ThePurpleQuill
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2018
- Messages
- 161
- Points
- 16
A young woman’s slumber: so tender, so peaceful, yet so ultimately fleeting.
She had a nagging feeling something was amiss, but she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it. However, lost in the warm embrace of a long night’s sleep, she just kept postponing that very moment further and further. Maybe it was the soft sheen of the surrounding light, several shades lower than the radiant sunrise she had expected to rouse her that morning. Maybe it was the faint aroma of collecting dust, a stark anomaly given the cleanliness five-star hotels usually pride themselves in. Maybe it was her shoes, unconsciously wriggling her toes to find her flats still nestled on her feet, a strange misstep for her to leave them on before going to bed the night before. Or just maybe it was that moment when, upon attempting to turn herself over for just five more minutes of bedrest, she found herself completely incapable of doing so.
As Sabrina Carpenter abruptly awakens, stirring herself from a long and unexpected hibernation, she is confronted by the most horrifying sight of her life.
She is bound, stretched taut across a large padded couch, its plush material underneath a thin layer of green felt. Struggling to free herself, she finds her wrists tied above her head, bound tight with thick nylon rope. Its length extending out of sight, she can see its long white material wrap around the arm of the loveseat above. As she glances down her person she catches glimpse of her ankles, perched atop the arm adjacent, bound together with the same rope. She pulls them toward her, noting the tightness of her bondage keeping her feet completely stationary. With both strands keeping her stretched to her absolute limit, not one inch of slack for her to hold onto, she is left completely immobilized, the length of her petite figure barely able to fill the seat.
She is clad in her white tank top and blue jean shorts, the same that she found herself stripping down to the very night previous, assuring her that it had been of unnatural circumstances that forced her to doze off roughly twelve hours prior. She gazes up at the single fluorescent bulb, hanging precariously from a single electrical strand protruding from the ceiling, its sheen barely able to illuminate the spruce walls that surround her. She can only glean through her limited vision that she has been taken to some type of storage facility, a detail hardly of importance as of now. All that truly matters now is the realization that she is trapped, in unfamiliar surroundings, and that there is no way of letting any of her loved ones know where she may be.
“He…he…HELP!! HELP ME!!” she attempts to call out, the panic of her situation stifling her call but momentarily. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” She jerks at her bonds once more, reminding herself of their formidable design. Despite such a strain on her delicate voice, she finds her frantic cries falling on deaf ears: the thick wooden walls absorb much of the sound, their porous material acting as natural soundproofing, not letting one frequency escape the enclosed space. She calls out again, not even the echo from her own voice to keep her company. It is at this point that a wash of panic consumes the creature, the realization she knows nothing of where she is or who could have brought her here. Her breathing turned frantic, she is overwhelmed with the sensation of one who is truly trapped against their will, knowing full well that this might be the very last moments of her precious life, just another anecdote in the tabloids of a promising abruptly starlet disappearing from the spotlight, never to be seen again.
Suddenly, she hears a dull thud, the sound of a mechanical latch being undone just outside the door. She turns her head toward the sound, noting the sunken doorframe she had failed to notice in her panicked state. Her desperation takes hold of her.
“I’M IN HERE!!” she screams, hoping with all her might that someone passing by had just happened to hear her cries for help. “PLEASE HELP ME!!” Straining to turn herself around, fighting against the bonds that just will not budge, she watches as the heavyset door slowly creaks open, making out a faint light entering from the hallway outside. However, not three inches are opened before she is encased in shadow, as eclipsing that glimmer of hope is the figure of a young man, a devious smile scrawled across his face.
“Oh my, look what I found!” he gleefully states, reminiscent of a young child discovering a secret hideaway. He closes the door behind him, reaching behind to latch a makeshift lock haphazardly installed in the interior. He approaches the distraught starlet, leering over her helpless body, taking in the entirety of her bondage as though to savor it. Sabrina, in such a helpless state, relinquishes all hopes of rescue to this unknown figure, blindly clinging to the thought of him being her rescuer.
“Please help me!” she begs, thrusting her wrists towards him, kicking her ankles in desperate attempt to get the stranger’s attention. “Please, I don’t know how I got here, but you got to help me quick! Whoever did this…they’re going to come back here, please!!” Tears begin to collect at the sides of her doughy eyes, believing in full force the man had merely stumbled onto her in a haphazard manner, a stroke of fortune in a most unfortunate ordeal. If only she had the foresight to connect the dots laid in front of her: that he had entered, all by himself, into a locked storage container of which only he had access to, with not even one hint of shock or concern discernable across his entire face, and had subsequently locked himself inside. Had she held her tongue a mere five seconds, she could have put it all together.
“Oh, but I know how you got here!” he explains, kneeling by her side, staring at her distraught face. The palette of color recedes from her face, this guardian angel morphing into the devil in sheep’s clothing right before her very eyes. “That’s right: I brought you here.”
