Warden Keller
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A Day In Cersei’s Tickling Prison
By Ash Brown, commissioned by Warden Keller
No one knew of Cersi’s secret obsession; neither did they know that her dungeon of torture lay deep beneath the red keep.
She had a set of guards located around its location. If anyone were to stumble across it they had orders to execute on sight unless it was one of her many female enemies, then they were captured, locked away and prepared for the many hours of brutal foot torture she had designed.
She didn’t know what it was, but torturing the feet of her enemies had become a secret pleasure of hers over the years. She found it amusing to watch them squeal and scream as the soles of their feet were overstimulated.
She loved the way their bodies tenses as the skin became sore and raw with the repeated stimulation. It was her favourite way of getting back at her enemies, a present to them from her.
As she walks down the large, stone spiralling staircase, she can’t help but pick out the cries and plea’s of her captives and the sound is thrilling to her ears.
Could there be anything better?
Well, there was a specific enemy that she would love to have tied down and tortured, and it was none other than the Dragon Riding Bitch Queen, Daenerys Targaryen.
It would bring her extreme pleasure and satisfaction to have that white-haired slut tied down and repeatedly tortured until she could no longer scream.
Indeed that fantasy probably wouldn’t arise until further down the line. Still, until the opportunity arrives, she would have to find pleasure in her current captives and hope that her many enemies came knocking on the door.
A guard opens the large door to the torture chamber, and she smiles, stepping in to look at the delightful scenes. She had captives in cages, captives in cells and her favourite was when she had a prisoner hanging from the ceiling by their wrists, a specially designed foot torture machine providing an overbearing stimulation to their over sensitised toes beneath.
It was a simple design. The user was bound from above so that their bodies hung from a hook suspension in the ceiling. Then their feet were then locked in a wooden foot pillory. Below the pillory was a contraption made by Qyburn. It was hundreds of feathers tied together which moved backwards and forwards when the wheel to the side was turned.
Cersei had no clue how it worked; all she knew is that it got the job done wonderfully. A guard was regularly stationed at the wheel, their orders to turn the wheel frequently until told otherwise.
She smiles as she witnesses Margery Tyrell hanging by her wrists; her body stripped bare of clothing as the machine scrapes backwards and forwards at a relatively quickened speed. Her feet are red and raw, her throat sore as she barely musters whimpers of extreme agony.
“I see the machine has done me well once more.”
Margery pulls her head up and spits at the Queen’s feet, her body slick with sweat as she curses the Queen beneath her strangled breath.
Her feet were on fire from the continuous tickling, her whole body crying to give up, but of course, the cruel Queen Cersei would never allow her to rest. She had waited patiently for her opportunity, and blowing up the sept was just her way of getting Margery in her clutches.
“You can stop the wheel for now.”
Cersei walks to Margery and smiles.
“Guards would you mind taking her over to her cell and lock her to her bed. I want her ankles locked in a pillory as well.”
They nod and begin to untie Margery, and Cersei can’t help but smile as she falls limp in the guard’s arms. She watches as they drag her body along, and her eyes focus on the sensitive bottoms of Margery's tortured feet. They were red from continuous use of the gadget, and Cersei couldn’t wait to explore the sensitivity of the fragile skin further.
Cersei follows and sits at the chair situated next to the pillory. Of course, she could have her guards perform all of her torturous ticklings, but what would be the fun in that. No, Cersei loved to get a hands-on approach.
Once Margery’s feet were locked into place, Cersei couldn’t help but trail her fingers over the sensitised skin causing Margery to squirm against the mattress and cry.
“Get me the serum that Qyburn brought down earlier; I want to see it in action.”
The guard nods and leaves Cersei for a moment, entering back with a silver tray that contains the red liquid serum. She smiles and orders him to put the serum in her mouth immediately. He does, and Cersei watches as the red liquid passes Margery’s lips, spilling slightly onto her chin.
The serum had been explicitly designed for Margery. Cersei’s hatred had only grown the more she looked at Margery’s face, so she wanted a way to sensitise her further. Qyburn had promised to create her a serum that would specifically target the soles of Margery's feet and sensitise them to the maximum.
Cersei was excited to explore this further, and could not wait to run her fingers over the sensitive flesh in soft trailing strokes.
Sometimes the softer strokes were the ones that caused the most brutal tickling sensations.
“Shall we test to see if it works?”
She laughs and softly brushes her nails down the centre of Margery’s foot.
Margery tenses on the bed, her toes curling as she cries out from the soft, ticklish sensation.
“I see the serum has already begun to take effect, look at these soles.”
She pokes at one, the sole becoming an increased pink shade with each passing second.
Cersei hadn’t questioned Qyburns abilities, she thought he was terrific, and he had never let her down before. If anything she just couldn’t wait any longer to use the serum, especially with Margery already so overstimulated.
“I bet these little feet can’t handle just a simple touch, can they?”
Cersei smiles at Margery and runs the tip of her finger slowly down the centre of her foot. Margery wiggles from the sensation, her lips turning back as the overwhelming ticklish feeling becomes too much.
Cersei smiles as Margery begins to heave against the bonds. Margery yells from the bed, the sound coming out in long torturous whimpers.
“No more, please.”
It wasn’t an unusual thing for Cersei to experience; it was just one of the many side effects of being tickled too much.
“Poor thing, this must be overbearing for you.”
Cersei’s lips turn up cruelly as she grabs a feather in each of her hands, and gently runs them up and down the centre of Margery’s pink feet.
Margery begins to tremble and laugh at the sensation, her whole body reacting to the ticklish sensation. Her stomach contracts as the feeling starts to grow more robust, and Cersei can’t help but slow her movements down, even more, enjoying the uncontrollable laughter coming from Margery’s parted lips.
“That’s right, Margery, feel the ticklish torture.”
Margery’s stomach contracts again, and she can’t help but cough and heave as her body heats up. The torture of being tickled was becoming too much for her.
“I can’t handle another minute.”
Cersei can make out the beads of sweat falling over Margery’s brow and smiles, ceasing her movements as a guard enters the cell.
“My Queen, we have captured another enemy for you.”
Cersei turns, her lips pouted as her eyes glisten beneath the torchlight.
“And who is it?”
The guard smiles at her,
“Aria Stark, My Queen.”
Cersei pauses, her brows raising in surprise.
She had wanted Aria captured from the moment the executioner cut off Ned Stark's head, but sadly she slipped past them and out of Cersei’s clutches all those years ago.
“How was she captured?”
She stands from her stool, rubbing her palms over the front of her dress and following the guard from within Margery’s cell.
“A guard caught her entering the dungeons through the sewage pipes.”
Cersei smiles, throwing her head back slightly as a laugh escapes her parted lips.
“And where is she now?”
The guard stops outside the very last cell, motioning with his hand for her to enter.
“She is in here for you, my Queen.”
Cersei nods, her eyes peering into the cell.
“Have a guard sit with Margery and continue her torture; I don’t want the serum she consumed to be a waste. Also, have that tray of items brought here immediately with the serum from Qyburn's cabinet, I want to take my time with this one.”
The guard bows and leaves and Cersei can’t help the excitement that courses through her.
She composes herself and pushes the door to the cell, spotting Aria bound and restrained on the bed. Cersei smiles at her, and can’t help the wicked laugh that escapes her as Aria glares at her.
