midrifftickler
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Here is the final part of Chapter 1 of Dawn's Story. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!
Warning: This part contains harsher whipping than previous stories of mine.
Chapter Beginnings
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise
Chapter 2: The Evil Box
Chapter 3: On the Run
Chapter 4: A New Paradise
Chapter 5: Tummy Testing
Chapter 6: Hidden Citizen
Chapter 7: Tummy Training
Chapter 8: Sessions and Reflections
Chapter 9: Full Citizen
Chapter 10: The Mistress
Chapter 11: Royals and Revelations
Chapter 12: The Rarest Reunion
Chapter 13: Novice Mistress
Chapter 14: Taking Control
Previous Chapter
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise, Part 3
“Just give me a reason,” the second slaver said, and Dawn almost thought that she wanted to whip all the slaves that came through there.
“I’ll leave this slave scum with you,” the monster announced once the third person in the room had reached the two. “Let me know when she’s done. I want her back for more fun.” The tickle slave did not hear any more words before the door opened and slammed shut.
“Alright, let’s get her up,” the unarmed woman proclaimed as the whipper walked over to them. Plenty exhausted from the tickling, not to mention having to walk with chains digging into her wrists and ankles, Dawn did not resist as the two slightly kinder people unlocked her and then strapped her to the wall in an X shape. These new straps were much softer, and they did not hurt hardly at all.
“Okay, slave, what’s your name?” the whip-armed slaver asked the bound woman.
“MMPH!” Dawn was still gagged, so that came out when she attempted to give a truthful answer.
“Resisting? Bad idea.” The tickle slave knew that her gag was plainly visible, but apparently, the slaver did not care. “You’ll learn to obey and tell us what we want to know soon enough.” Dawn learned that this whip hurt more than the previous one when it hit her upper legs. “Name, now!”
Dawn gave another muffled response, and the whip hit with another repeat of the question. Of course, the tickle slave could not give her name in a way that could be understood, but she still tried to reply. At first, her answers consisted of a muffled “Dawn” and then a scream of pain. Several lashes later, she changed her repeated statement to a non-understandable version of, “I’m gagged!”, which was often shortened to just “I’m” by the impact of the whip. She eventually stopped trying to say anything after being hit a large number of times, finally aware that she could not stop this torture. Following a long period of incessant whipping, Dawn let out a scream so loud it was audible through the gag. The whip had drawn blood from both of her thighs, and the pain was severe.
“Patch her up,” the whipper seemed disappointed that she had hit Dawn’s skin enough times to break through. “We’re going to have to report this.”
“Yeah, I know,” the other slaver was also sad as she retrieved a first aid kit. The cuts were not very large, and a small amount of Neosporin and a large plain bandage was sufficient to cover up each one. “And I guess we better take this off. Your knees are next if you complain, slave.” The threat was enough to keep Dawn from launching into a diatribe as the tape was ripped off and the ball-gag was taken out. “Okay, slave, now you better tell us your name.”
“Dawn!” Finally able to speak, the tickle slave desperately yelled her name, and the whip-holding slaver wrote it down on a nearby pad of paper.
“Age?” the more compassionate slaver requested.
“Eighteen,” Dawn was all too happy to provide the answer.
“Most ticklish spot?” the third question came.
“Belly and bellybutton.” Nearly no time passed between the end of the inquiry and the start of the response.
“Good, that’s what our machine says,” the whipper pointed to a contraption that her partner had been behind during Dawn’s whipping. “Now, since you resisted earlier, we’re going to have to tickle test your tummy for fifteen minutes instead of the standard thirty seconds. Remember, complaining gives me a reason to bring the whip back.”
Dawn’s mouth clamped shut at the threat, and it only opened again when a nail brushed her bare belly. Unlike the forceful finger pad prodding by her previous captor, this torso tickling was focused on softer touches. The teasing nails lightly swiped and spidered across the surface of Dawn’s stomach, eliciting squeals and constant laughter out of the ticklee. Although these tickles felt completely different than her previous tickle torment, the tickle slave could not help but laugh freely. She had enjoyed the feeling of the tickling whenever her prior tormentor was engrossed in the activity, but the light tickles were so much better. Perhaps it was the demeanor of the ticklers, whose sadism had nearly disappeared once Dawn was able to cooperate with them. Or maybe the soft touch of fingernails barely brushing her belly was just a relief after consistent pain had plagued her existence. Either way, Dawn was happy to have such a nice experience, and she let out a steady stream of pleasant laughter.