“You…you…why?” she whispers, her meek voice cracking from the discovery she had been begging her captor this entire time. Her lower lip begins to quiver, the very thought of her trusting nature being so easily taken advantage of making her ordeal that much more unbearable.
“Oh Miss Carpenter, I know you were expecting to wake up back in your private suite, a café au lait waiting for you just as your eyes peel open, but…” he dictates, tracing the finger across the strand of rope binding her wrists, flicking it to check its tightness. “Let’s just say: you’re now my guest, and as my guest, you are going to enjoy my brand of hospitality.” She stares in horror, her mouth agape, eyes turned wide as saucers, looking on in terror at the person so sadistic as to put her in this position. She notes his pleasure, practically salivating over the delectable taste of fear he can see in her eyes. The fabric of her shirt vibrates from the frantic pace of her heartbeat as, with frightful attention, she listens to him without interruption.
“You’d be surprised just how difficult it can be getting a job in a five-star hotel on such short notice: background checks, drug screenings, questionnaires, you’d think you were applying for the CIA or something. Guess it all fits, giving the high-profile clientele they must service, best not risk having some weirdos interacting with them. So you’ll understand my delight in discovering the comparatively laxed screening process for a job on the kitchen staff: just a driver’s license and a signature on a nondisclosure agreement, and you’re in.”
He raises himself, slowly making his way around the large piece of furniture, sadistically tracing his fingers across the frictionless fabric, a predator circling his prey. She cannot help but follow him with her eyes, the tantalizing details of his story too terrifying to bear, but far too valuable to overlook.
“Even so, it seems like a lot of hoopla for such a meager paycheck. I get the need for discretion, but it’s a bit much don’t you think? It’s not like someone would actually use this meager position to their advantage, am I right? That someone could stalk the subject of their deepest fantasies, say, a young starlet like yourself, to their establishment, get a job in the kitchen, slip a powerful sedative into their love’s food when they take up her order, only to whisk her away under their delivery tray through the back entrance, into the dead of night…am I right?” The suspense is too much to bear, building up inside of her only to explode in a wave of unbridled panic.
“Please don’t hurt me!” she squeals a plea to her captor, hoping to be saved from whatever this unknown lunatic has in store for her. The possibilities that await her under his control swim around her stricken mind, throwing her into a maelstrom of fright. “I’ll give you anything you want! Just please don’t hurt me!”
“I’m sorry Sabby,” he says, placing a small wooden stool just before her, facing her at eyelevel. “But there’s just something I’ve always wanted to do…with you. Something that I’ve dreamt of doing for so long, and just ogling your image behind a computer screen isn’t helping.” Without a hint of remorse in his voice, he tells her.
“I’m going to tickle you.”
She glares into his eyes, piercing deep into the pit of his soul, finding nothing but the darkness as those sadistic words fall from his perverted lips. She breaks out of her paralysis, thrashing against her bonds like a wildcat, grunting and growling with reinvigorated fervor. Thrusting her waist from its soft padding, muscles bulging as she tries to rip through the thick strands of rope, she falls flat after a full minute of struggling, her efforts having but left a few marks where the rope chafed against the green fabric.
“LET ME OUT!!” she bellows at the ceiling, unable to direct her wrath at his person, for fear of betraying the frightened little girl she is hiding at this very moment. Sabrina, in her pitiful state, is hiding a most well-guarded secret: that she is hyper ticklish across every inch of her body, and that the depths of her hatred towards being tickled knows no bounds. Such a detail has only come up few times in her life, the result being a swift punch in the jaw or knee in the groin towards those who dare invade her sacred personal space. In this restrained position, the entirety of her flesh open for business, there was no telling just how her captor would exploit it all. She could only hold solace in the fact that her shoes were still in place, knowing that if there were even the chance of her feet being tickled, then she was absolutely screwed.
“Best save your energy, my darling,” he assures her, caressing her moistened cheek with the back of his hand. She snaps at it with her teeth, ready to detach all his fingers to save herself from them raking across her tender flesh. “Ooh, I love it! The feisty ones are always most fun, but they tire out the quickest. I suggest you try and let the fun last.”
He takes the seat, dragging it to the end of the couch, its wooden legs scraping harshly against the concrete floor. He places it precariously adjacent to her bound ankles, gazing upon her size six feet nestled in her flats, surely salivating over what they have in store for him. Seating himself before her vulnerable shoed feet, grazing the tip of his finger down their size six rubber soul, he grasps the side of her left shoe, attempting to forcefully pry it off her feet.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!! RRRRRRMPH!!” she shouts, securing her left shoe behind her right, lodging it securely in place. There was no way she was going to relinquish her last line of defense to this dastardly figure, regardless of the consequences.
“Is someone being a tad bit difficult?” he asks patronizingly, shoving his arm between the two, separating them as to force her left foot to fend for itself. “There, that’s better.”
