The Big Unknown
Stacy didn’t know how long she had been asleep for. She didn’t know if it was night or day. In fact, she didn’t even know how long she had been here for. The only thing she knew was that she was a captive, always kept nude in stringent bondage, always blindfolded, always gagged, always with earplugs on, and always with a nose filter on.
In this way, she couldn’t escape her captor, couldn’t see her captor, couldn’t call out and beg her captor, couldn’t hear when her captor was around, and couldn’t even smell her captor.
How long ago had she been abducted? She didn’t know. Was her captor male or female? She didn’t know. Was she even in her own city, in her own country? She didn’t know. The only thing she knew was that she was nothing more than a plaything for her captor, her flesh nothing more than a canvas for her captor to use for his or her own pleasure.
Indeed, ever since her abduction, Stacy had known only two sensations that her captor inflicted upon her flesh: Tickling and Pleasure. She hated both. She hated being so very ticklish that every stroke, every poke and wiggle made her shriek helplessly in her gag, her hysterical forced laughter muffled as well. She also hated being so very helpless to prevent the orgasms her captor forced from her captive body at will.
Stacy struggled in her bondage, getting a feel for her position this time. Eventually, she realized that she was lying on her back, probably on a bed. Her arms were spread apart and tied to the bedposts. Her legs were bent at the knees, her ankles secured to her thighs. Her legs were spread in this position, and the lack of movement of her legs made her conclude that her legs were tied to the footposts.
She moaned and groaned into the gag, and to her plugged ears, no sound came out. Her vision was as black as the blindfold covering her eyes, and all she could smell was the strong filtered air thanks to the filter. Once again, Stacy was helpless, her body bound in a way to prevent any struggles, all her senses eliminated, save for touch.
Her captor made his/her presence known with a cruel poke to her ribs. It was akin to an electric shock, and she screamed in surprise, her body trying to flinch away to no avail. The finger remained on her rib, making her groan in horrified anticipation at the tickling to come. Please, no more, she desperately wished to beg, but the words merely remained in her overtaxed mind.
The finger began to stroke along the single ribs, and her moans were soon interspersed with helpless giggling, such was the level of her ticklishness. Of course, being denied her other senses made her sense of touch so much more sensitive. Then to her relief, the brief tickling stopped.
Please, please, please stop, please don’t tickle me, she screamed in the recesses of her mind. She got her wish, for the next thing she felt was a tongue gently licking her right nipple, while expert fingers kneaded her left breast.
NOOOO!! Stacy screamed silently. NOT THIS!! Even though was sexually active and did enjoy masturbation, she absolutely hated having her helpless body played with like this, mercilessly stimulated against her wishes. Each orgasm that her captor wrung from her body was just like a punctuation mark, an exclamation mark, signifying her sentence of captivity and humiliation.
In her helpless state, Stacy could feel herself being helplessly aroused by her captor’s expert tongue and fingers, even though she hated every second of it. The tongue gently running round and round her stiff nipple, the fingers squeezing with perfect finesse her nerve endings.
Then the other hand leisurely traveled down her torso, to between her spread legs. Exerting all her force, she tried to bring her legs together. She would probably have more success trying to stop the tide. Fingers began to rub her labia slowly, sensuously, making them gorge with blood and puff up. Her clitoris swelled helplessly, and was immediately pinched lightly between a thumb and forefinger.
Her trapped clitoris was rolled between the fingers, even as her breasts were well attended to. Stacy could feel her resistance crumbling helplessly as the orgasm refused to be held back. She wailed in anguish as her captor forced an intense orgasm from her unwilling body. She was sobbing in humiliation, even as the throes of the orgasm subsided.
Unfortunately, Stacy had been in this situation enough times to know what was coming next. After the orgasm, her body would become much more sensitive. She knew it, her captor knew it. And any tickling that followed would naturally be that much more torturous.
Right on cue, cruel fingers dug into her soft belly. Her body arched into the air, only to slam down on the bed, the fingers never budging, except to tickle, tickle, tickle. Muffled screams and laughter poured forth in torrents as the fingers roamed her ticklish torso at will.
Belly, sides, waist and ribs were not spared as the fingers sought out new ground for inflicting horrible torments. Scratching motions on her ribs, poke-and-wiggle on her waist, digging in her belly. All different sensations, all unbearable tickling for Stacy.
