waterman
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2006
- Messages
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A happy new year by ticklescenes.com
Madelyn slowly reopened her eyes. She had gone from one darkness to another: that of the night when she had been forcibly taken from her modest home by unrecognizable men, to that of a cold, damp cell.
She could have no doubt about her condition. Her limbs ached, she was sitting on a hard wooden chair, her arms and legs appeared immobilized by firm restraints.
The air smelled of rat droppings, in the distance could be heard soft cries, desperate wailing, sad men's pleas for forgiveness to their mothers and Almighty God.
A conception of the Most High she did not share. It had been her mother and sisters who had explained to her the mysteries of nature, hidden truths not found in either the Bible of the Church of Rome or that of other denominations.
Her reflections were interrupted by the sound of moving latches. A few determined footsteps started in his direction, and a handful of torches on the walls were lit.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, the situation in which she found herself became tragically clear to her. A few churchmen watched her gravely, led by a wrinkled old man with a gray beard whose clothing revealed his macabre function.
“When you embarked on the path laid out by Satan, you knew that the day would come when you would face God's justice, justice that will be carried out at our hands. I am Father Merkel, of the Office of the Holy Inquisition, and I am in charge of your interrogation.
Mr. Kreuzel, the officer you see at my side, is here to see that the procedure takes place according to the protocols laid down in the Law.”
Upon hearing that the inquisitor was using the plural, Madelyn turned her gaze to her left, and noticed that another woman was situated at her side, tied to a cold wooden table and immobilized in several places. A thin woman, her body marked by age no longer young, her mother's face.
At the sight of her nakedness, he noticed that both were unclothed. A common practice, undressing female prisoners. The condemned women were to be stripped of all dignity, weakened in their resistance, in order to reduce interrogation to the shortest possible time and facilitate confession.
“Martha and Madelyn Karnek. You are accused of having rejected the eternal goodness of our Lord Jesus Christ and of having embraced the doctrine of the Devil his eternal rival. Your worship is already known to us. The abominable demon Grinner whom you worship in your hellish sabbaths in the heart of the Black Forest imparts teachings to you contrary to the sound doctrine of the blessed ones.”
One of the friars behind the inquisitor, a fat man with no hair, approached and took the floor. “In my long practice as an exorcist, I have accumulated considerable knowledge about the demon of infernal laughter. It transmits to you abominable practices that deny Christian morality. You indulge in sex and amusement to remove him from the hell to which he is rightly confined and call him back to this world. But, today, this will end. We will extirpate evil from you by force, and we will eradicate it with the help of the Most Holy Truth.”
Madelyn and the members of her cult had a reputation for being extremely grim and secretive women. Unbeknownst to all, this was a strict dictate of their cult. Laughter was the most effective form of prayer in Grinner's honor. During wild sabbaths, he granted knowledge and powers to his female followers. But Madelyn could think of no rituals that could remove her from that dreadful situation.
“Do you want to shorten your suffering and summon the demon now, witch?” asked Father Merkel of the young woman ”If you do so and allow us to neutralize it, we will take that into account at the verdict.”
“Your religion of weeping and suffering makes us vomit! Go to hell!” vehemently intervened Martha, perhaps hoping to remove her daughter from those unwelcome attentions.
“Hell to which you belong, harlot? Well, we'll start with you. Observe, Madelyn Karnek, how your mother will repent of her own debauchery.”
At a nod from the inquisitor, a soldier stepped forward, dragging a young goat with him.
“This God-fearing animal will help you find some relief in your present condition,” sneered the inquisitor. Suspiciously, the old woman watched another man smear the contents of a bowl on the soles of her feet with a brush. Apart from a brief quiver from the cold contact of the bristle and the undulating motion of the brush, she preferred no sound.
“Feel free to laugh whenever you want,” the cruel clergyman urged her, with anything but reassurance.
“Go fuck your mothers! I...” the woman tried to threaten them, but her railing was nipped in the bud. Once she sensed the salty, sweetish smell on the soles of the woman's feet, the goat moved quickly toward them and took to licking them.
Martha turned her gaze toward her daughter, naked and chained and like herself, and noticed how he stared at her in a mixture of fear and hope. He had to give her the strength to resist at all costs. But the goat, inexorably driven by the flavor of which she was greedy, was the perfect tool to force her to laugh against her will.
The tickling had begun forcefully, and the old woman, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, could not quite manage it.
Madelyn watched her mother's face slowly transform from a mask of seriousness into a grin devoid of joy and smugness. Her eyes closed, her body tossed up and down, subdued gurgles emerged from her throat.
“Ighgh...ghgh...hihihi!” were the first verses that began to come out of her mouth.
