midrifftickler
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Here is the first part of Chapter 2 of Dawn's Story. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!
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 4
After falling asleep, it did not take very long for Dawn to wake up in a cold sweat. As a very recent and vivid influence, the purely evil woman who had stolen her from the beach dominated her nightmares. The unwanted dreams primarily consisted of whips and hands coming to smack the prisoner, along with a harsh reminder of the nonsensical rule that she had broken. With the actual beatings standing out in her short-term memory, the nightmare punishments felt real enough to stir the terrified tickle slave from her slumber. Not that Dawn’s inability to stay asleep really mattered. No matter how many times she woke up with blind terror in her mind and on her face, the captive always passed out again; she was simply too exhausted from all the tickling and beating to stay conscious for very long.
Strangely enough, Dawn’s position stayed constant throughout her cycles of passing out and being shocked awake, no matter how shaken she was upon regaining consciousness. When she had first been locked in the cage, the tickle slave had made herself as small as possible by bringing her knees up to her chest. The multitude of whippings and hand smacks that she had endured had instilled a desire in the captive to become invisible, and without anywhere to hide, the only way to fulfill such a desire was to become tiny. That fear was continually reinforced when the tickle slave woke up in terror of another beating; all she wanted to do was keep herself from being hit again. As for returning to sleep, it did not hurt that curling up contained her body heat better and made it easier to dip into unconsciousness.
After a few hours of falling asleep and waking up in terror, Dawn felt her bare skin begin to cool as fresh air rushed over it. An announcement from what sounded like the muscular guard accompanied this, “Attention, all tickle slaves! It is time for the next part of your journey into tickle slavery. We will be coming around and taking you out of your cells in twos and threes based on your testing. In these groups, you will board smaller ships to be tortured on your way to the Tickle Cartel. Do not resist us, or we will punish you harshly. It was a pleasure holding you prisoner on this ship, slaves!”
With no other real options, Dawn continued curling her body up to stay small, hoping beyond hope that she would not be noticed as the slavers came around. Her plan worked for a while; tickle slaves were pulled out of cages all around the room and then guided outside. However, her time eventually came, and the guard that had put her in the prison rolled her out gently. Seeing a whip hooked to the woman’s waist, Dawn obeyed the announced warning and did not resist, even when a vertical connecting rope attached her arms to her legs. The new rope did not strain her arms, something Dawn was grateful for, but it ensured that she could not reach the whip when she was lifted up over the strong woman’s shoulder.
In the same way she had been brought into the cage-filled room, the tickle slave was carried to a new prison. She was taken through several corridors before a breeze on her bare feet and legs alerted her that the last door was to the ship’s deck. Noticing water all around her and unusually terrified already, Dawn pressed her arms and legs into her captor’s midsection and back. The woman carrying her gave her a reassuring pat on the back and squeezed the tickle slave tightly as they crossed a guard railed ramp to a new ship. “Here you go. This is Dawn.” The guard carefully set Dawn down on the ground of the small vessel and presented her to a new Tickle Cartel employee.
“Thanks,” a brown-haired woman responded as she pulled the prisoner to her feet. “I think that’s all of them. Have a nice trip back.”
“You, too,” the strong woman bid Dawn’s new captor goodbye as she headed back to the big ship.
“Let’s get you inside,” the new authority figure proclaimed as she untied the rope loosely connecting Dawn’s upper and lower limbs. She led the prisoner inside to a warm room on the top deck of the small ship. Without warning, the captor violently shoved Dawn towards a mattress seating two similarly bound tickle slaves. Her upper body flew towards the mattress, but her restrained ankles did not follow as fast, and she struggled to stay upright. Only the intervention of the other two tickle slaves prevented her from faceplanting, as their tied arms reached up to catch her shortly before she collided with the mattress. While being turned around to sit between her fellow captives, Dawn noticed that the tickle slave to her left was much older than her, perhaps only slightly younger than her parents. The young prisoner’s face expressed thanks to her helper, but she was too afraid to say it out loud, given what had just happened. Once she was seated upright on the mattress, the sound of something smacking a steel wall brought everyone’s attention to the other side of the room, where there were now two Tickle Cartel employees leering down at the captives.