She lost track of time, unaware that the tickling had ceased for the moment, as her mind was still hazy with the pure agony of unbearable tickle torture. She was still giggling mindlessly as phantom fingers in her mind continued the tickling. After some time, she eventually calmed down, her breathing deep rapid. She could only imagine the effect on her breasts, heaving in desperation.
Then she felt fingers spread her labia, entering the tip of her pussy. She felt a fingernail gently scrape her pussy walls, each stroke sending a powerful sexual jolt through her loins. She moaned in helpless arousal. Then she felt her lips spread even further apart and a cool metal dildo push in without much resistance.
She tried to fight the intrusion, but to no avail. Her captor began to slowly slide the dildo in and out, her previous orgasm more than lubricating her metal lover. Then she felt her captor’s tongue on her clitoris and the unwanted pleasure surged in her brain. The licking of her clit coupled with the pistoning of the dildo quickly sent her over the orgasm abyss again, this time even more powerful than the first one.
This time even before the orgasm subsided, her underarms erupted into the worst armpit tickling she had ever experienced before. Her captor’s fingers sank into the deep hollows of her outstretched underarms and wiggled away maniacally. Stacy screamed once, then descended into the silent laughter of the insanely ticklish.
Her arms strained to pull themselves down from the posts to cover and protect her underarms, but it was as futile as trying to stop the sun from giving off heat. And so all Stacy could do was suffer, as her captor changed styles and techniques randomly.
Sometimes just a single finger poking into her left armpit and wiggling gently, while scrabbling rapidly over her right armpit. At times, a single finger stroking her right pit, while sinking deep into the hollows of her left pit. Then drumming fingers against her left pit, while licking her right pit.
Even after the tickling stopped, her armpits still crawled with the ticklish sensations. Her hands were clenched tightly into fists, trying to will away the sensations, thinking it was over. Then the tickling erupted all over again, a no-holds-barred assault on her underarms, fingers wiggling deep into the defenceless hollows. Stacy screamed and laughed helplessly.
The tickling ceased just as she thought she was going to black out, her captor denying her even the bliss of unconsciousness. She wept pitifully, unable to do a single thing about her desperate plight.
Eventually, she calmed down, only to feel her labia pulled apart again, and a finger entered her well-lubricated pussy. It went unerringly for her g-spot, pressing firmly upon her g-spot first, making her gasp in unwanted arousal yet again. Then the finger began moving in a ‘come-hither’ motion, constantly rubbing against her g-spot.
Stacy wanted to scream for this cruel torment to stop, but was unable to do so. As hard as she tried to hold back the impending orgasm by sheer willpower, she knew she couldn’t prevent it. The previous orgasms had left her pussy highly sensitive to further stimulation, and the merciless tickling had lowered her resistance levels considerably. It wasn’t long before she was bucking helplessly in the throes of another powerful orgasm.
Her captor gave her some breathing space to catch her breath after that huge orgasm, as she panted for her breath. But the reprieve was short-lived. Stacy felt her captor’s lips upon her left inner thigh, kissing her left thigh softly first, then a tongue began to lick. The ticklish sensations surged into Stacy’s overtaxed brain, but she couldn’t even struggle.
The tongue traced a deviously ticklish path up and down her left inner thigh, working from her knees all the way up to her bikini line, then downwards. This motion repeated itself countless times, causing poor Stacy to cry out in hysterical laughter. Then fingers began to lightly tickle her right thigh, even as the tongue continued to torment her left thigh.
The fingers lightly but rapidly brushed against her right thigh, moving all over her ticklish flesh, raising goosepimples everywhere they went. Then the fingers gripped her right thigh in the middle of her knee and bikini line and began kneading the flesh as though it was a piece of dough. Her left thigh was now assaulted by her captor’s mouth blowing raspberries all over her thighs.
Stacy went ballistic at this tickle torture; or rather, she tried to go ballistic. Her body jerked helplessly in her bonds, her arms pulling down on her bonds, and succeeding only in moving an inch. Her legs vibrated in anguish, but the only motion was of her toes curling and uncurling. Other than that, Stacy laid on the bed in her bondage and suffered the cruel tickling.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. The mouth reached her bikini line, and the tongue resumed its licking, the tip of the tongue running firmly along her exposed bikini line on her left leg. A firm thumb pressed deeply into the bikini line on her right leg and began rotating mercilessly in small circles.
