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Corrine in the Magician's box mff*/F Horror, Sexual, Dark, Non-concensual
New story following on from my Christmas one (Kind of). I am about to part a bonus I removed from the bit with the ***. Any other asterix's link to its content
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Corrine dangled her expensive black high-heels from her toes as she watched the show, frustrated and bored that she found herself in this run-down British seaside resort with its faded trappings of former glory. At 26 years old the tall American brunette had hoped her career as a journalist would have progressed in leaps and bounds, but after 4 years of university and dedicated hard work ever since; Corrine found herself a junior correspondent for a failing local newspaper on Britain’s south coast. She should have ditched Matt after the first year of unsatisfying work and gone home to America but instead had rented a flat and tried to make their relationship work. Her frustration and anger was channelled into each scribble on her note pad; these tired old variety acts would suffer her wrath. Since Matt left for ‘the other woman’ Corrine had to ended up sharing her flat with a loud, abrasive woman whose accent she could never understand. As a result these dusty old Brit’s would get scathing reviews.
The last act was atrocious anyway, Corrine wasn’t sure if this was a talent show or if these people were payed but she underlined the words: crumbling, garden variety & amateurish in her notebook. The next act seemed to be magicians; a husband and wife team; the man resplendent in a black cape and top hat with a waxed moustache, his wife wearing a skin-tight sequined leotard. Corrine scowled and thought of what terms she should insult them with but it was hard to place their exact appearance or age, they seemed to shift as they positioned the box on stage looking old one second and young and spry the next. Corrine guessed what the box was for, it was the tired old: ‘sawing a woman in half routine’. She was right, the magician’s glamourous assistance climbed into the box which was composed of two sections upon eight little caster wheels with holes for her head and wrists at one end and her ankles at the other. Corrine winced as the glamourous woman’s ankles were secured in the little stocks. She hated the idea of being restrained or confined being claustrophobic and extremely ticklish.
Before coming to Britain to study she had been tricked by some so-called friends into taking a picture in the stocks at a renaissance fair. The eighteen year old Corrine had presumed she would be safe as there were no locks on the heavy wooden stocks. But two of burly football players had held the heavy wood down on top of both her ankles and wrists which were held in line in four little holes that seemed to fit them perfectly. She had screamed as the other popular girls had flicked her shoes off and started tickling her feet with their long sharp nails and hairbrushes and other things from their purses. Meanwhile football team had laughed and explored her sides and legs with their grasping, goosing poking fingers.
Some people even started filming it on their phones and the videos had come back to haunt Corrine when studying abroad. Every now and then her fellow students would start laughing and produce a video of her feet being held back by the toes and tickled with fingers or feathers. No matter how angrily Corrine got when these videos emerged, everybody would just laugh stupidly as the bad crackly audio of her laughing filled the room to accompany the pointy end of a feather tracing up and down her pale sensitive arch or however she was being tickled.
The memory of this hellish humiliation injected new fervour into Corrine’s spiteful anger at the spectacle she beheld. The magician had even flicked off his assistant’s shoes for her perfect feet to flex and curl for the audience. As he placed the white high heels on the box Corrine thought to herself: ‘Ah so this is going to be the version where they bend down inside the base of the box and it only moves apart by a foot and a few inches, not the version with fake feet!’ Corrine’s anger only grew as the magician gave his assistant a few foot-tickles for the crowd who laughed in the exact same stupid way people laughed at the videos of her teenage humiliation. Soon he was sawing through the middle of the two segments and then placing two thin rectangular metal sheets through as his wife wiggled her feet. With a flourish of showman ship the magician separated the two halves of the box and spun them on their caster wheels such that his wife’s head spun clockwise as the compartment that contained her wiggling feet spun anticlockwise as her feet curled in their shiny sheer nylons.
Corrine was the only person in the crowd not to be amazed. Corrine hated feet but was impressed with the display of wiggling toes; there was no way those were fake!... ‘They must have another in the lower compartment wiggling their feet whilst the woman who came on stage is a contortionist!’ Corrine thought to herself as the boxes came to a stop such that the glamourous blonde looked up at her own feet a few inches away.
Corrine’s certainty was challenged as the magician undid hinged panels on the sides of the box allowing the audience to see through at his assistant’s long sexy legs and heaving buxom chest that those and fell with exhilaration. All but Corrine exhaled in surprise at the sight of her nylon and sequin clad body split in two and put on display in a grotesque reversal of nature and logic. ‘Mirrors!’ Corrine thought to herself: ‘They must be using Mirrors somehow!’ This latest theory was almost instantly disproved as the magician reached through the four open panel’s to tickle his wife’s side and the backs of her knees to the crowds’ merry approval. Corrine was too busy being repulsed and horrified to wonder how the trick was done anymore. The magician moved the box closer such that his assistant started tickling her own flexing feet.
“Well that proves it’s fake! You can’t tickle yourself!” She whispered with venom to no-one in particular.
Everyone in the theatre was applauding except Corrine. The two compartments were returned together and the magician threw a black cloak over the box declaring;
“And now my glamourous assistant will disappear before your very eyes!” He declared.
With a twirl and flourish he whirled the cloak in the air as the organ piped its merry tune. There was a flash of light and bang, a dozen doves flew into the air and both the woman and the cloak was gone revealing the empty box. Taadaa! The magician exclaimed as the organ music matched his tones. Corrine scowled; ‘How could everyone not realise how cheesy this was!’ Then suddenly the magician seemed to gesture straight at her.
“Please give a big round of applause to my lovely wife!” He declared as the audience turned to look at her.
Corrine was confused and looked around, some of the audience seemed to being looking at her and laughing whilst others were looking behind her. After a few angry seconds of confusion Corrine twisted in her seat to turn and see the magician’s assistant posing and posturing in her sequined costume, blowing the audience kisses as they applauded and cheered.
“Twins!” Corrine suddenly announced aloud, realising that there must be a trap door and the woman behind her was the twin of the woman she had seen in the box.
“Oh do you think so! You are very kind to say!” The magician’s assistant giggled.
Corrine hated the woman, was she really that much of ditz or was she making some kind of joke. Corrine did not have time to respond the magician was asking for a volunteer from the audience, her heart was racing. There was something very wrong, something that disturbed Corrine; when the magician drew the crowd’s attention to his assistant she had definitely been looking at her instead! She had felt his yes meet hers, his bright cold, old eyes full of malice and sadism. Corrine had shivered and wanted to rid herself of experiencing the entire evening; first the trick which she hated that she could not explain and then the magician’s gaze, it was like he had somehow got into her soul.
“Yes we have a volunteer! You with the lovely dark wavy hair!”
Corrine was in shock, the magician’s assistant had grabbed her by the wrist which was up in the air eagerly despite her never intending to raise it. Before she knew it she was walking down the steps of the aisle between gawping seated Brits grinning their stupid grins. Corrine tried to talk wanted to cry out; ‘No! I didn’t raise my hand! How are you doing this! I don’t want to!’ but she couldn’t find her voice, it was like someone else was controlling her. Before she knew it she stood trembling on the stage in her elegant purple top, professional black skirt that came to just below her knees and black nylons finishing her long sexy legs at her expensive black high heels. She shivered in fear and realised her predicament. ‘They are going to put me in the box! They are probably going to tickle me!’
Corrine wanted to turn and run but before she knew it she was climbing into the box. The magician had asked her name and what she did for a living, somehow she had obeyed as the bright lights shone down. As the wooden box closed over her ankles, wrists and neck Corrine wondered if she had been drugged or hypnotised, she could feel the wood padded with supple leather around her skin but had no control over moving her limbs. It was as though she were inside her body but not in charge of it.
“Do you think you can get out?” The magician asked her with an evil leer, he always liked to return control of his victim’s bodies to them at this point.
Corrine suddenly panicked and started kicking and struggling, her expensive high heeled shoes starting to slip from her heels. It was like she had been placed back into her own body all of a sudden now that she was in this terrible predicament. She felt the box stretch her out perfectly despite knowing she was several inches taller than the ditzy blonde. Her knees just barely went up and down inside the lower compartment of the box and her elbows thumped and banged against the old wood.
“Oh my God! I can’t get out! No! I don’t like it! Please let me out! Corrine wailed her claustrophobia setting in.
“Let you out, but we haven’t started!”
At her heels she felt the blonde apply a slow steady pressure to the backs of her expensive shoes causing them to slide slowly up her heels, the cool air greeting her sensitive nylon-clad arches.
“No stop it! Don’t take my shoes off they are worth more than you are!” Corrine snapped angrily humiliated and desperate at the loss of control.
“Oh a lively one!” The magician exclaimed to the crowds’ approval, they were loving the show and Corrine’s sudden panic.
“I am just worried you will lose them dear, how about I put them on top of the box where my husband put mine” The blonde purred slowly taking away the protection of Corrine’s prized high heels.
The American brunette tried to cry out; ‘Please God don’t tickle me!’ She felt the words form in her throat, felt her common sense tell her not to shout anything at all and then lost all control.
“Please gods just tickle me!” She heard her own voice cry out.
The crowd laughed; half heard what she really shouted the other half assumed she was begging for mercy. Corrine couldn’t believe what had just happened, it was like the way her hand had been realised without her volition or the walk to the stage. The magician laughed;
“You heard her folks! But just say it again in case some of them didn’t hear you!”
Corrine looked out to the crowd who were half concealed by the dazzling limelight, she couldn’t see their faces but hoped if she could cry out someone would save her from this nightmare: ‘No I don’t want this! Don’t let them tickle me! Somebody help!’ she tried to shout, focusing her mind and trying to defeat the presence she had felt since the magician had looked into her eyes.
“Noooo! I want this!” She heard her own voice shout, the word don’t being omitted.
“Tickle me! Tickle me! Somebody tickle me!” Her voice rang out desperately.
“With pleasure!” The magician declared reaching through both open compartments and squeezing Corrine’s sides with his white gloved hands. Corrine squealed, at her feet the blonde had started using her sharp nails to skitter a devilish dance over Corrine’s stocked soles. Her nails knew just where to go and predicted the path of Corrine’s frantic flailing soles perfectly. Corrine struggled, laughed and thrashed;
“Ohh hoho haa haa haa! Ahahhaahaha!” Her sweet voice laughed, this was the most humiliating thing for Corrine. She hated to be tickled but had the sweetest most submissive laugh.
At university after the renfaire videos of her had been discovered both male and female students had made a game out of tickling her. It became an initiation challenge for a large number of clubs to have their new members seize Corrine and pin her down and give her a thorough tickling. To add to the humiliation each impromptu session was filmed on camera phones to prove the prank had been done. No matter how much Corrine raged afterwards her sweet melodic laugh was used to support the theory that; ‘you like it really!’
Corrine stopped going to parties as these stupid Brit’s kept asking her; ‘are you the American girl who likes to be put in the stocks and tickled?’ As bad as the idiots not getting she hated it some true sadists had trapped Corrine right at the end of her last year and given her a hard-core torture session that had left her traumatised and claustrophobic***. as she raged and struggled inside the box she had a deep dark sinking feeling that her current predicament would be the same if not worse.
The crowd roared in approval as the tickling continued, the terrible wooden box spun on its caster wheels slowly turning to give the crowd a view of Corrine’s struggling feet and then her long sexy legs and buxom chest. Her captors kept pace as they slowly turned the box round and around. Corrine was getting dizzy and well as hysterical. The woman at her feet was tickling her the worse but somehow the magician scared her more. She tried to cry out: ‘No I don’t like it! I don’t like it! No more! Please no more!’. But all that came out through her delicate peals of laughter was;
“I like it! I like it”! More”! More!”
Her captors laughed and kept tickling until eventually they decided Corrine’s public humiliation was over and it was time to move onto the next phase. The magician announced to the crowd that it was time for the trick to begin. As much as Corrine hated the tickling she was genuinely afraid as the box was closed up, the little hatches the magician had accessed her legs and side through being closed and locked.
“I think she asked us for more tickles because she was afraid of the saw! I can assure you there will be no pain or blood but I must close these windows into out victim’s soul as I cannot reveal the nature of the magic I shall use” The magician explained to the crowd.
Corrine was too hysterical to notice any sensations as the magician’s saw ran up and down through the gap between the two compartments of the box. She was still feeling ghost tickles and so overwrought with fear and panic it was not until the first of the two thin metal rectangular sheets were presented that she regained enough composure to take in the awestruck audience. With true showmanship the two thin metal sheets were presented and inserted, Corrine’s reactions were priceless, there was no pain but she truly panicked. With a click the two little hooks that held the compartments together were undone and each half of her was spun as the magician’s assistant had been spun earlier.
“Aaaaaarrrrrgh! How can this be?! HOW CAN THIS BE?!!!!” Corrine screamed as she spun feeling her head spin one way and her legs and feet spin the other.