“MMMPH!! GET…OFF…ME!!” she grunts, pressing her clenched toes against the felt sole, attempting to keep her last shred of protection. Suddenly, she feels a horrid sensation down at her feet, one which she had been attempting to postpone for as long as possible. Unclamping her eyelids, she peers to the end of the couch, only to find her deranged captor grazing his fingertips over the exposed portion of her left foot, tickling her much to her chagrin. Though merely an irritation at first, it swiftly builds to an uncontrollable sensation, meant to distract her long enough to pry to footwear from her person.
“Tickle tickle tickle,” he repeats over and over, his pace slowly becoming faster. Desperately she fights him, trying to maintain her composure, her clenching and unclenching toes tiring as her self-control slowly begins to slip away. She had never expected, even in such a position, having her fate be decided by her own failing resilience, the inability to keep her shoe on her foot ultimately securing her fate. Little does she know her captor’s propensity for physiological manipulation, using her body against her to satisfy his own ends, and for the time being, it’s working.
“RRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUGH!!” she lets out one final grouse as her left shoe is pried off her foot, thrust halfway across the room. In a protective response, she presses her naked sole across the top of her right foot, futile as it may be.
“Now are we going to have to do this the hard way?” he goads her, wriggling his fingers toward the exposed flesh she can do nothing to avoid. She turns herself away, unable to bear witness to whatever methods he will use to coax the other shoe off. She begins breathing frantically, preparing herself for the inevitable moment he will pounce.
“You asked for it missy,” he touts, thrusting his nails deep into the sole of her left foot. Grabbing her by the big toe, prying her left foot from the other, he ravages its tender underside, the pure sadistic nature of it all much to her vexation. She goes berserk, thrashing her head side to side, her strained cackles filling his ears like sweet melody.
“AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GO AWAY!!” she screams in frustration, attempting to place her foot back in its shielded state to no avail. Her eyes again clamped shut, the sides of her mouth wide apart in forced mirth, she can do nothing but suffer under his relentless fingers, skittering their way up to the ball of her left foot.
“I’ll only stop if you give it to me,” he spouts, having the audacity to hand her such a dastardly ultimatum. She can’t believe her ears: that in order to be relieved from her current torments, possibly preparing herself for those even more horrible, she must relinquish her last vestige of protection, condoning his perversion if only for a moment of repose. “Just tell me when and it will all be over!”
The strain of it all, a fragile young mind ravaged by a ruthless tormentor’s tickling fingers attempting to balance all her limited options, is gradually pushing her to the brink of madness, wishing to only lessen the burden if only momentarily. Scraping his way into her tender heel, what last sliver of sanity she is holding onto is slowly sliding out of her grasp. Finally, after several agonizing moments of frantic contemplation, she gives in.
WAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! JUST TAKE IT OFF!!” she commands, relaxing her right foot only long enough for the shoe to be flung across the room just like the other. He stops tickling her, a few precious moments for Sabrina to catch a few well-needed breaths.
“There, that’s a good girl,” he reassures her, his childish tone becoming that much more demeaning. Sabrina blushes, a combination of anger and helplessness resulting in her milky white cheeks turning a dark hint of red. Her freshly pedicured feet now fully exposed, their orange nail polish glistening in the pale-yellow light, she is hit with the brunt of her dilemma. She has found herself in a position of utter helplessness, where submission seems to be her only key to salvation. Now, all that is standing between her and the torments that follow are her willingness to relinquish control, to give in to her captor’s demands no matter how horrible they may be, for as this base individual will slowly instill upon her, there is always room for it to get worse, much worse.
“You’re very ticklish, aren’t you Sabrina?” he taunts her, gazing upon her supple soles, visually drawing out every spot he will devastate in mere moments.
“FUCK YOU!!” she shouts, expelling the very last ounce of defiance she will possess for the remainder of her torments.
“You asked for it girlie,” he says, thrusting his nails deep into the flesh of her soles. A glass-shattering scream escapes her gullet, his fingers touching nerves that were never meant to be excited in such a manner.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!! WAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!” she shrieks, surely being heard three towns over through such force. “MERCYYYYYYYYYYYY!!” She attempts to search for pity, for some indication of humanity in this husk of a human being, unable to secure one iota of it from this deranged man. As one hand scrapes across her tender heels, the second makes its way underneath her toes, digging into the crevices just below their pads. Such a sensation drives her earth-trembling cries up another notch.
“Admit it! Say you’re ticklish!” he asks her, shouting over the infrequent gaps between her piercing screams and primal cackles. “Say you’re ticklish and it’ll all be over!” Slowly she is falling into his psychological trap, conditioned to accept his commands as they come, no matter how degrading they may turn out to be.
“IHEHEHEHEHEHEM TICKLISH!!” she recites, parroting his every command as obediently as a disheveled woman can. The desperation in her voice can be heard, whatever she can do to lessen her suffering she is now willing to follow. Such a process is nothing less than dehumanizing, stripping her of all personality, leaving only her obedience as her most important character trait. “I HAVE TICKLISH FEET!! PLEASE STOP!!”