The ticklee was having so much fun with the tickling that she felt no need to go inside her mind for an escape. Ever since the whipping had cut her legs, the two slavers had been relatively nice to her, simply asking questions and accepting answers. Instead of recalling another story, Dawn committed this tickling to her memory. The kinder of the two ticklers had begun by lightly brushing near the center of her bare belly with her pointer fingernail, and after the tickle slave let out a little squeal, the tickler had immediately started using her four other fingernails on the hand. Shortly after this, the whipper had transformed into a decently nice tickler, walking one set of nails down Dawn’s side. The ticklee had rewarded this strategy with hiccup-sounding squeals whenever one of the nails hit. Upon hearing that reaction, both ticklers could not help but giggle, and four sets of finger walking commenced around the abdomen. This did not have the intended effect; the tickling hit too randomly to get discrete hiccup yelps out. Instead, a pleasant stream of chuckles flowed out of Dawn’s mouth, giving ticklers and ticklee something nice to listen to.
After a few minutes, the nicer tickler decided to pause her tickling. Her ten nails left the ticklish torso, something the tickle slave was somewhat sad to feel. However, the other tickler kept her busy by spidering her nails all across the midsection. Then something new brushed against Dawn’s bellybutton, causing a panicked yelp to exit the ticklee’s mouth. The reaction got more giggles out of the ticklers as the prisoner looked down to see that a feather was now in play. Having absolutely adored the first reaction she got from navel tickling, the nicer tickler slid the feather from the captive’s left side to her right side, stopping for a quick flicker on the outie. Again, Dawn did not disappoint, squealing with joy when her most ticklish spot was touched. The two ticklers either enjoyed hearing Dawn love the tickling or took the squeal as a tormented one, because they simply could not get enough of it. Fingers, feathers, and even paintbrushes that the first tickler retrieved all took turns teasing the protruding outside of the button and hitting the knot at the top. Although Dawn truly despised having an outie as part of her appearance, its sensitivity was still the one thing that she loved about it, and she soaked in all the tickling it received. Her eyes eventually closed so she could focus on remembering that perfect feeling of being tickled by all sorts of soft tools.
Eventually, with disappointment in her tone, the nicer tickler broadcasted, “That’s the fifteen minutes, El. We’ve got to stop.”
“Well, rats,” the more sadistic slaver was also sad to see the session come to an end. She looked to Dawn with an evil smile that informed the tickle slave that the two ticklers had no idea how widespread joy was during the previous fifteen minutes. “But that’s just the start of your tickle torment, slave. You’ll be tickled and tortured consistently for the rest of your life.”
“And that wraps up what we need to do with her,” the former slaver proclaimed, and a look of pure horror came onto Dawn’s face when she realized what this meant. She was going back to her original captor, who would surely torture her mercilessly.
“Yep, but…” the second Tickle Cartel employee paused.
“There’s no way we can send her back to Lacy,” the nicer captor nodded, apparently having figured out what her partner was going to say. “She needs time to recover. I mean, just look at her: bloodshot eyes, a bruised cheek, chafed wrists…” As her former tickler listed signs of abuse on her body, Dawn realized that the tickling may have energized her, but her short captivity had already taken a toll. “Not to mention her legs and feet. Her ankles are the same as her wrists; the chains on them were clearly digging in. And when we were tying her up there, I think her toes had some sort of burn on them, probably from being dragged across that floor.”
“Yeah, I agree,” the more sadistic slaver seemed to show concern. “Lacy’s going to hate us, but this slave needs some sleep and some time to herself. And can you imagine if the bosses actually care about tickle slaves getting sleep? They’d be furious at us if we turned her back over to Lacy. There is no chance that she would let Dawn here get any sleep. I doubt Lacy would do anything past barely letting her breathe.”
“Okay, it’s decided,” the nicer slaver declared. “We’ll send her to the main slave room. You call them; I’ll get her down.” Finally, she turned to the subject of the conversation, “Hey, I have to tie your wrists and ankles together; it’s a requirement for moving all tickle slaves. But I won’t do it super tight like you’ve had before.” Dawn just stared blankly at the wall opposite her, and ropes were soon tied over her upper arms and lower legs, with long horizontal connecting ropes to further restrain movement. “Okay, I’m going to get you down from there now.” Since she was unbinding the tickle slave on her own, the tickler pressed an elbow against her captive’s bikini-clad body to keep her from swaying after undoing her right ankle and wrist straps. The second slaver rushed over after finishing her call and embraced Dawn to prevent her from hanging after the right ankle strap was removed.
