The Nylon Dungeon: Kirsten

The Nylon Dungeon: Kirsten
By Daumantas

With a loud clang, the cell door opened, shattering the stillness of the cell.

Michelle and Gina each involuntarily drew in a gasp of air as they heard the sound of the door. It could be another girl being brought into the cell to join them – the cells had room for four girls each. Or it could be a member coming to take one, or both, of them for a tickling session.

They relaxed when they saw the guard bringing a girl into the cell. She was an attractive blonde, clad in a long T-shirt and tan stockings. She staggered breathlessly, and the guard had to support her as she walked. "On the cot, on your stomach," he ordered.

She meekly complied, collapsing onto the cot and rolling over to face down. The guard then took some restraints from the cabinet and fastened her wrists and ankles behind her in a hog-tie. He attached a leather collar around her neck and ran a strap loosely from it, tying the other end securely to the frame of the cot. Then, wordlessly, he left the room, locking the door behind him. The girl was still panting for breath.

Once the guard had left, Michelle adjusted her weight as best she could and said, "Hi Melissa."

Gina, to her left, echoed, "Hey, ‘Liss."

"Hi guys," Melissa gasped back.

Michelle and Gina – each bound in a kneeling position on wooden tables about five feet apart, Michelle with her hands behind her back and Gina with her arms above her head, each wearing matching lace teddies with black stockings – looked at one another and then back at Melissa. "Jesus, you must have had an awful tickling session," Gina remarked. "You’re still out of breath."

Melissa, finally starting to recover, muttered, "Jack."

"Oh God, that explains it," Gina answered. "That merciless rat bastard."

Michelle shuddered. "He really scares me."

"Your own shadow scares you," Gina sneered in response. Michelle glared back at her.

As usual, the two of them were arguing – in fact, had been in mid-argument when they heard the dreaded sound of the door opening. Confident, worldly Gina and shy, innocent Michelle had been two very different women when they had been abducted and brought to the Nylon Dungeon, and when they had met within its confines, they didn’t especially like one another. So, perversely, the Nylon Dungeon members frequently enjoyed confining the two girls to the same cell. It added an extra soupçon of psychological torture to force two girls who were not fond of one another to be in the same room all night, bound hand and foot and unable to leave. The members frequently found it amusing to watch the girls’ bickering via the room’s surveillance cameras.

"You’re going to try to convince me you’re not scared of Jack?" Michelle answered.

"No, I’m not," Gina said. "Sure, he’s a rotten little bastard. God knows I don’t want him tickling me half to death. But that’s not the same as being scared of him."

Melissa, finally having regained her breath, decided to join in the conversation. "You’ve got to remember, Michelle – she has special privileges around here." Gina blushed at the reference to Dan, her captor, who had abducted her when she had spurned his repeated requests for a date. It was well known that Gina was Dan’s favorite, and the other girls frequently teased Gina by claiming that Dan’s favoritism spared her the worst horrors of the Dungeon.

Michelle couldn’t help but giggle in response to Melissa’s joke (although laughing in the cells was a dangerous business; if the wrong member happened to notice a captive laughing while in the cell, he might immediately go to that cell and inform the woman in question that if she were so eager to laugh, it could easily be arranged…).

"Fine, go ahead and make fun," Gina finally said. "I’ll bet he ends up being my ticket out of here."

Michelle’s eyes opened wide with incredulity. "The same man who brought you here? And you think he’s going to let you go?"

"Of course not," Gina said. "But I think I can still play him…and maybe trick him into letting me go…"

"You’re dreaming," Michelle said. "He’s got you right where he wants you. Why should he ever let you go?"

"Hey, think whatever you want, but I still say there’s a chance."

"OK, I’ll believe it when I see it." She rolled her eyes.

Melissa chimed in, "I suppose you’re not afraid of Dan either."

"Come on, Dan? Get real," Gina said. But despite her bravado, her voice was beginning to quiver. The memory of her first few days and nights in the Dungeon, tickled mercilessly by Dan and then other members in quick succession, suddenly came flooding back.

