Kristina was slowly coming to a conclusion she couldn’t deny no matter how much she wanted to: She was lost. The girl slowly turned around to take in her surroundings. From the street corner she was currently standing she could see rows of shops that looked distressingly similar to the same ones she’d passed by at least twice within the last hour.
Making the drive down from suburban Massachusetts to go clubbing in Harlem had struck Kristina Sharpe as a good idea up until 20 minutes ago. Something the 24-year-old had quickly realized she missed after graduating college was having frequent vacations like Spring and Summer break. Working as a secretary at a law firm had its upsides, but plenty of time off wasn’t one of them. After roughly a year on the job she’d made the decision to blow a week’s worth of accumulated leave on a grand farewell to her old clubbing days.
The young secretary had gone all out in preparation for the trip. Her current outfit of a pink rave skirt, sleeveless black crop top with a low enough cut to show off her C-cup breasts while also leaving her tight stomach bare, and shiny new leather boots was just one of the multiple new outfits she’d bought. A trip to the hairdresser transformed her straight auburn hair into wavy pink locks just long enough to tickle her shoulders. All it’d taken from there was finding a hotel within easy striking distance of all the clubs she planned to hit up for her plans to be perfect. And they were perfect, outside of the happy-go-lucky party girl being too excited for her trip to remember to charge her cellphone, causing it to have run out of battery at some point earlier that day.
“Oh no… Oh no…” she muttered to herself in a panic. Kristina had never possessed a good sense of direction to begin with and this being her first ever trip to Harlem only made it worse. What should’ve been a 15 minute walk from the club to her hotel had somehow ended up with the young woman finding herself in an abandoned part of town. Half the storefronts she could see were boarded up while the remainder were in various states of disrepair that made it obvious at a glance that nobody had taken care of them in a long time. What trash bins were still standing upright on the sidewalk were overstuffed to the point their contents spilled out onto the surrounding pavement. It was the last sort of place the girl wanted to find herself when lost alone at night in a strange city.
“Hey there! Is everything alright?”
“Eek!” Kristina nearly jumped out of her own skin with surprise when a voice spoke up nearby. She whipped around to catch sight of an olive-skinned woman barely a dozen feet away from her. How the stranger had materialized out of thin air like that was beyond the panicking secretary.
“Erm…” A look of surprise overcame the woman seeing Kristina’s frightened reaction. An awkward pause stretched out between the two of them for several seconds before the woman gathered up the composure to speak again. “Hi there! Sorry to startle you, but I work at this pub here. I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been milling around for a while now. Is everything okay?” One of her hands pointed at the storefront she was standing in front of. A wooden sign reading “La Botticella” flanked by a pair of foaming non-descript alcoholic beverages hung above the entrance. In defiance to the general state of disrepair of the rest of the neighborhood, it was the only shop in sight that had clean windows and an entrance free of garbage.
“Oh, yes. I mean no. Things aren’t okay, I mean. I’m lost.”
“I thought so. How about stepping inside for a bit and I’ll help you get sorted out.” She began to walk back inside the pub only to stop upon noticing Kristina hesitate to follow her. Her hands clapped in front of her as if begging. “And as compensation, how about buying a drink before you leave? Please? I haven’t had a customer all week.” The sheepish look on the woman’s face put the last of Kristina’s worries to rest. If it’d been a man instead she would’ve taken off running at the suggestion of going inside with him, but a female pub owner who just wanted her to buy a drink put her at ease. This time she followed the woman inside.
While the inside of La Botticella was more cozy than upclass, it still made Kristina feel like she was wearing the wrong clothes. Stepping inside the warmly lit interior to get a full view of the rustic wooden furniture, wooden walls covered in various signs presenting eyeroll inducing drinking themed phrases like “It’s Happy Hour Somewhere in the World!” and “I Need a Beer to Wash Down This Beer!”, and a bar in front of shelves stocked with all manner of liquors made the 24-year-old woman want to go running back to her hotel to change into something more casual.
“Drinks first. I gotta get your money’s worth out of you before letting you go.”
It was just now occurring to the pink-haired girl that her savior’s choice of attire was pretty much the archetypical bartender uniform of a navy blue vest over a long sleeved white button up shirt and figure hugging black dress pants. She took the opportunity to look the other woman over again as she grabbed a seat at the bar. She liked what she saw. The woman’s skin had a beautiful tanned complexion that went well with her long, straight black hair. Giving her a quick head to toe scan, Kristina noticed that the top couple buttons of her shirt were undone to reveal an ample amount of her more than ample cleavage with a hint of something red peeking out from under the fabric. The 24-year-old quickly averted her eyes with a slight blush forming on her cheeks.
“See something you like?” Kristina turned back upon hearing the question. Her eyes went wide with shock. The olive-skinned beauty had addressed her while leaning over the counter at the perfect angle to give Kristina a look down her shirt. The young party girl couldn’t help but notice that the sheer red bra the other woman had on was so thin it served more to highlight the shapely olive melons it contained than hide them. Flustered, she averted her eyes in a panic, her blush growing deep enough to dominate her face.
“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to stare…”
Hearing the woman respond with a sultry chuckle made the girl’s ears burn. “No, I’m the one who should be saying ‘Sorry’. I started dressing like this to drum up business, but I couldn’t resist after noticing you stealing a look. Not that I mind if it’s a cutie like you!” The woman straightened herself out, allowing Kristina to finally look in her direction again. “The name’s Andrea by the way.”
“I’m Kristy.”
“So Kristy, what’ll you be having?”
“Something sweet please. Oh, and light! I’d hate to lose tomorrow to a hangover.”
“Got some big plans for tomorrow, Kristy?” Andrea continued to make small talk while preparing the drink. Kristina watched her take a bottle of tequila off the shelf behind the bar and grab a margarita glass.
“I’m on vacation. I took the week off to hit up all the best clubs. It’s gonna be a blast!” A smile came over her face thinking about all of the fun she was gonna have with the rest of the trip now that this ordeal was about to be over. She watched Andrea line the rim of the margarita glass with sugar before pouring a healthy helping of tequila into a tumbler.
“Sounds nice. Are you here with friends, perchance?”
“No, it’s just me. I’m gonna be a one woman wrecking ball! They aren’t gonna know what hit ‘em!”
The young woman was building up momentum as they chatted. She was barely paying attention as the other woman pulled out a fresh lime, a bottle of triple sec, and a second unmarked bottle from underneath the counter. The ingredients all joined the tequila in the tumbler before being shaken and poured into the waiting glass.
“One margarita with a hint of simple syrup to sweeten things up,” the beautiful bartender announced, pushing the glass across the bar towards Kristina. The young woman eagerly picked it up to take a sip. Much to her surprise it was… okay. More in line with what she’d expect from one of her old college roommates than an experienced bartender.
“Thanks, I love it,” she said just to be polite. She followed up with a bigger gulp. If the drink wasn’t worth savoring, she might as well down it quickly and get back to the hotel.
“Don’t thank me yet.” Kristina glanced up at Andrea expecting some sort of follow up. It never came. There was something off about the way the woman was smiling at her now. It gave Kristina the unnerving impression of a cat leering at a cornered mouse.
A wave of dizziness overtook the young woman before she could so much as finish her third pull. The margarita glass tumbled out of her fingers onto the floor with a crash. Kristina slumped forward over the counter, doing her best to fight off the onset of vertigo. The last thing she saw before darkness took her was Andrea’s smile growing even nastier than before.
—--
Voices. Kristina Sharpe was vaguely aware that she could hear voices nearby. The world was swimming in and out of focus around her. Her befuddled mind latched onto the sound as something, anything, it could anchor itself to in a world that couldn’t decide which way was up or down. Slowly, over how much time the young secretary didn’t know, the voices transformed from alien sounds in her ears into parsable words.
“Are you certain about this, Andrea?”
“As certain as I’ve been about anything.”
“Do you have reason to doubt her, Harold?”
“Signorina, all I’m saying is this is all very convenient.”
Eventually the room stopped spinning and Kristina was able to open her eyes without getting dizzy again. It took a couple blinks for her eyes to focus enough to look around. Standing in front of her was Andrea talking to a petite woman flanked by a pair of men towering over them both. Nobody seemed to have noticed that she was awake yet, allowing the young woman an opportunity to blearily take stock of her surroundings. In contrast to the bar’s warm atmosphere, this room had unadorned plaster walls, a tile floor, and was small enough to feel cramped with five people inside. A wooden table large enough to seat two people at most sat in the center of the room under a single covered lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Up against the far wall was a refrigerator with a magnetic whiteboard attached to the front next to a sink and microwave.
‘Is this the bar’s breakroom?’ the young woman wondered to herself. With no way to be certain, she turned her attention back to the other people in the room.
The woman was a stunning olive-skinned beauty dressed in an expensive looking black backless halter dress that reached down to her calves. Her reddish brown hair was done up in a tight bun on the back of her head and she completed the outfit with a pair of high heels sandals that showed off her slim feet. The men, on the other hand, were hulking towers of muscle roughly two meters tall each. Both wore well fitted pinstripe suits and looked like their faces had been carved out of stone, though the slightly shorter one evidently had the sculptor give up halfway through to leave him with a rough, thuggish look compared to his taller, more handsome counterpart. The entire setup screamed “old-timey mafia princess and her bodyguards” in a way that Kristina probably would’ve found hilarious if her brain wasn’t in the middle of waking up enough to process how terrified she was.
It took a surprisingly long time for the confused woman to realize she was sitting upright in a chair. Andrea had been nice enough to let her rest in a high back wooden chair with a padded headrest situated at the perfect height for Kristina to lean back into. On the not-as-considerate side of things, the bartender had also seen fit to tie her up while she was unconscious. A pair of leather cuffs secured the partygoer’s ankles to the chair’s legs, which coincidentally also forced her legs wide open to give everybody a clear view up her skirt, while her arms were held up by her head thanks to lengths of rope tying her wrists to the headrest.
Panic was starting to set in as the bondage held firm no matter how she strained against it. Her distress led to her yanking the ropes around her wrists as hard as she could, inadvertently causing her chair to shift across the tile below with an audible squeal. The bound young woman’s heart leapt into her mouth watching the shorter of the two men give her a glance before lightly tapping the dress-clad woman on the shoulder.
“Ma’am, she’s awake.”
“Thank you, Francis.” Having the woman turn to glare at her was the last thing Kristina’s nerves needed at the moment. She audibly gulped watching the woman stride up to her. “So you’re the police officer who’s been poking around our business recently, eh?”
“Huh!? W-what are you talking about?”
“Playing dumb, are we?” the woman sneered back, contempt positively dripping from her voice.
“Of course she is,” Andrea smoothly interjected before Kristina could say anything else. “What sort of undercover cop would admit they’re with the police to the criminals they’re trying to catch?”
What fear had been building up inside Kristina was blown away to be replaced with confusion. ‘What the hell is going on?’ was the only thought she could muster to herself. The dress wearing woman’s accusation coming out of the blue was surprising enough on its own, but having Andrea jump into double down on it had struck her dumb out of sheer bewilderment.
“You have yet to prove that this girl really is part of the polizia. I have seen many over the years and she doesn’t look like one to me,” the taller of the two men chimed in with slow, measured words.
“Then how do you explain the security cameras picking up her passing by so many times? There’s nothing else in this neighborhood she could be here for other than us!”
“Harold, that’s enough.” The woman in the dress cut in before Harold could open his mouth to argue back. “Have faith in Andrea. I doubt she would waste time calling us here unless she had good reason to be certain. Francis, give Donovan a call. If this girl won’t talk, we will simply have him persuade her for us.”
