fabrizio00
Registered User
- Joined
- May 25, 2008
- Messages
- 29
- Points
- 3
Yuri Nakamura was a petite woman with sharp eyes and delicate hands, a brilliant doctor who had dedicated her life to science. Born in Kyoto, she had moved to Tokyo to pursue her ambitions, and there, in a small laboratory hidden among the alleys of Shibuya, she had created something extraordinary: a secret formula capable of stopping time on human skin, an elixir of youth that could change the world. But the world, as it often happens, wasn’t always ready for miracles, and Yuri learned this the hard way.
For months, she had felt watched. Shadows followed her through the alleys, silent footsteps echoed behind her on rainy nights. Chinese intelligence had caught wind of her secret, and they weren’t alone: a shadowy organization, led by an enigmatic figure known only as the Queen of the Concubines, had set their sights on her discovery. The Queen, a woman with a veiled face and a cutting voice, commanded a group of ruthless women, as beautiful as cherry blossoms but as deadly as snakes. Yuri’s formula was their target, and they would stop at nothing to get it.
One night, as Yuri was returning home with a briefcase containing her notes, a black car cut her off. Before she could react, gloved hands grabbed her, a damp cloth covered her face, and the world faded into a chemical darkness. She awoke hours later, disoriented, in a grand villa in the heart of Tokyo’s Chinatown. The air smelled of incense and ancient wood, the walls were adorned with golden dragons, and the silence was broken only by the rustle of silk robes.
Yuri was bound to a massive wooden chair, her arms tied behind her back, her legs stretched out and secured with leather straps. In front of her, the Queen of the Concubines observed her with an icy smile. “The formula, Dr. Nakamura,” she said, her voice soft but laced with menace. “Give it to us, and perhaps you’ll live.” Yuri clenched her teeth, determined not to give in. But she hadn’t anticipated the creative cruelty of her captors.
The concubines, dressed in red and black, approached with large, soft feathers in their hands. They began at Yuri’s feet, brushing them with slow, relentless strokes. “Hahaha!” Yuri burst into uncontrollable laughter, her body twisting against the straps. The feathers danced across the soles of her feet, and her laughter echoed through the room: “Hihihi! No, stop! Hahaha!” The concubines smirked, amused by her torment. “Speak!” one of them commanded, while another intensified the tickling under her toes. “Hahaha! I can’t… hihihi… stop it!” Yuri cried out between laughs, her face streaked with tears, but the laughter wouldn’t cease, a torrent of “Hahaha!” and “Hihihi!” spilling out uncontrollably.
The torture went on for hours. The concubines switched from feathers to light fingertips, teasing Yuri’s feet mercilessly. “Hahaha! Please… hihihi… I can’t take it anymore!” she screamed through her laughter, her breath ragged, her body shaking with spasms. The Queen watched, impassive, as the concubines laughed along with her, a chorus of “Hahaha!” filling the villa. Finally, exhausted and hoarse from laughing, Yuri broke. “Hihihi… alright… hahaha… it’s in a safe deposit box… hahaha… in Ginza… code 4729!” she managed to say, amidst a final burst of “Hahaha!” The concubines exchanged triumphant glances, their grins sharper than blades.
The Queen nodded, satisfied, but her smile darkened. “We can’t let her live,” she said. “She knows too much.” Instead of a swift execution, she ordered something more sadistic: “Continue with the tickling. Total.” The concubines obeyed with glee, assaulting Yuri with feathers and fingers on every sensitive spot of her body. “Hahaha! Nooo! Hihihi!” Yuri erupted, her laughter turning into a hysterical scream as the feathers brushed her sides, neck, and armpits. “Hahaha! Stop! Hihihi!” she wailed, unable to stop.
But it didn’t end there. One concubine took thin sheets of paper, soaked them in water, and gently placed them over Yuri’s face, covering her nose and mouth. “Hahaha! Hihihi!” her laughter continued, but it became muffled, desperate, as the water blocked her air. “Hahaha… hihi…” she gasped, thrashing against the straps. After a few minutes, with a final, choked “Hihi…,” her body slumped, lifeless.
Her death was accidental, or so it seemed. There were no signs of violence, no obvious clues on the body. The concubines disposed of her corpse, abandoning it in an alley far from the villa, and vanished into the night. When Tokyo police found it, Inspector Kaori Hayashi faced an impenetrable mystery. No wounds, no signs of a struggle—just the body of a woman who seemed to have stopped breathing for no reason. Kaori scratched her head, staring at the rain falling on the pavement. “Where do I even start?” she muttered, unaware that the truth was locked away in a safe deposit box in Ginza, now in the hands of those who had orchestrated it all.
