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Here is the link to parts 1 & 2
Gill awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep. She was surrounded by the kind of deep darkness that only exhaustion induced unconsciousness provides. Gill had been stripped and tickle tortured on the beach of a tropical island she had discovered after months of sailing and years of obsessive study. After capturing her and inflicting a humiliating torture session, her tiny captors had made her into a sadistic carnival attraction and tortured her hypersensitive body with both tickling and orgasm denial. Their celebration had ended with the most intense, earth shattering orgasm Gill had experienced.
As Gill's senses slowly returned to her she felt that she was still restrained on her back, but there was no sand and her bonds had been changed. She was supported from her head to her ass by some sort of table. Straps held her arms, legs and head to the table and mechanical arms.
As her eyes flickered open shapes began to take form, her phone swirled into focus. Gill took no comfort from the sight of this familiar object. Her heightened senses told her she wasn't in her boat; the smell was wrong, the air was wrong and she couldn't move. Unlike her torment on the beach now her arms and legs were pulled back behind her at an obtuse angle, causing a gentle strain on her hips and making her thrust her chest out.
Gill briefly took in her surroundings, she seemed to be in some sort of laboratory or hangar. She couldn't hear any of the evil little imps chittering but as she moved her eyes from side to side she suddenly noticed two words on the screen of her phone.
Gill shivered. 'Did they know she was awake or had the message been there before...' as she pondered the words changed.
Gill's heart skipped a beat. She saw that they had suspended her phone above her and the USB cable was plugged into what she guessed was their computer. The words changed again, Gill's eyes widened as each new message flashed up on her phone's screen.
Gill watched in pure terror as the white text slowly changed to announce what her cruel captors had planned for her. The text changed again to read.
WE ARE GOING TO TICKLE YOU....
LIKE THIS....
Suddenly her phone came alive with a woman screaming with laughter interspersed with the words: "NON!... NON!..."
Gill watched in horror as the poor woman laughed and pleaded for the torture to stop in French. Gill recognised the woman, it took her a few minutes to realise where she knew her from. It was the ambassador's wife who disappeared in the late 20's. Unlike the black and white photos from the newspaper reports about her affair and disappearance the video was in colour and high-def.
'These little bastards are more advanced than us!' Gill realised.
Her captors let her wake up to a selection of the video of their former victims. As well as dread and horror Gill felt oddly disappointed that she had not been the first to discover this island. She watched as various women were tickled in a variety of bondage positions. Some knelt on terrible contraptions whilst others were strapped face up and face down to torture tables, one was even suspended from her ankles.
Gill guessed the little imps had been at it a while, there were women she guessed were from the Victorian and Edwardian eras as well as a few 17th Century wenches and even a dark skinned tattooed woman who wailed in a language totally unfamiliar to Gill: ‘Possibly one of the natives whose culture was lost when the Spanish cleared the Caribbean to the slave markets in Hispaniola…’ Gill thought to herself, ever dreading when it would be her turn to be tickle-tortured next.
From the videos of women being tickled she guessed she was restrained on the same equipment as the ambassador’s wife from the first video. She could feel the tight toe-ties that kept her arches taut and her tender digits splayed out. Her underarms and the backs of her knees were also stretched out making them both vulnerable and sensitive. Having her legs bent back at the hip also made her womanhood feel vulnerable, although Gill wasn’t too sure what the imps had done down there. Something else was incorporated into the bench and Gill could feel the now-familiar feel of a catheter as well as a new arrangement of devices around her womanhood and some contraption in her anus.
The video parade of ticklish women ended and Gill was treated instead to a close up view of her helpless body, one tickle-target at a time. Her tiny captors waved from their stations at her feet, underarms, thighs and pussy. Each had an array of tickle-tools to manually stimulate her along with the automatic tickling devices that were positioned between her toes and at every inaccessible ticklish spot.
Gill had witnessed these devices tickling the 20th century women and dreaded feeling them come to life. There were hundreds of tiny brushes, along with scrapers, pointers and tiny vibrating devices like hairbrushes. Gill whimpered in anticipation as her phone once more turned to black with white terrifying letters that read:
READY?
As a countdown began flickering down from a large white number 5 Gill finally lost her resolve not to give the imps the emotional response they wanted;
“No!.... Please don’t do this!... Why are you doing this?!’ WHY????!!!” She pleaded.
The white words appeared just as the tickling started. The little imps were professionals, unlike those at the fair, but due to their sadistic nature they couldn’t help gleefully digging in with a pitiless fervour before beginning their task of mapping and documenting their prize’s most ticklish spots. All of the teams except the ones at her pussy had the joy of torturing the hyper-sensitive giantess, eagerly the small team of sadists between her legs waited for the special prize they had in store for their victim.
The two teams at her feet had hit the jackpot, Gill screamed as they eagerly began using their many devices to torment her freshly sensitivised feet. While Gill was asleep they had treated her soft pale soles with lotions and oils and heated them to just the right temperature to increase the sensitivity of every nerve. Now Gill’s feet were at the peak of their sensitivity and being given a merciless tickling that was only made worse when the devices were switched on. Gill screamed with rage as the terrible devices came to life between her toes, exploring every spot more thoroughly that a hundred of the imps could.
Two more teams between her legs inflicted an infuriating soft torment of the sensitive spots behind her knees. These sensitive areas were checked manually with feathers and soft brushes before the automatic tickling devices sporting the same soft tips were calibrated and positioned in place. The two teams of three imps to a knee then ascended to join the team at Gill’s thighs who were applying special squeezing machines to inflict the deeper sensations their tiny hands could not.
More such machines were positioned at Gill’s hips, ribs and sides and slowly her torture was being perfected as the teams at her underarms and neck eased their gleeful first flurry of tickles to check which techniques worked best. The teams were instructed to stop so that one area at a time could be checked as Gill wailed and screamed between bouts of laughter. She threatened and tried to break the device but her bonds held firm as her captors perfected the art of torturing her.
Gill was the perfect tickle victim for the imps. The teams at her feet found she even responded well to a few experimental tickling devices such as the gloves which sported dozens of tiny vibrating tickle tools on the tips of each finger. Previous captives had shown no greater response to these that the imp’s fingers alone but Gill was a special case, being hypersensitive enough to feel the nearly microscopic brushes and scrapers that tips each of the gloves.