Her captors laughed, her reactions were priceless and genuine, Corrine was truly panicking as she felt the wind against her nylon clad feet, felt the centripetal force on her upper body as it span one way and every nerves in her body tell her that her legs and feet were spinning the other way. Just as she was becoming too dizzy she was brought to a stop, looking up she saw her own feet nervously fidgeting in their sheer nylons.
As Corrine caught her breath the little long rectangular windows were opened for the crowd to see her long sexy legs and upper-body. Corrine’s heart raced causing her chest to rise and fall with panicked breaths. She couldn’t really feel the metal panels, she could see the crowd lean in to try and see where her body met metal inside the box but none had a clear view. Corrine remembered what the magician’s assistant had done earlier in the show, it was a repetition but the crowd was loving every moment. The magician’s assistant had seemed thrilled to be cut in half whereas Corrine’s panic added to the trick’s authenticity.
“Okay! Good trick! But let me out now! Put me back together first then let me out of this box!..... Please!.....” She begged.
“Try and give your soles a tickle first, for the audience! Then we will put you back together again!” The Magician purred, his voice terrifying Corrine but delighting the audience.
Corrine reached out and ran her fingers over her nylon clad soles feeling her own fingertips and nails but not laughing until the glamourous assistant gave the backs of her knees a quick tickle.
“Well there you go folks! As you all know you cannot tickle yourself!” The Magician declared to a roar of laughter and approval.
True to their word the box was reassembled and the thin rectangular metal sheets removed. Once again though the Magician declared he would make Corrine disappear. With a flourish of a black cloak he seemed to produce from nowhere she was gone and the box was empty. The crowd looked around astonished to see Corrine sitting back in her seat.
“Give out lovely volunteer a round of applause! Wasn’t she was amazing!” The magician cried aloud.
The visage of Corrine waved, wiggling her fingers seductively. She would go back home to the confusing shouty woman who had moved in to pay Matt’s half of the rent. And she would write the best reviews of her life that saves the struggling paper’s life. Corrine however was terrified. One second she had been inside the box inside, the next she felt herself spinning again, only this was different she was spinning into darkness. When the terrible spinning stopped she was still inside the box only she wasn’t on stage anymore. The magician and his assistant looked down on her from inside what looked like a musky theatre store room with hundreds of small wooden boxes or drawers lining the walls above shelves bearing feathers and an assortment of other tickle tools amongst the details Corrine couldn’t take in.
“Where am I?” Corrine asked groggily.
“Our hammer space!” Came the replied from the magician his voice a sadistic raspy whisper without the pomp and showmanship of before.
“What?! Let me go! People will miss me!... I have a housemate!” Corrine spat; angry that she had been kidnapped and confused as to how.
The magician just laughed and clicked a button causing an old cinema projector to whir into life. There was the faint tinkle of the piano music the typically accompanied old silent films. Corrine’s eyes widened as it shone black and white film onto a faded white screen. There she was waving in her seat as the magician and his wife took a bow. The screen turned black with white words in old fashioned writing like the silent cinema had used decades before:
“Didn’t she do well?! Our lovely volunteer Corrine!”
Next Corrine saw a vision of herself at home with her laptop. The black screen came up again only this time the words read;
“Thank you so much for the review!”
As the film projector stopped Corrine and the old fashioned piano music faded away Corrine panicked.
“What are you going to do to me!” Corrine wailed.
“Tickle you! Torture you! Copy you!” The magician hissed with a malevolent leer.
“No don’t tickle me!.... What do you mean copy me!” Corrine pleaded.
“We shall merge your true physical form with that of the copy we made after we have had our fun with you on stage! As well as the copy-box we used to bring your true physical form here we have others that we shall use to create duplicates of certain body parts we find appealing, these shall take longer to produce as they will have a permanent neurological and psycho- spiritual link to your mind, body and soul!”
As the Magician spoke Corrine saw him as he truly was, the vision of the twisted old man was shorn from the glamour of the handsome showman he wore like a mask when presenting amongst humanity. His assistant was different too she maintained the young appearance but her eyes were totally black, inky black wells into nothingness surrounded by a few crow’s feet under white stage make-up.
“Copy box…. Duplicates…. Soul-bond? No please! Just let me go!” Corrine wailed, breaking down and blubbering: “This isn’t happening!.... This isn’t happening!” Over and over.
“Well you are half right! This is happening! Just not in your reality, but since you are a guest in our reality everything we do will feel…. Real!”
As the magician spoke he dug in using his terrible claw like fingertips that had grown through his white gloves to tickle Corrine’s nylon clad soles.
“Aaahh! No! Haha! Haha! Please No! Haha! Haha! NOOOO!” Corrine wailed as his expert fingers followed her flailing feet.
The Magician’s wife giggled as she explored the backs of her knees through the open side panels of the box. Corrine desperately tried to evade her uncannily precise ticklish touches that softly tormented her. It was like the woman had two elbows and four wrists! Corrine couldn’t twist to see how she was doing it, but the soft touch of the glamorous woman’s fingertips traced gently over her thighs as well as caressing the backs of her knees. Suddenly Corrine realised her nylons were gone. Her captors cackled knowing that this caused the precise change in tone of panic.
“We can do whatever we like to you here my dear!” The Magician hissed in his terrible voice.
And just like that Corrine felt her toes tied back tightly like her hellish ordeal at the swimming pool*, she tried to struggle but there were strong cords binding each toe and splaying them out.
“Oh my God! Please just let me go! I don’t deserve this!” She wailed as she was given a brief respite.
“You don’t deserve this for your voodoo?” The magician asked, feigning intrigue.
“Wha?... Voodoo?.... I have never!…..” Corrine stumbled.
“Voodoo! You cause harm to others far away with a sharp implement!” The magician explained as he began to trace Corrine’s pen over her soles leaving a swirling pattern of black ink at first punctuated by several swift stroke as his hissed the words: ‘sharp implement!’
Corrine screamed before dissolving into sweet melodic laughter. She just knew it was her pen the magician was using, the one she used to take notes. She struggled hopelessly and tried to look for a way to escape. Desperately she looked from side to side her vision mostly restricted by the box. Suddenly she realised there were two glamourous assistants standing to either side of the box each accessing her ticklish body through both little hatches. Corrine screamed in protest as she felt hands exploring her upper body and her legs.
“You said you thought the trick involved twins!” The two sequined women purred in unison.
The glamourous blondes continued to giggle. Corrine couldn’t believe her eyes; suddenly they seemed to shift and split like cells during mitosis. Now there were four women; each equal and identical, each reaching both hands through the little rectangular hatches to tickle Corrine. Corrine felt their hands explore her entire body in an impossibly precise ticklish assault. The box shook as she screamed and thrashed, there were hands tickling her everywhere from her neck to the backs of her ticklish knees in an unpredictable and perfect pattern. The four women did not clash or bump into one another but moved as a single entity, which in truth they were.
At Corrine’s soles the magician had traced ink all over her soles to create a living scribble monster that swirled and swivelled tickling Corrine as it did so. The living doodle was composed of the memory of each ticklish touch of the pen which echoed, reverberated and shifted inflicting themselves on her suffering soles over and over again as they darted back and forth in time. Corrine couldn’t see what was happening but felt the tickling sensations on her sensitive size nine feet, it was like her soles were being tickled by a thousand pens at once.
“No!!!!...No Please!... I don’t deserve this! I don’t deserve this!!!!... No!!! Oh my God!!!... I don’t deserve this for writing bad reviews!.... Stop please!.... I don’t deserve this!!!!....” Corrine wailed.
“You don’t deserve this but you are going to suffer it anyway! You are out helpless tickle toy and powerless to stop us!” The magician cackled.
He had begun to use two feathers to tickle Corrine’s toes that were un-tormented by the scribble monster apart from two small squiggles of ink that danced on the pads of each of her big toes. He traced the plumes under her toe-stems in a swishing motion occasionally using the quill side to add to the prickly sensations of the scribble monsters he had created. All of Corrine’s captors laughed as she was pushed beyond her limits of endurance. Suddenly she broke and with the last of her energy she shouted;
“NOOOOO! STOOOOOP!!! PLEEEEAASE! I WI-HIL-ILL DO AAANYTHIIING YOU WAAA-HAHA-ANT!!!!! PLEASE STOP!!!”
“Stop?” The magician asked quizzically, adding: “But we haven’t even started yet! We are just having a little fun before-hand…”
As she spoke the magician wiped away the scribble-monsters from Corrine’s feet. Through tear-blurred eyes Corrine saw that there was only one glamorous assistant again. Pathetically she blubbered;
“What are you going to do to me? No please seriously I hate being trapped like this just let me go!...”
“What are we going to do? We have already told you! Perhaps a demonstration is in order!” The magician concluded, rapping his cane on the floor.
As if in answer to the rat-a-tat-tat of his silver tipped cane all of the strange oblong boxes opened. They were lined up and stacked on shelves all along the walls. Slowly the front of each box opened on a hinge and bracket such that the front descended like the drawbridge of a castle. What Corrine saw shocked her to the core. Inside each box she could see a female foot; some squirming, some sleeping, some desperately trying to keep still.
“Oh my God are you going to cut of my feet!” Corrine screamed in terror.
“Not exactly, you remember how we duplicated you. Well this is our…. Collection! A little souvenir from each volunteer! A little something to remember each joyous encounter, and something to ensure you will never forget your time with us!”
“This can’t be real!... This can’t be happening!” Corrine wailed as she watched the soles flex and writhe in their little boxes.
The boxes were arranged in pairs. The ones Corrine could see well had little old fashioned dials that contained the words ‘Awake’ or ‘Asleep in red and green letters respectively against an arc of white. The ones that were ‘Awake’ remained motionless whilst the so-called sleeping ones squirmed and wriggled. Feathers, brushes and pointers extended from the open front of the boxes to stroke at the heels and arches of each ‘sleeping foot’. Corrine could see that each pair of ‘Awake’ feet within her field of vision were trapped in a box that contained the same dormant equipment upon the inside of the front panel that had opened. As Corrine looked closer she saw that some of the feet were toe-tied and others had evil little brushes exploring their toes and insteps from the sides and back of the boxes. This was truly nightmarish and Corrine thrashed willing herself to wake up.
Her captors just laughed and approached with two of the little boxes that were presently vacant. So far the boxes were made of two parts. The first contained only the top and sides of the box which slid into place over little catches to either side of Corrine’s stocked feet. With these in place Corrine’s soles were still exposed as were the underneath of her heels. Cruelly her captors gave her a closer inspection of the second parts which contained the same tickle tools that she had witnessed torment the multitude of feet lining the walls. The cruel devices extended and wiggled in front of her eyes like the legs of a beetle upturned onto its back. Corrine could just tell that they would tickle worse with the box closed. An impossible array of wide and narrow paintbrushes, feathers and even forks greeted her eyes each swirled and clawed menacingly at their creator’s command. Corrine was aware that such an arrangement was mechanically possible but nothing about this place seemed to make sense.
With another rat-a-tat-tat of the magician’s cane the ‘sleeping’ feet were returned to their slumber of torment whereas the near motionless soles whose owners were presently awake remained on display, twitching slightly every now and then. The magician’s assistant made her way around to a few of the soles Corrine had spotted merely pretending to be asleep, their dials betrayed them as did the tickling tools still teasing their heels, ankles and toes. Cruelly the sequin clad djinn tickled each set of soles with her long glamourous fingernails. It was like a dance from a music video; she would turn and tickle as she walked along the row of soles, still remaining at the previous set as another copy of her swirled and swooped upon her next prey. Looking down the stocks Corrine saw another copy of Magician’s assistant standing there with the front and base of one of the terrible foot-prisons.
“What?! No!! How?!!!” Corrine whined.
“I can extend the female part of my psyche into multiple forms, she is part of me and not me! Your kind will never be able to understand!” The magician explained as if irritated by his victim’s confusion.
It had been a long time since the pair had been cast from the heavens like a bubble of consciousness with smaller bubbles forming all around. They had taken many forms on this rock throughout the ages but had settled on this visage over a century ago after spending almost as long travelling with a circus.
The base and front of the boxes were fixed in place completing the confinement of Corrine’s soles against the stocks. Corrine screamed as the tickling devices set to work against her toe-tied soles exploring every inch of her arches, heels and toes. It was worse than the scribble monster that had left her feet feeling ultra-sensitive. It was strange, earlier when the magician wiped it away with his handkerchief the soft silk felt exactly like a thousand scrubbing brushes. So far Corrine’s soles were only being tickled from one direction and as she laughed and struggled she watched some of her captors’ souvenirs suffer the same treatment from all sides.
Corrine tried not to think about how her soles might be separated from her body to take their place in this terrible collection but could see guillotine-like devices amongst the equipment scattered around the room as well as smaller versions of the thin rectangular metal sheets that had been used to split her in two on stage. As she laughed and begged her captors secured two small jars over each of her flailing hands.
