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The Nylon Dungeon: Gina

MTJpub

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The Nylon Dungeon: Gina
By Daumantas

Gina poured herself a full cup of coffee from the coffeemaker, and dumped a spoonful of sugar in it. It would feel good to relax a little before going out that night. It was about 5 p.m., a good time, she thought, to get home on a Friday afternoon.

She carried her coffee toward the living room of her apartment, kicking off her shoes to expose her beige-stockinged feet. She tried to dress professionally for work -- it was only an internship, and she had a few more college courses to take, but she hoped that the job would turn into a permanent position with the company. It wasn't a paid internship, but that was OK -- Daddy, dear indulgent Daddy, would surely continue to pay for her apartment and living expenses for her, and with her stunning Italian-American features, she had no shortage of dates willing to pay for a night's entertainment. Her preference in men revolved around those who, as the saying went, gave good credit card.

As she sat down on the sofa, she noticed the light flashing on her answering machine. She flicked the replay button. No actual message -- just a moment of silence, followed by a dial tone. A telemarketer, probably. At least it wasn't Dan again. She couldn't seem to get Dan to take no for an answer. She had met him in one of her classes at the college, and being a flirt by nature, she had struck up a conversation with him. She lost interest, though, when she found out he apparently had no money, no job, and was majoring in psychology, for crying out loud. But he had gotten her number and kept calling her, practically begging her to go out with him. He was a nice enough guy, she thought, but she knew she could do better than that. Sooner or later, he would just have to get the message.

She put her coffee down on the end table and shut her eyes. She barely noticed a faint hissing noise, but her eyes opened when, for some odd reason, she noticed a strong odor like cinnamon. Then everything went black.

Gina woke slowly, with a slight sense of nausea -- did the coffee make her sick? She didn't remember drinking it. She didn't remember dozing off on the sofa, either. She tried to move her hand to rub her eyes, and felt an odd sense of restraint on her right wrist. As she began to focus, she felt a hard surface, not like her sofa, beneath her. She twisted her head about in confusion as she began to realize that she was no longer in her apartment -- she was in a concrete-lined room, lying on the floor. She tried again to rub her eyes, but could not. She looked down at her arms -- and gasped in horror as she discovered that her wrists were handcuffed behind her back. A short chain running from the handcuffs was attached to an eyebolt in the floor. Manacles were attached to her ankles, linked together by a short chain and also attached to an eyebolt by another chain. A chain running from a third eyebolt was attached to a leather collar around her neck.

Before the confused and horrified girl could get her bearings, the single door to the room opened -- and a familiar figure entered.

"DAN!" she shrieked.

"Hello, Gina," he said calmly. "Welcome to the Nylon Dungeon."

"The...Nylon....Dan, is this your idea of a joke?"

"No joke," he said. "I've been invited to join the Dungeon keepers by an older cousin. I'm sure you'll get to meet him before very long. He figured my studies of psychology would come in handy here."

"You'd better let me go!" she cried. "You'll be in big trouble, Dan, and I mean it!"

Dan laughed aloud at this. "You're the one who's in big trouble. Daddy can't help you now. No one will help you now." He walked over to the prostrate, struggling form on the floor. "All I ever wanted was for you to be my girl. But I wasn't good enough for you, was I? Well, technically, you're still not entirely mine -- you belong to the Nylon Dungeon, and I'll have to share you. But you'll be mine in ways that you can't even begin to imagine."

Gina, beginning to realize her predicament, and trying to think of a way out, attempted to be coy, although the quaver in her voice gave her fear away. "You know, Dan, I have to admit this is kind of sexy. Maybe we could...."

"Forget it, Gina," he replied. "Your tactics won't work in here. Save your breath. You're going to need it." With that, he produced a small clear plastic spray bottle, filled with a pinkish liquid, from his coat pocket.

"What are you..." she started to say, but Dan sprayed the Sleeping Agent, with its cinnamon-like odor, into her face, and she fell into unconsciousness.

As the cloud of fogginess and nausea began to lift, Gina hoped that the whole experience - awakening to discover herself bound, and Dan, and what he had said -- had only been some kind of bizarre nightmare. Her hope quickly soured with the discovery of her inability to move.

She was sitting upright, her back against a vertical square wooden pole, in another, similar room. She was seated on a small, flat wooden seat attached to the pole. Her hands were cuffed behind the pole. Her stockinged ankles were drawn behind her, and manacled together, also behind the pole. Leather straps encircled her body above and below her breasts, and were wound around her arms, further binding her to the pole. The leather collar was still around her neck, this time attached closely to an eyebolt behind her head.

She had barely enough time to test her bonds, and find that escape was not an option, before Dan entered the room.

"Hello, Gina." He smiled.

"Dan, please let me go," she pleaded. "I won't tell anyone about this, I promise. Just let me go..."

"No, I think I like you better here. Besides, it isn't really my decision to make. You belong to the Nylon Dungeon now."

"You're insane!"

Dan pretended to muse on this comment. "I'll have to check one of my textbooks for some more information on that," he said. "Psychology is my specialty, after all. See, Gina, the Dungeon keepers - or most of them, anyway - have their own specialties. There's a few brilliant chemists here. They developed that Sleeping Agent. Pretty potent, don't you think, and without the side effects of chloroform." He broke into a chuckle. "They've come up with a few other inventions, too, as you'll find out shortly."

