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Felicia the Cheerleader Part 7

jkb

2nd Level Red Feather
Joined
Aug 28, 2004
Messages
1,388
Points
38
A/N Hello there, fellow TMF addicts! It's been almost a month since Part 6 came out, so I far from fulfilled my personal goal to get this part out quickly. Call it being distracted and busy, call it suffering from a lack of creativity, even call it "Bob" if you'd like, but whatever you call it, be sure that you do so while enjoying "Felicia the Cheerleader" Part 7.

But if you missed "Felicia the Cheerleader" Part 6, well shame, shame on you. I should let you hunt for it yourself, but I'll be generous and provide you with the link: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=65161

And now I must say this before continuing. This story continues the trend of being more about torture than it is about tickling. Felicia suffers in ways other than being tickled, both physically and psychologically. And that trend will not only continue, but grow stronger in future chapters. I very highly doubt it will continue into anything involving rape or mutilation (since neither really appeal to me all that much), but do not check future chapters looking for stories of playful or consensually erotic tickling. It will not happen. Basically, it's still not for the weak of heart, so don't complain to me if you see something you don't like. End of story.

.......Ahem, well that was awkward. Anyhoo, more hot cheerleader tickling action in "Felicia the Cheerleader" Part 7:

Part 7 (FF/F)

Everybody has some sort of crap going on in their life, something really unnecessary that just makes things harder for the sake of making things harder. No one can deny this, and no one is exempt from this “rule”. Even the most seemingly carefree person you meet has something going on in their life that is stressing them out or causing them needless hardship. This applies to everybody, including those really cute girls you know you had a crush on in high school that were not just pretty, but also all smiles and whatnot. Take a group of girls from a high school in a small town in America, for example. One of the prettiest girls in school, the student body president, has overloaded herself with so much work that she has no idea how she is going to pass any of her classes. Not graduating is a genuine fear for her. Another girl, very beautiful and very smart, has a major crush on one of the hottest guys in school (who typically just so happens to own a sports car), but fears that she won’t be able to capture his attention but rather will lose it to another girl, a slutty cheerleader who herself worries about being lonely and disliked and therefore strives to “make friends” with men in order to be popular and seek some sort of false fulfillment. Speaking of cheerleaders from this small, average high school, one of them has a problem that blows all the others away. This girl’s name is Felicia, she is 18 years old, and she has not seen her family, friends, school, home, or sunlight for two months. Instead, she has remained perpetually strapped to a table in the most vulnerable position possible wearing only her bra and panties. That’s not to say she has not been busy, part of the time at least. When not lying on the metal table totally unable to move for hours on end, she spent her free time receiving merciless tickle torture. Being insanely ticklish, this was very much a problem, but her kidnappers, a family of four who owned a BDSM club, did not care and were actually tickling her BECAUSE she could not withstand it.

Now one might believe that things were as bad for poor Felicia as they could possibly be, but it was Garfield the Cat who once said these very deep and thoughtful words of wisdom: “Never say things can’t get any worse. Things will always find a way to get worse.” And in Felicia’s case, they did. Now she is unconscious and in the arms of Helga, the chief dominatrix of the aforementioned BDSM club, and she is currently being imprisoned in the second subbasement of the club, a private dungeon for employees and special clients only. Now it will be Felicia, a sweet and innocent young girl, alone and helpless against hordes of fat, disgusting, horny old men and whorish middle aged women in leather outfits who all want nothing more than to torment her slim and beautiful teenage body. You don’t have to be a mathematician to figure out that those odds royally suck, though you probably do have to be one to figure out exactly what those odds are. Of course it doesn’t matter because, as stated before, they royally suck.

If the girl who liked the guy with the sports car knew about Felicia’s plight, she would surely feel much better about her own life.

Now really quick while Felicia is still out like a light, the club should be adequately described. It is a large building on the outskirts of town, about a city block in size. It is a no-nonsense BDSM club, not for the faint of heart. It is a club like no other, where you only go if you have a high pain threshold and want to experience true medieval-esque torture. It was filled with disturbing dungeons and horrible torture chambers, and each room contained gruesome torture devices not seen since the Spanish Inquisition. This was NOT for the faint of heart. The first floor contained the torture rooms, including Helga’s personal dungeon. A separate cover charge and special appointment were required for a session with Helga, and no one under the age of 23 was allowed in. In addition to the age limit, there was also a height and weight limit. 6 feet and 150 pounds. The reason behind this was due to the intensity of the tortures she administered, someone smaller would be too delicate to safely withstand them, key word being “safely”. Usually, large burly men who wanted to test their masculinity were the ones who submitted themselves to Helga’s various tortures, and very few of them passed that test. Helga was not the only dom, merely the best of the best. Dozens of dominants and dominatrix were employed by Robert and Claudia.

The second floor contained more torture rooms, but mostly offices for administrative work and the bar. The bar was just a normal bar that you would find in any club. Nothing strange there.