Each ticklish area was checked by both the team on site and from the control panels that controlled the tickling machines. The screen of Gill’s phone changed from a near-live stream (her captors showed it to her on five second delay to increase her torment) to more white words:
“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” Gill wailed, even one team by itself was enough to tickle her to madness now every spot lit up with a torture that had been fine tuned to reflection. Little water jets tormented her toes and soles amongst the array of tickling devices. Robotic arms poked squeezed and kneaded every sensitive spot of her upper body and legs. Feathers and brushes mounted on tiny wheels and levers tormented every sensitive spot from her neck to the backs of her knees.
The torture went on for only around fifteen minutes as both the machines and the imps switched between tried and tested techniques to break their victim. It felt like an eternity to Gill who felt herself descend back into the tickle-madness as a tube at her nose fed her oxygen and laughing gas, the mixture changed as she was due for a break.
The torture stopped a few minutes later leaving Gill’s breasts rising and falling as she caught her breath. Only her pussy and nipples had been neglected, as she regained some ability to think she realised her nipples felt different. They were still clamped or secured but it felt like tiny needles had been painlessly inserted into them at the areolae and central nubs. Gill had seen some contraptions positioned on her chest during the videos the imps had mocked her with but she had been too scared to try and see just what they had done to her. She did not have time to worry about what the imps were doing to her for long as her phone once again delivered another terrifying message.
“NOOOO! NOT THAT!.... DON’T TICKLE ME DOWN THERE AGAIN!!!” Gill wailed.
The imps responded by showing her footage from their archives of their other victims begging for mercy in the same way and then the sweet torture that was to come. Gill watched horrified as the tiny imps used an array of devilish tickle tools to tickle labia, clitoris and every sensitive spot of each woman who begged in their native French, Dutch, English and all manner of languages. Eventually the begging changed for pleas to stop to the same cries Gill dreaded the imps eliciting form her.
“Please just let me cum!!! Just give me an orgasm I beg you!!!” A tanned blonde woman begged on her screen, her face a twisted mask of torture and longing. Gill supposed the woman must have been captured no earlier than the 90s from her American accent and her foot tattoo.
Her pondering about the tickle-victims who had preceded her was cut short as the imps started teasing her with soft feathers and brushes. The first touches began softly, tracing from where her thighs met her undercarriage. Gill was treated to the same near-live stream mixed with clips of the same torture being inflicted on previous tickle-victims. Gill tried to resist but could not help but sigh and bite her lip as the torture began to increase in intensity. Slowly her folds were explored by the professional perverts.
hese were not the same eager patrons of the carnival tent at her pussy the night before on the beach, instead these cruel professionals knew how to take it slow to gradually break down their victim’s inhibitions. Gill tried to fight becoming aroused but before long she could feel her clitoris stirring from its protective hood.
Gill was distracted as the other teams began to receive intermittent orders to tickle her. Before long she was wet and on the precipice of blossoming. She commanded every ounce of her strength to resist the expertly applied erotic torment but as the imps began using tiny vibrating tools her body betrayed her mind and her clit grew engorged enough to be ensnared for the devious torture her captors had planned.
Gill grunted with frustration as she felt her clitoris be fitted with a tiny vibrator, this one relied on a suction cup to keep in perfectly in place. It was like a direct line to her libido and no amount of squirming could dislodge the perfectly place device that stimulated her in just the right way on just the right spot. With a moan of arousal and defeat Gill felt herself open up. She could feel the terrible gel being applied, the cool viscous liquid stimulated and tingled but she had guessed it had something to do with the horrible process by which her captors would keep the orgasm just out of reach; just as they had on the beach. Their victory was celebrated by each team being given the chance to torment their allocated zone as the gel took effect.
Gill howled for mercy, the intense torture was amplified by her phone showing her point-of-view videos of the tools that tormented her. The imps had special soft cylindrical spinning brushes for her underarms that sported dozens of fronds that spun at an adjustable speed. These new tools explored the sensitive hollows of her underarms that had previously not been exploited to the full extent of their capacity to induce hysterical helpless laugher.
After being tickle-tortured to a furious, red-faced, frantic rage Gill was shown the next cruel phase of her torment. As she cooled down Gill’s phone displayed the imps lining up a long phallic device. They looked like soldier’s preparing a torpedo on a submarine or spaceship. It wasn’t difficult to guess their intention. Gill remembered the terrible inflatable dildo tunnel from the little bastard’s carnival the night before. This terrible device looked like it had special attachments to torment her from within.
Gill gibbered and pleaded a mixture of gibberish and pleas for mercy: ‘Mo Nore!’ and ‘Get me Low!’ where about the most comprehendible, but even had she retained her usual erudite eloquence the imps would not have heeded her pleas for mercy.
Softly they tickled Gill’s pussy as she tried to resist the delicious touches. Slowly Gill responded until she was wet and wide open, ready to receive the new torture toy. Gill grunted with satisfaction as it made its initial thrust. The imps had swapped from tickling her to use special smooth massaging devices that sent every one of her tormented nerves to heaven. Gill’s eyes rolled back in her head as she wished for the orgasm her tormentors denied her.
They had complete chemical and neurological control over her. Gill sensed the IV’s inserted into her perfect ivory skin amongst her bonds that restrained her, but she knew not of the cruel device in the strap that held her head.
The imps had devised a special band that not only monitored their victim’s brain waves but could also influence the brain activity. It cruelly enhanced the torturous tickling sensations, as well as the arousal and desperate need for orgasmic climax; most cruel of all was the way it held this tantalisingly out of reach. Gill would be forced to totter on the brink of an orgasm for days at a time as the device also removed her need for sleep to the point she could be tortured round the clock for weeks at a time. It was a full week before Gill’s captors finally allowed her the release of an orgasm. Still there was no mercy, they introduced the worst, overwhelming tickle-torture to send her into a hypersensitive rage as both sensations engulfed her.
Silently and undetected the insidious band re-wrote her brain waves enhanced the associations between the tickling and the long-awaited sexual release. Afterwards Gill was allowed to rest and sleep as the band needed access to her unconscious mind between sessions. When she awoke she was massaged by both the imps and her torture bench, which bent and moved to stretch her aching muscles. Then the torture resumed.
The tickle and orgasm denial was part of a process that was repeated for several months. Sometimes the imps tickled her slowly and softly, other times they focused only one area, worst of all were the sensory overload sessions. Sometimes Gill awoke on a kneeling device, other times she was on her back. She knew from the videos the imps had other positions in store for her but so far they seemed content to torture her in these two positions have an arsenal of new toys and techniques to test her with.
