https://www.wattpad.com/user/SabinaMaris
https://www.deviantart.com/grandinerossa
Luana is a young woman of 25, about1.65 meters tall, with a slim but harmonious body. Her light brownhair reaches just below her shoulders, slightly wavy in a naturalway. She has intense green eyes that stand out thanks to a light butwell-groomed makeup: length mascara and a veil of aquamarineeyeshadow.
On this special day, while she is getting ready forthe wedding, she is wearing a champagne-colored silk dressing gownthat reaches her ankles, slightly open at the front. Underneath, shehas already put on her wedding underwear: a transparent white lacepush-up bra, combined with a matching thong of the same delicatefabric. The tights are transparent nylon, with a slight satin shade,which shapes her legs making them even more elegant.
On herfeet, she wears a pair of soft white satin slippers, while her wristsare adorned with gold bracelets that jingle every time she moves herhands. A discreet but fascinating décolleté is highlighted by thebra, which enhances the breasts without exaggerating.
The roomaround her is decorated with fresh flowers and smells of gardenias,her favorite perfume, which she has already sprayed delicately on herneck and wrists. She is checking her watch, a little nervous, whenher mother knocks softly on the door.
"Luana, honey, iseverything okay?" asks the soft but excited voice on the otherside of the door.
"Yes, Mom, I'm almost done," Luanareplies with a shaky smile, trying to calm her heartbeat.
Luana approaches the wedding dress, apiece made to measure for her. It is a mermaid-style dress, with aboat neckline that highlights her slender neck and delicateshoulders. The upper part is entirely made of transparent lace, whichallows a glimpse of her soft skin, while the slightly vaporous skirtends in a short train that barely touches the floor.
Anunusual detail, but one that Luana specifically wanted, is the highcut on the arms: the short lace sleeves end just under the armpits,leaving these areas completely uncovered, almost as if to emphasizeher femininity with a bold and personal touch. The fabric adheresperfectly to her body, highlighting every curve without being tooinvasive.
After putting on the dress, Luana bends down to puton her wedding shoes: white décolleté with high and thin heels,adorned with small crystals that reflect the light every time shemoves her feet. They are comfortable but elegant, ready to supporther during the long day.
Finally ready, she takes a deepbreath and stands in front of the room’s full-length mirror. Herdress shimmers under the dim lights, making her feel like a princessout of a fairy tale. Her green eyes sparkle as she takes in everydetail of her reflection: the way the lace delicately entwines herback, her posture upright and confident despite the anxiety that’stightening her stomach.
With slightly trembling hands, shesmooths back a strand of hair that’s escaped from her elaborateupdo—a loose bun decorated with fresh gardenia flowers, matchingthe bouquet that rests on the nightstand beside her.
The phone on the nightstand vibratesslightly, followed by the discreet sound of a notification. Luanaapproaches and reads the message that appears on the display: Thelimousine has arrived. Her heart beats faster in her chest as sheslowly puts her phone away.
She takes a deep breath to calmherself, then delicately grabs the bouquet of white gardenias andsqueezes it in her hands. With careful steps, she begins to movetowards the door, making sure that her dress does not bunch up andthat her heels slide silently on the floor.
Once she reachesthe stairs, Luana begins the descent, holding lightly on the banisterto maintain her balance. Each step seems to amplify her emotion; thedress rustles delicately against her legs, and the light of thehallway illuminates every detail of the feathery fabric. Her exposedarmpits give her a feeling of vulnerability mixed with elegance, asif she were completely exposed but at the same time protected by thedress she is wearing.
Once she reaches the bottom of thestairs, she sees the front door of the house wide open, revealing thelong black limousine parked out front. A smartly dressed chauffeur ina dark suit and tie waits patiently by the open door, all ready togreet her with a professional smile.
Luana walks confidentlythrough the foyer, feeling the weight of the moment growing with eachstep. The cool air from outside caresses her face as she steps outthe door, and the chauffeur offers a hand to help her into the car.She gives him a brief smile of thanks, then settles into thelimousine, carefully arranging her dress around her.
Insidethe car, everything is perfectly arranged: chilled bottles ofchampagne, fresh flowers, and soft music filling the space. Luanalooks around for a moment, inhaling deeply, before looking out thewindow. The road to the church has begun.
After a few minutes of driving, Luanabegins to notice something strange. Instead of following the mainroad that leads directly to the church, the limousine takes anunexpected detour. Looking out the window, she notices that the urbanlandscape gradually gives way to more desolate and less frequentedstreets.
"Excuse me," Luana says, addressing thedriver in a polite but curious tone, "isn't this the road to thechurch?"
The driver, without turning, promptly replies:"Don't worry, miss. There was a bit of traffic on the main road,so I opted for a shortcut. Don't worry, we'll get there intime."
Luana nods, trying to convince herself thateverything is under control. However, as the car continues, theunease grows inside her. The road becomes increasingly narrow andhidden, lined with thick trees that block out the sunlight. There areno other cars in sight, nor any familiar road signs.
After afew more minutes, Luana can no longer hide her concern. "Excuseme again," she says, her voice shaking slightly, "but...where exactly are we going? This road looks very different from theone planned."
The driver pauses briefly before answering,keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "I repeat, don'tworry. I'm just avoiding traffic. We're almost there."
Buthis words aren't enough to calm her. Now Luana feels a knot in herstomach, and the feeling of vulnerability given by the exposedarmpits of her dress transforms into a shiver of anxiety. Sheunconsciously clutches the bouquet to her chest, as if it were arefuge from the unexpected.
She looks out the window again,hoping to recognize something, but the road continues to be desertedand anonymous. The limousine suddenly slows, as if it were about tostop in the middle of that isolated place.
Suddenly, a faint, disturbing smellpermeates the air inside the limousine. Before Luana can understandwhat is happening, a colorless, dense gas begins to slowly spreadaround her. She tries to hold her breath, but it is already too late:her head becomes heavy, the contours of the world become blurry, andeverything around her begins to spin. With one last effort, she canonly think: What happened?, before losing consciousnesscompletely.
When she wakes up, Luana is confused and dazed.Her head is throbbing slightly, and every movement seems to requirean immense effort. Little by little, reality comes back into focus,revealing an alarming situation. She is no longer in the limousine,but in a dark, cold room, with rough stone walls that emanatehumidity. A dim light from an unknown source barely illuminates thesurrounding space.
She is tied to a strange chair, made ofcold, hard metal. Her arms have been raised above her head andsecured to two metal rings welded to the frame, forcing her into anuncomfortable but exposed position. Her feet, still clad in herwedding shoes, are locked into some sort of medieval stocking,similar to those used in ancient punishments, leaving her completelyimmobilized.
Her wedding dress, now slightly creased, clingsto her body differently due to the forced position, furtherhighlighting her exposed armpits. The bouquet is gone, and her scentof gardenias has been replaced by the musty smell of the room.
Luanatries to move, but every attempt is in vain. The ropes holding herstill are tight and unyielding, and the stocking on her feet won'tgive even a millimeter. Her mind, still fogged by the gas, tries toprocess what is happening. Who could have engineered all of this? Andwhy her?
The oppressive silence of the room is broken only bythe sound of her labored breathing and the rapid beating of herheart. With every passing second, his anxiety increases as he waitsto figure out what will happen next.