The basement and first subbasement contained mainly storage rooms, maintenance room, a locker room for the staff, a medical room, the boiler and generator room, more storage rooms, and really large hallways perfect for echoing voices and throwing Frisbees, or at least that’s what Bobby would tell you if asked what his opinion of the basements were.

Then there was the second subbasement. This was a place that would make the Spanish Inquisitors reel in shock, or at least feel right at home. The level was twice as long and wide as the building appeared on the outside and the dungeons truly represented the atmosphere of a medieval torture chamber, dark and gloomy and filled with stone walls and torches and demonic/religious statues and engravings. These were the special torture chambers, not made available or even known to the public, and the subs that would be forced to endure the horrible tortures are subjected to it illegally against their will, unlike the patrons on the first and second floors who paid good money to get in. These torture chambers were private, even most of the staff didn’t know about it. Only the best and most trustworthy doms were given knowledge of this disturbing place and worked down there. There were numerous torture chambers, each filled with innovative and disturbing methods of torture. There were only two ways in or out, one was through the back stairwell, in which a key was needed. The second was an elevator that connected to Helga’s dungeon on the first floor. Not only did this elevator need a key to operate (which only Helga possessed) but the door to her dungeon could also be locked from the inside. In other words, unless your name was Rambo, Solid Snake, Master Chief, or RoboCop, there was no way out of the second subbasement. Felicia was trapped as close as Hell as she could be without actually dying.

It should also be noted that until about 2 months ago, the second subbasement was nothing but a really large storage area. Using torture devices and dungeon decorations that were being kept in storage, they turned the area into the most horrific place on Earth since the Dark Ages. In other words, this place was new, and Felicia was their first “customer”.

A sharp pain between Felicia’s legs startled her awake. Grunting, she struggled to pull herself up to a more comfortable position, but she was restrained and as a result, while she could relieve some of the pain, she could not eradicate it. There were two pedestals, each about 4 feet high, only a couple feet apart from each other and each one had a wooden restraining stock on top. From the ceiling hung a hook with metal shackles. Felicia, still in nothing but her bra and panties, was each ankle locked in the stocks while she hung from the ceiling by her wrists. The position of the pedestals nearly locked her legs straight out to the sides, but the angle formed was slightly less than 180 degrees. Between her legs being forcefully spread open and them going beyond a full split if she relaxed her body (her rump would actually be lower that the height of her ankles), her vagina, thighs, calves, ankles, arms, wrists, and shoulder blades were in a lot of pain. She used all of her strength to pull herself up about a foot so that her legs weren’t on the verge of breaking off her body, which also allowed her to bend her arms a bit. To keep in this position took a lot of strength, however, and was killing her biceps.

She was in a dimly lit room with stone walls covered in cobwebs, rusty metal chains randomly hanging off the ceiling, demonic engravings in the walls, and a variety of hellish torture devices that made her stomach drop. Looking over the Judas Cradle and spiked chair, she began to wonder not if she was going to live through the night, but whether she would WANT to live through it. On either side of the large wooden door on the other side of the room were two women who were nearly identical. They were both tall but slim, each one in skimpy leather bondage outfits that resembled shiny lingerie with knee-high black high-heeled boots. They were both wearing too much make up, stood about 5’11, and had long curly hair, but one had bright red hair and the other had bright blonde hair. Between them was Helga.

“My, my, weren’t we out for awhile?” she cackled evilly. Felicia grunted in pain, her body tensing as Helga came closer. “I know you’re not hurting that much. Everyone knows how flexible and limber you cheerleaders are.” She finally got one thing right. Felicia was fairly limber, but she was no contortionist. Still, had she not been a cheerleader, she probably would have been crying out in agony right now.

Helga reached over to a third pedestal, which was on wheels, this one smaller than the others, but with something much more disturbing that a single-hole stockade—six inch nails! The top of the pedestal was covered with them. As Felicia gasped in terror and confusion, not knowing what she was going to do with them but whatever it was it would be bad, Helga sneered sadistically. “I’d hate to see you rip open your diseased little **** hanging there like that, so here’s a little incentive to keep you up.” As she rolled the wheel under Felicia’s pussy, the girl begged for her life. “OH GOD! No, please, you can’t!! Please, Mistress Helga, don’t! Let me go, it will hurt if those needles touch me down there!” “You stupid little bitch, you just never learn, don’t you? Of course it will hurt. That’s the idea. We’re not here to pamper you like your parents always did,” remarked Helga as she turned around to leave. Her statement was not totally true. Felicia’s family was very well off, so she was never left wanting for anything. But despite the fact that her parents did spoil her a bit, they far from “pampered” her like a little rich girl.