“Good girl!” he exclaims, releasing his fingers from her flesh, now a slight tint of pink from his vigorous tickling. “You see how much easier this is when you do everything I say?” She can only gasp in agony, the hoarse tone of her voice demonstrating the extent of her suffering.
“You’d love nothing more than to stay here forever, am I right?” he asks forcefully, prompting Sabrina merely to nod her head in confirmation, believing she has not one ounce of energy left in her to vocalize even a whisper. “That’s what I thought, dear.”
“Now, it’s time to break you,” he says, wielding a small feather from his back pocket. Its strands firm, its quill sharp, he slowly begins inching it towards Sabrina’s helpless toes. Reflexively scrunching them, he grabs the ball of her left foot, fanning all five of them open to do his work. A subtle whimper escapes her, having been reduced to a pathetic tickle pet for him to play with as, looking on through tear-drenched eyes, she watches the feather begin scraping its way between her toes.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!!” she screams, her energy rejuvenated the same as it was during the first few moments of her ordeal.
“You love this Sabby, I know you do!” he calls out, grazing the dastardly implement between each and every one of her toes, the force of her laughter increasing with each one. Swapping between her left and right, not leaving her toes for a second, he extracts the most ungodly of reactions from the poor creature, her frantic struggles syphoned away leaving her a paralyzed heap atop to couch.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA GET IT OUT!!!” she wails at the top of her lungs, reduced to nothing more than a shriveling music box, a toy for his amusement. Just how much longer she can deal, slowly fading out of consciousness, she hasn’t the slightest clue.
“Say you love it!” he yells out, the feather now sawing between the smallest toes on her left foot. She is astounded: the mere thought of admitting something driving her livid.
“IHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE CAN’T!! I CAN’T!!” she attempts to persuade him, frantically trying to balance the mind-numbing torment upon her supple toes with the agonizing mental manipulation she has to deal with. It takes someone with a demonic evil to force their captive to admit their desire for torment, but to have it be done in the midst of it all was insanity.
“Say you love it and it will stop!”
She doesn’t believe him, knowing full well this is merely another trap she is falling into, ensnaring her within a game to satisfy his desire. She knows the minute she gives in to him, it will be the last shred of independence she has left. Yet, her brain slowly liquefying, reducing her cognition to tatters through her torments, she cannot help but reach for the lie, hoping this will ultimately save her from even one fragment of torture.
“Say it!” he calls, grabbing her right foot to resume her torments, positioning the feather right between her second and third toes, the worst of her tickle spots by far.
“I LOVE IT!!” she yells out, a crack in her voice proving to be the only thing keeping her sane. “I LOVE IT!! I LOVE IT!!” She has finally given in.
“Who’s in there?” a voice calls from the corridor, the man swiftly turning as he sees a figure standing just underneath the doorframe. Swiftly he picks himself up, unlocking the door as he bolts it, running out as the same voice calls to him.
“What the hell is going on here?!” Sabrina turns her head to see the custodian, clad in her grey jumpsuit, standing in the doorway, a perplexed look on her face.
She breaks down in uncontrollable tears, drenching the fabric over what has amounted to three hours of ruthless tickle torture.
“He took me, from my hotel,” she sputters, coughing as she attempts to regain some oxygen she was not allowed to indulge in. “He’s been tickling me for hours, making me tell him how much I love it, how ticklish I am, oh it was horrible!”
“Really?” the custodian asks, an inquisitive tone in her voice. “So nobody knows where you are?”
“No!” Sabrina barks, not understanding why she is still bound to the couch, having supposedly been rescued by now. “Could you please just untie me already?! I need to call the police!”
“Okay girlie, I understand,” she answers, reaching behind her, pulling out a pair of scissors from her belt. Sabrina sighs a breath of relief, knowing for sure she has finally been rescued. “But since you’re already here…” She pulls out a large role of silver duct tape, stretching out a long strand, cutting it off at about six inches.
“What are you do…MMMPH?!” she attempts to ask, the strand of tape being thrust over her lips, pursing them together as the strand is pressed into place. “MMMPH RRRPMPH MMMM?!”
“You know it’s not everyday I find a pretty young girl all tied up like this, primed to do my bidding,” she dictates, seating herself before Sabrina’s bound soles. “I’m sure there are a lot of things you’d be willing to do for me with the right amount of motivation.” It is going to happen again: alone and isolated, far from a cry of salvation, Sabrina is going to be subject to torments beyond reason, for as long as her captor wishes and, by the saliva she is licking from the side of her lips, may be quite a long time. She takes the conveniently left behind feather into her hand, menacingly twirling it between her thumb and index finger, the same wicked smile scrawled across her face as was his. She begins directing it into the toes of Sabrina, her distraught eyes locked onto hers.
