ShadowTklr
3rd Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2002
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Well, Boils & Ghouls, it's that time of year again, when I simply must re-post this story for the reading pleasure of those among you who have not yet read this. Enjoy, and sleep tight...if you can...Mooahahahahaha! 
Asylum Seven
By ShadowTklr
Corinne Shepard stood at the entrance of the old building, her sparkling emerald green eyes peering as she craned her neck upward like a tourist seeing a skyscraper for the first time. Her long, auburn mane whisked with the strong midnight breeze like so many fronds of a willow tree. She was awestruck at the sight of the tremendous building before her.
A Purple haze overshadowed the night as crimson tinted clouds floated lazily through the black night sky overhead. A brightly hued crescent moon peeked favorably from behind its vaporous obstructions, to once again cascade rays of cool light to the earth below. As Corinne continued to gaze upward, past the roofline, she began to feel as if the very ground beneath her were moving in opposition to the direction of the clouds. She wavered in her step momentarily, and had to look down again to regain her balance.
It had been a long journey for the young parapsychologist, who at 32 years of age and beautiful, remained unmarried and convinced that happiness lie not with a man, but with her lifelong passion and desire to be the first psychologist to actually document proof of the supernatural. Even this trip to the mountains was a long journey, but not long enough to keep her from her daring escapade to this forbidden place.
She looked back over her shoulder at the twisted black metal gates on either side of the road, partially hidden by the thick underbrush of Ivy. This was it. This would be the culmination of all her hard work and research. Nothing would keep her from investigating this place - not the county which refused to give her a permit of temporary occupancy; not the critics who practically laughed in her face at the idea of trying to prove the stories that kept this place a legend for over 200 years; and not even the arduous trek of traversing unpaved, broken roads up a winding country mountainside. Corinne was determined by whatever courage exists in the hearts of true believers.
The place: Feather Oaks Asylum For Women - a 230 year old asylum abandoned since its closing in 1899 with a notorious past that preceded even the slightest whisper of its name. A large rusted, but still readable sign bearing its namesake still adorned the vertical, spires of the gate. The wind swept leaves and small tree branches across its face, as it creaked and moaned repeatedly to one side, before clanging itself restlessly against the remnants of its supporting bars. Corinne stood almost motionless, taking in the sights and sounds of this isolated and unkempt monolith. Corinne could not have chosen a better location to gather inspiration for her new book. The stories surrounding Feather Oaks made the Amityville Horror house look like an episode from Casper, the Friendly Ghost.
Corinne approached the front doors - two tall, thick and heavy wooden slabs with large cast iron rings, as though prescribed by a b-rated horror movie script of years gone past. She tugged, and pushed at the doors, half expecting them to give way to her limited might. At 5'7" and 125 lbs., Corinne lacked the bulk and momentum necessary to overcome the sheer massiveness of the two doors. She whipped her head to one side deliberately in order to swing some stray hairs back into their rightful place, bent over and rummaged through her large, black duffel bag, before returning to her upright position bearing a heavy-duty flashlight in one hand, and crow bar in another.
Donned in her Jeans, sweatshirt and hiking boots with thick gray socks, Corinne made her way around the side of the building in search of any possible entrance into this place. She ran the palms and fingertips of her hands over the rough face of the old Asylum as she walked slowly around it, noting how much of the character and integrity of the stone remained intact after so many years. She found no windows, no doors - not even an outside trap door that would have led to the courtyard from the inside as was the custom with so many buildings of this era. Her quest would take her in a complete circle back to the front of the building, where to her shock she would find the front doors ajar. She stepped gingerly toward the partially opened doors, checking the jams, locks and hinges - for what, she could not be certain. She reasoned that she must have loosened them somehow from her initial attempt to open them.
Corinne shined her flashlight into the open cavity of the front entrance, poking her head in briefly before allowing her entire body to follow suit. Hiking the duffel bag more securely over her shoulder, she entered all the way, moving about inside as a cat burglar might do in a heavily guarded art museum. The single beam of light emanating from her flashlight zipped and swung about from side to side like a knight's sword.
She passed through what she figured must have been the foyer, by now depleted of any and all furniture, light fixtures and other valuables left behind. The inside walls represented the other side of the large stone blocks used to construct this building. Their dark gray, pitted surfaces reeked of a musty dampness undoubtedly fermenting for 100 years.
Corinne saw many hallways leading in different directions from the main foyer. Each hallway was lined with heavy metal doors that marked the entrances to so many patients' quarters. She selected a room closest to the front entrance, in case she should have to flee in a hurry, and prepared to bed down for the night. Tomorrow would be a busy day and she would need her rest.
Corinne pulled a blanket from her duffel bag and laid it over the bare springs of a cot frame that must have lost its bedding years ago. A few emergency candles were placed between crevices in the stone walls, created by eroding mortar. Next, Corinne took out her trusty cameras, and audio tape recorder.
Corinne's thoughts drifted to the many stories about this place. She noted the thick doors at each room, and opined about how 200 years ago, asylums were merely prisons. But this prison had a legend all its own. She was thinking, of course of the very legend that gave Feather Oaks its reputation; She was thinking of the woman they called "Mistress."
Mistress was a cruel and sadistic overseer. Her real name had been Margaret Temper, which was a fitting name considering her demeanor, but she insisted on the title. Rumor had her as a brunette 6'3" in her stocking feet, and was one of the most voluptuous women that anyone had ever seen. She was noted to have had deep-set, brown eyes, and when she looked at you, there was little you could do to escape her will. Most of her "patients" were wayward girls, prostitutes, and unfaithful wives, all of whom either had no family to speak of, or who'd been abandoned by their relatives or former lovers. None of them were crazy by anyone's definition, but Mistress offered a community service, helping the rich and powerful politely dispose of their dirty little secrets. Due to the unsightly and nearly unreachable locale, no one ever visited the asylum. Mistress acted with impunity and feared no outside intervention.
Corinne sat cross-legged atop the cot and began scribbling notes into her journal, trying to make accurate depictions of what life must have been like for so many trapped and helpless women. Her mind wandered to stories told by eyewitnesses for over 80 years that claimed of seeing the dreaded Mistress - the notorious torturer of Feather Oaks.
Margaret Virginia Temper was born out of wedlock to a patient of the facility the very year it opened, and was raised by the staff there until she was old enough to take some responsibility herself. Although Feather Oaks official position was that they did not employ a formal torturer, Mistress acted in that very capacity from the time she was 16 years old. She was credited with having created some of the most horrific dungeon-like conditions imaginable before disappearing suddenly without a trace. Rumor has it that during an uprising, patients killed her, and walled her body up somewhere in the dungeon.
The Dungeon was the place that Mistress had her misbehaving patients taken for punishment. The dungeon had become Mistress's private torture chamber, housing dozens of wrongfully committed women and many devices of frighteningly immobilizing restraint. No one knew for sure what purpose these devices of restraint had, but often, at night, sounds of indescribable howling laughter and shrieking cries of inhuman cackling could be heard bursting from the depths of the dark, lonely dungeon.
Now, it is said that Margaret Temper roams the halls of the ghostly building in search of fresh victims for her nightly tortures. There is also a rumor that the last Administrator, Lillian Becker who worked there just before it closed vanished within the walls of Feather Oaks without a trace some 100 years ago. If you listen carefully, at night, you can hear her cries for help, abruptly broken by the seizing screams of her own choking, muffled laughter. The dungeon was an underground chamber, the passageway of which was said to be hidden. That would be Corinne's mission during her stay - find the dungeon, and document any disturbances.
As Corinne wrote in her journal, she glanced at her watch: 1:00am. As if on cue, Corinne was startled by an abruptly strange sound. Her head snapped up to attention and her eyes grew large and scoured the room for any signs of another presence. The sound was distant, and weak, but it sounded like laughter - female laughter. The laughter was low and guttural, as though someone was chuckling with evil delight. Corinne hopped off of her cot, dropping her journal and pen to the floor carelessly. She grabbed her flashlight and wandered out into the hallway. The distant sound faded almost as suddenly as it had started, giving Corinne no further clues as to where it was coming from.
Arming herself with her camera and audio tape recorder, Corinne began investigating the halls of the old asylum. Whatever sounds she had just heard started up again. They were just as distant as before, only this time there was a distinct direction from which they were coming. She pointed her flashlight down an end corridor, and walked shakily toward the noise. The noise grew more intense and the distinction was quite clear. It was definitely female laughter. The laughter was followed by an agonizing screaming that Corinne was hard pressed to comprehend. Each broken, thrusting howl was separated by a desperate gasping, immediately followed by another bout of desperate wailing.
Corinne was herself in a panic by this time, shaking and sweating as she scrambled to find her way back to her room. In her haste and confusion, she had completely forgotten to turn on her audio tape recorder on. She walked down the last corridor, shining her flashlight beam with a quivering hand in the direction of her movement. Her search brought her to the end of the hallway, the back wall of which had a large plank of wood covering it over. Corinne looked upon it curiously trying to determine why it was there. The laughter, she noted, appeared to be coming from behind it somehow. She shined her light onto the wall. Once again, as suddenly as the sounds had begun, they stopped. A deafening quiet soon followed, and Corinne found herself noticeably shaken by the experience. Gathering her senses, she looked down at her belt to find that she had forgotten to record anything. Undaunted, Corinne attempted to tug at the wooden plank that covered the back wall of the hallway. All the budging in the world wasn't going to get it off.
Corinne returned to her room to write down what she had just heard in her journal while it was still fresh in her mind. As she pressed the pen to the paper, Corinne was again startled by the sounds of piteous pleading. She gasped and looked up quickly. There was nothing there. She hopped up again and ran to the door, peeking her head out and looking in both directions. Reaching for a crowbar, Corinne set out to find the source of these sounds.