Gina swallowed hard, trying not to show her fear, or at least not to make it too obvious. Then she sighed, as if in exasperation. "Look, the only reason any of these guys are scary to us is because we’re tied up all the time and because they’re armed. If my hands were free, believe me, I would personally castrate every one of these sons of bitches. Slowly. With a rusty knife." She grimaced. "Starting with the Weasel."

"OK, Captain Courageous," Michelle said, "if you’re so gutsy, how about I tell Nigel the next time I see him how you’d like to castrate him?"

"Nooo, don’t," Gina immediately shrieked. "I mean it, Michelle. Don’t tell him that."

"Yeah, I thought so."

Gina hung her head. "That’s different… Nigel’s different. How could you not be scared of Nigel?"

The other girls nodded. The name of Nigel was spoken with great awe and terror among the captives.

"He is just about the most heartless person I have ever known," Melissa said.

Michelle looked conspiratorially around the room before turning again to the others. "Do you guys think…it’s true?"

"What’s true?"

"The rumor about Nigel…that he brought his own sister in here as a captive when he joined."

"I don’t know," said Melissa. "It sounds very possible to me."

Gina looked skeptical. "I don’t know, I mean, it fits in with Nigel’s personality and all, but…I mean, that just sounds like a bit too much to believe."

"I wouldn’t put it past Nigel," Michelle said, her voice quivering as she remembered how cruelly and without relief Nigel had tickled her in the past.

"Hey, Princess, didn’t you just hear me say I think he would be willing to do it? All I’m saying is, that just seems like it would be tough…I mean, how would you conceal it from your family and all?"

"He probably just pretends he doesn’t know where she is, either."

"Well, has anyone ever seen her?"

Michelle shrugged. "I haven’t, but I heard some other girls have. I heard Linda say something about it."

Gina snorted. "I don’t put much faith in what Linda says," she sneered. "If you ask me, that girl’s been a little flaky ever since the way they tickled her after she tried to escape –"

She clamped her lips shut, but it was too late. Melissa had already begun to sob as the memory vividly reappeared of her and Linda’s aborted escape attempt – and its most ticklish outcome.

"Nice going, dumb-dumb," Michelle silently mouthed to Gina. Twisting her hand as much as the binding on her wrist would allow, Gina shot a middle finger back at Michelle. Then she turned to Melissa. "Hey honey, I’m sorry, I forgot…I didn’t mean…I know I shouldn’t have mentioned it…"

"It’s OK," Melissa said. "It’s not you. I mean…they have no right to do this…to any of us…"

"No," Gina whispered, "they don’t."

It was at moments like this when the girls remembered just how helpless they truly were. As Melissa’s sobs redoubled, Michelle bit her lower lip, and began to grow teary-eyed. Gina, too, despite her resolve not to begin crying, leaned her head against her left arm, looking downward, and tried to fight back the tears. "I’ve been kidnapped and tickle tortured by a man that would kidnap a woman he claims to be in love with," she said, half to herself. "And then there’s a man here who would kidnap his own sister." Then, more quietly, she added, "I wonder if he really did."

***********

How long had it been? Hours, perhaps. Two hours or three? There was no way to know. Only blackness. Not that there was anything to see. Even if it weren’t for the blindfold, Kirsten knew that there would be nothing in the room but bare walls, a few gloomy lights…and her bondage.

She tilted her head to one side. She could feel the cold steel of the shackles on her wrists and ankles. She was wearing a bra, she could tell, panties, and some sort of lower garment – and, of course, the ever-inescapable stockings. At least the nylons added a little bit of warmth to her legs, to counteract the coldness of her bare torso. The wooden table felt hard beneath her back, and her shoulders ached.

Tilting her head again, she moaned. They had left her ungagged, but she knew the Nylon Dungeon well enough by now to know that that was no favor on anyone’s part. The lack of a gag was merely so that her captors could hear her piteous cries for help, her moans, her shrieks, her pleas for mercy – and her fierce, unabated, maniacal laughter when the tickling started. At her captor’s whim, she would just as easily have been gagged, and with no blindfold – or both gagged and blindfolded.

