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A different kind of hell

Marauder

3rd Level Red Feather
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Apr 17, 2001
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A different kind of hell

By Marauder

It was a gloomy All Hallows Eve and the Coven met for what was to be the last time. Seven young women, all with an unhealthy interest in the occult, gathered in their secret hovel to dabble in the mystic arts. Little did they realize that sometimes it pays to heed the old warnings of witchcraft and beings from the pit...

Diane was their leader. 5‘7‘‘ tall and thin to the point of being starved, she had been called anything from Scarecrow to Beanstalk in her educational career. Though she was attractive in an emaciated sort of way, her habit of putting on make-up to further elaborate her pallor and keeping her hair colored deep black and cropped short made her a stereotypical freak. As a compensation, she had set up the Coven – a convention of similarly outcast girls who tried to embrace the witchcraft of old and passed their time walking the gothic path, dressing up in black lace and silk and trying to impersonate the concept of cynical morbidity. Besides Diane, who was the oldest of their circle with her 23 years, there were six more members :
Shii, a Vietnamese standing 5‘2‘‘ tall, who was 21 and always kept her eyes hidden from the world behind huge shades, kept her hair as short as Diane, and who also hid her lithe body with multiple layers of black jeans, leather and silk;
Rain, also 21, but towering over her peers with her 5‘9‘‘ and wearing only the flimsiest of clothing to cover her voluptuous body, and proudly displaying her jet black hair easily reaching down to her waist – she had been ostracized from society once she was outed as a lesbian by a jealous ex-girlfriend;
Cassandra, a 20 years old mousy bookworm, who kept her straight hair at shoulder length and only dressed in plain black clothes to hide her lack of female curves – she was 5‘4‘‘ and very underdeveloped;
Gina and Bridget, identical twin sisters who were 5‘6‘‘ tall, 19 years old and absolute knockouts, but who had had developed an attitude of superiority and simply despised everybody in general and the world in particular following childhood abuse – Gina kept her hair long and straight down her back, while Bridget had hers shaved;
And finally Nora, the youngest of them, who had just turned 18 – she measured 5‘5‘‘, had short black curly hair and a cheerful disposition, which she desperately tried to change to a depressed one since she only wanted to belong.

This Halloween, they had gathered in Dianes room to try an invocation Shii had discovered in an ancient tome found in the heirloom of her great-grandmother, who had been a witchdoctor in her village. They squatted around the pentagram they had laid out with crystals, feathers and candles and prepared to work the spell. Until now, all their charms had failed to archive anything, so they went about the preparations with a distinct lack of zeal. "I wonder why we even keep trying", Bridget frowned while stroking her bald head. "It won't do anything, anyway." The rest of the Coven thought similarly, but had the decency of shooting her accusing looks. Diane finally answered : "It will work. We have all read the book, and Shii says her grandma was looked upon with respect and fear. She had power, and we will get some of that action." Shii nodded, but had a worried look on her face. "It also said something about consorting with demons in that book. Are you sure that's the right kind of magic for us ? Aren't we supposed to work white magic ?" she asked. The rest of the girls looked at Diane quizzically. She replied with an aggravated tone in her voice, "Who cares ? So if it means going to hell, what about it ? It's probably full of heavy metal and slam dance down there. I'd prefer that to some fluffy pastell-colored cloud anytime. Maybe we even get to be demons. Satan ain't all bad, you know ? That's just church propaganda to get all the sheep to behave." The girls nodded approvingly. Yes, the cristian church was not to be trusted. Diane was probably right. Nora lit the last candle. "Done ! Want to get started ?" she asked with a hopeful smile.
They all took each other by the hands, and Diane began chanting a strange tune, while Shii quoted a text in Vietnamese from the book. The rest of the girls began to swing back and forth, trying to get into the flow of the ritual. They kept this up for almost ten minutes, then stopped in frustration. Nothing had happened. "Why didn't it work ?" Diane asked furiously. "This sucks !" Bridget sneered and kicked some of the items forming the protective circle about. Cassandra stared at her, then whispered "You broke the circle..." In fear, when Things started to happen. Shaped poured out of the shadows, grasping the girls in talons of steel and holding them fast, as the room began to swim and disappear before their terror-filled eyes. Shortly after, they found themselves in an iron-walled chamber with no visible exit, and a sound like the beating of a mechanized heart could be heard pounding somewhere in the distance.