Corrine looked from side to side as she watched the dark glass tubes slot into place over the same kind of catches she presumed were holding the boxes over and around her feet. It was strange, she hadn’t noticed these catches before now. It was like when her nylons were whisked away, one moment they were there the next gone. She had noticed the same phenomenon with her ticklers and the tools they used, things could exist from nowhere and disappear just as easily.
Corrine flexed her fingers inside the dark glass jars, spotting the same kind of jar hanging in rows upside down under the shelf of feet. She had no idea what her captors were trying to do but dreaded finding out. For now though they closed up the four hatches on the sides of the large box. Next they opened up the top of the box, extending the two halves of its on hinges until they stood proudly up such that they ran parallel with the sides of the terrible torture box. Corrine heard and saw metal clips being extended, elegant brass supports were extended and met in the middle above her, keeping the two halves of the lid in place at the head, foot and middle of the box. Corrine didn’t understand what they were doing any of this for and didn’t care she just wanted the terrible automatic foot tickling to stop. No machine could tickle her this badly as the brushes, feathers, pointers and other devices were random and unpredictable unlike any tickle tool animated by springs, motors or any form of man-made contraption. Worst of all the little tickle toys knew where to tickle and targeted her worst spots.
Corrine was laughing and begging as the captors carried over the jars suspended from two planks of wood. Each plank was placed on the arrangement of brass devices so that the jars hung ominously above her. Looking down Corrine could see that the jars were like the ones that had been placed over her own hands, they were of dark glass with metallic screw caps like a mason jar. Corrine hadn’t noticed this detail on the jars that held her own hands, there was a lid past her fingers and her wrist entered through the base of each jar. Suddenly she spotted something moving inside one of the jars and panicked as she recognised the unmistakable wiggling of fingers through the dark brown glass.
“Oh my God Nooooo!!!!!!!” Corrine screamed as each of the jars started slowly unscrewing their lids.
Never could Corrine have dreamed of such a terrible sight. The tickling devices slowed to let her savour the moment that each jar opened its lid swinging to a stop on its wire catch and one by one terrible tickling hands dropped towards writhing body. Cackling madly the magician clicked his fingers and Corrine’s top and skirt were gone leaving her in her lacy black bra and panties. The shock of her sudden exposure drove Corrine to a hysterical thrashing madness that no amount of tickling could produce. One second the first hand was dropping from a jar just within her reach, the next it landed on her bare stomach that had been clothed moments before. One by one more hands dropped, had Corrine retained a hint of sanity they would have reminded her of ‘Thing’ from the Adams Family but instead they just drove her into a frantic thrashing lunacy as each hand dropped to begin caressing and tickling every inch of bare flesh.
Still laughing evilly her captors picked up the planks of wood and turned them over to reveal fresh unopened jars that slowly began to unscrew. The Magician’s assistant had triplicated herself to make this trick possible, Corrine didn’t even challenge this affront to the laws of physics, she just screamed a primal howl of rage as more and more hands were added to the sea that roamed over her sensitive flesh.
The foot tickling devices picked up the pace tormenting Corrine’s captive soles inside their wooden prisons. As much as Corrine was foot- sensitive that hands crawling over her exposed flesh were worse. As the box was closed up Corrine glimpsed a look at one of them; where the wrist ended there was a brass plate with five or six round steel rivets around its sides. Corrine screamed with horror and in laughter. The hands were exploring every inch of her; the backs of her knees and thighs being a favourite, alongside her tummy and underarms. Several had started playing with the catch of her bra and started sneaking in to squeeze her breasts. The hands were not as skilled as those of the magician and his assistant but somehow that made it worse as did the way they fought over her.
Corrine didn’t know how long this torture lasted. The magician and his assistant tickled the boxed feet lining the walls, taking their pick of those that had been awoken by their owner’s falling asleep. Corrine could have surmised that she suffered this way for over a day as each of the soles awoke and slept whilst their owners did the opposite in their various time zones. The hands were a true nightmare, at some point during her ordeal the magician decided she no longer dissevered her bra and panties and with a click of his fingers they were gone.
Some of the disembodied hands had already taken to twisting and squeezing Corrine’s nipples. Red in the face she flew into a rage calling the magician and his wife every name under the sun. The just laughed and produced a clear jar for her to see, inside was a hand missing its ring finger. Unlike the other hands this one looked to be male. One of the side panels was opened and the hand was added to the milieu of ticklish touches. Corrine could feel it making its way up her knee and suspected she knew where it was going. Sure enough the three fingered hand crawled over her crotch, teasing her clit as she laughed and thrashed until Corrine was wet enough for it to climb inside.
The torture seemed to last forever, Corrine was sure she should have passed out or something. She didn’t know it but she would never pass out or get desensitised to the ticklish touches. Corrine’s arousal was making everything worse, she seemed to grow more ticklish and desperate with each masterful touch of the three-fingered hand. Eventually Corrine was broken, she had not only been tickled for what seemed like an eternity but the caressing, fondling three fingered hand had pushed her far past the level of stimulation she needed to climax but somehow she couldn’t. Humiliated she cried out;
“PLEASE STOP!!! I WILL DO ANYHTING!!!! STOP WITH THE TICKLING AND LET ME CUM!!!! I WILL SUCK YOUR COCK!!!! I WILL EAT OUT THIS SLUT’S PUSSY!!!!”
Corrine kept screaming until a ball-gag appeared with a click of the magician fingers her torture would continue; there was nothing she could do to stop it, nothing she could offer them that was better than the sweet pleasure her desperation gave them.
Eventually her captors decided it was time for the next phase and with a click of his fingers the hands were gone from inside the box as was the ball-gag. Menacingly two versions of the blonde assistant approached with the smaller rectangular sheets.
“No please don’t! Don’t take my hands for your collection!” Corrine wailed. She hated the idea of the magician keeping any part of her.
The magician just laughed as he prepared a blindfold for Corrine. The tickling devices had stopped to allow her to feel only fear.
“On three now ladies! One…. Two…. Three!”
Corrine winced as she heard the scrape and swish of metal. She felt no pain, no coldness. She flexed her hands feeling the warm air inside the far still. She felt the jars be removed but still her hands somehow felt the clammy moist air inside as well as the rush of fresh, sweet cool air. As she whimpered Corrine heard a few rustling sound and a knock and thump. Her blindfold was removed and she looked desperately from side to side to see her hands restrained but still attached. On top of the terrible box were the two jars. Grinning the magician and his now singular assistant lifted both jars to reveal a matching set of hands mounted on the same brass and steel caps Corrine had glimpsed earlier.
“No! You can’t have my hands!” Corrine wailed, desperately struggling to escape watching in horror as the second set of hands flexed in exactly the same way as her own.
“Oh we don’t want them like this!” The magician hissed, adding: “they are not nearly evil enough!”
Both the magician and his assistant breathed slowly on one of Corrine’s disembodied hands and Corrine watched in horror as a dark shadow emanated from within each of them and seemed to be soaked up by the right hand that began to tremble and move of its own accord. Corrine could still feel the sensations from all four of her hands but as her newly corrupted left hand curled and flexed beyond her control she couldn’t predict where the fingers would touch the palm or one another.
“No I don’t like it!.... I don’t like it!... I don’t want you keeping a copy of any part of me!...” Corrine wailed breaking down into tears.
“Well then!... Let us make a game if you can tickle with the hand you control as well as the one we have influenced then we shall remove our presence and let you return to your plane of existence. Should you fail, then the torture will go on and we shall keep copies of both hands and feet!”
Corrine tried to protest but her captors gleefully discussed whose soles she be brought forth for this test. Eventually they decided upon a favourite and two of the terrible little boxes were brought down from a shelf and placed on top of the box for Corrine to see. The closed boxes revealed two yellowed paper labels by the dials at the top, each read;
Mademoiselle D’Guilliame. Paris 1926
In swirly fancy handwriting with the words: (Left) and (Right) the only distinction between the two boxes. Before the boxes opened Corrine caught a glance of both dials. Instead of reading ‘Awake’ or ‘Asleep’ they simply read ‘Ours now!’
The boxes slowly opened to reveal two stocking clad feet with high arches and pale soft skin under sheer silk. Corrine knew with a sinking feeling that these were not the feet of a Centenarian French woman but those of a sensitive young woman in her early twenties or even late teens. ‘And the words on the dial’ Corrine’s mind raced; ‘even if I die they can still tickle me!...’
Her disembodied hands were picked up and placed onto special trays that the front of each box produced from their impossible array of mechanical contraptions. Corrine tried to focus on wiggling the fingers of the hand she controlled trying to gauge the distance from her hands to the expectantly squirming sole. It was so difficult and so weird but at least she wasn’t the one being tortured right now.
“And begin!” The Magician declared.
Immediately Corrine’s left hand came to life in a tickling frenzy that made the stocking-clad foot dance and squirm. Corrine could actually feel the sheer fabric and soft soles through both hands and tried hard to match the efforts of her possessed left hand with her right but it was impossible. As the foot writhed around it knocked Corrine’s right hand whilst her left hand always seemed able to predict how to move. Despite being right-handed Corrine struggled even to work out how she should move her hand and protested as her captors laughed.
“Well try them bare and toe-tied then!” The magician declared clicking his fingers.
The poor soles of Mademoiselle D’Guilliame, nearly a hundred years in the possession of these cruel spirits were now presented without their stockings tied with the same cruel cords Corrine could still feel between her toes splaying them out. Corrine was shocked and gasped in horror at this display of perverse control.
“Or toe-tied in Nylons!” The magician declared clicking his fingers again causing the nylons to return only with cords holding just the big and pinky-toes of their wearer.
“Or barefoot without!” The magician announced enjoying this display of power. The pale pink soles now curled and wiggled in anticipation, convincing Corrine their owner had been at most nineteen.
“No I think barefoot and toe-tied is best” He concluded with final click of his fingers the soft pink soles were tightly restrained with the flawless arches stretched taut without a single blemish, callous or wrinkle: a perfect canvas for torture that had been exploited for nearly a century and would continue to suffer for eternity.
Corrine knew this game was fixed and her captors had only devised it for their own entertain themselves but she tried to tickle the soft bare sole, desperate to escape the same fate herself. Try as she might she could not match the experience and cruelty her captors had breathed into her left hand. Despite loving the look of desperate concentration on their new victim’s face the duo eventually grew eager for new games and tricks. Corrine could still feel the soft skin under the fingertips of both hands as evil was breathed into her right hand making it dance beyond her control in the same way as the left.
Her captors laughed and picked up the boxes placing them back on the shelf where Corrine could see them amongst the others. A few devices activated around Mademoiselle D’Guilliame’s toes and heels. Corrine felt and heard the whir of electric toothbrushes and watched horrified as eight or more explored the perfect tied toes.
“She was not a happy woman when your kind invented those!” The magician quipped. His assistant laughed shooting him a look of true love and appreciation.
Corrine could feel the vibrations and involuntary twitches of the poor woman through her struggling soles that her freshly corrupted hands continued to tickle beyond her command. Sobbing with horror and in terror of the consequences of her defeat Corrine willed herself once more to wake up. She shut her eyes tightly and only opened them when she heard the terrible noise of the slightly larger slim metal plates that heralded the taking of her feet.
“No Please!... Don’t take me feet and tickle them forever like you did to her!... Please I will do anything!...Please just do-oh-ohhnnn’t!” Corrine wailed breaking down into floods of tears.
Corrine pleaded for mercy as the plates were positioned between the stocks and boxes, but there was no mercy here. With a swift movement the desperate brunette saw and heard the plates descend. She felt nothing where the slim blades should have cut her feet off but watched helplessly as the boxes were carried around to see. The thin metal sheets remained in their places at the stocks whilst somehow wooden backs had been added to the evil little boxes, Corrine was too panicked to see how. All she saw was the boxes slowly open revealing her own soles frantically wiggling and flexing, Corrine curled her toes too terrified to wonder what had become of the toe-ties.
“No!!! Please! Give them back! Put them back on my legs!” Corrine wailed, dreading her soles being put on the shelf with the others.
“Let’s play another game!” The magician offered approaching with two more of the evil little boxes.
“No just let me go! Give me my feet and get me out of this box! Out of this space!” Corrine pleaded.
“This game is called: ‘Find your feet!’… The magician continued ignoring Corrine’s protests.
The boxes containing Corrine’s feet were closed up so they matched the two new ones. The magician began to shuffle them, picking them up and putting them back down in a pastiche of a classic card trick. Corrine had been too frantic to pay attention to begin with and was quickly bamboozled by the magician’s uncanny sleight of hand, his hands were a blur and Corrine’s head began to spin.
“Now simply pick your boxes! Roll up! Roll up! Find your feet! Roll up! Roll up!” He cried as he finished shuffling the boxes, enjoying the return to his circus master days.
Corrine was too distraught to speak, she looked desperately at all four boxes which looked to be identical to one another. Each had the little dials at the top which showed a blank arc of white with no words. Corrine tried to wiggle her feet enough to make the boxes wobble but all four stood proudly to attention.