Her fingers clenched lightly, and then released. The terror of this nonstop waiting was almost worse than the tickling itself. Almost, that is.

All the captives in the Dungeon knew the fear, and the humiliation, and the agony of the tickling. But Kirsten had a special thought in her mind that never left her. It nagged her day and night. It spoke relentlessly in her mind again as she lay helpless on the table.

My brother….my OWN BROTHER…..

He was two years older, and had always been intimidating, even as a child. She had thought nothing of his growing penchant for tickling for many years. But as she began to mature into a beautiful, well-built young woman, he had suddenly turned his vicious attentions on her. Pinning her to the floor, to the bed, to the sofa, he had tickled her without mercy. He had chased her around the house and tormented her every chance he had. Sometimes she slept at friend’s homes because she feared going home.

As he had gotten older, it had seemed as though the situation had improved. He joined the Navy, and was away for long periods of time. When he came home, and the family gathered for holidays, Kirsten – by then living in an apartment by herself and attending veterinary school – decided that he had gotten whatever bug he had in him out of his system, and no longer seemed threatening. Still, she had been puzzled by an odd phone conversation she had overheard one day at her parents’ home, when he was using an upstairs phone in a bedroom. She wasn’t sure if her imagination was playing tricks on her, but it seemed as though the words "kidnap" and "ticklish" were among those she had heard him use. She shivered, but figured that he must be making some kind of rough joke with a friend.

A few weeks later, he had invited her over for dinner on a Friday night. She had been thrilled to receive the invitation. She hoped that this was the beginning of a reconciliation, and a chance to put her fears and unpleasant memories behind her. He had told her he would be taking her out to a show after dinner, and instructed her to get dressed up accordingly. Several times he had reminded her to make sure she wore a dress "and stockings." She found these instructions odd, but chalked them up to his apparent desire to have a perfect night out with his kid sister.

Everything had gone normally after her arrival at the new house he had recently bought, and he had seemed especially pleasant. Everything that is, until she began to eat dinner. Just a few bites into the chicken, she began to feel faint. She told him that she wanted to lie down. He seemed concerned, and escorted her to a sofa. He asked if she were all right. She had told him no, that she felt as though she were about to pass out. Then – to her horror – he smiled evilly, and said, "Good. Then everything’s going according to plan."

How long ago had that been? She didn’t know. It was hard to keep track of time in the Nylon Dungeon. She knew it had been a long time. To her, it seemed like centuries.

My brother…my OWN BROTHER….

She gasped as she heard the cell door clang open, followed by a moment of silence, and then the slam and lock of the door. Footsteps echoed across the concrete floor. Involuntarily, she let out a small shriek of fear.

The footsteps stopped, somewhere near the table. Unable to see, she braced herself for the inevitable…but no matter how hard she tried to prepare, when the fingers first touched her nylon stockinged soles, it was never anything other than a tidal wave shock to her nervous system.

Kirsten screamed as she felt the fingers begin to run gently up and down the sole of her left foot. Her chest heaved with gasping laughter. The fingers rolled relentlessly across the smooth surface, gently raking.

Then a second hand was added to the first, which continued to rake at her bare, helpless sole. This one, using all five fingers, dug fiercely into her most ticklish spot – the area around the base of her toes. Her mouth hung open with silent laughter, and her foot twitched violently as she struggled, but she could not evade the merciless fingers.

The tight leather blindfold dampened as her tears soaked into it. Her mane of lovely blonde hair tossed from side to side. Her hands pulled at the shackles on her wrists until her arms ached.

Finally, after long minutes of this torture, the fingers stopped. Kirsten gasped for air, and tried not to beg. Begging only made it worse. She had learned that early in her captivity.

She heard her torturer chuckle with pleasure and walk a few slow steps. Then, with a sudden burst of ticklishness, she felt both hands resume their torture on her other foot. Her screams and struggles redoubled.

But even in the midst of her worst ticklish agony, the thought never left her. How could he bring me here? How could he do this to me?

My brother…my OWN BROTHER…