At that sign of triumph, the inquisitor had more salty cream applied, drawing the goat's ravenous attention. At those constant urges, the woman relented.
“Ahahaha! Nohohoh! Enough, enough! Ahahaha!” the poor woman found herself exclaiming.
“Can you see it's not that bad? Don't mind us, laugh all you want!”
Martha summoned all her strength and clenched her mouth tightly until her lips bled. She shook her head deeply in denial, but her body did not intend to support her. Her feet seemed to go mad and she forced the ligatures, trying futilely to escape the torment.
“Can you confirm, Mr. Kreuzel, that the witch was not harmed a hair?” the inquisitor asked his companion.
“Quite so, Father. In fact, I would go so far as to say that she is even enjoying herself!” replied the officer with a sadistic sneer.
The interrogation of two suspects at the same time was no accident. The expert torturers had anticipated resistance from the two women. Subjecting one victim to the sight of the other who had already succumbed served to sap her resistance. And the plan was working. Madelyn felt invaded by fear, sadness and despondency. Seeing her mother forced against her will into laughter, a sacred gesture for them, deprived her of some of the strength that would otherwise have sustained her to resist.
“We have work to do here,” the inquisitor suddenly said, turning toward the young woman. Upon hearing this, two friars approached and, with feathers they held in their hands, began to stimulate her. At first they ventured to her neck and nose, with the obvious purpose of causing her only discomfort. The girl turned her head left and right, the sensitivity of her body betraying her. Then, they began to tease her chest and particularly her nipples, and then moved on to her abdomen and thighs. Madelyn noticed with disgust one of the old men, secluded, who at that sight introduced his hand under his cassock, to derive maximum enjoyment from it.
That pretty, pouty face showed the first signs of breaking down. As the feather did its work, a feeling of forced amusement made its way into the girl's heart. Madelyn tightened the corners of her mouth, which began to curve. That yearning, however, had not escaped the inquisitor.
“Do you feel it, witch, the repentance welling up inside you? Come on, give us your best laugh!”
As the old woman's choked laughter grew louder, the tormentors took action. One of them continued to run his feathers under her right armpit, while the left was targeted by the other's fingers. At that rough contact, Madelyn jerked as she tried to regain control of her body.
“So, pretty girl, don't you want us to hear how you laugh?” teased Father Merkel, grabbing her face.
But the girl gave him a furious look. Meanwhile, her armpits were being stormed by her torturers, with one hand assaulting her hips and the other digging into the tender crevices under her arms.
The poor girl took to writhing as her bare skin suffered the torment. Her fresh breasts jerked and her long brown hair moved back and forth following the movements of her head.
Madelyn huffed and forcefully suppressed the giggles that arose in her throat, but the effort was getting harder and harder. She was surrounded by men with grim gazes waiting to see her give in, while her mother made laughing pleas to her devoid of any mirth.
The coup de grace did not wait. The two torturers went to her lower extremities and began scratching her feet with their fingers.
“Uaahah, uaah! Ahahah ahaha, ghgh ihihi!” the girl took to shouting without any more restraint.
“She seems to be neighing, this mare!” exclaimed one of the men, arousing the hilarity of the others. The old man from before, in the face of that riot of female laughter, finished the work on her lower belly with a groan of pleasure that he struggled to premiere.
The tickling of her feet was merciless, if possible even more targeted than that of the goat, which was moved only by the desire to feed. The girl had soft soles of her feet that offered no resistance to that extreme suffering. Her fingers stretched backward, but doing so only exposed the soles more to the torment.
“Please, please, no, nooo! Ahahah!” she found herself exclaiming without restraint.
“My daughter! My daughter ahahahah!” tried to express Martha, before her torturer, leaving the goat free to act, decided to flank her by attacking her armpits. Her mangled body shook prey to terrible torments, which, however, expressed themselves in the form of only gleeful laughter.
“Looks like we did it!” exclaimed the inquisitor with satisfaction, ”Exorcist, get ready, it's your time!”
Faced with that order, the priest pulled the gospel out of his cassock and began to utter phrases in Latin, followed in chorus by the other churchmen.
The veins on the old woman's thin body seemed even more prominent, but the red blood that animated them seemed to become more and more intense. At first, the observers thought those spasms were the natural reaction to the tickling torture, but they soon realized their supernatural origin. From Martha's throat a glowing red smoke began to pour out, which in a few moments invaded the room.
“Martha, Madelyn, my beloveds, I have heard your plea for help. These fools will understand what it means to hurt my daughters!” uttered a voice not of this world, followed by laughter that sounded like thunder, fear and screeching, all at once.
