cosquiheyooo
Registered User
- Joined
- Jan 24, 2022
- Messages
- 17
- Points
- 0
This chapter contains:
This chapter does not contain any characters under 18
years, nor does any other chapter.
Previous chapter: Ch. 2 Something to Drink?
Shining Sea Resort
Chapter 3: True Sin
The elevator carrying the three women
reaches the lowest floor, B3.
They exit into a large hall, almost a tunnel,
sufficiently spacious to allow
several small groups of people
to pass each other without issue.
Along the walls of the hall,
double doors are spaced out every 20 meters.
It would be quite an imposing task
to find the correct wing
if it weren’t for Lorena
—the diva’s name, Isabel learned
while they were waiting at the reception desk before.
She only needed to take a quick glance
at the suite number (K1220) written on the envelope
containing the key cards
to know exactly which elevator to take
and exactly which doors they need.
Isabel notices during the walk
how calm it feels down here.
While the energy and sounds
of excitement and mischief still exist,
they can’t compare with the roar
of the main floor.
The lights are normal,
and the painted stone walls
give the air a certain freshness
and make the space feel grounded.
To Isabel, it seems like a good place to clear one’s mind
on the way from one insanity to another.
On the other side of the doors to the K wing,
a much smaller hallway branches off from the first.
Doors to roughly fifty suites
extend all the way to the back of the hallway,
where it turns to the right.
After the turn, the three women arrive at suite K1220.
Isabel touches the envelope with the key cards
against a small, black panel built into the door,
and with two satisfying clicks,
the lock deactivates.
<music:
‘El
Bandido’ by Nicolas Jaar>
Upon entering, Isabel takes a moment
to orient herself to the space.
The main living room is quite spacious,
almost the size of an apartment by itself.
Several lamps are already lit
on either side of a sofa and two armchairs
as well as several pendant lights
hanging over the counter of the open kitchen
illuminating the warm-purple walls.
Where windows would normally be,
there are aquariums lit by electric-blue lights.
After absently noticing her luggage,
moved to the suite as the staff promised,
her attention is drawn to the many circular metal rings
affixed to the furniture, the floor, and the walls in several spots.
“Alright, let’s see what we have to work with”
Lorena says and passes by Isabel’s side.
Isabel’s gaze follows her
as she heads straight for the far side of the room,
but then she is distracted by a piece of furniture
at the center of the common area.
At first it seems like a very modern style of coffee table
with several different levels, but upon further examination.
she sees that this isn’t the case.
Her first guess is that it’s an abstract statue,
but upon seeing two handcuffs
she dares to believe that this could be
some kind of elegant bondage device.
The body is made of silver,
and it’s shaped like the curved back of a horse.
The cuffs that Isabel saw are resting
on one of two flat, level sections
that extend in front of and behind the silver mass.
Past the two cuffs on the front section,
there are two handles for victims to grasp.
About two feet above the rear section,
there’s a pair of stocks facing upwards
and a pair of foot and toe clamps
just like the ones bolted to the bar from before.
Isabel approaches the thing slowly in amazement.
Meanwhile, Rita enters the room,
taking big large swigs from a bottle
turned completely upside-down above her face.
She places a backpack that she’s carrying on one shoulder
against the wall next to the door.
She’s still has nothing on but her bomber jacket
and her underwear.
“So where are we going then?” she asks the duo.
“You know damn well,” Lorena responds from the back of the room,
looking through the door into a different room. “Into the dunge—”
“What … is … this?”Isabel interrupts dramatically,
having reached the apparatus.
“That?” Lorena responds, surprised.
She looks pensively through the door one more time
and then smiles kindly and closes it.
“The Shark’s Fin. A design that never fails.
It doesn’t offer too many options, but the ones it does offer
are delicious.”
She approaches Isabel and the apparatus
and places a hand on the metal.
“What are the options?” asks Isabel,
captivated by the glimmer of this silver aberration.
“Face-up or face-down.”
“Do I sense that the ladies need a demonstration?”
Rita inquires cheerily,
leaning over the back of one of the armchairs
with her arms crossed.
“It’s up to you,”Lorena says to Isabel.
“Sure. I do need a demonstration.
And I’m real tired of this little fairy walking free.”
“Well, first of all … meow," Rita responds.
