Mistress began tickling the bottoms of both feet with reckless abandon. The torturous sensation now doubled, Angie was soon laughing beyond her capacity to draw breath; unable to make sounds, she merely writhed and convulsed, her mouth a wide-open, silent “O”. David watched, swallowing in fear. He silently prayed that this sadistic bitch wouldn’t get the idea to tickle his feet; but he knew, deep down, that sooner or later, she would!
“Do you begin to see the folly of having such large, deformed feet, Western woman?” The Mistress purred, as her nails danced across Angie’s soles and arches, along the undersides of her toes. “They are so sensitive to outside stimulation, so easily manipulated. A proper Chinese woman’s feet are not nearly so vulnerable. I would never be reduced to hysterical laughter so easily as you. Why, I barely have to touch your feet….”
“Nu Fa Yang!” a new voice, a male voice, barked into the dungeon. The Mistress stopped tickling Angie’s feet, and responded in her own language. Angie was gulping for breath, still giggling a little as the nagging tickling sensation remained on her feet even after the Mistress had stopped. The beautiful Chinese woman rose gracefully to her feet.
“You must excuse me,” she said to Angie and David, with a slight bow. “I am required elsewhere. But I shall return, long before you grow bored waiting for me.” And with that, she glided out of the room, silently as a shadow.
When they were certain she had gone, David turned to his aunt. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“I-I think so,” Angie gasped, her breath still coming in ragged gulps. “God damn it, my feet are so ticklish! That was torture, having to take it like that, not able to make it stop!”
“They have to let us go sometime,” David swore. “I mean…don’t they? S-someone will try to find us!”
“Nobody knows we’re here,” Angie said pragmatically. “We didn’t tell anyone we were coming to Chinatown today!”
“But they can’t keep us here!” David cried. “They can’t!”
“Who’s stopping them?” Angie wanted to know.
“But—“
“Sh!” Angie suddenly hissed. She had heard something. Footsteps approaching.
Angie and David looked up in wonder at the sight of four more Chinese women entering the room. Women? No; these were teenagers. It was difficult to gauge the ages of the Celestial females, but these couldn’t be more than eighteen / nineteen years old, if that. They were all dressed alike, surprisingly enough in Western-style schoolgirl outfits; navy blue skirts, white blouses, knee-high navy blue socks, black patent leather Mary Janes. This singular attire made them all look all the more alike, with their long straight black hair and creamy smooth golden skin. They smiled down at Angie and David, and grinned. Angie and David remained silent, not knowing what to expect from them.
“Ni pa yang?” one of the girls said, looking straight at David. David’s face contorted in a display of confusion. This girl could be asking him anything, from whether he was hungry to would he like a blow job. Somehow he doubted it was the latter.
“Uh…what?” he asked, stupidly.
“Pa yang!” the girl said more forcefully. Then she reached down with one hand and began to tickle David’s stomach.
“Hey! HAHAHAHA!! C-cut that out! HAHAHAHA!” David cried out through his laughter. This girl’s fingernails were not long and sharp like the Mistress’; in fact he felt the soft pads of her fingertips more than her nails. And the difference in sensation was overwhelming!
“Ta shi pa yang!” one of the other girls cried happily, and then began to giggle.
“Zhe li ye cheng li?” a third asked. Then she moved closer to David and began to wiggle her fingertips in his exposed armpits. This made David howl with laughter all the louder. “O shi hen!” she giggled, as she continued to tickle his armpits.
The one working on David’s stomach, without ceasing her ministrations, turned to look at the other two. “De dao ta de jiao!” she cried out. The other two started giggling, then dropped to their knees at the foot of David’s couch.
“Ba ta tuo xia xie!” one of them said to the other, and they began swiftly unlacing David’s cross-trainers. David was howling with laughter too much to protest.
“You little bitches, leave him alone!” Angie screamed, knowing in her heart that it would do no good.
The girl methodically tickling David’s armpits looked at the one on his stomach. “Lao wu po xi huan tan,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Dan ta xiang xiao?” the tummy-tickler asked, as she dug her fingers into David’s stomach.
“Ni fa xian,” the armpit-tickler said. Her friend shrugged, patted David’s stomach as a goodbye gesture, and strolled over to Angie’s couch. She sat down on the couch next to Angie, and began to unbutton her blouse.
“Hey!” Angie snapped. “W-what are you doing? Stop that! D-don’t take off my blouse!” The Chinese girl only smirked at Angie, and when she had the blouse all unbuttoned she spread it wide open, as much as Angie’s bonds would allow. The bare skin of Angie’s stomach and ribs was exposed, only her black lycra bra protecting her breasts.
“Ru ci cang bai,” the girl whispered in amazement, staring at Angie’s skin. She reached out to tweak Angie’s ribs, making Angie jump with a squeal. The girl giggled with delight. “Yi ge ren zhong!” She cried happily, and fell to skittering her fingertips all up and down Angie’s exposed ribs. Angie bounced up and down on the couch as she howled with laughter.
“HOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Meanwhile, the girl at David’s armpits had settled on a slow, delicate technique, using just one fingertip in each armpit and making slow, lazy circles. She hummed as she worked, driving David mad with humiliation. But all he could do was laugh.
“Oh!” one of the girls at David’s feet cried, as she pulled off his left sneaker. “Ta de jiao qi wei ke pa!” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Han shui shi ta men geng min gan,” the other one said as she removed his right sneaker. “Xian zai rang ta da kai yan jie!”
Simultaneously the two girls pulled the white cotton socks from David’s feet, exposing his bare soles. They began scampering their fingertips up and down the bare bottoms of his feet, sending waves of unbearable tickling sensation surging through his body. His laughter doubled in volume and intensity, and his feet twitched and wiggled under the ministrations of the merciless girls.
“Ta shi na me ke ai,” the girl tickling David’s left foot cooed, “ta xiao xiao shuo!”
“WAH HAH HAH HAH!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The double assault on David’s armpits and feet was driving him mad; while the fourth girl worked over Angie’s ribs with diabolic skill, wringing loud shrieks of laughter from the older woman.
“NU HAI!” a familiar female voice suddenly barked through the victims’ laughter. The girls immediately stopped tickling Angie and David and rose to their feet. Blinking through their laughter-induced tears, Angie and David saw the Mistress had returned. She glared coldly at the girls, who marched out of the room, single file, their heads downcast. When they had gone, the Mistress’ face settled into an emotionless expression.
“My apologies,” she said sweetly. “The girls are over-eager, perhaps; a failing of youth. They had not yet been given permission to play with my new toys.”
“Yet?” David repeated, before he could stop himself.
The Mistress turned a wide grin on David. “Yes, Western boy, ‘yet’. You and your aunt shall be the playthings of my young charges, soon enough. But not until I am through with you…and that happy hour is a long way off.”
“You festering ****!” Angie screamed, tugging at her bonds wildly. “If I could only get my hands on you--!”
The Mistress turned her smile to Angie now. “Ah, but you cannot, Western woman,” she purred. “But your fiery spirit disturbs me. Can it be that you have not yet learned just who is, what is your crude expression, ‘calling the shots’ here? Perhaps a lesson in humility is required.” The Mistress strolled across the dungeon floor to Angie’s couch. Angie prepared herself for another round of tickling, but to her surprise the Mistress lifted a long, shapely leg from the folds of her dressing gown, and, standing as gracefully on one leg as any flamingo, extended her foot toward Angie’s face. David was somewhat surprised to see that the Mistress was barefoot.
“Kiss the foot of your Mistress,” she demanded in a voice as smooth as silk but as strong as steel. “Show me that you know who is in control here.”
Angie stared wide-eyed at the Mistress. “Like shit I will! Kiss your foot! You ought to live so long, you yellow hag!”
The Mistress lowered her foot to the floor. “As you wish, Western woman,” she said, and sat down on the end of Angie’s couch. “Soon you will sing a different song, I think. But first….you shall laugh.”
Angie’s eyes popped as she saw the Mistress’ jet-black fingernails moving to her helpless soles. “Shit, no! Not my feet again!” Angie screamed. “Don’t you daAAAHHH!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Angie squealed with laughter as the Mistress’ nails skittered up and down her nylon-sheathed soles, sending wave after wave of ticklish sensation surging through her body. “STAAAAHAHAHAPP!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“You wish me to stop, Western woman?” the Mistress asked, not stopping the maddening crawl of her scribbling nails up and down Angie’s soles. “I think you already know how to make that happen.” Her fingernails still doing their deadly dance, the Mistress lifted her leg up onto the couch, resting her foot beside Angie’s head. “Show your Mistress her due respect, by bestowing your kiss upon her foot. In fact, because you refused the chance, now I want you to suck my toes as well. Each and every toe, with reverence and attention. Or else, the tickles on your decadent nyloned feet will not stop. The choice is yours, Western woman.”
“AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHGOD! OHGOD! OHGOD! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
David’s cheeks burned with shame as he watched the spectacle before him. He knew his aunt was a strong-willed woman; she would never break down and kiss this evil woman’s foot! Or, if she did, she would never forgive herself! And yet, he knew she wouldn’t be able to stand much more tickling on her stocking feet. Soon enough she would do anything--anything--to make it stop.
“Your Mistress is waiting, Western woman,” the Mistress said, wiggling her toes in Angie’s face as her fingernails continued to dance on her stockinged soles. Angie only continued to laugh hysterically.
“Stop it!” David shouted. “Leave her alone! I-I’ll do it!”
The Mistress suddenly stopped tickling Angie’s feet, and stared at David with wide eyes and an amused grin. “You will do what, boy?” she purred.
“I’ll suck your damn toes!” David spat. “Just leave her alone, okay?”
The Mistress stared at David in wonder. “You are a good boy to honor your aunt in this way,” she said. “Very well, I will agree to your terms.” Gracefully as a cat, the Mistress swung her leg down to the floor and raised herself upright, padding over to David’s couch.
“David, no!” Angie cried. “Don’t do it! D-don’t give her the satisfaction!”
But the Mistress ignored Angie, and settled herself at the foot of David’s couch. She glanced down at David’s bare feet appraisingly, and smiled at them. “I see the young ones have bared your feet for torment,” she said approvingly. Reaching down she flicked one fingernail across David’s bare sole; it made his foot twitch, but he made no sound. The Mistress giggled approvingly. “I can hardly wait to test their sensitivity myself. But that will come later.” The cruel torturess swung her left leg up onto the couch, planting her foot next to David’s face. “Now suck, Western boy. Like you mean it. Make your Mistress enjoy it…or it will go very hard for you.”
David could barely suppress a retch. He was by no means a foot guy; the idea of sucking this woman’s toes made him sick. But, for his aunt, he closed his eyes, and took the Mistress’ big toe in his mouth. The taste nearly made him gag; but he began to suck on it, tenderly, fighting hard not to think about what he was doing.
“Very good,” the Mistress purred. “That feels very pleasant. Perhaps it is not so revolting as you thought it would be, boy? Do not forget my other toes.”
“You stinking whore!” Angie shrieked, watching her beloved nephew humiliate himself.
The Mistress only laughed. “Oh, Western woman, you never get tired of invoking the ire of the one who controls your fate! Keep sucking, boy; when you stop, I will pay your aunt back for her words.”
David sucked each of the Mistress’ toes, one by one. He was repulsed by the fact that he found himself getting used to the taste; in fact, he began to find it not unpleasant at all. By the time he reached the smallest toe, he let his tongue swirl around the soft pad of it, trying to see if he could pay her back a little by tickling her. But his efforts were not rewarded; she did not utter a sound, nor try to pull her foot back. If anything, she moved her toe deeper into his mouth.
Finally, the Mistress pulled her foot away. “That is enough, boy,” she said. “You did quite well. I feel I should reward you. So, anxious as I am to play with these toes of yours…” and she illustrated the point by tweaking David’s big toe with her fingers, “…I will return to your aunt instead.”
David watched as the Mistress strolled back to Angie’s couch; saw his aunt’s body stiffen and tense at her approach.
“Now, what was it you called me, Western woman? Whore, was it not? And yet, I have the decency to keep my body covered. Not like you, I see.”
“Wha--why, you bitch!” Angie spat. “Your filthy girls opened my blouse! How dare y--"
“And just look here,” the Mistress said, reaching down. Angie recoiled from the touch, expecting more tickling. But, fluid as mercury, the Mistress’ hand slipped down beneath Angie’s blouse and around to the back, and with one quick movement unfastened her bra. With one quick tug the Asian torturess’ hand came away holding Angie’s bra; Angie gasped in shame to see it, realizing that her firm round breasts were now completely exposed.
“So pale,” the Mistress whispered. “Like tiny hills covered with snow. And yet…firm, and supple.” She reached down and pinched Angie’s right nipple; the sensation made Angie gasp, and burn with shame. Then the sharp points of her fingernails began to skitter all over Angie’s naked breasts, and the sensation shot through her like fire. Again she was howling with laughter.
“WAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! S-S-S-TAAAHAHAHAHAPP!!”
“Do you want me to stop, Western woman?” the Mistress said, still tickling Angie’s breasts with quick feathery grazes of her nails. “Well, perhaps I shall.” Suddenly the Mistress withdrew her fingernails. “I am tired of hearing your insults and demands, Western woman. I want to hear something else from you now. I want you to sing for me.”