Gill awoke for one session in a kneeling position, as she glanced around she noticed something was different this time, she was closer to the floor and her breasts and womanhood had been covered with fabric. Also and array of three screens were positioned like a dressing mirror, one straight in front of her and two to the sides at a 40° angle. After an initial ‘wake-up’ tickling session the imps put their plan into operation. Slowly the device to move backwards taking Gill towards the wall on two runners. Two small hatches open allowing her toe-tied feet to pass through the wall to sense cool air and sunshine for the first time in months. Gill whimpered and quivered as she felt the hatches close and hold her ankles securely like a set of terrible futuristic stocks.
The screens came to life in front of Gill showing her and amphitheatre of imps cheering from rows of seats positioned in a semicircle. The camera panned back and forth on the main screen whilst Gill’s helpless soles where shown on to the two flanking it. Then the main screen changed to show Gill’s soles with a large screen above on which she saw her own face. The imps cheered as she recognised herself; the look of fear on her face was a picture, they whooped and chittered as she glanced to the side to see the crowd shot on the side screens. ‘What the hell are they doing to me now?!’ Gill desperately thought.
A team of imps approached her soles, trekking across the sand with tanks and equipment loaded on their backs. Gill winced as they began coating her soles with some kind of yellow sticky goo using spray guns and terribly tickly brushes. The crowd whooped with applause but it was apparent that the main event was yet to come. The build-up of anticipation from the crowd mirrored the build-up of anxiety from their victim as the team retreated from the arena with their equipment, their victim’s soles thoroughly coated in the goo. Suddenly the screen hanged again, the reaction shot from Gill was exactly what the crowd wanted: First confusion, then fear. Gill was in shock, two cats were shown being released from cages like lions into the Colosseum in Ancient Rome.
At first Gill didn’t understand as the captive feline’s paced and padded over the sand. ‘Where on earth did they get these cats from?’ Gill wondered to herself as the two lost pets prowled and stretched, glad to be free of their cages. They were clearly domestic cats; one black and white the other a tabby, they looked cute to Gill but they would be as large as lions or tigers to the imps. Angrily they hissed at the crowd and tried to jump high enough to get to the stands where their tiny captors whooped and chittered.
Eventually hunger overcame anger and they slunk towards their delicious meal on Gill’s soles. Every inch of Gill’s soles was exposed as the tiny toe-ties splayed out her toes and held her arches taut. Both cats started at her toes where the goo had collected in great abundance without dripping onto the sand.
“No!. Noo!.. Arrrgh! Ahaha haha haha!!!.. Please get them off! Arrrgh! Ahaha haha haha!!!” Gill screamed as they cats rough, wet sandpapery tongues came into contact with her ultra-sensitive toes.
The toe-ties made the kitten-torture a hundred times worse, not only could Gill not move but every spot of her sensitive spread of toes was exposed to the cats’ ravenous tongues. The toe-ties offered little protection being composed of dozens of tiny strong thin strands like dental floss that barely covered a millimetre of skin but held firm and fast at each joint of Gill’s long luscious toes.
Gill toes were licked clean to the delight of the crowd who whooped, cheered and chanted. Then the cats began licking her arches and the balls of her feet, their rough sandpapery tongues lapping and licking at the delicious goo. This kicked Gill’s hysteria into overdrive; whilst the toes had been more torturous, this was more unpredictable. The cats climbed and stretched using little paw-holds built into the wall around Gill’s trapped soles. The torture seemed to go on for hours but the crowd remained as hungry as the cats. Once every spot of Gill’s soles were licked clean apart from the very top of her heels the two cats began to lose interest.
‘Finally!’ Gill thought as she caught her breath.
Her relief was pre-mature though. A nozzle appeared from the wall and sprayed her heels with more of the goo.
“Noooo!” Gill wailed as she felt the cool liquid running down her arches.
Within seconds the cats resumed licking. Gill’s soles were not as thoroughly coated as before but the goo managed to make it as far as her toes and her laughter and pleas for mercy grew as loud as before. Exhausted Gill hung from her bonds. She didn’t know how the cats were wrangled and removed from the area beyond the wall, only regaining focus when the scrubbing of her soles began.
The imps used long necked spray guns and an array of spinning scrubbing brushes to remove all traces of cat-saliva and the fish-paste the had licked from Gill’s captive soles. The brushes tickled terribly and pushed Gill into a terrible silent-laughter such that she could only just gasp enough air to remain conscious. After scrubbing her soles clean the imps gave Gill a cruel respite. With special torches and heated massage tools they roasted and oiled her exfoliated soles until they shone a deep pink in the sun. Angrily Gill screamed as soon as she had enough air in her lungs.
The games had just begun. Gill watched the imps compete in tickling games and trials of strength and dexterity to take a turn tickling her super-sensitive soles. There were tools placed around her, including; brushes and scratching devices as well as all manner of feathers. The special gloves were an exceptional treat and were favoured especially on her trapped toes, their creator glowed with pride: Gill’s predecessors’ showing little increased reaction to them during his youth. The torture carried on all day until the sun began to set. The games became a unique point in Gill’s memory, all the other torture sessions blurring into one with a few exceptions.
One exception was another festival where she awoke in a kneeling device positioned in what looked like a shopping mall for the imps. Again she was covered if not clothed, and as the imps roamed and did their shopping they paid to tickle her, climbing up the frame around her. As Gill laughed and begged she spotted merchandise with her face on all around the mall. It was like she was a giant Christmas tree, positioned to be tortured and not just looked at. Gill would return to the arena to feed the cats again and again, she couldn’t work out if the games were weekly or monthly as all of her other torture sessions blurred into one as her surreal torture went on. Despite this the prospect of the cats’ tongues keep her nervous as she never knew what to expect when waking up.
Slowly the memory of any other form of life was becoming fainter and fainter. Gill was delirious but noticed her breasts were getting larger, she had been a C cup but both breasts were steadily growing in size. She had noticed this in the videos of the women from the 80s and 90s also. Around half way through Gill’s second month of torment the reason for this became clear; she awoke on the kneeling device with her nipples free and feeling the cool air of the room. She was gagged with a feeding pipe as she had been during other breaks between torture sessions. The food they fed her tasted strange but she had become accustomed to it and welcomed the brief respite from torture. Unlike previous feeding sessions though her nipples were free to the air. This did not last long, Gill inhaled sharply at the sensation of a suction device being applied to her right nipple.