“I have waited for this day for a very long time. I barely recognize you, last time I saw you you were just a girl, now look at you! A woman grown, but I’ll make you scream just like a girl anyway!”
Aria turns her head, refusing to look at the Queen, not that Cersei minded, she hated Aria down to her very core, and couldn’t wait to tickle her until she couldn’t breathe.
“It’s a shame that you won’t get back to the north, especially considering I heard that John is declaring himself King.”
Aria’s head snaps in her direction, her eyes wide.
“Oh, you didn’t know, well, he is now an enemy to the crown, and I can’t wait to use you to get to him.”
“He isn’t as stupid as you think.”
Her voice is like venom, and Cersei can’t help but shrug and sit at the bottom of the bed. She watches in amusement as Aria strains against the restraints, her feet moving uncontrollably in the ankle pillory. Her small pink toes wiggle uncontrollably, the high arches tensing as the bottoms of her feet become flushed.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, your ankles would become extremely tender in a matter of minutes.”
Aria huffs and ceases movement, turning her head to look at the damp stone wall.
“My Queen here are the items you requested.”
Cersei turns to the guard and points for him to settle them on the small table to her side. He nods, and she grapes his hand, placing the glass vile of serum into his palms.
“Pour this into her mouth for me.”
He nods and walks to Aria, his large hand gripping her mouth open forcefully and pouring its contents into her mouth. She watches as her mouth is clamped shut, her throat bobbing as she tries her best to refuse the serum. Of course, it slides down, disappearing into her system.
Cersei smiles at her, her fingers clenched in her lap as she notices the effects begin to take place.
Aria’s toes one by one twitch, the skin becoming a darker pink shade, indicating that the serum had sensitised them to the maximum.
“You may leave now guard; I will shout if I need assistance.”
The guard nods and exits the room, and Cersei can’t contain the impulse any longer.
Using the point of her nails, she gently scratches them over the centre of Aria’s feet, moving as soft and light as possible. Aria withers beneath her touch, her hands pulling at the restraints as her lips part and a giggle escapes.
“I see you’re feet are already susceptible to my torture.”
Aria glares, wiggling her toes as Cersei once more drags her nails over the base of Aria’s feet, the movements a little slower but harsher than before.
Aria bursts into another fit of giggles, the muscles of her body contracting as she wiggles her ankles against the pillory in protest. Cersei smiles and repeats the movement over and over, watching as Aria’s face becomes flushed.
Aria’s skin is slick with sweat, and she tries everything in her power to stop herself from giving in to the torture, but its no use, with each stroke of Cersei’s fingers against her feet, a sensation so intense overwhelms her, and she has to laugh.
Aria can feel her stomach tighten as she tenses it, her movements becoming difficult as her body gives way to the overwhelming sensation of tickling. She laughs and laughs, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes slowly begin to water.
Cersei watches in delight as the first bead falls, glistening beneath the candlelight as it runs down from Aria’s eye and onto her cheek. She had hardly tickled her for longer than a few minutes, and she was already coming undone beneath her touch.
Cersei couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Aria after hours of this continuous torture.
“I see this serum has already proved efficient; I will have to have Qyburn make me some more.”
Aria clenches her jaw and growls at the Queen, her wrists pulling at the restraints that hold her down to the bed with a wild strength.
Laughing cries howl from the distant hallway, and Cersei’s mouth twitches as Aria stares out beyond the door. She was probably wondering what the hell was going on in this place, a question she often got from her new prisoners.
“When I get out of here I will kill you, for this and everything else you have done.”
Aria’s voice is low, the tone dripping with venom as she looks at Cersei with pure hatred.
If the guards hadn’t restrained Aria, Cersei would be scared; however, she knew that Aria would be no trouble to her anymore. Aria was now where she belonged, and would be until Cersei grew bored of her pathetic cries and had her locked away and tickled for eternity.
“Hmm, I think we should try a different ticklish device, don’t you?”
Aria growls but falls to the bed, her eyes closing as she stares at the wall at her side.
Cersei takes a single feather in each of her hands and places them to the tips of Aria’s toes. Aria had poorly groomed nails, and Cersei made a note to have her feet cleaned and prepared thoroughly before her next ticklish torture.
With a cruel smile, Cersei traces the tip of the feathers slowly down the centre of Aria’s feet. They dip as the feathers softly curve over the arch and settle against the hardened sole. From that one movement, Aria howls, her body unable to control her laughter.
It seemed that the arches of Aria’s feet were the most sensitive, so that is where Cersei would focus most of her torture.
Aria’s big toes twitches and Cersei places the feather over it, tickling it over and around the flushed skin. Aria’s big toe’s wiggle and Cersei can’t help but smile, just as Aria bites at her lip, pleading with herself not to give in.
But as Cersei continues the motion, focusing her ticklish torture on the large toe and sensitive arches Aria breaks, her strength fading as she begins to giggle uncontrollably.
It starts as a hushed giggle, coming out every couple of seconds, however as the torture continues the giggle becomes more fierce and stretched out until they are unstoppable, the giggle turning into a burst of loud, bellowing laughter.
Ari’s body twists and turns violently, every piece of her giving way to the torture that she was enduring. How could anyone survive this brutal torture? The soles of her feet felt as if they were burning, the tickling increasing the sensitivity beyond words.
It was a brutal way to punish an enemy.
“That’s right Aria Stark, give way to my ticklish torture.”
Aria weeps as it becomes too much, her tears spilling from her eyes and soaking her face.
Who else was here in this dungeon? Who else was sentenced to a lifetime of Cersei’s ticklish torture? How had they survived so long? Aria wanted to ask them all these questions, know what she had to do to survive this living hell.
Cersei halts her movements for a moment, allowing Aria’s body to relax to catch her breath. She settles the feathers down.
Cersei turns to her tray of tools and takes a jar of sweet sticky honey. She takes off the lid and takes a bristled brush, dipping the ends into the pot and removing it.
Honey falls from the bristles, and Cersei smiles, bringing the brush to the arches of Aria’s feet and slowly covering them in a layer of the substance. She repeats the action to the opposite foot, and Aria frowns, her eyes still clouded with tears.
“What are you doing?”
Cersei smiles and places the jar and brush to the side, standing from her seated position and moving the stool out of the way.
“Guards, bring in the hounds.”
Aria’s eyes widen, and she can’t help the pleading cry that leaves her lips as she attempts to pull her sore ankles from the wooden pillory. She screams but doesn’t stop, not even as the two massive beasts are brought into her cell and pointed to the soles of her feet.
“Please no, I beg of you.”
Cersei smiles and nods at the guard who lets the dogs begin to lick at the honey on Aria’s high arched feet. Her toes curl back, and she screams in laughter, her chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as her hands clenched into fists at her side.
The dogs lick rapidly at her feet, and she can’t help but squirm, the sensation completely different from Cersei’s previous torture. This torture was worse, so much worse.
The dogs lapped at her feet, their tongues picking up every bit of the sweet honey. Their tongues were rough, but not too harsh. The sensation combined with the rapid friction had Aria’s stomach stitching with uncontrollable laughter.
“I can’t do this anymore, please.”
Her words come out in stammers, her eyes clenching shut as her legs wither from the discomfort. Cersei just watches with a smile, and orders the guard to apply more honey to her feet. The dogs do crazy as fresh, sticky honey runs over the soles, their tongues quickly darting out to lap at the sweet liquid.