"Where the fuck are we ?!?" Gina screamed. Cassandra pointed at Bridget accusingly. "She broke the circle !" Bridget grinned maniacally. "Yeah ! And don't you know – it worked ! Something happened !" She was almost hopping with glee. Rain looked around. "Looks like a vault or something. No wasting time girls. Start looking for the exit." Diane nodded approvingly. Just as they were about to begin, the walls shook with a dark, disembodied voice. "Welcome."
Each one of the young witches froze in her tracks. Slowly, their hackles rising, they scanned the room for the source of the intimidating voice. It had seemed to come from everywhere at once. Surprisingly, Nora was the first to break the silence. "Who's there ?" she asked as the others were still frozen. "You should know that. You have summoned me." The voice displayed a notable lack of emotion. Nora looked at Shii and Diane alternately. "Er... whom did we... ?" Shii shifted around, mumbling, while Dianes face lit up like a christmas tree. "It's him !" She exclaimed enthusiastically. "It really is HIM !" "Who ?!? What are you talking about ?" Nora was becoming increasingly worried about their situation. "I am the fallen one. I have many names." The voice sent chills up the girls spines. Nora blinked rapidly. "You didn't... I mean, we didn't... Are you going to tell me we tried to summon Satan ?!?" Diane nodded eagerly. "Sure we did ! What did you think witches do ?" She faced one of the walls and lifted her chin proudly. "Well, oh great and almighty prince of darkness, don't you want to offer a deal ? Power for our souls or something ?" The reply came promptly. "No. I already have your souls, and your bodies as well. You have not taken the precautions necessary for your ritual. I owe you nothing." Diane looked at the others until her eyes came to rest on Bridget. "You complete bitch !" Bridget grinned. "Hey Satan, what about you make me a demon for making this possible ?" Again, the voice answered. "No. You too will share the fate of your Coven. Your souls have been forfeited as you dabbled in a ritual this potent." "Oh yeah ? And what fate will that be ?" Bridget asked disappointed. "Observe." The voice replied, while one of the walls slid into the ground, revealing a room filled with horrors.

A seemingly unlimited chamber, intersected by steel walkways and criss-crossed by chains, stretched into the distance. Gone was the soft sound of distant pounding. Now, the air was filled with screams and the desperate pleading from the raw throats of the legions of hell's unfortunate inhabitants : Young women were suspended everywhere, bound to sinister looking bondage contraptions, and each one attended to by demons and infernal machines. As the young witches stared upon that in horror, they realized that this was definitely not what they had imagined hell to be. There was no blood; in fact, the tortures inflicted upon the victims seemed... peculiar. And the screams – they could be mistaken as laughter...
Diane shook her head slowly. "Tickling ? That's it ? Is this some kind of joke ?" She turned around to face the rest of the witches. "Can you believe it ? This is ridiculous. Let's beat it." Only then she realized the varying reactions the sight of hell had on the women. While she herself was disappointed, Shii looked upon it all indifferently, preoccupied with thinking of a way out. Rain seemed disgusted, while Cassandra was staring at the floor, trying to block out the sounds. Gina and Bridget, however, looked at the tortures before their eyes with genuine horror, as they were extremely ticklish, and Nora was practically climbing the wall she had pressed herself against, trying to force herself through it backside first, while she shook her head in desperate denial.
"You will not be given an opportunity to leave. You are here for ever, young witches, to be tortured for your sins." To back this statement, chains whipped into the chamber, wrapping themselves tightly around each girl and dragged their catches kicking and screaming into the hall beyond, each one to her eternal reward.