“If you cannot decide my dear I shall pick first, remember if you find your feet you keep them. Should I pick a box containing a ticklish foot it will be going on the shelf.” The magician chivvied Corrine.
Okay the two on the outside!” Corrine desperately cried, knowing the magician would know which two boxes contained her feet and not wanting him to pick first.
Corrine gasped as both boxes opened themselves to reveal her soft size nines that greeted the air in a dance of wiggling toes. Corrine felt elated then began to worry. Something was very, very wrong but she couldn’t place precisely what. She watched her feet move and flexed the toes of each foot in turn. Both feet on display curled their toes in unison.
“Has she realised yet?” The magician’s assistant asked gleefully.
“Not quite yet, but she knows that something is wrong…”
Suddenly Corrine screamed as she realised what was wrong. Both boxes contained her left foot! Two identical soft ticklish size nines frantically struggled in front of Corrine’s eyes in near unison, yet another impossibility. Cackling the magician opened the other two boxes revealing two identical copies of Corrine’s right foot.
“You were always such a great dancer my dear, shame now you will literally have two left feet!” The Magician quipped.
His assistant laughed again, she always laughed at his jokes. Even though she had heard them a hundred times, they were all part of their cruel fun.
“No please!” Corrine begged picturing herself limping and hobbling with two left feet.
“Of course I will happily trade one of your boxes for one of mine should you wish!” The magician offered.
“Yes please!... Wait, just give me my feet back and let me go! Don’t!... I don’t want to be here!” Corrine wailed.
Two of the boxes were selected and carried over to the shelf next to those of Mademoiselle D’Guilliame which were still being tickled by Corrine’s possessed hands. Corrine could still feel the poor thing’s soles under her fingertips despite also being able to clearly see and feel her hands to either side of her head. As she struggled in the box the magician brought two of the dark jars for her to see, blowing the dust from them and presenting the label for Corrine to see. The faded cardboard tag read:
Mademoiselle D’Guilliame Paris 1926
“I think she deserves some revenge don’t you?!” The magician asked as he unscrewed the jars.
Mademoiselle Guillame’s hands were held up for Corrine to see. They were deft and small with short sharp nails. There was an engagement ring featuring a diamond flanked by two pearls. The fingernails had grown naturally into French tips whilst the pads showed that these hands had never done a day’s work in their owner’s life. It was clear that like Corrine’s hands these had been corrupted with her captor’s evil desires. They were already grasping and trying to get at some soft flesh to tickle. Occasionally Mademoiselle Guillame’s hands twisted trying to get at the assistant’s sequin clad sides but for the most part they directed their attention towards Corrine’s helpless boxed feet which had been returned to the toe-ties.
Corrine knew it was inevitable but struggled none-the-less. The disembodied hands were attached to the same tray-like appendages the Corrine’s corrupted and copied hands were held by. Having a close look, Corrine noticed that there was a little brass ball on the end of each terminal cap that clicked into the terrible clips and clasps enabling the hands to be held securely. Corrine panted frantically as the hands slowly inched closer to the soles of her feet, it seemed as though they were impatient.
The second the sharp nails touched her soles Corrine broke into wails of laughter. Worst of all the tickle-tools in the other boxes had launched a sneak attack, double-teaming her ticklish feet. Corrine laughed as she felt two sets of sensations on each foot; one she could see, and the other she could not. She wasn’t pure which was worse; Mademoiselle Guillame’s sharp deft nails and fingertips that she could watched dance over her soles, or the terrible unseen toothbrushes, feathers, pointers, quills and hairbrushes that tickled every inch of her soles that suffered on the shelf next to those of her new tormentor.
Corrine begged and wailed, broken by the tickle torture and surreal horror of her predicament. There was no need for her captors to give her a break, they could tickle her like this forever and she would still be as receptive for more torture. Still they wanted to toy with her and as she endured her terrible tickle contest they brought a new item for her see. It was strange, a long pole held a large crystal ball at about head height. Corrine could barely focus on the new object but guessed it stood on ornamental wooden legs like those of a free-standing coat-stand. Finally her tickle contest with the dearly departed Mademoiselle Guillame was brought to a close.
Corrine still felt her fingertips torment the soft bare soles, harvested almost a century before. But her competitor’s hands were cruelly pulled away by the devices that bore them so they could no longer reach her own freshly captured soles. Corrine frantically looked around, hyperventilating with panic as she dreaded what would come next. The tools tickling her boxed soles had stopped and through tear blurred eyes she now struggled to pick them out from the others on the shelf.
“Oh they’re ours now Poppet!” The magician hissed.
“No!...” Corrine pathetically mewled as his rancid breath offended her nose and eyes.
“Next we would like to show you an artefact that belonged to my predecessor at the Great Minsk Circus!” The magician declared as he gestured to the strange looking crystal orb.
As his assistant posed with the precise turn and smile used by glamourous assistants the world over the magician explained the new device. His human predecessor at the circus had used the crystal or in conjunction with mirrors to project the image of a living woman’s head inside the orb to be beheld by the fascinated, bamboozled and horrified patrons of the circus. Corrine enjoyed the respite but wondered how such an object could be used to torment her.
“But perhaps since you seem disinterested, I may direct your attention to the Guillotine!” The magician declared.
“Nooooo!....” Corrine screamed as she suddenly looked up to see the ominous diagonal blade held above her neck by new wooden supports that had not existed the second before.
“NOOO! DON’T CUT MY HEAD OFF!!!” Corrine wailed.
Suddenly a face appeared inside the crystal orb, Corrine only glimpsed it for a second but distinctly heard a voice cry out;
“Non!!! Ne me coupez pas la tête!!! Ne me décapite pas!!!!”
The new voice cried out the vision of a frantic young blonde woman swirled in the crystal ball.
“What was that!... Oooh! Why are you doing this to me!!!” Corrine wailed.
“That was just a memory, would you like to meet the harvested consciousness?” The magician asked.
Before she could answer Corrine saw the face return to the crystal ball, blinking with azure blue eyes from a face as white as cream. The angelic face was calm and appreciative. Suddenly Corrine realised she could no longer feel the soft supple skin of taut arches on her fingertips. Desperately glancing to the shelf Corrine saw that her hands hand stopped tickling and instead twisted around to wave at her. The angelic face was whispering something in French but Corrine couldn’t make out the words from her own sobbing hysteria.
“Ah somebody wants a rematch!” The magician declared as his assistant brought Mademoiselle Guillame’s soles to sit next to Corrine’s on top of the long box. The boxes were arranged so the Mademoiselle Guillame’s sat in the middle with Corrine’s flanking them. Corrine couldn’t make sense of what she saw as it seemed as though all four boxes faced towards her and away from her at the same time.
“A little Non-Euclidean Geometry for you, and in case you hadn’t noticed your hands are your own, as are your opponents….For now!” The magician explained as his assistant began the countdown.
The terms of the tickling contest were not stated by Corrine dreaded losing. Desperately Corrine tried to use her fingers to tickle the soles in front of her. She watched as the angelic face broke into delightful laughter inside the crystal ball, she spotted that the young woman wore some kind of headgear sporting a feather and felt strangely elated making the blonde laugh. Any joy turned to fear as she realised that the poor thing hadn’t been driven to insanity, her only respite from constantly torture being participation in games like this.
As hard Corrine tried however the hands tickling her own feet made it impossible for her to concentrate. Their sharp nails managed to follow her feet perfectly keeping to her arches perfectly making Corrine fumble and lose the technique with which she had achieved early success. With Corrine on the ropes her opponent’s hands varied their technique hitting her toes before sliding back down in a delicate swoop to hit that all of Corrine’s ticklish spots pushing her into a hysterical thrashing laughter that dissolved any focus to maintain her assault.
“We have a winner!” The magician declared, adding; “Which soles would you like as your trophy?”
The angelic face looked to the shelf and sweetly murmured in French as she gazed upon Corrine’s second set of soles. Her hands were taken to the boxes on the shelf by the magician boasted;
“You see this is how you do it!”
As he spoke Corrine’s hands were removed from her control and began to dance over Mademoiselle Guillame’s soles with a grace and poise Corrine could never match. The face inside the crystal ball broke into hysterical laughter unrivalled by that produced by Corrine’s efforts. As the boxes containing Mademoiselle Guillame’s soles and Corrine’s possessed hands were carried away the face slowly faded, the laughter growing ever stronger and more desperate somehow as it disappeared.
“And now the guillotine!” The magician declared cruelly.
“No not that!” Corrine wailed as the dangling diagonal blade of Damocles returned above her head.
“Take it away!... Take it away again!” Corrine pleaded wishing the terrible device of doom would disappear again as it had during her tickle-contest.
“Perhaps the blindfold!” The magician’s assistant purred approaching Corrine from behind and tying a soft silk scarf over Corrine’s eyes.
“Yes with the blindfolded you will not see the blade fall, only hear it’s swoosh and feel your head roll in the black silk sack” The magician whispered, loving the fear he induced.
Corrine trembled and curled her toes, this expression of fear delighting her captors who removed the toe-ties from existence in order to enjoy it. The words ‘Swoosh’ and ‘Sack’ filled Corrine’s mind with terror. Desperately she listened out for the falling blade her fear giving power to the auditory illusion with which she was tormented. Suddenly she heard it and felt the rushing air. Where should have come pain came the word: ‘sack’ in her mind. Corrine screamed as she felt her head roll around inside a soft black silk bag. There was no blood, no pain only disconnection and a terrifying loss of control as her head rolled and pitched her long brown hair tangling and teasing her face.
“No!... Whatever you are doing stop!.... Put my head back on! OH MY GOD THIS CAN’T BE REAL!!!!!” Corrine screamed.
Suddenly the black fabric was pulled away and Corrine looked around in fear. The view around her seemed to glimmer and was distorted. She could see the magician’s long box sporting the two boxes that bore her feet. The shelf of soles was blurred in the background and parts of it blended and split as she desperately struggled. Suddenly she realised where she was! She was inside the crystal ball like Mademoiselle Guillame had been. Corrine screamed as her captors laughed mockingly. She could see her own hands tickling Mademoiselle Guillame’s soles and began laughing hysterical as the sensations on her own resumed.
Her mocking tormentors joined in tickling the pair of feet that were trapped in the boxes now facing her. Slowly they carried the boxes to the foot of the long box. As Corrine laughed the devices inside the box reactivated keeping her just hysterical enough to realise what her captors were doing wrong. They were going to attach each of her feet to the wrong legs.
“No not like that! Don’t put them back on the wrong way!” She pleaded.
Grinning evilly her captor’s swapped places and slotted the boxes back in place. The thin metal sheets were removed with a flourish and the duo ceased all tickling for Corrine to admire their handiwork. Corrine screamed in rage as she realised they had somehow swapped her feet over anyway.
“No I said not to do that!” She screamed in rage and frustration.
Clicking his fingers with a cackle the magician swapped them back to suffer the many devices.
“JUST LET ME OUT OF HERE AND STOP TORTURING ME!!!!” Corrine wailed.
With another click of his fingers the magician returned Corrine’s to the box. Still laughing she looked from side to side to see her boxed feet suffering on the ends of her wrists. It didn’t matter that it was impossible she just laughed and begged silent pleas and protests, her hands grasping at air from the ends of her shins. With another click of his fingers the magician returned her feet and hands to their rightful places.
Corrine was broken. She could no longer tell which part of her was where only laugh and scream. Any illusion of time broke down as her captors cruelly tickled her for an eternity. Although Corrine’s torture in their hammer-space never ceased her consciousness was returned to her duplicate body which suffered the most severe nightmares for the rest of Corrine’s life.
Often she was in the box other times her feet were just being tickled by unknown hands and devices. In some dreams her captors had her in several stacked boxes to separate one body part at a time to be played with and tickled. Often the box containing her head would be turned to face the others arranged in a hellish composure of ticklish torment. Sometimes she would watch from inside the crystal ball as the magician and his assistant tickle tortured other women. In her dreams she always knew when she was tickling or watching Mademoiselle Guillame get tickled. She watched the unbearable torture of beautiful women from all over the world, being harvested from the past, present and possibly the future.
But she only knew Mademoiselle Guillame by name and those dreams were always more vivid and lasted longer after waking. She watched as the poor Mademoiselle was slowly stripped and forced to suffer the box full of disembodied hands as she had been, the petite Mademoiselle had a cute pale body with small pert breasts and Corrine awoke from a wet dream after that episode.
Aside from her nightmares there were a few days after the theatre that Corrine simply couldn’t explain. Somehow she had written the best reviews and earned a promotion despite never remembering typing or putting pen to paper. A rising star of journalism had been noticed and Corrine’s career would come on in leaps and bounds. Each night however she would be forced to watch or endure the most vivid intense scenes of tickle torture for the rest of her life until one day decades later she would be denied the respite of awaking to a mediocre world and the little dials above her perfectly preserved size nine feet turned from:
‘Awake’ to Ours Now’!