“I’m tired of it, too.
Can I make a request?”
“For your sake, I hope it’s ‘face-down’,” Isabel demands.
Rita was already starting to get flushed before.
Now she lets out a giggle, tilts her head,
bites her lip and looks straight at Isabel
with unmistakable bedroom eyes.
“That works,”she coos in response.
Isabel feels a peculiar magnetism
in Rita’s gaze.
She feels that the stars and the cosmos themselves
are roaring behind her eyes, telling her
“This woman is yours. Take her.”
“But no, it’s something else,” Rita continues.
“I have a playlist, on my phone.
I like to listen to it while I’m getting utterly fucked.
May I?”
“A playlist? Hm, I don’t know.
It really depends, I guess,” Isabel responds.
In truth, it’s a cute idea,
but she doesn’t want to get stuck
with some shit playlist all night.
She looks at Lorena.
Her eyes are still hidden behind her sunglasses,
she’s raised her eyebrows.
Rita raises a single eyebrow,
a bit annoyed by their doubts,
and quickly searches for the playlist on her phone.
They listen to a few seconds of the first song.
<music:
‘blood
to gold’ by slenderbodies>
“Yep, I’m fine with it,” Lorena says decisively.
“Alright, it can stay. Now get over here, little one," Isabel demands.
“With pleasure, ma’am” Rita sings.
*** *** ***
Isabel finishes securing Rita’s hands.
Her arms are stretched forward tightly,
and the naked skin of her chest and stomach
are pressed firmly against the icy metal
of the proverbial “shark’s fin.”
Having already finished carefully placing
her feet into the clamps,
Lorena fiddles with some controls on the wall
and reduces the lights to a dim blue.
Isabel delicately grazes Rita’s left arm
with her nails, and then her shoulder and collarbone.
There’s nothing left to prepare.
She takes a slow, deep breath
and positions the fingers of one hand under Rita’s armpit
just barely touching.
Rita begins to breath faster and smiles slyly.
She turns her head as far as she can to look at Isabel,
but she only manages to see up to her imposing breasts.
She waits eagerly for Isabel to say something commanding
to kick off the festivities.
Suddenly, Lorena has appeared behind her.
“Time to sing, baby.”
Rita squeals in surprise less than a second later
as Lorena starts working furiously
on the base of her spine
with the fuzzy fingertips of her gloves.
“What—? What the fuck?!”
Rita stammers with panic in her voice
as the first few giggles of a growing stream
of uncontrollable laughter escape her.
“Who goes straight for the back?!”
she begs to know in horror.
“Professionals,” Lorena responds cheekily.
Her fingers move in unison,
rapidly opening and closing, opening and closing.
They trace beautiful squiggles from her spine
to her hip bones.
“Well, here we go then,” Isabel says with total composure.
She fires up her fingers under Rita’s armpit
and employs the fingers of her other hand
to begin scratching the back of her neck.
“Nononono!”Rita squeals
before truly losing herself completely
in the desperate laughter.
Every sound she makes uses
the full strength of her lungs.
She’s incapable of escaping their attacks even a tiny bit
—though she can move her head a bit,
Isabel’s knife-like nails move on
to her collarbones and her ears
until she reveals the back of her neck all over again,
and she can’t even arch her back at all
because her legs are folded up at the knee
and she can’t overcome the tension even a single inch.
Neither of her tormentors are satisfied
to remain in one place.
Rita can’t get used to any sensation
for more than three or four seconds
before the attacks have changed completely.
With her armpits so exposed and immobile,
Isabel has no problem reaching the one on the right
without needing to walk around to the other side.
Rita struggles desperately against the handcuffs,
but she only manages to uselessly wiggle her shoulders.
Isabel’s nails conjure diabolical wheels
that swirl from her armpits down to her hips
again and again and again.
“Fuck!” Rita shouts in a fleeting moment of consciousness.
“Stop—stop—stop—STOP!” she pants with sad eyes.
“Such a cutie, isn't she?” Isabel asks Lorena.
“Yes yes yesssss,” Lorena coos.
Both tormentors’ eyes are dilated wide.
“We all know that word doesn’t mean anything down here,”
Isabel says. “The only thing you’re accomplishing is flattering us.”