“Let’s see what that could be, shall we?”
The End
She had a nagging feeling something was amiss, but she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it. However, lost in the warm embrace of a long night’s sleep, she just kept postponing that very moment further and further. Maybe it was the soft sheen of the surrounding light, several shades lower than the radiant sunrise she had expected to rouse her that morning. Maybe it was the faint aroma of collecting dust, a stark anomaly given the cleanliness five-star hotels usually pride themselves in. Maybe it was her shoes, unconsciously wriggling her toes to find her flats still nestled on her feet, a strange misstep for her to leave them on before going to bed the night before. Or just maybe it was that moment when, upon attempting to turn herself over for just five more minutes of bedrest, she found herself completely incapable of doing so.
As Sabrina Carpenter abruptly awakens, stirring herself from a long and unexpected hibernation, she is confronted by the most horrifying sight of her life.
She is bound, stretched taut across a large padded couch, its plush material underneath a thin layer of green felt. Struggling to free herself, she finds her wrists tied above her head, bound tight with thick nylon rope. Its length extending out of sight, she can see its long white material wrap around the arm of the loveseat above. As she glances down her person she catches glimpse of her ankles, perched atop the arm adjacent, bound together with the same rope. She pulls them toward her, noting the tightness of her bondage keeping her feet completely stationary. With both strands keeping her stretched to her absolute limit, not one inch of slack for her to hold onto, she is left completely immobilized, the length of her petite figure barely able to fill the seat.
She is clad in her white tank top and blue jean shorts, the same that she found herself stripping down to the very night previous, assuring her that it had been of unnatural circumstances that forced her to doze off roughly twelve hours prior. She gazes up at the single fluorescent bulb, hanging precariously from a single electrical strand protruding from the ceiling, its sheen barely able to illuminate the spruce walls that surround her. She can only glean through her limited vision that she has been taken to some type of storage facility, a detail hardly of importance as of now. All that truly matters now is the realization that she is trapped, in unfamiliar surroundings, and that there is no way of letting any of her loved ones know where she may be.
“He…he…HELP!! HELP ME!!” she attempts to call out, the panic of her situation stifling her call but momentarily. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” She jerks at her bonds once more, reminding herself of their formidable design. Despite such a strain on her delicate voice, she finds her frantic cries falling on deaf ears: the thick wooden walls absorb much of the sound, their porous material acting as natural soundproofing, not letting one frequency escape the enclosed space. She calls out again, not even the echo from her own voice to keep her company. It is at this point that a wash of panic consumes the creature, the realization she knows nothing of where she is or who could have brought her here. Her breathing turned frantic, she is overwhelmed with the sensation of one who is truly trapped against their will, knowing full well that this might be the very last moments of her precious life, just another anecdote in the tabloids of a promising abruptly starlet disappearing from the spotlight, never to be seen again.
Suddenly, she hears a dull thud, the sound of a mechanical latch being undone just outside the door. She turns her head toward the sound, noting the sunken doorframe she had failed to notice in her panicked state. Her desperation takes hold of her.
“I’M IN HERE!!” she screams, hoping with all her might that someone passing by had just happened to hear her cries for help. “PLEASE HELP ME!!” Straining to turn herself around, fighting against the bonds that just will not budge, she watches as the heavyset door slowly creaks open, making out a faint light entering from the hallway outside. However, not three inches are opened before she is encased in shadow, as eclipsing that glimmer of hope is the figure of a young man, a devious smile scrawled across his face.
“Oh my, look what I found!” he gleefully states, reminiscent of a young child discovering a secret hideaway. He closes the door behind him, reaching behind to latch a makeshift lock haphazardly installed in the interior. He approaches the distraught starlet, leering over her helpless body, taking in the entirety of her bondage as though to savor it. Sabrina, in such a helpless state, relinquishes all hopes of rescue to this unknown figure, blindly clinging to the thought of him being her rescuer.
“Please help me!” she begs, thrusting her wrists towards him, kicking her ankles in desperate attempt to get the stranger’s attention. “Please, I don’t know how I got here, but you got to help me quick! Whoever did this…they’re going to come back here, please!!” Tears begin to collect at the sides of her doughy eyes, believing in full force the man had merely stumbled onto her in a haphazard manner, a stroke of fortune in a most unfortunate ordeal. If only she had the foresight to connect the dots laid in front of her: that he had entered, all by himself, into a locked storage container of which only he had access to, with not even one hint of shock or concern discernable across his entire face, and had subsequently locked himself inside. Had she held her tongue a mere five seconds, she could have put it all together.
“Oh, but I know how you got here!” he explains, kneeling by her side, staring at her distraught face. The palette of color recedes from her face, this guardian angel morphing into the devil in sheep’s clothing right before her very eyes. “That’s right: I brought you here.”