“Alright, everyone, let’s get something straight: you are slaves, and we will not hesitate to punish you for falling out of line!” the new woman, who held a large wooden paddle, broadcasted before hitting the wall with her tool again and causing a collective wince among the bound prisoners. “My name is Ziva, and this is my partner, Diana.” Dawn mentally identified Diana as the harsher captor of the two so far due to her real actions as opposed to Ziva’s threats. “We are in charge of you slave scum until we reach the Tickle Cartel, and we will be monitoring your torture machines along the way for disobedience and weak spots. Should we see you disobey or do something we do not like, we can and will command additional torture for you. Otherwise, until we reach the Tickle Cartel, the machines will be continually torturing you to initiate you into tickle slavery. Before we take you down to the machines which will be tormenting you, do you have any questions?”
Ziva’s tone was so harsh that Dawn could feel the mattress shaking from the collective nervousness of the trio of captives. Eventually, the tickle slave on Dawn’s right stuttered, “I-I-I h-have a q-q-q-question.”
Ziva and Diana came up on either side of her, the former captor still holding her paddle, and Ziva sneered, “Then spit it out, slave.”
“W-Why did you pick the three of us for this ship?” the tickle slave fearfully asked.
“Such… a… dumb… question!” Ziva’s paddle struck the slave in the back just as Diana pulled out something from behind her back. The second captor’s mysterious object made a sizzling sound right before the tickle slave’s back arching connected her tummy with the tool.
“AHAHA!” A yelp exited the inquirer’s mouth, and her stomach sucked back into place.
“That’s why,” Diana made a vague statement. “All three of you would have similar reactions if that happened to you.” With two confused glances and one scared stare, the slaver clarified further, albeit with some frustration, “Idiots. Your bellies are all your weak spots, and we’re going to take advantage of that fact. Any more questions? I’m itching to use the tickle baton again.”
The threat of the tool in Diana’s hand killed the appetite for asking questions. “Alright, then,” Ziva took back over as the two captors returned to standing in front of their prisoners, “let’s meet the three of you. I want names and ages, or you get the paddle. Yelper, you start.”
“I’m Maile, and I’m 26.” The slaver’s pointer finger made it clear who was to begin.
“Dawn, 18.” Dawn did not hesitate when it was her turn to talk.
“My name’s Hope, and I am 39.” The final member of the enslaved trio was not that much younger than Dawn’s mother.
“Congratulations; you all passed your first test, slaves,” Diana addressed the prisoners mockingly. “Now, I’m going to take you down to your torture boxes while Ziva stays up here to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Young scum, you’re first.”
Dawn was only half-sure that she was going first until the slaver’s nails pierced the bare skin just below her shoulders and pulled her up. With no way to really help herself stand, the tickle slave simply winced as her captor lifted her to her feet so she could walk. Diana verbally instructed the slave to an elevator, slapping her back whenever the ropes on Dawn’s ankles prevented her from going fast enough. Luckily for the captive, her ankles were not bound so tight as to cause a fall whenever she was hit, and she reached the elevator still standing. After a short trip down, Diana forcefully pushed Dawn out of the elevator, and the tickle slave stumbled to another room in the interior of the smaller ship. Three large container-like structures dominated the room, and the slaver forced her prisoner near the furthest one. Diana lifted a bar holding the structure shut, opened the door, and shoved the captive into the dark interior. After stumbling inside, Dawn fell, her hands bracing on a padded piece of furniture that somewhat felt like a bed, and the door slammed shut, trapping her in a pitch-black room.
The tickle slave heard the bar fall back into place, and a half-minute later, the container lit up as a monotone voice spoke, “Activating. Searching for slave, identity: Dawn. Slave Dawn identified. Initiating torture session number one.”