Angie was still gasping for breath from the forced laughter. “Y-you…wha?” she said weakly.
“Sing,” the Mistress repeated. “You will sing for your Mistress. Any song will do; whatever your crude Western throat can produce. But you will not stop singing unless I tell you to….no matter what happens. If you do….I will take my pleasure with your nephew.”
Angie glanced at David, saw the fear on his face. She swallowed down her own rage. “All right, you--I-I mean, I’ll sing.”
The Mistress grinned. “You may begin,” she said.
Angie started singing, the first song that came to her mind. Her mind was racing, she wanted only to stop the torture; she gave no thought to what to sing. She just started singing.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” she sang, “how I wonder what you are…”
The Mistress grinned, and sank gracefully to her knees at the foot of Angie’s couch. Angie’s eyes grew wide, expecting more torment to her feet; but she knew she had to keep singing, no matter what.
“Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky…”
To her surprise, the Mistress did not start tickling her feet again. Instead her sharp nails tore the toes of her pantyhose, and her strong fingers ripped them wide open and peeled them down past her heels, baring her feet completely.
“T-Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” Angie sang, terrified of what was to come next, “how I w-wonder what you are…”
Angie almost yelped when she felt the Mistress’ fingers touch the sole of her left foot. It was the soft, fleshy pads of her fingers, not the sharp nails; but still, any touch on her soles was torture to Angie!
“I-I’m a little teapot, short and s-stout,” Angie sang in fear. “HeEEEre ih-his my handle…” The Mistress’ fingertips had begun to glide slowly up the sole of Angie’s bare foot; oh, so slowly, the touch almost a caress, but still dreadfully ticklish to Angie! “h-here is my spoHOUtt!! W-when I g-get aAHll steaHEEmed up…heHEHEHEre me sh-sh-shout…”
The Mistress grinned ferally as her fingertips continued their torturous slide up and down the sole of Angie’s foot. And still Angie fought to retain control of her song!
“TiHIHpp m-me oOHver a-and p-p-pour me ouHOWt!!” Angie cried.
“NU YA FANG!” a male voice barked into the dungeon. The Mistress stopped tickling and looked up. She said something in her own language, then rose to her feet.
“I have a surprise for my guests,” she said to Angie and David. “Remember when I left you before? That was because we had a visitor. Someone going around to shops in this neighborhood, asking if anyone had seen you. She wanted to know where you were. Well, now she has learned. Would you like to see her?”
Before either Angie or David could respond, four Chinese men in black pajama-type clothing came in, carrying a leather couch just like the ones Angie and David were restrained to. And there was someone tied to this one, as well, in the same vulnerable position as Angie and David; hands high over the head, wrists strapped down, legs spread wide and ankles similarly secured. A young woman, a little older than David but younger than Angie. A little overweight, perhaps, but what fifty years ago would have been called “curvaceous”. Light brown hair, fading back to its original color after having been dyed blonde. And a look of intense fear on her face.
“Susan!” Angie gasped. David was mute with shock. His cousin, Angie’s niece. What the fuck was she doing here?
“Isn’t it wonderful?” the Mistress asked as the men set Susan’s couch down, across from Angie and David’s so that they could stare into each other’s faces. “Now our little play group has grown; now I have another toy to play with.”
“D-David? Aunt Angie?” Susan asked, her voice trembling with fear. “Where are we? W-what’s going on?”
The Mistress watched Susan’s fear with quiet delight, as the four men who had borne her to the dungeon silently glided out the door and closed it behind them. “Why do you sound fearful, Western woman?” she asked. “You have received your wish. You wanted to see your aunt and cousin again, and here they are, before you. You have joined them. They are my playthings; and now, you are, as well.”
“Playthings?” Susan repeated, shock in her voice. “Aunt Angie, what is she talking about? What have they done to you?”
“Tell her, my playthings,” the Mistress said. “Tell her what I have done to you…and what I will do to her.”
“Susan,” David said, “this--this woman has been tickling us! Mercilessly!”
Susan gasped in shock. “Tickling you?” Disbelief was clear in the tone of her words.
“Oh God, yes!” Angie cried out. “I know it doesn’t sound so bad, but believe me, it’s torture! Tied down like this, unable to move, to get away--! And it doesn’t stop! She keeps tickling and tickling, and--"
“That is enough,” the Mistress said. “There is no need for further explanations. It is time for our new guest to learn for herself.” And with that, the Mistress began striding slowly across the dungeon floor towards Susan. As she approached, Susan’s body tensed all over, and she vainly tried to edge away from the Mistress, bound helplessly as she was.
“NO!” Susan screamed. “D-don’t you touch me! I-I warn you! DON’T!” But her screams only made the Mistress smile a little wider. The talented fingers extended towards Susan’s helpless body; the sharp, lacquered fingernails touched either side of Susan’s rib cage, and even through the thin silk of her blouse, Susan felt their touch like ten tiny electric shocks. Slowly, the nails began to drag up and down the sides of Susan’s body, sending their tormenting waves of sensation pulsing through her. Not believing her situation, Susan tried not to laugh. But it was no use; she was unbelievably ticklish, all over (as David and Angie knew well, from childhood games where the aunt would hold her down while her cousin tickled her all over!), and in a very short time, the laughter burst from her lips.
"FFWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" Susan shrieked with laughter, as the Mistress' sharp nails glided and skittered up and down her sides, barely touching her at all but every touch sending lightning surges of unbearable sensation shooting through her whole nervous system. The thin silk blouse did nothing to shield Susan from the sensations; indeed, if anything, it multiplied them. Susan threw back her head, as much as her bound position allowed, and howled with laughter; her entire zoftig form quivered and shook with spasms of laughter. Angie and David only watched, in fear and sympathy, as their beloved relative suffered the tortures of the Mistress.
"AHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Susan screamed as the fingernails continued their dance up and down her sides, unrelenting. The Mistress grinned evilly at her new captive, enjoying every moment of her torment.
"Such prizes that continue to fall into my lap today," the Mistress purred. "I did not think anyone could be more ticklish than my other new playthings, but you, little Western girl, seem to be most ticklish of all!" The Mistress continued to tickle Susan's sides for a few more minutes, and then stopped, sitting back to observe her new toy. Susan continued to giggle and squeal a few moments, her tortured brain unaware that the tickling had stopped, and then her giggles subsided into gulps for air. Sweat ran down her face, and dark tears, stained by her smoky-gray eye shadow. Her breasts rose and fell like a bellows as she gasped in precious air; even the stale air of this dungeon was delicious to her tortured, laughter-exhausted lungs.
"You wish the torture to stop, do you not, Western girl?" the Mistress asked. Susan could barely lift her head, the ordeal had tired her out so. "But it will not. I am fascinated with my new toy, and I wish to play with you more." Susan's eyes went wide with terror, and she inched back as much as she could in the bondage, recoiling from this cruel woman. "I intend to explore every inch of your soft, decadent body, to find the places where my tickles cause you the most suffering, which spots bring me the most delight from your reactions. However, I will be kind, for now. I will allow you to choose the next spot that I tickle. I know you will choose a spot where you believe yourself to be the least ticklish; perhaps you do not even think you are ticklish at all, in that spot. But the Mistress can make you laugh, wherever you choose; I promise you that. Now, choose, my plaything; choose where I tickle you next."
Susan's head spun with the Mistress' challenge. Angie had been right; the ceaseless tickling was unbearable! She had to pick a spot where she wasn't very ticklish; but where? Every spot on her body that she could think of, was awfully sensitive. Not my feet, she thought; whatever she does, I have to keep her away from my feet! But Susan's stomach, armpits, and thighs weren't much less sensitive. Think, think!!
"Choose, Western girl," the Mistress cooed, "or I shall choose for you. And I noticed how your oversized feet trembled when I spoke of tickling you."
Susan whimpered in fear. Oh, God, where?? "My knees," she blurted out. "T-tickle my knees!"
The Mistress' eyebrows raised a little. "Your knees, Western girl? An interesting choice. I shall enjoy seeing your reactions as I tickle your knees. But first..." the Mistress reached out and lightly ran her fingertips along Susan's leg; even though she could barely feel it, through her denim jeans, Susan trembled at the touch, remembering what those fingernails could do. "..we must divest you of this protective garment. Even my skilled fingers could not produce such devastating reactions, through this coarse material." Susan watched in fear as the Mistress bent slightly, and her long, tapery fingers swiftly and skillfully undid the fastening of Susan's jeans.
"Leave her alone!" David blurted out as he watched the Oriental torturess undoing his cousin's pants. "You sick bitch, don't take off her jeans!"
"Patience, boy," the Mistress cooed, without pausing or even turning her head. "Your turn will come again....soon. But for now, I wish to play with my new toy." The Mistress pulled Susan's jeans down as far as they would go. It was not very far, with her legs spread as they were; but it was sufficient to bare her kneecaps. Susan tried to keep her lips clamped shut, but a tiny squeak of terror escaped them as she felt her legs bared to the knee.
"Such unsightly skin," the Mistress said disapprovingly. "The color of beetle grubs. Ugly, compared to the pure golden color of my own flawless skin. But I am not interested in your attractiveness, my plaything....only in your sensitivity." And with that, the Mistress lowered her fingers to Susan's kneecaps. Stretched tight on the leather couch, Susan was unable to move her legs or bend her knees, to avoid the Mistress' nails for even a moment. From the instant the sharp instruments of torture touched Susan's kneecaps, she was lost in hysteria, laughter burbling from her throat like a fountain.
"OOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!!" Susan howled as the talented fingernails lightly swept and scratched across her kneecaps. "OOOOOOOOH!! OOOH, HOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOO!!" The Mistress glided her nails across Susan's kneecaps, sweeping in circles and zig-zags and wild, random patterns. Every touch, every stroke was a brand of fire to Susan's helpless nerves, sending burst after burst of laughter pouring from her throat. The only thing worse than the fingernails across her kneecaps was when the Mistress allowed her nails to slip under Susan's knees and tickle the sensitive, seldom-touched skin at the backs of her knees; that sent a jolt of sudden, overwhelming ticklishness surging through her, and it was all the worse because Susan could never predict when the next back-of-the-knee tickle was coming. The Mistress grinned at Susan's torment, pearly white teeth gleaming in the half-light of the dungeon.
Angie fought back the urge to cry out, to demand that this evil bitch leave her niece alone. She knew that the Mistress delighted in such expressions, in knowing the pain that her ministrations was causing her victims; because she knew that such outcries would not help Susan anyway, Angie was determined not to give the Mistress the satisfaction. David, however, was less introspective of the situation, or perhaps just more outraged. He did not hold back.
"STOP IT!" he screamed. "Can't you see you're killing her? For God's sake, stop it!!"
The Mistress did stop, and turned to stare at David with the expression of a cat who has found a wounded sparrow. "Killing her, boy? Nonsense. She will not die. Your stupid Western expression, 'tickled to death', is merely that: a stupid expression. She will live...as long as I want her to."
"I didn't mean it literally!" David spat. "But she can't stand any more! Give her a break, at least!"
"A break?" the Mistress repeated. "And how shall I amuse myself, while I give her this break? By turning my attentions to you, perhaps?"
David scowled at her. "Why not? You'll do it, sooner or later, anyway!"
The Mistress laughed, a short, mirthless laugh. "Why, little Western boy, I think perhaps you begin to enjoy being tickled. Very well. It has not been your turn for awhile. And I have not yet had a chance with your feet. So large...so much sensitive skin."
“Oh God, David, thank you,” Susan gasped through her desperate gulps for air, as the Mistress turned away from her. “Thank you so much!”
“Be strong, Susan,” Angie encouraged. “W-we’ll get out of here! I promise!”
“Do not make promises you cannot keep, my plaything,” the Mistress said, without even turning her head to look at Angie, as she slowly sank to her knees on the silken cushion in front of David’s feet. Involuntarily, David’s toes curled in anticipation of what was to come. The Mistress smiled at his fear, and slowly, oh so slowly!, ran a single index fingernail up the center of David’s foot, taking a torturously long time to travel from heel to toes. David’s foot trembled under the delicate but devastating assault. He clamped his jaws tightly shut, trying not to give the evil woman the satisfaction of laughing. But the Mistress knew it was only a matter of time, and decided to prolong her game. Placing the sharpened tips of only her index fingernails on the bottoms of David’s feet, one on each sole, she slowly glided the instruments of torture up and down his feet. Slowly the nails stroked the skin of David’s soles, up and down, up and down, never varying from their path the slightest millimeter to left or right. David’s toes fanned out under this delicate assault, and his upper body trembled. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought down the laughter. But somehow, this slow, gentle stroking was even worse than the all-out furious assault of earlier. The tickling sensation, rather than overwhelming him outright, crept over him slowly but relentlessly, like a legion of ants crawling along his nervous system, leaving tiny electric shocks wherever they went.