The ticklish sensations simply exploded in Stacy’s brain, all thoughts wiped out from her mind except that fact that she was being tickled. She couldn’t even think of trying to beg for mercy, so terrible was the tickling she was undergoing. Eventually, the tickling ceased, but the sensations were too firmly imprinted in Stacy’s mind, that it seemed to go on for a lot longer.
After she had regained some breath, she felt a dildo being inserted into her helpless pussy. When it was firmly and snugly inserted, it started to vibrate, sending her jangling nerves into overtime, as her pussy was stimulated again. Stacy knew what was next. After she was forced to cum yet again, she knew that her poor feet were going to get it next. And there was absolutely nothing that Stacy could do about it.
Her hips began bucking in increasing intensity as the vibrator started the Orgasm Express rumbling again. She could feel it coming ever closer and closer… almost there, almost there… then the vibrator was quickly pulled out from her pussy. As much as she was trying to fight to orgasm, the futility of it all had primed her for another forced orgasm. But now that the vibrator was so cruelly removed just seconds before she was about to cum, Stacy suddenly realized that she was rather be forced to orgasm then be so cruelly denied!
Before she had time to process her feelings more adequately, the tickling sensations erupted on her helpless feet without preamble. Her captor’s fingers scrabbled mercilessly upon her defenceless soles, raking up and down rapidly. The fingers moved so fast that it seemed every single inch of her feet were being tickled at the same time.
Stacy howled in ticklish anguish, even as the tortured laughter squeezed out between her gag. All thoughts of the orgasm was firmly banished as she couldn’t bear this cruel torture! Then the tickling ceased, and almost immediately, the vibrator was back in her pussy again.
Stacy couldn’t believe what was happening to her! Her feet were still crawling with the ticklish sensations, but her pussy was sending jolt after jolt of sexual pleasure, thanks to the vibrator! This was the worst of both worlds for poor Stacy! Eventually, the vibrator brought her right to the edge of orgasm again, her previous foot tickling now relegated to second place.
Once again, just before she climaxed, the vibrator was removed. And almost immediately, before she could recover her senses, the foot tickling began again. Her skin crawled horribly at this torture, the unbearable tickling sensations on her feet mixing with the subsiding pleasure of the vibrator’s stimulation.
Stacy would have promised her captor anything in the world, any perversion he or she wanted, just to stop this torment! Indeed, Stacy would have been willing to beg her captor to go back to either tickling her senseless, or make her cum repeatedly; any other torments would have seemed merciful compared to this!
Eventually, the foot tickling overwhelmed any pleasure she was still feeling, and soon Stacy was laughing hysterically again, her toes clenching repeatedly in tortured anguish. Please stop! She begged in her mind. I can’t take this anymore! She screamed to herself.
And the tickling stopped. Except that the vibrator went back to her pussy and turned on the heat once again, with the tickling still fresh in her mind, and even on her feet! Stacy knew what was coming this time. There was absolutely no way she could prevent her body’s reactions this time.
Once again, right on the edge of orgasm, the vibrator was removed from her dripping wet pussy, and the foot tickling began again. But this time, she had been kept on the edge for too long, with the pleasure almost too much to bear, that any other sensation following the removal of the vibrator would be enough to bring her off the edge into an insanely powerful orgasm.
Within seconds of her foot tickling, Stacy arched her torso helplessly as the tickle torture became the source of her pleasure, her pussy squirting out her juices in powerful streams while her body convulsed helplessly in her bonds. Yet through the pleasure of her long sought-after orgasm, the tickling continued on her feet mercilessly, making her scream in ticklish agony even as the orgasm made her scream in unbearable pleasure. Finally, Stacy passed out into the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness.
Stacy regained consciousness. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious for. She didn’t know if her captor was still in the room. She knew her bondage position had changed, this time into a simple spreadeagled position. Her gag, blindfold, earplugs and nose filter still remained.
Her body felt clean and washed, as though her captor had washed and bathed her body while she was unconscious. But other than that, everything else was a big unknown, except for the fact that she was nothing more than a tickle toy for a complete sadist. Where was her captor now?
THE END
Hope you all enjoyed this story! Anyone interested in writing this story from the captor's perspective?