In that time, Dawn had confirmed that her arms had braced her on an elevated bed, but before she could stand up, she felt something grip her sides. The pinching on her middle was excessive and painful, but it only lasted long enough to pick her up and properly deposit her faceup on the bed. Still feeling some soreness in her sides, Dawn identified two clearly mechanical but human-shaped hands heading up to her hands and down to her ankles. They gripped the ropes holding her arms and legs together and pulled them up and down, respectively, stretching her taut on the bed.
After this, three more hands emerged from the entry side of the structure, these ones having more fingers than a human hand would. Terrified of the strange things, Dawn’s body, aside from her arms and legs, curved towards the opposite wall, but the hands reached her all the same. The tickle slave felt mechanical fingers rest on her midsection, and then the tickling started. The fingers began pressing in and retracting at random intervals, simulating poking motions. Despite the fact that the tools were metal, they did tickle, and Dawn was unable to keep her laughter in. Each hand was occupying a circle on her stomach, with ten fingers forming a circle around the eleventh finger. For Dawn, the eleventh finger pushing on her outie bellybutton was pretty painful, but all thirty-two of the other fingers produced plenty of laughing. It appeared that the finger on her navel believed she had an innie bellybutton, and it was pressing her outie hard and far, as if it was trying to poke the knot at the bottom of an innie.
It took the tickle slave a few minutes to get used to the non-human method of tickling; as something that even a group of humans could never do, it just felt odd. By the time she regained her senses, Dawn had already uttered several pleas, each of which was ignored by the machined hands. The captive eventually heard the same monotone voice as before making verbal observations, “Belly very ticklish. Bellybutton seems especially sensitive. Switching center finger on hand number one to match outie bellybutton torture profile.”
The verbal affirmation of her deformity, although it was clearly just analysis for improving the tickling, caused the tickle slave to again become embarrassed. Luckily for her, she could not turn her face red; her laughter had turned it that color already. Her laughter pitched up quite a bit, primarily caused by the machine poking her tickle button more lightly and effectively after its verbal confirmation of its true shape. Now, instead of being the tool that caused the most pain, the navel-tickling metal finger was the main cause of the ticklee’s hysterical laughter. As the fingers tickled more precisely on Dawn’s weak spots, she continued begging but stopped listening to the machine drone on with initial observations.
Following what felt like forever to Dawn, the strangely shaped hands departed her midriff, and the rope-holding hands released their grip. The tickle slave’s bound hands rushed down to cover up her less pained abdomen on instinct, and it was only when a paddle struck her knee that she refocused herself. “OW!” she yelped before looking towards the paddle.
“Welcome to the true beginning of your tickle slave training, slave scum,” the voice from earlier addressed Dawn. “I am the machine holding you, and I will be the director of your torture while you are in me. My model is Stomach Slaver v28. You shall address me as Mistress or Mistress Slaver; either will be acceptable.”
‘How about Jerk?’ Dawn retorted inside her head, although she did not let her nostrils flare up to indicate her already-established hate of the machine.
“I will be tickle torturing you for several hours a day while you are here, along with dishing out other punishments as needed,” the machine waved the wooden paddle as she spoke the last part of the sentence. “There is a restroom right there.” A small door slid open on the right side of the entrance. “You may use it once I untie your arms and legs. You will have five minutes to go in and come out of there; otherwise, I will punish you.” The paddle gave one last wave as the normal hands from earlier returned to undo the ropes restraining Dawn, the ticklee willingly raising her hands to allow the rope removal. Soon enough, the tickle slave was freed from her bondage, and she took advantage of the chance to use the facilities.
Dawn was out well before the allotted five minutes were up, and the voice returned, “Good job, slave. You can follow simple directions. Now sit on the bed.” The tickle slave took a quick look around and realized that if she did not want to sit on the floor, the bed was the only other option, so she took it. “Now, I want to reassure you of some things. You will be fed and given water in here, and I have fresh air pumping in through the vents. Also, I will give you time to sleep on that bed every night, and you will have some time to recover physically from the tickle torture sessions. The equipment inside me will be monitoring your pulse and breathing to make sure you are not in any internal danger, and I am fully equipped with medical supplies and programming just in case. A major part of my mission is to keep you alive and healthy so you will be appealing to your future owner. Understand?”