After a few minutes that seem likehours, the creak of a rusty door breaks the silence of the room.Luana raises her face, her heart pounding in her chest, and sees thelimousine driver slowly enter the room. He is still wearing his darksuit, but now he has a completely different expression: cold,calculating, devoid of any trace of the apparent professionalism heshowed before.
The man approaches with a measured pace, hiseyes fixed on Luana, without saying a word. His every move seemsstudied, as if he were examining a trophy he has just won. The dimlight accentuates the features of his face, making it almost unreal,while his massive figure looms over the chair Luana is tiedto.
Luana tries to speak, but her throat tightens with fear."W-what... what do you want from me?" she finally managesto stammer, her voice shaking but full of defiance despite thesituation.
The driver doesn't respond immediately. He stops afew steps away from her, tilting his head slightly, as if he isconsidering how much to say. Then, with an enigmatic smile, hereaches out and delicately touches the fabric of the wedding dress,just under Luana's exposed armpits. The gesture is slow, almosthypnotic, and sends a shiver down the girl's spine.
"Don'tworry," he says finally, his voice low and controlled. "Thisis all part of a plan much bigger than you."
His tone iscalm, almost reassuring, but his words are full of menace. The manwithdraws his hand and takes a step back, still looking at her withan unreadable expression.
Luana swallows hard, trying tomaintain a semblance of calm despite the growing panic inside her.Every fiber of her being screams at her to fight, to find a way out,but for now she is completely immobilized, vulnerable and at themercy of that mysterious man.
“What do you want from me?” Luanarepeats the question, trying to force her voice despite the shaking.“I’m nobody important! My family has no money, you can’t get aransom!”
The man smiles, a slow, mocking grin crossing hisface. He leans slightly toward her, bringing himself within inches ofher face. Luana’s eyes widen at the intensity of the moment, as shefeels his breath brush her skin.
“A ransom?” he says,shaking his head slightly. “No, no, dear bride. That’s not whatyou’re here for.”
Luana holds her breath, expectinganything, but not prepared for the next answer. The man pausesdramatically, as if relishing every second of suspense, then says thewords that make Luana instantly pale.
“You’re here… tobe tickled.”
His voice is calm, almost businesslike, but theimplications of his words hit Luana with full force. Her eyes widenin confusion and mounting horror as she tries to pull away, eventhough the bonds prevent her from moving.
"Tickled?"she stammers, incredulous. "But... why? This doesn't makesense!"
The man doesn't respond immediately. Instead, hepulls something from the inside pocket of his suit: a small, softobject, similar to a feather, which he swings slowly in front ofLuana's wide eyes. Luana's heart begins to beat even faster as sherealizes that the man is serious.
The man moves with studied slowness,approaching Luana’s right side. Each of his steps echoes heavily inthe room, amplifying the girl’s anxiety. She tries desperately topull away, but the bonds are relentless, and the metal armchairoffers no escape route. In that moment, regret overwhelms Luana: Whydid I choose this dress? Why not something more covering?
Beforeshe can formulate another thought, the man raises the feathertheatrically, staring into her eyes as if to savor her reaction. Witha fluid motion, he begins to slide the feather delicately alongLuana’s exposed armpit, from top to bottom.
The touch islight, almost imperceptible at first, but enough to make her jump. Awave of unexpected sensations runs through her: a combination ofannoyance, discomfort, and a strange form of involuntary arousal thatleaves her breathless. Her body reacts against her will, tremblingslightly under the contact.
Luana tries to wriggle free, butthe bonds around her wrists and ankles hold her firmly in place. Theonly thing she can do is squeeze her eyes shut, trying to ignore thetingling that continues to expand every time the feather touches heragain. The situation seems surreal to her, a nightmare from which shecan't wake up.
"See?" the man says with an almostamused tone, carefully observing every reaction on her face. "Itdoesn't hurt, right? It just feels... good."
The word"good" sounds like a provocation, and Luana feels the blushrising to her cheeks, mixed with shame and frustration. She doesn'twant to feel anything of what she's feeling, but her traitorous bodydoesn't obey her.
The man continues to move the featherwith extreme slowness, almost studying Luana's every reaction. Thelight but insistent touch of the feather on the sensitive skin of herarmpit is tolerable at first, but soon it becomes a silent torture.Each touch seems to amplify the sensitivity of the previous spot,forcing Luana's body to react against her will.
She grits herteeth, determined not to give in, even as her shoulders begin toshake and the muscles of her face tense to hold back any sound. Sheknows that resisting is the only weapon she has at that moment, eventhough she knows full well that her traitorous body might not be ableto hold out for long.
"Resist," the man says with anenigmatic smile, noticing Luana's effort. "But let's see howlong you last."
The tone of his voice is calm, almostprofessional, as if he were conducting a scientific experiment. Yet,each word echoes in the room, increasing Luana's anguish. The feathercontinues its tortuous journey, up and down her exposed armpit, evercloser to the limit of its endurance.
The first signs ofweakness appear when the trembling of Luana's shoulders becomes moreevident. Her lips part slightly, and a stifled sigh escapes herthroat, despite all her efforts to remain impassive. It is a losingbattle from the start: every fiber of her being screams to freeherself from that unbearable touch, but the bonds are implacable, andher resolve wavers more and more.
Once again, the featherslides downward, and this time Luana feels a wave of ticklingoverwhelm her completely. Her eyes close involuntarily, and a softsob escapes her lips, mixed with a desperate attempt to hold back anyother reaction.
The man, with a mischievous grin on hisface, takes a second feather from his suit pocket. He holds it up infront of Luana's eyes, letting her immediately understand hisintentions. Luana's heart races even more, and a shiver of terrorruns down her spine at the thought of what is about to happen: bothof her exposed armpits will soon be the object of attention.
"Don'tworry," the man says in a falsely reassuring tone, "I'lltry to be... thorough."
Without waiting for a response,he moves behind Luana, positioning himself so that he can easilyreach both sides of her body. Her arms, already stretched above herhead, seem to become even more vulnerable in that position. Thedesperate desire to lower them and cover herself is overwhelming, butthe metal bindings do not allow her even a millimeter ofmovement.
With almost sadistic delicacy, the man begins totwirl the two feathers on the sensitive spots under Luana's armpits.Every touch is designed to maximize the discomfort, every movementcalibrated to amplify the tickle. At first, Luana tries to resist asshe did before, but the double assault is too much for her body.
Anirresistible wave of stifled laughter explodes from the depths of herthroat, followed by involuntary sobs as her body begins to writhe onthe chair. Despite the bonds, she desperately tries to move hershoulders, to escape that unbearable touch, but every effort is invain. The laughter becomes more and more intense, mixed with moans offrustration and pleading.
"Please..." she finallymanages to say between one sob and the next, but the words areimmediately swallowed by another wave of uncontrollablelaughter.
The man doesn't stop, in fact, he seems to enjoyhimself more and more as he sees Luana's reaction. Every time shethinks she's reached her limit, he increases the pressure slightly orchanges the angle of his feathers, pushing her beyond any limits ofendurance.
After several minutes of this incessanttorment with the feathers, the man drops the objects to the floorwith a soft thud. Luana, still shaken by residual laughter and sobs,thinks for a moment that maybe it's over. But her hope lasts only aninstant.
With surprising speed and cruel precision, the manreaches out with both hands and sinks his fingers directly underLuana's exposed armpits. The direct contact of her sensitive skinwith the man's hands is a hundred times worse than the feathers. Herbody reacts immediately, as if it had been shocked by an electricshock.