Lorena’s fingers move stealthily
to the crevice between her thighs and invade
like roots bursting through soil.
Rita feels a hypnotic warmth in her temples,
only vaguely conscious that she is still
laughing at the top of her lungs and thrashing wildly
with no end in sight.
“What are ... those gloves?!”
she manages to ask through her teeth.
Against the tender skin of her thighs,
it’s become clear that they’re not simply fuzzy.
There is a sharp sensation hidden
among the thousands of tingles from the fuzz,
focused entirely on a single point,
as small as the tip of a needle.
It seems like this force, whatever it may be,
totally ignores the surface of her skin
and plays with her nerves themselves.
"These? They’re an absolute good—and also a trade secret,”
Lorena responds.
“Get them off me! Oh my god, pleeeease get them off me!!”
Rita begs.
The urge to struggle against the torture
ricochets throughout her entire body
until she is left with no choice but to
lower her head and surrender to the newest wave
of frantic laughing and shrieking.
“Get them off you?” Lorena repeats sarcastically.
For a few moments, she doesn’t change anything at all.
Then something occurs to her, and she looks up.
“Okay baby, you’re right. It’s time for something else.”
She looks at Isabel.
"Darling, could you keep her busy for a few moments?”
“I think I can manage it,” Isabel says,
barely taking her eyes off of Rita for a second.
As Lorena walks towards her equipment bag,
Isabel climbs onto the apparatus and mounts Rita.
She leans down until the full weight of her torso
presses down against Rita’s bare back.
She slides her hands up her sides
and inserts them between Rita and the metal of the fin
with the tips of her nails resting precisely
on the border between her ribs and her breasts.
<music:
‘Dissolved
Girl’ by Massive Attack>
“What—? No, nonono … What are you doing??”
Rita begs to know.
“My … precious … little … fairy,”
Isabel growls in Rita’s right ear,
completely ignoring her question.
“My… delicate … little … fairy.”
With this, her nails begin scratching
and tearing open Rita’s universe.
Rita explodes in yet another fit of wild shrieks,
at times nearly sobbing.
For the first time, she bucks and thrashes
with her full strength.
Isabel’s ferocious nails
follow the curves of her breasts,
creeping closer and closer to her nipples.
Rita feels massive, jagged streaks of white light
violently slicing through her very reality,
crashing through the ceiling, the walls,
her skin, and her brain,
and a sort of weightless, golden plasma
bleeds from her wounds and floats away from her,
carrying everything that isn’t
electric tickling or passionate insanity
out of her body.
Because of this mental incapacity,
like a novice, Rita doesn’t realize that
Lorena has returned and is installing
small devices between her toes.
But after she installs the seventh device
Rita’s muscle memory jolts her awake.
“No—NO! WAIT!” she shouts, voice trembling,
eyes wide.
“Wait? For what?” Lorena asks
as she installs the final device.
A soft material like that of a stress ball
fills the gaps between the bases of her toes.
A huge quantity of tiny, densely clustered
one-inch filaments with rounded ends
protrude from the soft bodies of the devices,
making contact with hundreds of points
along every part of her toes, including the tops,
as well as a region of each of her soles
that extends an inch below the toes
and another to match on the top side of the foot.
“This is fucked up!” Rita whines.
“You’re one of those full—AHHH! HAHAAAA FUCK!
—those—full-time freaks, aren’t you?!» she accuses.
This catches Isabel’s attention
and wakes her ever so slightly from her predatory trance.
It also catches Lorena’s attention,
who looks up sharply from a tablet
with a custom, emerald-green case
with the words “You’re Fucked” in cursive.
“Careful, babe,”she warns her threateningly
and emphatically presses a button on the screen.
In unison, all of the devices begin to
vibrate and hum with impressive force.
The filaments vibrate so quickly
that they all blur together,
indistinguishable from each other.
Given that her toes are totally immobilized
by the fine wire of the clamps,
every single filament is fully successful
in attacking its minuscule target.
The laughter stops entirely. Now there are only screams,
interrupted by panting and occasional groans.
Lorena smiles in satisfaction.
Isabel is so fascinated that she abandons her work
for about ten seconds to stare intently at the scene.
Then her instincts regain control of her,
and she descends on Rita all over again.
No part of her torso is safe.