Dawn nodded her head and then asked, “I can see you’re a machine, but- AAH!”
“Only speak when requested, slave!” One of the hands that had unbound Dawn gave her shoulder an open-palm slap, and she screamed in pain from the extra hard impact. “The nod was sufficient. I may provide time for questions later, but not now. Right now, you need to eat before we start another torture session. Sit up.” Not wishing to be hit again, the tickle slave accepted the news with just a submissive nod and did as the machine instructed.
A meal tray slid out from the back wall, sliding a plate with a ham sandwich onto her bed as it retreated, and Dawn devoured the small meal. The sandwich was the first food she had been provided since her capture, and she was starving after all the tickling she had already endured. As the tickle slave was eating, a cup of water was set on the ground near her bed. Dawn eventually noticed the water and eagerly drank it, and then she consumed more water after the cup was taken away and refilled. Finally, the grumbling that had been building up in her stomach subsided, replaced with the bare minimum of nutrition.
“Okay, let’s get this torture session started,” the machine broadcasted after taking the empty plate and cup away. “Lay back down on the bed.” Dawn did so, and she looked to the two regular hands, expecting them to bind her. However, she was taken by surprise when four new hands grabbed her wrists and ankles. Apparently, these hands, each containing a normal five fingers, came from the wall by her bed, and they quickly placed her in the same position as before. Then the first two human-like hands sprang into action, heading for the head and foot of the bed, respectively. Soon, Dawn felt chains wrapping around one of her wrists and one of her ankles, then the other pair. The bindings were tight enough to keep her limbs secure, but not so tight that they would hurt her.
Once she was bound on the bed, Dawn worriedly glanced around for the new tool that would be tickling her. She would not have been fazed normally, but those odd hands from the last session gave her the creeps about the tools for her upcoming ticklings. After allowing the captive to stew for a minute or two, the tickle machine opened a compartment near the bathroom. The tickle tool or tools started out shrouded in darkness, and Dawn’s eyes filled with fear as she waited for the revelation of the mysterious tool that would tickle torture her.
Next Chapter
Chapter 2: The Evil Box, Part 2
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 4
After falling asleep, it did not take very long for Dawn to wake up in a cold sweat. As a very recent and vivid influence, the purely evil woman who had stolen her from the beach dominated her nightmares. The unwanted dreams primarily consisted of whips and hands coming to smack the prisoner, along with a harsh reminder of the nonsensical rule that she had broken. With the actual beatings standing out in her short-term memory, the nightmare punishments felt real enough to stir the terrified tickle slave from her slumber. Not that Dawn’s inability to stay asleep really mattered. No matter how many times she woke up with blind terror in her mind and on her face, the captive always passed out again; she was simply too exhausted from all the tickling and beating to stay conscious for very long.
Strangely enough, Dawn’s position stayed constant throughout her cycles of passing out and being shocked awake, no matter how shaken she was upon regaining consciousness. When she had first been locked in the cage, the tickle slave had made herself as small as possible by bringing her knees up to her chest. The multitude of whippings and hand smacks that she had endured had instilled a desire in the captive to become invisible, and without anywhere to hide, the only way to fulfill such a desire was to become tiny. That fear was continually reinforced when the tickle slave woke up in terror of another beating; all she wanted to do was keep herself from being hit again. As for returning to sleep, it did not hurt that curling up contained her body heat better and made it easier to dip into unconsciousness.
After a few hours of falling asleep and waking up in terror, Dawn felt her bare skin begin to cool as fresh air rushed over it. An announcement from what sounded like the muscular guard accompanied this, “Attention, all tickle slaves! It is time for the next part of your journey into tickle slavery. We will be coming around and taking you out of your cells in twos and threes based on your testing. In these groups, you will board smaller ships to be tortured on your way to the Tickle Cartel. Do not resist us, or we will punish you harshly. It was a pleasure holding you prisoner on this ship, slaves!”