Diane found herself pulled into an evil looking chair, tilted 45° backwards, chains wrapped all around her struggling body to hold her absolutely fast. Her feet were tied upon a high pedestal in front of it. A grinning abomination approached her. It looked like a distorted vision of a businessman, with a large, shark-like jaw and completely red eyes that lacked lids as well as mercy. Its fingers tapered off into cruel looking claws. With swift motions it took off her shoes, ripping open the toes of her stockings and peeling them down from her feet, baring them. They were size 8, slender and long, with equally long toes and smooth, low arches. She only shot it a disrespectful glare. With a flourish, it took a soft looking feather from one of its pockets and brought it in contact with her left sole. Looking for a reaction, it stared into her face as it began stroking the feather up and down a few times. She smirked. "Ha. Ha. Ha. How horrible. I'm being tickled." She yawned. "You will wake me up when I fall asleep, right ? I wouldn't want to miss anything." The reaction she received was an evil chuckle from the beast. It left her for a few minutes, during which she was forced to listen to the desperate screams for mercy and the peals of laughter from tickle hell's unfortunate residents, only to return with a strange looking device mounted on a hovering platform. It took two manacle-like appendages from the device that were connected to it with large tubes and proceeded to attach them to her ankles. It then pressed a button, and she felt a short sting as a few needles stung into her skin where they were fastened, and then the device began to pump something into her body. Her skin started to tingle. "Ouchy. Needles, hm ? Well, I'm not scared of injections, either." The thing only kept on smirking. It left the device running for about ten minutes, during which she continued insulting it and it continued ignoring her. Then it pressed another button, and the pumping stopped. Again it held up the feather and brought it close to her sole. "Oh my, redundant useless torments. What have I done to deserve such a fate ? Do you really think that boredom is so horrifying that I will repent anything ? I..." She closed her mouth abruptly as the feather made contact with her left heel. Something was not right. She felt every tendril of the it ! And they did definitely feel unpleasant. As her eyes widened in terrified understanding, the thing grinned even broader and gently let the feather glide toward her toes, ever so gingerly stroking her soft soles. Dianes eyes slammed shut, her mouth flew open, and she let out a horrible scream as she felt true foot tickle torture for the first time in her entire life. Her torturer let the feather make a few more passes over her low, silky arches, swirling it around the small balls of her foot and dabbing it between her toes. As she tried to clamp down on it with them, ten small chains descended onto her toes and pulled them back, leaving her soles quivering and utterly defenseless. Now it was able to stroke the long stems of her toes at its leisure, and it made ample use of the fact. It kept tickling her desperately twitching soles for only a few minutes, but for her it was an eternity of unbearable torment, forcing gut wrenching bouts of tortured laughter out of her shaking, sweat bathed body and driving her to the brink of insanity. When it finally put the feather down, she needed almost two minutes to stop screaming and giggling as residual sensations kept repeating the tickling of her tortured soles. She forced her eyes open again, blinking to get the tears out, and opened her mouth to beg the thing not to torture her like that again, but as soon as she did she realized by its demeanor that it would be useless. Remembering just how horrible it had tickled and shuddering in terror, she could not help herself anyway. Her mouth started begging instinctively as a method of self preservation. "Please ! Please not again ! I learned ! I'll do anything !" The thing merely pointed straight ahead of her, towards the end of the platform she was tormented on. It seemed that the platforms were mobile, for in front of her eyes a number of other places of torment drifted by. She saw to her horror screaming young women strapped down as she was now, all of them being tortured in a wide variety of ticklish ways and each one more sensitive then her predecessor. Some had their ribs kneaded, some their feet stimulated by strange and horrendous implements, some felt feathery torments on their necks, while others had nimble fingers probing their knees and some who had been really evil in life felt all of those tortures and many more in sequence or even all at once, driving them to hysterical insanity. Like a wheel of misfortune, the scenes of terror spun around before her terrified eyes, until they came to a rest showing her the fates of her doomed sisters.