With her large hands,
she pinches thick handfuls of flesh
up and down her sides.
She again slides her hands between Rita and the metal
and terrorizes her collarbones, her neck,
and the underside of her chin from below.
Exhausted and thoroughly broken,
Rita just wants to surrender and allow the torture
to flow through her body without fighting it,
but this stimulation around her neck
fills her with a constant, involuntary panic
through every wretched moment of it.
Isabel gets comfortable here for a long while,
leaving the area from time to time
to move over to her armpits and tweak her nipples.
“How about it, darling? Missing my gloves yet?”
Lorena inquires as she takes a seat
with her back against Isabel’s hips,
facing Rita’s legs and feet.
“Please! … Please, no more please!”
Rita tries to beg, but the abuse has reduced her voice
to barely a whisper between shrieks.
“I can’t ev—AH SHIT!! No! NO! I CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER
MY FUCKING NAME!! HAHAAAAA! MERCY FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”
While Rita was talking, Lorena went back to work
with her trade secret gloves
on the undersides of Rita’s knees.
“Mercy?” Isabel asks incredulously.
“Darling, I don’t know how to say this — it’s only 9:30!
Relax, get comfortable. You can’t rush true sin.”
*** *** ***
<music:
‘Waiting
For’ de ayokay y slenderbodies>
An alarm sounds on Rita’s phone
too early in the morning.
She groggily grabs it off the floor
next to the bed and deactivates it.
She blinks a few times before looking down
and realizing that Lorena fell asleep
with her face snuggled against Rita’s thigh,
inches from her vagina,
still warming it with her breath.
“Ay mami ...” she whispers to herself
with butterflies in her stomach from the memory.
Upon looking over at Isabel,
she sees that she’s asleep on her side
with her gigantic feet a short distance
above Rita’s head,
thoroughly smeared with Rita’s makeup.
“I need to get out of here before I get myself fired,”
she murmurs.
She tries to get up and gather her things
without making any noise, passing by
the Shark’s Fin and all the toys
that were left scattered around it.
“Christ,” she mutters as the memories return to her.
“It was an absolute pleasure, dear,”
Lorena calls out sleepily.
“I’ll hunt you down again sometime.”
“Not if I do first!” Isabel calls out.
“I can’t wait,” Rita responds dreamily,
knowing full well that the two of them
mean two totally different things.
“Thanks much for the deflowering and all,”
she says with a wave of her hand.
“Any time!”Lorena calls back
as Rita closes the door behind her.
She enjoys a kind of magical stroll that can
only follow from a good night of slutting around.
She wears headphones over her ears
and steps with a lively, effortless rhythm
down the hall to the elevator.
She gets out on floor B2 and crosses a room
as big as a stadium, devoid of anyone but her,
sometimes breaking out into dance with her eyes closed
through the silence and the vastness and the dim light.
On the other side of the enormous room,
she leans down to touch the RFID scanner with her tag.
The doors to another elevator open,
and she selects floor B4.
At the security checkpoint on floor B4,
there are only guards, who seem quite relaxed.
“Morning.Had a good night then?”
one of the guards asks like he would with a friend.
Rita places her backpack, her electronics, and her jacket
(still the only thing she’s wearing besides her underwear)
onto a conveyor belt
and crosses through one of four metal detectors.
“As always,” she responds with satisfaction.
A few seconds later,
her things reach the other side of the belt.
“You’re all good,” the guard tells her.
“Thanks. Have a good one, lads.” Rita says
before taking her things
and entering the train station.
A small, empty train with open doors awaits her.
She chooses a window seat on the far side
and puts her headphones back on.
Before long, the doors close,
and the train begins to move.
Rita props her feet up on the seat across from her
and rests her head against the window, gazing out at
the vibrant colors in the skyline of her beloved city
as the train begins its spiral descent
down the walls of the old quarry.
WELCOME TO SHINING SEA RESORT
(roll opening credits)
*** *** ***
To be continued!
Next chapter: coming soon!
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider supporting me on Patreon or Buy Me A Coffee! I need to get to at least $100 per month in support to be able to keep writing content monthly, so I hope you'll help me keep this series alive and strong!