With no other real options, Dawn continued curling her body up to stay small, hoping beyond hope that she would not be noticed as the slavers came around. Her plan worked for a while; tickle slaves were pulled out of cages all around the room and then guided outside. However, her time eventually came, and the guard that had put her in the prison rolled her out gently. Seeing a whip hooked to the woman’s waist, Dawn obeyed the announced warning and did not resist, even when a vertical connecting rope attached her arms to her legs. The new rope did not strain her arms, something Dawn was grateful for, but it ensured that she could not reach the whip when she was lifted up over the strong woman’s shoulder.
In the same way she had been brought into the cage-filled room, the tickle slave was carried to a new prison. She was taken through several corridors before a breeze on her bare feet and legs alerted her that the last door was to the ship’s deck. Noticing water all around her and unusually terrified already, Dawn pressed her arms and legs into her captor’s midsection and back. The woman carrying her gave her a reassuring pat on the back and squeezed the tickle slave tightly as they crossed a guard railed ramp to a new ship. “Here you go. This is Dawn.” The guard carefully set Dawn down on the ground of the small vessel and presented her to a new Tickle Cartel employee.
“Thanks,” a brown-haired woman responded as she pulled the prisoner to her feet. “I think that’s all of them. Have a nice trip back.”
“You, too,” the strong woman bid Dawn’s new captor goodbye as she headed back to the big ship.
“Let’s get you inside,” the new authority figure proclaimed as she untied the rope loosely connecting Dawn’s upper and lower limbs. She led the prisoner inside to a warm room on the top deck of the small ship. Without warning, the captor violently shoved Dawn towards a mattress seating two similarly bound tickle slaves. Her upper body flew towards the mattress, but her restrained ankles did not follow as fast, and she struggled to stay upright. Only the intervention of the other two tickle slaves prevented her from faceplanting, as their tied arms reached up to catch her shortly before she collided with the mattress. While being turned around to sit between her fellow captives, Dawn noticed that the tickle slave to her left was much older than her, perhaps only slightly younger than her parents. The young prisoner’s face expressed thanks to her helper, but she was too afraid to say it out loud, given what had just happened. Once she was seated upright on the mattress, the sound of something smacking a steel wall brought everyone’s attention to the other side of the room, where there were now two Tickle Cartel employees leering down at the captives.
“Alright, everyone, let’s get something straight: you are slaves, and we will not hesitate to punish you for falling out of line!” the new woman, who held a large wooden paddle, broadcasted before hitting the wall with her tool again and causing a collective wince among the bound prisoners. “My name is Ziva, and this is my partner, Diana.” Dawn mentally identified Diana as the harsher captor of the two so far due to her real actions as opposed to Ziva’s threats. “We are in charge of you slave scum until we reach the Tickle Cartel, and we will be monitoring your torture machines along the way for disobedience and weak spots. Should we see you disobey or do something we do not like, we can and will command additional torture for you. Otherwise, until we reach the Tickle Cartel, the machines will be continually torturing you to initiate you into tickle slavery. Before we take you down to the machines which will be tormenting you, do you have any questions?”
Ziva’s tone was so harsh that Dawn could feel the mattress shaking from the collective nervousness of the trio of captives. Eventually, the tickle slave on Dawn’s right stuttered, “I-I-I h-have a q-q-q-question.”
Ziva and Diana came up on either side of her, the former captor still holding her paddle, and Ziva sneered, “Then spit it out, slave.”
“W-Why did you pick the three of us for this ship?” the tickle slave fearfully asked.
“Such… a… dumb… question!” Ziva’s paddle struck the slave in the back just as Diana pulled out something from behind her back. The second captor’s mysterious object made a sizzling sound right before the tickle slave’s back arching connected her tummy with the tool.
“AHAHA!” A yelp exited the inquirer’s mouth, and her stomach sucked back into place.
“That’s why,” Diana made a vague statement. “All three of you would have similar reactions if that happened to you.” With two confused glances and one scared stare, the slaver clarified further, albeit with some frustration, “Idiots. Your bellies are all your weak spots, and we’re going to take advantage of that fact. Any more questions? I’m itching to use the tickle baton again.”