Finally, when the right wrist restraint was taken off, the two slavers carefully lowered the weak tickle slave to the ground. The sadistic captor moved Dawn up a few steps and then slipped her elbows under the prisoner’s armpits in an apparently planned maneuver. With the loosely rope-bound arms up, the nice tickler tightened the connecting rope until Dawn’s wrists were almost touching. Then the elbows left their post, and the tickle slave was free to slowly move. She took one step and almost fell because of her lack of balance. However, the newly caring captors caught both her shoulders and her sides, the latter grab inducing an inadvertent shriek of laughter.
“Chair,” the former sadist of the two instructed her partner after she moved her arms to hold Dawn’s arms. The tickle slave was nothing short of shocked when the nicer tickler brought in a wheelchair, and the surprise continued when the meaner captor put her into said chair. “Don’t worry, Dawn; lots of tickle slaves are exhausted by the time we get done with them. You’re going to be just fine after you rest for a little bit.” With that, Dawn and the nice captor departed the room of whipping and minimal other torture.
After a short journey on the wheelchair, the tickle slave found herself face to face with a few Tickle Cartel employees outside of a large steel door. “Hey, this is Dawn. She was Lacy’s captive earlier, and she needs rest. Lacy will be coming around looking for her. Whatever you do, make sure she does not get a hold of Dawn. I’m not sure how much more of Lacy’s treatment Dawn can take. Please hide her well.”
“Lacy won’t get near her, I promise,” a burly guard stated before reaching down and lifting the weakened tickle slave out of the chair. “I’ll carry her inside, and you can go test your next tickle slave.” The second guard opened the door, and Dawn immediately felt a rush of heat wash over her bare skin. Looking around, the tired captive noticed a maze of cages holding imprisoned women on the ground, none more than four feet high but each large with enough surface area to fit even a tall woman. The muscular Tickle Cartel employee soon brought Dawn to a cage in the middle of the room, and she set the slave on the surprisingly soft ground while she unlocked the empty cell. Once the door was opened, Dawn was rolled inside, and then it shut. “We’ll bring you out when we’re ready. For now, get some sleep, slave.”
After the guard left, the tickle slave shivered as she recalled her time in captivity so far. Her arms and legs were still bound, but the restraints were no longer actively hurting her. As tiredness took over, Dawn pulled her knees towards her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible to avoid further painful punishment.
Next Chapter
Chapter 2: The Evil Box, Part 1
Warning: This part contains harsher whipping than previous stories of mine.
Chapter Beginnings
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise
Chapter 2: The Evil Box
Chapter 3: On the Run
Chapter 4: A New Paradise
Chapter 5: Tummy Testing
Chapter 6: Hidden Citizen
Chapter 7: Tummy Training
Chapter 8: Sessions and Reflections
Chapter 9: Full Citizen
Chapter 10: The Mistress
Chapter 11: Royals and Revelations
Chapter 12: The Rarest Reunion
Chapter 13: Novice Mistress
Chapter 14: Taking Control
Previous Chapter
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise, Part 3
“Just give me a reason,” the second slaver said, and Dawn almost thought that she wanted to whip all the slaves that came through there.
“I’ll leave this slave scum with you,” the monster announced once the third person in the room had reached the two. “Let me know when she’s done. I want her back for more fun.” The tickle slave did not hear any more words before the door opened and slammed shut.
“Alright, let’s get her up,” the unarmed woman proclaimed as the whipper walked over to them. Plenty exhausted from the tickling, not to mention having to walk with chains digging into her wrists and ankles, Dawn did not resist as the two slightly kinder people unlocked her and then strapped her to the wall in an X shape. These new straps were much softer, and they did not hurt hardly at all.
“Okay, slave, what’s your name?” the whip-armed slaver asked the bound woman.
“MMPH!” Dawn was still gagged, so that came out when she attempted to give a truthful answer.
“Resisting? Bad idea.” The tickle slave knew that her gag was plainly visible, but apparently, the slaver did not care. “You’ll learn to obey and tell us what we want to know soon enough.” Dawn learned that this whip hurt more than the previous one when it hit her upper legs. “Name, now!”
Dawn gave another muffled response, and the whip hit with another repeat of the question. Of course, the tickle slave could not give her name in a way that could be understood, but she still tried to reply. At first, her answers consisted of a muffled “Dawn” and then a scream of pain. Several lashes later, she changed her repeated statement to a non-understandable version of, “I’m gagged!”, which was often shortened to just “I’m” by the impact of the whip. She eventually stopped trying to say anything after being hit a large number of times, finally aware that she could not stop this torture. Following a long period of incessant whipping, Dawn let out a scream so loud it was audible through the gag. The whip had drawn blood from both of her thighs, and the pain was severe.