And, in that dismal cell, the men of God were the only ones not laughing that day.
Madelyn slowly reopened her eyes. She had gone from one darkness to another: that of the night when she had been forcibly taken from her modest home by unrecognizable men, to that of a cold, damp cell.
She could have no doubt about her condition. Her limbs ached, she was sitting on a hard wooden chair, her arms and legs appeared immobilized by firm restraints.
The air smelled of rat droppings, in the distance could be heard soft cries, desperate wailing, sad men's pleas for forgiveness to their mothers and Almighty God.
A conception of the Most High she did not share. It had been her mother and sisters who had explained to her the mysteries of nature, hidden truths not found in either the Bible of the Church of Rome or that of other denominations.
Her reflections were interrupted by the sound of moving latches. A few determined footsteps started in his direction, and a handful of torches on the walls were lit.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, the situation in which she found herself became tragically clear to her. A few churchmen watched her gravely, led by a wrinkled old man with a gray beard whose clothing revealed his macabre function.
“When you embarked on the path laid out by Satan, you knew that the day would come when you would face God's justice, justice that will be carried out at our hands. I am Father Merkel, of the Office of the Holy Inquisition, and I am in charge of your interrogation.
Mr. Kreuzel, the officer you see at my side, is here to see that the procedure takes place according to the protocols laid down in the Law.”
Upon hearing that the inquisitor was using the plural, Madelyn turned her gaze to her left, and noticed that another woman was situated at her side, tied to a cold wooden table and immobilized in several places. A thin woman, her body marked by age no longer young, her mother's face.
At the sight of her nakedness, he noticed that both were unclothed. A common practice, undressing female prisoners. The condemned women were to be stripped of all dignity, weakened in their resistance, in order to reduce interrogation to the shortest possible time and facilitate confession.
“Martha and Madelyn Karnek. You are accused of having rejected the eternal goodness of our Lord Jesus Christ and of having embraced the doctrine of the Devil his eternal rival. Your worship is already known to us. The abominable demon Grinner whom you worship in your hellish sabbaths in the heart of the Black Forest imparts teachings to you contrary to the sound doctrine of the blessed ones.”
One of the friars behind the inquisitor, a fat man with no hair, approached and took the floor. “In my long practice as an exorcist, I have accumulated considerable knowledge about the demon of infernal laughter. It transmits to you abominable practices that deny Christian morality. You indulge in sex and amusement to remove him from the hell to which he is rightly confined and call him back to this world. But, today, this will end. We will extirpate evil from you by force, and we will eradicate it with the help of the Most Holy Truth.”
Madelyn and the members of her cult had a reputation for being extremely grim and secretive women. Unbeknownst to all, this was a strict dictate of their cult. Laughter was the most effective form of prayer in Grinner's honor. During wild sabbaths, he granted knowledge and powers to his female followers. But Madelyn could think of no rituals that could remove her from that dreadful situation.
“Do you want to shorten your suffering and summon the demon now, witch?” asked Father Merkel of the young woman ”If you do so and allow us to neutralize it, we will take that into account at the verdict.”
“Your religion of weeping and suffering makes us vomit! Go to hell!” vehemently intervened Martha, perhaps hoping to remove her daughter from those unwelcome attentions.
“Hell to which you belong, harlot? Well, we'll start with you. Observe, Madelyn Karnek, how your mother will repent of her own debauchery.”
At a nod from the inquisitor, a soldier stepped forward, dragging a young goat with him.
“This God-fearing animal will help you find some relief in your present condition,” sneered the inquisitor. Suspiciously, the old woman watched another man smear the contents of a bowl on the soles of her feet with a brush. Apart from a brief quiver from the cold contact of the bristle and the undulating motion of the brush, she preferred no sound.
“Feel free to laugh whenever you want,” the cruel clergyman urged her, with anything but reassurance.
“Go fuck your mothers! I...” the woman tried to threaten them, but her railing was nipped in the bud. Once she sensed the salty, sweetish smell on the soles of the woman's feet, the goat moved quickly toward them and took to licking them.
Martha turned her gaze toward her daughter, naked and chained and like herself, and noticed how he stared at her in a mixture of fear and hope. He had to give her the strength to resist at all costs. But the goat, inexorably driven by the flavor of which she was greedy, was the perfect tool to force her to laugh against her will.
The tickling had begun forcefully, and the old woman, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, could not quite manage it.
Madelyn watched her mother's face slowly transform from a mask of seriousness into a grin devoid of joy and smugness. Her eyes closed, her body tossed up and down, subdued gurgles emerged from her throat.
“Ighgh...ghgh...hihihi!” were the first verses that began to come out of her mouth.