And Corrine’s ticklish soles would be tormented without respite or escape, forever!
New story following on from my Christmas one (Kind of). I am about to part a bonus I removed from the bit with the ***. Any other asterix's link to its content
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Corrine dangled her expensive black high-heels from her toes as she watched the show, frustrated and bored that she found herself in this run-down British seaside resort with its faded trappings of former glory. At 26 years old the tall American brunette had hoped her career as a journalist would have progressed in leaps and bounds, but after 4 years of university and dedicated hard work ever since; Corrine found herself a junior correspondent for a failing local newspaper on Britain’s south coast. She should have ditched Matt after the first year of unsatisfying work and gone home to America but instead had rented a flat and tried to make their relationship work. Her frustration and anger was channelled into each scribble on her note pad; these tired old variety acts would suffer her wrath. Since Matt left for ‘the other woman’ Corrine had to ended up sharing her flat with a loud, abrasive woman whose accent she could never understand. As a result these dusty old Brit’s would get scathing reviews.
The last act was atrocious anyway, Corrine wasn’t sure if this was a talent show or if these people were payed but she underlined the words: crumbling, garden variety & amateurish in her notebook. The next act seemed to be magicians; a husband and wife team; the man resplendent in a black cape and top hat with a waxed moustache, his wife wearing a skin-tight sequined leotard. Corrine scowled and thought of what terms she should insult them with but it was hard to place their exact appearance or age, they seemed to shift as they positioned the box on stage looking old one second and young and spry the next. Corrine guessed what the box was for, it was the tired old: ‘sawing a woman in half routine’. She was right, the magician’s glamourous assistance climbed into the box which was composed of two sections upon eight little caster wheels with holes for her head and wrists at one end and her ankles at the other. Corrine winced as the glamourous woman’s ankles were secured in the little stocks. She hated the idea of being restrained or confined being claustrophobic and extremely ticklish.
Before coming to Britain to study she had been tricked by some so-called friends into taking a picture in the stocks at a renaissance fair. The eighteen year old Corrine had presumed she would be safe as there were no locks on the heavy wooden stocks. But two of burly football players had held the heavy wood down on top of both her ankles and wrists which were held in line in four little holes that seemed to fit them perfectly. She had screamed as the other popular girls had flicked her shoes off and started tickling her feet with their long sharp nails and hairbrushes and other things from their purses. Meanwhile football team had laughed and explored her sides and legs with their grasping, goosing poking fingers.
Some people even started filming it on their phones and the videos had come back to haunt Corrine when studying abroad. Every now and then her fellow students would start laughing and produce a video of her feet being held back by the toes and tickled with fingers or feathers. No matter how angrily Corrine got when these videos emerged, everybody would just laugh stupidly as the bad crackly audio of her laughing filled the room to accompany the pointy end of a feather tracing up and down her pale sensitive arch or however she was being tickled.
The memory of this hellish humiliation injected new fervour into Corrine’s spiteful anger at the spectacle she beheld. The magician had even flicked off his assistant’s shoes for her perfect feet to flex and curl for the audience. As he placed the white high heels on the box Corrine thought to herself: ‘Ah so this is going to be the version where they bend down inside the base of the box and it only moves apart by a foot and a few inches, not the version with fake feet!’ Corrine’s anger only grew as the magician gave his assistant a few foot-tickles for the crowd who laughed in the exact same stupid way people laughed at the videos of her teenage humiliation. Soon he was sawing through the middle of the two segments and then placing two thin rectangular metal sheets through as his wife wiggled her feet. With a flourish of showman ship the magician separated the two halves of the box and spun them on their caster wheels such that his wife’s head spun clockwise as the compartment that contained her wiggling feet spun anticlockwise as her feet curled in their shiny sheer nylons.
Corrine was the only person in the crowd not to be amazed. Corrine hated feet but was impressed with the display of wiggling toes; there was no way those were fake!... ‘They must have another in the lower compartment wiggling their feet whilst the woman who came on stage is a contortionist!’ Corrine thought to herself as the boxes came to a stop such that the glamourous blonde looked up at her own feet a few inches away.
Corrine’s certainty was challenged as the magician undid hinged panels on the sides of the box allowing the audience to see through at his assistant’s long sexy legs and heaving buxom chest that those and fell with exhilaration. All but Corrine exhaled in surprise at the sight of her nylon and sequin clad body split in two and put on display in a grotesque reversal of nature and logic. ‘Mirrors!’ Corrine thought to herself: ‘They must be using Mirrors somehow!’ This latest theory was almost instantly disproved as the magician reached through the four open panel’s to tickle his wife’s side and the backs of her knees to the crowds’ merry approval. Corrine was too busy being repulsed and horrified to wonder how the trick was done anymore. The magician moved the box closer such that his assistant started tickling her own flexing feet.
“Well that proves it’s fake! You can’t tickle yourself!” She whispered with venom to no-one in particular.
Everyone in the theatre was applauding except Corrine. The two compartments were returned together and the magician threw a black cloak over the box declaring;
“And now my glamourous assistant will disappear before your very eyes!” He declared.
With a twirl and flourish he whirled the cloak in the air as the organ piped its merry tune. There was a flash of light and bang, a dozen doves flew into the air and both the woman and the cloak was gone revealing the empty box. Taadaa! The magician exclaimed as the organ music matched his tones. Corrine scowled; ‘How could everyone not realise how cheesy this was!’ Then suddenly the magician seemed to gesture straight at her.
“Please give a big round of applause to my lovely wife!” He declared as the audience turned to look at her.
Corrine was confused and looked around, some of the audience seemed to being looking at her and laughing whilst others were looking behind her. After a few angry seconds of confusion Corrine twisted in her seat to turn and see the magician’s assistant posing and posturing in her sequined costume, blowing the audience kisses as they applauded and cheered.
“Twins!” Corrine suddenly announced aloud, realising that there must be a trap door and the woman behind her was the twin of the woman she had seen in the box.
“Oh do you think so! You are very kind to say!” The magician’s assistant giggled.
Corrine hated the woman, was she really that much of ditz or was she making some kind of joke. Corrine did not have time to respond the magician was asking for a volunteer from the audience, her heart was racing. There was something very wrong, something that disturbed Corrine; when the magician drew the crowd’s attention to his assistant she had definitely been looking at her instead! She had felt his yes meet hers, his bright cold, old eyes full of malice and sadism. Corrine had shivered and wanted to rid herself of experiencing the entire evening; first the trick which she hated that she could not explain and then the magician’s gaze, it was like he had somehow got into her soul.
“Yes we have a volunteer! You with the lovely dark wavy hair!”
Corrine was in shock, the magician’s assistant had grabbed her by the wrist which was up in the air eagerly despite her never intending to raise it. Before she knew it she was walking down the steps of the aisle between gawping seated Brits grinning their stupid grins. Corrine tried to talk wanted to cry out; ‘No! I didn’t raise my hand! How are you doing this! I don’t want to!’ but she couldn’t find her voice, it was like someone else was controlling her. Before she knew it she stood trembling on the stage in her elegant purple top, professional black skirt that came to just below her knees and black nylons finishing her long sexy legs at her expensive black high heels. She shivered in fear and realised her predicament. ‘They are going to put me in the box! They are probably going to tickle me!’
Corrine wanted to turn and run but before she knew it she was climbing into the box. The magician had asked her name and what she did for a living, somehow she had obeyed as the bright lights shone down. As the wooden box closed over her ankles, wrists and neck Corrine wondered if she had been drugged or hypnotised, she could feel the wood padded with supple leather around her skin but had no control over moving her limbs. It was as though she were inside her body but not in charge of it.
“Do you think you can get out?” The magician asked her with an evil leer, he always liked to return control of his victim’s bodies to them at this point.
Corrine suddenly panicked and started kicking and struggling, her expensive high heeled shoes starting to slip from her heels. It was like she had been placed back into her own body all of a sudden now that she was in this terrible predicament. She felt the box stretch her out perfectly despite knowing she was several inches taller than the ditzy blonde. Her knees just barely went up and down inside the lower compartment of the box and her elbows thumped and banged against the old wood.
“Oh my God! I can’t get out! No! I don’t like it! Please let me out! Corrine wailed her claustrophobia setting in.
“Let you out, but we haven’t started!”
At her heels she felt the blonde apply a slow steady pressure to the backs of her expensive shoes causing them to slide slowly up her heels, the cool air greeting her sensitive nylon-clad arches.
“No stop it! Don’t take my shoes off they are worth more than you are!” Corrine snapped angrily humiliated and desperate at the loss of control.
“Oh a lively one!” The magician exclaimed to the crowds’ approval, they were loving the show and Corrine’s sudden panic.
“I am just worried you will lose them dear, how about I put them on top of the box where my husband put mine” The blonde purred slowly taking away the protection of Corrine’s prized high heels.
The American brunette tried to cry out; ‘Please God don’t tickle me!’ She felt the words form in her throat, felt her common sense tell her not to shout anything at all and then lost all control.
“Please gods just tickle me!” She heard her own voice cry out.
The crowd laughed; half heard what she really shouted the other half assumed she was begging for mercy. Corrine couldn’t believe what had just happened, it was like the way her hand had been realised without her volition or the walk to the stage. The magician laughed;
“You heard her folks! But just say it again in case some of them didn’t hear you!”
Corrine looked out to the crowd who were half concealed by the dazzling limelight, she couldn’t see their faces but hoped if she could cry out someone would save her from this nightmare: ‘No I don’t want this! Don’t let them tickle me! Somebody help!’ she tried to shout, focusing her mind and trying to defeat the presence she had felt since the magician had looked into her eyes.
“Noooo! I want this!” She heard her own voice shout, the word don’t being omitted.
“Tickle me! Tickle me! Somebody tickle me!” Her voice rang out desperately.
“With pleasure!” The magician declared reaching through both open compartments and squeezing Corrine’s sides with his white gloved hands. Corrine squealed, at her feet the blonde had started using her sharp nails to skitter a devilish dance over Corrine’s stocked soles. Her nails knew just where to go and predicted the path of Corrine’s frantic flailing soles perfectly. Corrine struggled, laughed and thrashed;
“Ohh hoho haa haa haa! Ahahhaahaha!” Her sweet voice laughed, this was the most humiliating thing for Corrine. She hated to be tickled but had the sweetest most submissive laugh.
At university after the renfaire videos of her had been discovered both male and female students had made a game out of tickling her. It became an initiation challenge for a large number of clubs to have their new members seize Corrine and pin her down and give her a thorough tickling. To add to the humiliation each impromptu session was filmed on camera phones to prove the prank had been done. No matter how much Corrine raged afterwards her sweet melodic laugh was used to support the theory that; ‘you like it really!’
Corrine stopped going to parties as these stupid Brit’s kept asking her; ‘are you the American girl who likes to be put in the stocks and tickled?’ As bad as the idiots not getting she hated it some true sadists had trapped Corrine right at the end of her last year and given her a hard-core torture session that had left her traumatised and claustrophobic***. as she raged and struggled inside the box she had a deep dark sinking feeling that her current predicament would be the same if not worse.
The crowd roared in approval as the tickling continued, the terrible wooden box spun on its caster wheels slowly turning to give the crowd a view of Corrine’s struggling feet and then her long sexy legs and buxom chest. Her captors kept pace as they slowly turned the box round and around. Corrine was getting dizzy and well as hysterical. The woman at her feet was tickling her the worse but somehow the magician scared her more. She tried to cry out: ‘No I don’t like it! I don’t like it! No more! Please no more!’. But all that came out through her delicate peals of laughter was;
“I like it! I like it”! More”! More!”
Her captors laughed and kept tickling until eventually they decided Corrine’s public humiliation was over and it was time to move onto the next phase. The magician announced to the crowd that it was time for the trick to begin. As much as Corrine hated the tickling she was genuinely afraid as the box was closed up, the little hatches the magician had accessed her legs and side through being closed and locked.
“I think she asked us for more tickles because she was afraid of the saw! I can assure you there will be no pain or blood but I must close these windows into out victim’s soul as I cannot reveal the nature of the magic I shall use” The magician explained to the crowd.
Corrine was too hysterical to notice any sensations as the magician’s saw ran up and down through the gap between the two compartments of the box. She was still feeling ghost tickles and so overwrought with fear and panic it was not until the first of the two thin metal rectangular sheets were presented that she regained enough composure to take in the awestruck audience. With true showmanship the two thin metal sheets were presented and inserted, Corrine’s reactions were priceless, there was no pain but she truly panicked. With a click the two little hooks that held the compartments together were undone and each half of her was spun as the magician’s assistant had been spun earlier.
“Aaaaaarrrrrgh! How can this be?! HOW CAN THIS BE?!!!!” Corrine screamed as she spun feeling her head spin one way and her legs and feet spin the other.