The first platform that came to a halt before hers was occupied by Shii, albeit not alone. Shii was chained facedown to a table, her legs right-angled up at the knees. Around her ankles were the same horrible bracelets that Diane wore herself. At the foot of the table stood two beings dressed in rags, thus completely hiding their features. They generously wriggled their fingers over Shiis upturned soles, a rather difficult task since they were only size 5 with short, small toes and the demons tried to keep all their fingers in contact with them at all times. Shiis arches were also flat and smooth, further reducing the effective, ticklish surface. But being demons, they kept their enthusiasm and let Shii down a road of unbearable tortures. Diane judged from the agonized, crazed look on Shiis tear-streaked face and from the shrieks of breathless laughter coming from her wide open mouth that Shii, too, had been generously injected with the abominable substance that had turned tickling from a mere distraction to a nerve-dissolving torture for herself. When one of the creatures became aware of Dianes horrified staring, it lifted one of its hands for a short wave, then immediately lowered it back on the soft sole it was treating to such a tickle fest. But the short glance at its hand had shown Diane what Shii had been taught through the enhanced sense of touch of her helpless, tickled soles : Its fingers seemed blurry, for they tapered off not into normal fingertips, but into a multitude of minute, bristly tentacles, all wriggling expertly on their own account and increasing the ticklish sensations the hands inflicted almost a hundred fold. While Shii desperately shook her head no and struggled in vain to escape her tight bondage, the two demons kept tickling her poor soles with nimble precision, driving her to wish for death every second of her tortured existence.

Shiis platform drifted out of sight, and with a rattle of chains, another one was lowered into Dian's view, this one the final resting place of Rain's tormented soul. Her desperate laughter told Diane of her injection even before she saw the bracelets on the poor womans ankles. She was kept company by a demon that looked exactly like the girlfriend that had betrayed her and openly told everybody of her lesbian inclination. Rain was lying on a soft looking bed, wrapped cocoon-tight into a blanket and fastened to the bed with broad leather straps. The demon knelt at the foot of the bed, lovingly licking at the size 10 soles, cherishing the long toes and the broad balls of the feet, enjoying every square inch of the high, deeply wrinkled arches and causing Rain the utmost ticklish agony. As if this wasn't enough, she tormented the sole she was not licking with her long and very sharp fingernail with staccato strokes that further increased Rain's misery. Rain's body bounced rapidly on the bed, but the bonds held tight. She screamed and cried with laughter, trying to beg for mercy but succeeding only in shrieking incomprehensible gibberish. The demon only laughed and kept licking with its tongue, which was covered with soft bristles, feeling worse than any goats tongue had ever felt on the soles of a sinner in the dark ages. The demon even took the time to taunt Rain now and then with little remarks about her sexual desires and the sensual licking she had so enjoyed in her life and which was now perverted into a most dreadful punishment, and often remarking how big her feet were, so embarrassing to her in life and now only so much space to lick and tickle forever, no longer flaws in Rains beauty but the receptors of her eternal tickle torture.

This time, it was Dianes platform that rotated with the clanking sounds of heavy machinery, and as it came to a stop, she was forced to behold Cassandras fate. The poor girl was tied to a rack hand and foot, with an additional leather restraint holding down her hips. She had been stripped of all her clothing, her hardly developed, pale and shaking female body on display. The rack was surrounded with machines sprouting mechanized arms that hovered menacingly near her armpits, belly, ribs and knees. Her face was clamped up desperately as she was trying to hold in her laughter. For her feet were being stimulated with rotating brushes that took great care to scrub every bit of the lovely size fives, focusing mostly on the high, smooth arches and the short stems of the round toes, which tried to seize up into fists but were powerless against the evil brushes that invaded every nook and cranny of the tortured soles, which had of course also been rendered hyper ticklish by the hellish machine that was fastened to her ankles. As Diane watched in compassionate horror, unable to imagine how much those brushes had to tickle, but fearing to find out first hand, Cassandra lost her self control and burst out into a series of breathless guffaws, strangely unsuitable for her small frame. But these guffaws changes into shrill, piercing shrieks as her laughter had activated the arms positioned around her bound body and led them to tickle her sensitive spots with reckless abandon. She threw herself around as little as she could, shrieking and screaming as pneumatic fingers invaded her armpits, her ribs were kneaded by rubber prongs, her belly was dusted with evil, playful tickles by mechanical hands and her knees were poked and prodded by electrical fingers. Her laughter reached a fever pitch and became almost inaudible. This continued for quite some time, but somehow she managed to force her mouth shut and endure the tickling silently in the vain hope that the tickle torture of her body would finally stop. But it kept coming, and her willpower was put to a cruel test. Just as she was about to break again after five minutes, the machines ceased their ticklish attacks on her, and only the brushes on her feet kept up their ticklish task. Her platform began to descent, but Diane could judge from the desperation on Cassandras sweating face that she would not last much longer, and true enough, just as the platform left her sight, she could her Cassandras renewed outbreak into shrill laughter, followed by the whirring noises of the machines resuming their torturous duty.