“You…you…why?” she whispers, her meek voice cracking from the discovery she had been begging her captor this entire time. Her lower lip begins to quiver, the very thought of her trusting nature being so easily taken advantage of making her ordeal that much more unbearable.
“Oh Miss Carpenter, I know you were expecting to wake up back in your private suite, a café au lait waiting for you just as your eyes peel open, but…” he dictates, tracing the finger across the strand of rope binding her wrists, flicking it to check its tightness. “Let’s just say: you’re now my guest, and as my guest, you are going to enjoy my brand of hospitality.” She stares in horror, her mouth agape, eyes turned wide as saucers, looking on in terror at the person so sadistic as to put her in this position. She notes his pleasure, practically salivating over the delectable taste of fear he can see in her eyes. The fabric of her shirt vibrates from the frantic pace of her heartbeat as, with frightful attention, she listens to him without interruption.
“You’d be surprised just how difficult it can be getting a job in a five-star hotel on such short notice: background checks, drug screenings, questionnaires, you’d think you were applying for the CIA or something. Guess it all fits, giving the high-profile clientele they must service, best not risk having some weirdos interacting with them. So you’ll understand my delight in discovering the comparatively laxed screening process for a job on the kitchen staff: just a driver’s license and a signature on a nondisclosure agreement, and you’re in.”
He raises himself, slowly making his way around the large piece of furniture, sadistically tracing his fingers across the frictionless fabric, a predator circling his prey. She cannot help but follow him with her eyes, the tantalizing details of his story too terrifying to bear, but far too valuable to overlook.
“Even so, it seems like a lot of hoopla for such a meager paycheck. I get the need for discretion, but it’s a bit much don’t you think? It’s not like someone would actually use this meager position to their advantage, am I right? That someone could stalk the subject of their deepest fantasies, say, a young starlet like yourself, to their establishment, get a job in the kitchen, slip a powerful sedative into their love’s food when they take up her order, only to whisk her away under their delivery tray through the back entrance, into the dead of night…am I right?” The suspense is too much to bear, building up inside of her only to explode in a wave of unbridled panic.
“Please don’t hurt me!” she squeals a plea to her captor, hoping to be saved from whatever this unknown lunatic has in store for her. The possibilities that await her under his control swim around her stricken mind, throwing her into a maelstrom of fright. “I’ll give you anything you want! Just please don’t hurt me!”
“I’m sorry Sabby,” he says, placing a small wooden stool just before her, facing her at eyelevel. “But there’s just something I’ve always wanted to do…with you. Something that I’ve dreamt of doing for so long, and just ogling your image behind a computer screen isn’t helping.” Without a hint of remorse in his voice, he tells her.
“I’m going to tickle you.”
She glares into his eyes, piercing deep into the pit of his soul, finding nothing but the darkness as those sadistic words fall from his perverted lips. She breaks out of her paralysis, thrashing against her bonds like a wildcat, grunting and growling with reinvigorated fervor. Thrusting her waist from its soft padding, muscles bulging as she tries to rip through the thick strands of rope, she falls flat after a full minute of struggling, her efforts having but left a few marks where the rope chafed against the green fabric.
“LET ME OUT!!” she bellows at the ceiling, unable to direct her wrath at his person, for fear of betraying the frightened little girl she is hiding at this very moment. Sabrina, in her pitiful state, is hiding a most well-guarded secret: that she is hyper ticklish across every inch of her body, and that the depths of her hatred towards being tickled knows no bounds. Such a detail has only come up few times in her life, the result being a swift punch in the jaw or knee in the groin towards those who dare invade her sacred personal space. In this restrained position, the entirety of her flesh open for business, there was no telling just how her captor would exploit it all. She could only hold solace in the fact that her shoes were still in place, knowing that if there were even the chance of her feet being tickled, then she was absolutely screwed.
“Best save your energy, my darling,” he assures her, caressing her moistened cheek with the back of his hand. She snaps at it with her teeth, ready to detach all his fingers to save herself from them raking across her tender flesh. “Ooh, I love it! The feisty ones are always most fun, but they tire out the quickest. I suggest you try and let the fun last.”
He takes the seat, dragging it to the end of the couch, its wooden legs scraping harshly against the concrete floor. He places it precariously adjacent to her bound ankles, gazing upon her size six feet nestled in her flats, surely salivating over what they have in store for him. Seating himself before her vulnerable shoed feet, grazing the tip of his finger down their size six rubber soul, he grasps the side of her left shoe, attempting to forcefully pry it off her feet.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!! RRRRRRMPH!!” she shouts, securing her left shoe behind her right, lodging it securely in place. There was no way she was going to relinquish her last line of defense to this dastardly figure, regardless of the consequences.
“Is someone being a tad bit difficult?” he asks patronizingly, shoving his arm between the two, separating them as to force her left foot to fend for itself. “There, that’s better.”