The last couple hours were proving to be an emotional rollercoaster for poor Kristina and not a single part of it had been positive. The woman’s words conjured up horrific images straight out of a gory horror movie with her as the victim. “Wait! Please don’t hurt me! There has to be some sort of mistake. I don’t even know what’s going on…” she blurted out. Fear and panic rendered her voice little more than a squeak. Nobody else in the room so much as batted an eye over her pleas.
“Yes Ma’am,” replied Francis with a short bow. One of his meaty fists fished a phone out of his pocket.
“There’s no need to waste poor ol’ Donovan’s time on something like this.” Once again, Andrea smoothly interjected herself into the conversation. While everybodies’ attention had been on the other woman, the sultry bartender had taken the opportunity to walk right up next to the bound Kristina. “I know the perfect way to get a little thing like her to talk.”
“Eek! Whahat the hell? Stohop that. Hehehe!” Kristina let out a squeak of surprise. Andrea’s words had been accompanied by her leaning forward to dig her fingers into the bound woman’s ribcage. Kristina was too caught off guard to mentally brace herself from breaking out giggling at the touch. She reflexively tried to protect herself by clamping her arms against her sides, but the ropes around her wrists didn’t have nearly enough slack. All the happy-go-lucky party girl could do was squirm left and right in a futile attempt to avoid the fingers, though even that was stymied by the chair’s armrests boxing her in.
Kristina wasn’t the only one caught flatfooted by Andrea’s sudden tickle attack. The other woman and Harold both looked genuinely stunned by what they were witnessing. Even Francis had stopped fiddling with his phone in favor of staring.
“Andrea… What are you doing?” asked the woman, managing to find her voice again after several seconds.
“Didn’t you know, my dear Asella? Tickling can be a devastating form of torture when applied to someone with a sensitive body. It feels horrible enough to make a girl cry and you never have to stop until she tells you everything you want to know.” Andrea’s fingers didn’t miss a beat while she explained. Her hands journeyed up and down the entire length of Kristina’s ribcage, mercilessly scratching, rubbing, and wiggling against every bone and the spaces in between, causing the room to be filled with the sound of Kristina’s giggling, complaints, and pleading.
“Andrea, don’t go sayin’ the young miss’ name in front of a civy,” Francis chided. His reprimand went ignored in favor of the bartender continuing to focus on assaulting her victim’s vulnerable ribs.
Asella, on the other hand, seemed to be considering something. Her gaze was thoughtful as she watched Kristina be reduced into a giggly mess by the continuous teasing. “Harold. Francis. We have a change of plans. Follow Andrea’s lead and get everything you can out of this girl. I’ll be waiting at home for your report,” she proclaimed after a few moments of thought.
“Signorina?”
“Ma’am…?”
“You have your orders. Don’t disappoint me,” Asella stated. The olive-skinned beauty turned on her heel to stroll out of the room without another word. A stupefied look was shared between the two men, both having heard their mistress’ orders but neither fully comprehending what exactly that meant they were supposed to be doing.
“You heard the lady! Get over here and help me tickle this girl silly!” Both guys were shaken out of their indecision by Andrea calling out to them.
“It’s the job, fra.”
“I know… I know…”
“Why arehe you dohoing this toho mehehe!?” Kristina cried in between bouts of giggling. Not a single person had bothered answering her questions ever since she’d woken up. Add to that the frustration of having a woman she’d just met tickling her while she was rendered helpless to escape and the young secretary was fast becoming frustrated enough to snap at them despite her predicament.
“You know exactly why, Ms. Policewoman,” Andrea stated firmly. “I’m not gonna stop tickling until you tell us everything about your investigation into us.”
“I dohon’t know what yohou’re talking abohout. Tehehehahahaha! I’m a sehecretahary at a lahaw firm, not poholice!”
“A likely story.”
No matter what Kristina tried to say, Andrea’s fingers never stopped moving. Her fingers transitioned seamlessly from rubbing near the top of her victim’s ribcage to wiggling the tips of her nails within the depths of Kristina’s exposed armpits. The secretary’s choice of a sleeveless crop top to go clubbing in left her smooth hollows completely exposed to everything her tormentor wanted to try. Andrea jumped around rubbing with her finger pads, gently stroking her nails down the entire length of her pits, teased around the outer rim, and gently scratched all over in a randomized attack that left her victim guessing on what she was going to have to suffer through next.
“HhehehEHAHAHAHAH! STOHOp ihithehehAHAHAHAH!” The varied assault was enough to push Kristina over the edge from simply giggling into full blown laughter. Her upper body instinctively bucked forward before slamming back into the chair. The suffering girl was left trying to bury her face into her bicep with squeals of laughter flowing freely between her lips. Her body pushed and strained back against her chair like she was trying to tunnel her way through it in an attempt to escape the tickles.
“Harold, get her sides! Francis, you work on her thighs!” Andrea ordered.
“Like this…?” Harold took up position behind the chair and wiggled his rough fingers against Kristina’s exposed sides. He was trying to copy how Andrea was tickling, but he was used to using his hands to punch things, or similarly holding something he would then hit with, not fine dexterity work. His attempts at scrabbling his fingers all over Kristina’s sides were a pale imitation of Andrea’s technique at best.
“No no no. Sides are for squeezing. Like this!” Andrea stopped attacking Kristina’s helpless underarms to give her helper an example. Fingers pressed together to form lobster claws dug into the secretary’s sides right below her ribcage. Her hands moved up and down between the bottom of Kristina’s ribs to about halfway down her sides in search of more ticklish flesh, making certain to leave room for Harold to work alongside her. Whenever she discovered what seemed like a bad spot she would pause mid-squeeze to give the spot a good shake while digging in slightly with her fingertips to milk it for all of its horribly ticklish value. Harold did his best to follow her example lower down by their victim’s hips, though he admittedly missed the detail about flexing his fingers to dig in.
“HEHEHEHE NOOOOOhoho! NOhot there. Nohoohot thereheheHAHAHAHAHAHOHOHO! Pleahase. I dohon’t knoHOW WHAHAT YOUhuhu wahant from mehehehAHAHAHAHA!” The effects were immediate. Kristina let out a loud shriek while frantically bucking her upper body to dislodge the hands. Her back repeatedly slammed into the chair hard enough to make it shake. Harold was forced to improvise by pressing his own body into the chair from behind to keep it from sliding all over the floor.
Francis was similarly lost and had managed to find himself in an even more awkward predicament. The large, musclebound thug took a lot of pride in being a devoted husband and father of two girls, both of whom were a little younger than Kristina. Francis was an inexperienced tickler like Harold who lacked confidence in working over the girl’s thighs without looking at them, but Kristina’s energetic struggling had caused her skirt to ride up to fully expose her panties. Trying to look upward got him an eyeful of her C-cup breasts jiggling around. Watching a young woman at nearly the same age as his daughters in such a state was simply too inappropriate for him to handle.
Instead, he decided to take some creative liberties on interpreting his orders. Francis opted to turn his back to the girl to focus on her knees, figuring that they were close enough to the thighs for it to count. With a silent prayer that his wife wouldn’t murder him for this, his large, calloused fingers sank in to gently squeeze the tender space right above Kristina’s knees following how Andrea had shown Harold how to tickle.
“OHOHO FUUUUHUCK!” A scream ripped its way through Kristina’s throat. Her head flung back to cackle as hard as her lungs allowed. “THahat’s tooho muhuCHEHAHAHAHAH! TEHEHEHAHAHAH! PLEAHASEHEHE! NOHO mohorehehehAHAHAHAHAH!”
By complete accident, Francis’ changing of targets had led to him stumbling on one of the worst spots on Kristina’s body. Every gentle squeeze felt like it was sending currents of ticklish electricity surging up through her body. Her legs spasmed, kicked, and shook as much as they could, but like with her upper body she didn’t have enough wiggle room to deter the tickling for long. It only took a couple tries for Francis to figure out that all he needed to do was relax his arms a little while maintaining his grip for his hands to naturally follow around the struggling knees no matter how his victim tried to escape.
Kristina was completely beside herself. Never in her life had she suffered anywhere close to as much as this. Ear piercing howls of laughter and pleading for mercy filled the room. Her muscles ached from straining against her bondage. At this point she wasn’t even consciously trying to avoid the tickles so much as instinctively, randomly thrashing around like a desperate animal fighting to escape.
Harold and Francis had settled into focusing on some spots that had gotten them a good reaction. Harold had discovered that the spots right below Kristina’s ribcage and a little bit above her hips provoked the most twisting and shrieks of laughter. Francis had grown bold enough to explore around a little. While still keeping his back turned to her, his hands had wandered inward a bit to find a spot about three quarters down her inner thighs that sent her legs into a frantic bout of wiggling every time he touched them. Neither was terribly creative with their techniques, but the unrelenting methodicism of it all was horrible to Kristina. There was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent either of the men from continuing to squeeze and rub the worst spots they could find to send explosive ticklish sensations surging up to wring her lungs for more laughter.
Andrea was actually left fuming a little that she’d been left with the least ticklish spots of the three. What she lacked in good spots though, she made up with unrelenting cruelty, unpredictability, and sadism. The evil bartender’s hands zipped all over Kristina’s body, randomly attacking her underarms, ribs, and exposed stomach. She would squeeze, poke, tap the tips of her nails, stroke, rub, and scrabble her nails against every bit of exposed skin she could reach in search of a ticklish reaction. Even Kristina’s breasts briefly came under attack with Andrea only giving up on that spot from a lack of satisfyingly loud laughter. Whenever she found a bad spot she would stop to hammer it for up to several minutes at a time. Kristina was never able to predict how the sultry bartender was going to assault her next. The uncertainty served as a horrible contrast to the inevitability of how the men were tickling her.
Kristina begged and pleaded. She shouted and cursed. After roughly 15 minutes of unrelenting tickling she broke down crying. Unfortunately, none of that was what her tormentors wanted to hear, so the torture continued unabated. After a certain point, roughly corresponding to about half an hour in when Andrea had slipped a finger into her bellybutton while Harold and Francis were both hammering a bad spot, she wasn’t even able to beg anymore. The tickling had overwhelmed her to the point she was reduced to a quivering mass of flesh screaming with laughter into ears that took it as positive confirmation that they were doing a good job.
“Okay, boys. Let’s give her a chance to catch her breath. How about you two help yourselves to the bar and we’ll see if she’s ready to talk when you’re back.” It took roughly an hour of merciless torture for Andrea to call a break.
“Man, I hope my wife never finds out about this…”
“Tell you what, you don’t snitch to my boyfriend and I won’t tip off your wife. Deal?”
“Deal.”
The two men chatted amiably as they filed out of the room. Despite their initial hesitation, they’d both discovered a sadistic pleasure in exploiting the helpless girl’s sensitive flesh, not that either was comfortable with letting their loved ones in on this newfound interest yet.
“Hey Andrea, you coming or what?” Francis called out from the door.
“Give me a minute. I’m gonna make certain this one knows what’s gonna happen if she doesn’t start talking when we get back. Feel free to get started without me, okay?”
“Alright.”
The pair didn’t bother shutting the door behind them. Andrea shot their backs a sour look as she strode over to close it before reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. For the next minute or so the only sound in the room was Kristina’s hiccups and sobbing.
The much abused, captive secretary was overwhelmed. Once the tickling stopped she’d broken down crying again. Why was this happening? What had she done to deserve being tortured like this? None of her tormentors had ever once explained why they were questioning her, but they were all perfectly happy to continue tickling even when she told them that she didn’t know anything.
Eventually, the bound woman became aware that Andrea was in the corner holding a hushed conversation on her phone. She managed to stifle her sobs enough to pick up a few snippets.