She followed the ungodly sounds through the blackened hallways until she arrived at the back wall with the wooden plank. Corinne was convinced that whatever she was hearing was behind that wall. She began tugging and pulling at the wooden plank with the crowbar.
In one final tug, she managed to pop the supporting plank from its place on the wall. It fell to the ground with a hollow bang. What was revealed to Corinne was a most astounding sight. It was an archway opening to a winding stone staircase, the walls of which were adorned by the rotted remains of 200 year old torches that seemed to descend endlessly into complete darkness. Corinne looked on with her mouth agape, partly because her fear had momentarily stolen her ability to move or scream, and partly due to her overwhelming curiosity.
When she reached the base of the stairs, she was confronted by a large wooden door, behind from which bright light crept between and under the cracks left from it being slightly ajar. The door had a single barred window in the center that Corinne used to peek through. Her heart pounded like a sledgehammer in her throat as she lifted her head slowly up to the small cut-out. All she could see was a wide corridor, lined with rusted metal doors, all of which had similar single barred windows in the center. By now, the laughter was ringing in Corinne's ears. Never before had she heard such wrenching laughter and screams. She pushed gently at the door separating her from the corridor and it opened effortlessly.
Corinne stepped tentatively over the threshold, feeling as though she were about to trespass over a time line that would breach the very nature of what she believed was real. Corinne was surrounded by the sounds of multiple hysteria - a maddening symphony of ill-tuned vocal chords straining to the limits of their endurance rushed around her head with swirling intensity, emanating from behind each of the doors lining the corridor.
Corinne stepped carefully as though someone might be right there waiting for her. As soon as her foot touched the other side of the door way, all at once, the laughing screams stopped. No further sound could be heard. No panting, no residual giggles...nothing. Suddenly, the door behind her closed over, quietly clicking as the rusted metal lock found its hasp. Corinne leaped at the door, struggling to get it open again - her strains and grunts laced with sobbing, fearful tears.
In another instant, the corridor was alive once again with sound. Only this sound was not the laughter and screams, but rather the sounds of shuffling feet - distant feet that were growing closer. Heels clicked with each step - the unmistakable sound that shoes make as the flat, dry leather sole slaps against a hard stone walkway. And was that the sound of keys following close behind?
Corinne looked in horrified amazement as the figure of a huge woman, followed by a much smaller one turned the corner at the end of the corridor. The main figure was exceptionally tall, brunette with an incredible shape, dressed in all white, and when she walked, she swung her arms in a confident and menacing swagger. The second figure was about Corinne's height and followed closely behind. She was carrying a large metal ring with dozens of long, crudely shaped keys hanging from it.
Corinne watched dry mouthed as the two women walked toward her, closer and closer - their footsteps pounding as though they collectively weighed that of an elephant. Corinne clenched her teeth and fought back the wrenching sobs that were welling up inside her. The women were now only a few feet away. Corinne stared at the strong, defined legs of the tall woman, and she could see her face clearly now. She was absolutely beautiful - perhaps 34 or 35 years old. Her red lips pouted and her eyebrows arched as a cruel smile gradually formed on her lips. Corinne was sure that this was the end. But, the women didn't seem to notice she was there at all. The larger woman pointed a finger.
Corinne sat motionless for a second in stark realization.
She crept on her knees to the first door where the women had entered and lifted her head up slowly to see through the barred window. There was a small metal tag on the door that read "Asylum one." What she saw when she looked through the window made her heart jump in her chest.
There was a pretty girl, perhaps in her early 20s, short blonde hair and blue eyes with her wrists tied by wide leather thongs up over her head and fastened to a chain that hung from the ceiling. Her knees and ankles were fettered tightly with leather straps, and she had been pulled upwards until only her bare toes touched the floor. A long, dingy, yellowish garment draped loosely over her tied and stretched-out form. The hem had been lifted high past her waist, and was held there by the hands of her two captors. Her ribcage distended outward, forced by the posture of her arching back. Corinne could see that this was the girl who was laughing with such force, for she was demonstrating it right now. She was sandwiched between the two women as though in a loving embrace of affection; both had their hands under the bound woman's garment. Corinne could not see what they were doing, but she could deduce that they must be tickling this poor girl because of her electrifying reactions. The two of them were pressing their bodies against the woman, front and back, to insure complete helplessness, and then using their long fingernails to tickle her ribcage, armpits and belly beneath the nightgown. Mistress was in front and appeared to be digging gently into her upper and lower ribcage, and the one behind was moving her hands under the garment from spine to sides in an agonizingly slow horizontal sweeping motion.
The girl screeched with wild abandon, eyes fixing pitifully on the eyes of Mistress one second, and then whipping her head backward and stretching open her mouth to its widest point before howling impressively at the tops of her lungs. The statuesque Mistress smiled with a lustful satisfaction that exuded great sexual gratification. The tickling stopped momentarily, although the women did not remove their hands from beneath the girl's garment. She gasped for air, still giggling slightly. Mistress smiled.
The girl's pitch reached a piercing pinnacle before crashing down into wave after wave of hysterical, tortured laughter. Corinne watched dumbstruck at the spectacle before her. The woman tried desperately to gain some leverage to thrash about, but her body was too firmly pinioned between her two sadistic tormentors and each time she tried, her legs would give out and she would just hang there.
Again, the tickling stopped, and the girl sobbed through tortured giggles and panting fatigue.
The door opened and the two women walked out, locking the door once again behind them. Corinne was right in the line of their path, but still the women walked past her without the slightest acknowledgement of her presence. As the two figures walked down the hall, their forms gradually faded from solid, to semi transparent, to invisible.
Suddenly, the torches dowsed to darkness, and the distant sounds calmed to quiet, as though an act from a play had just ended. Corinne stood up shaken and frightened.
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Despite her ordeal, Corinne was determined to stick it out in this place. There simply had to be some rational explanation for what she had seen and Corinne was determined to find out what it was.
The next night, at precisely 1:00am, the torches burst into flames again, and the sounds of bustling people soon filled the hallways. Only this time the sounds were not coming from the depths of the dungeon, rather they were coming from the same floor she was on. She poked her head out of the room and looked down the hallway. As if taken back in time, Corinne gazed at a freshly cleaned slate floor, intact as though it was just laid. The normal smell of musty dampness had changed to one of burnt embers and kerosene as she noticed newly lit torches lining the walls.
No sooner had Corinne stepped out of her room, when she saw Mistress turn the corner, walking with four nurses. She sounded furious at them.
Corinne stood for a moment pondering her situation.
Corinne's attention was soon shifted toward the screaming of a woman now. Three nurses were dragging a struggling screeching woman of about 35 past the foyer, and down the hallway toward the stairs to the dungeon. The woman was in a crude looking straight jacket, her blonde hair was disheveled and dirty. She was flanked by two husky nurses who each had an iron grip on one of her elbows. The third nurse had each one of the woman's ankles under one arm and was leading the four of them down the hallway. Corinne gave chase, taking pictures the whole time as if she were a reporter in some foreign country, recording the battle as it unfolded.
She followed the women down the stairs to the dungeon. The woman was led down the corridor and through the door which was tagged "Asylum Two." As soon as they dragged the woman through the door, her screams became even more fearful and frenzied. Corinne followed through behind them and saw what was making the woman so crazed. In the middle of the room was a large, set of stocks spiked to the earthen floor. The nurses placed the woman's ankles in the yolk holes of the stocks, flipped a hasp on the end, and placed an iron spike through a hole in the hasp to keep the stocks closed. Next, they took what appeared to be a small burlap sack, and pulled it over the woman's head, effectively blocking out her ability see and also making her feel that much more confined. A rope was tied around the woman's head at the eyes and mouth, and loosely around the neck to keep the cloth in place. Finally, the nurses brought out a chain and draped it over the woman's torso. As one nurse pinned the woman down onto her back, the other two took two spikes and drove them through links in the chain on either side of the woman with heavy hammers, effectively pinning her to the floor. As the woman struggled and screamed, the nurses left the room.
Corinne stayed with the struggling woman, watching her intently as she writhed and grunted against her bonds. Corinne could only imagine the fear and anticipation that this poor woman must have been feeling to be so confined and locked up like this. Suddenly, the woman went stiff, and began to grunt and pant. The next moment, the cell door swung open and Mistress was standing there. Her figure was so perfectly shaped and strong looking that Corinne could only marvel at her size and curves. Mistress moved to the foot of the stocks and sat down.
At the height of this woman's torture, Mistress told Olivette that she was going to get some help, then left the woman there for 15 minutes or so. Olivette used the whole time to beg and plead for Mistress to have mercy. But she was speaking to the walls. Mistress had left, and was now returning with two more nurses.
The door to Olivette's cell flung open, and Mistress and the two nurses encircled Olivette. One sat down by her head, the other sat by her legs, and Mistress resumed her position at Olivette's bare feet. The tickling began without warning or question. Mistress went right back to tickling the outsides of Olivette's bare feet, while one nurse started tickling the inner thighs and knees with her fingers. The second nurse by Olivette's head had removed the rope from around her neck, and was now wiggling her fingers around the poor woman's neck and ears, tickling her with the slightest touches designed only to create the feeling of sheer madness.
Olivetter was beside herself with laughter.
After about 20 minutes of non-stop tickling, the woman passed out into a saving unconscious sleep. The three evil women continued to tickle the unconscious woman's body, savoring how she flopped about involuntarily. They finally gave up their wicked game, and left her tied and trapped in the cell.