Aria cries as their tongues tickle her feet, the roughness of their tongues increasing the ticklish sensation more than before. She screams, pleading with the Queen, but Cersei just laughs, watching Aria wither and shake in intensified horror.
“I think I will leave you in the hands of my guard and his hounds.”
Aria pleads to Cersei as she walks from the cell, her cries following her out into the hallways as the dogs continue to lick at the soles of her feet. Cersei couldn't help but smile as the door to Aria’s cell shut behind her, and even with the sizable thick door locked tightly, Cersei could still hear Aria’s cries.
She makes her way down the stone hallway, the pitiful cries of her enemies following her as she smiled. She entered the large central chamber and smiled as the three female sand snakes were each being hung by their wrists from the ceilings, all facing each other.
Cersei watched as their ankles were locked into the large wooden pillories below, the feet now entirely at the mercy of the torturous tickling.
“I see the guards have prepared you three nicely. Have the tray brought out.”
One of the guards leaves and Cersei smiles, walking to the centre of the three hanging ladies. They all hiss at her, their faces filled with hatred as Cersei looks at each of them individually.
Obara, Tyene and Nymeria each have their feet angled so that Cersei can look at them without the need to bend her back, and she can’t help but admire the deep flushed red of their soles.
She watches as each of them individually twitches their toes.
“I have looked forward to this for a while. how long has it been since we were all together?”
Obara spits and Cersei laughs as it lands at her feet. Ellaria screams from her cell just down the hall, her hands gripping the metal bars as she looks out at her daughters.
“Make sure she is forced to watch everything.”
A guard nods and walks to where Ellaria howls and screams. The door clatters, and Cersei can’t help but smile as the girls all look back at their mother, their eyes glossing over as the guard holds her in place, watching them.
A tray is once again settled beside Cersei, and she waves away the guard, taking a small bottle of oil from the tray.
“I think that we will start with you Obara, considering you’ve been so vocal.”
She hisses as Cersei runs the pad of her fingers along the sole of her foot. Obara whimpers but clamps her mouth shut, glaring down at Cersei with hatred as she slowly tips oil onto her palm. She rubs it onto the tips of her fingers and begins to massage it over her feet, ensuring the tips of her nails scratch at the flushed pink skin.
Obara’s feet switch with each movement, and Cersei can’t contain her laugh.
“I can feel your sensitivity, and I’ve hardly done anything.”
She shakes her head but looks up at her sisters, her teeth cutting harshly into her lip as she pulls at the wrist restraints attached to the ceiling.
Cersei leans and grabs two feathers, turning them so that she can use the hard tip of the feather instead of the softer, more delicate part.
“The guards have told me you’ve responded well to this.”
Slowly Cersei presses the points of the feather tips to the centre of Obara’s high arches and gently scratches them back and forth. She smiles as she squirms from above, her teeth biting at her lip as she tries to contain the laughter.
“How about we trail it a little...lower.”
She traces the feathers lower, and Obara screams, her laughter coming out as Cersei reaches the most sensitive point of her feet.
Obara’s point was located at the centre of the foot base, in line with her third toe, a sensitive but delicate point for a lot of people.
“I see my guards were correct about this spot.”
Obara withers and pleads with Cersei gently tickles that point with the end of the feather, taking her time in brushing it back and forth in soft strokes.
Tyene and Nymeria watch in horror as their sister shakes from the restraints, her toes wriggling rapidly as Cersei sits and tortures her.
Who would have thought Cersei was fond of tickling? They certainly hadn’t so when they were captured in her own personal tickle prison to live out the rest of their lives as her toys, they were beyond surprised.
None of them had imagined that tickling could provide so much torture.
Obara laughs and laughs, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath through the torment. However, she knows that the suffering won’t stop, not until she admitted defeat, which Cersei knew Obara would never do.
“All you have to do is tell me I’ve won, then the tickling will stop.”
Obara screams and shows her teeth to Cersei, her glare a promise to rip her throat out if she ever got the chance. This only made Cersei more determined.
She stops for a moment and places the feathers down, deciding to use the tip of her nails for a delicate tickling. Instead of focusing on just one spot, Cersei traces her nails up and down the entirety of Obara’s foot, ensuring her nails dip and glide into each crevice.
Obara shakes, tears beginning to form in her eyes as her laughter completely consumes her.
She becomes light-headed, her body not taking in enough breath if she didn’t say something she would most likely pass out. But as she stared down at the Queen with hazy vision, no words came out. Instead, she continued to take the torture until she passed out.
Cersei laughs as the two sisters scream for their slumped sister, her body sagging in the restraints. Cersei removes her hands from her feet and shakes her head, turning to look at Tyene.
“Shall we get started?”
Tyene shakes her head, but Cersei takes no notice as she rolls her stool closer and takes her feet in her hands. She looks at the flushed bottoms and smiles. Tyene only had low arches, and her toes were quite delicate, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any sensation. If anything Tyene was the sister with the most sensitivity in her feet, and that’s precisely why Cersei decided to use her next.
She takes her feathers once more and at the same time brushes the soft side over the centre of Tyene’s low arches, watching in satisfaction as her toes wiggle uncontrollably.
“Out of all three, you have always had susceptible feet.”
Ellaria whimpers from down the hallway as she watches her daughters, her tears falling onto the stone floor as the guard holds her in place.
“You will get your turn eventually, Ellaria, now be quiet.”
Tyene giggles slightly as Cersei runs the feather softly over the bottoms of her toes, her cheeks flushing as she quickly bites her lip. But that one giggle was all Cersei needed. She takes her feathers and back and forth runs them across her toes, barely touching them. They skim across skin and Tyene spits, still trying to contain her laughter as the tips of her toes become pink.
Cersei moves the feather down just an inch so it’s hitting both Tyene’s toes and the top of the foot base and Tyene can’t help herself. Straight away she gives in to the sensation, her body curling as she begins to howl with laughter.
Cersei smiles in accomplishment and continues to slow her movements, enjoying the sigh of Tyene’s tears falling from her eyes.
Tyene’s stomach burns with the uncontrollable need to laugh, her breath coming in hard and fast as she sucks it in between screams of uncontrollable laughter. Her whole body shivers with the ticklish sensation, the feather only crazing the skin, but still providing her with so much ticklish stimulation.
“I can’t hold out.”
She turns to her sister and throws her head back, her abdomen tensing as the laughter consumes her entirely.
“Like I said to Obara, all you have to do is say I’ve won.”
Tyene shakes her head, refusing to look at the Queen. Her tears fall slowly down her cheeks and onto her chest. Her hands clench above her as she shivers, her ankles twitching as Cersei changes tactics and begins to scrape her nails delicately over the arches of her feet.
“Say it Tyene, Or suffer like poor Obara.”
Cersei smiles as she looks at the sensitive feet, the exposed flesh becoming pinker with each tortuous stroke of her nails.
From a distance, a cry catches Cersei’s attention, and she smiles. The cry was Aria’s that much she could tell, and it brought her a lot of joy to still hear her howling cries of laughter, even after she had left.
“The laughing cries of my prisoners is delightful, wouldn’t you agree Tyene.”
She doesn’t answer which causes Cersei to begin scratching at her low foot arches again, her nails scratching soft, delicate strokes into the tender pink flesh.