Gill's mind raced, then she remembered the confusing threat ‘we are going to milk you’. Another suction device was applied and began to stimulate her aching, engorged nipple. Gill sighed and moaned as her body responded to the pumps that softly squeezed and stimulated her nipples. It felt almost satisfying as her body obeyed the imps organic re-programming. Gill ate as she lactated and mused at why the imps wanted her milk: ‘was she just a cow to them?’… ‘or did they need it for their advanced science?’. Gill knew that with all their technology the imps could probably take over the world or at least give humanity a run for their money.
Gill wondered again what had become of the other women in the videos but tried to put morbid curiosity aside as these feeding, and now milking sessions were the only chance for sane rational thought she was allowed by her cruel captors.
After testing and celebrating the success of their adjustments to their victim’s lactation glands the imps returned to work. Re-wiring of their captors mind was a delicate process and it took months of torment before they were ready to test their diligent work. Gill even began to dream of being tickled, as well as tickling the other women she had seen in the videos. Finally after months of being forced to endure more and more intense orgasm denial Gill was put to the test. The imps began by warming her up with a gentle pussy-tickle as they showed her one of the most effective vibrating devices her phone’s screen, being positioned ready for insertion. Gill instantly moistened and opened, the memory of the delicious orgasm the terrible torpedo had ravaged upon her engulfing her mind like an earthquake. Then the unthinkable happened, as the imps started softly tickling her everywhere from her delicate neck to long trapped toes her body continued to grow more aroused without any stimulation to her womanhood.
They had done this before of course as part of her teasing and torment but what was unthinkable was the climax Gill felt arrive ahead of the expected weeks of denial and pleading. The team tickling her pussy had stopped and waved to her from the screen mockingly. Gill didn’t question it at first, a part of her rejoiced as she felt the first waves of pleasure wash over her. The tickling was still as unbearable as it was relentless and yet Gill’s body responded with orgasm after orgasm. As Gill’s strength began to fade the imps began to feed her the chemicals to keep her awake through the IV’s. In order for this to be a fair test they had reset Gill to her standard hormonal and chemical balance, her breast adjustments aside.
They cheered and celebrated as Gill continued to suffer and climax, trapped in both heaven and hell at the same time as a result of the diabolical tickle torture. They tested every ticklish spot at every intensity before returning to tickle her pussy and fuck her silly with her favourite device. Gill was truly broken and even screamed: “Yes! Yes! YES!!!! YES!!!!” As the vibrator brought her to orgasm for what felt like the hundredth time.
Gill was tickled to orgasm again and again until she could not wait for the torture to start when waking up on a new device. Her captors favoured the bench and kneeling devices and after a few months she would beg them to tickle her as the devices stretched her aching limbs. Sometimes they would suspend her vertically from her wrists or ankles, or horizontally from a rack-like device. As much as Gill would beg for the torture to start, after her first orgasm she would change to beg the imps to stop.
The band hidden in her head restraints remained unknown and unsuspected until the imps tested the next phase of their diabolical scheme. After months of analysis they finally tested its cruellest ability: simulated sensory output. Gill was blindfolded at first and felt the first tickling sensations with a mixture of revulsion and arousal, then the blindfold was whipped away. Gill could not believe what she saw. She had been restrained with her head bent forwards facing down her supine body which was free of the torturers and devices she felt overwhelming her with tickle-torture and arousal. Gill’s restraints bent her head back so she faced her phone which read:
AND NOW WE DON’T
EVEN NEED TO TOUCH YOU
TO TORTURE YOU!
Gill continued to suffer. The imps experimented with tickling her manually whilst also activating the neurons in her brain detected from previous torture sessions and found they could achieve the best results with a gentle tickling imposed on the backdrop of the most extreme, overwhelmingly intense torture session from their memory banks of Gill’s suffering. As Gill suffered and relished the torment inflicted upon her she sometimes saw little capsules arrive in pressurised tubes amongst the control panels on the edge of her vision. More often she heard the little POP of their arrival as her visions was normally limited by her bondage. Gill thought little of them; being half anxious half eager about the torture due to be inflicted on her anticipating body, during her sessions she took in no such details being too overwhelmed.
It was on her final day of torture that she really began to wonder about the little tubes. The imps were sending and receiving lots of little capsules as proven by pop after pop. So far the tickling had been different too. The teams seemed to come and go, each taking a turn at various ticklish spots before ascending to a viewing gallery. Gill was restrained on her back in a new device that held her securely with bonds that could be moved to change her position ever so slightly. There were also tickling devices built into the strange pod but they were rarely used. It all seemed slightly too simple for the imps, but Gill didn’t question it. When they adjusted her so she was sitting up at 30° she noticed something else odd, there was a large circular door that the device was pointed directly at. As Gill was tickled and edged one last time by the imps she remembered the final message on the screen of her phone.
Panic set in. As much as her confinement was close to a living hell it was something she had grown accustomed to, now the threat of new tormentors and tortures utterly terrified Gill. It all made sense, the imps were all taking one last chance to tickle their favourite spots. She was returned to a secure position with her legs extended and her arms to her sides. A vibrator built into the device pushed her close to the brink as the headband transmitted the tickling sensations proven to give her the most intense orgasms. Gill tried to resist, desperate to hang on to the acquired comfort of the laboratory of torment. It was impossible and a round of applause from tiny hands heralded her final and most intense orgasm so far. The device began to whir and two metal panels began to close above and around her to form a cylinder. Gill panicked as the pod was loaded onto two runners and the enormous hatch began to open. She had never really noticed the door before as it had been obscured by instruments, panels and equipment.
Gill’s mind raced as the pod disappeared with a pop into the looming tunnel. Everything was dark but Gill could feel the pod twist and turn as it plummeted like a juggernaut towards the unknown. What would wait her when she finally stopped her descent; more torture, freedom, her doom?
Gill awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep. She was surrounded by the kind of deep darkness that only exhaustion induced unconsciousness provides. Gill had been stripped and tickle tortured on the beach of a tropical island she had discovered after months of sailing and years of obsessive study. After capturing her and inflicting a humiliating torture session, her tiny captors had made her into a sadistic carnival attraction and tortured her hypersensitive body with both tickling and orgasm denial. Their celebration had ended with the most intense, earth shattering orgasm Gill had experienced.