Walking past the two doms standing next to the door, she told them, “Micah, Frieda, she’s all yours.” Turning back to Felicia, Helga informed her, “I found these two in Germany, trying to start their own hardcore BDSM club. It was supposed to contain all sorts of perverted fetishes that Americans are too sensitive to admit exist. But unfortunately, they are no business majors, and while they knew how to torture people, they couldn’t actually run a business. I felt sorry for them, so I brought them to the States to work with my little sister. But you will see how extreme Germans can be. I’ll be back not too late.” With that, she turned and exited the room, the door closing behind her with a thud that left the room echoing. Felicia was now all alone with two strangers that were going to subject her to “extreme” sexual fetishes, and there was nothing she could do but keep holding herself up as long as she could so that she doesn’t get a vagina full of spikes.

Micah, the blonde one, said something to Frieda in German. Frieda nodded and they both stood in front of Felicia, looking lustfully at her vulnerable body. Felicia’s eyes darted from one to the other, her sweaty hands desperately trying to keep hold of the metal chain her wrists were connected to. Frieda ran a long red fingernail down Felicia’s leg, from calf to thigh, eliciting a shriek from the younger girl.

“Don’t do that!” cried Felicia. “Please! Let me go! Don’t tickle me, not like this, please!” Micah and Frieda began speaking to each other in German, and although Felicia couldn’t understand a word, she could detect a sinister undertone in their voices. She knew that if they tickled her, she would not have the strength to keep herself up and her sex would fall right onto the nails. She nervously glanced down at them, strengthening her resolve to keep herself well above the needles.

Micah smiled sadistically, poking one of her long fingernails right into Felicia’s belly button. The girl screamed at the top of her lungs from this quick poke, nearly falling onto the needles. She caught herself at the last second, grunting and groaning as she pulled herself back up as if she were climbing a mountain. Frieda slowly moved around to her back as Micah glared up at the girl from the front. Felicia turned her head back and forth trying to keep Frieda in her sights. “Wait, please, no, what are you doing?” she asked frantically. Suddenly, she felt her whole back shudder as a fingernail stroked the length of her spine. She cringed, her body tensing and her arms coming closer together as if they were protecting something. Two fingernails began lightly tickling her shoulder blades, the only parts being spared were whatever was covered by her bra strap. Her back tensed as her giggles bordered on becoming full-blown laughter. Suddenly the tickling stopped, and Felicia began gasping for air. Already her body glistened with sweat, her biceps were sore from keeping her body about a foot or so higher than were gravity wanted it to be, and her hands hurt from gripping the chain so tightly. A look of pure animal fear washed over Felicia’s face as Micah began reaching for the backs of her thighs, and looking behind her she could see going for her partially covered underarms. Panicking, all Felicia could do was try to not fall rump-first into 6-inch spikes. “Oh God, please, why?” she asked no one in particular.

Suddenly she exploded with maniacal laughter. Micah’s fingernails were right near her panties tickling her thighs, not actually tickling her groin in case Felicia should lose her grip. Frieda wedged her fingers into Felicia’s sensitive armpits and began tickling her there. Although she was rapidly losing strength, Felicia naturally bent her arms as a reaction to the armpit tickling, hoisting herself up by accident in a sense. The same applied to her thighs. It provoked her into lifting her body higher in a feeble attempt to escape the incessant tickling.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA………. OH-OHH GO-AHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!” Incessant laughter poured from Felicia’s lips as she gripped her chains tighter, the gigantic spikes still fresh in her mind. She trapped Frieda’s fingers in her armpits, but now all the red-haired dominatrix had to do was move them the slightest millimeter and it was enough to send her nerves into a frenzy. She desperately tried to bend her legs together to get Micah’s hands away from her groin, but they were locked in stocks on either side of her body. Due to the fact that her entire body was partially hanging from the stocks and that her legs were never completely perpendicular to the floor while the hole was, the unpadded wood was digging right into her ankles. It definitely left a mark, but time would tell if it cut through her skin.

With a burst of strength, she fought to pull herself up more. She pulled down on the chains as hard as she could, hoping that her body would pull itself upward. She consciously fought to either rip her ankles right out of the stocks or rip the stocks right off the pedestals. Of course, the 110 pound girl could go nowhere, but she knew she had to try. Granted, she had no ideas of any merit or potential in her exhausted mind, but she did know that below her was 10 tickling fingers and a whole bunch of needles while above her there was a ceiling. The ceiling was much more promising.

She would have to raise her arms higher if she were to go up further, regardless of whether or not her feet were restrained. She knew this and decided that she would have to withstand the tickling of her armpits if she were to have any chance of escape. Frieda’s fingers were still wriggling around, trapped in her pits. Felicia put one hand over the other, pulling herself upwards as if she were climbing a rope. This put tremendous strain on her legs as she was only hurting herself, stretching her body out as if she were on a rack, but the only way out would be to rip her way out of her bondage, and it was something she had to try. She put her other hand over that hand, and then repeated, sending a searing pain shooting up and down her legs, stopping right near Micah’s tickling fingers. Her arms were now high above her head, her hands gripping tightly at the chain as she got ready to pull herself even higher (which was at this point impossible). As she prepared to lift herself, she felt the full force of Frieda’s fiendish fingernails (oh yeah!) in her armpits, and the tickling sensations were so incredible that her mind could not even concentrate on the task at hand. She could not even find the strength to pull herself upwards.