Tyene howls in a burst of uncontrollable laughter, her stomach tensing once more as she fights to hold back her uncontrollable laughter. It, however, is no use, she ends laughing herself to the point of passing out, and Cersei can’t help but huff at the woman who now sagged, her breathing becoming softer as Cersei rolls herself back.
“Well, I suppose I have one of you left.”
She smiles cruelly and looks to the last remaining sand snake with a bitter stare.
She rolls her stool closer to Nymeria, and she can’t help but revel in the slight flinch of her enemies body as she nears. She moves her tray beside her and dusts her hand across her tools, her eyes scanning for the perfect one.
“I’ve heard that your large feet take a little more work, but it seems they are already tender and pink...how about we use this.”
Cersei holds up her wooden hairbrush with a smile, and Nymeria shakes her head. Cersei knew that a hairbrush against the base and arches of Nymeria’s feet was a weakness for her, it always had her begging for mercy, which was one of Cersei’s favourite sounds.
“Will you follow the same footsteps of your sisters, or will you be smart and give in?”
Nymeria hisses at the Queen and Cersei takes it as her answer.
“I suppose we will do this the hard way.”
Slowly she inches the hairbrush closer to the sole of the food, settling the bristles harshly against the skin Nymeria trembles but keeps quiet, her lip pulled back severely as she stares at the wall ahead.
Could she survive this? Probably not, she would most likely end up like her sisters; however, she would not give in to the Queen, that she was sure of.
Cersei takes her time in delicately moving the brush over the foot, allowing it to dip into the high arch and trace roughly against her skin. She knew Nymeria’s feet reacted more to rougher touches, that is why she wasn’t holding back.
The bristles crinkle against Nymeria’s feet, and Cersei can just about make out a small twitch in her toes. It would take some time, but soon she would be howling with uncontrollable laughter.
Cersei looks up at Nymeria, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly as she roughly trails the brush up to the base of her foot, slowly but forcefully dragging it back and forth across the skin. Nymeria’s long slender toes begin to twitch, her body reacting to the touch.
These small movements were all the motivation that Cersei needed.
She takes a second brush in her free hands and applies it to the second foot, smiling as she begins the same rough torture to the foot’s base. Nymeria hisses and wiggles from above and Cersei can tell that she is so close to breaking.
“Give in, Nymeria, let your mother see how weak you are.”
Nymeria huffs but can feel herself being consumed by the tortuous sensation.
Nymeria’s eyes cloud over with tears, the water slowly begins to fall from the pools in the corners of her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
Cersei smiles and Nymeria breaks.
The brushes drift up the slightest bit, catching the bottoms of each of her toes and Nymeria buckles, her chest contracting as she screams out in a fit of agonising laughter.
Nymeria’s body heaves, and Cersei can’t help but smile wickedly over at a weeping Ellaria.
“I will give it to them, they are strong, but not strong enough.”
Cersei presses with a little more force and Nymeria whimpers, coughing violently in between laughs. How could laughing cause so much torture? Her throat was already on fire, and her stomach was burning from its constant contracting.
“Please no more.”
Cersei smiles but continues, the bristles scratching the sensitive skin with just enough pressure to have Nymeria bursting into another laughing fit.
“Tell me I’ve won Nymeria, then you won’t have the same fate as your sisters.”
Across from her Obara, stirs and Nymeria can’t help but close her eyes and weep. How could her sisters put themselves through so much torture? She didn’t know if she could last another second.
“I...please.”
Cersei laughs and removes the brushes from Nymeria’s feet, softly settling them down on the tray to grab an oil that Qyburn had gifted to her just a few days prior.
She takes the oil into her palm and soothes it over the bottoms of Nymeria’s feet, ensuring to get it in between the toes and crevices. Nymeria watches her with a frightful stare, her toes twitching as Cersei glides a nail across her foot arch.
“This oil isn’t like any other...It was made for me for this exact purpose. I suppose I should tell you what it does.”
Cersei stands and walks across to a small basin of water, quickly and efficiently washing her hands. She had to get it from her hands before it started to take effect on her.
“This oil is infused with a specific serum that sensitised the feet; however, it was modified so that I don’t have to touch you to make you laugh; instead the oil will create a pinching and tickling sensation, allowing me to stand back and watch you come undone.”
A guard hands Cersei a towel to wipe her hands, and Cersei smiles, looking to Nymeria who was already becoming flushed.
“I have a lot of beautiful things being created for this very purpose, so never think that I won’t have something new to try.”
Nymeria’s toes begin to twitch as the oil takes effect and Cersei takes a seat on the throne she had pleased in the chamber for this very reason. She wanted to be powerful whilst watching her enemies wither in uncontrollable laughter.
Nymeria swallows as she begins to feel the prickling in her feet, the oil taking effect almost instantly. The sensation causes her to wince as her feet become even more sensitised from before. How could someone create such things?
Nymeria begins to giggle, her ankles and toes twitching uncontrollably as she throws back her head and howls. Her whole body withers as she gives in to the sensation, her chest heaving uncontrollably as she pulls forcefully at the restraints.
It doesn’t take long for her to start becoming fuzzy, her lungs not taking in enough air between outbursts of laughter. She becomes hazy, and before she knows it, she too passes out from the uncontrollable laughter.
Cersei smiles and begins to clap, her body overcome with joy.
“Well, that was certainly a lot of fun, wouldn’t you agree with me, Ellaria?”
The guards pull Elaria’s weeping body to the foot of the throne, pushing her to her knees and forcing her head back. Cersei smiles, sitting herself up so that she can look into the eyes of the weeping mother.
She took a lot of joy from Ellaria’s pain, considering she was the one that killed her daughter, it brought her triumph to watch her suffer as she had.
“Now, don’t think I forgot about you, no, I have something particularly special planned for you.”
Ellaria growls and is forcefully turned to look at her daughters, each of them sagging and unconscious. Cersei smiles and ushers the guards to bind her in the centre, surrounded by her daughters.
“You see, I have this device that I think would work wonderfully for you.”
Ellaria fights as the Guards bind her wrists in the metal cuffs and hand her from the central hook in the ceiling. Her legs kick furiously, but the guards handle her, forcing her legs into a wooden pillory below.
“Apply the same oil I used on Nymeria and have the device brought in.”
The guard’s nod and Cersei smiles. A guard begins to apply the oil to Ellarie’s feet, ensuring it was smothered across every surface of her feet. The large wooden device is hauled in and settled beneath her feet.
Cersei admits she is proud of this creation, it was one of Qyburn's greatest.
“You see the rope, well once it’s given to me, I will be able to control the movement of the bristles and feathers located just below your feet.”
Ellaria looks down and growls, spitting at the machine.
“That won’t save you.”
Cersei smiles and pulls the rope, pulling the machine into action. The clogs move with a clank, and the bristles and feather move on the circular wheel, spinning anti-clockwise.
The bristles and feathers brush Ellaria’s feet, and she whimpers, the oil already beginning to take effect against her sensitive flesh.
.
“You see Ellaria, your daughters were just the beginning.”
— TO BE CONTINUED —
Ash is a pleasure to work with! She provided a shared google doc that allowed me to follow along as she wrote and to make comments and request modifications during the writing process, making this one of the most enjoyable commission gigs I have placed to date! She is currently writing part 2.
Ash can be contacted for commissions on Fiverr, under the profile name abrown_. The link to her gig is here..