“You… It was you. You were planning to set me up from the get go. You’re the police officer they’re looking for!” Her voice had caught in her throat, reducing her accusation to a hoarse whisper, but it was enough to catch Andrea’s attention. What parts of the conversation she’d managed to overhear made the puzzle pieces all fall into place. Most notably, Andrea had been giving a status report to let whoever was on the other end know she’d found a scapegoat to throw “them” off her trail.
“Mhm. Officer Audrey Owen at your service.” The woman Kristina had known up until now as Andrea sauntered up with her to place her foot on the chair between Kristina’s legs. Her lips formed into a cocky grin as she leered down at the bound girl. “I’m an undercover cop infiltrating the local mafia. I’m oh so sorry for throwing you under the bus here, but they’ve grown too suspicious of me. I’m gonna need you to act as a scapegoat for me, for the public good of course.”
“They’ll catch you. I’m going to tell them everything. You’re not getting away with this.” Kristina’s voice was practically a hiss of fury at this point. She glared upward at her captor with all the anger she could muster. All it earned her was a sneer.
“Feel free. It’s not gonna matter. Why? ‘Cause they trust me and not you. They’ll just think you’re lying to make the tickles stop.” Audrey leaned in close to look Kristina in the eye with a grin. The girl was too choked up with fury at this point to make a rebuttal. “Wanna know the thing about torture? It’s shit for getting information out of someone. What it’s good for is getting people to say whatever they think will get you to cut it out. I’ve got all the time in the world to break you into taking the fall for me and I’ll get to continue the operation with none the wiser!”
Suddenly, the door opened again. Audrey lazily took her foot off of Kristina’s chair before turning around to greet Francis and Harold as they entered the room. “That was fast. Did you guys even grab a drink? I just got done letting this girl know she needs to start talking or we’re not going to be nice about this anymore.”
Kristina was about to start shouting at them that the bartender was the real police here when her voice caught in her throat. A strangled shriek filled the air. Harold and Francis hadn’t stopped after entering the room, instead marching straight up to each grab the undercover cop by the shoulder. Audrey was too caught off guard to react immediately to them dragging her over to slam her back down onto the room’s table.
“That went more smoothly than I could’ve hoped.” A soft, feminine voice caused everybody in the room to look at the door. In sauntered Asella carrying a length of rope in both arms.
“Asella? What’s going on? This is a bit much for a prank.” Audrey was doing her best to keep her cool, but she wasn’t able to keep her voice from quavering a little.
“It’s simple, Ms. Audrey Owen. We finally have all the proof we need that you’re our traitor.” A nasty smirk spread across her face seeing Audrey stiffen up at the sound of her real name.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who’s this Audrey you’re talking about? My name’s Andrea remember?”
“Don’t bother playing dumb. Francis here is quite the hacker. He planted a bug on your phone the last time you were paying a visit to headquarters. We have a recording of all of it. All. Of. It. From everything you told your boss to what you said to this girl here.”
“That’s… You…” Audrey spluttered indignantly. Having her cover blown so completely threw the police officer into a rage. She struggled with all her might against the two men holding her down. Unfortunately, both were individually nearly twice as large as she was and her attempts at breaking free came to naught.
“Hold it.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
To make matters worse for the olive-skinned cop, Harold and Francis hadn’t been content with simply holding her down. All of her struggling couldn’t stop them from forcibly rearranging her to lie on her back lengthwise across the table. It proved just barely large enough to support her from her head down to about halfway down her thighs. With Asella’s help they quickly stripped her down to her lacy red underwear, ignoring her shrieks of protest the whole way through, before using the rope to bind her limbs to the table’s legs.
“So what now? If you’ve heard everything then you know I already said torture isn’t good for getting information. Even if you get Donovan to make me talk, you won’t learn a thing,” Audrey spat out of spite after the three mafioso stepped back to admire their handiwork.
“Oh no, this ain’t about information. This is punishment. Anybody who backstabs the Family’s gonna suffer the consequences. It’s the rules,” said Francis.
“You shouldn’t have betrayed us, Audrey. We tru-” Harold stopped to reconsider his words briefly. “Okay, we never really trusted you to begin with, but being a rat is still low. We’re gonna make an example out of you.”
“Do your worst!”
Kristina couldn’t fathom where Audrey’s bravado came from. Just watching her captors manhandle the other woman had been enough to make her clam up out of fright. There was a vague hope inside of her that as long as she stayed silent then everybody would forget she existed in favor of focusing on their new target. Maybe, if she was lucky, they would even let her go now that they didn’t have a use for her anymore.
Those hopes didn’t manage to survive a single minute. While Harold and Francis were busy threatening Audrey, Asella turned to give her a smile. “I’m not a poor enough host to leave a guest unattended.” Asella was practically purring. Kristina was certain she was going to start crying again. That exact smile had been turned her way enough times today for her to realize it meant nothing good for her.
“Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anybody anything. You’ll never see or hear from me ever again!”
“That won’t do! You see, I was listening in the whole time the others were… ‘questioning’ you, Ms. Not a Police Officer. I heard every laugh. Your every last plea.” Asella’s hand reached out to gently stroke Kristina’s cheek. The bound young secretary flinched away from the touch, her eyes going round with horror. “Never in my life would I have believed that listening to another girl scream like that could be so stimulating! And yet, at the same time, it was oh so very frustrating.”
“Please… Please don’t tickle me anymore…” Tears began to roll down Kristina’s cheeks. Her terror grew deeper still when the only reaction she got out of her captor was a twisted smile.
“So no, I can’t let you go just yet. Not until I’ve gotten to have some fun making you laugh myself.”
Kristina let out a shriek of fear and squeezed her eyes shut upon noticing Asella’s hand begin drifting downward. Bracing herself for the sensation of those slim fingers digging into her ribs or stomach, the bound young woman was completely off guard when she instead felt the chair tip backwards. Asella had grabbed the chair legs to guide it, and by extension Kristina, to lie on its back on the ground. The one small thing going in the bound woman’s favor was that the ropes around her wrists had just enough slack that her hands weren’t forcibly smushed against the tile below.
That relief didn’t last long. A gentle tugging at her boots soon followed. No matter how Kristina struggled and wiggled her feet there was nothing she could do to prevent her captor from tugging off her leather boots one by one, followed soon after by the socks underneath to leave her feet bare.
“What memories I have of being tickled as a young girl were all on my feet. Do you have ticklish feet, Ms. Not a Police Officer? Mine are so sensitive I remember being driven out of my mind whenever Papa scratched his big, rough fingers over them.”
Asella didn’t bother waiting for a response. Kristina’s body spasmed feeling the sharp tips of 10 fingernails glide down her soles. Asella wasn’t quite as clumsy as Harold and Francis had been while still clearly not as practiced as Audrey. It didn’t matter much in this case though. Kristina’s soles were so horribly ticklish even the aimless light tickles were maddening. Giggles freely poured out of the captive woman’s mouth while her feet desperately wiggled to avoid every ticklish touch they could.
“Guess that’s our cue.”
“Yep. We can’t let Signorina be the only one putting in the work.”
Harold and Francis shared a smile. Neither was fully ready to admit it, but both had been looking for an excuse to continue having fun tickling a helpless woman. Harold took up position at the side of the table while Francis, inspired by Asella targeting Kristina’s feet, sat down on the tile by Audrey’s helplessly bound soles.
“Going with tickling again? Ha! Give it up. You’re both such piss poor ticklers this’ll be a waste of all our time,” Audrey taunted.
“You say that now, but let’s see how you talk after we’re through with you!” Harold retorted. He threateningly wiggled his fingers as his hands descended down towards Audrey’s tight exposed sides. “Cootchie cootchi coo! Who’s a ticklish little girl?” he taunted the moment his hands made contact. He squeezed up and down the lengths of her sides just like he’d practiced, but much to his unpleasant surprise the only reaction he got out of his half-naked victim was a cocky smirk.
“That’s all you got? That doesn’t tickle one bit!”
At that point, Francis decided to leap in to help. Taking advantage of Audrey’s legs hanging off the table, he got up on his knees to dig his fingers into the backs of her knees. His hope had been that catching her off-guard would let him slip under her defenses, but just like with Harold his ticklish attack didn’t draw any reaction at all.
“Wow, you both suck at this. News flash, you idiots: Tickling only works if the girl is ticklish.” Audrey accentuated her insult with a derisive laugh.
Both men were left perplexed. Neither was certain if they had struck on poor spots or if they truly were just that bad at tickling. Four sets of hands fumbled around Audrey’s bare skin in search of any form of reaction, Francis reaching up into her inner thighs and down her calves while Harold made his way up to her ribcage. Nothing they did got them anything better than continued insults from their captive.
Harold was the one to find success first. One of his rough thumbs accidentally grazed the bare skin on the side of Audrey’s breasts. So focused was he on prodding around her ribs that he almost missed how the woman almost imperceptibly flinched away from his touch. He once again brought in his thumbs to gently stroke the sides of her chest and was gratified to see woman’s cocky smile stiffen a little.
“Wouldn’t’ve guessed you had ticklish boobies of all places,” he taunted, gratified to finally be on the verbal offensive again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just don’t like my chest being groped by a pervert.”
At around the same time Francis gave up on trying to get a reaction out of the olive-skin woman’s legs in favor of moving down to her feet, figuring it was the place he most associated with tickling to begin with. The way Audrey’s limbs were bound to the table legs made it a little awkward to see her soles without fully lying on the floor. Blindly reaching his fingers under to haphazardly wiggle against whatever spots he made contact with was the most he was willing to commit to at the moment. Luckily, that was all he needed to do for now.
“Whatever you did just now, keep doing it, fra!” Harold called out encouragement seeing the corners of Audrey’s scowl twitch upwards.
Emboldened by their newfound success, both men dove into their spots with gusto. Francis’ fingers scrabbled all over the bound cop’s bare soles. Calloused fingers poked, prodded, and scratched everywhere from the heels all the way up to the balls of her feet. Harold was lightly tapping and stroking his digits against the bare skin of the woman’s upper chest. He had never quite understood other men’s obsession with a woman’s breasts, but at the moment he could see the appeal of playing with them just to watch the cop’s expression go stony.
“Just cut off her bra!” Asella shouted from where she was continuing to play with Kristina’s feet.
“Eh!?”
“She’s a traitor. People who betray the family don’t get rights such as decency!”
Audrey had been struggling to keep from laughing under the assault. For all she’d been taunting the two men earlier, part of that had been out of fear that they would stumble across her actually ticklish spots. While she was lucky that most of her body wasn’t susceptible to questing fingers in the slightest, she was even more ticklish than Kristina on the spots that were. It’d taken all of her willpower to keep the laughter bubbling inside of her in check until now. Harold cutting off her bra with a pair of scissors to let her ample chest spill out into the open before sending his fingers skittering all over her jiggling globes was the final straw. The bound cop’s upper body bounced off the table as a snort of laughter escaped from between her lips.
“This ihisn’t enohough to breheak mehehAHAHahaha!” Audrey did her best to put on a brave face despite breaking down tittering. Giggles soon transformed into full blown laughter after Harold found that playing with her nipples made the helpless police officer thrash on the table and Francis settled on her arches being the worst spot on her feet.
“I’m sohorry! Ihi’m SO sohoRRYHEHEHAHAHAH! I dihidn’t meHAHAan to BEHEtray you! I’m sohorry! I’m SOHORRYEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! I’ll BEHEHE gooohHOHOHEHEHAHAHAHAHA” Despite her best efforts, the sadistic police officer hated being tickled nearly as much as she loved making others suffer. It only took a couple minutes of sustained tickling for her defiant attitude to melt away into a stream of apologies.
“No can do! We told you, didn’t we? It’s punishment time!”
“Cootchie coo! You’re such a giggly little girl, aren’t you? Yes you are. Yes you are!”