“Patch her up,” the whipper seemed disappointed that she had hit Dawn’s skin enough times to break through. “We’re going to have to report this.”
“Yeah, I know,” the other slaver was also sad as she retrieved a first aid kit. The cuts were not very large, and a small amount of Neosporin and a large plain bandage was sufficient to cover up each one. “And I guess we better take this off. Your knees are next if you complain, slave.” The threat was enough to keep Dawn from launching into a diatribe as the tape was ripped off and the ball-gag was taken out. “Okay, slave, now you better tell us your name.”
“Dawn!” Finally able to speak, the tickle slave desperately yelled her name, and the whip-holding slaver wrote it down on a nearby pad of paper.
“Age?” the more compassionate slaver requested.
“Eighteen,” Dawn was all too happy to provide the answer.
“Most ticklish spot?” the third question came.
“Belly and bellybutton.” Nearly no time passed between the end of the inquiry and the start of the response.
“Good, that’s what our machine says,” the whipper pointed to a contraption that her partner had been behind during Dawn’s whipping. “Now, since you resisted earlier, we’re going to have to tickle test your tummy for fifteen minutes instead of the standard thirty seconds. Remember, complaining gives me a reason to bring the whip back.”
Dawn’s mouth clamped shut at the threat, and it only opened again when a nail brushed her bare belly. Unlike the forceful finger pad prodding by her previous captor, this torso tickling was focused on softer touches. The teasing nails lightly swiped and spidered across the surface of Dawn’s stomach, eliciting squeals and constant laughter out of the ticklee. Although these tickles felt completely different than her previous tickle torment, the tickle slave could not help but laugh freely. She had enjoyed the feeling of the tickling whenever her prior tormentor was engrossed in the activity, but the light tickles were so much better. Perhaps it was the demeanor of the ticklers, whose sadism had nearly disappeared once Dawn was able to cooperate with them. Or maybe the soft touch of fingernails barely brushing her belly was just a relief after consistent pain had plagued her existence. Either way, Dawn was happy to have such a nice experience, and she let out a steady stream of pleasant laughter.
The ticklee was having so much fun with the tickling that she felt no need to go inside her mind for an escape. Ever since the whipping had cut her legs, the two slavers had been relatively nice to her, simply asking questions and accepting answers. Instead of recalling another story, Dawn committed this tickling to her memory. The kinder of the two ticklers had begun by lightly brushing near the center of her bare belly with her pointer fingernail, and after the tickle slave let out a little squeal, the tickler had immediately started using her four other fingernails on the hand. Shortly after this, the whipper had transformed into a decently nice tickler, walking one set of nails down Dawn’s side. The ticklee had rewarded this strategy with hiccup-sounding squeals whenever one of the nails hit. Upon hearing that reaction, both ticklers could not help but giggle, and four sets of finger walking commenced around the abdomen. This did not have the intended effect; the tickling hit too randomly to get discrete hiccup yelps out. Instead, a pleasant stream of chuckles flowed out of Dawn’s mouth, giving ticklers and ticklee something nice to listen to.
After a few minutes, the nicer tickler decided to pause her tickling. Her ten nails left the ticklish torso, something the tickle slave was somewhat sad to feel. However, the other tickler kept her busy by spidering her nails all across the midsection. Then something new brushed against Dawn’s bellybutton, causing a panicked yelp to exit the ticklee’s mouth. The reaction got more giggles out of the ticklers as the prisoner looked down to see that a feather was now in play. Having absolutely adored the first reaction she got from navel tickling, the nicer tickler slid the feather from the captive’s left side to her right side, stopping for a quick flicker on the outie. Again, Dawn did not disappoint, squealing with joy when her most ticklish spot was touched. The two ticklers either enjoyed hearing Dawn love the tickling or took the squeal as a tormented one, because they simply could not get enough of it. Fingers, feathers, and even paintbrushes that the first tickler retrieved all took turns teasing the protruding outside of the button and hitting the knot at the top. Although Dawn truly despised having an outie as part of her appearance, its sensitivity was still the one thing that she loved about it, and she soaked in all the tickling it received. Her eyes eventually closed so she could focus on remembering that perfect feeling of being tickled by all sorts of soft tools.
Eventually, with disappointment in her tone, the nicer tickler broadcasted, “That’s the fifteen minutes, El. We’ve got to stop.”