By Ash Brown, commissioned by Warden Keller
No one knew of Cersi’s secret obsession; neither did they know that her dungeon of torture lay deep beneath the red keep.
She had a set of guards located around its location. If anyone were to stumble across it they had orders to execute on sight unless it was one of her many female enemies, then they were captured, locked away and prepared for the many hours of brutal foot torture she had designed.
She didn’t know what it was, but torturing the feet of her enemies had become a secret pleasure of hers over the years. She found it amusing to watch them squeal and scream as the soles of their feet were overstimulated.
She loved the way their bodies tenses as the skin became sore and raw with the repeated stimulation. It was her favourite way of getting back at her enemies, a present to them from her.
As she walks down the large, stone spiralling staircase, she can’t help but pick out the cries and plea’s of her captives and the sound is thrilling to her ears.
Could there be anything better?
Well, there was a specific enemy that she would love to have tied down and tortured, and it was none other than the Dragon Riding Bitch Queen, Daenerys Targaryen.
It would bring her extreme pleasure and satisfaction to have that white-haired slut tied down and repeatedly tortured until she could no longer scream.
Indeed that fantasy probably wouldn’t arise until further down the line. Still, until the opportunity arrives, she would have to find pleasure in her current captives and hope that her many enemies came knocking on the door.
A guard opens the large door to the torture chamber, and she smiles, stepping in to look at the delightful scenes. She had captives in cages, captives in cells and her favourite was when she had a prisoner hanging from the ceiling by their wrists, a specially designed foot torture machine providing an overbearing stimulation to their over sensitised toes beneath.
It was a simple design. The user was bound from above so that their bodies hung from a hook suspension in the ceiling. Then their feet were then locked in a wooden foot pillory. Below the pillory was a contraption made by Qyburn. It was hundreds of feathers tied together which moved backwards and forwards when the wheel to the side was turned.
Cersei had no clue how it worked; all she knew is that it got the job done wonderfully. A guard was regularly stationed at the wheel, their orders to turn the wheel frequently until told otherwise.
She smiles as she witnesses Margery Tyrell hanging by her wrists; her body stripped bare of clothing as the machine scrapes backwards and forwards at a relatively quickened speed. Her feet are red and raw, her throat sore as she barely musters whimpers of extreme agony.
“I see the machine has done me well once more.”
Margery pulls her head up and spits at the Queen’s feet, her body slick with sweat as she curses the Queen beneath her strangled breath.
Her feet were on fire from the continuous tickling, her whole body crying to give up, but of course, the cruel Queen Cersei would never allow her to rest. She had waited patiently for her opportunity, and blowing up the sept was just her way of getting Margery in her clutches.
“You can stop the wheel for now.”
Cersei walks to Margery and smiles.
“Guards would you mind taking her over to her cell and lock her to her bed. I want her ankles locked in a pillory as well.”
They nod and begin to untie Margery, and Cersei can’t help but smile as she falls limp in the guard’s arms. She watches as they drag her body along, and her eyes focus on the sensitive bottoms of Margery's tortured feet. They were red from continuous use of the gadget, and Cersei couldn’t wait to explore the sensitivity of the fragile skin further.
Cersei follows and sits at the chair situated next to the pillory. Of course, she could have her guards perform all of her torturous ticklings, but what would be the fun in that. No, Cersei loved to get a hands-on approach.
Once Margery’s feet were locked into place, Cersei couldn’t help but trail her fingers over the sensitised skin causing Margery to squirm against the mattress and cry.
“Get me the serum that Qyburn brought down earlier; I want to see it in action.”
The guard nods and leaves Cersei for a moment, entering back with a silver tray that contains the red liquid serum. She smiles and orders him to put the serum in her mouth immediately. He does, and Cersei watches as the red liquid passes Margery’s lips, spilling slightly onto her chin.
The serum had been explicitly designed for Margery. Cersei’s hatred had only grown the more she looked at Margery’s face, so she wanted a way to sensitise her further. Qyburn had promised to create her a serum that would specifically target the soles of Margery's feet and sensitise them to the maximum.
Cersei was excited to explore this further, and could not wait to run her fingers over the sensitive flesh in soft trailing strokes.
Sometimes the softer strokes were the ones that caused the most brutal tickling sensations.
“Shall we test to see if it works?”
She laughs and softly brushes her nails down the centre of Margery’s foot.
Margery tenses on the bed, her toes curling as she cries out from the soft, ticklish sensation.
“I see the serum has already begun to take effect, look at these soles.”
She pokes at one, the sole becoming an increased pink shade with each passing second.
Cersei hadn’t questioned Qyburns abilities, she thought he was terrific, and he had never let her down before. If anything she just couldn’t wait any longer to use the serum, especially with Margery already so overstimulated.
“I bet these little feet can’t handle just a simple touch, can they?”
Cersei smiles at Margery and runs the tip of her finger slowly down the centre of her foot. Margery wiggles from the sensation, her lips turning back as the overwhelming ticklish feeling becomes too much.
Cersei smiles as Margery begins to heave against the bonds. Margery yells from the bed, the sound coming out in long torturous whimpers.
“No more, please.”
It wasn’t an unusual thing for Cersei to experience; it was just one of the many side effects of being tickled too much.
“Poor thing, this must be overbearing for you.”
Cersei’s lips turn up cruelly as she grabs a feather in each of her hands, and gently runs them up and down the centre of Margery’s pink feet.
Margery begins to tremble and laugh at the sensation, her whole body reacting to the ticklish sensation. Her stomach contracts as the feeling starts to grow more robust, and Cersei can’t help but slow her movements down, even more, enjoying the uncontrollable laughter coming from Margery’s parted lips.
“That’s right, Margery, feel the ticklish torture.”
Margery’s stomach contracts again, and she can’t help but cough and heave as her body heats up. The torture of being tickled was becoming too much for her.
“I can’t handle another minute.”
Cersei can make out the beads of sweat falling over Margery’s brow and smiles, ceasing her movements as a guard enters the cell.
“My Queen, we have captured another enemy for you.”
Cersei turns, her lips pouted as her eyes glisten beneath the torchlight.
“And who is it?”
The guard smiles at her,
“Aria Stark, My Queen.”
Cersei pauses, her brows raising in surprise.
She had wanted Aria captured from the moment the executioner cut off Ned Stark's head, but sadly she slipped past them and out of Cersei’s clutches all those years ago.
“How was she captured?”
She stands from her stool, rubbing her palms over the front of her dress and following the guard from within Margery’s cell.
“A guard caught her entering the dungeons through the sewage pipes.”
Cersei smiles, throwing her head back slightly as a laugh escapes her parted lips.
“And where is she now?”
The guard stops outside the very last cell, motioning with his hand for her to enter.
“She is in here for you, my Queen.”
Cersei nods, her eyes peering into the cell.
“Have a guard sit with Margery and continue her torture; I don’t want the serum she consumed to be a waste. Also, have that tray of items brought here immediately with the serum from Qyburn's cabinet, I want to take my time with this one.”
The guard bows and leaves and Cersei can’t help the excitement that courses through her.
She composes herself and pushes the door to the cell, spotting Aria bound and restrained on the bed. Cersei smiles at her, and can’t help the wicked laugh that escapes her as Aria glares at her.