Suddenly, the worst thing imaginable occurred. Her sweaty hands lost their grip on the chain. Her body suddenly sank about a foot, the lowest point the chain and stocks would allow it to go, and her panty-clad pussy landed right on the needles.

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!” screamed Felicia in agony. The needles were not high enough to really penetrate, but they were able to cause her excruciating pain. Thankfully, her panties protected her sex more than one would have thought. But the nails still poked her, causing enough pressure in her most sensitive place to make her scream.

The tickle torture stopped and Micah and Frieda began speaking to each other in German again. Felicia didn’t even hear them. She was busy concentrating all of her strength into lifting her bottom off of the spikes. Even then, she was so exhausted she could only get a couple inches above them. Her hands gripped tightly at the chain, her arms slightly bent at the elbows but nowhere near enough to protect her hypersensitive armpits. Her vagina throbbed with pain, and her ankles were in agony from the wood cutting into them. Her arms were numb and her torso felt like it was stretched on a rack. All in all, she was having a bad day.

And for those of you who said “Well at least things can’t get any worse”, need I remind you of the Garfield rule. It took effect here as Felicia, gasping for air and trying to regain her composure, suddenly felt the cold steel of a blade against her shoulder blade. She began to panic until she saw that it was only Frieda cutting off her bra, which, when she realized the implications of this action, caused her to resume panicking, but somewhat less. It was at this time that the mentally and physically exhausted high school girl began to sob hysterically, and she felt her stomach drop when she felt another blade against her hip, slicing through and removing her panties.

Now she was hanging by her wrists with her legs spread wide open above six inch nails, fully nude. Frieda and Micah stood back and marveled at Felicia’s beautiful small and perky B-cup breasts. They spoke highly about them and the rest of her body, but since she only understood English, they could have been speaking about the weather and really bad movies and Felicia wouldn’t have noticed.

They spoke for the next couple minutes, and Felicia used it to rest a bit. She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to herself. She wondered what she had done in life to deserve God’s wrath. Through her sobs, she wondered what she had or hadn’t done to make her have to go through such hellish torture. She never claimed to be Mother Theresa or anything, but she always thought she was an all-around good person. She was nice to everybody she met, even people who she was way too good for. She volunteered often at a hospital and homeless shelter. Was that it? Did she not spend enough time helping people? Impossible, she helped out everyday after school. Maybe she should have spent weekends there too.

She opened her eyes, ready to pull herself up when she saw something that made her forget about the spikes below her. Something that renewed her sobbing.

Micah and Frieda were at her feet.

Micah was on Felica’s left and Frieda was on her right. They were both speaking in German still, but they were both gesturing and pointing to her feet, indicating their intent. “NO!” cried Felicia. “PLE-E-E-E-EASE!!! DON’T TICKLE ME THERE! PLEASE!” Both dominatrixes ignored her, and she could not tell when the torture was going to begin. She gripped the chain again, frantically trying to hoist herself up and as far away from them as possible, which was so blatantly impossible that one just had to stop and wonder what Felicia’s IQ actually was. The German women directed their speech towards Felicia, obviously mocking her. Felicia wrapped her arm around the cold metal chain, the closest thing she’s ever had to a teddy bear, friend, blanket, or something to hold for comfort in 2 months. Her hysterical crying morphed into hysterical laughter in an instant as long fingernails began scratching her delicate soles. It had only been about 10 minutes since Helga left the room.

“OH-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, NO STO-STO-AHAAAAAAHAHAHA AHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA, oh no! No no no no NOOOOO-HOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” squealed Felicia. Tears streamed down her cheek as she feebly attempted to conjure up some sort of plea for the tickling to stop, which came out sounding like, “NOOO-N-N-N-N-N-WAAAIWACABA-AHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!!!!!” Frieda and Micah were able to understand English, but they couldn’t understand gibberish and they were definitely unfamiliar with whatever language “waaiwacaba” originated from, which in fact was not just a random group of syllables but actually the first letter/syllable of every word Felicia would have been able to say had she not being tickled (“I—wait!—can’t—please”), except of course the last syllable, which was just a freak mispronunciation.

Frieda fingernails scraped across Felicia’s unprotected soles while, on her left foot, Micah’s tongue slowly crept sideways across her toes. Felicia was screaming at the top of her lungs, her face was red and her knuckles were white. She gripped the chain harder, she just needed something, anything to hold onto to get her mind off the tickle torture. As Frieda joined in on the tongue tickle torture, using her tongue to caress Felicia’s right sole, Felicia again felt herself lose her grip on the chain, and she fell right back on the spikes, this time without even panties to protect her sensitive vagina.