"NOOO!" Luana screams, her high-pitched voicereverberating in the room as she begins to writhe violently in herchair. Her explosive laughter mixes with her screams, making itimpossible to distinguish one from the other. "AHAHAHA... STOPIT... AHAHAHA!"
Her laughter is forced, uncontrollable,and every attempt to hold it in fails miserably. Her body thrashesdesperately, but the bonds continue to hold her firmly in place. Eachthrust of the man's fingers seems to go deeper and deeper, amplifyingthe tickling to unbearable levels.
"HELP... AHAHAHA...PLEASE... AHAHAHAHA!" she pleads between hysterical laughter,feeling tears roll down her cheeks as she continues to laugh andscream nonstop.
The man shows no mercy, instead increasing thepace of his assault, running his fingers back and forth under botharmpits at the same time. Each movement is designed to maximizediscomfort, and Luana can no longer distinguish between fear, shame,and the ridiculous sense of involuntary pleasure that her traitorousbody inflicts on her.
The man shows no signs of stopping, hisfingers working relentlessly under Luana's exposed armpits, notgiving her a single moment of respite. Every touch of his hands is anew wave of torment, and Luana's body reacts in an increasinglyconvulsive way, shaken by forced laughter and uncontrollablespasms.
"STOP IT... PLEASE!" Luana screams with avoice choked with laughter, as she wriggles in the chair, herattempts to escape thwarted by the ties holding her still. "ICAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE... AHAHAHA!"
Tears flow copiouslydown her cheeks, mixing with the hysterical laughter that comes outof her chest in a continuous flow. Every single fiber of her beingscreams in discomfort and pain, but her traitorous body continues toreact to the tickling with frenetic movements and laughter muffled bydesperation.
"I BEGIVE YOU... AHAHAHA... ENOUGH!"Her voice breaks into a moan as she tries in vain to pull away, eventhough she knows there is no escape. The weight of her arms held highand still adds another form of tension to her already overwhelmednervous system.
The man, impassive, shows no sign of mercy. Hecontinues to move his fingers with cruel precision, focused on hisgoal. Each second seems to last an eternity for Luana, and everymoment of momentary relief is immediately erased by a new assault onher sensitive armpits.
The room echoes with her screams andmuffled laughter, as she struggles against her body, trying to resistthe relentless assault. But every effort is futile: the tormentcontinues, relentless.
After what seems like an eternity, buthas actually been an interminable ten minutes, the man finally pullshis hands away. The sudden silence in the room is almost deafeningafter the chaos of laughter, pleas, and sobs that has filled theair.
Luana remains still in the chair, panting, her chestrising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath. Everymuscle in her body is tense and sore from the effort of resisting therelentless assault. Her armpits still throb with extreme sensitivity,and every small movement of her shoulders sends a pang of residualdiscomfort.
Sweat beads on her forehead and runs down herface, mixing with her undried tears. Her brown hair, slightly escapedfrom her elegant hairstyle, falls over her soaked face, sticking toher damp skin. Her wedding dress, now crumpled and stained withtears, clings to her body with sweat, further highlighting hervulnerability.
She breathes hard, trying to calm her racingheartbeat. Each breath seems to require an immense effort, as if herbody has reached the limit of its endurance. Her red eyes stare intospace, still shaken by the traumatic experience she has justlived.
The man slowly moves behind her, watching her with anindecipherable expression. He says nothing, simply studying Luana'sexhausted figure, as if he is evaluating the success of his plan. Thesilence that follows is heavy, full of tension anduncertainty.
Luana closes her eyes, trying to find a shred ofcalm in the midst of the whirlwind of emotions that overwhelm her.But she knows well that her nightmare may not be over yet.
While Luana is still struggling tocatch her breath, her lungs burning with effort and her body shakingwith residual tremors, she feels a movement in front of her. Slowly,the man moves again, this time positioning himself at the foot of thechair, directly in front of her.
With great difficulty, Luanaraises her gaze to him, and their eyes meet across the dimly litroom. The man smiles, a slow, enigmatic smile that makes her bloodrun cold despite the heat of the sweat still beading herskin.
Luana's heart begins to race again, despite having justovercome a tickle attack that has left her exhausted. Every fiber ofher being screams at her to be alert, but the bonds and herimmobilized position prevent her from reacting effectively.
Theman does nothing for the moment, simply staring at her with thatcold, calculating smile. His stillness is almost more disturbing thanhis previous actions, as if he were planning something evenworse.
Luana swallows hard, trying to speak despite her dry,sore throat. "W-what do you want to do now?" she stammers,her voice shaking and hoarse from the effort and fear.
Theman's smile widens slightly, but he says nothing. He simply standsthere, standing at the foot of the chair, watching her with a gazethat seems to pierce her. The silence between them is tense, eachpassing second amplifying Luana's growing anxiety.
“Please… no,” Luana whispers, hervoice a faint stammer as she understands all too well what the manhas in mind. Her eyes widen in terror, and every muscle in her bodytenses in futile protest against the bonds holding her down. “Don’t…I beg you…”
But her words only seem to amuse the man,whose smile grows even wider and crueler. With slow, deliberate,almost theatrical movements, he leans toward Luana’s feet. Shefeels her heart race, pounding in her chest, each breath becomingmore labored as she watches him approach.
With extreme calm,the man delicately grasps one of the wedding shoes with both hands.Luana’s eyes narrow, anticipating the inevitable, but she can donothing to stop him. The shoe is gently brushed away from her leftfoot, revealing her toes ominously still, wrapped in the transparencyof her tights.
A shiver of fear runs down Luana’s spine asthe man repeats the operation with the other shoe, leaving hercompletely exposed. Now her delicate and perfectly manicured feet arevisible under the light fabric of the tights. Despite the situation,she can’t help but feel even more vulnerable, as if every layer ofprotection has been gradually removed.
The man stands upslightly, holding the two shoes in his hand, and looks at Luana witha look full of mischievous satisfaction. “Let’s see how good youare at resisting here too,” he says, his voice low and sharp as aknife.
Luana opens her eyes, tears streaking her sweaty faceagain. She knows she won’t be able to put up any resistance: herfeet are perhaps the most sensitive part of her body, and she knowsthat any touch, even the lightest, could make her collapse in awhirlwind of laughter and despair.
The man bends down again, this timewith an almost hypnotic expression on his face. Extremely slowly, asif he were savoring every second of that moment, he reaches out ahand towards Luana's left foot. She feels her breathing become moreand more labored, while the tears continue to flow inexorably downher cheeks.
The first brush of the man's fingers on the soleof her foot is light, almost imperceptible, but through the delicacyof the tights, the sensation is amplified to the maximum. The thinfabric transmits every minimal movement, every slight pressure,directly to her hypersensitive skin.
Luana holds her breath,desperately trying to remain still, but her traitorous body reactsimmediately. A violent shiver runs down her leg, followed by aninvoluntary contraction of the muscles of her foot. Despite herefforts, a stifled sob escapes her lips, mixed with a trembling laughthat she can't control.
The man smiles contentedly, slightlyincreasing the pressure of his fingers. Now he moves slowly back andforth along the sole of her foot, focusing particular attention onthe most sensitive points: between the toes, around the arch, up tothe heel. Each touch seems to last an eternity, and each second addsa new layer of discomfort and anguish.
"NO... PLEASE..."Luana whispers, her voice broken by tears and tension. But her wordsfall on deaf ears, as the man moves on to her right foot, repeatingthe same process with the same cruel precision.