“I have waited for this day for a very long time. I barely recognize you, last time I saw you you were just a girl, now look at you! A woman grown, but I’ll make you scream just like a girl anyway!”
Aria turns her head, refusing to look at the Queen, not that Cersei minded, she hated Aria down to her very core, and couldn’t wait to tickle her until she couldn’t breathe.
“It’s a shame that you won’t get back to the north, especially considering I heard that John is declaring himself King.”
Aria’s head snaps in her direction, her eyes wide.
“Oh, you didn’t know, well, he is now an enemy to the crown, and I can’t wait to use you to get to him.”
“He isn’t as stupid as you think.”
Her voice is like venom, and Cersei can’t help but shrug and sit at the bottom of the bed. She watches in amusement as Aria strains against the restraints, her feet moving uncontrollably in the ankle pillory. Her small pink toes wiggle uncontrollably, the high arches tensing as the bottoms of her feet become flushed.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, your ankles would become extremely tender in a matter of minutes.”
Aria huffs and ceases movement, turning her head to look at the damp stone wall.
“My Queen here are the items you requested.”
Cersei turns to the guard and points for him to settle them on the small table to her side. He nods, and she grapes his hand, placing the glass vile of serum into his palms.
“Pour this into her mouth for me.”
He nods and walks to Aria, his large hand gripping her mouth open forcefully and pouring its contents into her mouth. She watches as her mouth is clamped shut, her throat bobbing as she tries her best to refuse the serum. Of course, it slides down, disappearing into her system.
Cersei smiles at her, her fingers clenched in her lap as she notices the effects begin to take place.
Aria’s toes one by one twitch, the skin becoming a darker pink shade, indicating that the serum had sensitised them to the maximum.
“You may leave now guard; I will shout if I need assistance.”
The guard nods and exits the room, and Cersei can’t contain the impulse any longer.
Using the point of her nails, she gently scratches them over the centre of Aria’s feet, moving as soft and light as possible. Aria withers beneath her touch, her hands pulling at the restraints as her lips part and a giggle escapes.
“I see you’re feet are already susceptible to my torture.”
Aria glares, wiggling her toes as Cersei once more drags her nails over the base of Aria’s feet, the movements a little slower but harsher than before.
Aria bursts into another fit of giggles, the muscles of her body contracting as she wiggles her ankles against the pillory in protest. Cersei smiles and repeats the movement over and over, watching as Aria’s face becomes flushed.
Aria’s skin is slick with sweat, and she tries everything in her power to stop herself from giving in to the torture, but its no use, with each stroke of Cersei’s fingers against her feet, a sensation so intense overwhelms her, and she has to laugh.
Aria can feel her stomach tighten as she tenses it, her movements becoming difficult as her body gives way to the overwhelming sensation of tickling. She laughs and laughs, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes slowly begin to water.
Cersei watches in delight as the first bead falls, glistening beneath the candlelight as it runs down from Aria’s eye and onto her cheek. She had hardly tickled her for longer than a few minutes, and she was already coming undone beneath her touch.
Cersei couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to Aria after hours of this continuous torture.
“I see this serum has already proved efficient; I will have to have Qyburn make me some more.”
Aria clenches her jaw and growls at the Queen, her wrists pulling at the restraints that hold her down to the bed with a wild strength.
Laughing cries howl from the distant hallway, and Cersei’s mouth twitches as Aria stares out beyond the door. She was probably wondering what the hell was going on in this place, a question she often got from her new prisoners.
“When I get out of here I will kill you, for this and everything else you have done.”
Aria’s voice is low, the tone dripping with venom as she looks at Cersei with pure hatred.
If the guards hadn’t restrained Aria, Cersei would be scared; however, she knew that Aria would be no trouble to her anymore. Aria was now where she belonged, and would be until Cersei grew bored of her pathetic cries and had her locked away and tickled for eternity.
“Hmm, I think we should try a different ticklish device, don’t you?”
Aria growls but falls to the bed, her eyes closing as she stares at the wall at her side.
Cersei takes a single feather in each of her hands and places them to the tips of Aria’s toes. Aria had poorly groomed nails, and Cersei made a note to have her feet cleaned and prepared thoroughly before her next ticklish torture.
With a cruel smile, Cersei traces the tip of the feathers slowly down the centre of Aria’s feet. They dip as the feathers softly curve over the arch and settle against the hardened sole. From that one movement, Aria howls, her body unable to control her laughter.
It seemed that the arches of Aria’s feet were the most sensitive, so that is where Cersei would focus most of her torture.
Aria’s big toes twitches and Cersei places the feather over it, tickling it over and around the flushed skin. Aria’s big toe’s wiggle and Cersei can’t help but smile, just as Aria bites at her lip, pleading with herself not to give in.
But as Cersei continues the motion, focusing her ticklish torture on the large toe and sensitive arches Aria breaks, her strength fading as she begins to giggle uncontrollably.
It starts as a hushed giggle, coming out every couple of seconds, however as the torture continues the giggle becomes more fierce and stretched out until they are unstoppable, the giggle turning into a burst of loud, bellowing laughter.
Ari’s body twists and turns violently, every piece of her giving way to the torture that she was enduring. How could anyone survive this brutal torture? The soles of her feet felt as if they were burning, the tickling increasing the sensitivity beyond words.
It was a brutal way to punish an enemy.
“That’s right Aria Stark, give way to my ticklish torture.”
Aria weeps as it becomes too much, her tears spilling from her eyes and soaking her face.
Who else was here in this dungeon? Who else was sentenced to a lifetime of Cersei’s ticklish torture? How had they survived so long? Aria wanted to ask them all these questions, know what she had to do to survive this living hell.
Cersei halts her movements for a moment, allowing Aria’s body to relax to catch her breath. She settles the feathers down.
Cersei turns to her tray of tools and takes a jar of sweet sticky honey. She takes off the lid and takes a bristled brush, dipping the ends into the pot and removing it.
Honey falls from the bristles, and Cersei smiles, bringing the brush to the arches of Aria’s feet and slowly covering them in a layer of the substance. She repeats the action to the opposite foot, and Aria frowns, her eyes still clouded with tears.
“What are you doing?”
Cersei smiles and places the jar and brush to the side, standing from her seated position and moving the stool out of the way.
“Guards, bring in the hounds.”
Aria’s eyes widen, and she can’t help the pleading cry that leaves her lips as she attempts to pull her sore ankles from the wooden pillory. She screams but doesn’t stop, not even as the two massive beasts are brought into her cell and pointed to the soles of her feet.
“Please no, I beg of you.”
Cersei smiles and nods at the guard who lets the dogs begin to lick at the honey on Aria’s high arched feet. Her toes curl back, and she screams in laughter, her chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as her hands clenched into fists at her side.
The dogs lick rapidly at her feet, and she can’t help but squirm, the sensation completely different from Cersei’s previous torture. This torture was worse, so much worse.
The dogs lapped at her feet, their tongues picking up every bit of the sweet honey. Their tongues were rough, but not too harsh. The sensation combined with the rapid friction had Aria’s stomach stitching with uncontrollable laughter.
“I can’t do this anymore, please.”
Her words come out in stammers, her eyes clenching shut as her legs wither from the discomfort. Cersei just watches with a smile, and orders the guard to apply more honey to her feet. The dogs do crazy as fresh, sticky honey runs over the soles, their tongues quickly darting out to lap at the sweet liquid.