Harold and Francis shared a wicked grin before diving in to abuse the topless woman’s ticklish body as much as they could. Audrey’s earlier taunting hadn’t exactly endeared her to either of them. At this point it wasn’t just about punishing her for betraying the family. This was personal. Both men wanted nothing more than to mentally break her as revenge for her earlier cocky behavior. They continued to hammer the sensitive spots they could find, growing more skilled as time went on to send the bound police officer into further depths of ticklish misery.
“Pleahase! Pleehease noho moHOREHE HAHAHAHEHEHEHE!” Audrey wasn’t the only one suffering greatly at the moment. Asella was having the time of her life tormenting Kristina’s sensitive soles. There was something intoxicating to her about quickly raking her nails down the lengths of the thin soles from the base of her toes all the way down to her heels to provoke out frantic foot wiggling alongside shrieks of laughter. She would then watch the much-abused feet wiggle around in a desperate attempt to ward off further touches until they were too tired to keep her at bay any longer. The moment they slowed down her fingers would immediately come back in for another pass.
Tears of agony freely streamed down Kristina’s face as screams of laughter were wrung out of her lungs one tickle at a time. The few minutes break she’d received weren’t nearly enough to rest up from the proceeding hour of non-stop gang tickling. Being plunged straight back into a hell of tickling, and explicitly for no better reason than her tormentor’s pleasure this time, broke what little remained of her spirit. Eventually she didn’t even have enough strength to wiggle her feet to deter the tickling any longer. From then on she had to bear the full brunt of Asella’s ticklish onslaught on her hypersensitive soles. All she was capable of now was feebly pleading for mercy while bawling her eyes out in between howls of laughter. Unfortunately for her, the sadist working her over felt only arousal, not pity, from the display.
Both women's screams of laughter mingled together to echo throughout the bar and abandoned streets outside. The sadistic joy the criminals took out of toying with their bodies caused the torture to continue long past either girls’ furthest limits to endure it. Kristina and Audrey were reduced to laughing wrecks unaware of anything other than the horrible, overwhelming tickling they were subjected to, unable to do anything but continue to laugh for as long as their tormentors wanted them to.
—--
Kristina Sharpe couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up to her body aching so badly. Parts of her she hadn’t been aware of hurt. Rolling over onto her side with a groan, she cracked open eyes that wanted nothing more than to stay shut against the lights that felt a hundred times brighter than they needed to be.
Waking up in the morning had never been Kristina’s forte and harboring a pounding migraine wasn’t helping. It took her over a minute of rubbing the sleep out of her eyes to realize that she didn’t recognize the room she was in, and not in the usual moment of disorientation of forgetting that she was staying in a hotel. The room she’d woken up in was wholly unfamiliar. It was a ornately decorated bedroom filled with expensive looking furniture and a ceiling nearly as tall as her parent’s entire house. The vanity alone looked like it cost more than everything in her apartment combined.
Sitting up in the giant four corner bed she’d found herself sleeping in revealed another important fact: She was naked. A scream of mortification escaped the young woman’s lips when the blanket covering her slid down to reveal her bare torso. The blanket was desperately clutched to her chest to cover herself as she tried to remember how she’d ended up in this situation. Having those particular memories resurface didn’t make her any happier though.
Asella had taken quite a shine to Kristina the night before in the worst way possible. The sadistic mafioso princess had tickled, teased, and toyed with her entire body for hours on end in the La Botticella’s breakroom. Only the minimum amount of rest had been granted to prevent her from passing out from the torture. Harold had wandered over to help gang tickle her on occasion as well, though Francis seemed content to continue abusing Audrey the entire time.
After several hours of relentless tickling both Kristina and Audrey were too delirious to put up the slightest form of resistance anymore. At that point, the three criminals had loaded their victims into a van to drive them to some mansion in an affluent part of town. Audrey was dragged away somewhere by Harold and Francis. Kristina had been stripped naked by Asella’s maids and tied spread eagle to a bed, this very one in fact judging by the restraints still attached to the four corners. There her naked body had been terrorized until nearly the crack of dawn by a lingerie-clad Asella alongside a pair of her personal maids. That part was a blur of being overwhelmed by the non-stop tickling to the extent she couldn’t remember how they’d played with her. Not that she wanted to, thinking on the subject with a shudder.
A knock at the door stirred Kristina out of her remembrance with a yelp of surprise. She nervously held onto the bedsheets to keep her body covered seeing an older man enter the room.
“Ms. Sharpe, I presume?” he asked.
“W-who are you!?”
“Pardon the intrusion, Ms. Sharpe. My name is Leonardo. I work as a butler at the esteemed Prim Manor.” He certainly looked the part to Kristina. Leonardo was an older man with graying hair, an impressively long handlebar mustache, and had arrived dressed in a crisply pressed three piece suit complete with white gloves. The older gentleman swooped into a perfectly executed deep bow as part of his introduction. “I come bearing a fresh change of clothes. I am given to understand our young mistress has made quite a mess of your previous ones. Please get dressed post haste. The master has a message he would like passed on to you.”
Coming out of the bow revealed that Leonardo had a set of neatly folded clothes under one arm. Kristina waited for him to deposit them on a nearby table and excuse himself from the room before shuffling out of bed to check them out. The clothes that’d been provided to her were a simple sleeveless pink dress matching her hair color, high quality silk woman’s underwear, and ankle-strap open toe sandals. It didn’t escape her notice that the dress was a little short for her tastes, barely reaching her thighs at all, and the entire outfit left her underarms, thighs, and feet visible. Asella had her hand in this choice of wardrobe, no doubt.
The young woman hesitated before putting them on at first, but a combination of not wanting to go around naked and Leonardo’s message that “the master” had a message for her got her moving. Annoying the head of a crime family by dallying was a terrifying thought on a good day and the past 24 hours of dealing with criminals had been anything but good. Kristina slipped into the clothes feeling vaguely put off that they actually fit better than her usual wardrobe. Leonardo has also been considerate enough to leave her a few tablets of painkillers and a glass of water which she gratefully downed before heading out to meet him in the corridor.
“You look lovely.” Leonardo complimented her with a kind smile as she emerged from the room.
“Thanks…”
“Please follow me.” The old butler turned on his heel to set off down the corridor. Kristina had problems getting her aching body to keep up at first until the kindly old man slowed down to match her pace. Once they settled into a comfortable gait he began to explain. “The master’s message is simple: Do not under any circumstances talk about any interaction you had with our young mistress Asella Prim, Misters Harold and Francis, or the police officer Audrey Owens, whom you may know under the name Andrea.”
“Oh… Okay. I promise not to say anything,” said Kristina.
“Very good. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Sharpe.”
The path Leonardo was leading her on led to the foyer. Much to Kristina’s surprise, instead of leading her out the front door the older man instead turned to a small door by the staircase. Opening it revealed a staircase leading down to the basement. “Now, this is a follow up from Ms. Prim. This way, if you will.”
Something about heading down the staircase made the hairs on the back of Kristina’s neck stand on end. She briefly considered trying to make a break for the front door, but the butler’s watchful gaze made her give up on the idea. Following Leonardo down the stairs soon greeted the young secretary with a sound that made her sick to her stomach. She’d grown much too familiar with that noise last night. It was laughter. Tortured, agonized laughter being wrung out of lungs working overtime to force out every last bit of air available in a person’s body.
A second door at the bottom of the staircase greeted the pair with a sight that made Kristina want to cry. Sitting on a sturdy wooden chair in the middle of the cellar was Audrey Owens. At some point she’d been stripped completely naked, her feet were locked in stocks with each individual toe tied back by lengths of twine, and her hands had been bound above her head by metal manacles attached to the ceiling. The olive-skinned beauty was being forced to scream with laughter by a quartet of women in maid outfits. One was swiping a feather duster in each hand all over her bare breasts and underarms while another two were putting all 10 fingers to work on each of her immobilized soles. The fourth was kneeling by the bound woman’s legs to press a vibrator against her unprotected clit.
As Kristina watched, Audrey was slowly brought to orgasm through the intense ticklish sensations wracking her body. That was her torturers' signal to step things up. The two working over her feet stopped tickling briefly in order to put on rubber cat brushing gloves. Each glove was wide enough that the maids scrubbing them against Audrey’s immobilized soles covered the entire area from her toes down to the arches of her feet in their maddeningly flexible rubber tips. The maid attending to her upper body dropped the feather dusters in favor of a pair of hairbrushes that were put to work inside Audrey’s armpits. As she tickled she moved around to Audrey’s back so the maid wielding the vibrator could start skittering her nails all over the woman’s bouncing chest and sopping wet pussy.
Audrey went completely berserk. It was clearly far more intense torture than the police officer could withstand. She screamed and hollered with laughter in ticklish agony, her face a horrible rictus of tears streaming down her face into the widest, most pained smile Kristina had ever seen. Her body thrashed against its bondage so hard the secretary was convinced she was going to hurt herself. In spite of this, the maids were merciless. They continued to hammer their assigned spots with a single-minded focus for the next several minutes without pause. Once those several minutes were up they stopped tickling for a minute in order to apply a copious amount of baby oil to all the spots they’d been tickling before restarting the process from the beginning.
“Ms. Owens has been attended to like this ever since you both arrived last night. My master usually has a preference for more perfunctory forms of punishment for traitors, but Ms. Prim was quite insistent. I personally was surprised when Misters Francis and Harold both vouched for its effectiveness!” Leonardo explained in a gentle voice like he was talking about a scene of an abandoned kitten being nursed back to health. “I’m given to understand Ms. Owen is to be kept like this for the foreseeable future. Our business does not take kindly to the intervention of law enforcement and even less so to those who abandon their oath of fealty. I believe the idea is to make an example out of Ms. Owen as to what happens if a person is both.”
Kristina was so transfixed with horror by the display in front of her that she didn’t hear a single part of Leonardo’s explanation. Having a second figure approach her from the side caught her so off guard that the following tap on the shoulder made her let out a scream of fright. Whipping around to see who it was made her heart sink. It was none other than Asella Prim, the very last person she ever wanted to see again. Kristina had been too preoccupied with the sight of Audrey being tortured to notice that Asella had also been watching with every sign of enjoyment.
The young mistress beckoned Kristina to follow her with a finger then set off up the staircase. Kristina shot Leonardo a frightful look. His encouraging nod in response was anything but. The young secretary fearfully left the basement, fully convinced she was about to be horribly tickled again. Much to her surprise, when she got back up to the foyer she saw Asella opening the large double doors that served as a front entrance to the manor.
“Y-you’re letting me go?” Kristina asked.
“As much as I’d love to keep you, we’ve been drawing too much attention from the police recently. Papa says keeping Audrey is enough of a risk as is. Adding you on top is more of a complication than he’s willing to take on at the moment, Ms. Not a Police Officer” Asella explained. One hand dug around in her purse briefly to pull out a cellphone. Kristina recognized it as her own. Shaking hands reached out to accept it.
She nearly dropped it out of surprise when the phone immediately began playing an energetic pop song featuring Italian lyrics she’d never heard before. “My Bestie” was displayed on the front over a number she didn’t recognize.
“I took the opportunity to add my number to your contacts list. The ringtone’s one of my favorite songs to let you know it’s me. I can’t force you to stay here, but there’s nothing saying it’s wrong to invite over a new friend to play from time to time!” Asella’s words nearly gave Kristina a heart attack with terror. The mafioso princess cheerfully held up her own phone to show that she was the one calling. “Pick up within three rings and keep your weekends open, okay? I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
The walk down the flight of steps outside the front door was the longest 5 steps of Kristina’s life. A valet who looked to be in his mid-20s standing in front of a limousine greeted her at the bottom.
“Would you prefer to be taken to your hotel or straight to your apartment?” he asked.
“T-the hotel please.”