Stacy didn’t know how long she had been asleep for. She didn’t know if it was night or day. In fact, she didn’t even know how long she had been here for. The only thing she knew was that she was a captive, always kept nude in stringent bondage, always blindfolded, always gagged, always with earplugs on, and always with a nose filter on.
In this way, she couldn’t escape her captor, couldn’t see her captor, couldn’t call out and beg her captor, couldn’t hear when her captor was around, and couldn’t even smell her captor.
How long ago had she been abducted? She didn’t know. Was her captor male or female? She didn’t know. Was she even in her own city, in her own country? She didn’t know. The only thing she knew was that she was nothing more than a plaything for her captor, her flesh nothing more than a canvas for her captor to use for his or her own pleasure.
Indeed, ever since her abduction, Stacy had known only two sensations that her captor inflicted upon her flesh: Tickling and Pleasure. She hated both. She hated being so very ticklish that every stroke, every poke and wiggle made her shriek helplessly in her gag, her hysterical forced laughter muffled as well. She also hated being so very helpless to prevent the orgasms her captor forced from her captive body at will.
Stacy struggled in her bondage, getting a feel for her position this time. Eventually, she realized that she was lying on her back, probably on a bed. Her arms were spread apart and tied to the bedposts. Her legs were bent at the knees, her ankles secured to her thighs. Her legs were spread in this position, and the lack of movement of her legs made her conclude that her legs were tied to the footposts.
She moaned and groaned into the gag, and to her plugged ears, no sound came out. Her vision was as black as the blindfold covering her eyes, and all she could smell was the strong filtered air thanks to the filter. Once again, Stacy was helpless, her body bound in a way to prevent any struggles, all her senses eliminated, save for touch.
Her captor made his/her presence known with a cruel poke to her ribs. It was akin to an electric shock, and she screamed in surprise, her body trying to flinch away to no avail. The finger remained on her rib, making her groan in horrified anticipation at the tickling to come. Please, no more, she desperately wished to beg, but the words merely remained in her overtaxed mind.
The finger began to stroke along the single ribs, and her moans were soon interspersed with helpless giggling, such was the level of her ticklishness. Of course, being denied her other senses made her sense of touch so much more sensitive. Then to her relief, the brief tickling stopped.
Please, please, please stop, please don’t tickle me, she screamed in the recesses of her mind. She got her wish, for the next thing she felt was a tongue gently licking her right nipple, while expert fingers kneaded her left breast.
NOOOO!! Stacy screamed silently. NOT THIS!! Even though was sexually active and did enjoy masturbation, she absolutely hated having her helpless body played with like this, mercilessly stimulated against her wishes. Each orgasm that her captor wrung from her body was just like a punctuation mark, an exclamation mark, signifying her sentence of captivity and humiliation.
In her helpless state, Stacy could feel herself being helplessly aroused by her captor’s expert tongue and fingers, even though she hated every second of it. The tongue gently running round and round her stiff nipple, the fingers squeezing with perfect finesse her nerve endings.
Then the other hand leisurely traveled down her torso, to between her spread legs. Exerting all her force, she tried to bring her legs together. She would probably have more success trying to stop the tide. Fingers began to rub her labia slowly, sensuously, making them gorge with blood and puff up. Her clitoris swelled helplessly, and was immediately pinched lightly between a thumb and forefinger.
Her trapped clitoris was rolled between the fingers, even as her breasts were well attended to. Stacy could feel her resistance crumbling helplessly as the orgasm refused to be held back. She wailed in anguish as her captor forced an intense orgasm from her unwilling body. She was sobbing in humiliation, even as the throes of the orgasm subsided.
Unfortunately, Stacy had been in this situation enough times to know what was coming next. After the orgasm, her body would become much more sensitive. She knew it, her captor knew it. And any tickling that followed would naturally be that much more torturous.
Right on cue, cruel fingers dug into her soft belly. Her body arched into the air, only to slam down on the bed, the fingers never budging, except to tickle, tickle, tickle. Muffled screams and laughter poured forth in torrents as the fingers roamed her ticklish torso at will.
Belly, sides, waist and ribs were not spared as the fingers sought out new ground for inflicting horrible torments. Scratching motions on her ribs, poke-and-wiggle on her waist, digging in her belly. All different sensations, all unbearable tickling for Stacy.