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHH-OHHHHHHH!!!!!!” she wailed in pain. The spikes penetrated this time, very little though and not nearly enough to draw blood (or at least a quantity worth talking about). Most of them hit either near her thigh or between the vagina and anus, all of which hurt like a bitch, but one actually managed to scrape her inner pussy lips, and that was what she felt more than anything. Without her panties, she felt it even more since there was no longer a layer of cloth to protect her from needles that were in reality just barely grazing her. Another source of pain was felt in her hamstrings and that was due to her sudden drop, regardless of the presence of the needles. It was like standing upright one second and then being forced to go beyond a full split in the next second. She WAS going beyond a full split, and since on her own she could ALMOST do a full split, one could only imagine how much this hurt her.

Panicking and desperate to get off of the nails, she quickly wrapped her cuffed wrist around the chain it was attached to, held on tight and pulled with all of her might. The desperation in her eyes was heart-wrenching, and she actually somehow stopped laughing during the time she pulled herself up, but midway she stopped as the tickling sensations took over her body.

“Oh no! No! Please, NOOOOO!!” she cried as she first felt all her strength leave her body, most importantly her arms, and then as she fell back onto the nails at a slight angle (her body was on a back swing, so her chest was leaning forward while her butt was leaning back). Her body swung forward a little bit, her forward momentum hampered by the spikes, and she felt the spikes scrape painfully across her skin, a few going right across her sex. “OH GOOOOOOOOOODDD!!!!!!!” she yelled, crying hysterically as she swore for a second she felt needles scraping across her clitoris, but it was only her inner lips.

Micah tickled Felicia’s sole with one hand, her heel with the other. Frieda was nibbling on the big toe of the other foot. Her body weight still focused on a pedestal full of six inch long needles, Felicia burst out hysterical laughter from her lips. Her lungs were aching, and she had nothing left in her body to fight the ticklish torture she was receiving. Laughing incessantly, she pulled with all her might to get up off the spikes only to discover that she had nothing left. All she could do was try to withstand the tickling and pain enough to keep herself from wiggling around, or else the needles would continue to scrape and cut her between her legs, increasing her pain tenfold.

Unfortunately, she had no willpower left either, and the horrible torture of her sensitive feet left her body wiggling whatever it could wiggle and squirming whatever it could squirm. Her pussy (which was already in great pain from having her legs forced apart sideways) was being cut to ribbons by the needles. Actually, that’s quite the exaggeration, she wasn’t even bleeding because they were barely touching her, but it caused her to suffer all the same. It wasn’t how badly they were cutting her as much as where that was causing her to hurt down there. Between that, the tickling of her feet, and the general position she was in due to her unforgiving and unconventional bondage, her mind was in tatters. Her brain was overloaded with sensations that it was trying to get rid of, pain and tickling double teaming it and attacking from all sides. She could barely breathe and her heart was pounding in her chest so hard it was hurting her ears, which were actually hurting on their own along with the rest of her skull.

After about 30 minutes the merciless torture finally ceased. Micah and Frieda finally withdrew their long nails from Felicia’s ticklish feet, the bottoms of which were still tingling. Her hair was disheveled and matted with sweat and her face was beet red. She coughed and struggled to breath, tears streaming from her eyes as she closed them. Her vagina throbbed with pain and her groin area was marked with relatively harmless scratches that would probably heal themselves within the day. Her ankles were killing her from the wood of the stocks digging into them, her biceps were totally numb, and she was sure she pulled both thigh muscles from hanging from her legs forcibly stuck beyond the full split position She opened her eyes to the most wonderful sight she had ever seen, however, and that was Micah and Frieda moving the spiked pedestal out from under her. Her thighs and upperbody felt a quick sting from no longer having something to rest upon, but her groin felt immense relief from not having to rest upon metal nails. Each dominatrix unlocked one of the stocks, freeing Felicia’s captive legs. It felt sooooo good to be able to move them again, to not have them practically bending the wrong way. Micah unlocked her cuffs, and Felicia dropped like a rock to the floor. Her tear-stained eyes were glazed over as she curled up into a ball. She didn’t care that the stone floor was cold against her bare skin, it was the greatest feeling in the world right now. She laid on the floor, trying to catch her breath and maybe just disappear into thin air.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t over for her yet.

Each dominatrix grabbed an arm and heaved her to her feet, dragging the limp teenager to a weird looking metal cage/box/thingy. It was rectangular, just barely large enough to hold a person (say, Felicia), and the frame consisted of rusted metal bars. Rusted metal just has that extra touch that gives the prisoner more of a feeling of fear that clean metal does. At the end of the rectangle was a chain (also rusted) that connected to a pulley. There were also holes at each end for the hands and feet. The blonde-haired cheerleader was in a daze, suddenly feeling her a hand shove the small of her back, her right shin hit something metal, and her body land on rusty metal bars, all of this knocking the wind out of her and doing nothing to snap her back into coherency. All she did was cry out. Her body was straightened out and her wrists and ankles were put into the respective holes. The “lid” of the cage was closed, trapping Felicia in the rusty cage with her arms stretched out over her head and her legs straight out below her.