For months, she had felt watched. Shadows followed her through the alleys, silent footsteps echoed behind her on rainy nights. Chinese intelligence had caught wind of her secret, and they weren’t alone: a shadowy organization, led by an enigmatic figure known only as the Queen of the Concubines, had set their sights on her discovery. The Queen, a woman with a veiled face and a cutting voice, commanded a group of ruthless women, as beautiful as cherry blossoms but as deadly as snakes. Yuri’s formula was their target, and they would stop at nothing to get it.
One night, as Yuri was returning home with a briefcase containing her notes, a black car cut her off. Before she could react, gloved hands grabbed her, a damp cloth covered her face, and the world faded into a chemical darkness. She awoke hours later, disoriented, in a grand villa in the heart of Tokyo’s Chinatown. The air smelled of incense and ancient wood, the walls were adorned with golden dragons, and the silence was broken only by the rustle of silk robes.
Yuri was bound to a massive wooden chair, her arms tied behind her back, her legs stretched out and secured with leather straps. In front of her, the Queen of the Concubines observed her with an icy smile. “The formula, Dr. Nakamura,” she said, her voice soft but laced with menace. “Give it to us, and perhaps you’ll live.” Yuri clenched her teeth, determined not to give in. But she hadn’t anticipated the creative cruelty of her captors.
The concubines, dressed in red and black, approached with large, soft feathers in their hands. They began at Yuri’s feet, brushing them with slow, relentless strokes. “Hahaha!” Yuri burst into uncontrollable laughter, her body twisting against the straps. The feathers danced across the soles of her feet, and her laughter echoed through the room: “Hihihi! No, stop! Hahaha!” The concubines smirked, amused by her torment. “Speak!” one of them commanded, while another intensified the tickling under her toes. “Hahaha! I can’t… hihihi… stop it!” Yuri cried out between laughs, her face streaked with tears, but the laughter wouldn’t cease, a torrent of “Hahaha!” and “Hihihi!” spilling out uncontrollably.
The torture went on for hours. The concubines switched from feathers to light fingertips, teasing Yuri’s feet mercilessly. “Hahaha! Please… hihihi… I can’t take it anymore!” she screamed through her laughter, her breath ragged, her body shaking with spasms. The Queen watched, impassive, as the concubines laughed along with her, a chorus of “Hahaha!” filling the villa. Finally, exhausted and hoarse from laughing, Yuri broke. “Hihihi… alright… hahaha… it’s in a safe deposit box… hahaha… in Ginza… code 4729!” she managed to say, amidst a final burst of “Hahaha!” The concubines exchanged triumphant glances, their grins sharper than blades.
The Queen nodded, satisfied, but her smile darkened. “We can’t let her live,” she said. “She knows too much.” Instead of a swift execution, she ordered something more sadistic: “Continue with the tickling. Total.” The concubines obeyed with glee, assaulting Yuri with feathers and fingers on every sensitive spot of her body. “Hahaha! Nooo! Hihihi!” Yuri erupted, her laughter turning into a hysterical scream as the feathers brushed her sides, neck, and armpits. “Hahaha! Stop! Hihihi!” she wailed, unable to stop.
But it didn’t end there. One concubine took thin sheets of paper, soaked them in water, and gently placed them over Yuri’s face, covering her nose and mouth. “Hahaha! Hihihi!” her laughter continued, but it became muffled, desperate, as the water blocked her air. “Hahaha… hihi…” she gasped, thrashing against the straps. After a few minutes, with a final, choked “Hihi…,” her body slumped, lifeless.
Her death was accidental, or so it seemed. There were no signs of violence, no obvious clues on the body. The concubines disposed of her corpse, abandoning it in an alley far from the villa, and vanished into the night. When Tokyo police found it, Inspector Kaori Hayashi faced an impenetrable mystery. No wounds, no signs of a struggle—just the body of a woman who seemed to have stopped breathing for no reason. Kaori scratched her head, staring at the rain falling on the pavement. “Where do I even start?” she muttered, unaware that the truth was locked away in a safe deposit box in Ginza, now in the hands of those who had orchestrated it all.