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Night after night, Corinne would chronicle the sights and torments that she was witnessing. She had become so caught up in the scenarios, that she moved about the asylum with impunity, often seeking out different tortures that she thought were note worthy. After all, no one could see her, or hear her. And every night, the scene was the same. It started out with Mistress instructing her nurses to scour the asylum for the missing patient. Women were dragged down to the dungeon cells where they underwent some of the cruelest and traumatic tickling tortures that Corinne had ever seen.
She began to take note however that as each night progressed, the ghostly reenactments grew to include more and more of the asylum. It was as if the asylum were coming back to life one corridor at a time. Further investigation also revealed that the dungeon rooms, seven in all, were arranged by number to denote the severity of the tickling to be received. Asylum One was reserved for those who needed a simple reminder or were being punished for a slight transgression. Although the tickling was intense, it usually ended after one session. As the numbers increased, so did the tortures and the durations.
Corinne wondered how much more intense the tickling could become however, because what she had seen thus far was much more than she knew she would have ever been able to tolerate. She would get her chance to find out, as a punishment in Asylum 5 was just getting underway.
The woman's name was Carly. She was very short - about 5 feet, and slightly plump, although not obese. She had very long, brown hair and cute features that told Corinne she musn't have been much older than 20. She had been put in a very confining straight jacket, and left naked from the waist down, save for her slippers. Mistress had slung her over her shoulder and was carrying her to Asylum five. Once there, she dropped the girl to her feet, which were bound at the ankles to keep her from escaping. Mistress flung the door open and dragged the kicking, screaming girl into the room. She unfastened the girls ankles, and left the room before Carly could get up.
Corinne looked on with a puzzled look. This didn't even look as bad as the other ticklings she had witnessed. She wondered what was going on. Suddenly, Carly got up to her feet and ran at the door, pounding into it with her restrained arms.
Suddenly, a loud, echoing clang could be heard ringing through the corridor. Carly screamed pitifully through the barred window of her cell.
At a prescribed time, the three of them rushed her and pulled her to the floor. Two of the men grabbed her ankles and wrenched her little slippers from her feet. Carly screamed a glass breaking shriek. Mistress watched for the exact moment.
Mistress looked inquisitively at the struggling, pleading girl.
Carly lay on the floor, catching her breath and begging to be released. Suddenly the clanging began again. Carly screamed and struggled to her feet. The metal door opened and the three men were once again racing toward her, panting and growling. They wasted no time and grabbed her, tackling her to the floor and beginning an all-out tickle attack on her vulnerable lower body. And again Carly screamed the laughter of the damned, losing her breath many times as the tickling attacks found particularly soft and sensitive spots behind her knees, and right at the groin where the thigh meets the hip. At one point, the men would tickle her, and then release her long enough for her to just crawl away a few feet, then they would grab her ankles and drag her back to the original point of her tickling torture. They did this to her nearly a dozen times, and each time Carly was catapulted into a panic that no one but Carly could ever comprehend.
Again, the tickling torture stopped abruptly, and the fiends returned through the metal door. Mistress stood outside the door the whole time, laughing amusedly at the tortures befalling poor Carly. Each time the torture would cease, Carly would bring herself to her feet and run to the door to plead pitifully through the small window. Mistress would merely look into Carly's eyes, snickering evilly. The clanging began again. Carly screamed through the window, kicking the door and begging for release. The fiends dragged her from the door - her face a mask of horror yanked fitfully from Mistress's view. The fiends would then pin her down and tickle her again. This cycle went on and on and on. At one point, the fiends left the room, taking the torches with them and leaving poor Carly in the dark to await her next torture.
Corinne stood outside the door listening to the peals of unspeakable tickled laughter that was happening from within the darkened room. Soon, the laughter and screams would stop - another victim driven to fainting from the incessant tickling.
Corinne walked past the door and headed back up the stairs. But, before she could reach the top of the stairs, She heard chattering and screaming from patients up top clamoring something about Asylum Six. Corinne walked past many cell doors. Everyone was talking about the woman that was being prepared for Asylum Six. Corinne walked up and down the hallways searching for the woman they say was being prepared. She finally found her in a small room, surrounded by four nurses who were busying themselves with the task at hand.
The woman, a very tall, thin Redhead with large breasts was just placed under sedation by some concoction forced down her throat by the nurses. This drug, apparently caused muscle paralysis while maintaining the victim's ability to breath and feel. With their captive now motionless, the nurses stripped her completely and set about bandaging her from top to bottom. Long strips of Gauze wrapped around every single toe before the wrapping continued over the rest of her feet, around her ankles, up her legs and around her waist. Meticulous care was taken that each loop have no slack in it to ensure the greatest amount of immobility to her once the drug wore off. The other nurses worked just as diligently to wrap the woman's arms, crossed over her chest, pinning her arms in place without any possibility of movement. Finally, as the woman lie motionless, save for her eyes scanning the faces of her tormentors as if seeking to reach some compassion within, the gauze was wrapped slowly around her head, and neck, leaving only her eyes exposed. When the task was completed, the woman lie face up - a mimic of an Egyptian mummy in the flesh. This kind of bondage was particularly frightening to the woman, and Mistress knew this. She suffered from a mild case of claustrophobia that became acute whenever she was placed in particularly confining spaces. This was the first step of Mistress's plan for her in Asylum 6. The nurses, satisfied that they had done an exceptional job, turned and left their helpless victim bound and motionless, but fully aware, in her room.
Corinne entered the room of the mummified woman as nonchalantly as ever. She took a few pictures, and sat down next to the bound woman's form. She examined the handiwork of the nurses bondage wrap, and felt shivers run up and down her spine at the thought of her actually being confined in such a fashion. Corinne leaned over the woman's face, and in an instant, the woman's eyes met Corinne's.
Her body trembled when she saw Corinne and she began mumbling hysterically. Corinne could not believe what was happening. How was this woman able to see her? The drug was wearing off, and the woman was beginning to regain full control of her limbs. Corinne felt her blood run cold. She didn't know how to respond. The woman's eyes were pleading, reaching out to Corinne, and her body was writhing more vigorously. After several attempts to move, the woman began screaming a piercing scream through the muffling bandages. She twisted fractionally before sucking in another lung full of air and screamed again. On and on she screamed at her frustration from the confining bondage. She was suffering greatly just at her confinement. Corinne tried to calm the woman down, patting her head and holding her index finger to her mouth to symbolize quiet.
The woman was shaking her head "no" frantically.
Just then, the nurses headed back to the room and entered. The mummified woman screeched with insane abandon, wriggling helplessly on the bed and wildly scanning the room for Corinne to help her. The nurses snickered.
Corinne's problem was also immediate. At least the nurses couldn't see her just yet, but there wasn't much time. She had to find a way out, and fast. She ran frantically through the asylum, gathering her things, and stuffing them in her duffle bag. She dodged every nurse she came across, hiding just to ensure that she wouldn't be seen by anyone.
A group of nurses was coming down the hall where Corinne was hiding. She dare not chance running past them, and the only way to avoid them was to run down the stairs to the dungeon. She crossed her fingers that there would be no one downstairs in the corridor, and ran down the stairs to the bottom. There was only one room open, and that's where Corinne sought her refuge. She scooted into the room in a crouched position and hid under and behind a table. She noticed that in the middle of the room was what looked like a coffin. It was like a coffin in every way except for one. The foot of the coffin was actually a small set of stocks - the holes placed right next to each other. Corinne wondered what kind of horrible torture would befall the poor unfortunates who found themselves in there.
Moments later, Corinne heard the mummified woman's shrieking cries getting closer and closer. The shuffling of feet was louder, and the chattering of nurses soon spilled into the room where Corinne was hiding. It was the four nurses who had carried the woman out of the room upstairs. Of all the luck, corinne would have to find herself in the very same room that this woman was to be tortured.
The nurses placed the woman on the floor momentarily as one opened the lid to the coffin. She turned her head just enough to see Corinne hiding under the table. Once again, her cries became frantic and desperate. The nurses merely picked the poor woman up and placed her into the coffin. They pulled her ankles down so that they would rest on the lower half of the stocks at the foot of the box. The top half was then slid in place, holding her feet in place. The nurses then took the top of the coffin, and after making a tickling gesture in the air for the benefit of the woman's last sight, they placed the top on the coffin, securing the woman inside, in complete darkness and the most frightening immobility. One of the nurses bent over to speak to the encased woman through several holes that had been bore into either side of the box.
Within moments, Corinne heard the familiar clacking of Mistress's shoes as she approached the room. The cell door opened again, and Corinne was forced to return to her hiding place beneath the table.
The din from inside the box was becoming louder now, and Mistress crouched down at the trapped, helpless feet. She began by grabbing a piece of the gauze and slowly unwrapping her prizes.
Mistress unwrapped the helpless feet loop by loop, exposing the tender, pink flesh of her wildly wrinkling soles and twitching toes. When Mistress was complete, there were two very sensitive, and very pink size 9s sticking out of the coffin-like box of Pamella's confinement.
Mistress straddled the box, facing Pamella's head, and whispered little taunts into the box just to augment her already distressful condition.
Mistress ran her long nails over the wooden box, making a scratching noise that Corinne could only imagine would have made Pamella frantic with panic. If the movement of her feet and toes was any indication of her mental state, then Pamella was already on the verge of complete insanity.
Mistress flipped her body around to face the helpless bare feet of her latest victim. She laid her body over the top of the box, peering down at the wiggling toes, and placing both hands on Pammy's arches, she began to pet her foot bottoms as she would a kitten. Even this relatively nominal stimulation seemed to drive poor Pamella out of her mind. She began screaming and screaming repeatedly within the confines of her small, narrow wooden prison.