The tights,which before were just a detail of her clothing, now seem like anadditional prison, trapping every nerve fiber under the insistenttouch of the man's fingers. The sensation becomes more and moreunbearable, and Luana feels her control slipping away, millimeter bymillimeter.
With a sudden movement, the man picksup the pace, quickly moving from an almost hypnotic delicacy to adirect and relentless assault. Both hands are busy now, his fingersdancing frantically on the soles of Luana's feet, leaving no partimmune to their touch.
"NOOOO!" Luana screams at thetop of her lungs, her voice breaking between hysterical laughter anddesperate sobs. Her body thrashes violently on the chair, the bondsmarking her skin as she tries in vain to free herself. But everymovement seems only to amplify the tickling, every attempt to escapetransformed into an opportunity for the man to intensify thetorment.
"STOP... AHAHAHA... PLEASE... NOOO!" Herscreams echo in the room, mixed with uncontrollable laughter thatcomes from the depths of her being. There is no more room for shameor dignity; every fiber of her body is overwhelmed by a wave of totalpanic.
The tights, which before seemed like a simple layer ofprotection, now act as a second, sensitized skin, transforming everytouch of the man's fingers into an explosion of unbearablesensations. Luana feels the tears running down her cheeks, mixingwith the cold sweat that beads her forehead.
The panic growsinside her, fueled by the impossibility of escaping the man'ssadistic touch. Every breath is labored, every sound emitting achaotic mix of laughter, screams and pleas. Her body is completelyout of control, contorting spasmodically as she desperately tries toget away from the man's hands.
"HELP... AHAHAHA... ICAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE..." Her voice breaks into a strangledmoan, but the man shows no sign of mercy. He continues to move hisfingers with cruel precision, focused on his goal as if nothing inthe world could distract him.
The tickling continues relentlessly,each passing second feeling like an eternity to Luana. Her pleasbecome more and more desperate, her words blurring into a litany ofpain and anguish.
"I BEGIVE YOU... AHHHH... HAVE MERCY ONME!" she screams in a broken voice, tears streaming down herface nonstop. "I'M IN HURRY... THIS IS NOT FUN... PLEASE!"
Sheviolently pulls her bound arms above her head, trying to tear herselffree from the bonds holding her still. Every movement shakes themetal chair, but the bonds don't give an inch. Her body writhes inuncontrollable spasms, while forced laughter mixes with screams ofpure terror.
"HELP ME... SOMEONE... AHAHAHA..." Hervoice fades into a strangled sob, as she tries in vain to find afoothold in reality. Every fiber of her being is focused on fightingthe torment, but every attempt is in vain. The tights continue toamplify the touch of the man's fingers, making each touch even moreunbearable.
The man, impassive, says nothing. He offers nowords of comfort, nor does he show any signs of pity. He continues tomove his fingers with cruel precision, as if he were completelyindifferent to her suffering. His every gesture is designed tomaximize Luana's discomfort, and she knows full well that there willbe no respite until she has completely exhausted her resistance.
Theroom is filled with her screams and hysterical laughter, a chorus ofdesperation that reverberates against the cold walls. Every breathseems increasingly difficult, every sound that emits a testimony toher torment. And yet, the man does not stop. He continues, withoutrest, without mercy.
After a moment’s pause, the manstops, interrupting the tickling for a brief moment. Luana, pantingand still reeling from residual spasms, tries to take advantage ofthe lull to catch her breath and try to reason with him. But beforeshe can say anything, she sees the man delicately take a small pieceof the pantyhose between his fingers under her toes.
With aquick, precise movement, he tears a small piece of the fabric onLuana’s feet, creating a slit just below her toes. He repeats theaction on the other foot, leaving her even more exposed. The directcontact of the air on her sensitive skin makes Luana shiver, furtheramplifying her vulnerability.
“Please,” Luana says in abroken voice, trying to keep her tone calm despite the panic thatstill pervades her. “What do you want from me? Why are you doingthis? I’m just a normal person… I haven’t done anythingwrong.”
The man doesn’t respond immediately. He slowlystands up, walking toward the spot where he dropped the two feathersearlier. He picks them up carefully, carefully studying Luana'sreaction as he does so.
"Please," she continues, hervoice shaking but filled with sincere desperation. "If you havea problem with me or someone I know, tell me. We can talk, find asolution. There's no point in doing this... I beg you, stop."
Buther words seem to fall on deaf ears. The man turns back to her, thefeathers now clutched in his hands, and an unreadable expressionappears on his face. No trace of pity, no sign of repentance. Justcold determination.
The man kneels at Luana's feet again,the feathers now ready between his toes. With almost surgicalprecision, he begins to delicately insert the tips of the feathersinto the small holes he has created in her tights, directly touchingthe bare, hypersensitive skin beneath Luana's toes.
The directcontact of the feather on her exposed skin is an explosion ofsensations for her, far more intense than anything she has feltbefore. Her body reacts immediately, writhing violently in the chairas a wave of hysterical laughter and sobs escapes herthroat.
"NOOO... AHAHAHA... DON'T DO IT!" Luanascreams, her voice choked with laughter and panic. Every attempt toresist is in vain; her body is completely out of control, shaken byuncontrollable spasms. Tears continue to flow copiously down hercheeks, mixing with the cold sweat that beads her forehead.
Theman shows no mercy, moving the feathers ever so slowly inside theopenings in her tights. Every movement is designed to maximize thediscomfort, every brush a new blow to her already fragile resistance.The sensation is unbearable, amplified by the delicacy of the featherand the vulnerability of her position.
"STOP... PLEASE...AHAHAHA..." Her words are lost in another wave of forcedlaughter, as she tries in vain to pull away, even though she knowsthe bonds will leave her no escape. Her chest rises and fallsrapidly, panting, as she continues to plead, with no hope of beingheard.
Every second seems to last an eternity, and every touchof the feathers adds a new layer of torment to her alreadyoverwhelmed mind. The man continues, impassive, carefully observingevery reaction of her face, as if he were conducting a cruelexperiment on a defenseless subject.
Time seems to stretch as the mancontinues to use the feathers with relentless precision. Every minutethat passes is an endless agony for Luana, her body shaken byhysterical laughter and desperate sobs. The tears do not stopflowing, mixing with the sweat that soaks her face and her nowcrumpled wedding dress.
"I CAN'T ANYMORE... AHAHAHA...STOP..." she pleads endlessly, but her words are drowned out bythe forced laughter that comes out against her will. Her chest risesand falls frantically, each breath a desperate attempt to fill herlungs as her body continues to wriggle in the chair.
Afterwhat seems like an eternity, finally, after twenty endless minutes,the man retracts the feathers. The sudden silence in the room isalmost deafening, broken only by Luana's broken sobs. She remainsstill, completely exhausted, her body still shaken by slight residualspasms. Every muscle is tense and sore, and her mind is a confusedwhirlwind of emotions: terror, shame, helplessness.
The manslowly stands up, without saying a word, and heads for the door. Hedoesn't look back, leaving Luana alone in the cold, dark room. Thedoor closes with a slight creak, leaving her completely alone withher thoughts and her suffering.