Much love <3 Cosquiheyooo
- very intense tickle torture (FF/F), mainly upper body and toes
- extreme bondage (on a device of my own design)
- a few clues about what’s to come
- excellent music recommendations (I really recommend that you
listen to them with this chapter, even if you don’t with other chapters)
This chapter does not contain any characters under 18
years, nor does any other chapter.
Previous chapter: Ch. 2 Something to Drink?
Shining Sea Resort
Chapter 3: True Sin
The elevator carrying the three women
reaches the lowest floor, B3.
They exit into a large hall, almost a tunnel,
sufficiently spacious to allow
several small groups of people
to pass each other without issue.
Along the walls of the hall,
double doors are spaced out every 20 meters.
It would be quite an imposing task
to find the correct wing
if it weren’t for Lorena
—the diva’s name, Isabel learned
while they were waiting at the reception desk before.
She only needed to take a quick glance
at the suite number (K1220) written on the envelope
containing the key cards
to know exactly which elevator to take
and exactly which doors they need.
Isabel notices during the walk
how calm it feels down here.
While the energy and sounds
of excitement and mischief still exist,
they can’t compare with the roar
of the main floor.
The lights are normal,
and the painted stone walls
give the air a certain freshness
and make the space feel grounded.
To Isabel, it seems like a good place to clear one’s mind
on the way from one insanity to another.
On the other side of the doors to the K wing,
a much smaller hallway branches off from the first.
Doors to roughly fifty suites
extend all the way to the back of the hallway,
where it turns to the right.
After the turn, the three women arrive at suite K1220.
Isabel touches the envelope with the key cards
against a small, black panel built into the door,
and with two satisfying clicks,
the lock deactivates.
<music:
‘El
Bandido’ by Nicolas Jaar>
Upon entering, Isabel takes a moment
to orient herself to the space.
The main living room is quite spacious,
almost the size of an apartment by itself.
Several lamps are already lit
on either side of a sofa and two armchairs
as well as several pendant lights
hanging over the counter of the open kitchen
illuminating the warm-purple walls.
Where windows would normally be,
there are aquariums lit by electric-blue lights.
After absently noticing her luggage,
moved to the suite as the staff promised,
her attention is drawn to the many circular metal rings
affixed to the furniture, the floor, and the walls in several spots.
“Alright, let’s see what we have to work with”
Lorena says and passes by Isabel’s side.
Isabel’s gaze follows her
as she heads straight for the far side of the room,
but then she is distracted by a piece of furniture
at the center of the common area.
At first it seems like a very modern style of coffee table
with several different levels, but upon further examination.
she sees that this isn’t the case.
Her first guess is that it’s an abstract statue,
but upon seeing two handcuffs
she dares to believe that this could be
some kind of elegant bondage device.
The body is made of silver,
and it’s shaped like the curved back of a horse.
The cuffs that Isabel saw are resting
on one of two flat, level sections
that extend in front of and behind the silver mass.
Past the two cuffs on the front section,
there are two handles for victims to grasp.
About two feet above the rear section,
there’s a pair of stocks facing upwards
and a pair of foot and toe clamps
just like the ones bolted to the bar from before.
Isabel approaches the thing slowly in amazement.
Meanwhile, Rita enters the room,
taking big large swigs from a bottle
turned completely upside-down above her face.
She places a backpack that she’s carrying on one shoulder
against the wall next to the door.
She’s still has nothing on but her bomber jacket
and her underwear.
“So where are we going then?” she asks the duo.
“You know damn well,” Lorena responds from the back of the room,
looking through the door into a different room. “Into the dunge—”
“What … is … this?”Isabel interrupts dramatically,
having reached the apparatus.
“That?” Lorena responds, surprised.
She looks pensively through the door one more time
and then smiles kindly and closes it.
“The Shark’s Fin. A design that never fails.
It doesn’t offer too many options, but the ones it does offer
are delicious.”
She approaches Isabel and the apparatus
and places a hand on the metal.
“What are the options?” asks Isabel,
captivated by the glimmer of this silver aberration.
“Face-up or face-down.”
“Do I sense that the ladies need a demonstration?”
Rita inquires cheerily,
leaning over the back of one of the armchairs
with her arms crossed.
“It’s up to you,”Lorena says to Isabel.
“Sure. I do need a demonstration.
And I’m real tired of this little fairy walking free.”