The petting didn't last long, and Mistress curled her fingers into talons, using the sharp points of her fingernails to rake the full length of both feet, starting at the heels and working up to the toe tips. She repeated the same single stroke over and over again. She never varied her pressure, or her pace. She just kept stroking upward, and would not pull her fingers away until she had completed the full length of both feet.
Pamella was beyond frantic. Her muffled cries were so intense that Corinne imagined she should have already passed out, but what she didn't know was that the drug ordered by Mistress made blood flow even greater to the head. It would be virtually impossible for Pamella to pass out even under the most vigorous of tickling administrations.
If one thing could be said about Mistress, it would be that she certainly knew how to mentally torture a victim as well as physically. Mistress began singing a well-known children's song of the time. She sang the song in the voice of a child, never detracting from her foot stroking, and never missing a beat.
Corinne was breathless. She was forced to stay there and bear witness to this incredible torture for as long as Mistress decided to administer it. When Mistress moved onto what she called the vibrating fingers technique, the box shook with the tortured quivers from the mummified Pamella within. The screams became long, drawn out hoarse cries. The laughter lacked the same high pitched sqeals and giggling quality, but was rather more like a steady yelling. Still, Mistress playfully tickled the twitching bare feet as the cries wore on into the night.
This was by far the most severe and traumatic tickle torture that Corinne had seen to date in this place. Each room in the dungeon had been progressively worse. If this was the torture for number six, corinne shuddered to think what could possibly be the treatment for Asylum Seven.
Pamella's frantic howling laughter was soon interupted by one of the nurses who came running into the torture cell.
The two women exited the room, leaving Corinne under the table. Corinne peaked out from a kneeling position to ensure that the women had begun ascending the starwell. She looked over at the box - Pamella's two crimson colored soles poked helplessly from the box. She could hear her panting and sobbing within. As if overcome by a sudden cruel streak, Corinne reached her hands out and tickled the exposed feet for several seconds, driving poor Pamella to screaming fits of tickled laughter. She stopped just as suddenly as she started.
Corinne made a dash for the large door that separated the stairwell from the corridor. Her heart was racing with wild anticipation to free herself from this place. As Corinne placed her hand on the large metal handle, a large hand slapped onto her shoulder, causing her to scream with intense fear. Corinne spasmed with terror, slapping the hand away, and falling to the floor, scooting herself into a corner. She looked up through blurred vision to see Mistress standing behind her - her arms folded across her massive chest. Mistress made for an ominous figure. The full realization of her height and size was thrust into Corinnes fear center of her brain in one massive push. Mistress looked down at the slight woman and smiled.
Corinne's mind spun around like a class 5 tornado. It almost hurt to think, and her internal organs felt as though they were forming a mutiny against her body. In one tremendous burst of panicked energy, Corinne leapt up and screamed like a lunatic as she ran up the stairs. A moment later, four nurses were dragging Corinne back down into the dungeon. They held her firmly in front of Mistress.
Asylum Seven
By ShadowTklr
Corinne Shepard stood at the entrance of the old building, her sparkling emerald green eyes peering as she craned her neck upward like a tourist seeing a skyscraper for the first time. Her long, auburn mane whisked with the strong midnight breeze like so many fronds of a willow tree. She was awestruck at the sight of the tremendous building before her.
A Purple haze overshadowed the night as crimson tinted clouds floated lazily through the black night sky overhead. A brightly hued crescent moon peeked favorably from behind its vaporous obstructions, to once again cascade rays of cool light to the earth below. As Corinne continued to gaze upward, past the roofline, she began to feel as if the very ground beneath her were moving in opposition to the direction of the clouds. She wavered in her step momentarily, and had to look down again to regain her balance.
It had been a long journey for the young parapsychologist, who at 32 years of age and beautiful, remained unmarried and convinced that happiness lie not with a man, but with her lifelong passion and desire to be the first psychologist to actually document proof of the supernatural. Even this trip to the mountains was a long journey, but not long enough to keep her from her daring escapade to this forbidden place.
She looked back over her shoulder at the twisted black metal gates on either side of the road, partially hidden by the thick underbrush of Ivy. This was it. This would be the culmination of all her hard work and research. Nothing would keep her from investigating this place - not the county which refused to give her a permit of temporary occupancy; not the critics who practically laughed in her face at the idea of trying to prove the stories that kept this place a legend for over 200 years; and not even the arduous trek of traversing unpaved, broken roads up a winding country mountainside. Corinne was determined by whatever courage exists in the hearts of true believers.
The place: Feather Oaks Asylum For Women - a 230 year old asylum abandoned since its closing in 1899 with a notorious past that preceded even the slightest whisper of its name. A large rusted, but still readable sign bearing its namesake still adorned the vertical, spires of the gate. The wind swept leaves and small tree branches across its face, as it creaked and moaned repeatedly to one side, before clanging itself restlessly against the remnants of its supporting bars. Corinne stood almost motionless, taking in the sights and sounds of this isolated and unkempt monolith. Corinne could not have chosen a better location to gather inspiration for her new book. The stories surrounding Feather Oaks made the Amityville Horror house look like an episode from Casper, the Friendly Ghost.
Corinne approached the front doors - two tall, thick and heavy wooden slabs with large cast iron rings, as though prescribed by a b-rated horror movie script of years gone past. She tugged, and pushed at the doors, half expecting them to give way to her limited might. At 5'7" and 125 lbs., Corinne lacked the bulk and momentum necessary to overcome the sheer massiveness of the two doors. She whipped her head to one side deliberately in order to swing some stray hairs back into their rightful place, bent over and rummaged through her large, black duffel bag, before returning to her upright position bearing a heavy-duty flashlight in one hand, and crow bar in another.
Donned in her Jeans, sweatshirt and hiking boots with thick gray socks, Corinne made her way around the side of the building in search of any possible entrance into this place. She ran the palms and fingertips of her hands over the rough face of the old Asylum as she walked slowly around it, noting how much of the character and integrity of the stone remained intact after so many years. She found no windows, no doors - not even an outside trap door that would have led to the courtyard from the inside as was the custom with so many buildings of this era. Her quest would take her in a complete circle back to the front of the building, where to her shock she would find the front doors ajar. She stepped gingerly toward the partially opened doors, checking the jams, locks and hinges - for what, she could not be certain. She reasoned that she must have loosened them somehow from her initial attempt to open them.
Corinne shined her flashlight into the open cavity of the front entrance, poking her head in briefly before allowing her entire body to follow suit. Hiking the duffel bag more securely over her shoulder, she entered all the way, moving about inside as a cat burglar might do in a heavily guarded art museum. The single beam of light emanating from her flashlight zipped and swung about from side to side like a knight's sword.
She passed through what she figured must have been the foyer, by now depleted of any and all furniture, light fixtures and other valuables left behind. The inside walls represented the other side of the large stone blocks used to construct this building. Their dark gray, pitted surfaces reeked of a musty dampness undoubtedly fermenting for 100 years.
Corinne saw many hallways leading in different directions from the main foyer. Each hallway was lined with heavy metal doors that marked the entrances to so many patients' quarters. She selected a room closest to the front entrance, in case she should have to flee in a hurry, and prepared to bed down for the night. Tomorrow would be a busy day and she would need her rest.
Corinne pulled a blanket from her duffel bag and laid it over the bare springs of a cot frame that must have lost its bedding years ago. A few emergency candles were placed between crevices in the stone walls, created by eroding mortar. Next, Corinne took out her trusty cameras, and audio tape recorder.
Corinne's thoughts drifted to the many stories about this place. She noted the thick doors at each room, and opined about how 200 years ago, asylums were merely prisons. But this prison had a legend all its own. She was thinking, of course of the very legend that gave Feather Oaks its reputation; She was thinking of the woman they called "Mistress."
Mistress was a cruel and sadistic overseer. Her real name had been Margaret Temper, which was a fitting name considering her demeanor, but she insisted on the title. Rumor had her as a brunette 6'3" in her stocking feet, and was one of the most voluptuous women that anyone had ever seen. She was noted to have had deep-set, brown eyes, and when she looked at you, there was little you could do to escape her will. Most of her "patients" were wayward girls, prostitutes, and unfaithful wives, all of whom either had no family to speak of, or who'd been abandoned by their relatives or former lovers. None of them were crazy by anyone's definition, but Mistress offered a community service, helping the rich and powerful politely dispose of their dirty little secrets. Due to the unsightly and nearly unreachable locale, no one ever visited the asylum. Mistress acted with impunity and feared no outside intervention.
Corinne sat cross-legged atop the cot and began scribbling notes into her journal, trying to make accurate depictions of what life must have been like for so many trapped and helpless women. Her mind wandered to stories told by eyewitnesses for over 80 years that claimed of seeing the dreaded Mistress - the notorious torturer of Feather Oaks.
Margaret Virginia Temper was born out of wedlock to a patient of the facility the very year it opened, and was raised by the staff there until she was old enough to take some responsibility herself. Although Feather Oaks official position was that they did not employ a formal torturer, Mistress acted in that very capacity from the time she was 16 years old. She was credited with having created some of the most horrific dungeon-like conditions imaginable before disappearing suddenly without a trace. Rumor has it that during an uprising, patients killed her, and walled her body up somewhere in the dungeon.
The Dungeon was the place that Mistress had her misbehaving patients taken for punishment. The dungeon had become Mistress's private torture chamber, housing dozens of wrongfully committed women and many devices of frighteningly immobilizing restraint. No one knew for sure what purpose these devices of restraint had, but often, at night, sounds of indescribable howling laughter and shrieking cries of inhuman cackling could be heard bursting from the depths of the dark, lonely dungeon.