Luana bursts intouncontrollable tears, her shoulders shaking with violent sobs. Everyfiber of her being cries out in agony, yet she knows it might not beover yet. She remains there, tied to the chair, vulnerable andhelpless, wondering what else awaits her in that dark, cruel place.
https://www.deviantart.com/grandinerossa
Luana is a young woman of 25, about1.65 meters tall, with a slim but harmonious body. Her light brownhair reaches just below her shoulders, slightly wavy in a naturalway. She has intense green eyes that stand out thanks to a light butwell-groomed makeup: length mascara and a veil of aquamarineeyeshadow.
On this special day, while she is getting ready forthe wedding, she is wearing a champagne-colored silk dressing gownthat reaches her ankles, slightly open at the front. Underneath, shehas already put on her wedding underwear: a transparent white lacepush-up bra, combined with a matching thong of the same delicatefabric. The tights are transparent nylon, with a slight satin shade,which shapes her legs making them even more elegant.
On herfeet, she wears a pair of soft white satin slippers, while her wristsare adorned with gold bracelets that jingle every time she moves herhands. A discreet but fascinating décolleté is highlighted by thebra, which enhances the breasts without exaggerating.
The roomaround her is decorated with fresh flowers and smells of gardenias,her favorite perfume, which she has already sprayed delicately on herneck and wrists. She is checking her watch, a little nervous, whenher mother knocks softly on the door.
"Luana, honey, iseverything okay?" asks the soft but excited voice on the otherside of the door.
"Yes, Mom, I'm almost done," Luanareplies with a shaky smile, trying to calm her heartbeat.
Luana approaches the wedding dress, apiece made to measure for her. It is a mermaid-style dress, with aboat neckline that highlights her slender neck and delicateshoulders. The upper part is entirely made of transparent lace, whichallows a glimpse of her soft skin, while the slightly vaporous skirtends in a short train that barely touches the floor.
Anunusual detail, but one that Luana specifically wanted, is the highcut on the arms: the short lace sleeves end just under the armpits,leaving these areas completely uncovered, almost as if to emphasizeher femininity with a bold and personal touch. The fabric adheresperfectly to her body, highlighting every curve without being tooinvasive.
After putting on the dress, Luana bends down to puton her wedding shoes: white décolleté with high and thin heels,adorned with small crystals that reflect the light every time shemoves her feet. They are comfortable but elegant, ready to supporther during the long day.
Finally ready, she takes a deepbreath and stands in front of the room’s full-length mirror. Herdress shimmers under the dim lights, making her feel like a princessout of a fairy tale. Her green eyes sparkle as she takes in everydetail of her reflection: the way the lace delicately entwines herback, her posture upright and confident despite the anxiety that’stightening her stomach.
With slightly trembling hands, shesmooths back a strand of hair that’s escaped from her elaborateupdo—a loose bun decorated with fresh gardenia flowers, matchingthe bouquet that rests on the nightstand beside her.
The phone on the nightstand vibratesslightly, followed by the discreet sound of a notification. Luanaapproaches and reads the message that appears on the display: Thelimousine has arrived. Her heart beats faster in her chest as sheslowly puts her phone away.
She takes a deep breath to calmherself, then delicately grabs the bouquet of white gardenias andsqueezes it in her hands. With careful steps, she begins to movetowards the door, making sure that her dress does not bunch up andthat her heels slide silently on the floor.
Once she reachesthe stairs, Luana begins the descent, holding lightly on the banisterto maintain her balance. Each step seems to amplify her emotion; thedress rustles delicately against her legs, and the light of thehallway illuminates every detail of the feathery fabric. Her exposedarmpits give her a feeling of vulnerability mixed with elegance, asif she were completely exposed but at the same time protected by thedress she is wearing.
Once she reaches the bottom of thestairs, she sees the front door of the house wide open, revealing thelong black limousine parked out front. A smartly dressed chauffeur ina dark suit and tie waits patiently by the open door, all ready togreet her with a professional smile.
Luana walks confidentlythrough the foyer, feeling the weight of the moment growing with eachstep. The cool air from outside caresses her face as she steps outthe door, and the chauffeur offers a hand to help her into the car.She gives him a brief smile of thanks, then settles into thelimousine, carefully arranging her dress around her.
Insidethe car, everything is perfectly arranged: chilled bottles ofchampagne, fresh flowers, and soft music filling the space. Luanalooks around for a moment, inhaling deeply, before looking out thewindow. The road to the church has begun.
After a few minutes of driving, Luanabegins to notice something strange. Instead of following the mainroad that leads directly to the church, the limousine takes anunexpected detour. Looking out the window, she notices that the urbanlandscape gradually gives way to more desolate and less frequentedstreets.
"Excuse me," Luana says, addressing thedriver in a polite but curious tone, "isn't this the road to thechurch?"
The driver, without turning, promptly replies:"Don't worry, miss. There was a bit of traffic on the main road,so I opted for a shortcut. Don't worry, we'll get there intime."
Luana nods, trying to convince herself thateverything is under control. However, as the car continues, theunease grows inside her. The road becomes increasingly narrow andhidden, lined with thick trees that block out the sunlight. There areno other cars in sight, nor any familiar road signs.
After afew more minutes, Luana can no longer hide her concern. "Excuseme again," she says, her voice shaking slightly, "but...where exactly are we going? This road looks very different from theone planned."
The driver pauses briefly before answering,keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "I repeat, don'tworry. I'm just avoiding traffic. We're almost there."
Buthis words aren't enough to calm her. Now Luana feels a knot in herstomach, and the feeling of vulnerability given by the exposedarmpits of her dress transforms into a shiver of anxiety. Sheunconsciously clutches the bouquet to her chest, as if it were arefuge from the unexpected.
She looks out the window again,hoping to recognize something, but the road continues to be desertedand anonymous. The limousine suddenly slows, as if it were about tostop in the middle of that isolated place.
Suddenly, a faint, disturbing smellpermeates the air inside the limousine. Before Luana can understandwhat is happening, a colorless, dense gas begins to slowly spreadaround her. She tries to hold her breath, but it is already too late:her head becomes heavy, the contours of the world become blurry, andeverything around her begins to spin. With one last effort, she canonly think: What happened?, before losing consciousnesscompletely.
When she wakes up, Luana is confused and dazed.Her head is throbbing slightly, and every movement seems to requirean immense effort. Little by little, reality comes back into focus,revealing an alarming situation. She is no longer in the limousine,but in a dark, cold room, with rough stone walls that emanatehumidity. A dim light from an unknown source barely illuminates thesurrounding space.
She is tied to a strange chair, made ofcold, hard metal. Her arms have been raised above her head andsecured to two metal rings welded to the frame, forcing her into anuncomfortable but exposed position. Her feet, still clad in herwedding shoes, are locked into some sort of medieval stocking,similar to those used in ancient punishments, leaving her completelyimmobilized.
Her wedding dress, now slightly creased, clingsto her body differently due to the forced position, furtherhighlighting her exposed armpits. The bouquet is gone, and her scentof gardenias has been replaced by the musty smell of the room.
Luanatries to move, but every attempt is in vain. The ropes holding herstill are tight and unyielding, and the stocking on her feet won'tgive even a millimeter. Her mind, still fogged by the gas, tries toprocess what is happening. Who could have engineered all of this? Andwhy her?
The oppressive silence of the room is broken only bythe sound of her labored breathing and the rapid beating of herheart. With every passing second, his anxiety increases as he waitsto figure out what will happen next.