Kristina Sharpe was so lost in thought as she clambered into the limousine that she was barely aware of the drive out of the estate. It didn’t really matter though. She had the sinking feeling she was going to be seeing this place quite frequently in the near future.
Making the drive down from suburban Massachusetts to go clubbing in Harlem had struck Kristina Sharpe as a good idea up until 20 minutes ago. Something the 24-year-old had quickly realized she missed after graduating college was having frequent vacations like Spring and Summer break. Working as a secretary at a law firm had its upsides, but plenty of time off wasn’t one of them. After roughly a year on the job she’d made the decision to blow a week’s worth of accumulated leave on a grand farewell to her old clubbing days.
The young secretary had gone all out in preparation for the trip. Her current outfit of a pink rave skirt, sleeveless black crop top with a low enough cut to show off her C-cup breasts while also leaving her tight stomach bare, and shiny new leather boots was just one of the multiple new outfits she’d bought. A trip to the hairdresser transformed her straight auburn hair into wavy pink locks just long enough to tickle her shoulders. All it’d taken from there was finding a hotel within easy striking distance of all the clubs she planned to hit up for her plans to be perfect. And they were perfect, outside of the happy-go-lucky party girl being too excited for her trip to remember to charge her cellphone, causing it to have run out of battery at some point earlier that day.
“Oh no… Oh no…” she muttered to herself in a panic. Kristina had never possessed a good sense of direction to begin with and this being her first ever trip to Harlem only made it worse. What should’ve been a 15 minute walk from the club to her hotel had somehow ended up with the young woman finding herself in an abandoned part of town. Half the storefronts she could see were boarded up while the remainder were in various states of disrepair that made it obvious at a glance that nobody had taken care of them in a long time. What trash bins were still standing upright on the sidewalk were overstuffed to the point their contents spilled out onto the surrounding pavement. It was the last sort of place the girl wanted to find herself when lost alone at night in a strange city.
“Hey there! Is everything alright?”
“Eek!” Kristina nearly jumped out of her own skin with surprise when a voice spoke up nearby. She whipped around to catch sight of an olive-skinned woman barely a dozen feet away from her. How the stranger had materialized out of thin air like that was beyond the panicking secretary.
“Erm…” A look of surprise overcame the woman seeing Kristina’s frightened reaction. An awkward pause stretched out between the two of them for several seconds before the woman gathered up the composure to speak again. “Hi there! Sorry to startle you, but I work at this pub here. I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been milling around for a while now. Is everything okay?” One of her hands pointed at the storefront she was standing in front of. A wooden sign reading “La Botticella” flanked by a pair of foaming non-descript alcoholic beverages hung above the entrance. In defiance to the general state of disrepair of the rest of the neighborhood, it was the only shop in sight that had clean windows and an entrance free of garbage.
“Oh, yes. I mean no. Things aren’t okay, I mean. I’m lost.”
“I thought so. How about stepping inside for a bit and I’ll help you get sorted out.” She began to walk back inside the pub only to stop upon noticing Kristina hesitate to follow her. Her hands clapped in front of her as if begging. “And as compensation, how about buying a drink before you leave? Please? I haven’t had a customer all week.” The sheepish look on the woman’s face put the last of Kristina’s worries to rest. If it’d been a man instead she would’ve taken off running at the suggestion of going inside with him, but a female pub owner who just wanted her to buy a drink put her at ease. This time she followed the woman inside.
While the inside of La Botticella was more cozy than upclass, it still made Kristina feel like she was wearing the wrong clothes. Stepping inside the warmly lit interior to get a full view of the rustic wooden furniture, wooden walls covered in various signs presenting eyeroll inducing drinking themed phrases like “It’s Happy Hour Somewhere in the World!” and “I Need a Beer to Wash Down This Beer!”, and a bar in front of shelves stocked with all manner of liquors made the 24-year-old woman want to go running back to her hotel to change into something more casual.
“Drinks first. I gotta get your money’s worth out of you before letting you go.”
It was just now occurring to the pink-haired girl that her savior’s choice of attire was pretty much the archetypical bartender uniform of a navy blue vest over a long sleeved white button up shirt and figure hugging black dress pants. She took the opportunity to look the other woman over again as she grabbed a seat at the bar. She liked what she saw. The woman’s skin had a beautiful tanned complexion that went well with her long, straight black hair. Giving her a quick head to toe scan, Kristina noticed that the top couple buttons of her shirt were undone to reveal an ample amount of her more than ample cleavage with a hint of something red peeking out from under the fabric. The 24-year-old quickly averted her eyes with a slight blush forming on her cheeks.
“See something you like?” Kristina turned back upon hearing the question. Her eyes went wide with shock. The olive-skinned beauty had addressed her while leaning over the counter at the perfect angle to give Kristina a look down her shirt. The young party girl couldn’t help but notice that the sheer red bra the other woman had on was so thin it served more to highlight the shapely olive melons it contained than hide them. Flustered, she averted her eyes in a panic, her blush growing deep enough to dominate her face.
“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to stare…”
Hearing the woman respond with a sultry chuckle made the girl’s ears burn. “No, I’m the one who should be saying ‘Sorry’. I started dressing like this to drum up business, but I couldn’t resist after noticing you stealing a look. Not that I mind if it’s a cutie like you!” The woman straightened herself out, allowing Kristina to finally look in her direction again. “The name’s Andrea by the way.”
“I’m Kristy.”
“So Kristy, what’ll you be having?”
“Something sweet please. Oh, and light! I’d hate to lose tomorrow to a hangover.”
“Got some big plans for tomorrow, Kristy?” Andrea continued to make small talk while preparing the drink. Kristina watched her take a bottle of tequila off the shelf behind the bar and grab a margarita glass.
“I’m on vacation. I took the week off to hit up all the best clubs. It’s gonna be a blast!” A smile came over her face thinking about all of the fun she was gonna have with the rest of the trip now that this ordeal was about to be over. She watched Andrea line the rim of the margarita glass with sugar before pouring a healthy helping of tequila into a tumbler.
“Sounds nice. Are you here with friends, perchance?”
“No, it’s just me. I’m gonna be a one woman wrecking ball! They aren’t gonna know what hit ‘em!”
The young woman was building up momentum as they chatted. She was barely paying attention as the other woman pulled out a fresh lime, a bottle of triple sec, and a second unmarked bottle from underneath the counter. The ingredients all joined the tequila in the tumbler before being shaken and poured into the waiting glass.
“One margarita with a hint of simple syrup to sweeten things up,” the beautiful bartender announced, pushing the glass across the bar towards Kristina. The young woman eagerly picked it up to take a sip. Much to her surprise it was… okay. More in line with what she’d expect from one of her old college roommates than an experienced bartender.
“Thanks, I love it,” she said just to be polite. She followed up with a bigger gulp. If the drink wasn’t worth savoring, she might as well down it quickly and get back to the hotel.
“Don’t thank me yet.” Kristina glanced up at Andrea expecting some sort of follow up. It never came. There was something off about the way the woman was smiling at her now. It gave Kristina the unnerving impression of a cat leering at a cornered mouse.
A wave of dizziness overtook the young woman before she could so much as finish her third pull. The margarita glass tumbled out of her fingers onto the floor with a crash. Kristina slumped forward over the counter, doing her best to fight off the onset of vertigo. The last thing she saw before darkness took her was Andrea’s smile growing even nastier than before.
—--
Voices. Kristina Sharpe was vaguely aware that she could hear voices nearby. The world was swimming in and out of focus around her. Her befuddled mind latched onto the sound as something, anything, it could anchor itself to in a world that couldn’t decide which way was up or down. Slowly, over how much time the young secretary didn’t know, the voices transformed from alien sounds in her ears into parsable words.
“Are you certain about this, Andrea?”
“As certain as I’ve been about anything.”
“Do you have reason to doubt her, Harold?”
“Signorina, all I’m saying is this is all very convenient.”
Eventually the room stopped spinning and Kristina was able to open her eyes without getting dizzy again. It took a couple blinks for her eyes to focus enough to look around. Standing in front of her was Andrea talking to a petite woman flanked by a pair of men towering over them both. Nobody seemed to have noticed that she was awake yet, allowing the young woman an opportunity to blearily take stock of her surroundings. In contrast to the bar’s warm atmosphere, this room had unadorned plaster walls, a tile floor, and was small enough to feel cramped with five people inside. A wooden table large enough to seat two people at most sat in the center of the room under a single covered lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Up against the far wall was a refrigerator with a magnetic whiteboard attached to the front next to a sink and microwave.
‘Is this the bar’s breakroom?’ the young woman wondered to herself. With no way to be certain, she turned her attention back to the other people in the room.
The woman was a stunning olive-skinned beauty dressed in an expensive looking black backless halter dress that reached down to her calves. Her reddish brown hair was done up in a tight bun on the back of her head and she completed the outfit with a pair of high heels sandals that showed off her slim feet. The men, on the other hand, were hulking towers of muscle roughly two meters tall each. Both wore well fitted pinstripe suits and looked like their faces had been carved out of stone, though the slightly shorter one evidently had the sculptor give up halfway through to leave him with a rough, thuggish look compared to his taller, more handsome counterpart. The entire setup screamed “old-timey mafia princess and her bodyguards” in a way that Kristina probably would’ve found hilarious if her brain wasn’t in the middle of waking up enough to process how terrified she was.
It took a surprisingly long time for the confused woman to realize she was sitting upright in a chair. Andrea had been nice enough to let her rest in a high back wooden chair with a padded headrest situated at the perfect height for Kristina to lean back into. On the not-as-considerate side of things, the bartender had also seen fit to tie her up while she was unconscious. A pair of leather cuffs secured the partygoer’s ankles to the chair’s legs, which coincidentally also forced her legs wide open to give everybody a clear view up her skirt, while her arms were held up by her head thanks to lengths of rope tying her wrists to the headrest.
Panic was starting to set in as the bondage held firm no matter how she strained against it. Her distress led to her yanking the ropes around her wrists as hard as she could, inadvertently causing her chair to shift across the tile below with an audible squeal. The bound young woman’s heart leapt into her mouth watching the shorter of the two men give her a glance before lightly tapping the dress-clad woman on the shoulder.
“Ma’am, she’s awake.”
“Thank you, Francis.” Having the woman turn to glare at her was the last thing Kristina’s nerves needed at the moment. She audibly gulped watching the woman stride up to her. “So you’re the police officer who’s been poking around our business recently, eh?”
“Huh!? W-what are you talking about?”
“Playing dumb, are we?” the woman sneered back, contempt positively dripping from her voice.
“Of course she is,” Andrea smoothly interjected before Kristina could say anything else. “What sort of undercover cop would admit they’re with the police to the criminals they’re trying to catch?”
What fear had been building up inside Kristina was blown away to be replaced with confusion. ‘What the hell is going on?’ was the only thought she could muster to herself. The dress wearing woman’s accusation coming out of the blue was surprising enough on its own, but having Andrea jump into double down on it had struck her dumb out of sheer bewilderment.
“You have yet to prove that this girl really is part of the polizia. I have seen many over the years and she doesn’t look like one to me,” the taller of the two men chimed in with slow, measured words.
“Then how do you explain the security cameras picking up her passing by so many times? There’s nothing else in this neighborhood she could be here for other than us!”
“Harold, that’s enough.” The woman in the dress cut in before Harold could open his mouth to argue back. “Have faith in Andrea. I doubt she would waste time calling us here unless she had good reason to be certain. Francis, give Donovan a call. If this girl won’t talk, we will simply have him persuade her for us.”
The last couple hours were proving to be an emotional rollercoaster for poor Kristina and not a single part of it had been positive. The woman’s words conjured up horrific images straight out of a gory horror movie with her as the victim. “Wait! Please don’t hurt me! There has to be some sort of mistake. I don’t even know what’s going on…” she blurted out. Fear and panic rendered her voice little more than a squeak. Nobody else in the room so much as batted an eye over her pleas.