“My little plaything tries to show his strength,” the Mistress cooed as her index fingers continued to stroke up and down the bottoms of David’s feet. “But no matter how strongly you resist, Western boy, sooner or later you will crumble. Why not give in now, and spare yourself further torment? I may become bored with you sooner, if you break down and laugh now. Come now, laugh for your Mistress. You know you want to. It takes so much will to resist the laughter, and it would be so much easier to give in. To let the happy sounds pour forth from your throat. Do not deny it, Western boy, you want to laugh. And your Mistress wants to hear you laugh. So….laugh.” On the last word, the Mistress allowed her index fingernails to slip between the second and third toes of David’s feet, where they had not traveled before, at least not in this torture session. The sudden sensation to the hitherto-untouched area was like a live wire touched to David’s ticklish nerves; all at once the laughter burst from him.
“FFWAAAH-HA-HA-HA!!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
“Such a good little toy,” the Mistress cooed, sawing her long fingernails in and out between all of David’s toes. “How enthusiastically you obey your Mistress’ command to laugh. I admit that I begin to enjoy the sound of your robust Western laughter, crude and unmusical though it is. Perhaps it is that very quality, the difference from the refined, mellifluous laughter of my fellow Celestials, that lends enjoyment to me.” The Mistress began to toy with the pads of David’s toes, drawing little circles on the pads of each one with the tips of her index fingernails. David’s head thrashed from side to side on the leather couch as laughter wracked his tortured body. His toes wiggled and flailed in a desperate attempt to escape the Mistress’ nails.
Angie turned her head away, and allowed tears to flow down her face. When David was a boy, she had played tickle games with his feet and toes many times; to see this cruel woman doing it, and the obvious pain it caused him, made her sick inside.
Finally, the Mistress rose to her feet. “I find the reactions you give to having your toes tickled most pleasing, Western boy,” she announced. “But the straps restrain your ankles only. They do not keep your toes still, so that I might torture them more effectively. I shall leave you now, but I shall return with soft, silken thread to tie your toes back, to keep them still while I tickle them. Perhaps I shall bring a calligraphy brush, as well, to see whether it is more effective on your toes than my own fingernails. Do not fret, laughing boy, I shall not be long.” With that, the Mistress crossed the cell, and left. As soon as the door was shut, Susan burst into sobs.
“W-what are we going to do?” she wailed. “Nobody knows where we are!! H-how can we escape? How--"
“Ssh!” David hushed her urgently, and continued in a whisper. “When that bitch was tickling my toes--God, I hate that! --I was pulling at the straps for all I was worth. And I think I felt the one holding my right wrist give a bit!”
“Oh God, David!” Angie whispered excitedly. “D-do you think you can get free?”
David’s young muscles strained at the strap, concentrating all his power into his right arm. “I’m--sure--as shit--gonna try!” he grunted. The young man pulled as hard as he could. Angie and Susan watched, attention riveted on his right wrist. The muscles in David’s arm stood out, like powerful cables just beneath his skin. He kept up the pressure for long, long minutes….and finally, in the silence of the small room, the captives heard a barely-audible rip. Angie gasped. Susan cried out in joy.
“Oh my God,” Susan cried, “you did it! You--"
“Ssh!” Angie hissed. “Not so loud! We’re not out of this yet!”
“No…not yet,” David agreed, panting with exhaustion, as he tugged and tugged at the ripped strap, feeling it give a little more with every tug. Finally, his right hand pulled down, free of the restraining strap. He felt needle-like tingling in his fingertips as the blood rushed back to them; but instantly his hand was at his left wrist, trying to undo that strap. “Hurry, David!” Susan urged. But his fingers were numb from so long held above his head, numb and clumsy. He desperately tried to free his left wrist…
“What occurs?!” the Mistress’ voice barked into the room, in a commanding tone. Three heads whirled in the direction of the doorway. The Mistress stood there, staring into the cell, eyes wide with blazing hatred. Before any of the captives had a chance to reply, the Mistress turned to the still-open doorway and called out, “Jing wei!” In seconds, three muscular, strong-looking Chinese men appeared in the doorway, their faces devoid of emotion. The Mistress merely pointed at David, and his free wrist.
“Since you do not find the leather straps an accommodating furnishing, Western boy,” the Mistress purred, her superior tones of one in perfect control now back, “we shall find you something perhaps more to your liking.” Two of the guards left the cell then, leaving one behind who stood very close to David’s couch, staring intently at him. The Mistress returned her attention to Angie and Susan. “Do not worry, my ugly Western playthings,” she said, “I will make certain that you are not bored while we wait.” She turned back to the guard. “Pàngzi de jiao chìluo,” she ordered. The guard strode quickly to Susan’s couch and dropped to his knees. With quick motions of his hands and fingers he removed her leather moccasins and cotton socks, leaving her feet bare. He then returned to his post watching over David. The Mistress grinned wickedly at Susan, who cowered in stark terror. She knew that her feet were to be tickled next, and she had never been able to stand that!
Angie was not watching Susan’s predicament; her eyes were intent on her nephew, David. The other two guards had returned, pushing a large wooden contraption between them. It looked like a huge letter “X” made of two thick wooden beams, supported by a metal bar going through it at the intersection of the beams and this attached to wooden support posts at either end of the bar. At the ends of each of the wooden beams was an upright wooden board with a small hole in the center. The guards flipped these open with a touch, and they split in half on hinges on one side. Angie realized that they were wooden stocks for restraining the wrists and ankles. No matter how David pulled and tugged, there would be no escape from these restraints!
“NO!” Susan’s shrill cry snapped Angie’s head back around to her. The Mistress was grinning wolfishly as she sank to her knees on the soft cushion in front of Susan’s helpless feet. “No, not my feet, please!” Susan begged. “I-I can’t stand that! Please, no!!”
“Don’t bother, Susan,” Angie called out to her. “The bitch has no mercy, and our begging only increases her pleasure! Don’t give her the satisfaction!’
But if Susan heard her aunt, her fear overrode her logic. As the Mistress held up her hands, fingers crooked into claws and highly lacquered nails glittering in the dim light, Susan could only whimper and beg shamelessly as the Oriental torturess slowly, oh so slowly, moved those talented fingers closer and closer to her newest victim’s bare soles. Angie tore her face away, and watched what was happening to David.
The guards had taken David off the leather couch, unfastening his straps; one held a short-bladed dagger, blade gleaming clean and sharp even in the dim light, at David’s neck throughout the entire operation to ensure his cooperation. The other two had forced his back against the X-frame and his arms and legs spread wide along the beams. Then they had locked his wrists and ankles into the stocks. Angie saw them move the wrist-stocks a couple of inches down the beams, to reach David’s wrists; she had wondered what had happened when a particular victim was the wrong height for the stocks, and was impressed in spite of herself to see that they were adjustable.
“Nánhái zhǔnbèi jiùxù,” one of the guards called, when David was secured to the X-frame. Susan was watching the Mistress’ slowly-descending claws in mounting horror, her eyes wide as dinner plates and her lower lip trembling, unable to tear her eyes away from them as they moved closer and closer to her feet.
“Bùjiǔ wǒ jiāng cānjiā tā,” the Mistress said, without turning her head away from Susan’s nervously-trembling feet. “Shānchú tā de yīfú, ér wǒ bànyǎn de chǒulòu de jiǎo.” And with that, her claws finally touched Susan’s soles, lightly grazing the bottoms of her heels. Even that light touch was too much for Susan’s ultra-ticklish feet; she let out a shriek the instant the Mistress’ nails touched her heels. The Mistress grinned in wicked delight as she slowly whisked her nails up the bottoms of Susan’s feet, all five nails on each sole, leaving barely a centimeter of flesh unstroked. Susan howled with laughter, her toes fanned out reflexively, as the awful tickling sensation surged through her.
“AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO! NO! NOAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
As the Mistress explored the ticklishness of Susan’s helpless feet, the guards began removing David’s clothing. “Hey, wait a minute!” David cried out in shock and rage as they slit his shirt with their daggers, plucking the shreds of fabric from his now-naked torso. “Don’t do that! You miserable fuckers, cut it out! HEY! NOT MY PANTS!” But David’s entreaties fell on deaf ears as his trousers suffered the same fate as his shirt, reduced to rags by the Asian daggers and ripped from his skin by unrelenting fingers. In moments, he hung there on the X-frame, the bottoms of his feet hovering inches above the floor of the dungeon, in nothing but his white cotton boxer shorts.
“Nánhái zhǐ chuānzhuó tā de xià de dōngxi, qíngfù,” one of the guards said in his guttural growl.
“Nǐ kěyǐ zǒuliǎo,” the Mistress responded, not taking her eyes off of Susan’s spasmodically-twitching feet as she glided her fingernails up and down the helpless woman’s arches. The guards nodded, and left the dungeon cell, closing the heavy door behind them. David struggled on the X-frame. His arms and legs had been stretched to piano-wire tautness by the stocks, and he had very little give. He tugged with all his might, but the firm wood did not budge in the slightest.
“AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHGOD! OHGOD! OHGOD! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Susan shrieked, as the Mistress began to toy with that seldom-touched area just at the base of the toes. With the fingers of her left hand she pried the toes of Susan’s left foot back, and the very tips of her right fingernails danced back and forth across that soft, tender skin, like hyperactive insects scurrying to and fro across Susan’s ultra-ticklish flesh. The Mistress enjoyed Susan’s torment for a few more minutes, then quickly and unceremoniously released her foot. It flopped out of her grasp like a marionette whose strings had been suddenly cut. Susan gasped, gulping in air to her tortured lungs. Her face was flushed bright red and streaked dark by her mascara-tinted sweat and tears. She turned her head as far to one side as she could, pressed her face against her own shoulder, and wept.
“And now, Western boy,” the Mistress purred, rising to her full height and strolling languidly toward him, “it is time to show you the penalty for attempting to escape my caresses.” The Mistress was silent for a moment, her gaze traveling up and down David’s nearly-naked body. “I did not notice your musculature beneath your heavy Western clothes, boy,” she cooed. “Perhaps I was hasty in my previous judgment. Perhaps you are not so ugly as I thought.” The Mistress reached out her right hand, and slowly ran the very tip of her index fingernail down David’s right side, from just below his armpit to just above the waistband of his boxer shorts. David flinched from the touch, but managed to hold in any sounds it elicited. The Mistress only grinned at his resistance. “Trying to deny your Mistress the sound of your laughter, eh? We shall see about that.” The Mistress placed her hands on either side of David’s torso, just the tips of her fingernails touching the skin, and began slowly moving them up and down his body, all the while drumming and wiggling her fingers so that the motions of the nail tips across the skin was a constant barrage of ticklish jolts. David felt goose bumps pop out all over his skin. He bit his lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep the laughter inside. But it was no use; in almost no time at all, the forced mirth burst from his lips.
“FFWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“That is better,” the Mistress purred as she continued the assault on David’s sides. “You do know how to please your Mistress, Western boy…with your laughter.” With that, the Mistress’ fingernails glided into David’s armpits and began a slow, torturous assault there, making lazy circles of skittering fingernails around and around the hairy hollows. With his arms stretched high over his head, the skin of David’s armpits was taught as the skin of a drum, and his nerves were obedient playthings in the Mistress’ hands. His laughter turned to shrieks of hysteria, and his head flopped backwards, between the upper bars of the X-frame, as the laughter poured from his throat.
“HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH GAH-HA-HAAAAAAD, MAKE IT STAH-HAH-HAPP!!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”
Angie fought down an urge to cry out, to demand that this evil bitch stop tickling her beloved nephew. But she did not bother; she knew that it would only spur the wicked Mistress on to greater, more humiliating actions. At least David’s shorts were still on….but how long would that last?? Angie glanced over at Susan, bound on her own couch; she still lay whimpering, head buried in the side of her arm. She was furiously rubbing her feet against each other, first scouring the sole of one foot with the instep of the other and then reversing their positions, as if trying to scourge the memory of the Mistress’ tickles from them.
“You laugh so well for your Mistress, Western boy,” the Mistress purred. “But I have not forgotten that special spot which makes you laugh all the more.” With that, the Mistress twisted a knob on the side of the X-frame, and then grasped the upper beam of the X closest to her. At her slightest manipulation, the frame tilted backwards, until it was parallel to the floor. David lay inescapably restrained on the X, staring up at the ceiling…and the soles of his feet facing the cruel Mistress. Another twist of the knob and the frame was locked back into place. David felt his heart sink as the Mistress stepped around to his helpless feet.
“Such handsome feet, for a Westerner,” she cooed, running her index fingertip along his left arch; just the soft pad of her fingertip this time, not her nail, almost caressing. “And so responsive to their Mistress’ touch. Laugh for me again, Western boy. Laugh long and loud for me.” And the Mistress began rapidly scribbling her fingernails all over the bottoms of David’s feet, fast and furious, each tiny scrape and scratch like an electric jolt. David shrieked with helpless laughter.
“EEEHHEEEEHEEEEEHEEEEEHEEEEK!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
David’s feet twitched and flailed helplessly, jerking spasmodically with every touch of the Mistress’ nails. The sensations surging through his body from his feet were unbearable, were the worst torture he could imagine. But there was nothing he could do to stop it, not even to alleviate it for a moment. He was truly this cruel woman’s plaything, for as long as she chose to keep him so.