After a few minutes that seem likehours, the creak of a rusty door breaks the silence of the room.Luana raises her face, her heart pounding in her chest, and sees thelimousine driver slowly enter the room. He is still wearing his darksuit, but now he has a completely different expression: cold,calculating, devoid of any trace of the apparent professionalism heshowed before.
The man approaches with a measured pace, hiseyes fixed on Luana, without saying a word. His every move seemsstudied, as if he were examining a trophy he has just won. The dimlight accentuates the features of his face, making it almost unreal,while his massive figure looms over the chair Luana is tiedto.
Luana tries to speak, but her throat tightens with fear."W-what... what do you want from me?" she finally managesto stammer, her voice shaking but full of defiance despite thesituation.
The driver doesn't respond immediately. He stops afew steps away from her, tilting his head slightly, as if he isconsidering how much to say. Then, with an enigmatic smile, hereaches out and delicately touches the fabric of the wedding dress,just under Luana's exposed armpits. The gesture is slow, almosthypnotic, and sends a shiver down the girl's spine.
"Don'tworry," he says finally, his voice low and controlled. "Thisis all part of a plan much bigger than you."
His tone iscalm, almost reassuring, but his words are full of menace. The manwithdraws his hand and takes a step back, still looking at her withan unreadable expression.
Luana swallows hard, trying tomaintain a semblance of calm despite the growing panic inside her.Every fiber of her being screams at her to fight, to find a way out,but for now she is completely immobilized, vulnerable and at themercy of that mysterious man.
“What do you want from me?” Luanarepeats the question, trying to force her voice despite the shaking.“I’m nobody important! My family has no money, you can’t get aransom!”
The man smiles, a slow, mocking grin crossing hisface. He leans slightly toward her, bringing himself within inches ofher face. Luana’s eyes widen at the intensity of the moment, as shefeels his breath brush her skin.
“A ransom?” he says,shaking his head slightly. “No, no, dear bride. That’s not whatyou’re here for.”
Luana holds her breath, expectinganything, but not prepared for the next answer. The man pausesdramatically, as if relishing every second of suspense, then says thewords that make Luana instantly pale.
“You’re here… tobe tickled.”
His voice is calm, almost businesslike, but theimplications of his words hit Luana with full force. Her eyes widenin confusion and mounting horror as she tries to pull away, eventhough the bonds prevent her from moving.
"Tickled?"she stammers, incredulous. "But... why? This doesn't makesense!"
The man doesn't respond immediately. Instead, hepulls something from the inside pocket of his suit: a small, softobject, similar to a feather, which he swings slowly in front ofLuana's wide eyes. Luana's heart begins to beat even faster as sherealizes that the man is serious.
The man moves with studied slowness,approaching Luana’s right side. Each of his steps echoes heavily inthe room, amplifying the girl’s anxiety. She tries desperately topull away, but the bonds are relentless, and the metal armchairoffers no escape route. In that moment, regret overwhelms Luana: Whydid I choose this dress? Why not something more covering?
Beforeshe can formulate another thought, the man raises the feathertheatrically, staring into her eyes as if to savor her reaction. Witha fluid motion, he begins to slide the feather delicately alongLuana’s exposed armpit, from top to bottom.
The touch islight, almost imperceptible at first, but enough to make her jump. Awave of unexpected sensations runs through her: a combination ofannoyance, discomfort, and a strange form of involuntary arousal thatleaves her breathless. Her body reacts against her will, tremblingslightly under the contact.
Luana tries to wriggle free, butthe bonds around her wrists and ankles hold her firmly in place. Theonly thing she can do is squeeze her eyes shut, trying to ignore thetingling that continues to expand every time the feather touches heragain. The situation seems surreal to her, a nightmare from which shecan't wake up.
"See?" the man says with an almostamused tone, carefully observing every reaction on her face. "Itdoesn't hurt, right? It just feels... good."
The word"good" sounds like a provocation, and Luana feels the blushrising to her cheeks, mixed with shame and frustration. She doesn'twant to feel anything of what she's feeling, but her traitorous bodydoesn't obey her.
The man continues to move the featherwith extreme slowness, almost studying Luana's every reaction. Thelight but insistent touch of the feather on the sensitive skin of herarmpit is tolerable at first, but soon it becomes a silent torture.Each touch seems to amplify the sensitivity of the previous spot,forcing Luana's body to react against her will.
She grits herteeth, determined not to give in, even as her shoulders begin toshake and the muscles of her face tense to hold back any sound. Sheknows that resisting is the only weapon she has at that moment, eventhough she knows full well that her traitorous body might not be ableto hold out for long.
"Resist," the man says with anenigmatic smile, noticing Luana's effort. "But let's see howlong you last."
The tone of his voice is calm, almostprofessional, as if he were conducting a scientific experiment. Yet,each word echoes in the room, increasing Luana's anguish. The feathercontinues its tortuous journey, up and down her exposed armpit, evercloser to the limit of its endurance.
The first signs ofweakness appear when the trembling of Luana's shoulders becomes moreevident. Her lips part slightly, and a stifled sigh escapes herthroat, despite all her efforts to remain impassive. It is a losingbattle from the start: every fiber of her being screams to freeherself from that unbearable touch, but the bonds are implacable, andher resolve wavers more and more.
Once again, the featherslides downward, and this time Luana feels a wave of ticklingoverwhelm her completely. Her eyes close involuntarily, and a softsob escapes her lips, mixed with a desperate attempt to hold back anyother reaction.
The man, with a mischievous grin on hisface, takes a second feather from his suit pocket. He holds it up infront of Luana's eyes, letting her immediately understand hisintentions. Luana's heart races even more, and a shiver of terrorruns down her spine at the thought of what is about to happen: bothof her exposed armpits will soon be the object of attention.
"Don'tworry," the man says in a falsely reassuring tone, "I'lltry to be... thorough."
Without waiting for a response,he moves behind Luana, positioning himself so that he can easilyreach both sides of her body. Her arms, already stretched above herhead, seem to become even more vulnerable in that position. Thedesperate desire to lower them and cover herself is overwhelming, butthe metal bindings do not allow her even a millimeter ofmovement.
With almost sadistic delicacy, the man begins totwirl the two feathers on the sensitive spots under Luana's armpits.Every touch is designed to maximize the discomfort, every movementcalibrated to amplify the tickle. At first, Luana tries to resist asshe did before, but the double assault is too much for her body.
Anirresistible wave of stifled laughter explodes from the depths of herthroat, followed by involuntary sobs as her body begins to writhe onthe chair. Despite the bonds, she desperately tries to move hershoulders, to escape that unbearable touch, but every effort is invain. The laughter becomes more and more intense, mixed with moans offrustration and pleading.
"Please..." she finallymanages to say between one sob and the next, but the words areimmediately swallowed by another wave of uncontrollablelaughter.
The man doesn't stop, in fact, he seems to enjoyhimself more and more as he sees Luana's reaction. Every time shethinks she's reached her limit, he increases the pressure slightly orchanges the angle of his feathers, pushing her beyond any limits ofendurance.
After several minutes of this incessanttorment with the feathers, the man drops the objects to the floorwith a soft thud. Luana, still shaken by residual laughter and sobs,thinks for a moment that maybe it's over. But her hope lasts only aninstant.
With surprising speed and cruel precision, the manreaches out with both hands and sinks his fingers directly underLuana's exposed armpits. The direct contact of her sensitive skinwith the man's hands is a hundred times worse than the feathers. Herbody reacts immediately, as if it had been shocked by an electricshock.