“Well, rats,” the more sadistic slaver was also sad to see the session come to an end. She looked to Dawn with an evil smile that informed the tickle slave that the two ticklers had no idea how widespread joy was during the previous fifteen minutes. “But that’s just the start of your tickle torment, slave. You’ll be tickled and tortured consistently for the rest of your life.”
“And that wraps up what we need to do with her,” the former slaver proclaimed, and a look of pure horror came onto Dawn’s face when she realized what this meant. She was going back to her original captor, who would surely torture her mercilessly.
“Yep, but…” the second Tickle Cartel employee paused.
“There’s no way we can send her back to Lacy,” the nicer captor nodded, apparently having figured out what her partner was going to say. “She needs time to recover. I mean, just look at her: bloodshot eyes, a bruised cheek, chafed wrists…” As her former tickler listed signs of abuse on her body, Dawn realized that the tickling may have energized her, but her short captivity had already taken a toll. “Not to mention her legs and feet. Her ankles are the same as her wrists; the chains on them were clearly digging in. And when we were tying her up there, I think her toes had some sort of burn on them, probably from being dragged across that floor.”
“Yeah, I agree,” the more sadistic slaver seemed to show concern. “Lacy’s going to hate us, but this slave needs some sleep and some time to herself. And can you imagine if the bosses actually care about tickle slaves getting sleep? They’d be furious at us if we turned her back over to Lacy. There is no chance that she would let Dawn here get any sleep. I doubt Lacy would do anything past barely letting her breathe.”
“Okay, it’s decided,” the nicer slaver declared. “We’ll send her to the main slave room. You call them; I’ll get her down.” Finally, she turned to the subject of the conversation, “Hey, I have to tie your wrists and ankles together; it’s a requirement for moving all tickle slaves. But I won’t do it super tight like you’ve had before.” Dawn just stared blankly at the wall opposite her, and ropes were soon tied over her upper arms and lower legs, with long horizontal connecting ropes to further restrain movement. “Okay, I’m going to get you down from there now.” Since she was unbinding the tickle slave on her own, the tickler pressed an elbow against her captive’s bikini-clad body to keep her from swaying after undoing her right ankle and wrist straps. The second slaver rushed over after finishing her call and embraced Dawn to prevent her from hanging after the right ankle strap was removed.
Finally, when the right wrist restraint was taken off, the two slavers carefully lowered the weak tickle slave to the ground. The sadistic captor moved Dawn up a few steps and then slipped her elbows under the prisoner’s armpits in an apparently planned maneuver. With the loosely rope-bound arms up, the nice tickler tightened the connecting rope until Dawn’s wrists were almost touching. Then the elbows left their post, and the tickle slave was free to slowly move. She took one step and almost fell because of her lack of balance. However, the newly caring captors caught both her shoulders and her sides, the latter grab inducing an inadvertent shriek of laughter.
“Chair,” the former sadist of the two instructed her partner after she moved her arms to hold Dawn’s arms. The tickle slave was nothing short of shocked when the nicer tickler brought in a wheelchair, and the surprise continued when the meaner captor put her into said chair. “Don’t worry, Dawn; lots of tickle slaves are exhausted by the time we get done with them. You’re going to be just fine after you rest for a little bit.” With that, Dawn and the nice captor departed the room of whipping and minimal other torture.
After a short journey on the wheelchair, the tickle slave found herself face to face with a few Tickle Cartel employees outside of a large steel door. “Hey, this is Dawn. She was Lacy’s captive earlier, and she needs rest. Lacy will be coming around looking for her. Whatever you do, make sure she does not get a hold of Dawn. I’m not sure how much more of Lacy’s treatment Dawn can take. Please hide her well.”
“Lacy won’t get near her, I promise,” a burly guard stated before reaching down and lifting the weakened tickle slave out of the chair. “I’ll carry her inside, and you can go test your next tickle slave.” The second guard opened the door, and Dawn immediately felt a rush of heat wash over her bare skin. Looking around, the tired captive noticed a maze of cages holding imprisoned women on the ground, none more than four feet high but each large with enough surface area to fit even a tall woman. The muscular Tickle Cartel employee soon brought Dawn to a cage in the middle of the room, and she set the slave on the surprisingly soft ground while she unlocked the empty cell. Once the door was opened, Dawn was rolled inside, and then it shut. “We’ll bring you out when we’re ready. For now, get some sleep, slave.”
After the guard left, the tickle slave shivered as she recalled her time in captivity so far. Her arms and legs were still bound, but the restraints were no longer actively hurting her. As tiredness took over, Dawn pulled her knees towards her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible to avoid further painful punishment.
Next Chapter
Chapter 2: The Evil Box, Part 1
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