“Oh, look at my little plaything,” the Mistress purred. “Western woman, do you see your nephew? It seems as though he is beginning to enjoy my attentions to him. Is that not right, Western boy? Do not bother to deny it; the evidence is here for all of us to see.” The Mistress had not stopped tickling David’s feet throughout her speech, so all that he could do by way of response is howl with laughter. Angie looked over at her suffering nephew, wondering what this insane bitch was talking about. And then she saw it. A huge tent-pole in David’s boxer shorts! Being tickled by this woman had actually given him an erection! Angie tore her face away from the sight. She tried to tell herself that David had no control over this; that tickling was not actually painful, was in fact pleasure carried to unbearable extremes, and this was just a reaction of his body. There was no way he could actually be enjoying this. And yet, the shame of it all brought a tear to Angie’s eye.
“Leave him alone,” Angie cried out, unable to hold back anymore. “Leave him alone, do you hear me!!”
“I hear,” the Mistress replied. “Are you volunteering for more of my ministrations, Western woman? It has been awhile since you have felt my caresses. Are you so anxious for more?”
“Fine, if you leave David alone!” Angie spat. “Tickle me all you want, but he needs a rest, don’t you see?”
“As you wish,” the Mistress said, stopping her tickling of David’s feet. She actually began caressing his feet, rubbing the soles lightly with the palms of her hands, as if trying to calm them down after the frenzied attack on their nervous system. “I grow a bit bored with your nephew anyway. It is time to play with you some more…and see how you react.” Giving David’s big toe a final tweak with her fingers, the Mistress strolled slowly toward Angie. The older woman shivered as a chill of fear ran through her, and the sweat on her skin suddenly felt very cold. In her shame and anger over David’s near-nakedness and humiliation, she had actually forgotten that her own breasts were bare, and vulnerable to the Mistress’ attack! She had never realized how ticklish her breasts were, but when the Mistress had tickled them with her fingernails, she had almost died! She actually hoped that the Mistress would tickle her feet, instead!
The cruel Asian torturess stood in front of Angie, grinning wickedly, and produced a tiny calligraphy paintbrush from somewhere within the folds of her garment. “I had planned to use this on your nephew’s adorable toes,” she purred. “But, as you prefer to volunteer yourself…” The Mistress held the instrument between her fingers expertly, and Angie watched in horror as it descended slowly, oh so slowly…the soft bristles moving unerringly toward her left nipple!
“O-Oh no!!” Angie writhed backwards as much as she can, in a futile effort to keep her breasts away from the bristles. “Not that!! No, please, not my breasts!! NoOOH!! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie burst into frenzied laughter as the soft bristles began a slow, torturous circuit around the rim of her dark aureole. The feather-light touch sent unbearable shocks of ticklishness surging through her body. She was powerless to resist its touch.
The Mistress smiled her tiger’s cruel smile. “I have learned that your hideously large Western breasts are a sensitive spot,” she purred, as she continued to circle Angie’s aureoles with the brush, first one, then the other. “Sooo ticklish. And the brush is a delightful weapon to use upon them; so soft and feathery light, yet when skillfully manipulated….unbearable.” The Mistress switched to the undersides of Angie’s breasts, flickering the bristles of the brush lightly and rapidly over them.
“HOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie howled as the brush worked on her awfully sensitive breasts. This was torture, unimaginable torture! And yet…shameful as it was, she could feel her nipples stiffening from the feathery assault…feel an undeniable moist warmth building between her legs…
“Do you wish me to stop, Western woman?” The Mistress cooed, as the brush swirled over the underside of her left breast. “This tickles oh, so much, does it not? You would like it to stop, wouldn’t you?”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! YES, YEH-HEH-HESS!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie couldn’t deny it.
“Perhaps I will allow you to…earn a respite,” the Mistress said, flickering the bristles across the tops of Angie’s breasts. “You would do anything to make it stop, even for a little while, would you not?”
Angie did not answer. Then, the Mistress began rapidly flickering the bristles over the tips of Angie’s erect nipples. That was the most intense sensation Angie had yet felt in this dungeon of ticklish horrors! It was like a red-hot brand touched to her raw nerve ending; but it did not elicit pain, but a tickle more intense than any pain she had ever felt.
“AAAH!! STOP!! STAH-HAH-HAP!!”
“You will do as I command?” the Mistress asked, flickering Angie’s other nipple.
“ANYTHING, ANYTHIH-HIH-HING!!” Angie cried, as her whole body was wracked with the tickling sensations. To her shame and horror, she felt the moist warmth growing hotter between her legs.
“Very well,” the Mistress said, and withdrew the brush. Angie gasped, gulping in air as her body shook with convulsions, unable to process the ultra-intense tickles and their sudden stoppage. She blinked tears from her eyes, but when her vision cleared, she found herself staring at the smooth sole of a small, shapely, bare foot, mere inches from her face. She looked up and saw the Mistress sitting atop the back of the couch, smiling wolfishly down at her.
“Your nephew earned a respite by sucking my toes,” she purred. “Let us see if you are as skilled at this as he proved to be.”
Angie fought the urge to gag. She could not stand the thought of putting this horrible woman’s toes in her mouth! But anything was better than that torturous brush on her nipples! Wasn’t it? Well, she would soon find out. Taking a deep breath and squeezing her eyes shut, Angie gingerly took the Mistress’ big toe between her lips. It was salty, tangy to the taste. Trying to forget what she was doing, Angie sucked on it, gently, like a cough drop. The Mistress wiggled her other toes, and Angie shuddered as she felt them brush against her lips.
“Not so bad, at first,” the Mistress said approvingly. “Your nephew improved as he progressed. I expect you will, also. After all, I still have the brush to convince you.” Angie felt something soft and smooth gently brush over the tip of her still-erect left nipple, and jerked convulsively with the touch; she realized it must have been the bare toe of the Mistress’ other foot. She continued to suck on the woman’s big toe, crying inside at the shame and humiliation.
“Do not forget my other toes, Western woman,” the Mistress cooed. “They long for your tender attentions as well. Come, suck your Mistress’ pretty toes!”
One by one, Angie took the Mistress’ toes into her mouth and sucked on them. Tears ran down her face as she did; this was the most humiliating thing she had ever been forced to do! But what alternative did she have?
“Very good,” the Mistress said, as Angie’s lips slid over her smallest toe. “Now kiss the bottom of my foot. All over. Cover my golden sole with your passionate kisses, Western woman! Kiss my foot like it was the face of your lover!”
Angie could not hold back the tears now. She cried audibly as she planted kiss after kiss on the sole of her torturer’s foot. Each touch of her lips to the woman’s foot was a lash of humiliation, a stab to her dignity. Whatever was left of it.
“Very well, Western woman,” the Mistress said, gently stroking Angie’s stomach with the tips of her toes. “You have earned a respite from my tickling touches. Now, whose turn is it? Oh yes, I was administering to your nephew before, was I not? That means….”
Susan whimpered in fear as the Mistress’ evilly-grinning face slowly turned to her.
In
“CHINESE TAKE-DOWN!”
“My God, David, look at these things!” Angie laughed as they stopped at a table piled high with gaudy jewelry. Angie and her nephew were walking through their home city’s Chinatown, wandering through an outdoor marketplace; it was a warm fall day and they had no plans, and Angie had suggested this as something different. David, always eager to spend time with his favorite relative, had agreed.
“What do you think, hon, are they me?” Angie lifted a pair of large pagoda earrings, each about the size of a small doorknob, and held them up to her ears. The gold metal glinted against Angie’s long blonde hair as she grinned toothily. David smiled at the sight; even though she was but a few years away from the half-century mark, his aunt was more full of fun and joi de vivre than anyone else he had ever met. And she kept her tall, lithe body so trim and tanned, it was easy to forget her age.
“I don’t think they’re anybody, Angie,” David grinned. He never called her “Aunt”; she once teased him that it made her feel old. He thought of her more like a big sister.
“You’re right,” Angie said, putting the earrings back and making a disgusted face. “I can’t imagine anyone wearing those things! Except maybe to pick up satellite TV transmissions!” Angie and David laughed at her joke; they failed to notice the frown of disapproval on the face of the Chinese woman behind the table.
“Oh, and look at this!” Angie said, moving to another table where leather purses and wallets were sold. She picked one up and held it up for David’s inspection. “Genuine Gucci, do you think?”
“Oh, sure,” David joked. “If by ‘genuine’ you mean ‘cheap knock-off’.”
“Hell yes,” Angie giggled. “Probably made by four-year-olds in an overturned dumpster!” Angie tossed the purse back onto the table, dislodging several others in the display. The middle-aged Chinese man behind the table scowled angrily at her.
“They should make a reality show of this,” Angie giggled, moving from table to table making rude comments about the merchandise. “Call it Cheap Shit Roadshow, or something.”
“Or maybe Project Junkway!” David suggested.
Angie broke up laughing at that. “Perfect! Call the Bravo channel; they’ll make anything into a show!”
The aunt and nephew walked along, laughing loudly at their jokes, oblivious to the dark doorway they were about to walk past….until they felt strong hands clamp themselves over their arms and mouths, felt themselves yanked off their feet…
* * * * *
“What the fuck is going on here?!” Angie screamed at the top of her lungs. “You sick fuckers had better let us out right now! Hello? Can anybody hear me?!?”
“You shitheads are in so much trouble!” David shouted. “You’re gonna rot in prison for this! And then I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you! You hear me?!?”
Angie and David had been screaming like that for half an hour now. Before they had known what was happening, they had been pulled through the door into darkness, unable to see anything in front of them, hands always kept over their mouths to prevent them from speaking. They felt themselves being forced down a long flight of stairs, that winded several times; they had no idea how far below street level they had gone. They had been forced down, on their backs, onto some kind of padded furniture; their ankles had been strapped down, with their legs spread wide apart, and their hands forced high over their heads and their wrists strapped down tightly. Then they had been left alone together, in darkness, where they had shouted their heads off demanding release, promising vengeance, threatening all sorts of retribution. There had been no answer.
Finally, Angie grew silent; perhaps only resting her throat in preparation of another screaming session. David grew quiet too.
“Angie?” he asked her.
“I’m here, honey,” Angie replied.
“What do you think’s going to happen to us? I mean, why did they bring us down here?”
“How the fuck do I know?” Angie asked. “Maybe they’re white slavers, or something. Well, whatever they want with us, they’re not going to get away with it!”
“Such defiance,” came a new voice, a low, sultry, feminine voice, with an unmistakable Chinese accent to it. The new voice took the captives by surprise.
“Shit!” Angie cried out in shock.
“Who’s there?” David demanded.
In response, David heard the sound of a match being struck, saw a tiny flame burst in the darkness. After so long without any light at all, the little match seemed like a miniature sun. It was touched to the wicks of ten tall white candles, one by one, and soon the room filled with a soft, warm glow. David and Angie beheld a beautiful Chinese woman, wearing a dressing gown of flowing green silk with a Chinese dragon embroidered on it in golden thread. The woman’s jet-black hair was pinned up on top of her head in classic Chinese style; her fingernails were long, manicured to sharp points, and painted a glossy black. She was smiling at them, a hungry, wolfish smile; the leer of a predator facing helpless prey. The small boy in black Chinese pajamas who had lit the candles bowed to the woman and shuffled backwards out of the room.
“Welcome to your new home,” the woman smiled at them. “My name would cause your poor Western tongues much difficulty. You may simply call me Mistress.”
“The fuck I will!” David spat.
“Who are you?” Angie demanded. “Why were we brought here? We demand to—"
“You,” the Mistress cut Angie off, “are in no position to demand anything. You spent this day mocking the hard-working people of this community, belittling their wares, making a joke of our way of life. Well, now the tables are turned, are they not? Now, you will provide amusement for us.”
“You sick little bitch!” Angie hissed. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do with us, but I promise you—“
“Not that there was nothing in your crude display that I did not find pleasing,” the Mistress went on. “I did enjoy the sound of your laughter. Very musical, for a crude Western laugh. I would like to hear more of it.”
Angie snorted derisively. “Well, there isn’t much in this place to make me laugh, you festering ****!”
“We shall see,” the Mistress promised with a smile. She strode forward, towards Angie’s leather couch. Angie’s eyes grew wide at her approach, but she tried hard not to betray any fear. When the Mistress leaned down toward her prone form, though, the terror began to show through.
“W-what are you doing?” Angie demanded. “You s-stay away from me!” The Mistress held up her well-manicured hands, her fingers becoming undulating claws as they moved closer to Angie’s helpless form. “D-don’t you touch me! What are you—NO!” Angie screamed as she guessed the Mistress’ intent. “DON’T YOU DARE! NoOOOH!! OOOOOH!! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie’s screams turned into shrieks of laughter as the Mistress’ sharp fingernails began to gently stroke the tender skin of her armpits. Angie’s arms had been bound above her head in such a way that her armpits were stretched taut, tight as drumskins; the Mistress’ nails lightly grazed them, barely touching them at all, but it was enough to send surges of tickling sensation shooting through her helpless body like lightning. Angie cursed the warm day and her choice to wear a sleeveless top, as the cruel torturess manipulated her bare armpits to maximum effect!
“WAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie shrieked and screamed with laughter, writhing and twisting as much as her bonds allowed. The Mistress grinned with delight as her fingernails flew over Angie’s bare armpits. She was clearly enjoying her task. David watched with fascinated horror. He had seen his aunt tickled a few times before; had even done it once himself, when she had asked him for a back rub after a vigorous game of volleyball. He knew how ticklish she was, how this must be torture for her! And deep down, he knew—he was likely to be next!
“Such pretty laughter,” the Mistress teased as her fingernails gently scraped and stroked the tender skin of Angie’s armpits. “You are like a musical instrument, and your nerve endings are strings for my talented fingers to pluck. Make more music for me, crude Western woman. Laugh for your Mistress.”
“AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie was full of defiant words for her torturess, but could speak none of them; she was laughing so hard she could not catch the breath to make words. David watched the Mistress’ face, saw the cruel smile on it as she looked down at his aunt’s ticklish agony. The bitch was loving every second of this.
“Leave her alone!” David demanded. “You stinking bitch, stop tickling her!”
The Mistress glanced up, a look of feigned surprise on her face; yet her fingernails never stopped their dance in Angie’s armpits. “So, little Western boy thinks he can give his Mistress orders?” she cooed in her singsong voice. “Do you really want me to stop tickling your aunt, Western boy? Because if I do….I will tickle you.”
David tried to suppress a shudder. He was dreadfully ticklish, and he saw what those long nails could do. But he mustered up his courage. “Go ahead, ****! You think I’m afraid of a little koochie-koo? Fuck off!”
The Mistress grinned, the cruel smile of a predator coming upon a wounded bird. She lifted her hands from Angie’s armpits, and began to slowly stroll over to David’s couch. David involuntarily flinched at her approach, then silently cursed himself for it. Angie just lay on the couch, gasping for breath, gulping in the stale air of the torture chamber as though it were sweet mountain breezes.
“Brave boy,” the Mistress observed. “You must really love your aunt. Your Mistress can respect that; family honor is important to my people. But it will not spare you from my claws.” With that the Mistress lowered her fingernails to David’s waist, one hand on either side of his belly, and began to flutter her fingers like the wings of a butterfly. Her sharp nails grazed David’s waist through his thin T-shirt, sending jolts of electric sensation surging through him. David clamped his jaws tight, determined not to give this bitch the satisfaction of laughing; but the Mistress only giggled at his resolve, enjoying the challenge of breaking him.
“Don’t be shy, little boy,” the Mistress cooed, as she began to slowly move her fluttering fingernails up David’s sides. “Let the laughter out. Let your Mistress hear you laugh.” The expert torturess’ fingernails struck every rib, and every space between ribs, stimulating David’s nerves with surgical accuracy. He felt the laughter hammering at the back of his throat, demanding to burst free. “What is that silly little saying you Westerners have at times like this? Oh, yes. Coochie…coochie…cooo….” That did it; the laughter burst from David’s throat in a sudden explosion of volcanic proportions.
“WAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! SHIIIIIITT!!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“David!” Angie cried, watching her nephew’s agony. She knew first hand how ticklish he was; she had always enjoyed tickling her precious nephew, ever since he was a little boy. She had always delighted in their games; to see this woman, this, this bitch tickling him made her feel somehow…unclean. “Oh, David! You stinking ****, I swear I’ll see you rot in jail for this!”
The Mistress turned her head over her shoulder to stare at Angie, never stopping in her slow, careful torture of David’s ribs. “Are you so anxious to have your Mistress return her attentions to you, Western woman? Be patient. You will have your turn. I am not through playing with this toy just yet.”
David’s face burned with humiliation, but he could not even voice his shame; all he could do was laugh.
The Mistress grinned at him as her fingernails did their slow fluttering dance up and down his ribs. “Do you enjoy this, rude Western boy? You laughed so much at my poor people’s livelihood; do you enjoy being made to laugh for my amusement now? What, will you not answer your Mistress? So rude. But you will learn manners in time. For now…you will simply laugh.”
“WAH-HA-HA-HA!!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” David howled.
“Leave him alone!” Angie screamed. “You whore, get off him!”
The Mistress abruptly stopped tickling David, and turned her face toward Angie. A small smile played upon her lips, but her eyes glared at Angie with cold fury. “Whore, is it? A word not to be used lightly, Western woman. It seems your nephew is not the only one in need of a lesson in manners.” The Mistress strolled over toward Angie’s couch. Angie’s body tensed, preparing herself for another assault on her upper body. But her eyes grew wide with terror when she saw the Mistress slowly sink to her knees, at the foot of the couch.
“Oh, shit,” Angie whispered, as she felt the Mistress’ hands grasp her left shoe and deftly tug it off her foot. As ticklish as she was above the waist, her feet were a thousand times more so!
“What a crude foot,” the Mistress commented, examining the sole of Angie’s left foot. “So large, and meaty. No proper Chinese woman would display a foot like this. And these stockings you wear, of the decadent nylon. You shall see how improper they are, Western woman.”
And with that, the Mistress’ sharp fingernails began skittering over the nylon-sheathed sole of Angie’s left foot, scurrying like hyperactive spiders. Angie couldn’t even try to hold in the laughter; the second the Mistress’ nails touched the bottom of her foot, the tickling sensation overwhelmed her. She threw back her head, as much as the couch allowed, and shrieked with laughter.
“EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEK!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHGODOHGODOHGODOH, HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! HOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
The Mistress grinned as her nails danced over Angie’s left sole. Angie’s foot twitched and flailed like a fish in the bottom of a fisherman’s boat, trying to evade the nails; when the Mistress tired of that game, she simply grasped Angie’s toes with one hand, pried them back to stretch her sole out taut, and began rapidly stroking the nails of her other hand up and down Angie’s helpless arch, like strumming some musical instrument. The only music it produced was screeches of laughter from Angie’s tortured throat.
David watched the scene with fascinated horror. He wanted to cry out, to demand that this cruel bitch leave his aunt’s feet alone; but he dared not, coward that he was, because he knew that would only bring her attention back to him. So he watched, silent and helpless.
“Oh, but I am being neglectful,” the Mistress chided herself. “I am ignoring your other foot. That will never do, will it, Western woman? Both of your big ugly feet deserve the same attentions from your Mistress.”
“Shit, no!” Angie screamed, as she felt the Mistress’ fingers tugging at her right shoe. She desperately scrunched her toes up inside the shoe, trying futilely to hold it on her foot. “Not that foot too! Goddamn it, stahAHH!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” The Mistress had given a quick stroke of her nails to Angie’s left sole, causing her to spasm and the toes inside her right shoe to splay; the shoe came off quickly, and the Mistress began tickling the bottoms of both feet with reckless abandon. The torturous sensation now doubled, Angie was soon laughing beyond her capacity to draw breath; unable to make sounds, she merely writhed and convulsed, her mouth a wide-open, silent “O”. David watched, swallowing in fear. He silently prayed that this sadistic bitch wouldn’t get the idea to tickle his feet; but he knew, deep down, that sooner or later, she would!
“Do you begin to see the folly of having such large, deformed feet, Western woman?” The Mistress purred, as her nails danced across Angie’s soles and arches, along the undersides of her toes. “They are so sensitive to outside stimulation, so easily manipulated. A proper Chinese woman’s feet are not nearly so vulnerable. I would never be reduced to hysterical laughter so easily as you. Why, I barely have to touch your feet….”
“Nu Fa Yang!” a new voice, a male voice, barked into the dungeon. The Mistress stopped tickling Angie’s feet, and responded in her own language. Angie was gulping for breath, still giggling a little as the nagging tickling sensation remained on her feet even after the Mistress had stopped. The beautiful Chinese woman rose gracefully to her feet.
“You must excuse me,” she said to Angie and David, with a slight bow. “I am required elsewhere. But I shall return, long before you grow bored waiting for me.” And with that, she glided out of the room, silently as a shadow.
When they were certain she had gone, David turned to his aunt. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“I-I think so,” Angie gasped, her breath still coming in ragged gulps. “God damn it, my feet are so ticklish! That was torture, having to take it like that, not able to make it stop!”
“They have to let us go sometime,” David swore. “I mean…don’t they? S-someone will try to find us!”
“Nobody knows we’re here,” Angie said pragmatically. “We didn’t tell anyone we were coming to Chinatown today!”
“But they can’t keep us here!” David cried. “They can’t!”
“Who’s stopping them?” Angie wanted to know.
“But—“
“Sh!” Angie suddenly hissed. She had heard something. Footsteps approaching.
Angie and David looked up in wonder at the sight of four more Chinese women entering the room. Women? No; these were teenagers. It was difficult to gauge the ages of the Celestial females, but these couldn’t be more than eighteen / nineteen years old, if that. They were all dressed alike, surprisingly enough in Western-style schoolgirl outfits; navy blue skirts, white blouses, knee-high navy blue socks, black patent leather Mary Janes. This singular attire made them all look all the more alike, with their long straight black hair and creamy smooth golden skin. They smiled down at Angie and David, and grinned. Angie and David remained silent, not knowing what to expect from them.
“Ni pa yang?” one of the girls said, looking straight at David. David’s face contorted in a display of confusion. This girl could be asking him anything, from whether he was hungry to would he like a blow job. Somehow he doubted it was the latter.
“Uh…what?” he asked, stupidly.
“Pa yang!” the girl said more forcefully. Then she reached down with one hand and began to tickle David’s stomach.
“Hey! HAHAHAHA!! C-cut that out! HAHAHAHA!” David cried out through his laughter. This girl’s fingernails were not long and sharp like the Mistress’; in fact he felt the soft pads of her fingertips more than her nails. And the difference in sensation was overwhelming!
“Ta shi pa yang!” one of the other girls cried happily, and then began to giggle.
“Zhe li ye cheng li?” a third asked. Then she moved closer to David and began to wiggle her fingertips in his exposed armpits. This made David howl with laughter all the louder. “O shi hen!” she giggled, as she continued to tickle his armpits.
The one working on David’s stomach, without ceasing her ministrations, turned to look at the other two. “De dao ta de jiao!” she cried out. The other two started giggling, then dropped to their knees at the foot of David’s couch.
“Ba ta tuo xia xie!” one of them said to the other, and they began swiftly unlacing David’s cross-trainers. David was howling with laughter too much to protest.
“You little bitches, leave him alone!” Angie screamed, knowing in her heart that it would do no good.
The girl methodically tickling David’s armpits looked at the one on his stomach. “Lao wu po xi huan tan,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Dan ta xiang xiao?” the tummy-tickler asked, as she dug her fingers into David’s stomach.
“Ni fa xian,” the armpit-tickler said. Her friend shrugged, patted David’s stomach as a goodbye gesture, and strolled over to Angie’s couch. She sat down on the couch next to Angie, and began to unbutton her blouse.
“Hey!” Angie snapped. “W-what are you doing? Stop that! D-don’t take off my blouse!” The Chinese girl only smirked at Angie, and when she had the blouse all unbuttoned she spread it wide open, as much as Angie’s bonds would allow. The bare skin of Angie’s stomach and ribs was exposed, only her black lycra bra protecting her breasts.
“Ru ci cang bai,” the girl whispered in amazement, staring at Angie’s skin. She reached out to tweak Angie’s ribs, making Angie jump with a squeal. The girl giggled with delight. “Yi ge ren zhong!” She cried happily, and fell to skittering her fingertips all up and down Angie’s exposed ribs. Angie bounced up and down on the couch as she howled with laughter.
“HOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Meanwhile, the girl at David’s armpits had settled on a slow, delicate technique, using just one fingertip in each armpit and making slow, lazy circles. She hummed as she worked, driving David mad with humiliation. But all he could do was laugh.
“Oh!” one of the girls at David’s feet cried, as she pulled off his left sneaker. “Ta de jiao qi wei ke pa!” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Han shui shi ta men geng min gan,” the other one said as she removed his right sneaker. “Xian zai rang ta da kai yan jie!”
Simultaneously the two girls pulled the white cotton socks from David’s feet, exposing his bare soles. They began scampering their fingertips up and down the bare bottoms of his feet, sending waves of unbearable tickling sensation surging through his body. His laughter doubled in volume and intensity, and his feet twitched and wiggled under the ministrations of the merciless girls.
“Ta shi na me ke ai,” the girl tickling David’s left foot cooed, “ta xiao xiao shuo!”
“WAH HAH HAH HAH!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The double assault on David’s armpits and feet was driving him mad; while the fourth girl worked over Angie’s ribs with diabolic skill, wringing loud shrieks of laughter from the older woman.
“NU HAI!” a familiar female voice suddenly barked through the victims’ laughter. The girls immediately stopped tickling Angie and David and rose to their feet. Blinking through their laughter-induced tears, Angie and David saw the Mistress had returned. She glared coldly at the girls, who marched out of the room, single file, their heads downcast. When they had gone, the Mistress’ face settled into an emotionless expression.
“My apologies,” she said sweetly. “The girls are over-eager, perhaps; a failing of youth. They had not yet been given permission to play with my new toys.”
“Yet?” David repeated, before he could stop himself.
The Mistress turned a wide grin on David. “Yes, Western boy, ‘yet’. You and your aunt shall be the playthings of my young charges, soon enough. But not until I am through with you…and that happy hour is a long way off.”
“You festering ****!” Angie screamed, tugging at her bonds wildly. “If I could only get my hands on you--!”