The threat of the tool in Diana’s hand killed the appetite for asking questions. “Alright, then,” Ziva took back over as the two captors returned to standing in front of their prisoners, “let’s meet the three of you. I want names and ages, or you get the paddle. Yelper, you start.”
“I’m Maile, and I’m 26.” The slaver’s pointer finger made it clear who was to begin.
“Dawn, 18.” Dawn did not hesitate when it was her turn to talk.
“My name’s Hope, and I am 39.” The final member of the enslaved trio was not that much younger than Dawn’s mother.
“Congratulations; you all passed your first test, slaves,” Diana addressed the prisoners mockingly. “Now, I’m going to take you down to your torture boxes while Ziva stays up here to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Young scum, you’re first.”
Dawn was only half-sure that she was going first until the slaver’s nails pierced the bare skin just below her shoulders and pulled her up. With no way to really help herself stand, the tickle slave simply winced as her captor lifted her to her feet so she could walk. Diana verbally instructed the slave to an elevator, slapping her back whenever the ropes on Dawn’s ankles prevented her from going fast enough. Luckily for the captive, her ankles were not bound so tight as to cause a fall whenever she was hit, and she reached the elevator still standing. After a short trip down, Diana forcefully pushed Dawn out of the elevator, and the tickle slave stumbled to another room in the interior of the smaller ship. Three large container-like structures dominated the room, and the slaver forced her prisoner near the furthest one. Diana lifted a bar holding the structure shut, opened the door, and shoved the captive into the dark interior. After stumbling inside, Dawn fell, her hands bracing on a padded piece of furniture that somewhat felt like a bed, and the door slammed shut, trapping her in a pitch-black room.
The tickle slave heard the bar fall back into place, and a half-minute later, the container lit up as a monotone voice spoke, “Activating. Searching for slave, identity: Dawn. Slave Dawn identified. Initiating torture session number one.”
In that time, Dawn had confirmed that her arms had braced her on an elevated bed, but before she could stand up, she felt something grip her sides. The pinching on her middle was excessive and painful, but it only lasted long enough to pick her up and properly deposit her faceup on the bed. Still feeling some soreness in her sides, Dawn identified two clearly mechanical but human-shaped hands heading up to her hands and down to her ankles. They gripped the ropes holding her arms and legs together and pulled them up and down, respectively, stretching her taut on the bed.
After this, three more hands emerged from the entry side of the structure, these ones having more fingers than a human hand would. Terrified of the strange things, Dawn’s body, aside from her arms and legs, curved towards the opposite wall, but the hands reached her all the same. The tickle slave felt mechanical fingers rest on her midsection, and then the tickling started. The fingers began pressing in and retracting at random intervals, simulating poking motions. Despite the fact that the tools were metal, they did tickle, and Dawn was unable to keep her laughter in. Each hand was occupying a circle on her stomach, with ten fingers forming a circle around the eleventh finger. For Dawn, the eleventh finger pushing on her outie bellybutton was pretty painful, but all thirty-two of the other fingers produced plenty of laughing. It appeared that the finger on her navel believed she had an innie bellybutton, and it was pressing her outie hard and far, as if it was trying to poke the knot at the bottom of an innie.
It took the tickle slave a few minutes to get used to the non-human method of tickling; as something that even a group of humans could never do, it just felt odd. By the time she regained her senses, Dawn had already uttered several pleas, each of which was ignored by the machined hands. The captive eventually heard the same monotone voice as before making verbal observations, “Belly very ticklish. Bellybutton seems especially sensitive. Switching center finger on hand number one to match outie bellybutton torture profile.”
The verbal affirmation of her deformity, although it was clearly just analysis for improving the tickling, caused the tickle slave to again become embarrassed. Luckily for her, she could not turn her face red; her laughter had turned it that color already. Her laughter pitched up quite a bit, primarily caused by the machine poking her tickle button more lightly and effectively after its verbal confirmation of its true shape. Now, instead of being the tool that caused the most pain, the navel-tickling metal finger was the main cause of the ticklee’s hysterical laughter. As the fingers tickled more precisely on Dawn’s weak spots, she continued begging but stopped listening to the machine drone on with initial observations.