As Gill's senses slowly returned to her she felt that she was still restrained on her back, but there was no sand and her bonds had been changed. She was supported from her head to her ass by some sort of table. Straps held her arms, legs and head to the table and mechanical arms.
As her eyes flickered open shapes began to take form, her phone swirled into focus. Gill took no comfort from the sight of this familiar object. Her heightened senses told her she wasn't in her boat; the smell was wrong, the air was wrong and she couldn't move. Unlike her torment on the beach now her arms and legs were pulled back behind her at an obtuse angle, causing a gentle strain on her hips and making her thrust her chest out.
Gill briefly took in her surroundings, she seemed to be in some sort of laboratory or hangar. She couldn't hear any of the evil little imps chittering but as she moved her eyes from side to side she suddenly noticed two words on the screen of her phone.
GOOD MORNING.
Gill shivered. 'Did they know she was awake or had the message been there before...' as she pondered the words changed.
YOU ARE OUR NEWEST TEST SUBJECT.
Gill's heart skipped a beat. She saw that they had suspended her phone above her and the USB cable was plugged into what she guessed was their computer. The words changed again, Gill's eyes widened as each new message flashed up on her phone's screen.
WE ARE GOING TO TICKLE YOU
WE ARE GOING TO TEASE YOU
WE ARE GOING TO TORTURE YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO BREAK YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO ALTER YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO MILK YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO SELL YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO TEASE YOU
WE ARE GOING TO TORTURE YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO BREAK YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO ALTER YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO MILK YOU.
WE ARE GOING TO SELL YOU.
Gill watched in pure terror as the white text slowly changed to announce what her cruel captors had planned for her. The text changed again to read.
WE ARE GOING TO TICKLE YOU....
LIKE THIS....
Suddenly her phone came alive with a woman screaming with laughter interspersed with the words: "NON!... NON!..."
Gill watched in horror as the poor woman laughed and pleaded for the torture to stop in French. Gill recognised the woman, it took her a few minutes to realise where she knew her from. It was the ambassador's wife who disappeared in the late 20's. Unlike the black and white photos from the newspaper reports about her affair and disappearance the video was in colour and high-def.
'These little bastards are more advanced than us!' Gill realised.
Her captors let her wake up to a selection of the video of their former victims. As well as dread and horror Gill felt oddly disappointed that she had not been the first to discover this island. She watched as various women were tickled in a variety of bondage positions. Some knelt on terrible contraptions whilst others were strapped face up and face down to torture tables, one was even suspended from her ankles.
Gill guessed the little imps had been at it a while, there were women she guessed were from the Victorian and Edwardian eras as well as a few 17th Century wenches and even a dark skinned tattooed woman who wailed in a language totally unfamiliar to Gill: ‘Possibly one of the natives whose culture was lost when the Spanish cleared the Caribbean to the slave markets in Hispaniola…’ Gill thought to herself, ever dreading when it would be her turn to be tickle-tortured next.
From the videos of women being tickled she guessed she was restrained on the same equipment as the ambassador’s wife from the first video. She could feel the tight toe-ties that kept her arches taut and her tender digits splayed out. Her underarms and the backs of her knees were also stretched out making them both vulnerable and sensitive. Having her legs bent back at the hip also made her womanhood feel vulnerable, although Gill wasn’t too sure what the imps had done down there. Something else was incorporated into the bench and Gill could feel the now-familiar feel of a catheter as well as a new arrangement of devices around her womanhood and some contraption in her anus.
The video parade of ticklish women ended and Gill was treated instead to a close up view of her helpless body, one tickle-target at a time. Her tiny captors waved from their stations at her feet, underarms, thighs and pussy. Each had an array of tickle-tools to manually stimulate her along with the automatic tickling devices that were positioned between her toes and at every inaccessible ticklish spot.
Gill had witnessed these devices tickling the 20th century women and dreaded feeling them come to life. There were hundreds of tiny brushes, along with scrapers, pointers and tiny vibrating devices like hairbrushes. Gill whimpered in anticipation as her phone once more turned to black with white terrifying letters that read:
READY?
As a countdown began flickering down from a large white number 5 Gill finally lost her resolve not to give the imps the emotional response they wanted;
“No!.... Please don’t do this!... Why are you doing this?!’ WHY????!!!” She pleaded.
BECAUSE IT
IS FUN!
IS FUN!
The white words appeared just as the tickling started. The little imps were professionals, unlike those at the fair, but due to their sadistic nature they couldn’t help gleefully digging in with a pitiless fervour before beginning their task of mapping and documenting their prize’s most ticklish spots. All of the teams except the ones at her pussy had the joy of torturing the hyper-sensitive giantess, eagerly the small team of sadists between her legs waited for the special prize they had in store for their victim.
The two teams at her feet had hit the jackpot, Gill screamed as they eagerly began using their many devices to torment her freshly sensitivised feet. While Gill was asleep they had treated her soft pale soles with lotions and oils and heated them to just the right temperature to increase the sensitivity of every nerve. Now Gill’s feet were at the peak of their sensitivity and being given a merciless tickling that was only made worse when the devices were switched on. Gill screamed with rage as the terrible devices came to life between her toes, exploring every spot more thoroughly that a hundred of the imps could.
Two more teams between her legs inflicted an infuriating soft torment of the sensitive spots behind her knees. These sensitive areas were checked manually with feathers and soft brushes before the automatic tickling devices sporting the same soft tips were calibrated and positioned in place. The two teams of three imps to a knee then ascended to join the team at Gill’s thighs who were applying special squeezing machines to inflict the deeper sensations their tiny hands could not.
More such machines were positioned at Gill’s hips, ribs and sides and slowly her torture was being perfected as the teams at her underarms and neck eased their gleeful first flurry of tickles to check which techniques worked best. The teams were instructed to stop so that one area at a time could be checked as Gill wailed and screamed between bouts of laughter. She threatened and tried to break the device but her bonds held firm as her captors perfected the art of torturing her.
Gill was the perfect tickle victim for the imps. The teams at her feet found she even responded well to a few experimental tickling devices such as the gloves which sported dozens of tiny vibrating tickle tools on the tips of each finger. Previous captives had shown no greater response to these that the imp’s fingers alone but Gill was a special case, being hypersensitive enough to feel the nearly microscopic brushes and scrapers that tips each of the gloves.