“MMMPH!! GET…OFF…ME!!” she grunts, pressing her clenched toes against the felt sole, attempting to keep her last shred of protection. Suddenly, she feels a horrid sensation down at her feet, one which she had been attempting to postpone for as long as possible. Unclamping her eyelids, she peers to the end of the couch, only to find her deranged captor grazing his fingertips over the exposed portion of her left foot, tickling her much to her chagrin. Though merely an irritation at first, it swiftly builds to an uncontrollable sensation, meant to distract her long enough to pry to footwear from her person.
“Tickle tickle tickle,” he repeats over and over, his pace slowly becoming faster. Desperately she fights him, trying to maintain her composure, her clenching and unclenching toes tiring as her self-control slowly begins to slip away. She had never expected, even in such a position, having her fate be decided by her own failing resilience, the inability to keep her shoe on her foot ultimately securing her fate. Little does she know her captor’s propensity for physiological manipulation, using her body against her to satisfy his own ends, and for the time being, it’s working.
“RRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUGH!!” she lets out one final grouse as her left shoe is pried off her foot, thrust halfway across the room. In a protective response, she presses her naked sole across the top of her right foot, futile as it may be.
“Now are we going to have to do this the hard way?” he goads her, wriggling his fingers toward the exposed flesh she can do nothing to avoid. She turns herself away, unable to bear witness to whatever methods he will use to coax the other shoe off. She begins breathing frantically, preparing herself for the inevitable moment he will pounce.
“You asked for it missy,” he touts, thrusting his nails deep into the sole of her left foot. Grabbing her by the big toe, prying her left foot from the other, he ravages its tender underside, the pure sadistic nature of it all much to her vexation. She goes berserk, thrashing her head side to side, her strained cackles filling his ears like sweet melody.
“AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GO AWAY!!” she screams in frustration, attempting to place her foot back in its shielded state to no avail. Her eyes again clamped shut, the sides of her mouth wide apart in forced mirth, she can do nothing but suffer under his relentless fingers, skittering their way up to the ball of her left foot.
“I’ll only stop if you give it to me,” he spouts, having the audacity to hand her such a dastardly ultimatum. She can’t believe her ears: that in order to be relieved from her current torments, possibly preparing herself for those even more horrible, she must relinquish her last vestige of protection, condoning his perversion if only for a moment of repose. “Just tell me when and it will all be over!”
The strain of it all, a fragile young mind ravaged by a ruthless tormentor’s tickling fingers attempting to balance all her limited options, is gradually pushing her to the brink of madness, wishing to only lessen the burden if only momentarily. Scraping his way into her tender heel, what last sliver of sanity she is holding onto is slowly sliding out of her grasp. Finally, after several agonizing moments of frantic contemplation, she gives in.
WAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! JUST TAKE IT OFF!!” she commands, relaxing her right foot only long enough for the shoe to be flung across the room just like the other. He stops tickling her, a few precious moments for Sabrina to catch a few well-needed breaths.
“There, that’s a good girl,” he reassures her, his childish tone becoming that much more demeaning. Sabrina blushes, a combination of anger and helplessness resulting in her milky white cheeks turning a dark hint of red. Her freshly pedicured feet now fully exposed, their orange nail polish glistening in the pale-yellow light, she is hit with the brunt of her dilemma. She has found herself in a position of utter helplessness, where submission seems to be her only key to salvation. Now, all that is standing between her and the torments that follow are her willingness to relinquish control, to give in to her captor’s demands no matter how horrible they may be, for as this base individual will slowly instill upon her, there is always room for it to get worse, much worse.
“You’re very ticklish, aren’t you Sabrina?” he taunts her, gazing upon her supple soles, visually drawing out every spot he will devastate in mere moments.
“FUCK YOU!!” she shouts, expelling the very last ounce of defiance she will possess for the remainder of her torments.
“You asked for it girlie,” he says, thrusting his nails deep into the flesh of her soles. A glass-shattering scream escapes her gullet, his fingers touching nerves that were never meant to be excited in such a manner.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!! WAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!” she shrieks, surely being heard three towns over through such force. “MERCYYYYYYYYYYYY!!” She attempts to search for pity, for some indication of humanity in this husk of a human being, unable to secure one iota of it from this deranged man. As one hand scrapes across her tender heels, the second makes its way underneath her toes, digging into the crevices just below their pads. Such a sensation drives her earth-trembling cries up another notch.
“Admit it! Say you’re ticklish!” he asks her, shouting over the infrequent gaps between her piercing screams and primal cackles. “Say you’re ticklish and it’ll all be over!” Slowly she is falling into his psychological trap, conditioned to accept his commands as they come, no matter how degrading they may turn out to be.
“IHEHEHEHEHEHEM TICKLISH!!” she recites, parroting his every command as obediently as a disheveled woman can. The desperation in her voice can be heard, whatever she can do to lessen her suffering she is now willing to follow. Such a process is nothing less than dehumanizing, stripping her of all personality, leaving only her obedience as her most important character trait. “I HAVE TICKLISH FEET!! PLEASE STOP!!”