"NOOO!" Luana screams, her high-pitched voicereverberating in the room as she begins to writhe violently in herchair. Her explosive laughter mixes with her screams, making itimpossible to distinguish one from the other. "AHAHAHA... STOPIT... AHAHAHA!"
Her laughter is forced, uncontrollable,and every attempt to hold it in fails miserably. Her body thrashesdesperately, but the bonds continue to hold her firmly in place. Eachthrust of the man's fingers seems to go deeper and deeper, amplifyingthe tickling to unbearable levels.
"HELP... AHAHAHA...PLEASE... AHAHAHAHA!" she pleads between hysterical laughter,feeling tears roll down her cheeks as she continues to laugh andscream nonstop.
The man shows no mercy, instead increasing thepace of his assault, running his fingers back and forth under botharmpits at the same time. Each movement is designed to maximizediscomfort, and Luana can no longer distinguish between fear, shame,and the ridiculous sense of involuntary pleasure that her traitorousbody inflicts on her.
The man shows no signs of stopping, hisfingers working relentlessly under Luana's exposed armpits, notgiving her a single moment of respite. Every touch of his hands is anew wave of torment, and Luana's body reacts in an increasinglyconvulsive way, shaken by forced laughter and uncontrollablespasms.
"STOP IT... PLEASE!" Luana screams with avoice choked with laughter, as she wriggles in the chair, herattempts to escape thwarted by the ties holding her still. "ICAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE... AHAHAHA!"
Tears flow copiouslydown her cheeks, mixing with the hysterical laughter that comes outof her chest in a continuous flow. Every single fiber of her beingscreams in discomfort and pain, but her traitorous body continues toreact to the tickling with frenetic movements and laughter muffled bydesperation.
"I BEGIVE YOU... AHAHAHA... ENOUGH!"Her voice breaks into a moan as she tries in vain to pull away, eventhough she knows there is no escape. The weight of her arms held highand still adds another form of tension to her already overwhelmednervous system.
The man, impassive, shows no sign of mercy. Hecontinues to move his fingers with cruel precision, focused on hisgoal. Each second seems to last an eternity for Luana, and everymoment of momentary relief is immediately erased by a new assault onher sensitive armpits.
The room echoes with her screams andmuffled laughter, as she struggles against her body, trying to resistthe relentless assault. But every effort is futile: the tormentcontinues, relentless.
After what seems like an eternity, buthas actually been an interminable ten minutes, the man finally pullshis hands away. The sudden silence in the room is almost deafeningafter the chaos of laughter, pleas, and sobs that has filled theair.
Luana remains still in the chair, panting, her chestrising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath. Everymuscle in her body is tense and sore from the effort of resisting therelentless assault. Her armpits still throb with extreme sensitivity,and every small movement of her shoulders sends a pang of residualdiscomfort.
Sweat beads on her forehead and runs down herface, mixing with her undried tears. Her brown hair, slightly escapedfrom her elegant hairstyle, falls over her soaked face, sticking toher damp skin. Her wedding dress, now crumpled and stained withtears, clings to her body with sweat, further highlighting hervulnerability.
She breathes hard, trying to calm her racingheartbeat. Each breath seems to require an immense effort, as if herbody has reached the limit of its endurance. Her red eyes stare intospace, still shaken by the traumatic experience she has justlived.
The man slowly moves behind her, watching her with anindecipherable expression. He says nothing, simply studying Luana'sexhausted figure, as if he is evaluating the success of his plan. Thesilence that follows is heavy, full of tension anduncertainty.
Luana closes her eyes, trying to find a shred ofcalm in the midst of the whirlwind of emotions that overwhelm her.But she knows well that her nightmare may not be over yet.
While Luana is still struggling tocatch her breath, her lungs burning with effort and her body shakingwith residual tremors, she feels a movement in front of her. Slowly,the man moves again, this time positioning himself at the foot of thechair, directly in front of her.
With great difficulty, Luanaraises her gaze to him, and their eyes meet across the dimly litroom. The man smiles, a slow, enigmatic smile that makes her bloodrun cold despite the heat of the sweat still beading herskin.
Luana's heart begins to race again, despite having justovercome a tickle attack that has left her exhausted. Every fiber ofher being screams at her to be alert, but the bonds and herimmobilized position prevent her from reacting effectively.
Theman does nothing for the moment, simply staring at her with thatcold, calculating smile. His stillness is almost more disturbing thanhis previous actions, as if he were planning something evenworse.
Luana swallows hard, trying to speak despite her dry,sore throat. "W-what do you want to do now?" she stammers,her voice shaking and hoarse from the effort and fear.
Theman's smile widens slightly, but he says nothing. He simply standsthere, standing at the foot of the chair, watching her with a gazethat seems to pierce her. The silence between them is tense, eachpassing second amplifying Luana's growing anxiety.
“Please… no,” Luana whispers, hervoice a faint stammer as she understands all too well what the manhas in mind. Her eyes widen in terror, and every muscle in her bodytenses in futile protest against the bonds holding her down. “Don’t…I beg you…”
But her words only seem to amuse the man,whose smile grows even wider and crueler. With slow, deliberate,almost theatrical movements, he leans toward Luana’s feet. Shefeels her heart race, pounding in her chest, each breath becomingmore labored as she watches him approach.
With extreme calm,the man delicately grasps one of the wedding shoes with both hands.Luana’s eyes narrow, anticipating the inevitable, but she can donothing to stop him. The shoe is gently brushed away from her leftfoot, revealing her toes ominously still, wrapped in the transparencyof her tights.
A shiver of fear runs down Luana’s spine asthe man repeats the operation with the other shoe, leaving hercompletely exposed. Now her delicate and perfectly manicured feet arevisible under the light fabric of the tights. Despite the situation,she can’t help but feel even more vulnerable, as if every layer ofprotection has been gradually removed.
The man stands upslightly, holding the two shoes in his hand, and looks at Luana witha look full of mischievous satisfaction. “Let’s see how good youare at resisting here too,” he says, his voice low and sharp as aknife.
Luana opens her eyes, tears streaking her sweaty faceagain. She knows she won’t be able to put up any resistance: herfeet are perhaps the most sensitive part of her body, and she knowsthat any touch, even the lightest, could make her collapse in awhirlwind of laughter and despair.
The man bends down again, this timewith an almost hypnotic expression on his face. Extremely slowly, asif he were savoring every second of that moment, he reaches out ahand towards Luana's left foot. She feels her breathing become moreand more labored, while the tears continue to flow inexorably downher cheeks.
The first brush of the man's fingers on the soleof her foot is light, almost imperceptible, but through the delicacyof the tights, the sensation is amplified to the maximum. The thinfabric transmits every minimal movement, every slight pressure,directly to her hypersensitive skin.
Luana holds her breath,desperately trying to remain still, but her traitorous body reactsimmediately. A violent shiver runs down her leg, followed by aninvoluntary contraction of the muscles of her foot. Despite herefforts, a stifled sob escapes her lips, mixed with a trembling laughthat she can't control.
The man smiles contentedly, slightlyincreasing the pressure of his fingers. Now he moves slowly back andforth along the sole of her foot, focusing particular attention onthe most sensitive points: between the toes, around the arch, up tothe heel. Each touch seems to last an eternity, and each second addsa new layer of discomfort and anguish.
"NO... PLEASE..."Luana whispers, her voice broken by tears and tension. But her wordsfall on deaf ears, as the man moves on to her right foot, repeatingthe same process with the same cruel precision.