The next platform that was raised into view was fitted with a complicated contraption. Bridget was seated on it, her feet bared and held by metal clamps around her ankles and each individual toe, holding them absolutely motionless. Her body was encased in metal strips that formed a basket seat. In front of this, more metal casings held her tormentress - her twin sister Gina, who's hands were fixed in front of her sister's size seven soles with their short, well rounded toes and medium, smooth arches. She knew these feet well, as hers were exactly alike. Every ticklish and sensitive spot was known to her, and since the feet were so totally helpless, she had no trouble making her sister convulse in the throes of ticklish agony. But she was motivated by more than just revenge for Bridgets kicking open the protective circle and thus trapping all of them here forever, for she was forced into a kneeling position by her bonds, and behind her, in front of her soles that were trapped with the lovely toes pointed down by clamps similar to those holding her sisters feet, sat her demon - it looked exactly like her mother. This monster took great pleasure in torturing the trapped soles in front of her with her long, red fingernails, stroking and scratching the quivering flesh and savoring the tortured howls of forced laughter she coaxed out of her "daughter". This was not all there was to the sister's eternal tickling, however. Beside the contraption sat another demon, looking like the girls sadistic father, who held in his hand a remote control. He used this to operate a machine, the same type that had been used to increase the sensitivity of the others, and which was attached to both girls ankles with those accursed bracelets. It looked as if he turned it on for Bridget when she was laughing, and for Gina when Bridget managed to stop. This forced Gina to take great pains to tickle her sister's helpless, twitching, soft soles with extreme concentration. She memorized which techniques worked best, repeating them as often as possible on the most ticklish spots, while her own body shook with desperate laughter from her "mothers" ministrations. It looked as if Bridget had received the most attention from the infernal machine. Her bald head had a sheen of sweat, and her body was cramped up as silent screams left her wide open mouth. Diane shuddered, remembering that both girls had always been extremely ticklish. Thinking that their sensitivity was increased constantly here... She was only glad that it wasn't her writhing inside the devilish contraption. As if on clue, her platform raised and turned simultaneously, leaving the sight of Bridgets and Ginas torture a dark memory. After a while, even the gales of laughter from the two terminally ticklish twins lost themselves in the din of tickle hell.

As the platform came to rest, it faced the place of Noras torture. The little girl was in a straight jacket, lying on a hospital stretcher, fastened with leather restraints. Her size 5 feet with their low, slightly wrinkly, pale arches were locked in metal stocks, her short toes individually tied back with small chains. Two demons were seated on chairs facing her soles, working on them with soft brushes and metal implements. It looked as if they were experimenting, and they dressed the part, looking like perfect mad scientists in their laboratory whites and their face masks. They used the brushes to apply powders, jellies and bubbling fluids to the rapidly reddening soles, scratching and poking them with the metal things afterwards as if testing for reactions. There were photos of Noras feet in various sizes and shades of red on the three walls surrounding the platform, as well as stylized diagrams of the soles and many printouts. The whole scenario was topped with a huge sign, reading "The Follower Syndrome : why some girls will follow any kind of fashion without conviction, and how to cure it." The doctors did a thorough job of testing her unfortunate subject, who had the unlucky quality to never age now she was in hell and thus could be studied forever. Diane didn't doubt that Nora had been cured the first second the treatment started, for she displayed all signs : the desperate screams, the incoherent pleas and the throwing about of her bound, small body. But the demons had no intention of freeing her, for they were interested only in the most complete cure : the cleansing of all sins from this mortal girl's eternal soul, and this could only be achieved through eternal torture. There was no respite for her; her helpless soles, hypersensitive in life as in death, were going to feel the tickling touches of these monsters forever.