“Yes Ma’am,” replied Francis with a short bow. One of his meaty fists fished a phone out of his pocket.
“There’s no need to waste poor ol’ Donovan’s time on something like this.” Once again, Andrea smoothly interjected herself into the conversation. While everybodies’ attention had been on the other woman, the sultry bartender had taken the opportunity to walk right up next to the bound Kristina. “I know the perfect way to get a little thing like her to talk.”
“Eek! Whahat the hell? Stohop that. Hehehe!” Kristina let out a squeak of surprise. Andrea’s words had been accompanied by her leaning forward to dig her fingers into the bound woman’s ribcage. Kristina was too caught off guard to mentally brace herself from breaking out giggling at the touch. She reflexively tried to protect herself by clamping her arms against her sides, but the ropes around her wrists didn’t have nearly enough slack. All the happy-go-lucky party girl could do was squirm left and right in a futile attempt to avoid the fingers, though even that was stymied by the chair’s armrests boxing her in.
Kristina wasn’t the only one caught flatfooted by Andrea’s sudden tickle attack. The other woman and Harold both looked genuinely stunned by what they were witnessing. Even Francis had stopped fiddling with his phone in favor of staring.
“Andrea… What are you doing?” asked the woman, managing to find her voice again after several seconds.
“Didn’t you know, my dear Asella? Tickling can be a devastating form of torture when applied to someone with a sensitive body. It feels horrible enough to make a girl cry and you never have to stop until she tells you everything you want to know.” Andrea’s fingers didn’t miss a beat while she explained. Her hands journeyed up and down the entire length of Kristina’s ribcage, mercilessly scratching, rubbing, and wiggling against every bone and the spaces in between, causing the room to be filled with the sound of Kristina’s giggling, complaints, and pleading.
“Andrea, don’t go sayin’ the young miss’ name in front of a civy,” Francis chided. His reprimand went ignored in favor of the bartender continuing to focus on assaulting her victim’s vulnerable ribs.
Asella, on the other hand, seemed to be considering something. Her gaze was thoughtful as she watched Kristina be reduced into a giggly mess by the continuous teasing. “Harold. Francis. We have a change of plans. Follow Andrea’s lead and get everything you can out of this girl. I’ll be waiting at home for your report,” she proclaimed after a few moments of thought.
“Signorina?”
“Ma’am…?”
“You have your orders. Don’t disappoint me,” Asella stated. The olive-skinned beauty turned on her heel to stroll out of the room without another word. A stupefied look was shared between the two men, both having heard their mistress’ orders but neither fully comprehending what exactly that meant they were supposed to be doing.
“You heard the lady! Get over here and help me tickle this girl silly!” Both guys were shaken out of their indecision by Andrea calling out to them.
“It’s the job, fra.”
“I know… I know…”
“Why arehe you dohoing this toho mehehe!?” Kristina cried in between bouts of giggling. Not a single person had bothered answering her questions ever since she’d woken up. Add to that the frustration of having a woman she’d just met tickling her while she was rendered helpless to escape and the young secretary was fast becoming frustrated enough to snap at them despite her predicament.
“You know exactly why, Ms. Policewoman,” Andrea stated firmly. “I’m not gonna stop tickling until you tell us everything about your investigation into us.”
“I dohon’t know what yohou’re talking abohout. Tehehehahahaha! I’m a sehecretahary at a lahaw firm, not poholice!”
“A likely story.”
No matter what Kristina tried to say, Andrea’s fingers never stopped moving. Her fingers transitioned seamlessly from rubbing near the top of her victim’s ribcage to wiggling the tips of her nails within the depths of Kristina’s exposed armpits. The secretary’s choice of a sleeveless crop top to go clubbing in left her smooth hollows completely exposed to everything her tormentor wanted to try. Andrea jumped around rubbing with her finger pads, gently stroking her nails down the entire length of her pits, teased around the outer rim, and gently scratched all over in a randomized attack that left her victim guessing on what she was going to have to suffer through next.
“HhehehEHAHAHAHAH! STOHOp ihithehehAHAHAHAH!” The varied assault was enough to push Kristina over the edge from simply giggling into full blown laughter. Her upper body instinctively bucked forward before slamming back into the chair. The suffering girl was left trying to bury her face into her bicep with squeals of laughter flowing freely between her lips. Her body pushed and strained back against her chair like she was trying to tunnel her way through it in an attempt to escape the tickles.
“Harold, get her sides! Francis, you work on her thighs!” Andrea ordered.
“Like this…?” Harold took up position behind the chair and wiggled his rough fingers against Kristina’s exposed sides. He was trying to copy how Andrea was tickling, but he was used to using his hands to punch things, or similarly holding something he would then hit with, not fine dexterity work. His attempts at scrabbling his fingers all over Kristina’s sides were a pale imitation of Andrea’s technique at best.
“No no no. Sides are for squeezing. Like this!” Andrea stopped attacking Kristina’s helpless underarms to give her helper an example. Fingers pressed together to form lobster claws dug into the secretary’s sides right below her ribcage. Her hands moved up and down between the bottom of Kristina’s ribs to about halfway down her sides in search of more ticklish flesh, making certain to leave room for Harold to work alongside her. Whenever she discovered what seemed like a bad spot she would pause mid-squeeze to give the spot a good shake while digging in slightly with her fingertips to milk it for all of its horribly ticklish value. Harold did his best to follow her example lower down by their victim’s hips, though he admittedly missed the detail about flexing his fingers to dig in.
“HEHEHEHE NOOOOOhoho! NOhot there. Nohoohot thereheheHAHAHAHAHAHOHOHO! Pleahase. I dohon’t knoHOW WHAHAT YOUhuhu wahant from mehehehAHAHAHAHA!” The effects were immediate. Kristina let out a loud shriek while frantically bucking her upper body to dislodge the hands. Her back repeatedly slammed into the chair hard enough to make it shake. Harold was forced to improvise by pressing his own body into the chair from behind to keep it from sliding all over the floor.
Francis was similarly lost and had managed to find himself in an even more awkward predicament. The large, musclebound thug took a lot of pride in being a devoted husband and father of two girls, both of whom were a little younger than Kristina. Francis was an inexperienced tickler like Harold who lacked confidence in working over the girl’s thighs without looking at them, but Kristina’s energetic struggling had caused her skirt to ride up to fully expose her panties. Trying to look upward got him an eyeful of her C-cup breasts jiggling around. Watching a young woman at nearly the same age as his daughters in such a state was simply too inappropriate for him to handle.
Instead, he decided to take some creative liberties on interpreting his orders. Francis opted to turn his back to the girl to focus on her knees, figuring that they were close enough to the thighs for it to count. With a silent prayer that his wife wouldn’t murder him for this, his large, calloused fingers sank in to gently squeeze the tender space right above Kristina’s knees following how Andrea had shown Harold how to tickle.
“OHOHO FUUUUHUCK!” A scream ripped its way through Kristina’s throat. Her head flung back to cackle as hard as her lungs allowed. “THahat’s tooho muhuCHEHAHAHAHAH! TEHEHEHAHAHAH! PLEAHASEHEHE! NOHO mohorehehehAHAHAHAHAH!”
By complete accident, Francis’ changing of targets had led to him stumbling on one of the worst spots on Kristina’s body. Every gentle squeeze felt like it was sending currents of ticklish electricity surging up through her body. Her legs spasmed, kicked, and shook as much as they could, but like with her upper body she didn’t have enough wiggle room to deter the tickling for long. It only took a couple tries for Francis to figure out that all he needed to do was relax his arms a little while maintaining his grip for his hands to naturally follow around the struggling knees no matter how his victim tried to escape.
Kristina was completely beside herself. Never in her life had she suffered anywhere close to as much as this. Ear piercing howls of laughter and pleading for mercy filled the room. Her muscles ached from straining against her bondage. At this point she wasn’t even consciously trying to avoid the tickles so much as instinctively, randomly thrashing around like a desperate animal fighting to escape.
Harold and Francis had settled into focusing on some spots that had gotten them a good reaction. Harold had discovered that the spots right below Kristina’s ribcage and a little bit above her hips provoked the most twisting and shrieks of laughter. Francis had grown bold enough to explore around a little. While still keeping his back turned to her, his hands had wandered inward a bit to find a spot about three quarters down her inner thighs that sent her legs into a frantic bout of wiggling every time he touched them. Neither was terribly creative with their techniques, but the unrelenting methodicism of it all was horrible to Kristina. There was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent either of the men from continuing to squeeze and rub the worst spots they could find to send explosive ticklish sensations surging up to wring her lungs for more laughter.
Andrea was actually left fuming a little that she’d been left with the least ticklish spots of the three. What she lacked in good spots though, she made up with unrelenting cruelty, unpredictability, and sadism. The evil bartender’s hands zipped all over Kristina’s body, randomly attacking her underarms, ribs, and exposed stomach. She would squeeze, poke, tap the tips of her nails, stroke, rub, and scrabble her nails against every bit of exposed skin she could reach in search of a ticklish reaction. Even Kristina’s breasts briefly came under attack with Andrea only giving up on that spot from a lack of satisfyingly loud laughter. Whenever she found a bad spot she would stop to hammer it for up to several minutes at a time. Kristina was never able to predict how the sultry bartender was going to assault her next. The uncertainty served as a horrible contrast to the inevitability of how the men were tickling her.
Kristina begged and pleaded. She shouted and cursed. After roughly 15 minutes of unrelenting tickling she broke down crying. Unfortunately, none of that was what her tormentors wanted to hear, so the torture continued unabated. After a certain point, roughly corresponding to about half an hour in when Andrea had slipped a finger into her bellybutton while Harold and Francis were both hammering a bad spot, she wasn’t even able to beg anymore. The tickling had overwhelmed her to the point she was reduced to a quivering mass of flesh screaming with laughter into ears that took it as positive confirmation that they were doing a good job.
“Okay, boys. Let’s give her a chance to catch her breath. How about you two help yourselves to the bar and we’ll see if she’s ready to talk when you’re back.” It took roughly an hour of merciless torture for Andrea to call a break.
“Man, I hope my wife never finds out about this…”
“Tell you what, you don’t snitch to my boyfriend and I won’t tip off your wife. Deal?”
“Deal.”
The two men chatted amiably as they filed out of the room. Despite their initial hesitation, they’d both discovered a sadistic pleasure in exploiting the helpless girl’s sensitive flesh, not that either was comfortable with letting their loved ones in on this newfound interest yet.
“Hey Andrea, you coming or what?” Francis called out from the door.
“Give me a minute. I’m gonna make certain this one knows what’s gonna happen if she doesn’t start talking when we get back. Feel free to get started without me, okay?”
“Alright.”
The pair didn’t bother shutting the door behind them. Andrea shot their backs a sour look as she strode over to close it before reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. For the next minute or so the only sound in the room was Kristina’s hiccups and sobbing.
The much abused, captive secretary was overwhelmed. Once the tickling stopped she’d broken down crying again. Why was this happening? What had she done to deserve being tortured like this? None of her tormentors had ever once explained why they were questioning her, but they were all perfectly happy to continue tickling even when she told them that she didn’t know anything.
Eventually, the bound woman became aware that Andrea was in the corner holding a hushed conversation on her phone. She managed to stifle her sobs enough to pick up a few snippets.
“You… It was you. You were planning to set me up from the get go. You’re the police officer they’re looking for!” Her voice had caught in her throat, reducing her accusation to a hoarse whisper, but it was enough to catch Andrea’s attention. What parts of the conversation she’d managed to overhear made the puzzle pieces all fall into place. Most notably, Andrea had been giving a status report to let whoever was on the other end know she’d found a scapegoat to throw “them” off her trail.