Each ticklish area was checked by both the team on site and from the control panels that controlled the tickling machines. The screen of Gill’s phone changed from a near-live stream (her captors showed it to her on five second delay to increase her torment) to more white words:
ALL TOGETHER NOW!
“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” Gill wailed, even one team by itself was enough to tickle her to madness now every spot lit up with a torture that had been fine tuned to reflection. Little water jets tormented her toes and soles amongst the array of tickling devices. Robotic arms poked squeezed and kneaded every sensitive spot of her upper body and legs. Feathers and brushes mounted on tiny wheels and levers tormented every sensitive spot from her neck to the backs of her knees.
The torture went on for only around fifteen minutes as both the machines and the imps switched between tried and tested techniques to break their victim. It felt like an eternity to Gill who felt herself descend back into the tickle-madness as a tube at her nose fed her oxygen and laughing gas, the mixture changed as she was due for a break.
The torture stopped a few minutes later leaving Gill’s breasts rising and falling as she caught her breath. Only her pussy and nipples had been neglected, as she regained some ability to think she realised her nipples felt different. They were still clamped or secured but it felt like tiny needles had been painlessly inserted into them at the areolae and central nubs. Gill had seen some contraptions positioned on her chest during the videos the imps had mocked her with but she had been too scared to try and see just what they had done to her. She did not have time to worry about what the imps were doing to her for long as her phone once again delivered another terrifying message.
TIME FOR YOUR PUSSY…
“NOOOO! NOT THAT!.... DON’T TICKLE ME DOWN THERE AGAIN!!!” Gill wailed.
The imps responded by showing her footage from their archives of their other victims begging for mercy in the same way and then the sweet torture that was to come. Gill watched horrified as the tiny imps used an array of devilish tickle tools to tickle labia, clitoris and every sensitive spot of each woman who begged in their native French, Dutch, English and all manner of languages. Eventually the begging changed for pleas to stop to the same cries Gill dreaded the imps eliciting form her.
“Please just let me cum!!! Just give me an orgasm I beg you!!!” A tanned blonde woman begged on her screen, her face a twisted mask of torture and longing. Gill supposed the woman must have been captured no earlier than the 90s from her American accent and her foot tattoo.
Her pondering about the tickle-victims who had preceded her was cut short as the imps started teasing her with soft feathers and brushes. The first touches began softly, tracing from where her thighs met her undercarriage. Gill was treated to the same near-live stream mixed with clips of the same torture being inflicted on previous tickle-victims. Gill tried to resist but could not help but sigh and bite her lip as the torture began to increase in intensity. Slowly her folds were explored by the professional perverts.
hese were not the same eager patrons of the carnival tent at her pussy the night before on the beach, instead these cruel professionals knew how to take it slow to gradually break down their victim’s inhibitions. Gill tried to fight becoming aroused but before long she could feel her clitoris stirring from its protective hood.
Gill was distracted as the other teams began to receive intermittent orders to tickle her. Before long she was wet and on the precipice of blossoming. She commanded every ounce of her strength to resist the expertly applied erotic torment but as the imps began using tiny vibrating tools her body betrayed her mind and her clit grew engorged enough to be ensnared for the devious torture her captors had planned.
Gill grunted with frustration as she felt her clitoris be fitted with a tiny vibrator, this one relied on a suction cup to keep in perfectly in place. It was like a direct line to her libido and no amount of squirming could dislodge the perfectly place device that stimulated her in just the right way on just the right spot. With a moan of arousal and defeat Gill felt herself open up. She could feel the terrible gel being applied, the cool viscous liquid stimulated and tingled but she had guessed it had something to do with the horrible process by which her captors would keep the orgasm just out of reach; just as they had on the beach. Their victory was celebrated by each team being given the chance to torment their allocated zone as the gel took effect.
Gill howled for mercy, the intense torture was amplified by her phone showing her point-of-view videos of the tools that tormented her. The imps had special soft cylindrical spinning brushes for her underarms that sported dozens of fronds that spun at an adjustable speed. These new tools explored the sensitive hollows of her underarms that had previously not been exploited to the full extent of their capacity to induce hysterical helpless laugher.
After being tickle-tortured to a furious, red-faced, frantic rage Gill was shown the next cruel phase of her torment. As she cooled down Gill’s phone displayed the imps lining up a long phallic device. They looked like soldier’s preparing a torpedo on a submarine or spaceship. It wasn’t difficult to guess their intention. Gill remembered the terrible inflatable dildo tunnel from the little bastard’s carnival the night before. This terrible device looked like it had special attachments to torment her from within.
Gill gibbered and pleaded a mixture of gibberish and pleas for mercy: ‘Mo Nore!’ and ‘Get me Low!’ where about the most comprehendible, but even had she retained her usual erudite eloquence the imps would not have heeded her pleas for mercy.
Softly they tickled Gill’s pussy as she tried to resist the delicious touches. Slowly Gill responded until she was wet and wide open, ready to receive the new torture toy. Gill grunted with satisfaction as it made its initial thrust. The imps had swapped from tickling her to use special smooth massaging devices that sent every one of her tormented nerves to heaven. Gill’s eyes rolled back in her head as she wished for the orgasm her tormentors denied her.
They had complete chemical and neurological control over her. Gill sensed the IV’s inserted into her perfect ivory skin amongst her bonds that restrained her, but she knew not of the cruel device in the strap that held her head.
The imps had devised a special band that not only monitored their victim’s brain waves but could also influence the brain activity. It cruelly enhanced the torturous tickling sensations, as well as the arousal and desperate need for orgasmic climax; most cruel of all was the way it held this tantalisingly out of reach. Gill would be forced to totter on the brink of an orgasm for days at a time as the device also removed her need for sleep to the point she could be tortured round the clock for weeks at a time. It was a full week before Gill’s captors finally allowed her the release of an orgasm. Still there was no mercy, they introduced the worst, overwhelming tickle-torture to send her into a hypersensitive rage as both sensations engulfed her.
Silently and undetected the insidious band re-wrote her brain waves enhanced the associations between the tickling and the long-awaited sexual release. Afterwards Gill was allowed to rest and sleep as the band needed access to her unconscious mind between sessions. When she awoke she was massaged by both the imps and her torture bench, which bent and moved to stretch her aching muscles. Then the torture resumed.