Now, it is said that Margaret Temper roams the halls of the ghostly building in search of fresh victims for her nightly tortures. There is also a rumor that the last Administrator, Lillian Becker who worked there just before it closed vanished within the walls of Feather Oaks without a trace some 100 years ago. If you listen carefully, at night, you can hear her cries for help, abruptly broken by the seizing screams of her own choking, muffled laughter. The dungeon was an underground chamber, the passageway of which was said to be hidden. That would be Corinne's mission during her stay - find the dungeon, and document any disturbances.
As Corinne wrote in her journal, she glanced at her watch: 1:00am. As if on cue, Corinne was startled by an abruptly strange sound. Her head snapped up to attention and her eyes grew large and scoured the room for any signs of another presence. The sound was distant, and weak, but it sounded like laughter - female laughter. The laughter was low and guttural, as though someone was chuckling with evil delight. Corinne hopped off of her cot, dropping her journal and pen to the floor carelessly. She grabbed her flashlight and wandered out into the hallway. The distant sound faded almost as suddenly as it had started, giving Corinne no further clues as to where it was coming from.
Arming herself with her camera and audio tape recorder, Corinne began investigating the halls of the old asylum. Whatever sounds she had just heard started up again. They were just as distant as before, only this time there was a distinct direction from which they were coming. She pointed her flashlight down an end corridor, and walked shakily toward the noise. The noise grew more intense and the distinction was quite clear. It was definitely female laughter. The laughter was followed by an agonizing screaming that Corinne was hard pressed to comprehend. Each broken, thrusting howl was separated by a desperate gasping, immediately followed by another bout of desperate wailing.
Corinne was herself in a panic by this time, shaking and sweating as she scrambled to find her way back to her room. In her haste and confusion, she had completely forgotten to turn on her audio tape recorder on. She walked down the last corridor, shining her flashlight beam with a quivering hand in the direction of her movement. Her search brought her to the end of the hallway, the back wall of which had a large plank of wood covering it over. Corinne looked upon it curiously trying to determine why it was there. The laughter, she noted, appeared to be coming from behind it somehow. She shined her light onto the wall. Once again, as suddenly as the sounds had begun, they stopped. A deafening quiet soon followed, and Corinne found herself noticeably shaken by the experience. Gathering her senses, she looked down at her belt to find that she had forgotten to record anything. Undaunted, Corinne attempted to tug at the wooden plank that covered the back wall of the hallway. All the budging in the world wasn't going to get it off.
Corinne returned to her room to write down what she had just heard in her journal while it was still fresh in her mind. As she pressed the pen to the paper, Corinne was again startled by the sounds of piteous pleading. She gasped and looked up quickly. There was nothing there. She hopped up again and ran to the door, peeking her head out and looking in both directions. Reaching for a crowbar, Corinne set out to find the source of these sounds.
She followed the ungodly sounds through the blackened hallways until she arrived at the back wall with the wooden plank. Corinne was convinced that whatever she was hearing was behind that wall. She began tugging and pulling at the wooden plank with the crowbar.
In one final tug, she managed to pop the supporting plank from its place on the wall. It fell to the ground with a hollow bang. What was revealed to Corinne was a most astounding sight. It was an archway opening to a winding stone staircase, the walls of which were adorned by the rotted remains of 200 year old torches that seemed to descend endlessly into complete darkness. Corinne looked on with her mouth agape, partly because her fear had momentarily stolen her ability to move or scream, and partly due to her overwhelming curiosity.
"Oh my God." She cried in a half whisper. "I must be dreaming."
The cries of pitiful laughter continued to assail her ears and all at once Corinne felt compelled to investigate. She descended the stairs slowly, her knees shaking with mind-numbing fear, but still she felt driven to continue. Suddenly, the torches lining the stairwell burst into flames all at once, as the laughing cries funneled loudly upward, reverberating off of the stone walls creating a cacophony of cackling sound - closer and closer. When she reached the base of the stairs, she was confronted by a large wooden door, behind from which bright light crept between and under the cracks left from it being slightly ajar. The door had a single barred window in the center that Corinne used to peek through. Her heart pounded like a sledgehammer in her throat as she lifted her head slowly up to the small cut-out. All she could see was a wide corridor, lined with rusted metal doors, all of which had similar single barred windows in the center. By now, the laughter was ringing in Corinne's ears. Never before had she heard such wrenching laughter and screams. She pushed gently at the door separating her from the corridor and it opened effortlessly.
Corinne stepped tentatively over the threshold, feeling as though she were about to trespass over a time line that would breach the very nature of what she believed was real. Corinne was surrounded by the sounds of multiple hysteria - a maddening symphony of ill-tuned vocal chords straining to the limits of their endurance rushed around her head with swirling intensity, emanating from behind each of the doors lining the corridor.
Corinne stepped carefully as though someone might be right there waiting for her. As soon as her foot touched the other side of the door way, all at once, the laughing screams stopped. No further sound could be heard. No panting, no residual giggles...nothing. Suddenly, the door behind her closed over, quietly clicking as the rusted metal lock found its hasp. Corinne leaped at the door, struggling to get it open again - her strains and grunts laced with sobbing, fearful tears.
"No!" She wailed as she tugged repeatedly at the door handle. "Somebody help meeee!"
The door however would not budge, and as fatigue overcame Corinne, she slipped tiredly to the floor, still clenching the large door handle, crying in short staccato gasps as she resigned herself to her immediate predicament. From her kneeling position, Corinne turned her head slowly to look down the corridor. Corinne was sure that the enveloping silence was but a precursor of something sinister to come. All at once, the hallway appeared to elongate like the sections of an old telescope now becoming nearly twice its length. Corinne's eyes opened wide and she cowered in the corner staring in abject horror and disbelief.In another instant, the corridor was alive once again with sound. Only this sound was not the laughter and screams, but rather the sounds of shuffling feet - distant feet that were growing closer. Heels clicked with each step - the unmistakable sound that shoes make as the flat, dry leather sole slaps against a hard stone walkway. And was that the sound of keys following close behind?
Corinne looked in horrified amazement as the figure of a huge woman, followed by a much smaller one turned the corner at the end of the corridor. The main figure was exceptionally tall, brunette with an incredible shape, dressed in all white, and when she walked, she swung her arms in a confident and menacing swagger. The second figure was about Corinne's height and followed closely behind. She was carrying a large metal ring with dozens of long, crudely shaped keys hanging from it.
Corinne watched dry mouthed as the two women walked toward her, closer and closer - their footsteps pounding as though they collectively weighed that of an elephant. Corinne clenched her teeth and fought back the wrenching sobs that were welling up inside her. The women were now only a few feet away. Corinne stared at the strong, defined legs of the tall woman, and she could see her face clearly now. She was absolutely beautiful - perhaps 34 or 35 years old. Her red lips pouted and her eyebrows arched as a cruel smile gradually formed on her lips. Corinne was sure that this was the end. But, the women didn't seem to notice she was there at all. The larger woman pointed a finger.
"This one." She said matter-of-factly to the smaller woman who reached for the corresponding key that would open the door.
The woman placed the key in the lock and Corinne heard the loud click as the door was opened. The door creaked slightly, and from the first step of the large woman into the cell, Corinne could hear a rapid fire pleading coming from someone within. The voice was hoarse and tired, but it was sincere and desperate as well. "Mistress! Oh god please. No more. I'm sorry. Please. Have mercy."
A girl's voice that was clear as the door opened, became somewhat duller as the two women entered the room and closed the door behind them, finalizing their action with the clicking of the lock. Corinne sat motionless for a second in stark realization.
"Mistress?" She mouthed the word again and again. "That can't be. It just can't be."
Suddenly, the pleading girl's voice changed to a more urgent temper and tenor. The pleading escalated more rapidly and with great thrust, but was suddenly cut short by the burst of fitful laughter. "I'll be good! I'll be good! Please don't don't don't-HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAIIIEEEEE STA HA HA HA HA HAP! NOOOOO! STOP STOP STOP IT! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAA!"
The girl sounded as though she was coming apart at the seams. The sound of her laughter chilled Corinne to the very core of her soul. She just had to see what was going on.She crept on her knees to the first door where the women had entered and lifted her head up slowly to see through the barred window. There was a small metal tag on the door that read "Asylum one." What she saw when she looked through the window made her heart jump in her chest.
There was a pretty girl, perhaps in her early 20s, short blonde hair and blue eyes with her wrists tied by wide leather thongs up over her head and fastened to a chain that hung from the ceiling. Her knees and ankles were fettered tightly with leather straps, and she had been pulled upwards until only her bare toes touched the floor. A long, dingy, yellowish garment draped loosely over her tied and stretched-out form. The hem had been lifted high past her waist, and was held there by the hands of her two captors. Her ribcage distended outward, forced by the posture of her arching back. Corinne could see that this was the girl who was laughing with such force, for she was demonstrating it right now. She was sandwiched between the two women as though in a loving embrace of affection; both had their hands under the bound woman's garment. Corinne could not see what they were doing, but she could deduce that they must be tickling this poor girl because of her electrifying reactions. The two of them were pressing their bodies against the woman, front and back, to insure complete helplessness, and then using their long fingernails to tickle her ribcage, armpits and belly beneath the nightgown. Mistress was in front and appeared to be digging gently into her upper and lower ribcage, and the one behind was moving her hands under the garment from spine to sides in an agonizingly slow horizontal sweeping motion.
The girl screeched with wild abandon, eyes fixing pitifully on the eyes of Mistress one second, and then whipping her head backward and stretching open her mouth to its widest point before howling impressively at the tops of her lungs. The statuesque Mistress smiled with a lustful satisfaction that exuded great sexual gratification. The tickling stopped momentarily, although the women did not remove their hands from beneath the girl's garment. She gasped for air, still giggling slightly. Mistress smiled.