“Mhm. Officer Audrey Owen at your service.” The woman Kristina had known up until now as Andrea sauntered up with her to place her foot on the chair between Kristina’s legs. Her lips formed into a cocky grin as she leered down at the bound girl. “I’m an undercover cop infiltrating the local mafia. I’m oh so sorry for throwing you under the bus here, but they’ve grown too suspicious of me. I’m gonna need you to act as a scapegoat for me, for the public good of course.”
“They’ll catch you. I’m going to tell them everything. You’re not getting away with this.” Kristina’s voice was practically a hiss of fury at this point. She glared upward at her captor with all the anger she could muster. All it earned her was a sneer.
“Feel free. It’s not gonna matter. Why? ‘Cause they trust me and not you. They’ll just think you’re lying to make the tickles stop.” Audrey leaned in close to look Kristina in the eye with a grin. The girl was too choked up with fury at this point to make a rebuttal. “Wanna know the thing about torture? It’s shit for getting information out of someone. What it’s good for is getting people to say whatever they think will get you to cut it out. I’ve got all the time in the world to break you into taking the fall for me and I’ll get to continue the operation with none the wiser!”
Suddenly, the door opened again. Audrey lazily took her foot off of Kristina’s chair before turning around to greet Francis and Harold as they entered the room. “That was fast. Did you guys even grab a drink? I just got done letting this girl know she needs to start talking or we’re not going to be nice about this anymore.”
Kristina was about to start shouting at them that the bartender was the real police here when her voice caught in her throat. A strangled shriek filled the air. Harold and Francis hadn’t stopped after entering the room, instead marching straight up to each grab the undercover cop by the shoulder. Audrey was too caught off guard to react immediately to them dragging her over to slam her back down onto the room’s table.
“That went more smoothly than I could’ve hoped.” A soft, feminine voice caused everybody in the room to look at the door. In sauntered Asella carrying a length of rope in both arms.
“Asella? What’s going on? This is a bit much for a prank.” Audrey was doing her best to keep her cool, but she wasn’t able to keep her voice from quavering a little.
“It’s simple, Ms. Audrey Owen. We finally have all the proof we need that you’re our traitor.” A nasty smirk spread across her face seeing Audrey stiffen up at the sound of her real name.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who’s this Audrey you’re talking about? My name’s Andrea remember?”
“Don’t bother playing dumb. Francis here is quite the hacker. He planted a bug on your phone the last time you were paying a visit to headquarters. We have a recording of all of it. All. Of. It. From everything you told your boss to what you said to this girl here.”
“That’s… You…” Audrey spluttered indignantly. Having her cover blown so completely threw the police officer into a rage. She struggled with all her might against the two men holding her down. Unfortunately, both were individually nearly twice as large as she was and her attempts at breaking free came to naught.
“Hold it.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
To make matters worse for the olive-skinned cop, Harold and Francis hadn’t been content with simply holding her down. All of her struggling couldn’t stop them from forcibly rearranging her to lie on her back lengthwise across the table. It proved just barely large enough to support her from her head down to about halfway down her thighs. With Asella’s help they quickly stripped her down to her lacy red underwear, ignoring her shrieks of protest the whole way through, before using the rope to bind her limbs to the table’s legs.
“So what now? If you’ve heard everything then you know I already said torture isn’t good for getting information. Even if you get Donovan to make me talk, you won’t learn a thing,” Audrey spat out of spite after the three mafioso stepped back to admire their handiwork.
“Oh no, this ain’t about information. This is punishment. Anybody who backstabs the Family’s gonna suffer the consequences. It’s the rules,” said Francis.
“You shouldn’t have betrayed us, Audrey. We tru-” Harold stopped to reconsider his words briefly. “Okay, we never really trusted you to begin with, but being a rat is still low. We’re gonna make an example out of you.”
“Do your worst!”
Kristina couldn’t fathom where Audrey’s bravado came from. Just watching her captors manhandle the other woman had been enough to make her clam up out of fright. There was a vague hope inside of her that as long as she stayed silent then everybody would forget she existed in favor of focusing on their new target. Maybe, if she was lucky, they would even let her go now that they didn’t have a use for her anymore.
Those hopes didn’t manage to survive a single minute. While Harold and Francis were busy threatening Audrey, Asella turned to give her a smile. “I’m not a poor enough host to leave a guest unattended.” Asella was practically purring. Kristina was certain she was going to start crying again. That exact smile had been turned her way enough times today for her to realize it meant nothing good for her.
“Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anybody anything. You’ll never see or hear from me ever again!”
“That won’t do! You see, I was listening in the whole time the others were… ‘questioning’ you, Ms. Not a Police Officer. I heard every laugh. Your every last plea.” Asella’s hand reached out to gently stroke Kristina’s cheek. The bound young secretary flinched away from the touch, her eyes going round with horror. “Never in my life would I have believed that listening to another girl scream like that could be so stimulating! And yet, at the same time, it was oh so very frustrating.”
“Please… Please don’t tickle me anymore…” Tears began to roll down Kristina’s cheeks. Her terror grew deeper still when the only reaction she got out of her captor was a twisted smile.
“So no, I can’t let you go just yet. Not until I’ve gotten to have some fun making you laugh myself.”
Kristina let out a shriek of fear and squeezed her eyes shut upon noticing Asella’s hand begin drifting downward. Bracing herself for the sensation of those slim fingers digging into her ribs or stomach, the bound young woman was completely off guard when she instead felt the chair tip backwards. Asella had grabbed the chair legs to guide it, and by extension Kristina, to lie on its back on the ground. The one small thing going in the bound woman’s favor was that the ropes around her wrists had just enough slack that her hands weren’t forcibly smushed against the tile below.
That relief didn’t last long. A gentle tugging at her boots soon followed. No matter how Kristina struggled and wiggled her feet there was nothing she could do to prevent her captor from tugging off her leather boots one by one, followed soon after by the socks underneath to leave her feet bare.
“What memories I have of being tickled as a young girl were all on my feet. Do you have ticklish feet, Ms. Not a Police Officer? Mine are so sensitive I remember being driven out of my mind whenever Papa scratched his big, rough fingers over them.”
Asella didn’t bother waiting for a response. Kristina’s body spasmed feeling the sharp tips of 10 fingernails glide down her soles. Asella wasn’t quite as clumsy as Harold and Francis had been while still clearly not as practiced as Audrey. It didn’t matter much in this case though. Kristina’s soles were so horribly ticklish even the aimless light tickles were maddening. Giggles freely poured out of the captive woman’s mouth while her feet desperately wiggled to avoid every ticklish touch they could.
“Guess that’s our cue.”
“Yep. We can’t let Signorina be the only one putting in the work.”
Harold and Francis shared a smile. Neither was fully ready to admit it, but both had been looking for an excuse to continue having fun tickling a helpless woman. Harold took up position at the side of the table while Francis, inspired by Asella targeting Kristina’s feet, sat down on the tile by Audrey’s helplessly bound soles.
“Going with tickling again? Ha! Give it up. You’re both such piss poor ticklers this’ll be a waste of all our time,” Audrey taunted.
“You say that now, but let’s see how you talk after we’re through with you!” Harold retorted. He threateningly wiggled his fingers as his hands descended down towards Audrey’s tight exposed sides. “Cootchie cootchi coo! Who’s a ticklish little girl?” he taunted the moment his hands made contact. He squeezed up and down the lengths of her sides just like he’d practiced, but much to his unpleasant surprise the only reaction he got out of his half-naked victim was a cocky smirk.
“That’s all you got? That doesn’t tickle one bit!”
At that point, Francis decided to leap in to help. Taking advantage of Audrey’s legs hanging off the table, he got up on his knees to dig his fingers into the backs of her knees. His hope had been that catching her off-guard would let him slip under her defenses, but just like with Harold his ticklish attack didn’t draw any reaction at all.
“Wow, you both suck at this. News flash, you idiots: Tickling only works if the girl is ticklish.” Audrey accentuated her insult with a derisive laugh.
Both men were left perplexed. Neither was certain if they had struck on poor spots or if they truly were just that bad at tickling. Four sets of hands fumbled around Audrey’s bare skin in search of any form of reaction, Francis reaching up into her inner thighs and down her calves while Harold made his way up to her ribcage. Nothing they did got them anything better than continued insults from their captive.
Harold was the one to find success first. One of his rough thumbs accidentally grazed the bare skin on the side of Audrey’s breasts. So focused was he on prodding around her ribs that he almost missed how the woman almost imperceptibly flinched away from his touch. He once again brought in his thumbs to gently stroke the sides of her chest and was gratified to see woman’s cocky smile stiffen a little.
“Wouldn’t’ve guessed you had ticklish boobies of all places,” he taunted, gratified to finally be on the verbal offensive again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just don’t like my chest being groped by a pervert.”
At around the same time Francis gave up on trying to get a reaction out of the olive-skin woman’s legs in favor of moving down to her feet, figuring it was the place he most associated with tickling to begin with. The way Audrey’s limbs were bound to the table legs made it a little awkward to see her soles without fully lying on the floor. Blindly reaching his fingers under to haphazardly wiggle against whatever spots he made contact with was the most he was willing to commit to at the moment. Luckily, that was all he needed to do for now.
“Whatever you did just now, keep doing it, fra!” Harold called out encouragement seeing the corners of Audrey’s scowl twitch upwards.
Emboldened by their newfound success, both men dove into their spots with gusto. Francis’ fingers scrabbled all over the bound cop’s bare soles. Calloused fingers poked, prodded, and scratched everywhere from the heels all the way up to the balls of her feet. Harold was lightly tapping and stroking his digits against the bare skin of the woman’s upper chest. He had never quite understood other men’s obsession with a woman’s breasts, but at the moment he could see the appeal of playing with them just to watch the cop’s expression go stony.
“Just cut off her bra!” Asella shouted from where she was continuing to play with Kristina’s feet.
“Eh!?”
“She’s a traitor. People who betray the family don’t get rights such as decency!”
Audrey had been struggling to keep from laughing under the assault. For all she’d been taunting the two men earlier, part of that had been out of fear that they would stumble across her actually ticklish spots. While she was lucky that most of her body wasn’t susceptible to questing fingers in the slightest, she was even more ticklish than Kristina on the spots that were. It’d taken all of her willpower to keep the laughter bubbling inside of her in check until now. Harold cutting off her bra with a pair of scissors to let her ample chest spill out into the open before sending his fingers skittering all over her jiggling globes was the final straw. The bound cop’s upper body bounced off the table as a snort of laughter escaped from between her lips.
“This ihisn’t enohough to breheak mehehAHAHahaha!” Audrey did her best to put on a brave face despite breaking down tittering. Giggles soon transformed into full blown laughter after Harold found that playing with her nipples made the helpless police officer thrash on the table and Francis settled on her arches being the worst spot on her feet.
“I’m sohorry! Ihi’m SO sohoRRYHEHEHAHAHAH! I dihidn’t meHAHAan to BEHEtray you! I’m sohorry! I’m SOHORRYEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! I’ll BEHEHE gooohHOHOHEHEHAHAHAHAHA” Despite her best efforts, the sadistic police officer hated being tickled nearly as much as she loved making others suffer. It only took a couple minutes of sustained tickling for her defiant attitude to melt away into a stream of apologies.
“No can do! We told you, didn’t we? It’s punishment time!”
“Cootchie coo! You’re such a giggly little girl, aren’t you? Yes you are. Yes you are!”
Harold and Francis shared a wicked grin before diving in to abuse the topless woman’s ticklish body as much as they could. Audrey’s earlier taunting hadn’t exactly endeared her to either of them. At this point it wasn’t just about punishing her for betraying the family. This was personal. Both men wanted nothing more than to mentally break her as revenge for her earlier cocky behavior. They continued to hammer the sensitive spots they could find, growing more skilled as time went on to send the bound police officer into further depths of ticklish misery.
