tickledgirl
3rd Level Blue Feather
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2005
- Messages
- 5,615
- Points
- 0
The Sweet Revenge Series
#3
The Last Long Laugh
Something was tugging at her wrists and ankles. #3
The Last Long Laugh
Bonnie's eyes popped open just as the mechanism of the rack gave a final squeak and fell silent. She tried to sit up and couldn't. Her naked (but *why* was she naked?) body was totally immobilized, stretched almost, but not quite, to the point of pain.
But what was going on? Where *was* she? Bonnie's mind was a blur. She remembered...she remembered... she *couldn't* remember anything except...
No good. And it was hard to think, hard to concentrate, when you were lying naked on some kind of torture device, with your wrists tied together and your arms above your head and your legs spread and your ankles bound to the ends of an iron bar...
The tarry odor of the rope and the sharp scent of her own cold sweat tickled Bonnie's nostrils. With some difficulty, she raised her head a little and took a look around.
The rack appeared to be placed in the middle of a large, bare room. The walls were built of rough, uneven gray stone blocks. Though she couldn't see the floor, Bonnie had the feeling that they were constructed of the same material. Oddly, however, for the room was otherwise well-lit, it was impossible to see the ceiling. There was nothing up there but a kind of haze...
"Hello?" Bonnie called in a small, fearful voice. "Is anyone here? Where am I?"
"Hello, Bonnie. Nice of you to drop by."
Bonnie's head twisted in a futile effort to see who had spoken. The voice -- a throaty female voice with a mocking edge -- had come from somewhere behind her. But she couldn't see -- she couldn't see a thing.
"Be patient, dear." The unseen woman chuckled in a way that made Bonnie's stomach flutter. "We're going to have plenty of time to get to know one another, you and I."
"Who *are* you?" Bonnie asked. "And where *are* we?"
"My name isn't really all that important," the woman answered. "Why don't you just call me...Dominique?"
That stopped the breath in Bonnie's throat. Dominique was *her* name -- her *weekend* name, as she'd always thought of it. Mistress Dominique, the High Priestess of Hilarity...who just *loved* to tie up pretty girls and tickle them silly...
So this was some kind of payback! It had to be! Bonnie smiled. Whoever had gone to all this trouble was going to be in for a big surprise. Because Bonnie, though she loved to tickle, wasn't ticklish herself. Not even a little. Not at all.
"Dominique" stepped to the foot of the rack and Bonnie finally got a look at her. She was a tall, slender, striking blonde with icy blue eyes and lush red lips. She was wearing a simple black form-fitting jumpsuit, presumably with boots -- Bonnie thought she had heard the heels tap across the stone floor.
"All right," Bonnie said, smiling up at the woman. "Let's get this over with. Do your worst."
Dominique smiled. "I told you, dear, there's no hurry. For the moment I just want to feast my eyes on you. I've always been partial to dark-haired girls -- especially when they're so... voluptuous."
Bonnie blushed and she squirmed a little. Her firm, ripe breasts jiggled.
Finally, with a sigh, Dominique took Bonnie's right big toe between her thumb and forefinger. "Time for your punishment to commence, dear."
She bent back the toe and, with her free hand, dragged a long, sharp nail down the center of Bonnie's bare foot.
"Aahhhh!" Bonnie squealed in surprise. "That *tick-hick-hickles*!"
"Really?" Dominique grinned. "How about *this*?"
Her fingers danced over the heel of the foot. "Aahh-haa-haa-haa!" Bonnie yelped. "Haa-aahh-haa-haa-haa!"
Something was wrong. Something was *very* wrong, Bonnie realized as Dominique's nails moved to the tender arch of the foot. "Eee-hee-hee-eee-hee-hee-hee!" she yelped. "Aah-haa-haa-aah-haa- haa!"
It *tickled*! What Dominique was doing *shouldn't* be tickling her silly, Bonnie insisted to herself, but it *was*.
She tried to suppress her laughter, tried to ignore the effect of Dominique's ministrations, but it was no good. "EEE-HEE-HEE- HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE!" she screamed as the ticklish sensations shot up her quivering leg. "OH PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEESE! DON'T TICK-HICK-EEE-HICK-HEE-HEE-HEE-HICK-HICKLE MEEEE-HEE-HEE!"
"But you're not ticklish, dear, isn't that so?" Dominique drawled, drawing a fingernail along the side of the foot.
"OH-NO-OH-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO!" Bonnie howled. "AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-AH-HA-HA!"
Dominique was using both hands now, stroking delicately with her long fingernails, and Bonnie was literally screaming with laughter. Tears streamed from her eyes; spittle flew from her wide-open mouth; gooseflesh roughened her skin. In the remote corner of her mind not concentrated on the horrid tickle-torture, Bonnie was certain that another five seconds -- another *instant* -- of this hilarious anguish would drive her mad -- or kill her. But that didn't happen. No, the tickling went on and on.. and Bonnie laughed and laughed...and the exquisite, unbearable sensation grew not less but *more* intense as Dominique stroked, stroked, *stroked* -- !