"Do you see what happens to naughty girls who do not do their chores?" She said with the sweetness of a correcting mother.
The girl fought for the opportunity to apologize, pleading for forgiveness and mercy. Mistress looked coldly at the woman and simply said "Again!"
In an instant, the tickling had renewed with great ferver.The girl's pitch reached a piercing pinnacle before crashing down into wave after wave of hysterical, tortured laughter. Corinne watched dumbstruck at the spectacle before her. The woman tried desperately to gain some leverage to thrash about, but her body was too firmly pinioned between her two sadistic tormentors and each time she tried, her legs would give out and she would just hang there.
Again, the tickling stopped, and the girl sobbed through tortured giggles and panting fatigue.
"Mistress, please! I-I-I'll be good. I promise. I'll never...no! I said I would be...Oh God!! NOOOOOOO!!! HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAA YAAAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"
The one behind her whispered something in her ear that made the girl fly into a raging fit of desperation and panic. The tickling began yet again, and her screaming laughter was even more pronounced than before. The girl's body twitched with great force as though she had been set afire, and left to burn slowly in her own juices. The tickling had grown to a furious pace as the two women snickered while tickling the girl over and over - all the while repeating the same question."Are you going to be good? Are you going to be good? Are you going to be good? Are you going to be good?"
The girl's laughter was growing still as she tried to answer Mistress again and again. It was obvious to Corinne that the girl was suffering an indescribable torment and Mistress had no intention of accepting her pleas. No matter how many times the girl swore to be good, Mistress and the other woman continued tickling her and asking the question, until in an instant, her head sank, and she went quiet. She had blacked out. Her limp body twitched and spasmed in her bonds. "That's enough." Stated Mistress in a husky voice. "We'll deal with her again later. We have others to attend to."
The door opened and the two women walked out, locking the door once again behind them. Corinne was right in the line of their path, but still the women walked past her without the slightest acknowledgement of her presence. As the two figures walked down the hall, their forms gradually faded from solid, to semi transparent, to invisible.
Suddenly, the torches dowsed to darkness, and the distant sounds calmed to quiet, as though an act from a play had just ended. Corinne stood up shaken and frightened.
"Oh my god." Corinne spoke out loud. "Where the hell am I? Better yet, WHEN the hell am I?"
**************************************************************************
Despite her ordeal, Corinne was determined to stick it out in this place. There simply had to be some rational explanation for what she had seen and Corinne was determined to find out what it was.
The next night, at precisely 1:00am, the torches burst into flames again, and the sounds of bustling people soon filled the hallways. Only this time the sounds were not coming from the depths of the dungeon, rather they were coming from the same floor she was on. She poked her head out of the room and looked down the hallway. As if taken back in time, Corinne gazed at a freshly cleaned slate floor, intact as though it was just laid. The normal smell of musty dampness had changed to one of burnt embers and kerosene as she noticed newly lit torches lining the walls.
No sooner had Corinne stepped out of her room, when she saw Mistress turn the corner, walking with four nurses. She sounded furious at them.
"What do you mean she's gone? How many times must you lose the same girl? Check every room. I want her found!"
The nurses all responded with the prescribed "Yes Mistress." And went about the task of finding whomever it was they were looking for.Corinne stood for a moment pondering her situation.
"They really can't see me. I must be looking at shadows of things that have already passed. For some reason, the veil between that time and this one has been breached. They really can't see me."
She felt a new sense of confidence and set out exploring with her camera in hand. She took pictures of the halls and floors; she took pictures of nurses carrying out their duties. She couldn't believe it. She felt like scrooge in a Christmas Carol, watching scenes from Christmas past where no one could see her, and she could not interact with anyone.Corinne's attention was soon shifted toward the screaming of a woman now. Three nurses were dragging a struggling screeching woman of about 35 past the foyer, and down the hallway toward the stairs to the dungeon. The woman was in a crude looking straight jacket, her blonde hair was disheveled and dirty. She was flanked by two husky nurses who each had an iron grip on one of her elbows. The third nurse had each one of the woman's ankles under one arm and was leading the four of them down the hallway. Corinne gave chase, taking pictures the whole time as if she were a reporter in some foreign country, recording the battle as it unfolded.
She followed the women down the stairs to the dungeon. The woman was led down the corridor and through the door which was tagged "Asylum Two." As soon as they dragged the woman through the door, her screams became even more fearful and frenzied. Corinne followed through behind them and saw what was making the woman so crazed. In the middle of the room was a large, set of stocks spiked to the earthen floor. The nurses placed the woman's ankles in the yolk holes of the stocks, flipped a hasp on the end, and placed an iron spike through a hole in the hasp to keep the stocks closed. Next, they took what appeared to be a small burlap sack, and pulled it over the woman's head, effectively blocking out her ability see and also making her feel that much more confined. A rope was tied around the woman's head at the eyes and mouth, and loosely around the neck to keep the cloth in place. Finally, the nurses brought out a chain and draped it over the woman's torso. As one nurse pinned the woman down onto her back, the other two took two spikes and drove them through links in the chain on either side of the woman with heavy hammers, effectively pinning her to the floor. As the woman struggled and screamed, the nurses left the room.
Corinne stayed with the struggling woman, watching her intently as she writhed and grunted against her bonds. Corinne could only imagine the fear and anticipation that this poor woman must have been feeling to be so confined and locked up like this. Suddenly, the woman went stiff, and began to grunt and pant. The next moment, the cell door swung open and Mistress was standing there. Her figure was so perfectly shaped and strong looking that Corinne could only marvel at her size and curves. Mistress moved to the foot of the stocks and sat down.
"Olivette. Olivette. Tsk tsk. How many times must you be reminded of your place? It seems that it always comes down to this, doesn't it?"
Mistress placed her fingertips at the heels of the woman's slippers, and tugged playfully, perhaps not really trying to remove them, but rather to make the woman panic and attempt to keep them on by curling her toes. Mistress simply laughed and pulled at the toes of the slippers with her fingertips. She pulled steadily and slowly, increasing her strength until one slipper popped off of the naked foot. The woman's toes, suddenly exposed to the cool air began to wiggle aimlessly, fanning and pawing as she tugged at her ankle which was immovably trapped in the heavy wooden stocks. Mistress repeated the same taunting action with the other foot, giggling like a playful lover the whole time. "Now then, let me remind you of the rules here. Shall we begin?"
The woman stiffened again in panic and wriggled like a fish out of water. "NO!" Cried the muffled woman.
The rope around her mouth obstructed her ability to make perfectly sounding words, but she was clearly understandable by Mistress."I bidn't boo angithin..Peeeessee!"
Mistress laughed out loud at her attempts to speak and simply applied the tips of her fingers at the tops of the woman's heels and tickled in that one spot rapidly with her long fingernails. The woman grunted a couple of times, allowing only sporadic giggling to escape her lips. Mistress smiled."Oh yes, that's right. I'm in the wrong spot, aren't I Livy. How about here?"
Mistress began an all-out assault on the trapped woman's feet, tickling precisely under the balls of her feet with wicked intention. The woman exploded with laughter, tugging furiously to escape. The tickling stopped."Torture, isn't it Livy. Think about it. That's what I'm going to do to you over and over and over again. I am going to tickle the balls of your feet just where you like it. Ready? Ready?"
She attacked the same spot on the balls of her feet again, and again the woman erupted with screaming laughter. Only this time, Mistress was not so inclined to pause for the woman's benefit. "AAAAAAAA AAAAAA AAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAA NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!! NOT THERE! NOT THE-HE HE HE HHA HA HA HA HA HAAAAIIIEEEE!"
The tickling appeared to be positively unbearable. Corinne sat and watched the spectacle of cruel tickling torture. Mistress was a pure sadist. She seemed to know exactly what to do to create the greatest amount of panic and suffering in her ticklish victims. And how she could tickle. She was meticulous, yet she paced her tickling to make it last. She varied her attack, tickling in places that caused inhuman cries of laughter. Mistress began tickling the outsides of the woman's feet, tickling her from ankles to little toes and back again. She wouldn't waver in her attack, and she wouldn't relent. The woman's reaction was astonishingly frenzied. This must have been a very tender spot for her. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! NOOOOOO! NOT AAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAAA HHAAAAAAAA PLEEEEEHAHAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!"
Seeing the desperate woman flopping about in such helpless restraint had an unforeseeable effect on Corinne as well. She found herself strangely aroused by the whole thing, yet she was overwhelmed with pity for this tickled woman. She felt guilty, but had to remind herself that these were things that had already happened."M-M-M-MERCEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! M-M-MERCEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Cried the cackling, thrashing woman as tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.
"You helped her didn't you? Confess!! I want to know where that little wretch is!" Mistress coldly insisted.
The woman cackled with mindless responses that can only be achieved when a hyper ticklish spot is being ruthlessly manipulated and toyed with."I-I-I CAN'T HA HA HA HA HA HA HA I DID...NOOOOOO!! HA HA HA HA AAAAAA SHE WAS (grunt) PPPPLEEEAASSEE!!! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA ASSSSSSTTTAHA HAHA HAHAPPPPP!"
Mistress simply would not let the woman answer. Corinne was bubbling over with frustration and anger. She was beginning to see that this was a trade mark technique of Mistress. She obviously enjoyed making these women gasp and panic for even the slightest break, making them cackle furiously whenever they attempted to speak - willing to do anything to get their confessions heard. Mistress simply denied them the favor of confessing once she started. She would laugh, and taunt and tease them with promises of prolonged tickling - threatening to take them from room to room until they were driven to madness. At the height of this woman's torture, Mistress told Olivette that she was going to get some help, then left the woman there for 15 minutes or so. Olivette used the whole time to beg and plead for Mistress to have mercy. But she was speaking to the walls. Mistress had left, and was now returning with two more nurses.