Now to give you and idea of just how small this cage was, Felicia was 5’5” and 110 pounds. Her arms and legs were extended as far as they could go and they just barely made it into the holes. Yet despite her slim figure, she had no room to maneuver. The bars in front of her were nearly crushing her, she could actually feel the lid putting pressure on her chest and ribs. Her breasts were being pushed down, and she only had B-cups. She could feel the pressure between two bars on the back of her head and one on each cheek, making it very painful to move her head. She couldn’t even wiggle her hips from side to side because it hurt to move them, since it was pretty much squeezing them between the bars of the cage’s floor and the bars of the cage’s lid. The only things she could move were her hands and feet. Coffins had more space to move around in than this thing. Luckily, Felicia was too out of it to care. She was so exhausted, she could have even slept in this uncomfortable contraption.

Suddenly she felt everything moving, and she opened her eyes and moved her head a bit to see, suddenly realizing that turning her head hurt like hell. Whatever the case, it was easy to see that the chain, which was between her feet, was pulling the cage towards the pulley. Micah was turning a crank which connected to the pulley, and the sound of the chain wrapping around itself filled the room. Felicia felt her bottom half tilt off the ground, and suddenly she was airborne, hanging upside-down a couple of feet off the ground. Her only reaction was a long groan. “Please, Micah. Frieda. No more,” she whined, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take any of this anymore.”

Blood rushed into her head, making her feel dizzy. She closed her eyes to make herself feel better, and to stop herself from puking. Behind her, Micah and Frieda were retrieving something out of a drawer in the corner. Suddenly, a pair of whirring sounds caused Felicia’s eyes to spring open. The torturers suddenly came into her inverted view, holding in their hands the terrifying source of the noise.

Electric toothbrushes!

“God, please, no, don’t do this, please no……” pleaded Felicia, her quivering voice fighting a brutal battle against her fear. She forgot all about the cramped quarters and being upside-down as the pair of electric toothbrushes left her field of vision, but she knew where they were going. She heard the sound of wooden stools being moved behind her, and that clinched it for her. The gruesome twosome were standing on stools, slowly lowering the horrible devices towards her delicate little feet. She couldn’t even see it coming. There was no way it was going to be anything less than horrible.

“No, please, no, noooOOOOO AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!” she wailed as a pair of rapidly spinning bristles connected to her bare soles. Her legs cramped up as her feet exploded with ticklish agony. She wiggled her feet to escape the tortuous tickling of the electric toothbrushes, but it was to no avail. She pulled furiously at her restraints, trying in vain to pull her hands and feet through the holes they were trapped in (which would have hurt as much as those toothbrushes tickled), but she only managed to hurt herself. She instinctively tried to shake her head, instead painfully scraping her nose against the rusted bars. The back of her skull hitting the corner of another bar made her ears ring. She descended into silent laughter, her mouth hung open in a perpetual gaping smile ironically produced by the most sadistic torture imaginable.

Micah held down the toes of Felicia’s right foot, meticulously running the brush over the ball and instep. Frieda grasped Felicia’s other ankle, running the brush in small circles over the heel. The poor girl’s face turned red as she struggled for air. The electric brushes tickled every inch of her hyper-ticklish feet for what seemed like hours, but was actually only 20 minutes. Still, 20 minutes of straight, non-stop tickle torture was hellish for most people, and for Felicia there was no word to describe two electric toothbrushes swirling around her bare feet. The whole time Micah and Frieda were talking to her, MOCKING her, in German. They called her all sorts of nasty things and reveled at how pathetic Felicia was that just having her skin touched by dental tools could reduce her to nothing but a giggling mass of flesh, and Felicia could do nothing to defend herself from their verbal onslaught. It took everything she had to withstand their tickling onslaught, and she really wasn’t even doing that as much as she was just kind of stuck there with no choice but to be their ticklish victim.

Felicia didn’t even hear the door open, signifying Helga’s entrance into the room. At that time, she was feeling the effects of both an electric toothbrush running along the tips and underside of her right set of toes (punishment for curling her feet), and another electric toothbrush tormenting her bare ankle while five long fingernails scribbled across her helpless toes (punishment for being really ticklish). Making a motion with her hand, Helga signaled for Micah and Frieda to stop. The toothbrushes powered down, but Felicia did not as hysterical giggles continued to poor from her lips, sort of like an aftershock to an earthquake.

Helga crouched down in front of Felicia’s inverted giggling face, taking pleasure in the hint of hopelessness and despair evident on her features despite her laughter. “Did you have fun with Frieda and Micah?” she asked with a cruel sneer. “I left you here for an hour, so I hope you took that time to adequately entertain my dear friends.” She stood up, noticing the plethora of small scratch marks between the cheerleader’s legs. “Yes, I think you’ve provided them with a modicum of entertainment, and they’ve returned the favor. How generous they are to you, my dear.” She traced a finger her smooth skin around her vagina, letting her finger rest right on the hole. Felicia’s body tensed up as rape as been one of her biggest fears since her abduction and she had no doubt in her mind that if she ever did get released, it wouldn’t be as a virgin. But Helga just walked around to the wall behind her to another one of the torture tools in the room: a small stove built into the wall. It had a metal door with a stick sticking out of it. This stick was actually the handle of branding iron. Helga opened the doors and removed it from its coal-filled resting place. “But I will leave you with a parting gift tonight, your first night here at the club, and I guarantee you it will be far worse than any amount of tickle torture you will ever receive,” she remarked, returning to her captive and waving the iron, which was glowing red, in front of the girl’s face.