Following what felt like forever to Dawn, the strangely shaped hands departed her midriff, and the rope-holding hands released their grip. The tickle slave’s bound hands rushed down to cover up her less pained abdomen on instinct, and it was only when a paddle struck her knee that she refocused herself. “OW!” she yelped before looking towards the paddle.
“Welcome to the true beginning of your tickle slave training, slave scum,” the voice from earlier addressed Dawn. “I am the machine holding you, and I will be the director of your torture while you are in me. My model is Stomach Slaver v28. You shall address me as Mistress or Mistress Slaver; either will be acceptable.”
‘How about Jerk?’ Dawn retorted inside her head, although she did not let her nostrils flare up to indicate her already-established hate of the machine.
“I will be tickle torturing you for several hours a day while you are here, along with dishing out other punishments as needed,” the machine waved the wooden paddle as she spoke the last part of the sentence. “There is a restroom right there.” A small door slid open on the right side of the entrance. “You may use it once I untie your arms and legs. You will have five minutes to go in and come out of there; otherwise, I will punish you.” The paddle gave one last wave as the normal hands from earlier returned to undo the ropes restraining Dawn, the ticklee willingly raising her hands to allow the rope removal. Soon enough, the tickle slave was freed from her bondage, and she took advantage of the chance to use the facilities.
Dawn was out well before the allotted five minutes were up, and the voice returned, “Good job, slave. You can follow simple directions. Now sit on the bed.” The tickle slave took a quick look around and realized that if she did not want to sit on the floor, the bed was the only other option, so she took it. “Now, I want to reassure you of some things. You will be fed and given water in here, and I have fresh air pumping in through the vents. Also, I will give you time to sleep on that bed every night, and you will have some time to recover physically from the tickle torture sessions. The equipment inside me will be monitoring your pulse and breathing to make sure you are not in any internal danger, and I am fully equipped with medical supplies and programming just in case. A major part of my mission is to keep you alive and healthy so you will be appealing to your future owner. Understand?”
Dawn nodded her head and then asked, “I can see you’re a machine, but- AAH!”
“Only speak when requested, slave!” One of the hands that had unbound Dawn gave her shoulder an open-palm slap, and she screamed in pain from the extra hard impact. “The nod was sufficient. I may provide time for questions later, but not now. Right now, you need to eat before we start another torture session. Sit up.” Not wishing to be hit again, the tickle slave accepted the news with just a submissive nod and did as the machine instructed.
A meal tray slid out from the back wall, sliding a plate with a ham sandwich onto her bed as it retreated, and Dawn devoured the small meal. The sandwich was the first food she had been provided since her capture, and she was starving after all the tickling she had already endured. As the tickle slave was eating, a cup of water was set on the ground near her bed. Dawn eventually noticed the water and eagerly drank it, and then she consumed more water after the cup was taken away and refilled. Finally, the grumbling that had been building up in her stomach subsided, replaced with the bare minimum of nutrition.
“Okay, let’s get this torture session started,” the machine broadcasted after taking the empty plate and cup away. “Lay back down on the bed.” Dawn did so, and she looked to the two regular hands, expecting them to bind her. However, she was taken by surprise when four new hands grabbed her wrists and ankles. Apparently, these hands, each containing a normal five fingers, came from the wall by her bed, and they quickly placed her in the same position as before. Then the first two human-like hands sprang into action, heading for the head and foot of the bed, respectively. Soon, Dawn felt chains wrapping around one of her wrists and one of her ankles, then the other pair. The bindings were tight enough to keep her limbs secure, but not so tight that they would hurt her.
Once she was bound on the bed, Dawn worriedly glanced around for the new tool that would be tickling her. She would not have been fazed normally, but those odd hands from the last session gave her the creeps about the tools for her upcoming ticklings. After allowing the captive to stew for a minute or two, the tickle machine opened a compartment near the bathroom. The tickle tool or tools started out shrouded in darkness, and Dawn’s eyes filled with fear as she waited for the revelation of the mysterious tool that would tickle torture her.
Next Chapter
Chapter 2: The Evil Box, Part 2
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