The door to Olivette's cell flung open, and Mistress and the two nurses encircled Olivette. One sat down by her head, the other sat by her legs, and Mistress resumed her position at Olivette's bare feet. The tickling began without warning or question. Mistress went right back to tickling the outsides of Olivette's bare feet, while one nurse started tickling the inner thighs and knees with her fingers. The second nurse by Olivette's head had removed the rope from around her neck, and was now wiggling her fingers around the poor woman's neck and ears, tickling her with the slightest touches designed only to create the feeling of sheer madness.
Olivetter was beside herself with laughter.
"D-D-D-DON'T AAAAAAAIIIIIEEEEE HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HANOOOOO NOOOOOO NOOOOO NOOOOOOOAAAAAIIIIEEEEE SSSSST-SSST-SSSSSTTAAAAAAAAAPPP!"
The three sadists tickled the woman while her body grinded against her bonds, her head twisted, her toes wriggled and curled, and her bare legs slapped furiously against the soft dirt beneath her.After about 20 minutes of non-stop tickling, the woman passed out into a saving unconscious sleep. The three evil women continued to tickle the unconscious woman's body, savoring how she flopped about involuntarily. They finally gave up their wicked game, and left her tied and trapped in the cell.
*******************************************************************************
Night after night, Corinne would chronicle the sights and torments that she was witnessing. She had become so caught up in the scenarios, that she moved about the asylum with impunity, often seeking out different tortures that she thought were note worthy. After all, no one could see her, or hear her. And every night, the scene was the same. It started out with Mistress instructing her nurses to scour the asylum for the missing patient. Women were dragged down to the dungeon cells where they underwent some of the cruelest and traumatic tickling tortures that Corinne had ever seen.
She began to take note however that as each night progressed, the ghostly reenactments grew to include more and more of the asylum. It was as if the asylum were coming back to life one corridor at a time. Further investigation also revealed that the dungeon rooms, seven in all, were arranged by number to denote the severity of the tickling to be received. Asylum One was reserved for those who needed a simple reminder or were being punished for a slight transgression. Although the tickling was intense, it usually ended after one session. As the numbers increased, so did the tortures and the durations.
Corinne wondered how much more intense the tickling could become however, because what she had seen thus far was much more than she knew she would have ever been able to tolerate. She would get her chance to find out, as a punishment in Asylum 5 was just getting underway.
The woman's name was Carly. She was very short - about 5 feet, and slightly plump, although not obese. She had very long, brown hair and cute features that told Corinne she musn't have been much older than 20. She had been put in a very confining straight jacket, and left naked from the waist down, save for her slippers. Mistress had slung her over her shoulder and was carrying her to Asylum five. Once there, she dropped the girl to her feet, which were bound at the ankles to keep her from escaping. Mistress flung the door open and dragged the kicking, screaming girl into the room. She unfastened the girls ankles, and left the room before Carly could get up.
Corinne looked on with a puzzled look. This didn't even look as bad as the other ticklings she had witnessed. She wondered what was going on. Suddenly, Carly got up to her feet and ran at the door, pounding into it with her restrained arms.
"PLEASE LET ME OUT OF HERE! PLEASE MISTRESS! NOT THIS! ANYTHING BUT THIS! I'LL DO WHAT YOU WANT! I SWEAR. MISTRESSSSSSSSS!!"
Mistress stood outside the door peering in at the girl with her cold green eyes. She giggled at Carly's plight. She taunted her from outside the room."They're coming to get you Carly. They're going to get you. If you can kick, you just might keep them off of you this time Carly."
Apparently, Carly had been here before. But, keep what off of her. What was Mistress talking about. The answer would come soon enough.Suddenly, a loud, echoing clang could be heard ringing through the corridor. Carly screamed pitifully through the barred window of her cell.
"PLEASE DON'T DO THIS. DON'T LET THEM GET ME! PLEASE! PLEASE! AAAAAAAAAAAHAHHHHHHHHHHH!"
For several seconds the clanging got louder and louder, then from within the cell, a sliding metal door in the back of the cell opened quickly. Three crazed looking huge fellows raced into the cell and began chasing Carly in circles. It was obvious that they did not wish to catch her right at that moment, becasue the cell was not that large, but rather they wanted to stir up her panic and anticipation of what was to come. Carly screamed and kicked as she ran, trying to keep the three hulking men away from her. "NOOOOOO! GET AWAY! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!! HEELLPP!"
Carly ran into a corner and began kicking her feet aimlessly at the slowly approaching hulks. The men paused and looked at Carly with a lustful expression. Their posture told Carly that they were about to strike."NO! OH GOD NO! PLEASE DON'T! MISTRESS PLEASE! I'LL OBEY! I'LL OBEY! NO STAY AWAY STAY AWAY AAAAAAHHH!"
At a prescribed time, the three of them rushed her and pulled her to the floor. Two of the men grabbed her ankles and wrenched her little slippers from her feet. Carly screamed a glass breaking shriek. Mistress watched for the exact moment.
"Stop!"
The fiends stopped their attack but kept Carly held firmly in place. Mistress looked inquisitively at the struggling, pleading girl.
"How many times must you be told the same thing, Carly?"
Carly shrieked in panicky gusts, speaking rapidly in an attempt to get Mistress to call off the fiends."Oh God, Mistress. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please let me go. Don't let them do this to me. I can't stand it. You know this. Pleasse. I'm begging you please."
"You are very, very ticklish on your legs and feet, aren't you Carly?"
Carly's panic was growing. She new that Mistress was on a hair trigger and could call for the commencement of her torture any second."Yes Mistress. I am very ticklish, and I can't stand it. I'll do anything you say...anything! Please let me go!"
"And your arms are so trapped. You would never be able to protect those smooth legs of yours, or those sensitive little feet."
"Yes Mistress! Please! Please! Don't be so cruel!"
Mistress smiled that familiar cruel smile again, before waving her hand."I just wanted to hear you say it."
With a final smirk, she pressed her mouth to the barred window and uttered on word through her pouting lips. "Tickle!"
Carly had just enough time for a final thought."MISTRESS NO!!!!! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HAYA HA YA HA HA YA HA HA HA HA HA HA AAAAUUUUGGGGHHHH HA HA HA HA HA HAH!"
Without a word the fiends all began tickling Carly from her upper thighs to her feet, squeezing her knees, thighs, calves, and raking their nails over the soles of her feet and between her toes. Carly screamed in terrified panic before being reduced to shrieking cries of laughter. The three would keep her steady, tickling and tickling her without stop. Mistress reveled in watching the frustrating panic on Carly's face as she failed at every attempt to lower her arms to protect her ticklish ass and legs, but the straightjacket held them firmly. The sensitivity reached the point where Carly shrieked in blinding ticklishness. Then suddenly they would cease and exit through the same metal door from which they entered.Carly lay on the floor, catching her breath and begging to be released. Suddenly the clanging began again. Carly screamed and struggled to her feet. The metal door opened and the three men were once again racing toward her, panting and growling. They wasted no time and grabbed her, tackling her to the floor and beginning an all-out tickle attack on her vulnerable lower body. And again Carly screamed the laughter of the damned, losing her breath many times as the tickling attacks found particularly soft and sensitive spots behind her knees, and right at the groin where the thigh meets the hip. At one point, the men would tickle her, and then release her long enough for her to just crawl away a few feet, then they would grab her ankles and drag her back to the original point of her tickling torture. They did this to her nearly a dozen times, and each time Carly was catapulted into a panic that no one but Carly could ever comprehend.
Again, the tickling torture stopped abruptly, and the fiends returned through the metal door. Mistress stood outside the door the whole time, laughing amusedly at the tortures befalling poor Carly. Each time the torture would cease, Carly would bring herself to her feet and run to the door to plead pitifully through the small window. Mistress would merely look into Carly's eyes, snickering evilly. The clanging began again. Carly screamed through the window, kicking the door and begging for release. The fiends dragged her from the door - her face a mask of horror yanked fitfully from Mistress's view. The fiends would then pin her down and tickle her again. This cycle went on and on and on. At one point, the fiends left the room, taking the torches with them and leaving poor Carly in the dark to await her next torture.
Corinne stood outside the door listening to the peals of unspeakable tickled laughter that was happening from within the darkened room. Soon, the laughter and screams would stop - another victim driven to fainting from the incessant tickling.
Corinne walked past the door and headed back up the stairs. But, before she could reach the top of the stairs, She heard chattering and screaming from patients up top clamoring something about Asylum Six. Corinne walked past many cell doors. Everyone was talking about the woman that was being prepared for Asylum Six. Corinne walked up and down the hallways searching for the woman they say was being prepared. She finally found her in a small room, surrounded by four nurses who were busying themselves with the task at hand.
The woman, a very tall, thin Redhead with large breasts was just placed under sedation by some concoction forced down her throat by the nurses. This drug, apparently caused muscle paralysis while maintaining the victim's ability to breath and feel. With their captive now motionless, the nurses stripped her completely and set about bandaging her from top to bottom. Long strips of Gauze wrapped around every single toe before the wrapping continued over the rest of her feet, around her ankles, up her legs and around her waist. Meticulous care was taken that each loop have no slack in it to ensure the greatest amount of immobility to her once the drug wore off. The other nurses worked just as diligently to wrap the woman's arms, crossed over her chest, pinning her arms in place without any possibility of movement. Finally, as the woman lie motionless, save for her eyes scanning the faces of her tormentors as if seeking to reach some compassion within, the gauze was wrapped slowly around her head, and neck, leaving only her eyes exposed. When the task was completed, the woman lie face up - a mimic of an Egyptian mummy in the flesh. This kind of bondage was particularly frightening to the woman, and Mistress knew this. She suffered from a mild case of claustrophobia that became acute whenever she was placed in particularly confining spaces. This was the first step of Mistress's plan for her in Asylum 6. The nurses, satisfied that they had done an exceptional job, turned and left their helpless victim bound and motionless, but fully aware, in her room.