Gina didn't like the sound of that. "What is this all about? What's going on?" she said, growing tearful.

"The Nylon Dungeon is run by several associates of mine, including that older cousin I was telling you about. We collect beautiful women and bring them here for our amusement. You're going to be kept here permanently, as our plaything, and tickle tortured." His eyes filled with dark pleasure as he watched Gina's growing horror.

"What do you mean, tickle tortured?" she finally asked, in a voice weak with terror, her customary swagger gone.

"I'm referring to those lovely feet of yours," Dan said, circling behind the pole and stroking Gina's beige-stockinged sole. Gina quivered and flinched at the touch. "Ticklish, aren't we?" He snickered. "That's one of the reasons I liked you so much, Gina. Remember the day I poked you in the ribs as we were leaving class?"

She remembered. At the time it had just seemed like a playful, friendly tickle, although she had scolded Dan because she didn't like being tickled. She was intensely ticklish, and flinching while being tickled in the ribs didn't exactly agree with the self-confident image she liked to project. Now the whole thing seemed more ominous.

"I realized then how ticklish you were," he said, "and, more than ever, I thought that we would be great together." He paused. "But you didn't see it that way. Too bad - girlfriends and wives of Dungeon keepers are off limits. You might have spared yourself this."

"Dan, please don't tickle me," she said. "You have no idea how ticklish I am - I can't stand it. Honestly, you just don't know." She began to sob quietly.

"Yes, I do," Dan said. "But the thing is" - he snickered again, cutting himself off. "The thing is, Gina, you're the one who doesn't realize how ticklish you're about to be."

With that, Dan pressed a button on a remote control device he held in his left hand. Two needles descended toward Gina from the ceiling. She shrieked in terror. "What the hell is THAT?" she demanded, her sobs growing louder.

"I was telling you about another invention of our fine chemists," he said. "It's called the Tickling Serum. You may think you're ticklish now, Gina," he said, his snicker bursting into a full laugh, "but you're about to become around 50 or 60 times as ticklish. And it will get worse, every time you're tickled, every place you are touched."

Gina screamed, "No!!! You can't do this! Please!!" She struggled frantically, but the leather collar held her neck firmly, and the needles plunged into her neck. She felt a rush of stimulation through her body, like a million tiny fingers tickling her everywhere. She screamed again, this time with the sheer agony of the sensation, and her scream turned into hysterical, screaming laughter. She gasped and wheezed, fighting for air. She babbled incoherently. Dan laughed aloud with delight. "I always love the initial reaction," he shouted to her.

But she barely comprehended him, so intense was the tickling. After agonizing minutes, she lost consciousness.

Gina lay on her stomach, quivering. She was on a table, in yet a different room. Her hands were still cuffed behind her back. Her ankles were locked into the metal rings bolted to the table, holding her feet directly to the table, with her beige-stockinged soles turned upward. Leather straps bound her to the table, tied around her shoulders, elbows, thighs, and calves. A thick white cloth was stuffed into her mouth, with another white cloth tied around the back of her head holding it in place. She had awakened just minutes ago, to find herself in this new predicament. She groaned, and her eyes welled up with tears, fearfully anticipating what was next in store for her.

Dan entered the room, saying nothing but grinning as he observed Gina. He walked over toward her nyloned feet. She turned around, trying to see him, moaning with protest under her gag and shaking her head "no." But Dan merely grinned at her protests, and began stroking her soles.

She shrieked into her gag as his fingers touched the smooth nylon surfaces. She pulled furiously at the ankle rings, but they held her feet firmly in place. In this position, she could barely even wiggle her toes. Her body shook with hysterical laughter.

Dan worked her over mercilessly, his fingers torturing every nook and cranny of her exposed, stockinged feet. He had become quite adept at tickling in the short time he had been a Dungeon keeper, having practiced on several unwilling captives; he was especially fond of an ex-magician's assistant named Susan. But Gina was the girl he had been practicing for.

She strained desperately at her bonds, but she could move so very little. She could do nothing to protect her helpless feet as Dan's cruel fingers explored and exploited them. After about 20 minutes, her resistance collapsed, and she lay limply in her bonds, wailing miserably into her gag between her spasms of laughter.

Dan decided it was time to place a Mark. But he didn't perform the usual method of simply placing random spots here and there. Instead, Gina noticed, as the Serum produced its effect of making the tickling worsen every time his fingers touched, he seemed to be forming distinct lines...almost like...letters.

Indeed he was. When he was finished, he had stroked onto her left foot, "DAN'S" and onto her right foot, "GIRL." Now, her ticklishness would permanently etch into her soles his name and mark her as his possession. She was his girl in a way that, just hours ago, she could never have imagined, just as he had promised.

Having finished placing his Marks, Dan began rapidly stroking the smooth soles. As the tickling worsened with each stroke, Gina could finally stand it no longer. Screaming into her gag, and with her ability to breathe already restricted, she mercifully passed out.

Dan untied the sodden gag from the unconscious girl's mouth and stroked her silky black hair, now matted with sweat from her ordeal. "Sweet dreams, Gina," he said, chuckling. "You know, I think this is the beginning of a terrific relationship."
 
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