Aria cries as their tongues tickle her feet, the roughness of their tongues increasing the ticklish sensation more than before. She screams, pleading with the Queen, but Cersei just laughs, watching Aria wither and shake in intensified horror.
“I think I will leave you in the hands of my guard and his hounds.”
Aria pleads to Cersei as she walks from the cell, her cries following her out into the hallways as the dogs continue to lick at the soles of her feet. Cersei couldn't help but smile as the door to Aria’s cell shut behind her, and even with the sizable thick door locked tightly, Cersei could still hear Aria’s cries.
She makes her way down the stone hallway, the pitiful cries of her enemies following her as she smiled. She entered the large central chamber and smiled as the three female sand snakes were each being hung by their wrists from the ceilings, all facing each other.
Cersei watched as their ankles were locked into the large wooden pillories below, the feet now entirely at the mercy of the torturous tickling.
“I see the guards have prepared you three nicely. Have the tray brought out.”
One of the guards leaves and Cersei smiles, walking to the centre of the three hanging ladies. They all hiss at her, their faces filled with hatred as Cersei looks at each of them individually.
Obara, Tyene and Nymeria each have their feet angled so that Cersei can look at them without the need to bend her back, and she can’t help but admire the deep flushed red of their soles.
She watches as each of them individually twitches their toes.
“I have looked forward to this for a while. how long has it been since we were all together?”
Obara spits and Cersei laughs as it lands at her feet. Ellaria screams from her cell just down the hall, her hands gripping the metal bars as she looks out at her daughters.
“Make sure she is forced to watch everything.”
A guard nods and walks to where Ellaria howls and screams. The door clatters, and Cersei can’t help but smile as the girls all look back at their mother, their eyes glossing over as the guard holds her in place, watching them.
A tray is once again settled beside Cersei, and she waves away the guard, taking a small bottle of oil from the tray.
“I think that we will start with you Obara, considering you’ve been so vocal.”
She hisses as Cersei runs the pad of her fingers along the sole of her foot. Obara whimpers but clamps her mouth shut, glaring down at Cersei with hatred as she slowly tips oil onto her palm. She rubs it onto the tips of her fingers and begins to massage it over her feet, ensuring the tips of her nails scratch at the flushed pink skin.
Obara’s feet switch with each movement, and Cersei can’t contain her laugh.
“I can feel your sensitivity, and I’ve hardly done anything.”
She shakes her head but looks up at her sisters, her teeth cutting harshly into her lip as she pulls at the wrist restraints attached to the ceiling.
Cersei leans and grabs two feathers, turning them so that she can use the hard tip of the feather instead of the softer, more delicate part.
“The guards have told me you’ve responded well to this.”
Slowly Cersei presses the points of the feather tips to the centre of Obara’s high arches and gently scratches them back and forth. She smiles as she squirms from above, her teeth biting at her lip as she tries to contain the laughter.
“How about we trail it a little...lower.”
She traces the feathers lower, and Obara screams, her laughter coming out as Cersei reaches the most sensitive point of her feet.
Obara’s point was located at the centre of the foot base, in line with her third toe, a sensitive but delicate point for a lot of people.
“I see my guards were correct about this spot.”
Obara withers and pleads with Cersei gently tickles that point with the end of the feather, taking her time in brushing it back and forth in soft strokes.
Tyene and Nymeria watch in horror as their sister shakes from the restraints, her toes wriggling rapidly as Cersei sits and tortures her.
Who would have thought Cersei was fond of tickling? They certainly hadn’t so when they were captured in her own personal tickle prison to live out the rest of their lives as her toys, they were beyond surprised.
None of them had imagined that tickling could provide so much torture.
Obara laughs and laughs, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath through the torment. However, she knows that the suffering won’t stop, not until she admitted defeat, which Cersei knew Obara would never do.
“All you have to do is tell me I’ve won, then the tickling will stop.”
Obara screams and shows her teeth to Cersei, her glare a promise to rip her throat out if she ever got the chance. This only made Cersei more determined.
She stops for a moment and places the feathers down, deciding to use the tip of her nails for a delicate tickling. Instead of focusing on just one spot, Cersei traces her nails up and down the entirety of Obara’s foot, ensuring her nails dip and glide into each crevice.
Obara shakes, tears beginning to form in her eyes as her laughter completely consumes her.
She becomes light-headed, her body not taking in enough breath if she didn’t say something she would most likely pass out. But as she stared down at the Queen with hazy vision, no words came out. Instead, she continued to take the torture until she passed out.
Cersei laughs as the two sisters scream for their slumped sister, her body sagging in the restraints. Cersei removes her hands from her feet and shakes her head, turning to look at Tyene.
“Shall we get started?”
Tyene shakes her head, but Cersei takes no notice as she rolls her stool closer and takes her feet in her hands. She looks at the flushed bottoms and smiles. Tyene only had low arches, and her toes were quite delicate, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have any sensation. If anything Tyene was the sister with the most sensitivity in her feet, and that’s precisely why Cersei decided to use her next.
She takes her feathers once more and at the same time brushes the soft side over the centre of Tyene’s low arches, watching in satisfaction as her toes wiggle uncontrollably.
“Out of all three, you have always had susceptible feet.”
Ellaria whimpers from down the hallway as she watches her daughters, her tears falling onto the stone floor as the guard holds her in place.
“You will get your turn eventually, Ellaria, now be quiet.”
Tyene giggles slightly as Cersei runs the feather softly over the bottoms of her toes, her cheeks flushing as she quickly bites her lip. But that one giggle was all Cersei needed. She takes her feathers and back and forth runs them across her toes, barely touching them. They skim across skin and Tyene spits, still trying to contain her laughter as the tips of her toes become pink.
Cersei moves the feather down just an inch so it’s hitting both Tyene’s toes and the top of the foot base and Tyene can’t help herself. Straight away she gives in to the sensation, her body curling as she begins to howl with laughter.
Cersei smiles in accomplishment and continues to slow her movements, enjoying the sigh of Tyene’s tears falling from her eyes.
Tyene’s stomach burns with the uncontrollable need to laugh, her breath coming in hard and fast as she sucks it in between screams of uncontrollable laughter. Her whole body shivers with the ticklish sensation, the feather only crazing the skin, but still providing her with so much ticklish stimulation.
“I can’t hold out.”
She turns to her sister and throws her head back, her abdomen tensing as the laughter consumes her entirely.
“Like I said to Obara, all you have to do is say I’ve won.”
Tyene shakes her head, refusing to look at the Queen. Her tears fall slowly down her cheeks and onto her chest. Her hands clench above her as she shivers, her ankles twitching as Cersei changes tactics and begins to scrape her nails delicately over the arches of her feet.
“Say it Tyene, Or suffer like poor Obara.”
Cersei smiles as she looks at the sensitive feet, the exposed flesh becoming pinker with each tortuous stroke of her nails.
From a distance, a cry catches Cersei’s attention, and she smiles. The cry was Aria’s that much she could tell, and it brought her a lot of joy to still hear her howling cries of laughter, even after she had left.
“The laughing cries of my prisoners is delightful, wouldn’t you agree Tyene.”
She doesn’t answer which causes Cersei to begin scratching at her low foot arches again, her nails scratching soft, delicate strokes into the tender pink flesh.