The tights,which before were just a detail of her clothing, now seem like anadditional prison, trapping every nerve fiber under the insistenttouch of the man's fingers. The sensation becomes more and moreunbearable, and Luana feels her control slipping away, millimeter bymillimeter.
With a sudden movement, the man picksup the pace, quickly moving from an almost hypnotic delicacy to adirect and relentless assault. Both hands are busy now, his fingersdancing frantically on the soles of Luana's feet, leaving no partimmune to their touch.
"NOOOO!" Luana screams at thetop of her lungs, her voice breaking between hysterical laughter anddesperate sobs. Her body thrashes violently on the chair, the bondsmarking her skin as she tries in vain to free herself. But everymovement seems only to amplify the tickling, every attempt to escapetransformed into an opportunity for the man to intensify thetorment.
"STOP... AHAHAHA... PLEASE... NOOO!" Herscreams echo in the room, mixed with uncontrollable laughter thatcomes from the depths of her being. There is no more room for shameor dignity; every fiber of her body is overwhelmed by a wave of totalpanic.
The tights, which before seemed like a simple layer ofprotection, now act as a second, sensitized skin, transforming everytouch of the man's fingers into an explosion of unbearablesensations. Luana feels the tears running down her cheeks, mixingwith the cold sweat that beads her forehead.
The panic growsinside her, fueled by the impossibility of escaping the man'ssadistic touch. Every breath is labored, every sound emitting achaotic mix of laughter, screams and pleas. Her body is completelyout of control, contorting spasmodically as she desperately tries toget away from the man's hands.
"HELP... AHAHAHA... ICAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE..." Her voice breaks into a strangledmoan, but the man shows no sign of mercy. He continues to move hisfingers with cruel precision, focused on his goal as if nothing inthe world could distract him.
The tickling continues relentlessly,each passing second feeling like an eternity to Luana. Her pleasbecome more and more desperate, her words blurring into a litany ofpain and anguish.
"I BEGIVE YOU... AHHHH... HAVE MERCY ONME!" she screams in a broken voice, tears streaming down herface nonstop. "I'M IN HURRY... THIS IS NOT FUN... PLEASE!"
Sheviolently pulls her bound arms above her head, trying to tear herselffree from the bonds holding her still. Every movement shakes themetal chair, but the bonds don't give an inch. Her body writhes inuncontrollable spasms, while forced laughter mixes with screams ofpure terror.
"HELP ME... SOMEONE... AHAHAHA..." Hervoice fades into a strangled sob, as she tries in vain to find afoothold in reality. Every fiber of her being is focused on fightingthe torment, but every attempt is in vain. The tights continue toamplify the touch of the man's fingers, making each touch even moreunbearable.
The man, impassive, says nothing. He offers nowords of comfort, nor does he show any signs of pity. He continues tomove his fingers with cruel precision, as if he were completelyindifferent to her suffering. His every gesture is designed tomaximize Luana's discomfort, and she knows full well that there willbe no respite until she has completely exhausted her resistance.
Theroom is filled with her screams and hysterical laughter, a chorus ofdesperation that reverberates against the cold walls. Every breathseems increasingly difficult, every sound that emits a testimony toher torment. And yet, the man does not stop. He continues, withoutrest, without mercy.
After a moment’s pause, the manstops, interrupting the tickling for a brief moment. Luana, pantingand still reeling from residual spasms, tries to take advantage ofthe lull to catch her breath and try to reason with him. But beforeshe can say anything, she sees the man delicately take a small pieceof the pantyhose between his fingers under her toes.
With aquick, precise movement, he tears a small piece of the fabric onLuana’s feet, creating a slit just below her toes. He repeats theaction on the other foot, leaving her even more exposed. The directcontact of the air on her sensitive skin makes Luana shiver, furtheramplifying her vulnerability.
“Please,” Luana says in abroken voice, trying to keep her tone calm despite the panic thatstill pervades her. “What do you want from me? Why are you doingthis? I’m just a normal person… I haven’t done anythingwrong.”
The man doesn’t respond immediately. He slowlystands up, walking toward the spot where he dropped the two feathersearlier. He picks them up carefully, carefully studying Luana'sreaction as he does so.
"Please," she continues, hervoice shaking but filled with sincere desperation. "If you havea problem with me or someone I know, tell me. We can talk, find asolution. There's no point in doing this... I beg you, stop."
Buther words seem to fall on deaf ears. The man turns back to her, thefeathers now clutched in his hands, and an unreadable expressionappears on his face. No trace of pity, no sign of repentance. Justcold determination.
The man kneels at Luana's feet again,the feathers now ready between his toes. With almost surgicalprecision, he begins to delicately insert the tips of the feathersinto the small holes he has created in her tights, directly touchingthe bare, hypersensitive skin beneath Luana's toes.
The directcontact of the feather on her exposed skin is an explosion ofsensations for her, far more intense than anything she has feltbefore. Her body reacts immediately, writhing violently in the chairas a wave of hysterical laughter and sobs escapes herthroat.
"NOOO... AHAHAHA... DON'T DO IT!" Luanascreams, her voice choked with laughter and panic. Every attempt toresist is in vain; her body is completely out of control, shaken byuncontrollable spasms. Tears continue to flow copiously down hercheeks, mixing with the cold sweat that beads her forehead.
Theman shows no mercy, moving the feathers ever so slowly inside theopenings in her tights. Every movement is designed to maximize thediscomfort, every brush a new blow to her already fragile resistance.The sensation is unbearable, amplified by the delicacy of the featherand the vulnerability of her position.
"STOP... PLEASE...AHAHAHA..." Her words are lost in another wave of forcedlaughter, as she tries in vain to pull away, even though she knowsthe bonds will leave her no escape. Her chest rises and fallsrapidly, panting, as she continues to plead, with no hope of beingheard.
Every second seems to last an eternity, and every touchof the feathers adds a new layer of torment to her alreadyoverwhelmed mind. The man continues, impassive, carefully observingevery reaction of her face, as if he were conducting a cruelexperiment on a defenseless subject.
Time seems to stretch as the mancontinues to use the feathers with relentless precision. Every minutethat passes is an endless agony for Luana, her body shaken byhysterical laughter and desperate sobs. The tears do not stopflowing, mixing with the sweat that soaks her face and her nowcrumpled wedding dress.
"I CAN'T ANYMORE... AHAHAHA...STOP..." she pleads endlessly, but her words are drowned out bythe forced laughter that comes out against her will. Her chest risesand falls frantically, each breath a desperate attempt to fill herlungs as her body continues to wriggle in the chair.
Afterwhat seems like an eternity, finally, after twenty endless minutes,the man retracts the feathers. The sudden silence in the room isalmost deafening, broken only by Luana's broken sobs. She remainsstill, completely exhausted, her body still shaken by slight residualspasms. Every muscle is tense and sore, and her mind is a confusedwhirlwind of emotions: terror, shame, helplessness.
The manslowly stands up, without saying a word, and heads for the door. Hedoesn't look back, leaving Luana alone in the cold, dark room. Thedoor closes with a slight creak, leaving her completely alone withher thoughts and her suffering.
Luana bursts intouncontrollable tears, her shoulders shaking with violent sobs. Everyfiber of her being cries out in agony, yet she knows it might not beover yet. She remains there, tied to the chair, vulnerable andhelpless, wondering what else awaits her in that dark, cruel place.