“Well, first of all … meow," Rita responds.
“I’m tired of it, too.
Can I make a request?”
“For your sake, I hope it’s ‘face-down’,” Isabel demands.
Rita was already starting to get flushed before.
Now she lets out a giggle, tilts her head,
bites her lip and looks straight at Isabel
with unmistakable bedroom eyes.
“That works,”she coos in response.
Isabel feels a peculiar magnetism
in Rita’s gaze.
She feels that the stars and the cosmos themselves
are roaring behind her eyes, telling her
“This woman is yours. Take her.”
“But no, it’s something else,” Rita continues.
“I have a playlist, on my phone.
I like to listen to it while I’m getting utterly fucked.
May I?”
“A playlist? Hm, I don’t know.
It really depends, I guess,” Isabel responds.
In truth, it’s a cute idea,
but she doesn’t want to get stuck
with some shit playlist all night.
She looks at Lorena.
Her eyes are still hidden behind her sunglasses,
she’s raised her eyebrows.
Rita raises a single eyebrow,
a bit annoyed by their doubts,
and quickly searches for the playlist on her phone.
They listen to a few seconds of the first song.
<music:
‘blood
to gold’ by slenderbodies>
“Yep, I’m fine with it,” Lorena says decisively.
“Alright, it can stay. Now get over here, little one," Isabel demands.
“With pleasure, ma’am” Rita sings.
*** *** ***
Isabel finishes securing Rita’s hands.
Her arms are stretched forward tightly,
and the naked skin of her chest and stomach
are pressed firmly against the icy metal
of the proverbial “shark’s fin.”
Having already finished carefully placing
her feet into the clamps,
Lorena fiddles with some controls on the wall
and reduces the lights to a dim blue.
Isabel delicately grazes Rita’s left arm
with her nails, and then her shoulder and collarbone.
There’s nothing left to prepare.
She takes a slow, deep breath
and positions the fingers of one hand under Rita’s armpit
just barely touching.
Rita begins to breath faster and smiles slyly.
She turns her head as far as she can to look at Isabel,
but she only manages to see up to her imposing breasts.
She waits eagerly for Isabel to say something commanding
to kick off the festivities.
Suddenly, Lorena has appeared behind her.
“Time to sing, baby.”
Rita squeals in surprise less than a second later
as Lorena starts working furiously
on the base of her spine
with the fuzzy fingertips of her gloves.
“What—? What the fuck?!”
Rita stammers with panic in her voice
as the first few giggles of a growing stream
of uncontrollable laughter escape her.
“Who goes straight for the back?!”
she begs to know in horror.
“Professionals,” Lorena responds cheekily.
Her fingers move in unison,
rapidly opening and closing, opening and closing.
They trace beautiful squiggles from her spine
to her hip bones.
“Well, here we go then,” Isabel says with total composure.
She fires up her fingers under Rita’s armpit
and employs the fingers of her other hand
to begin scratching the back of her neck.
“Nononono!”Rita squeals
before truly losing herself completely
in the desperate laughter.
Every sound she makes uses
the full strength of her lungs.
She’s incapable of escaping their attacks even a tiny bit
—though she can move her head a bit,
Isabel’s knife-like nails move on
to her collarbones and her ears
until she reveals the back of her neck all over again,
and she can’t even arch her back at all
because her legs are folded up at the knee
and she can’t overcome the tension even a single inch.
Neither of her tormentors are satisfied
to remain in one place.
Rita can’t get used to any sensation
for more than three or four seconds
before the attacks have changed completely.
With her armpits so exposed and immobile,
Isabel has no problem reaching the one on the right
without needing to walk around to the other side.
Rita struggles desperately against the handcuffs,
but she only manages to uselessly wiggle her shoulders.
Isabel’s nails conjure diabolical wheels
that swirl from her armpits down to her hips
again and again and again.
“Fuck!” Rita shouts in a fleeting moment of consciousness.
“Stop—stop—stop—STOP!” she pants with sad eyes.
“Such a cutie, isn't she?” Isabel asks Lorena.
“Yes yes yesssss,” Lorena coos.
Both tormentors’ eyes are dilated wide.
“We all know that word doesn’t mean anything down here,”
Isabel says. “The only thing you’re accomplishing is flattering us.”