Her captors laughed, her reactions were priceless and genuine, Corrine was truly panicking as she felt the wind against her nylon clad feet, felt the centripetal force on her upper body as it span one way and every nerves in her body tell her that her legs and feet were spinning the other way. Just as she was becoming too dizzy she was brought to a stop, looking up she saw her own feet nervously fidgeting in their sheer nylons.
As Corrine caught her breath the little long rectangular windows were opened for the crowd to see her long sexy legs and upper-body. Corrine’s heart raced causing her chest to rise and fall with panicked breaths. She couldn’t really feel the metal panels, she could see the crowd lean in to try and see where her body met metal inside the box but none had a clear view. Corrine remembered what the magician’s assistant had done earlier in the show, it was a repetition but the crowd was loving every moment. The magician’s assistant had seemed thrilled to be cut in half whereas Corrine’s panic added to the trick’s authenticity.
“Okay! Good trick! But let me out now! Put me back together first then let me out of this box!..... Please!.....” She begged.
“Try and give your soles a tickle first, for the audience! Then we will put you back together again!” The Magician purred, his voice terrifying Corrine but delighting the audience.
Corrine reached out and ran her fingers over her nylon clad soles feeling her own fingertips and nails but not laughing until the glamourous assistant gave the backs of her knees a quick tickle.
“Well there you go folks! As you all know you cannot tickle yourself!” The Magician declared to a roar of laughter and approval.
True to their word the box was reassembled and the thin rectangular metal sheets removed. Once again though the Magician declared he would make Corrine disappear. With a flourish of a black cloak he seemed to produce from nowhere she was gone and the box was empty. The crowd looked around astonished to see Corrine sitting back in her seat.
“Give out lovely volunteer a round of applause! Wasn’t she was amazing!” The magician cried aloud.
The visage of Corrine waved, wiggling her fingers seductively. She would go back home to the confusing shouty woman who had moved in to pay Matt’s half of the rent. And she would write the best reviews of her life that saves the struggling paper’s life. Corrine however was terrified. One second she had been inside the box inside, the next she felt herself spinning again, only this was different she was spinning into darkness. When the terrible spinning stopped she was still inside the box only she wasn’t on stage anymore. The magician and his assistant looked down on her from inside what looked like a musky theatre store room with hundreds of small wooden boxes or drawers lining the walls above shelves bearing feathers and an assortment of other tickle tools amongst the details Corrine couldn’t take in.
“Where am I?” Corrine asked groggily.
“Our hammer space!” Came the replied from the magician his voice a sadistic raspy whisper without the pomp and showmanship of before.
“What?! Let me go! People will miss me!... I have a housemate!” Corrine spat; angry that she had been kidnapped and confused as to how.
The magician just laughed and clicked a button causing an old cinema projector to whir into life. There was the faint tinkle of the piano music the typically accompanied old silent films. Corrine’s eyes widened as it shone black and white film onto a faded white screen. There she was waving in her seat as the magician and his wife took a bow. The screen turned black with white words in old fashioned writing like the silent cinema had used decades before:
“Didn’t she do well?! Our lovely volunteer Corrine!”
Next Corrine saw a vision of herself at home with her laptop. The black screen came up again only this time the words read;
“Thank you so much for the review!”
As the film projector stopped Corrine and the old fashioned piano music faded away Corrine panicked.
“What are you going to do to me!” Corrine wailed.
“Tickle you! Torture you! Copy you!” The magician hissed with a malevolent leer.
“No don’t tickle me!.... What do you mean copy me!” Corrine pleaded.
“We shall merge your true physical form with that of the copy we made after we have had our fun with you on stage! As well as the copy-box we used to bring your true physical form here we have others that we shall use to create duplicates of certain body parts we find appealing, these shall take longer to produce as they will have a permanent neurological and psycho- spiritual link to your mind, body and soul!”
As the Magician spoke Corrine saw him as he truly was, the vision of the twisted old man was shorn from the glamour of the handsome showman he wore like a mask when presenting amongst humanity. His assistant was different too she maintained the young appearance but her eyes were totally black, inky black wells into nothingness surrounded by a few crow’s feet under white stage make-up.
“Copy box…. Duplicates…. Soul-bond? No please! Just let me go!” Corrine wailed, breaking down and blubbering: “This isn’t happening!.... This isn’t happening!” Over and over.
“Well you are half right! This is happening! Just not in your reality, but since you are a guest in our reality everything we do will feel…. Real!”
As the magician spoke he dug in using his terrible claw like fingertips that had grown through his white gloves to tickle Corrine’s nylon clad soles.
“Aaahh! No! Haha! Haha! Please No! Haha! Haha! NOOOO!” Corrine wailed as his expert fingers followed her flailing feet.
The Magician’s wife giggled as she explored the backs of her knees through the open side panels of the box. Corrine desperately tried to evade her uncannily precise ticklish touches that softly tormented her. It was like the woman had two elbows and four wrists! Corrine couldn’t twist to see how she was doing it, but the soft touch of the glamorous woman’s fingertips traced gently over her thighs as well as caressing the backs of her knees. Suddenly Corrine realised her nylons were gone. Her captors cackled knowing that this caused the precise change in tone of panic.
“We can do whatever we like to you here my dear!” The Magician hissed in his terrible voice.
And just like that Corrine felt her toes tied back tightly like her hellish ordeal at the swimming pool*, she tried to struggle but there were strong cords binding each toe and splaying them out.
“Oh my God! Please just let me go! I don’t deserve this!” She wailed as she was given a brief respite.
“You don’t deserve this for your voodoo?” The magician asked, feigning intrigue.
“Wha?... Voodoo?.... I have never!…..” Corrine stumbled.
“Voodoo! You cause harm to others far away with a sharp implement!” The magician explained as he began to trace Corrine’s pen over her soles leaving a swirling pattern of black ink at first punctuated by several swift stroke as his hissed the words: ‘sharp implement!’
Corrine screamed before dissolving into sweet melodic laughter. She just knew it was her pen the magician was using, the one she used to take notes. She struggled hopelessly and tried to look for a way to escape. Desperately she looked from side to side her vision mostly restricted by the box. Suddenly she realised there were two glamourous assistants standing to either side of the box each accessing her ticklish body through both little hatches. Corrine screamed in protest as she felt hands exploring her upper body and her legs.
“You said you thought the trick involved twins!” The two sequined women purred in unison.
The glamourous blondes continued to giggle. Corrine couldn’t believe her eyes; suddenly they seemed to shift and split like cells during mitosis. Now there were four women; each equal and identical, each reaching both hands through the little rectangular hatches to tickle Corrine. Corrine felt their hands explore her entire body in an impossibly precise ticklish assault. The box shook as she screamed and thrashed, there were hands tickling her everywhere from her neck to the backs of her ticklish knees in an unpredictable and perfect pattern. The four women did not clash or bump into one another but moved as a single entity, which in truth they were.
At Corrine’s soles the magician had traced ink all over her soles to create a living scribble monster that swirled and swivelled tickling Corrine as it did so. The living doodle was composed of the memory of each ticklish touch of the pen which echoed, reverberated and shifted inflicting themselves on her suffering soles over and over again as they darted back and forth in time. Corrine couldn’t see what was happening but felt the tickling sensations on her sensitive size nine feet, it was like her soles were being tickled by a thousand pens at once.
“No!!!!...No Please!... I don’t deserve this! I don’t deserve this!!!!... No!!! Oh my God!!!... I don’t deserve this for writing bad reviews!.... Stop please!.... I don’t deserve this!!!!....” Corrine wailed.
“You don’t deserve this but you are going to suffer it anyway! You are out helpless tickle toy and powerless to stop us!” The magician cackled.
He had begun to use two feathers to tickle Corrine’s toes that were un-tormented by the scribble monster apart from two small squiggles of ink that danced on the pads of each of her big toes. He traced the plumes under her toe-stems in a swishing motion occasionally using the quill side to add to the prickly sensations of the scribble monsters he had created. All of Corrine’s captors laughed as she was pushed beyond her limits of endurance. Suddenly she broke and with the last of her energy she shouted;
“NOOOOO! STOOOOOP!!! PLEEEEAASE! I WI-HIL-ILL DO AAANYTHIIING YOU WAAA-HAHA-ANT!!!!! PLEASE STOP!!!”
“Stop?” The magician asked quizzically, adding: “But we haven’t even started yet! We are just having a little fun before-hand…”
As she spoke the magician wiped away the scribble-monsters from Corrine’s feet. Through tear-blurred eyes Corrine saw that there was only one glamorous assistant again. Pathetically she blubbered;
“What are you going to do to me? No please seriously I hate being trapped like this just let me go!...”
“What are we going to do? We have already told you! Perhaps a demonstration is in order!” The magician concluded, rapping his cane on the floor.
As if in answer to the rat-a-tat-tat of his silver tipped cane all of the strange oblong boxes opened. They were lined up and stacked on shelves all along the walls. Slowly the front of each box opened on a hinge and bracket such that the front descended like the drawbridge of a castle. What Corrine saw shocked her to the core. Inside each box she could see a female foot; some squirming, some sleeping, some desperately trying to keep still.
“Oh my God are you going to cut of my feet!” Corrine screamed in terror.
“Not exactly, you remember how we duplicated you. Well this is our…. Collection! A little souvenir from each volunteer! A little something to remember each joyous encounter, and something to ensure you will never forget your time with us!”
“This can’t be real!... This can’t be happening!” Corrine wailed as she watched the soles flex and writhe in their little boxes.
The boxes were arranged in pairs. The ones Corrine could see well had little old fashioned dials that contained the words ‘Awake’ or ‘Asleep in red and green letters respectively against an arc of white. The ones that were ‘Awake’ remained motionless whilst the so-called sleeping ones squirmed and wriggled. Feathers, brushes and pointers extended from the open front of the boxes to stroke at the heels and arches of each ‘sleeping foot’. Corrine could see that each pair of ‘Awake’ feet within her field of vision were trapped in a box that contained the same dormant equipment upon the inside of the front panel that had opened. As Corrine looked closer she saw that some of the feet were toe-tied and others had evil little brushes exploring their toes and insteps from the sides and back of the boxes. This was truly nightmarish and Corrine thrashed willing herself to wake up.
Her captors just laughed and approached with two of the little boxes that were presently vacant. So far the boxes were made of two parts. The first contained only the top and sides of the box which slid into place over little catches to either side of Corrine’s stocked feet. With these in place Corrine’s soles were still exposed as were the underneath of her heels. Cruelly her captors gave her a closer inspection of the second parts which contained the same tickle tools that she had witnessed torment the multitude of feet lining the walls. The cruel devices extended and wiggled in front of her eyes like the legs of a beetle upturned onto its back. Corrine could just tell that they would tickle worse with the box closed. An impossible array of wide and narrow paintbrushes, feathers and even forks greeted her eyes each swirled and clawed menacingly at their creator’s command. Corrine was aware that such an arrangement was mechanically possible but nothing about this place seemed to make sense.
With another rat-a-tat-tat of the magician’s cane the ‘sleeping’ feet were returned to their slumber of torment whereas the near motionless soles whose owners were presently awake remained on display, twitching slightly every now and then. The magician’s assistant made her way around to a few of the soles Corrine had spotted merely pretending to be asleep, their dials betrayed them as did the tickling tools still teasing their heels, ankles and toes. Cruelly the sequin clad djinn tickled each set of soles with her long glamourous fingernails. It was like a dance from a music video; she would turn and tickle as she walked along the row of soles, still remaining at the previous set as another copy of her swirled and swooped upon her next prey. Looking down the stocks Corrine saw another copy of Magician’s assistant standing there with the front and base of one of the terrible foot-prisons.
“What?! No!! How?!!!” Corrine whined.
“I can extend the female part of my psyche into multiple forms, she is part of me and not me! Your kind will never be able to understand!” The magician explained as if irritated by his victim’s confusion.
It had been a long time since the pair had been cast from the heavens like a bubble of consciousness with smaller bubbles forming all around. They had taken many forms on this rock throughout the ages but had settled on this visage over a century ago after spending almost as long travelling with a circus.
The base and front of the boxes were fixed in place completing the confinement of Corrine’s soles against the stocks. Corrine screamed as the tickling devices set to work against her toe-tied soles exploring every inch of her arches, heels and toes. It was worse than the scribble monster that had left her feet feeling ultra-sensitive. It was strange, earlier when the magician wiped it away with his handkerchief the soft silk felt exactly like a thousand scrubbing brushes. So far Corrine’s soles were only being tickled from one direction and as she laughed and struggled she watched some of her captors’ souvenirs suffer the same treatment from all sides.
Corrine tried not to think about how her soles might be separated from her body to take their place in this terrible collection but could see guillotine-like devices amongst the equipment scattered around the room as well as smaller versions of the thin rectangular metal sheets that had been used to split her in two on stage. As she laughed and begged her captors secured two small jars over each of her flailing hands.
Corrine looked from side to side as she watched the dark glass tubes slot into place over the same kind of catches she presumed were holding the boxes over and around her feet. It was strange, she hadn’t noticed these catches before now. It was like when her nylons were whisked away, one moment they were there the next gone. She had noticed the same phenomenon with her ticklers and the tools they used, things could exist from nowhere and disappear just as easily.