The Mistress turned her smile to Angie now. “Ah, but you cannot, Western woman,” she purred. “But your fiery spirit disturbs me. Can it be that you have not yet learned just who is, what is your crude expression, ‘calling the shots’ here? Perhaps a lesson in humility is required.” The Mistress strolled across the dungeon floor to Angie’s couch. Angie prepared herself for another round of tickling, but to her surprise the Mistress lifted a long, shapely leg from the folds of her dressing gown, and, standing as gracefully on one leg as any flamingo, extended her foot toward Angie’s face. David was somewhat surprised to see that the Mistress was barefoot.
“Kiss the foot of your Mistress,” she demanded in a voice as smooth as silk but as strong as steel. “Show me that you know who is in control here.”
Angie stared wide-eyed at the Mistress. “Like shit I will! Kiss your foot! You ought to live so long, you yellow hag!”
The Mistress lowered her foot to the floor. “As you wish, Western woman,” she said, and sat down on the end of Angie’s couch. “Soon you will sing a different song, I think. But first….you shall laugh.”
Angie’s eyes popped as she saw the Mistress’ jet-black fingernails moving to her helpless soles. “Shit, no! Not my feet again!” Angie screamed. “Don’t you daAAAHHH!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Angie squealed with laughter as the Mistress’ nails skittered up and down her nylon-sheathed soles, sending wave after wave of ticklish sensation surging through her body. “STAAAAHAHAHAPP!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“You wish me to stop, Western woman?” the Mistress asked, not stopping the maddening crawl of her scribbling nails up and down Angie’s soles. “I think you already know how to make that happen.” Her fingernails still doing their deadly dance, the Mistress lifted her leg up onto the couch, resting her foot beside Angie’s head. “Show your Mistress her due respect, by bestowing your kiss upon her foot. In fact, because you refused the chance, now I want you to suck my toes as well. Each and every toe, with reverence and attention. Or else, the tickles on your decadent nyloned feet will not stop. The choice is yours, Western woman.”
“AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHGOD! OHGOD! OHGOD! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
David’s cheeks burned with shame as he watched the spectacle before him. He knew his aunt was a strong-willed woman; she would never break down and kiss this evil woman’s foot! Or, if she did, she would never forgive herself! And yet, he knew she wouldn’t be able to stand much more tickling on her stocking feet. Soon enough she would do anything--anything--to make it stop.
“Your Mistress is waiting, Western woman,” the Mistress said, wiggling her toes in Angie’s face as her fingernails continued to dance on her stockinged soles. Angie only continued to laugh hysterically.
“Stop it!” David shouted. “Leave her alone! I-I’ll do it!”
The Mistress suddenly stopped tickling Angie’s feet, and stared at David with wide eyes and an amused grin. “You will do what, boy?” she purred.
“I’ll suck your damn toes!” David spat. “Just leave her alone, okay?”
The Mistress stared at David in wonder. “You are a good boy to honor your aunt in this way,” she said. “Very well, I will agree to your terms.” Gracefully as a cat, the Mistress swung her leg down to the floor and raised herself upright, padding over to David’s couch.
“David, no!” Angie cried. “Don’t do it! D-don’t give her the satisfaction!”
But the Mistress ignored Angie, and settled herself at the foot of David’s couch. She glanced down at David’s bare feet appraisingly, and smiled at them. “I see the young ones have bared your feet for torment,” she said approvingly. Reaching down she flicked one fingernail across David’s bare sole; it made his foot twitch, but he made no sound. The Mistress giggled approvingly. “I can hardly wait to test their sensitivity myself. But that will come later.” The cruel torturess swung her left leg up onto the couch, planting her foot next to David’s face. “Now suck, Western boy. Like you mean it. Make your Mistress enjoy it…or it will go very hard for you.”
David could barely suppress a retch. He was by no means a foot guy; the idea of sucking this woman’s toes made him sick. But, for his aunt, he closed his eyes, and took the Mistress’ big toe in his mouth. The taste nearly made him gag; but he began to suck on it, tenderly, fighting hard not to think about what he was doing.
“Very good,” the Mistress purred. “That feels very pleasant. Perhaps it is not so revolting as you thought it would be, boy? Do not forget my other toes.”
“You stinking whore!” Angie shrieked, watching her beloved nephew humiliate himself.
The Mistress only laughed. “Oh, Western woman, you never get tired of invoking the ire of the one who controls your fate! Keep sucking, boy; when you stop, I will pay your aunt back for her words.”
David sucked each of the Mistress’ toes, one by one. He was repulsed by the fact that he found himself getting used to the taste; in fact, he began to find it not unpleasant at all. By the time he reached the smallest toe, he let his tongue swirl around the soft pad of it, trying to see if he could pay her back a little by tickling her. But his efforts were not rewarded; she did not utter a sound, nor try to pull her foot back. If anything, she moved her toe deeper into his mouth.
Finally, the Mistress pulled her foot away. “That is enough, boy,” she said. “You did quite well. I feel I should reward you. So, anxious as I am to play with these toes of yours…” and she illustrated the point by tweaking David’s big toe with her fingers, “…I will return to your aunt instead.”
David watched as the Mistress strolled back to Angie’s couch; saw his aunt’s body stiffen and tense at her approach.
“Now, what was it you called me, Western woman? Whore, was it not? And yet, I have the decency to keep my body covered. Not like you, I see.”
“Wha--why, you bitch!” Angie spat. “Your filthy girls opened my blouse! How dare y--"
“And just look here,” the Mistress said, reaching down. Angie recoiled from the touch, expecting more tickling. But, fluid as mercury, the Mistress’ hand slipped down beneath Angie’s blouse and around to the back, and with one quick movement unfastened her bra. With one quick tug the Asian torturess’ hand came away holding Angie’s bra; Angie gasped in shame to see it, realizing that her firm round breasts were now completely exposed.
“So pale,” the Mistress whispered. “Like tiny hills covered with snow. And yet…firm, and supple.” She reached down and pinched Angie’s right nipple; the sensation made Angie gasp, and burn with shame. Then the sharp points of her fingernails began to skitter all over Angie’s naked breasts, and the sensation shot through her like fire. Again she was howling with laughter.
“WAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! S-S-S-TAAAHAHAHAHAPP!!”
“Do you want me to stop, Western woman?” the Mistress said, still tickling Angie’s breasts with quick feathery grazes of her nails. “Well, perhaps I shall.” Suddenly the Mistress withdrew her fingernails. “I am tired of hearing your insults and demands, Western woman. I want to hear something else from you now. I want you to sing for me.”
Angie was still gasping for breath from the forced laughter. “Y-you…wha?” she said weakly.
“Sing,” the Mistress repeated. “You will sing for your Mistress. Any song will do; whatever your crude Western throat can produce. But you will not stop singing unless I tell you to….no matter what happens. If you do….I will take my pleasure with your nephew.”
Angie glanced at David, saw the fear on his face. She swallowed down her own rage. “All right, you--I-I mean, I’ll sing.”
The Mistress grinned. “You may begin,” she said.
Angie started singing, the first song that came to her mind. Her mind was racing, she wanted only to stop the torture; she gave no thought to what to sing. She just started singing.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” she sang, “how I wonder what you are…”
The Mistress grinned, and sank gracefully to her knees at the foot of Angie’s couch. Angie’s eyes grew wide, expecting more torment to her feet; but she knew she had to keep singing, no matter what.
“Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky…”
To her surprise, the Mistress did not start tickling her feet again. Instead her sharp nails tore the toes of her pantyhose, and her strong fingers ripped them wide open and peeled them down past her heels, baring her feet completely.
“T-Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” Angie sang, terrified of what was to come next, “how I w-wonder what you are…”
Angie almost yelped when she felt the Mistress’ fingers touch the sole of her left foot. It was the soft, fleshy pads of her fingers, not the sharp nails; but still, any touch on her soles was torture to Angie!
“I-I’m a little teapot, short and s-stout,” Angie sang in fear. “HeEEEre ih-his my handle…” The Mistress’ fingertips had begun to glide slowly up the sole of Angie’s bare foot; oh, so slowly, the touch almost a caress, but still dreadfully ticklish to Angie! “h-here is my spoHOUtt!! W-when I g-get aAHll steaHEEmed up…heHEHEHEre me sh-sh-shout…”
The Mistress grinned ferally as her fingertips continued their torturous slide up and down the sole of Angie’s foot. And still Angie fought to retain control of her song!
“TiHIHpp m-me oOHver a-and p-p-pour me ouHOWt!!” Angie cried.
“NU YA FANG!” a male voice barked into the dungeon. The Mistress stopped tickling and looked up. She said something in her own language, then rose to her feet.
“I have a surprise for my guests,” she said to Angie and David. “Remember when I left you before? That was because we had a visitor. Someone going around to shops in this neighborhood, asking if anyone had seen you. She wanted to know where you were. Well, now she has learned. Would you like to see her?”
Before either Angie or David could respond, four Chinese men in black pajama-type clothing came in, carrying a leather couch just like the ones Angie and David were restrained to. And there was someone tied to this one, as well, in the same vulnerable position as Angie and David; hands high over the head, wrists strapped down, legs spread wide and ankles similarly secured. A young woman, a little older than David but younger than Angie. A little overweight, perhaps, but what fifty years ago would have been called “curvaceous”. Light brown hair, fading back to its original color after having been dyed blonde. And a look of intense fear on her face.
“Susan!” Angie gasped. David was mute with shock. His cousin, Angie’s niece. What the fuck was she doing here?
“Isn’t it wonderful?” the Mistress asked as the men set Susan’s couch down, across from Angie and David’s so that they could stare into each other’s faces. “Now our little play group has grown; now I have another toy to play with.”
“D-David? Aunt Angie?” Susan asked, her voice trembling with fear. “Where are we? W-what’s going on?”
The Mistress watched Susan’s fear with quiet delight, as the four men who had borne her to the dungeon silently glided out the door and closed it behind them. “Why do you sound fearful, Western woman?” she asked. “You have received your wish. You wanted to see your aunt and cousin again, and here they are, before you. You have joined them. They are my playthings; and now, you are, as well.”
“Playthings?” Susan repeated, shock in her voice. “Aunt Angie, what is she talking about? What have they done to you?”
“Tell her, my playthings,” the Mistress said. “Tell her what I have done to you…and what I will do to her.”
“Susan,” David said, “this--this woman has been tickling us! Mercilessly!”
Susan gasped in shock. “Tickling you?” Disbelief was clear in the tone of her words.
“Oh God, yes!” Angie cried out. “I know it doesn’t sound so bad, but believe me, it’s torture! Tied down like this, unable to move, to get away--! And it doesn’t stop! She keeps tickling and tickling, and--"
“That is enough,” the Mistress said. “There is no need for further explanations. It is time for our new guest to learn for herself.” And with that, the Mistress began striding slowly across the dungeon floor towards Susan. As she approached, Susan’s body tensed all over, and she vainly tried to edge away from the Mistress, bound helplessly as she was.
“NO!” Susan screamed. “D-don’t you touch me! I-I warn you! DON’T!” But her screams only made the Mistress smile a little wider. The talented fingers extended towards Susan’s helpless body; the sharp, lacquered fingernails touched either side of Susan’s rib cage, and even through the thin silk of her blouse, Susan felt their touch like ten tiny electric shocks. Slowly, the nails began to drag up and down the sides of Susan’s body, sending their tormenting waves of sensation pulsing through her. Not believing her situation, Susan tried not to laugh. But it was no use; she was unbelievably ticklish, all over (as David and Angie knew well, from childhood games where the aunt would hold her down while her cousin tickled her all over!), and in a very short time, the laughter burst from her lips.
"FFWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" Susan shrieked with laughter, as the Mistress' sharp nails glided and skittered up and down her sides, barely touching her at all but every touch sending lightning surges of unbearable sensation shooting through her whole nervous system. The thin silk blouse did nothing to shield Susan from the sensations; indeed, if anything, it multiplied them. Susan threw back her head, as much as her bound position allowed, and howled with laughter; her entire zoftig form quivered and shook with spasms of laughter. Angie and David only watched, in fear and sympathy, as their beloved relative suffered the tortures of the Mistress.
"AHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Susan screamed as the fingernails continued their dance up and down her sides, unrelenting. The Mistress grinned evilly at her new captive, enjoying every moment of her torment.
"Such prizes that continue to fall into my lap today," the Mistress purred. "I did not think anyone could be more ticklish than my other new playthings, but you, little Western girl, seem to be most ticklish of all!" The Mistress continued to tickle Susan's sides for a few more minutes, and then stopped, sitting back to observe her new toy. Susan continued to giggle and squeal a few moments, her tortured brain unaware that the tickling had stopped, and then her giggles subsided into gulps for air. Sweat ran down her face, and dark tears, stained by her smoky-gray eye shadow. Her breasts rose and fell like a bellows as she gasped in precious air; even the stale air of this dungeon was delicious to her tortured, laughter-exhausted lungs.