Lorena’s fingers move stealthily
to the crevice between her thighs and invade
like roots bursting through soil.
Rita feels a hypnotic warmth in her temples,
only vaguely conscious that she is still
laughing at the top of her lungs and thrashing wildly
with no end in sight.
“What are ... those gloves?!”
she manages to ask through her teeth.
Against the tender skin of her thighs,
it’s become clear that they’re not simply fuzzy.
There is a sharp sensation hidden
among the thousands of tingles from the fuzz,
focused entirely on a single point,
as small as the tip of a needle.
It seems like this force, whatever it may be,
totally ignores the surface of her skin
and plays with her nerves themselves.
"These? They’re an absolute good—and also a trade secret,”
Lorena responds.
“Get them off me! Oh my god, pleeeease get them off me!!”
Rita begs.
The urge to struggle against the torture
ricochets throughout her entire body
until she is left with no choice but to
lower her head and surrender to the newest wave
of frantic laughing and shrieking.
“Get them off you?” Lorena repeats sarcastically.
For a few moments, she doesn’t change anything at all.
Then something occurs to her, and she looks up.
“Okay baby, you’re right. It’s time for something else.”
She looks at Isabel.
"Darling, could you keep her busy for a few moments?”
“I think I can manage it,” Isabel says,
barely taking her eyes off of Rita for a second.
As Lorena walks towards her equipment bag,
Isabel climbs onto the apparatus and mounts Rita.
She leans down until the full weight of her torso
presses down against Rita’s bare back.
She slides her hands up her sides
and inserts them between Rita and the metal of the fin
with the tips of her nails resting precisely
on the border between her ribs and her breasts.
<music:
‘Dissolved
Girl’ by Massive Attack>
“What—? No, nonono … What are you doing??”
Rita begs to know.
“My … precious … little … fairy,”
Isabel growls in Rita’s right ear,
completely ignoring her question.
“My… delicate … little … fairy.”
With this, her nails begin scratching
and tearing open Rita’s universe.
Rita explodes in yet another fit of wild shrieks,
at times nearly sobbing.
For the first time, she bucks and thrashes
with her full strength.
Isabel’s ferocious nails
follow the curves of her breasts,
creeping closer and closer to her nipples.
Rita feels massive, jagged streaks of white light
violently slicing through her very reality,
crashing through the ceiling, the walls,
her skin, and her brain,
and a sort of weightless, golden plasma
bleeds from her wounds and floats away from her,
carrying everything that isn’t
electric tickling or passionate insanity
out of her body.
Because of this mental incapacity,
like a novice, Rita doesn’t realize that
Lorena has returned and is installing
small devices between her toes.
But after she installs the seventh device
Rita’s muscle memory jolts her awake.
“No—NO! WAIT!” she shouts, voice trembling,
eyes wide.
“Wait? For what?” Lorena asks
as she installs the final device.
A soft material like that of a stress ball
fills the gaps between the bases of her toes.
A huge quantity of tiny, densely clustered
one-inch filaments with rounded ends
protrude from the soft bodies of the devices,
making contact with hundreds of points
along every part of her toes, including the tops,
as well as a region of each of her soles
that extends an inch below the toes
and another to match on the top side of the foot.
“This is fucked up!” Rita whines.
“You’re one of those full—AHHH! HAHAAAA FUCK!
—those—full-time freaks, aren’t you?!» she accuses.
This catches Isabel’s attention
and wakes her ever so slightly from her predatory trance.
It also catches Lorena’s attention,
who looks up sharply from a tablet
with a custom, emerald-green case
with the words “You’re Fucked” in cursive.
“Careful, babe,”she warns her threateningly
and emphatically presses a button on the screen.
In unison, all of the devices begin to
vibrate and hum with impressive force.
The filaments vibrate so quickly
that they all blur together,
indistinguishable from each other.
Given that her toes are totally immobilized
by the fine wire of the clamps,
every single filament is fully successful
in attacking its minuscule target.
The laughter stops entirely. Now there are only screams,
interrupted by panting and occasional groans.
Lorena smiles in satisfaction.
Isabel is so fascinated that she abandons her work
for about ten seconds to stare intently at the scene.
Then her instincts regain control of her,
and she descends on Rita all over again.