The tickle and orgasm denial was part of a process that was repeated for several months. Sometimes the imps tickled her slowly and softly, other times they focused only one area, worst of all were the sensory overload sessions. Sometimes Gill awoke on a kneeling device, other times she was on her back. She knew from the videos the imps had other positions in store for her but so far they seemed content to torture her in these two positions have an arsenal of new toys and techniques to test her with.
Gill awoke for one session in a kneeling position, as she glanced around she noticed something was different this time, she was closer to the floor and her breasts and womanhood had been covered with fabric. Also and array of three screens were positioned like a dressing mirror, one straight in front of her and two to the sides at a 40° angle. After an initial ‘wake-up’ tickling session the imps put their plan into operation. Slowly the device to move backwards taking Gill towards the wall on two runners. Two small hatches open allowing her toe-tied feet to pass through the wall to sense cool air and sunshine for the first time in months. Gill whimpered and quivered as she felt the hatches close and hold her ankles securely like a set of terrible futuristic stocks.
The screens came to life in front of Gill showing her and amphitheatre of imps cheering from rows of seats positioned in a semicircle. The camera panned back and forth on the main screen whilst Gill’s helpless soles where shown on to the two flanking it. Then the main screen changed to show Gill’s soles with a large screen above on which she saw her own face. The imps cheered as she recognised herself; the look of fear on her face was a picture, they whooped and chittered as she glanced to the side to see the crowd shot on the side screens. ‘What the hell are they doing to me now?!’ Gill desperately thought.
A team of imps approached her soles, trekking across the sand with tanks and equipment loaded on their backs. Gill winced as they began coating her soles with some kind of yellow sticky goo using spray guns and terribly tickly brushes. The crowd whooped with applause but it was apparent that the main event was yet to come. The build-up of anticipation from the crowd mirrored the build-up of anxiety from their victim as the team retreated from the arena with their equipment, their victim’s soles thoroughly coated in the goo. Suddenly the screen hanged again, the reaction shot from Gill was exactly what the crowd wanted: First confusion, then fear. Gill was in shock, two cats were shown being released from cages like lions into the Colosseum in Ancient Rome.
At first Gill didn’t understand as the captive feline’s paced and padded over the sand. ‘Where on earth did they get these cats from?’ Gill wondered to herself as the two lost pets prowled and stretched, glad to be free of their cages. They were clearly domestic cats; one black and white the other a tabby, they looked cute to Gill but they would be as large as lions or tigers to the imps. Angrily they hissed at the crowd and tried to jump high enough to get to the stands where their tiny captors whooped and chittered.
Eventually hunger overcame anger and they slunk towards their delicious meal on Gill’s soles. Every inch of Gill’s soles was exposed as the tiny toe-ties splayed out her toes and held her arches taut. Both cats started at her toes where the goo had collected in great abundance without dripping onto the sand.
“No!. Noo!.. Arrrgh! Ahaha haha haha!!!.. Please get them off! Arrrgh! Ahaha haha haha!!!” Gill screamed as they cats rough, wet sandpapery tongues came into contact with her ultra-sensitive toes.
The toe-ties made the kitten-torture a hundred times worse, not only could Gill not move but every spot of her sensitive spread of toes was exposed to the cats’ ravenous tongues. The toe-ties offered little protection being composed of dozens of tiny strong thin strands like dental floss that barely covered a millimetre of skin but held firm and fast at each joint of Gill’s long luscious toes.
Gill toes were licked clean to the delight of the crowd who whooped, cheered and chanted. Then the cats began licking her arches and the balls of her feet, their rough sandpapery tongues lapping and licking at the delicious goo. This kicked Gill’s hysteria into overdrive; whilst the toes had been more torturous, this was more unpredictable. The cats climbed and stretched using little paw-holds built into the wall around Gill’s trapped soles. The torture seemed to go on for hours but the crowd remained as hungry as the cats. Once every spot of Gill’s soles were licked clean apart from the very top of her heels the two cats began to lose interest.
‘Finally!’ Gill thought as she caught her breath.
Her relief was pre-mature though. A nozzle appeared from the wall and sprayed her heels with more of the goo.
“Noooo!” Gill wailed as she felt the cool liquid running down her arches.
Within seconds the cats resumed licking. Gill’s soles were not as thoroughly coated as before but the goo managed to make it as far as her toes and her laughter and pleas for mercy grew as loud as before. Exhausted Gill hung from her bonds. She didn’t know how the cats were wrangled and removed from the area beyond the wall, only regaining focus when the scrubbing of her soles began.
The imps used long necked spray guns and an array of spinning scrubbing brushes to remove all traces of cat-saliva and the fish-paste the had licked from Gill’s captive soles. The brushes tickled terribly and pushed Gill into a terrible silent-laughter such that she could only just gasp enough air to remain conscious. After scrubbing her soles clean the imps gave Gill a cruel respite. With special torches and heated massage tools they roasted and oiled her exfoliated soles until they shone a deep pink in the sun. Angrily Gill screamed as soon as she had enough air in her lungs.
The games had just begun. Gill watched the imps compete in tickling games and trials of strength and dexterity to take a turn tickling her super-sensitive soles. There were tools placed around her, including; brushes and scratching devices as well as all manner of feathers. The special gloves were an exceptional treat and were favoured especially on her trapped toes, their creator glowed with pride: Gill’s predecessors’ showing little increased reaction to them during his youth. The torture carried on all day until the sun began to set. The games became a unique point in Gill’s memory, all the other torture sessions blurring into one with a few exceptions.
One exception was another festival where she awoke in a kneeling device positioned in what looked like a shopping mall for the imps. Again she was covered if not clothed, and as the imps roamed and did their shopping they paid to tickle her, climbing up the frame around her. As Gill laughed and begged she spotted merchandise with her face on all around the mall. It was like she was a giant Christmas tree, positioned to be tortured and not just looked at. Gill would return to the arena to feed the cats again and again, she couldn’t work out if the games were weekly or monthly as all of her other torture sessions blurred into one as her surreal torture went on. Despite this the prospect of the cats’ tongues keep her nervous as she never knew what to expect when waking up.