"You wish the torture to stop, do you not, Western girl?" the Mistress asked. Susan could barely lift her head, the ordeal had tired her out so. "But it will not. I am fascinated with my new toy, and I wish to play with you more." Susan's eyes went wide with terror, and she inched back as much as she could in the bondage, recoiling from this cruel woman. "I intend to explore every inch of your soft, decadent body, to find the places where my tickles cause you the most suffering, which spots bring me the most delight from your reactions. However, I will be kind, for now. I will allow you to choose the next spot that I tickle. I know you will choose a spot where you believe yourself to be the least ticklish; perhaps you do not even think you are ticklish at all, in that spot. But the Mistress can make you laugh, wherever you choose; I promise you that. Now, choose, my plaything; choose where I tickle you next."
Susan's head spun with the Mistress' challenge. Angie had been right; the ceaseless tickling was unbearable! She had to pick a spot where she wasn't very ticklish; but where? Every spot on her body that she could think of, was awfully sensitive. Not my feet, she thought; whatever she does, I have to keep her away from my feet! But Susan's stomach, armpits, and thighs weren't much less sensitive. Think, think!!
"Choose, Western girl," the Mistress cooed, "or I shall choose for you. And I noticed how your oversized feet trembled when I spoke of tickling you."
Susan whimpered in fear. Oh, God, where?? "My knees," she blurted out. "T-tickle my knees!"
The Mistress' eyebrows raised a little. "Your knees, Western girl? An interesting choice. I shall enjoy seeing your reactions as I tickle your knees. But first..." the Mistress reached out and lightly ran her fingertips along Susan's leg; even though she could barely feel it, through her denim jeans, Susan trembled at the touch, remembering what those fingernails could do. "..we must divest you of this protective garment. Even my skilled fingers could not produce such devastating reactions, through this coarse material." Susan watched in fear as the Mistress bent slightly, and her long, tapery fingers swiftly and skillfully undid the fastening of Susan's jeans.
"Leave her alone!" David blurted out as he watched the Oriental torturess undoing his cousin's pants. "You sick bitch, don't take off her jeans!"
"Patience, boy," the Mistress cooed, without pausing or even turning her head. "Your turn will come again....soon. But for now, I wish to play with my new toy." The Mistress pulled Susan's jeans down as far as they would go. It was not very far, with her legs spread as they were; but it was sufficient to bare her kneecaps. Susan tried to keep her lips clamped shut, but a tiny squeak of terror escaped them as she felt her legs bared to the knee.
"Such unsightly skin," the Mistress said disapprovingly. "The color of beetle grubs. Ugly, compared to the pure golden color of my own flawless skin. But I am not interested in your attractiveness, my plaything....only in your sensitivity." And with that, the Mistress lowered her fingers to Susan's kneecaps. Stretched tight on the leather couch, Susan was unable to move her legs or bend her knees, to avoid the Mistress' nails for even a moment. From the instant the sharp instruments of torture touched Susan's kneecaps, she was lost in hysteria, laughter burbling from her throat like a fountain.
"OOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!!" Susan howled as the talented fingernails lightly swept and scratched across her kneecaps. "OOOOOOOOH!! OOOH, HOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOO!!" The Mistress glided her nails across Susan's kneecaps, sweeping in circles and zig-zags and wild, random patterns. Every touch, every stroke was a brand of fire to Susan's helpless nerves, sending burst after burst of laughter pouring from her throat. The only thing worse than the fingernails across her kneecaps was when the Mistress allowed her nails to slip under Susan's knees and tickle the sensitive, seldom-touched skin at the backs of her knees; that sent a jolt of sudden, overwhelming ticklishness surging through her, and it was all the worse because Susan could never predict when the next back-of-the-knee tickle was coming. The Mistress grinned at Susan's torment, pearly white teeth gleaming in the half-light of the dungeon.
Angie fought back the urge to cry out, to demand that this evil bitch leave her niece alone. She knew that the Mistress delighted in such expressions, in knowing the pain that her ministrations was causing her victims; because she knew that such outcries would not help Susan anyway, Angie was determined not to give the Mistress the satisfaction. David, however, was less introspective of the situation, or perhaps just more outraged. He did not hold back.
"STOP IT!" he screamed. "Can't you see you're killing her? For God's sake, stop it!!"
The Mistress did stop, and turned to stare at David with the expression of a cat who has found a wounded sparrow. "Killing her, boy? Nonsense. She will not die. Your stupid Western expression, 'tickled to death', is merely that: a stupid expression. She will live...as long as I want her to."
"I didn't mean it literally!" David spat. "But she can't stand any more! Give her a break, at least!"
"A break?" the Mistress repeated. "And how shall I amuse myself, while I give her this break? By turning my attentions to you, perhaps?"
David scowled at her. "Why not? You'll do it, sooner or later, anyway!"
The Mistress laughed, a short, mirthless laugh. "Why, little Western boy, I think perhaps you begin to enjoy being tickled. Very well. It has not been your turn for awhile. And I have not yet had a chance with your feet. So large...so much sensitive skin."
“Oh God, David, thank you,” Susan gasped through her desperate gulps for air, as the Mistress turned away from her. “Thank you so much!”
“Be strong, Susan,” Angie encouraged. “W-we’ll get out of here! I promise!”
“Do not make promises you cannot keep, my plaything,” the Mistress said, without even turning her head to look at Angie, as she slowly sank to her knees on the silken cushion in front of David’s feet. Involuntarily, David’s toes curled in anticipation of what was to come. The Mistress smiled at his fear, and slowly, oh so slowly!, ran a single index fingernail up the center of David’s foot, taking a torturously long time to travel from heel to toes. David’s foot trembled under the delicate but devastating assault. He clamped his jaws tightly shut, trying not to give the evil woman the satisfaction of laughing. But the Mistress knew it was only a matter of time, and decided to prolong her game. Placing the sharpened tips of only her index fingernails on the bottoms of David’s feet, one on each sole, she slowly glided the instruments of torture up and down his feet. Slowly the nails stroked the skin of David’s soles, up and down, up and down, never varying from their path the slightest millimeter to left or right. David’s toes fanned out under this delicate assault, and his upper body trembled. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought down the laughter. But somehow, this slow, gentle stroking was even worse than the all-out furious assault of earlier. The tickling sensation, rather than overwhelming him outright, crept over him slowly but relentlessly, like a legion of ants crawling along his nervous system, leaving tiny electric shocks wherever they went.
“My little plaything tries to show his strength,” the Mistress cooed as her index fingers continued to stroke up and down the bottoms of David’s feet. “But no matter how strongly you resist, Western boy, sooner or later you will crumble. Why not give in now, and spare yourself further torment? I may become bored with you sooner, if you break down and laugh now. Come now, laugh for your Mistress. You know you want to. It takes so much will to resist the laughter, and it would be so much easier to give in. To let the happy sounds pour forth from your throat. Do not deny it, Western boy, you want to laugh. And your Mistress wants to hear you laugh. So….laugh.” On the last word, the Mistress allowed her index fingernails to slip between the second and third toes of David’s feet, where they had not traveled before, at least not in this torture session. The sudden sensation to the hitherto-untouched area was like a live wire touched to David’s ticklish nerves; all at once the laughter burst from him.
“FFWAAAH-HA-HA-HA!!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
“Such a good little toy,” the Mistress cooed, sawing her long fingernails in and out between all of David’s toes. “How enthusiastically you obey your Mistress’ command to laugh. I admit that I begin to enjoy the sound of your robust Western laughter, crude and unmusical though it is. Perhaps it is that very quality, the difference from the refined, mellifluous laughter of my fellow Celestials, that lends enjoyment to me.” The Mistress began to toy with the pads of David’s toes, drawing little circles on the pads of each one with the tips of her index fingernails. David’s head thrashed from side to side on the leather couch as laughter wracked his tortured body. His toes wiggled and flailed in a desperate attempt to escape the Mistress’ nails.
Angie turned her head away, and allowed tears to flow down her face. When David was a boy, she had played tickle games with his feet and toes many times; to see this cruel woman doing it, and the obvious pain it caused him, made her sick inside.
Finally, the Mistress rose to her feet. “I find the reactions you give to having your toes tickled most pleasing, Western boy,” she announced. “But the straps restrain your ankles only. They do not keep your toes still, so that I might torture them more effectively. I shall leave you now, but I shall return with soft, silken thread to tie your toes back, to keep them still while I tickle them. Perhaps I shall bring a calligraphy brush, as well, to see whether it is more effective on your toes than my own fingernails. Do not fret, laughing boy, I shall not be long.” With that, the Mistress crossed the cell, and left. As soon as the door was shut, Susan burst into sobs.
“W-what are we going to do?” she wailed. “Nobody knows where we are!! H-how can we escape? How--"
“Ssh!” David hushed her urgently, and continued in a whisper. “When that bitch was tickling my toes--God, I hate that! --I was pulling at the straps for all I was worth. And I think I felt the one holding my right wrist give a bit!”
“Oh God, David!” Angie whispered excitedly. “D-do you think you can get free?”
David’s young muscles strained at the strap, concentrating all his power into his right arm. “I’m--sure--as shit--gonna try!” he grunted. The young man pulled as hard as he could. Angie and Susan watched, attention riveted on his right wrist. The muscles in David’s arm stood out, like powerful cables just beneath his skin. He kept up the pressure for long, long minutes….and finally, in the silence of the small room, the captives heard a barely-audible rip. Angie gasped. Susan cried out in joy.
“Oh my God,” Susan cried, “you did it! You--"
“Ssh!” Angie hissed. “Not so loud! We’re not out of this yet!”
“No…not yet,” David agreed, panting with exhaustion, as he tugged and tugged at the ripped strap, feeling it give a little more with every tug. Finally, his right hand pulled down, free of the restraining strap. He felt needle-like tingling in his fingertips as the blood rushed back to them; but instantly his hand was at his left wrist, trying to undo that strap. “Hurry, David!” Susan urged. But his fingers were numb from so long held above his head, numb and clumsy. He desperately tried to free his left wrist…
“What occurs?!” the Mistress’ voice barked into the room, in a commanding tone. Three heads whirled in the direction of the doorway. The Mistress stood there, staring into the cell, eyes wide with blazing hatred. Before any of the captives had a chance to reply, the Mistress turned to the still-open doorway and called out, “Jing wei!” In seconds, three muscular, strong-looking Chinese men appeared in the doorway, their faces devoid of emotion. The Mistress merely pointed at David, and his free wrist.
“Since you do not find the leather straps an accommodating furnishing, Western boy,” the Mistress purred, her superior tones of one in perfect control now back, “we shall find you something perhaps more to your liking.” Two of the guards left the cell then, leaving one behind who stood very close to David’s couch, staring intently at him. The Mistress returned her attention to Angie and Susan. “Do not worry, my ugly Western playthings,” she said, “I will make certain that you are not bored while we wait.” She turned back to the guard. “Pàngzi de jiao chìluo,” she ordered. The guard strode quickly to Susan’s couch and dropped to his knees. With quick motions of his hands and fingers he removed her leather moccasins and cotton socks, leaving her feet bare. He then returned to his post watching over David. The Mistress grinned wickedly at Susan, who cowered in stark terror. She knew that her feet were to be tickled next, and she had never been able to stand that!
Angie was not watching Susan’s predicament; her eyes were intent on her nephew, David. The other two guards had returned, pushing a large wooden contraption between them. It looked like a huge letter “X” made of two thick wooden beams, supported by a metal bar going through it at the intersection of the beams and this attached to wooden support posts at either end of the bar. At the ends of each of the wooden beams was an upright wooden board with a small hole in the center. The guards flipped these open with a touch, and they split in half on hinges on one side. Angie realized that they were wooden stocks for restraining the wrists and ankles. No matter how David pulled and tugged, there would be no escape from these restraints!
“NO!” Susan’s shrill cry snapped Angie’s head back around to her. The Mistress was grinning wolfishly as she sank to her knees on the soft cushion in front of Susan’s helpless feet. “No, not my feet, please!” Susan begged. “I-I can’t stand that! Please, no!!”
“Don’t bother, Susan,” Angie called out to her. “The bitch has no mercy, and our begging only increases her pleasure! Don’t give her the satisfaction!’
But if Susan heard her aunt, her fear overrode her logic. As the Mistress held up her hands, fingers crooked into claws and highly lacquered nails glittering in the dim light, Susan could only whimper and beg shamelessly as the Oriental torturess slowly, oh so slowly, moved those talented fingers closer and closer to her newest victim’s bare soles. Angie tore her face away, and watched what was happening to David.
The guards had taken David off the leather couch, unfastening his straps; one held a short-bladed dagger, blade gleaming clean and sharp even in the dim light, at David’s neck throughout the entire operation to ensure his cooperation. The other two had forced his back against the X-frame and his arms and legs spread wide along the beams. Then they had locked his wrists and ankles into the stocks. Angie saw them move the wrist-stocks a couple of inches down the beams, to reach David’s wrists; she had wondered what had happened when a particular victim was the wrong height for the stocks, and was impressed in spite of herself to see that they were adjustable.
“Nánhái zhǔnbèi jiùxù,” one of the guards called, when David was secured to the X-frame. Susan was watching the Mistress’ slowly-descending claws in mounting horror, her eyes wide as dinner plates and her lower lip trembling, unable to tear her eyes away from them as they moved closer and closer to her feet.