The platform rotated from view. Diane waited for the next one in dreadful anticipation. She was startled by the sound of pumping emanating from the device connected to her ankles, and turned towards her own nemesis in horrified disbelief. It was standing next to her, grinning sadistically while looking at a display on the machines side. "Oh god no, please no more ! I can't stand to be tickled again ! Please, let me go ! I will do ANYTHING ! Oh please no, turn that horrible thing off ! Don't make me more ticklish ! Oh god, NOOOO !!! TURN THE FUCKING THING OFF !!! PLEEEASE !" She knew with terrible certainty that every second the device was pumping that stuff into her she was growing more sensitive. She was certain that she would die the next time anything touched her soles. She had been so ticklish the last time she was tortured, there was no way she could survive any more. Then, she remembered Gina and Bridget, and suddenly realized that this was hell, and there was no limit to a girls ticklishness down here. And there was no death to escape to. So she screamed at the demon and begged it to stop the device, promising anything she could think of, but to no avail. When it did turn it off at last after a long time, she had been lying silently and breathless in terrified silence for many minutes, trying to think of anything but the imminent hellish tortures awaiting her feet. She heard the pumping stop, opened her eyes in dreadful anticipation, looked at her tormentor, saw him raise the feather again and prepared to scream - only to let out a relieved but surprised gasp when it put the instrument of torture away. It grinned once more, put a small box on the floor next to her chair, and left. She just started hoping in vain to have been forgotten, when it returned with three more of its kind. They opened the box and each one took out two feathers, one in each hand. But these were not like the one the demon had used before - while that one had looked like a fluffy, wispy thing, while these were pitch black and looked very stiff, menacing, and incredibly ticklish. Her eyes widened once more in horror as the four demons took their places at her feet which were trying to cramp up but stopped by the chains around her toes, and before she was able to beg or scream, four feathers descended upon each of her defenseless soles and began a ticklish dance that caused her to loose her mind immediately. They stroked her soles everywhere, sometimes sawing between her twitching toes, sometimes drawing circles in her arch and then zipping up and down her instep. This was continued unabated. Just when she thought it could get no worse, she received the reminder that she had been the leader of the witches coven and thus deserved the greatest torture of all, for not only was the machine activated once more by a fifth demon that had appeared, but a crown of metal was lowered onto her head, and suddenly she felt every ticklish touch that tortured her sisters as if it was happening for herself, but once more increased by her own sensitivity. She felt Shiis soles twitching under the maddening torture of twenty tentacle-tipped, tickling fingers; The bristly tongue and sharp fingernails dancing, prancing and gliding merrily and torturously all over Rain's trapped feet; Cassandras tortures while the rotary brushes kept her soles in a state of over-stimulation, while her whole body was aflame by the tickle machines around her (Now Diane had all the more reasons to wish for Cassandra to control her laughter); More fingernails ruthlessly ravaging the twin pair of soles of Bridget, tortured by her sisters able hands, and Ginas feet undergoing similar tortures by her 'mother'; and of course, Noras small soles under the none-too-gentle tickle torture ministrations of the doctor-demons. She knew now that all the girls were in agony, but of course her own ticklish fate far surpassed their demise. And so , while she was shrieking like a banshee with frenzied, tortured laughter and her soles twitched in vain, growing more ticklish by the second, her platform traveled into the depths of tickle hell, where all evil women are tortured for ever, paying for their sins by screaming with laughter in eternal torment.


If you liked this tale of ticklish torture, pay heed ! You can read more of my works, along with many other pieces of high quality fiction, in Tales From The Asylum, the ultimate resource for fiendish tickling fiction and art, and on the magazine's website -
http://www.MTJpub.com !
 
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Very good. But it needed more upperbody tickling. But great story none the less.
 
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