Slowly the memory of any other form of life was becoming fainter and fainter. Gill was delirious but noticed her breasts were getting larger, she had been a C cup but both breasts were steadily growing in size. She had noticed this in the videos of the women from the 80s and 90s also. Around half way through Gill’s second month of torment the reason for this became clear; she awoke on the kneeling device with her nipples free and feeling the cool air of the room. She was gagged with a feeding pipe as she had been during other breaks between torture sessions. The food they fed her tasted strange but she had become accustomed to it and welcomed the brief respite from torture. Unlike previous feeding sessions though her nipples were free to the air. This did not last long, Gill inhaled sharply at the sensation of a suction device being applied to her right nipple.
Gill's mind raced, then she remembered the confusing threat ‘we are going to milk you’. Another suction device was applied and began to stimulate her aching, engorged nipple. Gill sighed and moaned as her body responded to the pumps that softly squeezed and stimulated her nipples. It felt almost satisfying as her body obeyed the imps organic re-programming. Gill ate as she lactated and mused at why the imps wanted her milk: ‘was she just a cow to them?’… ‘or did they need it for their advanced science?’. Gill knew that with all their technology the imps could probably take over the world or at least give humanity a run for their money.
Gill wondered again what had become of the other women in the videos but tried to put morbid curiosity aside as these feeding, and now milking sessions were the only chance for sane rational thought she was allowed by her cruel captors.
After testing and celebrating the success of their adjustments to their victim’s lactation glands the imps returned to work. Re-wiring of their captors mind was a delicate process and it took months of torment before they were ready to test their diligent work. Gill even began to dream of being tickled, as well as tickling the other women she had seen in the videos. Finally after months of being forced to endure more and more intense orgasm denial Gill was put to the test. The imps began by warming her up with a gentle pussy-tickle as they showed her one of the most effective vibrating devices her phone’s screen, being positioned ready for insertion. Gill instantly moistened and opened, the memory of the delicious orgasm the terrible torpedo had ravaged upon her engulfing her mind like an earthquake. Then the unthinkable happened, as the imps started softly tickling her everywhere from her delicate neck to long trapped toes her body continued to grow more aroused without any stimulation to her womanhood.
They had done this before of course as part of her teasing and torment but what was unthinkable was the climax Gill felt arrive ahead of the expected weeks of denial and pleading. The team tickling her pussy had stopped and waved to her from the screen mockingly. Gill didn’t question it at first, a part of her rejoiced as she felt the first waves of pleasure wash over her. The tickling was still as unbearable as it was relentless and yet Gill’s body responded with orgasm after orgasm. As Gill’s strength began to fade the imps began to feed her the chemicals to keep her awake through the IV’s. In order for this to be a fair test they had reset Gill to her standard hormonal and chemical balance, her breast adjustments aside.
They cheered and celebrated as Gill continued to suffer and climax, trapped in both heaven and hell at the same time as a result of the diabolical tickle torture. They tested every ticklish spot at every intensity before returning to tickle her pussy and fuck her silly with her favourite device. Gill was truly broken and even screamed: “Yes! Yes! YES!!!! YES!!!!” As the vibrator brought her to orgasm for what felt like the hundredth time.
Gill was tickled to orgasm again and again until she could not wait for the torture to start when waking up on a new device. Her captors favoured the bench and kneeling devices and after a few months she would beg them to tickle her as the devices stretched her aching limbs. Sometimes they would suspend her vertically from her wrists or ankles, or horizontally from a rack-like device. As much as Gill would beg for the torture to start, after her first orgasm she would change to beg the imps to stop.
The band hidden in her head restraints remained unknown and unsuspected until the imps tested the next phase of their diabolical scheme. After months of analysis they finally tested its cruellest ability: simulated sensory output. Gill was blindfolded at first and felt the first tickling sensations with a mixture of revulsion and arousal, then the blindfold was whipped away. Gill could not believe what she saw. She had been restrained with her head bent forwards facing down her supine body which was free of the torturers and devices she felt overwhelming her with tickle-torture and arousal. Gill’s restraints bent her head back so she faced her phone which read:
AND NOW WE DON’T
EVEN NEED TO TOUCH YOU
TO TORTURE YOU!
Gill continued to suffer. The imps experimented with tickling her manually whilst also activating the neurons in her brain detected from previous torture sessions and found they could achieve the best results with a gentle tickling imposed on the backdrop of the most extreme, overwhelmingly intense torture session from their memory banks of Gill’s suffering. As Gill suffered and relished the torment inflicted upon her she sometimes saw little capsules arrive in pressurised tubes amongst the control panels on the edge of her vision. More often she heard the little POP of their arrival as her visions was normally limited by her bondage. Gill thought little of them; being half anxious half eager about the torture due to be inflicted on her anticipating body, during her sessions she took in no such details being too overwhelmed.
It was on her final day of torture that she really began to wonder about the little tubes. The imps were sending and receiving lots of little capsules as proven by pop after pop. So far the tickling had been different too. The teams seemed to come and go, each taking a turn at various ticklish spots before ascending to a viewing gallery. Gill was restrained on her back in a new device that held her securely with bonds that could be moved to change her position ever so slightly. There were also tickling devices built into the strange pod but they were rarely used. It all seemed slightly too simple for the imps, but Gill didn’t question it. When they adjusted her so she was sitting up at 30° she noticed something else odd, there was a large circular door that the device was pointed directly at. As Gill was tickled and edged one last time by the imps she remembered the final message on the screen of her phone.
‘WE ARE GOING TO SELL YOU’
Panic set in. As much as her confinement was close to a living hell it was something she had grown accustomed to, now the threat of new tormentors and tortures utterly terrified Gill. It all made sense, the imps were all taking one last chance to tickle their favourite spots. She was returned to a secure position with her legs extended and her arms to her sides. A vibrator built into the device pushed her close to the brink as the headband transmitted the tickling sensations proven to give her the most intense orgasms. Gill tried to resist, desperate to hang on to the acquired comfort of the laboratory of torment. It was impossible and a round of applause from tiny hands heralded her final and most intense orgasm so far. The device began to whir and two metal panels began to close above and around her to form a cylinder. Gill panicked as the pod was loaded onto two runners and the enormous hatch began to open. She had never really noticed the door before as it had been obscured by instruments, panels and equipment.
Gill’s mind raced as the pod disappeared with a pop into the looming tunnel. Everything was dark but Gill could feel the pod twist and turn as it plummeted like a juggernaut towards the unknown. What would wait her when she finally stopped her descent; more torture, freedom, her doom?