“Pleahase! Pleehease noho moHOREHE HAHAHAHEHEHEHE!” Audrey wasn’t the only one suffering greatly at the moment. Asella was having the time of her life tormenting Kristina’s sensitive soles. There was something intoxicating to her about quickly raking her nails down the lengths of the thin soles from the base of her toes all the way down to her heels to provoke out frantic foot wiggling alongside shrieks of laughter. She would then watch the much-abused feet wiggle around in a desperate attempt to ward off further touches until they were too tired to keep her at bay any longer. The moment they slowed down her fingers would immediately come back in for another pass.
Tears of agony freely streamed down Kristina’s face as screams of laughter were wrung out of her lungs one tickle at a time. The few minutes break she’d received weren’t nearly enough to rest up from the proceeding hour of non-stop gang tickling. Being plunged straight back into a hell of tickling, and explicitly for no better reason than her tormentor’s pleasure this time, broke what little remained of her spirit. Eventually she didn’t even have enough strength to wiggle her feet to deter the tickling any longer. From then on she had to bear the full brunt of Asella’s ticklish onslaught on her hypersensitive soles. All she was capable of now was feebly pleading for mercy while bawling her eyes out in between howls of laughter. Unfortunately for her, the sadist working her over felt only arousal, not pity, from the display.
Both women's screams of laughter mingled together to echo throughout the bar and abandoned streets outside. The sadistic joy the criminals took out of toying with their bodies caused the torture to continue long past either girls’ furthest limits to endure it. Kristina and Audrey were reduced to laughing wrecks unaware of anything other than the horrible, overwhelming tickling they were subjected to, unable to do anything but continue to laugh for as long as their tormentors wanted them to.
—--
Kristina Sharpe couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up to her body aching so badly. Parts of her she hadn’t been aware of hurt. Rolling over onto her side with a groan, she cracked open eyes that wanted nothing more than to stay shut against the lights that felt a hundred times brighter than they needed to be.
Waking up in the morning had never been Kristina’s forte and harboring a pounding migraine wasn’t helping. It took her over a minute of rubbing the sleep out of her eyes to realize that she didn’t recognize the room she was in, and not in the usual moment of disorientation of forgetting that she was staying in a hotel. The room she’d woken up in was wholly unfamiliar. It was a ornately decorated bedroom filled with expensive looking furniture and a ceiling nearly as tall as her parent’s entire house. The vanity alone looked like it cost more than everything in her apartment combined.
Sitting up in the giant four corner bed she’d found herself sleeping in revealed another important fact: She was naked. A scream of mortification escaped the young woman’s lips when the blanket covering her slid down to reveal her bare torso. The blanket was desperately clutched to her chest to cover herself as she tried to remember how she’d ended up in this situation. Having those particular memories resurface didn’t make her any happier though.
Asella had taken quite a shine to Kristina the night before in the worst way possible. The sadistic mafioso princess had tickled, teased, and toyed with her entire body for hours on end in the La Botticella’s breakroom. Only the minimum amount of rest had been granted to prevent her from passing out from the torture. Harold had wandered over to help gang tickle her on occasion as well, though Francis seemed content to continue abusing Audrey the entire time.
After several hours of relentless tickling both Kristina and Audrey were too delirious to put up the slightest form of resistance anymore. At that point, the three criminals had loaded their victims into a van to drive them to some mansion in an affluent part of town. Audrey was dragged away somewhere by Harold and Francis. Kristina had been stripped naked by Asella’s maids and tied spread eagle to a bed, this very one in fact judging by the restraints still attached to the four corners. There her naked body had been terrorized until nearly the crack of dawn by a lingerie-clad Asella alongside a pair of her personal maids. That part was a blur of being overwhelmed by the non-stop tickling to the extent she couldn’t remember how they’d played with her. Not that she wanted to, thinking on the subject with a shudder.
A knock at the door stirred Kristina out of her remembrance with a yelp of surprise. She nervously held onto the bedsheets to keep her body covered seeing an older man enter the room.
“Ms. Sharpe, I presume?” he asked.
“W-who are you!?”
“Pardon the intrusion, Ms. Sharpe. My name is Leonardo. I work as a butler at the esteemed Prim Manor.” He certainly looked the part to Kristina. Leonardo was an older man with graying hair, an impressively long handlebar mustache, and had arrived dressed in a crisply pressed three piece suit complete with white gloves. The older gentleman swooped into a perfectly executed deep bow as part of his introduction. “I come bearing a fresh change of clothes. I am given to understand our young mistress has made quite a mess of your previous ones. Please get dressed post haste. The master has a message he would like passed on to you.”
Coming out of the bow revealed that Leonardo had a set of neatly folded clothes under one arm. Kristina waited for him to deposit them on a nearby table and excuse himself from the room before shuffling out of bed to check them out. The clothes that’d been provided to her were a simple sleeveless pink dress matching her hair color, high quality silk woman’s underwear, and ankle-strap open toe sandals. It didn’t escape her notice that the dress was a little short for her tastes, barely reaching her thighs at all, and the entire outfit left her underarms, thighs, and feet visible. Asella had her hand in this choice of wardrobe, no doubt.
The young woman hesitated before putting them on at first, but a combination of not wanting to go around naked and Leonardo’s message that “the master” had a message for her got her moving. Annoying the head of a crime family by dallying was a terrifying thought on a good day and the past 24 hours of dealing with criminals had been anything but good. Kristina slipped into the clothes feeling vaguely put off that they actually fit better than her usual wardrobe. Leonardo has also been considerate enough to leave her a few tablets of painkillers and a glass of water which she gratefully downed before heading out to meet him in the corridor.
“You look lovely.” Leonardo complimented her with a kind smile as she emerged from the room.
“Thanks…”
“Please follow me.” The old butler turned on his heel to set off down the corridor. Kristina had problems getting her aching body to keep up at first until the kindly old man slowed down to match her pace. Once they settled into a comfortable gait he began to explain. “The master’s message is simple: Do not under any circumstances talk about any interaction you had with our young mistress Asella Prim, Misters Harold and Francis, or the police officer Audrey Owens, whom you may know under the name Andrea.”
“Oh… Okay. I promise not to say anything,” said Kristina.
“Very good. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Sharpe.”
The path Leonardo was leading her on led to the foyer. Much to Kristina’s surprise, instead of leading her out the front door the older man instead turned to a small door by the staircase. Opening it revealed a staircase leading down to the basement. “Now, this is a follow up from Ms. Prim. This way, if you will.”
Something about heading down the staircase made the hairs on the back of Kristina’s neck stand on end. She briefly considered trying to make a break for the front door, but the butler’s watchful gaze made her give up on the idea. Following Leonardo down the stairs soon greeted the young secretary with a sound that made her sick to her stomach. She’d grown much too familiar with that noise last night. It was laughter. Tortured, agonized laughter being wrung out of lungs working overtime to force out every last bit of air available in a person’s body.
A second door at the bottom of the staircase greeted the pair with a sight that made Kristina want to cry. Sitting on a sturdy wooden chair in the middle of the cellar was Audrey Owens. At some point she’d been stripped completely naked, her feet were locked in stocks with each individual toe tied back by lengths of twine, and her hands had been bound above her head by metal manacles attached to the ceiling. The olive-skinned beauty was being forced to scream with laughter by a quartet of women in maid outfits. One was swiping a feather duster in each hand all over her bare breasts and underarms while another two were putting all 10 fingers to work on each of her immobilized soles. The fourth was kneeling by the bound woman’s legs to press a vibrator against her unprotected clit.
As Kristina watched, Audrey was slowly brought to orgasm through the intense ticklish sensations wracking her body. That was her torturers' signal to step things up. The two working over her feet stopped tickling briefly in order to put on rubber cat brushing gloves. Each glove was wide enough that the maids scrubbing them against Audrey’s immobilized soles covered the entire area from her toes down to the arches of her feet in their maddeningly flexible rubber tips. The maid attending to her upper body dropped the feather dusters in favor of a pair of hairbrushes that were put to work inside Audrey’s armpits. As she tickled she moved around to Audrey’s back so the maid wielding the vibrator could start skittering her nails all over the woman’s bouncing chest and sopping wet pussy.
Audrey went completely berserk. It was clearly far more intense torture than the police officer could withstand. She screamed and hollered with laughter in ticklish agony, her face a horrible rictus of tears streaming down her face into the widest, most pained smile Kristina had ever seen. Her body thrashed against its bondage so hard the secretary was convinced she was going to hurt herself. In spite of this, the maids were merciless. They continued to hammer their assigned spots with a single-minded focus for the next several minutes without pause. Once those several minutes were up they stopped tickling for a minute in order to apply a copious amount of baby oil to all the spots they’d been tickling before restarting the process from the beginning.
“Ms. Owens has been attended to like this ever since you both arrived last night. My master usually has a preference for more perfunctory forms of punishment for traitors, but Ms. Prim was quite insistent. I personally was surprised when Misters Francis and Harold both vouched for its effectiveness!” Leonardo explained in a gentle voice like he was talking about a scene of an abandoned kitten being nursed back to health. “I’m given to understand Ms. Owen is to be kept like this for the foreseeable future. Our business does not take kindly to the intervention of law enforcement and even less so to those who abandon their oath of fealty. I believe the idea is to make an example out of Ms. Owen as to what happens if a person is both.”
Kristina was so transfixed with horror by the display in front of her that she didn’t hear a single part of Leonardo’s explanation. Having a second figure approach her from the side caught her so off guard that the following tap on the shoulder made her let out a scream of fright. Whipping around to see who it was made her heart sink. It was none other than Asella Prim, the very last person she ever wanted to see again. Kristina had been too preoccupied with the sight of Audrey being tortured to notice that Asella had also been watching with every sign of enjoyment.
The young mistress beckoned Kristina to follow her with a finger then set off up the staircase. Kristina shot Leonardo a frightful look. His encouraging nod in response was anything but. The young secretary fearfully left the basement, fully convinced she was about to be horribly tickled again. Much to her surprise, when she got back up to the foyer she saw Asella opening the large double doors that served as a front entrance to the manor.
“Y-you’re letting me go?” Kristina asked.
“As much as I’d love to keep you, we’ve been drawing too much attention from the police recently. Papa says keeping Audrey is enough of a risk as is. Adding you on top is more of a complication than he’s willing to take on at the moment, Ms. Not a Police Officer” Asella explained. One hand dug around in her purse briefly to pull out a cellphone. Kristina recognized it as her own. Shaking hands reached out to accept it.
She nearly dropped it out of surprise when the phone immediately began playing an energetic pop song featuring Italian lyrics she’d never heard before. “My Bestie” was displayed on the front over a number she didn’t recognize.
“I took the opportunity to add my number to your contacts list. The ringtone’s one of my favorite songs to let you know it’s me. I can’t force you to stay here, but there’s nothing saying it’s wrong to invite over a new friend to play from time to time!” Asella’s words nearly gave Kristina a heart attack with terror. The mafioso princess cheerfully held up her own phone to show that she was the one calling. “Pick up within three rings and keep your weekends open, okay? I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
The walk down the flight of steps outside the front door was the longest 5 steps of Kristina’s life. A valet who looked to be in his mid-20s standing in front of a limousine greeted her at the bottom.
“Would you prefer to be taken to your hotel or straight to your apartment?” he asked.
“T-the hotel please.”
Kristina Sharpe was so lost in thought as she clambered into the limousine that she was barely aware of the drive out of the estate. It didn’t really matter though. She had the sinking feeling she was going to be seeing this place quite frequently in the near future.
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