She lost track of time, unaware that the tickling had ceased for the moment, as her mind was still hazy with the pure agony of unbearable tickle torture. She was still giggling mindlessly as phantom fingers in her mind continued the tickling. After some time, she eventually calmed down, her breathing deep rapid. She could only imagine the effect on her breasts, heaving in desperation.
Then she felt fingers spread her labia, entering the tip of her pussy. She felt a fingernail gently scrape her pussy walls, each stroke sending a powerful sexual jolt through her loins. She moaned in helpless arousal. Then she felt her lips spread even further apart and a cool metal dildo push in without much resistance.
She tried to fight the intrusion, but to no avail. Her captor began to slowly slide the dildo in and out, her previous orgasm more than lubricating her metal lover. Then she felt her captor’s tongue on her clitoris and the unwanted pleasure surged in her brain. The licking of her clit coupled with the pistoning of the dildo quickly sent her over the orgasm abyss again, this time even more powerful than the first one.
This time even before the orgasm subsided, her underarms erupted into the worst armpit tickling she had ever experienced before. Her captor’s fingers sank into the deep hollows of her outstretched underarms and wiggled away maniacally. Stacy screamed once, then descended into the silent laughter of the insanely ticklish.
Her arms strained to pull themselves down from the posts to cover and protect her underarms, but it was as futile as trying to stop the sun from giving off heat. And so all Stacy could do was suffer, as her captor changed styles and techniques randomly.
Sometimes just a single finger poking into her left armpit and wiggling gently, while scrabbling rapidly over her right armpit. At times, a single finger stroking her right pit, while sinking deep into the hollows of her left pit. Then drumming fingers against her left pit, while licking her right pit.
Even after the tickling stopped, her armpits still crawled with the ticklish sensations. Her hands were clenched tightly into fists, trying to will away the sensations, thinking it was over. Then the tickling erupted all over again, a no-holds-barred assault on her underarms, fingers wiggling deep into the defenceless hollows. Stacy screamed and laughed helplessly.
The tickling ceased just as she thought she was going to black out, her captor denying her even the bliss of unconsciousness. She wept pitifully, unable to do a single thing about her desperate plight.
Eventually, she calmed down, only to feel her labia pulled apart again, and a finger entered her well-lubricated pussy. It went unerringly for her g-spot, pressing firmly upon her g-spot first, making her gasp in unwanted arousal yet again. Then the finger began moving in a ‘come-hither’ motion, constantly rubbing against her g-spot.
Stacy wanted to scream for this cruel torment to stop, but was unable to do so. As hard as she tried to hold back the impending orgasm by sheer willpower, she knew she couldn’t prevent it. The previous orgasms had left her pussy highly sensitive to further stimulation, and the merciless tickling had lowered her resistance levels considerably. It wasn’t long before she was bucking helplessly in the throes of another powerful orgasm.
Her captor gave her some breathing space to catch her breath after that huge orgasm, as she panted for her breath. But the reprieve was short-lived. Stacy felt her captor’s lips upon her left inner thigh, kissing her left thigh softly first, then a tongue began to lick. The ticklish sensations surged into Stacy’s overtaxed brain, but she couldn’t even struggle.
The tongue traced a deviously ticklish path up and down her left inner thigh, working from her knees all the way up to her bikini line, then downwards. This motion repeated itself countless times, causing poor Stacy to cry out in hysterical laughter. Then fingers began to lightly tickle her right thigh, even as the tongue continued to torment her left thigh.
The fingers lightly but rapidly brushed against her right thigh, moving all over her ticklish flesh, raising goosepimples everywhere they went. Then the fingers gripped her right thigh in the middle of her knee and bikini line and began kneading the flesh as though it was a piece of dough. Her left thigh was now assaulted by her captor’s mouth blowing raspberries all over her thighs.
Stacy went ballistic at this tickle torture; or rather, she tried to go ballistic. Her body jerked helplessly in her bonds, her arms pulling down on her bonds, and succeeding only in moving an inch. Her legs vibrated in anguish, but the only motion was of her toes curling and uncurling. Other than that, Stacy laid on the bed in her bondage and suffered the cruel tickling.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. The mouth reached her bikini line, and the tongue resumed its licking, the tip of the tongue running firmly along her exposed bikini line on her left leg. A firm thumb pressed deeply into the bikini line on her right leg and began rotating mercilessly in small circles.