No part of her torso is safe.
With her large hands,
she pinches thick handfuls of flesh
up and down her sides.
She again slides her hands between Rita and the metal
and terrorizes her collarbones, her neck,
and the underside of her chin from below.
Exhausted and thoroughly broken,
Rita just wants to surrender and allow the torture
to flow through her body without fighting it,
but this stimulation around her neck
fills her with a constant, involuntary panic
through every wretched moment of it.
Isabel gets comfortable here for a long while,
leaving the area from time to time
to move over to her armpits and tweak her nipples.
“How about it, darling? Missing my gloves yet?”
Lorena inquires as she takes a seat
with her back against Isabel’s hips,
facing Rita’s legs and feet.
“Please! … Please, no more please!”
Rita tries to beg, but the abuse has reduced her voice
to barely a whisper between shrieks.
“I can’t ev—AH SHIT!! No! NO! I CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER
MY FUCKING NAME!! HAHAAAAA! MERCY FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”
While Rita was talking, Lorena went back to work
with her trade secret gloves
on the undersides of Rita’s knees.
“Mercy?” Isabel asks incredulously.
“Darling, I don’t know how to say this — it’s only 9:30!
Relax, get comfortable. You can’t rush true sin.”
*** *** ***
<music:
‘Waiting
For’ de ayokay y slenderbodies>
An alarm sounds on Rita’s phone
too early in the morning.
She groggily grabs it off the floor
next to the bed and deactivates it.
She blinks a few times before looking down
and realizing that Lorena fell asleep
with her face snuggled against Rita’s thigh,
inches from her vagina,
still warming it with her breath.
“Ay mami ...” she whispers to herself
with butterflies in her stomach from the memory.
Upon looking over at Isabel,
she sees that she’s asleep on her side
with her gigantic feet a short distance
above Rita’s head,
thoroughly smeared with Rita’s makeup.
“I need to get out of here before I get myself fired,”
she murmurs.
She tries to get up and gather her things
without making any noise, passing by
the Shark’s Fin and all the toys
that were left scattered around it.
“Christ,” she mutters as the memories return to her.
“It was an absolute pleasure, dear,”
Lorena calls out sleepily.
“I’ll hunt you down again sometime.”
“Not if I do first!” Isabel calls out.
“I can’t wait,” Rita responds dreamily,
knowing full well that the two of them
mean two totally different things.
“Thanks much for the deflowering and all,”
she says with a wave of her hand.
“Any time!”Lorena calls back
as Rita closes the door behind her.
She enjoys a kind of magical stroll that can
only follow from a good night of slutting around.
She wears headphones over her ears
and steps with a lively, effortless rhythm
down the hall to the elevator.
She gets out on floor B2 and crosses a room
as big as a stadium, devoid of anyone but her,
sometimes breaking out into dance with her eyes closed
through the silence and the vastness and the dim light.
On the other side of the enormous room,
she leans down to touch the RFID scanner with her tag.
The doors to another elevator open,
and she selects floor B4.
At the security checkpoint on floor B4,
there are only guards, who seem quite relaxed.
“Morning.Had a good night then?”
one of the guards asks like he would with a friend.
Rita places her backpack, her electronics, and her jacket
(still the only thing she’s wearing besides her underwear)
onto a conveyor belt
and crosses through one of four metal detectors.
“As always,” she responds with satisfaction.
A few seconds later,
her things reach the other side of the belt.
“You’re all good,” the guard tells her.
“Thanks. Have a good one, lads.” Rita says
before taking her things
and entering the train station.
A small, empty train with open doors awaits her.
She chooses a window seat on the far side
and puts her headphones back on.
Before long, the doors close,
and the train begins to move.
Rita props her feet up on the seat across from her
and rests her head against the window, gazing out at
the vibrant colors in the skyline of her beloved city
as the train begins its spiral descent
down the walls of the old quarry.
WELCOME TO SHINING SEA RESORT
(roll opening credits)
*** *** ***
To be continued!
Next chapter: coming soon!
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider supporting me on Patreon or Buy Me A Coffee! I need to get to at least $100 per month in support to be able to keep writing content monthly, so I hope you'll help me keep this series alive and strong!
Much love <3 Cosquiheyooo