“Good girl!” he exclaims, releasing his fingers from her flesh, now a slight tint of pink from his vigorous tickling. “You see how much easier this is when you do everything I say?” She can only gasp in agony, the hoarse tone of her voice demonstrating the extent of her suffering.
“You’d love nothing more than to stay here forever, am I right?” he asks forcefully, prompting Sabrina merely to nod her head in confirmation, believing she has not one ounce of energy left in her to vocalize even a whisper. “That’s what I thought, dear.”
“Now, it’s time to break you,” he says, wielding a small feather from his back pocket. Its strands firm, its quill sharp, he slowly begins inching it towards Sabrina’s helpless toes. Reflexively scrunching them, he grabs the ball of her left foot, fanning all five of them open to do his work. A subtle whimper escapes her, having been reduced to a pathetic tickle pet for him to play with as, looking on through tear-drenched eyes, she watches the feather begin scraping its way between her toes.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!!” she screams, her energy rejuvenated the same as it was during the first few moments of her ordeal.
“You love this Sabby, I know you do!” he calls out, grazing the dastardly implement between each and every one of her toes, the force of her laughter increasing with each one. Swapping between her left and right, not leaving her toes for a second, he extracts the most ungodly of reactions from the poor creature, her frantic struggles syphoned away leaving her a paralyzed heap atop to couch.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA GET IT OUT!!!” she wails at the top of her lungs, reduced to nothing more than a shriveling music box, a toy for his amusement. Just how much longer she can deal, slowly fading out of consciousness, she hasn’t the slightest clue.
“Say you love it!” he yells out, the feather now sawing between the smallest toes on her left foot. She is astounded: the mere thought of admitting something driving her livid.
“IHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE CAN’T!! I CAN’T!!” she attempts to persuade him, frantically trying to balance the mind-numbing torment upon her supple toes with the agonizing mental manipulation she has to deal with. It takes someone with a demonic evil to force their captive to admit their desire for torment, but to have it be done in the midst of it all was insanity.
“Say you love it and it will stop!”
She doesn’t believe him, knowing full well this is merely another trap she is falling into, ensnaring her within a game to satisfy his desire. She knows the minute she gives in to him, it will be the last shred of independence she has left. Yet, her brain slowly liquefying, reducing her cognition to tatters through her torments, she cannot help but reach for the lie, hoping this will ultimately save her from even one fragment of torture.
“Say it!” he calls, grabbing her right foot to resume her torments, positioning the feather right between her second and third toes, the worst of her tickle spots by far.
“I LOVE IT!!” she yells out, a crack in her voice proving to be the only thing keeping her sane. “I LOVE IT!! I LOVE IT!!” She has finally given in.
“Who’s in there?” a voice calls from the corridor, the man swiftly turning as he sees a figure standing just underneath the doorframe. Swiftly he picks himself up, unlocking the door as he bolts it, running out as the same voice calls to him.
“What the hell is going on here?!” Sabrina turns her head to see the custodian, clad in her grey jumpsuit, standing in the doorway, a perplexed look on her face.
She breaks down in uncontrollable tears, drenching the fabric over what has amounted to three hours of ruthless tickle torture.
“He took me, from my hotel,” she sputters, coughing as she attempts to regain some oxygen she was not allowed to indulge in. “He’s been tickling me for hours, making me tell him how much I love it, how ticklish I am, oh it was horrible!”
“Really?” the custodian asks, an inquisitive tone in her voice. “So nobody knows where you are?”
“No!” Sabrina barks, not understanding why she is still bound to the couch, having supposedly been rescued by now. “Could you please just untie me already?! I need to call the police!”
“Okay girlie, I understand,” she answers, reaching behind her, pulling out a pair of scissors from her belt. Sabrina sighs a breath of relief, knowing for sure she has finally been rescued. “But since you’re already here…” She pulls out a large role of silver duct tape, stretching out a long strand, cutting it off at about six inches.
“What are you do…MMMPH?!” she attempts to ask, the strand of tape being thrust over her lips, pursing them together as the strand is pressed into place. “MMMPH RRRPMPH MMMM?!”
“You know it’s not everyday I find a pretty young girl all tied up like this, primed to do my bidding,” she dictates, seating herself before Sabrina’s bound soles. “I’m sure there are a lot of things you’d be willing to do for me with the right amount of motivation.” It is going to happen again: alone and isolated, far from a cry of salvation, Sabrina is going to be subject to torments beyond reason, for as long as her captor wishes and, by the saliva she is licking from the side of her lips, may be quite a long time. She takes the conveniently left behind feather into her hand, menacingly twirling it between her thumb and index finger, the same wicked smile scrawled across her face as was his. She begins directing it into the toes of Sabrina, her distraught eyes locked onto hers.
“Let’s see what that could be, shall we?”
The End