Corrine flexed her fingers inside the dark glass jars, spotting the same kind of jar hanging in rows upside down under the shelf of feet. She had no idea what her captors were trying to do but dreaded finding out. For now though they closed up the four hatches on the sides of the large box. Next they opened up the top of the box, extending the two halves of its on hinges until they stood proudly up such that they ran parallel with the sides of the terrible torture box. Corrine heard and saw metal clips being extended, elegant brass supports were extended and met in the middle above her, keeping the two halves of the lid in place at the head, foot and middle of the box. Corrine didn’t understand what they were doing any of this for and didn’t care she just wanted the terrible automatic foot tickling to stop. No machine could tickle her this badly as the brushes, feathers, pointers and other devices were random and unpredictable unlike any tickle tool animated by springs, motors or any form of man-made contraption. Worst of all the little tickle toys knew where to tickle and targeted her worst spots.
Corrine was laughing and begging as the captors carried over the jars suspended from two planks of wood. Each plank was placed on the arrangement of brass devices so that the jars hung ominously above her. Looking down Corrine could see that the jars were like the ones that had been placed over her own hands, they were of dark glass with metallic screw caps like a mason jar. Corrine hadn’t noticed this detail on the jars that held her own hands, there was a lid past her fingers and her wrist entered through the base of each jar. Suddenly she spotted something moving inside one of the jars and panicked as she recognised the unmistakable wiggling of fingers through the dark brown glass.
“Oh my God Nooooo!!!!!!!” Corrine screamed as each of the jars started slowly unscrewing their lids.
Never could Corrine have dreamed of such a terrible sight. The tickling devices slowed to let her savour the moment that each jar opened its lid swinging to a stop on its wire catch and one by one terrible tickling hands dropped towards writhing body. Cackling madly the magician clicked his fingers and Corrine’s top and skirt were gone leaving her in her lacy black bra and panties. The shock of her sudden exposure drove Corrine to a hysterical thrashing madness that no amount of tickling could produce. One second the first hand was dropping from a jar just within her reach, the next it landed on her bare stomach that had been clothed moments before. One by one more hands dropped, had Corrine retained a hint of sanity they would have reminded her of ‘Thing’ from the Adams Family but instead they just drove her into a frantic thrashing lunacy as each hand dropped to begin caressing and tickling every inch of bare flesh.
Still laughing evilly her captors picked up the planks of wood and turned them over to reveal fresh unopened jars that slowly began to unscrew. The Magician’s assistant had triplicated herself to make this trick possible, Corrine didn’t even challenge this affront to the laws of physics, she just screamed a primal howl of rage as more and more hands were added to the sea that roamed over her sensitive flesh.
The foot tickling devices picked up the pace tormenting Corrine’s captive soles inside their wooden prisons. As much as Corrine was foot- sensitive that hands crawling over her exposed flesh were worse. As the box was closed up Corrine glimpsed a look at one of them; where the wrist ended there was a brass plate with five or six round steel rivets around its sides. Corrine screamed with horror and in laughter. The hands were exploring every inch of her; the backs of her knees and thighs being a favourite, alongside her tummy and underarms. Several had started playing with the catch of her bra and started sneaking in to squeeze her breasts. The hands were not as skilled as those of the magician and his assistant but somehow that made it worse as did the way they fought over her.
Corrine didn’t know how long this torture lasted. The magician and his assistant tickled the boxed feet lining the walls, taking their pick of those that had been awoken by their owner’s falling asleep. Corrine could have surmised that she suffered this way for over a day as each of the soles awoke and slept whilst their owners did the opposite in their various time zones. The hands were a true nightmare, at some point during her ordeal the magician decided she no longer dissevered her bra and panties and with a click of his fingers they were gone.
Some of the disembodied hands had already taken to twisting and squeezing Corrine’s nipples. Red in the face she flew into a rage calling the magician and his wife every name under the sun. The just laughed and produced a clear jar for her to see, inside was a hand missing its ring finger. Unlike the other hands this one looked to be male. One of the side panels was opened and the hand was added to the milieu of ticklish touches. Corrine could feel it making its way up her knee and suspected she knew where it was going. Sure enough the three fingered hand crawled over her crotch, teasing her clit as she laughed and thrashed until Corrine was wet enough for it to climb inside.
The torture seemed to last forever, Corrine was sure she should have passed out or something. She didn’t know it but she would never pass out or get desensitised to the ticklish touches. Corrine’s arousal was making everything worse, she seemed to grow more ticklish and desperate with each masterful touch of the three-fingered hand. Eventually Corrine was broken, she had not only been tickled for what seemed like an eternity but the caressing, fondling three fingered hand had pushed her far past the level of stimulation she needed to climax but somehow she couldn’t. Humiliated she cried out;
“PLEASE STOP!!! I WILL DO ANYHTING!!!! STOP WITH THE TICKLING AND LET ME CUM!!!! I WILL SUCK YOUR COCK!!!! I WILL EAT OUT THIS SLUT’S PUSSY!!!!”
Corrine kept screaming until a ball-gag appeared with a click of the magician fingers her torture would continue; there was nothing she could do to stop it, nothing she could offer them that was better than the sweet pleasure her desperation gave them.
Eventually her captors decided it was time for the next phase and with a click of his fingers the hands were gone from inside the box as was the ball-gag. Menacingly two versions of the blonde assistant approached with the smaller rectangular sheets.
“No please don’t! Don’t take my hands for your collection!” Corrine wailed. She hated the idea of the magician keeping any part of her.
The magician just laughed as he prepared a blindfold for Corrine. The tickling devices had stopped to allow her to feel only fear.
“On three now ladies! One…. Two…. Three!”
Corrine winced as she heard the scrape and swish of metal. She felt no pain, no coldness. She flexed her hands feeling the warm air inside the far still. She felt the jars be removed but still her hands somehow felt the clammy moist air inside as well as the rush of fresh, sweet cool air. As she whimpered Corrine heard a few rustling sound and a knock and thump. Her blindfold was removed and she looked desperately from side to side to see her hands restrained but still attached. On top of the terrible box were the two jars. Grinning the magician and his now singular assistant lifted both jars to reveal a matching set of hands mounted on the same brass and steel caps Corrine had glimpsed earlier.
“No! You can’t have my hands!” Corrine wailed, desperately struggling to escape watching in horror as the second set of hands flexed in exactly the same way as her own.
“Oh we don’t want them like this!” The magician hissed, adding: “they are not nearly evil enough!”
Both the magician and his assistant breathed slowly on one of Corrine’s disembodied hands and Corrine watched in horror as a dark shadow emanated from within each of them and seemed to be soaked up by the right hand that began to tremble and move of its own accord. Corrine could still feel the sensations from all four of her hands but as her newly corrupted left hand curled and flexed beyond her control she couldn’t predict where the fingers would touch the palm or one another.
“No I don’t like it!.... I don’t like it!... I don’t want you keeping a copy of any part of me!...” Corrine wailed breaking down into tears.
“Well then!... Let us make a game if you can tickle with the hand you control as well as the one we have influenced then we shall remove our presence and let you return to your plane of existence. Should you fail, then the torture will go on and we shall keep copies of both hands and feet!”
Corrine tried to protest but her captors gleefully discussed whose soles she be brought forth for this test. Eventually they decided upon a favourite and two of the terrible little boxes were brought down from a shelf and placed on top of the box for Corrine to see. The closed boxes revealed two yellowed paper labels by the dials at the top, each read;
Mademoiselle D’Guilliame. Paris 1926
In swirly fancy handwriting with the words: (Left) and (Right) the only distinction between the two boxes. Before the boxes opened Corrine caught a glance of both dials. Instead of reading ‘Awake’ or ‘Asleep’ they simply read ‘Ours now!’
The boxes slowly opened to reveal two stocking clad feet with high arches and pale soft skin under sheer silk. Corrine knew with a sinking feeling that these were not the feet of a Centenarian French woman but those of a sensitive young woman in her early twenties or even late teens. ‘And the words on the dial’ Corrine’s mind raced; ‘even if I die they can still tickle me!...’
Her disembodied hands were picked up and placed onto special trays that the front of each box produced from their impossible array of mechanical contraptions. Corrine tried to focus on wiggling the fingers of the hand she controlled trying to gauge the distance from her hands to the expectantly squirming sole. It was so difficult and so weird but at least she wasn’t the one being tortured right now.
“And begin!” The Magician declared.
Immediately Corrine’s left hand came to life in a tickling frenzy that made the stocking-clad foot dance and squirm. Corrine could actually feel the sheer fabric and soft soles through both hands and tried hard to match the efforts of her possessed left hand with her right but it was impossible. As the foot writhed around it knocked Corrine’s right hand whilst her left hand always seemed able to predict how to move. Despite being right-handed Corrine struggled even to work out how she should move her hand and protested as her captors laughed.
“Well try them bare and toe-tied then!” The magician declared clicking his fingers.
The poor soles of Mademoiselle D’Guilliame, nearly a hundred years in the possession of these cruel spirits were now presented without their stockings tied with the same cruel cords Corrine could still feel between her toes splaying them out. Corrine was shocked and gasped in horror at this display of perverse control.
“Or toe-tied in Nylons!” The magician declared clicking his fingers again causing the nylons to return only with cords holding just the big and pinky-toes of their wearer.
“Or barefoot without!” The magician announced enjoying this display of power. The pale pink soles now curled and wiggled in anticipation, convincing Corrine their owner had been at most nineteen.
“No I think barefoot and toe-tied is best” He concluded with final click of his fingers the soft pink soles were tightly restrained with the flawless arches stretched taut without a single blemish, callous or wrinkle: a perfect canvas for torture that had been exploited for nearly a century and would continue to suffer for eternity.
Corrine knew this game was fixed and her captors had only devised it for their own entertain themselves but she tried to tickle the soft bare sole, desperate to escape the same fate herself. Try as she might she could not match the experience and cruelty her captors had breathed into her left hand. Despite loving the look of desperate concentration on their new victim’s face the duo eventually grew eager for new games and tricks. Corrine could still feel the soft skin under the fingertips of both hands as evil was breathed into her right hand making it dance beyond her control in the same way as the left.
Her captors laughed and picked up the boxes placing them back on the shelf where Corrine could see them amongst the others. A few devices activated around Mademoiselle D’Guilliame’s toes and heels. Corrine felt and heard the whir of electric toothbrushes and watched horrified as eight or more explored the perfect tied toes.
“She was not a happy woman when your kind invented those!” The magician quipped. His assistant laughed shooting him a look of true love and appreciation.
Corrine could feel the vibrations and involuntary twitches of the poor woman through her struggling soles that her freshly corrupted hands continued to tickle beyond her command. Sobbing with horror and in terror of the consequences of her defeat Corrine willed herself once more to wake up. She shut her eyes tightly and only opened them when she heard the terrible noise of the slightly larger slim metal plates that heralded the taking of her feet.
“No Please!... Don’t take me feet and tickle them forever like you did to her!... Please I will do anything!...Please just do-oh-ohhnnn’t!” Corrine wailed breaking down into floods of tears.
Corrine pleaded for mercy as the plates were positioned between the stocks and boxes, but there was no mercy here. With a swift movement the desperate brunette saw and heard the plates descend. She felt nothing where the slim blades should have cut her feet off but watched helplessly as the boxes were carried around to see. The thin metal sheets remained in their places at the stocks whilst somehow wooden backs had been added to the evil little boxes, Corrine was too panicked to see how. All she saw was the boxes slowly open revealing her own soles frantically wiggling and flexing, Corrine curled her toes too terrified to wonder what had become of the toe-ties.
“No!!! Please! Give them back! Put them back on my legs!” Corrine wailed, dreading her soles being put on the shelf with the others.
“Let’s play another game!” The magician offered approaching with two more of the evil little boxes.
“No just let me go! Give me my feet and get me out of this box! Out of this space!” Corrine pleaded.
“This game is called: ‘Find your feet!’… The magician continued ignoring Corrine’s protests.
The boxes containing Corrine’s feet were closed up so they matched the two new ones. The magician began to shuffle them, picking them up and putting them back down in a pastiche of a classic card trick. Corrine had been too frantic to pay attention to begin with and was quickly bamboozled by the magician’s uncanny sleight of hand, his hands were a blur and Corrine’s head began to spin.
“Now simply pick your boxes! Roll up! Roll up! Find your feet! Roll up! Roll up!” He cried as he finished shuffling the boxes, enjoying the return to his circus master days.
Corrine was too distraught to speak, she looked desperately at all four boxes which looked to be identical to one another. Each had the little dials at the top which showed a blank arc of white with no words. Corrine tried to wiggle her feet enough to make the boxes wobble but all four stood proudly to attention.