The ticklish sensations simply exploded in Stacy’s brain, all thoughts wiped out from her mind except that fact that she was being tickled. She couldn’t even think of trying to beg for mercy, so terrible was the tickling she was undergoing. Eventually, the tickling ceased, but the sensations were too firmly imprinted in Stacy’s mind, that it seemed to go on for a lot longer.
After she had regained some breath, she felt a dildo being inserted into her helpless pussy. When it was firmly and snugly inserted, it started to vibrate, sending her jangling nerves into overtime, as her pussy was stimulated again. Stacy knew what was next. After she was forced to cum yet again, she knew that her poor feet were going to get it next. And there was absolutely nothing that Stacy could do about it.
Her hips began bucking in increasing intensity as the vibrator started the Orgasm Express rumbling again. She could feel it coming ever closer and closer… almost there, almost there… then the vibrator was quickly pulled out from her pussy. As much as she was trying to fight to orgasm, the futility of it all had primed her for another forced orgasm. But now that the vibrator was so cruelly removed just seconds before she was about to cum, Stacy suddenly realized that she was rather be forced to orgasm then be so cruelly denied!
Before she had time to process her feelings more adequately, the tickling sensations erupted on her helpless feet without preamble. Her captor’s fingers scrabbled mercilessly upon her defenceless soles, raking up and down rapidly. The fingers moved so fast that it seemed every single inch of her feet were being tickled at the same time.
Stacy howled in ticklish anguish, even as the tortured laughter squeezed out between her gag. All thoughts of the orgasm was firmly banished as she couldn’t bear this cruel torture! Then the tickling ceased, and almost immediately, the vibrator was back in her pussy again.
Stacy couldn’t believe what was happening to her! Her feet were still crawling with the ticklish sensations, but her pussy was sending jolt after jolt of sexual pleasure, thanks to the vibrator! This was the worst of both worlds for poor Stacy! Eventually, the vibrator brought her right to the edge of orgasm again, her previous foot tickling now relegated to second place.
Once again, just before she climaxed, the vibrator was removed. And almost immediately, before she could recover her senses, the foot tickling began again. Her skin crawled horribly at this torture, the unbearable tickling sensations on her feet mixing with the subsiding pleasure of the vibrator’s stimulation.
Stacy would have promised her captor anything in the world, any perversion he or she wanted, just to stop this torment! Indeed, Stacy would have been willing to beg her captor to go back to either tickling her senseless, or make her cum repeatedly; any other torments would have seemed merciful compared to this!
Eventually, the foot tickling overwhelmed any pleasure she was still feeling, and soon Stacy was laughing hysterically again, her toes clenching repeatedly in tortured anguish. Please stop! She begged in her mind. I can’t take this anymore! She screamed to herself.
And the tickling stopped. Except that the vibrator went back to her pussy and turned on the heat once again, with the tickling still fresh in her mind, and even on her feet! Stacy knew what was coming this time. There was absolutely no way she could prevent her body’s reactions this time.
Once again, right on the edge of orgasm, the vibrator was removed from her dripping wet pussy, and the foot tickling began again. But this time, she had been kept on the edge for too long, with the pleasure almost too much to bear, that any other sensation following the removal of the vibrator would be enough to bring her off the edge into an insanely powerful orgasm.
Within seconds of her foot tickling, Stacy arched her torso helplessly as the tickle torture became the source of her pleasure, her pussy squirting out her juices in powerful streams while her body convulsed helplessly in her bonds. Yet through the pleasure of her long sought-after orgasm, the tickling continued on her feet mercilessly, making her scream in ticklish agony even as the orgasm made her scream in unbearable pleasure. Finally, Stacy passed out into the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness.
Stacy regained consciousness. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious for. She didn’t know if her captor was still in the room. She knew her bondage position had changed, this time into a simple spreadeagled position. Her gag, blindfold, earplugs and nose filter still remained.
Her body felt clean and washed, as though her captor had washed and bathed her body while she was unconscious. But other than that, everything else was a big unknown, except for the fact that she was nothing more than a tickle toy for a complete sadist. Where was her captor now?
THE END
Hope you all enjoyed this story! Anyone interested in writing this story from the captor's perspective?