At some point in the proceedings, her tormentress switched to the opposite foot -- not that it mattered to Bonnie. She was too busy trying to draw breath between long, frantic, high-pitched shrieks of hysterical laughter to note such a minor detail. And when Dominique finally relented, Bonnie went right on laughing. It took her many minutes to regain some semblance of control over her tickle-tormented body -- and then she began begging for mercy.
"Please...*please*...don't...tickle...me...any...more..." she wheezed. "I...can't...*stand*...it..."
"But Bonnie dear, that was just a *taste*, just the merest *sample*, of the torments I have in store for you." Dominique's lips curved up in an evil grin and she laid a hand on her victim's trembling thigh. "So I'm afraid that you'll simply *have* to stand it."
"You can't!" Bonnie wailed. "You'll *kill* me!"
"That's the least of your worries now, dear." Dominique chuckled. "You see, Bonnie, you're *already* dead!"
Oomygod *no*!" Bonnie wailed.
"It's a bit late to be invoking His name, I'm afraid." A glint of red appeared in Dominique's eyes. "You belong to *us* now -- and specifically to *me*."
"This can't be *happening*!" Bonnie moaned.
Dominique laughed then. It was a terrible, booming laugh that seemed to strike Bonnie with the force of a physical blow. She screamed as the realization hit her -- damned, damned to Hell for eternity!
"That's right," Dominique nodded. "You're damned, my dear. Damned to an eternity of tickling!"
The rack to which Bonnie was bound twisted like a live thing. In an instant, she found herself upright, arms high above her head, legs spread. The rack had turned itself into an open wooden frame. Her ankles were secured by ropes to the bottom corners of the frame; her wrists were tied together and secured to an iron hook. The frame creaked, extending itself slightly to tense Bonnie's body.
"In Hell," explained Dominique, "things are arranged -- and rearranged -- to suit the needs of the moment." She stepped forward and patted her victim's cheek. "I think you're going to find this next procedure rather...absorbing."
She stepped back and snapped her fingers. Instantly, a pink, fleshy tentacle, about the thickness of a woman's forearm, sprang up from the floor in front of Bonnie like some demented plant. It had a blunt end which, as she watched disbelievingly, divided itself into three slender tendrils with feathery tips. They waved back and forth in front of her face. Then the center tendril darted forward. Bonnie felt it brush her belly just below the navel. She wiggled and her ripe breasts swayed. That seemed to attract the attention of the other two tendrils, which lengthened themselves and bent to lightly touch the tops of her breasts.
A moment later, Bonnie felt something touch the small of her back. She moaned. Something touched her sides, just below the armpits. She squirmed. Though she couldn't see it, Bonnie knew that another tentacle had grown out of the floor behind her.
"Please -- wait -- don't!" she begged. "I'm in the wrong *place*! I didn't do anything *bad*!"
Dominique shook her head with mock regret. "Sorry, Bonnie, but The Authority, as we call Him down here, isn't what you'd call politically correct. He has this rule against 'unnatural love.' as it's called in The Book. Just the fact that you liked girls would have been enough to land you here."
Bonnie squirmed a little and the tendrils responded with a series of light, rapid strokes. She yelped.
"Better not move, dear." Dominique's lips twisted up in an evil, gloating grin. "If you hold perfectly still while we're chatting, they won't tickle you."
Bonnie made her muscles freeze.
"That's better," her tormentress said. "Now, as I was saying, if you'd come to us with nothing on your soul but the sin of unnatural love, we'd simply have tossed you into the Fiery Pit. That's were the run-of-the-mill damnees go." Dominique chuckled. "We get far too many of that type to provide them all with personalized service."
"But what did I *do*?" Bonnie moaned.
"You tickled, dear." Dominique held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. "In itself that's not a sin -- but surely you haven't forgotten about poor Gloria? I'm afraid you got just a bit carried away with *that* young lady. Didn't she end up in a mental hospital -- tickled silly, as it were?"
"I didn't *mean* to!" Bonnie protested. "It was an accident!"
"Yes, well, that 'accident' placed you in my hands for individualized attention, dear." Dominique laughed. "And the irony is that poor Gloria sent you here. She escaped from the loony bin, tracked you down, and shot you. Then, alas, she shot herself -- for which sin of suicide she has, of course, taken up permanent residence in the Fiery Pit. So you see, Bonnie, you've actually quite a lot to answer for."
"I'm *sorry*!" Bonnie insisted. "Sorry! SORRY!"
"Not as sorry as you're *about* to be," Dominique added. She snapped her fingers again.
'HIIIIEEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEEE-HEEEE!" Bonnie screeched as the belly tendril circled her navel and dove in. "AAAAH-HAAAA- HAAAA-HAAAA-HAAAA-AAAAH-HAAAA-HAAAA!" she added as two more tendrils began to explore her tender, defenseless underarms. "OOOOH-NOOOO-OOOOH-HOHOHO!" she howled as the tops of her breasts began to be stroked.