At that sign of triumph, the inquisitor had more salty cream applied, drawing the goat's ravenous attention. At those constant urges, the woman relented.
“Ahahaha! Nohohoh! Enough, enough! Ahahaha!” the poor woman found herself exclaiming.
“Can you see it's not that bad? Don't mind us, laugh all you want!”
Martha summoned all her strength and clenched her mouth tightly until her lips bled. She shook her head deeply in denial, but her body did not intend to support her. Her feet seemed to go mad and she forced the ligatures, trying futilely to escape the torment.
“Can you confirm, Mr. Kreuzel, that the witch was not harmed a hair?” the inquisitor asked his companion.
“Quite so, Father. In fact, I would go so far as to say that she is even enjoying herself!” replied the officer with a sadistic sneer.
The interrogation of two suspects at the same time was no accident. The expert torturers had anticipated resistance from the two women. Subjecting one victim to the sight of the other who had already succumbed served to sap her resistance. And the plan was working. Madelyn felt invaded by fear, sadness and despondency. Seeing her mother forced against her will into laughter, a sacred gesture for them, deprived her of some of the strength that would otherwise have sustained her to resist.
“We have work to do here,” the inquisitor suddenly said, turning toward the young woman. Upon hearing this, two friars approached and, with feathers they held in their hands, began to stimulate her. At first they ventured to her neck and nose, with the obvious purpose of causing her only discomfort. The girl turned her head left and right, the sensitivity of her body betraying her. Then, they began to tease her chest and particularly her nipples, and then moved on to her abdomen and thighs. Madelyn noticed with disgust one of the old men, secluded, who at that sight introduced his hand under his cassock, to derive maximum enjoyment from it.
That pretty, pouty face showed the first signs of breaking down. As the feather did its work, a feeling of forced amusement made its way into the girl's heart. Madelyn tightened the corners of her mouth, which began to curve. That yearning, however, had not escaped the inquisitor.
“Do you feel it, witch, the repentance welling up inside you? Come on, give us your best laugh!”
As the old woman's choked laughter grew louder, the tormentors took action. One of them continued to run his feathers under her right armpit, while the left was targeted by the other's fingers. At that rough contact, Madelyn jerked as she tried to regain control of her body.
“So, pretty girl, don't you want us to hear how you laugh?” teased Father Merkel, grabbing her face.
But the girl gave him a furious look. Meanwhile, her armpits were being stormed by her torturers, with one hand assaulting her hips and the other digging into the tender crevices under her arms.
The poor girl took to writhing as her bare skin suffered the torment. Her fresh breasts jerked and her long brown hair moved back and forth following the movements of her head.
Madelyn huffed and forcefully suppressed the giggles that arose in her throat, but the effort was getting harder and harder. She was surrounded by men with grim gazes waiting to see her give in, while her mother made laughing pleas to her devoid of any mirth.
The coup de grace did not wait. The two torturers went to her lower extremities and began scratching her feet with their fingers.
“Uaahah, uaah! Ahahah ahaha, ghgh ihihi!” the girl took to shouting without any more restraint.
“She seems to be neighing, this mare!” exclaimed one of the men, arousing the hilarity of the others. The old man from before, in the face of that riot of female laughter, finished the work on her lower belly with a groan of pleasure that he struggled to premiere.
The tickling of her feet was merciless, if possible even more targeted than that of the goat, which was moved only by the desire to feed. The girl had soft soles of her feet that offered no resistance to that extreme suffering. Her fingers stretched backward, but doing so only exposed the soles more to the torment.
“Please, please, no, nooo! Ahahah!” she found herself exclaiming without restraint.
“My daughter! My daughter ahahahah!” tried to express Martha, before her torturer, leaving the goat free to act, decided to flank her by attacking her armpits. Her mangled body shook prey to terrible torments, which, however, expressed themselves in the form of only gleeful laughter.
“Looks like we did it!” exclaimed the inquisitor with satisfaction, ”Exorcist, get ready, it's your time!”
Faced with that order, the priest pulled the gospel out of his cassock and began to utter phrases in Latin, followed in chorus by the other churchmen.
The veins on the old woman's thin body seemed even more prominent, but the red blood that animated them seemed to become more and more intense. At first, the observers thought those spasms were the natural reaction to the tickling torture, but they soon realized their supernatural origin. From Martha's throat a glowing red smoke began to pour out, which in a few moments invaded the room.
“Martha, Madelyn, my beloveds, I have heard your plea for help. These fools will understand what it means to hurt my daughters!” uttered a voice not of this world, followed by laughter that sounded like thunder, fear and screeching, all at once.
And, in that dismal cell, the men of God were the only ones not laughing that day.