Tyene howls in a burst of uncontrollable laughter, her stomach tensing once more as she fights to hold back her uncontrollable laughter. It, however, is no use, she ends laughing herself to the point of passing out, and Cersei can’t help but huff at the woman who now sagged, her breathing becoming softer as Cersei rolls herself back.
“Well, I suppose I have one of you left.”
She smiles cruelly and looks to the last remaining sand snake with a bitter stare.
She rolls her stool closer to Nymeria, and she can’t help but revel in the slight flinch of her enemies body as she nears. She moves her tray beside her and dusts her hand across her tools, her eyes scanning for the perfect one.
“I’ve heard that your large feet take a little more work, but it seems they are already tender and pink...how about we use this.”
Cersei holds up her wooden hairbrush with a smile, and Nymeria shakes her head. Cersei knew that a hairbrush against the base and arches of Nymeria’s feet was a weakness for her, it always had her begging for mercy, which was one of Cersei’s favourite sounds.
“Will you follow the same footsteps of your sisters, or will you be smart and give in?”
Nymeria hisses at the Queen and Cersei takes it as her answer.
“I suppose we will do this the hard way.”
Slowly she inches the hairbrush closer to the sole of the food, settling the bristles harshly against the skin Nymeria trembles but keeps quiet, her lip pulled back severely as she stares at the wall ahead.
Could she survive this? Probably not, she would most likely end up like her sisters; however, she would not give in to the Queen, that she was sure of.
Cersei takes her time in delicately moving the brush over the foot, allowing it to dip into the high arch and trace roughly against her skin. She knew Nymeria’s feet reacted more to rougher touches, that is why she wasn’t holding back.
The bristles crinkle against Nymeria’s feet, and Cersei can just about make out a small twitch in her toes. It would take some time, but soon she would be howling with uncontrollable laughter.
Cersei looks up at Nymeria, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly as she roughly trails the brush up to the base of her foot, slowly but forcefully dragging it back and forth across the skin. Nymeria’s long slender toes begin to twitch, her body reacting to the touch.
These small movements were all the motivation that Cersei needed.
She takes a second brush in her free hands and applies it to the second foot, smiling as she begins the same rough torture to the foot’s base. Nymeria hisses and wiggles from above and Cersei can tell that she is so close to breaking.
“Give in, Nymeria, let your mother see how weak you are.”
Nymeria huffs but can feel herself being consumed by the tortuous sensation.
Nymeria’s eyes cloud over with tears, the water slowly begins to fall from the pools in the corners of her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
Cersei smiles and Nymeria breaks.
The brushes drift up the slightest bit, catching the bottoms of each of her toes and Nymeria buckles, her chest contracting as she screams out in a fit of agonising laughter.
Nymeria’s body heaves, and Cersei can’t help but smile wickedly over at a weeping Ellaria.
“I will give it to them, they are strong, but not strong enough.”
Cersei presses with a little more force and Nymeria whimpers, coughing violently in between laughs. How could laughing cause so much torture? Her throat was already on fire, and her stomach was burning from its constant contracting.
“Please no more.”
Cersei smiles but continues, the bristles scratching the sensitive skin with just enough pressure to have Nymeria bursting into another laughing fit.
“Tell me I’ve won Nymeria, then you won’t have the same fate as your sisters.”
Across from her Obara, stirs and Nymeria can’t help but close her eyes and weep. How could her sisters put themselves through so much torture? She didn’t know if she could last another second.
“I...please.”
Cersei laughs and removes the brushes from Nymeria’s feet, softly settling them down on the tray to grab an oil that Qyburn had gifted to her just a few days prior.
She takes the oil into her palm and soothes it over the bottoms of Nymeria’s feet, ensuring to get it in between the toes and crevices. Nymeria watches her with a frightful stare, her toes twitching as Cersei glides a nail across her foot arch.
“This oil isn’t like any other...It was made for me for this exact purpose. I suppose I should tell you what it does.”
Cersei stands and walks across to a small basin of water, quickly and efficiently washing her hands. She had to get it from her hands before it started to take effect on her.
“This oil is infused with a specific serum that sensitised the feet; however, it was modified so that I don’t have to touch you to make you laugh; instead the oil will create a pinching and tickling sensation, allowing me to stand back and watch you come undone.”
A guard hands Cersei a towel to wipe her hands, and Cersei smiles, looking to Nymeria who was already becoming flushed.
“I have a lot of beautiful things being created for this very purpose, so never think that I won’t have something new to try.”
Nymeria’s toes begin to twitch as the oil takes effect and Cersei takes a seat on the throne she had pleased in the chamber for this very reason. She wanted to be powerful whilst watching her enemies wither in uncontrollable laughter.
Nymeria swallows as she begins to feel the prickling in her feet, the oil taking effect almost instantly. The sensation causes her to wince as her feet become even more sensitised from before. How could someone create such things?
Nymeria begins to giggle, her ankles and toes twitching uncontrollably as she throws back her head and howls. Her whole body withers as she gives in to the sensation, her chest heaving uncontrollably as she pulls forcefully at the restraints.
It doesn’t take long for her to start becoming fuzzy, her lungs not taking in enough air between outbursts of laughter. She becomes hazy, and before she knows it, she too passes out from the uncontrollable laughter.
Cersei smiles and begins to clap, her body overcome with joy.
“Well, that was certainly a lot of fun, wouldn’t you agree with me, Ellaria?”
The guards pull Elaria’s weeping body to the foot of the throne, pushing her to her knees and forcing her head back. Cersei smiles, sitting herself up so that she can look into the eyes of the weeping mother.
She took a lot of joy from Ellaria’s pain, considering she was the one that killed her daughter, it brought her triumph to watch her suffer as she had.
“Now, don’t think I forgot about you, no, I have something particularly special planned for you.”
Ellaria growls and is forcefully turned to look at her daughters, each of them sagging and unconscious. Cersei smiles and ushers the guards to bind her in the centre, surrounded by her daughters.
“You see, I have this device that I think would work wonderfully for you.”
Ellaria fights as the Guards bind her wrists in the metal cuffs and hand her from the central hook in the ceiling. Her legs kick furiously, but the guards handle her, forcing her legs into a wooden pillory below.
“Apply the same oil I used on Nymeria and have the device brought in.”
The guard’s nod and Cersei smiles. A guard begins to apply the oil to Ellarie’s feet, ensuring it was smothered across every surface of her feet. The large wooden device is hauled in and settled beneath her feet.
Cersei admits she is proud of this creation, it was one of Qyburn's greatest.
“You see the rope, well once it’s given to me, I will be able to control the movement of the bristles and feathers located just below your feet.”
Ellaria looks down and growls, spitting at the machine.
“That won’t save you.”
Cersei smiles and pulls the rope, pulling the machine into action. The clogs move with a clank, and the bristles and feather move on the circular wheel, spinning anti-clockwise.
The bristles and feathers brush Ellaria’s feet, and she whimpers, the oil already beginning to take effect against her sensitive flesh.
.
“You see Ellaria, your daughters were just the beginning.”
— TO BE CONTINUED —
Ash is a pleasure to work with! She provided a shared google doc that allowed me to follow along as she wrote and to make comments and request modifications during the writing process, making this one of the most enjoyable commission gigs I have placed to date! She is currently writing part 2.
Ash can be contacted for commissions on Fiverr, under the profile name abrown_. The link to her gig is here..
Can't wait to read on!