It was absolutely *unbearable*, and Bonnie writhed with an energy born of desperation as the tendrils methodically tickled her to pieces. She screamed hilariously, hysterically, at the top of her lungs, with scarcely a pause to draw breath. And the more she screamed, the more she struggled, the more intense, the more unendurable, the tickle torture got.
"Why Bonnie," Dominique drawled at one point when the victim's laughter had faded momentarily to a hitching wheeze. "You're actually tickled pink!"
It was true. Every square inch of her bare body was crawling with gooseflesh, covered with a delicate cold sweat, and flushed a pale shade of pink. The only exceptions were her face, which was positively crimson with laughter, and her light-brown nipples.
"Heeeeeeee..." Bonnie wheezed. "Eeeeeeeeee...heeeeeeee..."
The torture was a horrid as ever, but she was becoming too exhausted to respond to it. Her struggles had faded to a feeble, continuous trembling.
"Well!" said Dominique. "I believe you're ready for my next surprise, dear."
She snapped her fingers and the tickling stopped. The tendrils paused for a moment, then slipped into new positions. Two zeroed in on Bonnie's nipples, which stiffened in response. One wrapped itself around her right thigh and poked its tip between her legs. Two slipped around her waist to brush her belly. And the last one, the one that hadn't yet stirred from the small of Bonnie's back, trailed down to touch the very top of the cleft of her buttocks...
Bonnie moaned.
The tendrils at her breasts began to tease her nipples. An instant later, the pair at her belly started moving in slow swirls. Then the one behind went to work on her sensitive asshole while the one between her legs snuggled into Bonnie's rapidly moistening slit... and *wiggled*...
Bonnie wiggled back. "Ooooooo!" she moaned. "Aaaaaah!"
Her body, super-sensitized by the merciless tickling, responded eagerly to these new caresses. Bonnie's belly rippled. Her nipples extended themselves to the max. Her asshole loosened to admit the teasing tendril. Her leg muscles tightened. Her back arched. Her hips began to thrust.
"I'll bet you'd like to *cum*, dear -- wouldn't you?" asked Dominique. She smiled. "I'll bet you'd like to cum your silly little *brains* out."
"Oooooh yes!" Bonnie moaned. "Yes pleessssee!"
"Maybe I can help." Dominique snapped her fingers. The tendril probing Bonnie's asshole wiggled deeper. The one between her legs stroked just a little harder...
"UUUNNNGGGHHH!" she grunted. "MMMMUMMMPH!"
Bonnie drove her hips back and forth in a desperate effort to make the tendrils go *deeper* -- but somehow, no matter what she did, it was never *quite* enough. The tendrils on her breasts and belly kept up their delicious caressing, but the two that were teasing her secret places always drew back when Bonnie began to feel herself getting *close*. So she tried harder. And harder. But it was no good.
The horror of it dawned on her, then. The tendrils had her poised right at the *edge* of orgasm -- but they were never going to push her *over* that edge! Bonnie begged. She wept. She pumped her hips.
Dominique just smiled coldly.
"Really," she laughed in answer to Bonnie's frenzied pleas, "you didn't actually expect me to let you cum, did you Bonnie? That's not the way things work down here..."
It went on and on, until Bonnie was positive she'd go crazy (but you can't go crazy in Hell), and when it ended, Dominique put her through another extended session of full-body tickling. When that ended (after several lifetimes), and Bonnie's mind ceased to reverberate with the hideous sound of her own screaming laughter, she found herself in a new place.
Sand. She was buried up to the chin in sand.
Bonnie tried to move and found that she'd been buried in a kneeling position with her arms bound behind her back. Her ankles were also tied together. So there was no way she was going to dig herself out.
A booted foot appeared in front of her face. "Comfortable, dear?" It was Dominique's voice. "I hope so, because I'm going to have to leave you here for quite a long time."
Bonnie kept her mouth shut. For the moment, at least, she wasn't being tortured. Maybe if she kept quiet...
"I have pressing business elsewhere," Dominique went on. "No rest for the wicked, you know. But don't worry! I guarantee you won't be bored."
A slender, fleshy tendril rose out of the sand not three inches from Bonnie's face. It had a delicate, feathery tip.
"I should be back in, oh, a millennium or two, dear." Dominique leaned over and patted Bonnie's cheek. "Bye now."
She was gone -- and Bonnie was alone with...
The tendril waved back and forth. Bonnie followed it with terror- stricken eyes. It moved closer to her face. It was aiming for...for.. .
Bonnie's eyes crossed in an effort to keep the tendril in focus as it moved closer and closer...and stroked the bridge of her nose.
Bonnie sneezed. Then she giggled hysterically. Then she started to scream --
She didn't *stop* screaming for a very long time.
Nice story tickled girl !! I enjoyed it very much. Always like dungeon settings for tickle torture. Nothing better than having a nude girl stretched on a medieval rack waiting to be tormented.....