“If you cannot decide my dear I shall pick first, remember if you find your feet you keep them. Should I pick a box containing a ticklish foot it will be going on the shelf.” The magician chivvied Corrine.
Okay the two on the outside!” Corrine desperately cried, knowing the magician would know which two boxes contained her feet and not wanting him to pick first.
Corrine gasped as both boxes opened themselves to reveal her soft size nines that greeted the air in a dance of wiggling toes. Corrine felt elated then began to worry. Something was very, very wrong but she couldn’t place precisely what. She watched her feet move and flexed the toes of each foot in turn. Both feet on display curled their toes in unison.
“Has she realised yet?” The magician’s assistant asked gleefully.
“Not quite yet, but she knows that something is wrong…”
Suddenly Corrine screamed as she realised what was wrong. Both boxes contained her left foot! Two identical soft ticklish size nines frantically struggled in front of Corrine’s eyes in near unison, yet another impossibility. Cackling the magician opened the other two boxes revealing two identical copies of Corrine’s right foot.
“You were always such a great dancer my dear, shame now you will literally have two left feet!” The Magician quipped.
His assistant laughed again, she always laughed at his jokes. Even though she had heard them a hundred times, they were all part of their cruel fun.
“No please!” Corrine begged picturing herself limping and hobbling with two left feet.
“Of course I will happily trade one of your boxes for one of mine should you wish!” The magician offered.
“Yes please!... Wait, just give me my feet back and let me go! Don’t!... I don’t want to be here!” Corrine wailed.
Two of the boxes were selected and carried over to the shelf next to those of Mademoiselle D’Guilliame which were still being tickled by Corrine’s possessed hands. Corrine could still feel the poor thing’s soles under her fingertips despite also being able to clearly see and feel her hands to either side of her head. As she struggled in the box the magician brought two of the dark jars for her to see, blowing the dust from them and presenting the label for Corrine to see. The faded cardboard tag read:
Mademoiselle D’Guilliame Paris 1926
“I think she deserves some revenge don’t you?!” The magician asked as he unscrewed the jars.
Mademoiselle Guillame’s hands were held up for Corrine to see. They were deft and small with short sharp nails. There was an engagement ring featuring a diamond flanked by two pearls. The fingernails had grown naturally into French tips whilst the pads showed that these hands had never done a day’s work in their owner’s life. It was clear that like Corrine’s hands these had been corrupted with her captor’s evil desires. They were already grasping and trying to get at some soft flesh to tickle. Occasionally Mademoiselle Guillame’s hands twisted trying to get at the assistant’s sequin clad sides but for the most part they directed their attention towards Corrine’s helpless boxed feet which had been returned to the toe-ties.
Corrine knew it was inevitable but struggled none-the-less. The disembodied hands were attached to the same tray-like appendages the Corrine’s corrupted and copied hands were held by. Having a close look, Corrine noticed that there was a little brass ball on the end of each terminal cap that clicked into the terrible clips and clasps enabling the hands to be held securely. Corrine panted frantically as the hands slowly inched closer to the soles of her feet, it seemed as though they were impatient.
The second the sharp nails touched her soles Corrine broke into wails of laughter. Worst of all the tickle-tools in the other boxes had launched a sneak attack, double-teaming her ticklish feet. Corrine laughed as she felt two sets of sensations on each foot; one she could see, and the other she could not. She wasn’t pure which was worse; Mademoiselle Guillame’s sharp deft nails and fingertips that she could watched dance over her soles, or the terrible unseen toothbrushes, feathers, pointers, quills and hairbrushes that tickled every inch of her soles that suffered on the shelf next to those of her new tormentor.
Corrine begged and wailed, broken by the tickle torture and surreal horror of her predicament. There was no need for her captors to give her a break, they could tickle her like this forever and she would still be as receptive for more torture. Still they wanted to toy with her and as she endured her terrible tickle contest they brought a new item for her see. It was strange, a long pole held a large crystal ball at about head height. Corrine could barely focus on the new object but guessed it stood on ornamental wooden legs like those of a free-standing coat-stand. Finally her tickle contest with the dearly departed Mademoiselle Guillame was brought to a close.
Corrine still felt her fingertips torment the soft bare soles, harvested almost a century before. But her competitor’s hands were cruelly pulled away by the devices that bore them so they could no longer reach her own freshly captured soles. Corrine frantically looked around, hyperventilating with panic as she dreaded what would come next. The tools tickling her boxed soles had stopped and through tear blurred eyes she now struggled to pick them out from the others on the shelf.
“Oh they’re ours now Poppet!” The magician hissed.
“No!...” Corrine pathetically mewled as his rancid breath offended her nose and eyes.
“Next we would like to show you an artefact that belonged to my predecessor at the Great Minsk Circus!” The magician declared as he gestured to the strange looking crystal orb.
As his assistant posed with the precise turn and smile used by glamourous assistants the world over the magician explained the new device. His human predecessor at the circus had used the crystal or in conjunction with mirrors to project the image of a living woman’s head inside the orb to be beheld by the fascinated, bamboozled and horrified patrons of the circus. Corrine enjoyed the respite but wondered how such an object could be used to torment her.
“But perhaps since you seem disinterested, I may direct your attention to the Guillotine!” The magician declared.
“Nooooo!....” Corrine screamed as she suddenly looked up to see the ominous diagonal blade held above her neck by new wooden supports that had not existed the second before.
“NOOO! DON’T CUT MY HEAD OFF!!!” Corrine wailed.
Suddenly a face appeared inside the crystal orb, Corrine only glimpsed it for a second but distinctly heard a voice cry out;
“Non!!! Ne me coupez pas la tête!!! Ne me décapite pas!!!!”
The new voice cried out the vision of a frantic young blonde woman swirled in the crystal ball.
“What was that!... Oooh! Why are you doing this to me!!!” Corrine wailed.
“That was just a memory, would you like to meet the harvested consciousness?” The magician asked.
Before she could answer Corrine saw the face return to the crystal ball, blinking with azure blue eyes from a face as white as cream. The angelic face was calm and appreciative. Suddenly Corrine realised she could no longer feel the soft supple skin of taut arches on her fingertips. Desperately glancing to the shelf Corrine saw that her hands hand stopped tickling and instead twisted around to wave at her. The angelic face was whispering something in French but Corrine couldn’t make out the words from her own sobbing hysteria.
“Ah somebody wants a rematch!” The magician declared as his assistant brought Mademoiselle Guillame’s soles to sit next to Corrine’s on top of the long box. The boxes were arranged so the Mademoiselle Guillame’s sat in the middle with Corrine’s flanking them. Corrine couldn’t make sense of what she saw as it seemed as though all four boxes faced towards her and away from her at the same time.
“A little Non-Euclidean Geometry for you, and in case you hadn’t noticed your hands are your own, as are your opponents….For now!” The magician explained as his assistant began the countdown.
The terms of the tickling contest were not stated by Corrine dreaded losing. Desperately Corrine tried to use her fingers to tickle the soles in front of her. She watched as the angelic face broke into delightful laughter inside the crystal ball, she spotted that the young woman wore some kind of headgear sporting a feather and felt strangely elated making the blonde laugh. Any joy turned to fear as she realised that the poor thing hadn’t been driven to insanity, her only respite from constantly torture being participation in games like this.
As hard Corrine tried however the hands tickling her own feet made it impossible for her to concentrate. Their sharp nails managed to follow her feet perfectly keeping to her arches perfectly making Corrine fumble and lose the technique with which she had achieved early success. With Corrine on the ropes her opponent’s hands varied their technique hitting her toes before sliding back down in a delicate swoop to hit that all of Corrine’s ticklish spots pushing her into a hysterical thrashing laughter that dissolved any focus to maintain her assault.
“We have a winner!” The magician declared, adding; “Which soles would you like as your trophy?”
The angelic face looked to the shelf and sweetly murmured in French as she gazed upon Corrine’s second set of soles. Her hands were taken to the boxes on the shelf by the magician boasted;
“You see this is how you do it!”
As he spoke Corrine’s hands were removed from her control and began to dance over Mademoiselle Guillame’s soles with a grace and poise Corrine could never match. The face inside the crystal ball broke into hysterical laughter unrivalled by that produced by Corrine’s efforts. As the boxes containing Mademoiselle Guillame’s soles and Corrine’s possessed hands were carried away the face slowly faded, the laughter growing ever stronger and more desperate somehow as it disappeared.
“And now the guillotine!” The magician declared cruelly.
“No not that!” Corrine wailed as the dangling diagonal blade of Damocles returned above her head.
“Take it away!... Take it away again!” Corrine pleaded wishing the terrible device of doom would disappear again as it had during her tickle-contest.
“Perhaps the blindfold!” The magician’s assistant purred approaching Corrine from behind and tying a soft silk scarf over Corrine’s eyes.
“Yes with the blindfolded you will not see the blade fall, only hear it’s swoosh and feel your head roll in the black silk sack” The magician whispered, loving the fear he induced.
Corrine trembled and curled her toes, this expression of fear delighting her captors who removed the toe-ties from existence in order to enjoy it. The words ‘Swoosh’ and ‘Sack’ filled Corrine’s mind with terror. Desperately she listened out for the falling blade her fear giving power to the auditory illusion with which she was tormented. Suddenly she heard it and felt the rushing air. Where should have come pain came the word: ‘sack’ in her mind. Corrine screamed as she felt her head roll around inside a soft black silk bag. There was no blood, no pain only disconnection and a terrifying loss of control as her head rolled and pitched her long brown hair tangling and teasing her face.
“No!... Whatever you are doing stop!.... Put my head back on! OH MY GOD THIS CAN’T BE REAL!!!!!” Corrine screamed.
Suddenly the black fabric was pulled away and Corrine looked around in fear. The view around her seemed to glimmer and was distorted. She could see the magician’s long box sporting the two boxes that bore her feet. The shelf of soles was blurred in the background and parts of it blended and split as she desperately struggled. Suddenly she realised where she was! She was inside the crystal ball like Mademoiselle Guillame had been. Corrine screamed as her captors laughed mockingly. She could see her own hands tickling Mademoiselle Guillame’s soles and began laughing hysterical as the sensations on her own resumed.
Her mocking tormentors joined in tickling the pair of feet that were trapped in the boxes now facing her. Slowly they carried the boxes to the foot of the long box. As Corrine laughed the devices inside the box reactivated keeping her just hysterical enough to realise what her captors were doing wrong. They were going to attach each of her feet to the wrong legs.
“No not like that! Don’t put them back on the wrong way!” She pleaded.
Grinning evilly her captor’s swapped places and slotted the boxes back in place. The thin metal sheets were removed with a flourish and the duo ceased all tickling for Corrine to admire their handiwork. Corrine screamed in rage as she realised they had somehow swapped her feet over anyway.
“No I said not to do that!” She screamed in rage and frustration.
Clicking his fingers with a cackle the magician swapped them back to suffer the many devices.
“JUST LET ME OUT OF HERE AND STOP TORTURING ME!!!!” Corrine wailed.
With another click of his fingers the magician returned Corrine’s to the box. Still laughing she looked from side to side to see her boxed feet suffering on the ends of her wrists. It didn’t matter that it was impossible she just laughed and begged silent pleas and protests, her hands grasping at air from the ends of her shins. With another click of his fingers the magician returned her feet and hands to their rightful places.
Corrine was broken. She could no longer tell which part of her was where only laugh and scream. Any illusion of time broke down as her captors cruelly tickled her for an eternity. Although Corrine’s torture in their hammer-space never ceased her consciousness was returned to her duplicate body which suffered the most severe nightmares for the rest of Corrine’s life.
Often she was in the box other times her feet were just being tickled by unknown hands and devices. In some dreams her captors had her in several stacked boxes to separate one body part at a time to be played with and tickled. Often the box containing her head would be turned to face the others arranged in a hellish composure of ticklish torment. Sometimes she would watch from inside the crystal ball as the magician and his assistant tickle tortured other women. In her dreams she always knew when she was tickling or watching Mademoiselle Guillame get tickled. She watched the unbearable torture of beautiful women from all over the world, being harvested from the past, present and possibly the future.
But she only knew Mademoiselle Guillame by name and those dreams were always more vivid and lasted longer after waking. She watched as the poor Mademoiselle was slowly stripped and forced to suffer the box full of disembodied hands as she had been, the petite Mademoiselle had a cute pale body with small pert breasts and Corrine awoke from a wet dream after that episode.
Aside from her nightmares there were a few days after the theatre that Corrine simply couldn’t explain. Somehow she had written the best reviews and earned a promotion despite never remembering typing or putting pen to paper. A rising star of journalism had been noticed and Corrine’s career would come on in leaps and bounds. Each night however she would be forced to watch or endure the most vivid intense scenes of tickle torture for the rest of her life until one day decades later she would be denied the respite of awaking to a mediocre world and the little dials above her perfectly preserved size nine feet turned from:
‘Awake’ to Ours Now’!
And Corrine’s ticklish soles would be tormented without respite or escape, forever!
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