Felicia panicked immediately upon seeing the demonic tool. It was so hot, she felt the heat from it on her face from a foot away. The thought of that thing being press against her bare skin was unbearable, and the realization that she would be scarred for life was devastating. Suddenly, she wished for tickle torture. Even having her feet tickled would be better than this.

“NO!! HELGA, PLEASE, DON’T DO THAT TO ME, PLEASE!!!!! GOD, PLEASE!!! DON’T!!!! ANYTHING BUT THAT!!!!” she screamed in pure, unbridled terror. This had to be a nightmare, in which case she wanted to wake up. This could not be real. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her.

“Sorry, baby, but I think it’s time we added some imperfections to that silky smooth skin of yours,” replied Helga. “Frieda, unlock her chain and set her face down on the floor.”

Frieda obeyed, standing on the stool and disconnecting the chain from the cage it was holding. Micah turned the crank, lowering it to the floor as Frieda worked so that when the chain was disconnected, Felicia didn’t fall and get a concussion. The cage was lowered to the floor, and Helga’s massive strength allowed it to be set gently down rather than crashing violently on the floor, all this while Felicia was screaming her head off. “Oh shut up, Alicia,” groaned Helga. “Now, where’s a good spot to leave my mark?”

Felicia stared at the ground wide-eyed, her breaths drawing short. They were actually going to brand her! They were going to burn through her incredibly sensitive skin with a branding iron and leave a permanent scar on her body! This couldn’t be happening to her! This was the sort of thing that happened in movies, or during the Spanish Inquistion, or in movies that took place during the Spanish Inquisition. How could this sort of thing happen to her? She was just a regular schoolgirl, and there was no way in Hell she could withstand this like all those hardened warriors do in the movies. As the tension built up to almost unbearable levels, as her heart began to pound furiously in her chest, all sorts of thoughts swirled through her young mind. She may never be able to attract a boy and/or use a certain part of her body in a certain way (not a sexual reference), depending on where she got branded. She would be permanently disfigured and would always have a reminder of the horrors she went through. But mostly, she thought of the unimaginable pain she was about to endure.

She waited for what seemed like hours as Helga dragged it out, psychologically torturing the helpless high school cheerleader before the abhorrent torture began. Felicia felt her body tense up as she waited for everything to be over. “Oh God, please don’t let this hurt,” she prayed to herself, her eyes squeezed shut.

Suddenly it happened. Her eyes bulged as she screamed higher, louder, and longer than she ever screamed before in her life.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a branding iron she felt but rather a pair of hands grabbing her ass, specifically Helga’s hands squeezing her buttcheeks. Her scream was not one of pain but one of shock. Lots and lots of shock. The immense amount of shock coupled with the relief of not being branded caused her to literally wet the floor. Helga had tricked her, and a cruel trick it was.

As she resumed breathing, Helga shot up and away from the urine-soaked floor underneath Felicia’s pussy. “How dare you piss on my floor, you disgusting little bitch! Do you want me to brand you for real?! I’ll burn that little clitoris of yours!” she screamed, which startled, shocked, scared, and sent shivers up the spine of the schoolgirl (9 S-words! Yes!). “You know what? You want to pee on my floor, you’ll reap what you sow! Come here!” Helga bent over, lifting the tail end of Felicia’s cage with her incredible might. As painful as it was, Felicia turned her head to one side, knowing what was about to come. Helga dragged the cage backward a couple feet and dropped it, Felicia’s face landing right above the puddle of her own urine. If she hadn’t turned her head, her nose would literally have been in the urine and her mouth would possibly have been touching it too. Her head was now turned sideways to the left, so the only thing touching the urine was a lock of her head, a part of her earlobe, and the bars of the cage. The liquid was warm and tingly against her ear, the way one would expect urine to feel like against one’s ear, and the smell overpowered her nostrils seemingly with brute force.

Micah and Frieda, the latter of which was putting the branding iron away, began laughing and making fun of poor Felicia in German while Helga bent over her by her left side (the side Felicia was facing away from). “Now lay in your piss, you little ****, and hopefully that will teach you not to fuck around with my family, and not to fuck around with every man you see.” Where was she getting her information from? Whatever the case, she punctuated her statement by scribbling her fingers in her armpit. Felicia’s eyes squeezed shut as her mouth flew open, hysterical laughter pouring out, heightened by her inability to see the attack coming.