“Bùjiǔ wǒ jiāng cānjiā tā,” the Mistress said, without turning her head away from Susan’s nervously-trembling feet. “Shānchú tā de yīfú, ér wǒ bànyǎn de chǒulòu de jiǎo.” And with that, her claws finally touched Susan’s soles, lightly grazing the bottoms of her heels. Even that light touch was too much for Susan’s ultra-ticklish feet; she let out a shriek the instant the Mistress’ nails touched her heels. The Mistress grinned in wicked delight as she slowly whisked her nails up the bottoms of Susan’s feet, all five nails on each sole, leaving barely a centimeter of flesh unstroked. Susan howled with laughter, her toes fanned out reflexively, as the awful tickling sensation surged through her.
“AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO! NO! NOAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
As the Mistress explored the ticklishness of Susan’s helpless feet, the guards began removing David’s clothing. “Hey, wait a minute!” David cried out in shock and rage as they slit his shirt with their daggers, plucking the shreds of fabric from his now-naked torso. “Don’t do that! You miserable fuckers, cut it out! HEY! NOT MY PANTS!” But David’s entreaties fell on deaf ears as his trousers suffered the same fate as his shirt, reduced to rags by the Asian daggers and ripped from his skin by unrelenting fingers. In moments, he hung there on the X-frame, the bottoms of his feet hovering inches above the floor of the dungeon, in nothing but his white cotton boxer shorts.
“Nánhái zhǐ chuānzhuó tā de xià de dōngxi, qíngfù,” one of the guards said in his guttural growl.
“Nǐ kěyǐ zǒuliǎo,” the Mistress responded, not taking her eyes off of Susan’s spasmodically-twitching feet as she glided her fingernails up and down the helpless woman’s arches. The guards nodded, and left the dungeon cell, closing the heavy door behind them. David struggled on the X-frame. His arms and legs had been stretched to piano-wire tautness by the stocks, and he had very little give. He tugged with all his might, but the firm wood did not budge in the slightest.
“AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OHGOD! OHGOD! OHGOD! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Susan shrieked, as the Mistress began to toy with that seldom-touched area just at the base of the toes. With the fingers of her left hand she pried the toes of Susan’s left foot back, and the very tips of her right fingernails danced back and forth across that soft, tender skin, like hyperactive insects scurrying to and fro across Susan’s ultra-ticklish flesh. The Mistress enjoyed Susan’s torment for a few more minutes, then quickly and unceremoniously released her foot. It flopped out of her grasp like a marionette whose strings had been suddenly cut. Susan gasped, gulping in air to her tortured lungs. Her face was flushed bright red and streaked dark by her mascara-tinted sweat and tears. She turned her head as far to one side as she could, pressed her face against her own shoulder, and wept.
“And now, Western boy,” the Mistress purred, rising to her full height and strolling languidly toward him, “it is time to show you the penalty for attempting to escape my caresses.” The Mistress was silent for a moment, her gaze traveling up and down David’s nearly-naked body. “I did not notice your musculature beneath your heavy Western clothes, boy,” she cooed. “Perhaps I was hasty in my previous judgment. Perhaps you are not so ugly as I thought.” The Mistress reached out her right hand, and slowly ran the very tip of her index fingernail down David’s right side, from just below his armpit to just above the waistband of his boxer shorts. David flinched from the touch, but managed to hold in any sounds it elicited. The Mistress only grinned at his resistance. “Trying to deny your Mistress the sound of your laughter, eh? We shall see about that.” The Mistress placed her hands on either side of David’s torso, just the tips of her fingernails touching the skin, and began slowly moving them up and down his body, all the while drumming and wiggling her fingers so that the motions of the nail tips across the skin was a constant barrage of ticklish jolts. David felt goose bumps pop out all over his skin. He bit his lower lip in a desperate attempt to keep the laughter inside. But it was no use; in almost no time at all, the forced mirth burst from his lips.
“FFWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“That is better,” the Mistress purred as she continued the assault on David’s sides. “You do know how to please your Mistress, Western boy…with your laughter.” With that, the Mistress’ fingernails glided into David’s armpits and began a slow, torturous assault there, making lazy circles of skittering fingernails around and around the hairy hollows. With his arms stretched high over his head, the skin of David’s armpits was taught as the skin of a drum, and his nerves were obedient playthings in the Mistress’ hands. His laughter turned to shrieks of hysteria, and his head flopped backwards, between the upper bars of the X-frame, as the laughter poured from his throat.
“HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH GAH-HA-HAAAAAAD, MAKE IT STAH-HAH-HAPP!!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”
Angie fought down an urge to cry out, to demand that this evil bitch stop tickling her beloved nephew. But she did not bother; she knew that it would only spur the wicked Mistress on to greater, more humiliating actions. At least David’s shorts were still on….but how long would that last?? Angie glanced over at Susan, bound on her own couch; she still lay whimpering, head buried in the side of her arm. She was furiously rubbing her feet against each other, first scouring the sole of one foot with the instep of the other and then reversing their positions, as if trying to scourge the memory of the Mistress’ tickles from them.
“You laugh so well for your Mistress, Western boy,” the Mistress purred. “But I have not forgotten that special spot which makes you laugh all the more.” With that, the Mistress twisted a knob on the side of the X-frame, and then grasped the upper beam of the X closest to her. At her slightest manipulation, the frame tilted backwards, until it was parallel to the floor. David lay inescapably restrained on the X, staring up at the ceiling…and the soles of his feet facing the cruel Mistress. Another twist of the knob and the frame was locked back into place. David felt his heart sink as the Mistress stepped around to his helpless feet.
“Such handsome feet, for a Westerner,” she cooed, running her index fingertip along his left arch; just the soft pad of her fingertip this time, not her nail, almost caressing. “And so responsive to their Mistress’ touch. Laugh for me again, Western boy. Laugh long and loud for me.” And the Mistress began rapidly scribbling her fingernails all over the bottoms of David’s feet, fast and furious, each tiny scrape and scratch like an electric jolt. David shrieked with helpless laughter.
“EEEHHEEEEHEEEEEHEEEEEHEEEEK!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OH! OH! OH! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
David’s feet twitched and flailed helplessly, jerking spasmodically with every touch of the Mistress’ nails. The sensations surging through his body from his feet were unbearable, were the worst torture he could imagine. But there was nothing he could do to stop it, not even to alleviate it for a moment. He was truly this cruel woman’s plaything, for as long as she chose to keep him so.
“Oh, look at my little plaything,” the Mistress purred. “Western woman, do you see your nephew? It seems as though he is beginning to enjoy my attentions to him. Is that not right, Western boy? Do not bother to deny it; the evidence is here for all of us to see.” The Mistress had not stopped tickling David’s feet throughout her speech, so all that he could do by way of response is howl with laughter. Angie looked over at her suffering nephew, wondering what this insane bitch was talking about. And then she saw it. A huge tent-pole in David’s boxer shorts! Being tickled by this woman had actually given him an erection! Angie tore her face away from the sight. She tried to tell herself that David had no control over this; that tickling was not actually painful, was in fact pleasure carried to unbearable extremes, and this was just a reaction of his body. There was no way he could actually be enjoying this. And yet, the shame of it all brought a tear to Angie’s eye.
“Leave him alone,” Angie cried out, unable to hold back anymore. “Leave him alone, do you hear me!!”
“I hear,” the Mistress replied. “Are you volunteering for more of my ministrations, Western woman? It has been awhile since you have felt my caresses. Are you so anxious for more?”
“Fine, if you leave David alone!” Angie spat. “Tickle me all you want, but he needs a rest, don’t you see?”
“As you wish,” the Mistress said, stopping her tickling of David’s feet. She actually began caressing his feet, rubbing the soles lightly with the palms of her hands, as if trying to calm them down after the frenzied attack on their nervous system. “I grow a bit bored with your nephew anyway. It is time to play with you some more…and see how you react.” Giving David’s big toe a final tweak with her fingers, the Mistress strolled slowly toward Angie. The older woman shivered as a chill of fear ran through her, and the sweat on her skin suddenly felt very cold. In her shame and anger over David’s near-nakedness and humiliation, she had actually forgotten that her own breasts were bare, and vulnerable to the Mistress’ attack! She had never realized how ticklish her breasts were, but when the Mistress had tickled them with her fingernails, she had almost died! She actually hoped that the Mistress would tickle her feet, instead!
The cruel Asian torturess stood in front of Angie, grinning wickedly, and produced a tiny calligraphy paintbrush from somewhere within the folds of her garment. “I had planned to use this on your nephew’s adorable toes,” she purred. “But, as you prefer to volunteer yourself…” The Mistress held the instrument between her fingers expertly, and Angie watched in horror as it descended slowly, oh so slowly…the soft bristles moving unerringly toward her left nipple!
“O-Oh no!!” Angie writhed backwards as much as she can, in a futile effort to keep her breasts away from the bristles. “Not that!! No, please, not my breasts!! NoOOH!! OH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie burst into frenzied laughter as the soft bristles began a slow, torturous circuit around the rim of her dark aureole. The feather-light touch sent unbearable shocks of ticklishness surging through her body. She was powerless to resist its touch.
The Mistress smiled her tiger’s cruel smile. “I have learned that your hideously large Western breasts are a sensitive spot,” she purred, as she continued to circle Angie’s aureoles with the brush, first one, then the other. “Sooo ticklish. And the brush is a delightful weapon to use upon them; so soft and feathery light, yet when skillfully manipulated….unbearable.” The Mistress switched to the undersides of Angie’s breasts, flickering the bristles of the brush lightly and rapidly over them.
“HOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie howled as the brush worked on her awfully sensitive breasts. This was torture, unimaginable torture! And yet…shameful as it was, she could feel her nipples stiffening from the feathery assault…feel an undeniable moist warmth building between her legs…
“Do you wish me to stop, Western woman?” The Mistress cooed, as the brush swirled over the underside of her left breast. “This tickles oh, so much, does it not? You would like it to stop, wouldn’t you?”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! YES, YEH-HEH-HESS!! AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Angie couldn’t deny it.
“Perhaps I will allow you to…earn a respite,” the Mistress said, flickering the bristles across the tops of Angie’s breasts. “You would do anything to make it stop, even for a little while, would you not?”
Angie did not answer. Then, the Mistress began rapidly flickering the bristles over the tips of Angie’s erect nipples. That was the most intense sensation Angie had yet felt in this dungeon of ticklish horrors! It was like a red-hot brand touched to her raw nerve ending; but it did not elicit pain, but a tickle more intense than any pain she had ever felt.
“AAAH!! STOP!! STAH-HAH-HAP!!”
“You will do as I command?” the Mistress asked, flickering Angie’s other nipple.
“ANYTHING, ANYTHIH-HIH-HING!!” Angie cried, as her whole body was wracked with the tickling sensations. To her shame and horror, she felt the moist warmth growing hotter between her legs.
“Very well,” the Mistress said, and withdrew the brush. Angie gasped, gulping in air as her body shook with convulsions, unable to process the ultra-intense tickles and their sudden stoppage. She blinked tears from her eyes, but when her vision cleared, she found herself staring at the smooth sole of a small, shapely, bare foot, mere inches from her face. She looked up and saw the Mistress sitting atop the back of the couch, smiling wolfishly down at her.
“Your nephew earned a respite by sucking my toes,” she purred. “Let us see if you are as skilled at this as he proved to be.”
Angie fought the urge to gag. She could not stand the thought of putting this horrible woman’s toes in her mouth! But anything was better than that torturous brush on her nipples! Wasn’t it? Well, she would soon find out. Taking a deep breath and squeezing her eyes shut, Angie gingerly took the Mistress’ big toe between her lips. It was salty, tangy to the taste. Trying to forget what she was doing, Angie sucked on it, gently, like a cough drop. The Mistress wiggled her other toes, and Angie shuddered as she felt them brush against her lips.
“Not so bad, at first,” the Mistress said approvingly. “Your nephew improved as he progressed. I expect you will, also. After all, I still have the brush to convince you.” Angie felt something soft and smooth gently brush over the tip of her still-erect left nipple, and jerked convulsively with the touch; she realized it must have been the bare toe of the Mistress’ other foot. She continued to suck on the woman’s big toe, crying inside at the shame and humiliation.
“Do not forget my other toes, Western woman,” the Mistress cooed. “They long for your tender attentions as well. Come, suck your Mistress’ pretty toes!”
One by one, Angie took the Mistress’ toes into her mouth and sucked on them. Tears ran down her face as she did; this was the most humiliating thing she had ever been forced to do! But what alternative did she have?
“Very good,” the Mistress said, as Angie’s lips slid over her smallest toe. “Now kiss the bottom of my foot. All over. Cover my golden sole with your passionate kisses, Western woman! Kiss my foot like it was the face of your lover!”
Angie could not hold back the tears now. She cried audibly as she planted kiss after kiss on the sole of her torturer’s foot. Each touch of her lips to the woman’s foot was a lash of humiliation, a stab to her dignity. Whatever was left of it.
“Very well, Western woman,” the Mistress said, gently stroking Angie’s stomach with the tips of her toes. “You have earned a respite from my tickling touches. Now, whose turn is it? Oh yes, I was administering to your nephew before, was I not? That means….”
Susan whimpered in fear as the Mistress’ evilly-grinning face slowly turned to her.
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