“Rest up, poor helpless little baby. Tomorrow you’re going to meet the rest of our ‘special’ staff,” she said, removing her hand from Felicia’s bare armpit. “These select members of our team have undergone special training on how to torture you personally, and they know all your weak spots, your personality, your fears, and your reactions to torture. And soon, you will meet some of our most loyal customers, all of whom I’m sure will be satisfied with you, our most valuable piece of property.” Felicia just stared at the wall to her right, her mouth partly open and her pretty blue eyes devoid of hope and full of fear. The idea that her own body would be the property of those who would treat her as a toy made her sick, and for some reason she thought longingly back to the days of when she was free, when her body was hers and hers alone.

Helga, Micah, and Frieda walked to the entrance of the torture chamber. The twins left, and Helga turned to the prisoner as she stepped out the door. “Rest up, little girl. You’re going to need the energy tomorrow.” To herself, just loud enough for Felicia to hear it, she added, “You’re definitely going to need it.”

Felicia heard a light switch being flicked and saw her surroundings disappear into a pitch-black void (at least this chamber wasn’t excessively cold), then heard the sound of the door being slammed shut and being locked by the turning of a key, the former sound echoing eerily throughout the chamber.

The warm tingle of urine massaging her earlobe, the harsh smell of urine invading her nostrils, and the stiffening and aching of her immobile muscles all taking their toll on her, Felicia began to sob. Knowing full well what tomorrow would bring and yet not knowing at all what tomorrow would bring, she felt the same feeling of dread she felt the night she was abducted. She felt like a prisoner on Death Row. She closed her eyes even though she knew she wasn’t going to be able to sleep that night.

End of Part 7

A/N Well I hope everyone but Felicia enjoyed that. And remember, if you enjoyed that, you are a perverted sinner. Due to responsibilities and whatnot that I have in real life, I can't say when exactly Part 8 will be out, but I will strive to get it out as soon as possible. Be sure to rate and review this story, leave questions, comments, and suggestions, and be on the lookout for "Felicia the Cheerleader" Part 8! MUAH! Goodnight, everybody! :wavingguy
 
i gotta tell you the humour that you inject throughtout this story saves it from being a thoroughly sadistic torture horror from hell. very well written and soo descriptive i could feel poor felicias terror myself. anyway like her i have to ask what did she deserve to be rewarded in such a way? its a great story and i look forward to your next installment whenever you have the time to write. the things that go thru your mind, you have a creative imagination and a unique sense of style that i enjoy.

isabeau :bouncybou
 
i love these stories because of the way you write it most people writing a story like this would take it too far or not far enough you seem to get it perfect
 
isabeau said:
i gotta tell you the humour that you inject throughtout this story saves it from being a thoroughly sadistic torture horror from hell. very well written and soo descriptive i could feel poor felicias terror myself. anyway like her i have to ask what did she deserve to be rewarded in such a way? its a great story and i look forward to your next installment whenever you have the time to write. the things that go thru your mind, you have a creative imagination and a unique sense of style that i enjoy.

isabeau :bouncybou

i must agree, im sure when people read this story not only do they enjoy it, but some of them may feel some sort of connection to the characters, which makes a good story. Yet, im hoping this doesnt get any more graphic then it is. Even if you dont wanna stop continuing the story...at least kill one or a few of these evil evil people off lol.
 
isabeau said:
i gotta tell you the humour that you inject throughtout this story saves it from being a thoroughly sadistic torture horror from hell. ]

I take it that's a good thing. What exactly are the prerequisites of being a "thoroughly sadistic torture horror from hell"? And honestly, I wouldn't count this as too far off as one.

isabeau said:
anyway like her i have to ask what did she deserve to be rewarded in such a way?

What did she do to deserve this? Mmmm, nothing really. The family is just uber overprotective and generally crazy.

creepyclown99 said:
i must agree, im sure when people read this story not only do they enjoy it, but some of them may feel some sort of connection to the characters, which makes a good story. Yet, im hoping this doesnt get any more graphic then it is. Even if you dont wanna stop continuing the story...at least kill one or a few of these evil evil people off lol.

Thank you, but geez, you really are desperate to see one of the bad guys get offed, are you? Maybe I'll include you in the story as the hero who saves the day. "Creepyclown99 in................Rambo 4: Felicia the Cheerleader". That would be interesting, I would say.

A quick Super Saiyan smiley before I go, because DragonBall Z rocks :ignite: and I am off to actually continue on Part 8, which by the way is partially completed and will hopefully be out soon. Good bye...........for now :evilha:
 
^^^haha that would be awesome, id love to outst one of them lol. And yes dragon ball Z is awesome....especially the uncut versions they are showing on Cartoon Network at night.
 
Uncut version? Forget that, man. I got the manga!
 
yea of course its a good thing would i post anything negative? i'm not that way. and looking forward to part eight.

isabeau
 
bumpity bump i will bump two of these series a day to give new readers a chance to see the suffering of poor Felicia. saved only by jkb's unique sense of humour...... fantastic series i must say deserves to be read again

isabeau
 
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