Corinne entered the room of the mummified woman as nonchalantly as ever. She took a few pictures, and sat down next to the bound woman's form. She examined the handiwork of the nurses bondage wrap, and felt shivers run up and down her spine at the thought of her actually being confined in such a fashion. Corinne leaned over the woman's face, and in an instant, the woman's eyes met Corinne's.
Her body trembled when she saw Corinne and she began mumbling hysterically. Corinne could not believe what was happening. How was this woman able to see her? The drug was wearing off, and the woman was beginning to regain full control of her limbs. Corinne felt her blood run cold. She didn't know how to respond. The woman's eyes were pleading, reaching out to Corinne, and her body was writhing more vigorously. After several attempts to move, the woman began screaming a piercing scream through the muffling bandages. She twisted fractionally before sucking in another lung full of air and screamed again. On and on she screamed at her frustration from the confining bondage. She was suffering greatly just at her confinement. Corinne tried to calm the woman down, patting her head and holding her index finger to her mouth to symbolize quiet.
"Shhhh. Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." Corinne said in as passive a voice as she knew how.
The woman slowly calmed, still mumbling. Corinne tried to understand her, but it was too difficult, so taking a chance, Corinne stretched open the gauze around her mouth so the woman could speak. The woman's voice was panic stricken and panting."Get out of here. Get out of here before its too late. You dont' understand. They'll get you too!"
Corinne tried to steady her."I don't know how you can see me, but no one else here can. I've been wandering around this place for over a week, and no one can see me...until now."
Corinne ended her statement with a puzzled look on her face.The woman was shaking her head "no" frantically.
"You don't get it. The longer you stay here, the thinner the veil gets, until they too will be able to see you. These people aren't ghosts. This place is a revolving time door into another dimension that actually loops time. If they get you, you will be dragged backward to the year 1785 - a perpetual prisoner condemned to face hideous ticklings in a place where there is no hope of escape. You will become trapped. The only thing constant here is Mistress and her nurses. I should know. I was an administrator here in 1899."
Corinne suddenly felt a strange queasiness come over her."You are the famous last administrator that disappeared without a trace?"
"God help me." The woman's voice quivered. "Every time someone enters this place, the cycle starts again. All of these women were picked up at different points in time, and imprisoned here for Mistress's amusement. There are women here from the past present and future."
Corinne abruptly stopped the conversation and grabbed the gauze, stretching it again over the helpless woman's mouth."No. Wait. Please don't do this. Let me go. You don't know what they'll do to me if you leave me like this. I beg of you. Have mercy. Please!" She screamed in panic.
Her frantic cries for help were soon muffled as the last strip of gauze was replaced over the woman's mouth. Corinne hoped that whatever god was overseeing this spectacle would forgive her what she was doing right now."I'm sorry lady. I really want to help, but I can't run the risk of getting caught. I have to find a way out of here - now."
Just then, the nurses headed back to the room and entered. The mummified woman screeched with insane abandon, wriggling helplessly on the bed and wildly scanning the room for Corinne to help her. The nurses snickered.
"Feisty one tonight, huh?" One of the nurses commented. "Perhaps you should save some of that strength for Asylum Six. I hear its a real laughing matter."
The woman screamed again and again as the chuckling nurses picked her up and carried her out of the room.Corinne's problem was also immediate. At least the nurses couldn't see her just yet, but there wasn't much time. She had to find a way out, and fast. She ran frantically through the asylum, gathering her things, and stuffing them in her duffle bag. She dodged every nurse she came across, hiding just to ensure that she wouldn't be seen by anyone.
A group of nurses was coming down the hall where Corinne was hiding. She dare not chance running past them, and the only way to avoid them was to run down the stairs to the dungeon. She crossed her fingers that there would be no one downstairs in the corridor, and ran down the stairs to the bottom. There was only one room open, and that's where Corinne sought her refuge. She scooted into the room in a crouched position and hid under and behind a table. She noticed that in the middle of the room was what looked like a coffin. It was like a coffin in every way except for one. The foot of the coffin was actually a small set of stocks - the holes placed right next to each other. Corinne wondered what kind of horrible torture would befall the poor unfortunates who found themselves in there.
Moments later, Corinne heard the mummified woman's shrieking cries getting closer and closer. The shuffling of feet was louder, and the chattering of nurses soon spilled into the room where Corinne was hiding. It was the four nurses who had carried the woman out of the room upstairs. Of all the luck, corinne would have to find herself in the very same room that this woman was to be tortured.
The nurses placed the woman on the floor momentarily as one opened the lid to the coffin. She turned her head just enough to see Corinne hiding under the table. Once again, her cries became frantic and desperate. The nurses merely picked the poor woman up and placed her into the coffin. They pulled her ankles down so that they would rest on the lower half of the stocks at the foot of the box. The top half was then slid in place, holding her feet in place. The nurses then took the top of the coffin, and after making a tickling gesture in the air for the benefit of the woman's last sight, they placed the top on the coffin, securing the woman inside, in complete darkness and the most frightening immobility. One of the nurses bent over to speak to the encased woman through several holes that had been bore into either side of the box.
"Mistress will be here soon - very soon. Ha ha ha ha ha." She laughed out loud, and left the room.
Within moments, Corinne heard the familiar clacking of Mistress's shoes as she approached the room. The cell door opened again, and Corinne was forced to return to her hiding place beneath the table.
"Well well. What have we here." Snickered Mistress in her most sadistic droll. "It looks as though I have a little gift all wrapped up and presented to my enjoyment."
Her voice suddenly turned sinister."Did you think you would be able to hide from me forever, sweetheart. I told you before, there is no escape. I am really going to enjoy this. No, I mean I'm REALLY going to enjoy this."
The din from inside the box was becoming louder now, and Mistress crouched down at the trapped, helpless feet. She began by grabbing a piece of the gauze and slowly unwrapping her prizes.
"This is my very favorite part, you know. The anticipation; the knowledge of what I am going to do to you. By the way, Pamella, is it a little tight in there? Hmmmm? Dark too, I'll bet. Let's see if we can make you a little bit more "un" comfortable, huh?"
Mistress unwrapped the helpless feet loop by loop, exposing the tender, pink flesh of her wildly wrinkling soles and twitching toes. When Mistress was complete, there were two very sensitive, and very pink size 9s sticking out of the coffin-like box of Pamella's confinement.
Mistress straddled the box, facing Pamella's head, and whispered little taunts into the box just to augment her already distressful condition.
"Pammy? Feeling a little trapped in there? I'm going to tickle your feet Pammy. I'm going to tickle your feet while you're trapped and helpless Pammy. I'm going to tickle each and every toe. I'm going to make you wish you never tried to hide from me, Pammy. Do you hear me Pammy. I'm coming..."
Mistress ran her long nails over the wooden box, making a scratching noise that Corinne could only imagine would have made Pamella frantic with panic. If the movement of her feet and toes was any indication of her mental state, then Pamella was already on the verge of complete insanity.
Mistress flipped her body around to face the helpless bare feet of her latest victim. She laid her body over the top of the box, peering down at the wiggling toes, and placing both hands on Pammy's arches, she began to pet her foot bottoms as she would a kitten. Even this relatively nominal stimulation seemed to drive poor Pamella out of her mind. She began screaming and screaming repeatedly within the confines of her small, narrow wooden prison.
The petting didn't last long, and Mistress curled her fingers into talons, using the sharp points of her fingernails to rake the full length of both feet, starting at the heels and working up to the toe tips. She repeated the same single stroke over and over again. She never varied her pressure, or her pace. She just kept stroking upward, and would not pull her fingers away until she had completed the full length of both feet.
Pamella was beyond frantic. Her muffled cries were so intense that Corinne imagined she should have already passed out, but what she didn't know was that the drug ordered by Mistress made blood flow even greater to the head. It would be virtually impossible for Pamella to pass out even under the most vigorous of tickling administrations.
"MMMMMMEEEEEEEHHHHHH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH SFTOOOPPPPPPFFFF!! SSFFTTOOOPPPPPPFFFF!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
If one thing could be said about Mistress, it would be that she certainly knew how to mentally torture a victim as well as physically. Mistress began singing a well-known children's song of the time. She sang the song in the voice of a child, never detracting from her foot stroking, and never missing a beat.
Corinne was breathless. She was forced to stay there and bear witness to this incredible torture for as long as Mistress decided to administer it. When Mistress moved onto what she called the vibrating fingers technique, the box shook with the tortured quivers from the mummified Pamella within. The screams became long, drawn out hoarse cries. The laughter lacked the same high pitched sqeals and giggling quality, but was rather more like a steady yelling. Still, Mistress playfully tickled the twitching bare feet as the cries wore on into the night.
This was by far the most severe and traumatic tickle torture that Corinne had seen to date in this place. Each room in the dungeon had been progressively worse. If this was the torture for number six, corinne shuddered to think what could possibly be the treatment for Asylum Seven.
Pamella's frantic howling laughter was soon interupted by one of the nurses who came running into the torture cell.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Snapped Mistress, pulling her fingertips from the soft soles of her victim momentarily.
"Please excuse the interruption Mistress, but one of the other nurses claims to have seen an intruder here. I think she may be the girl we've been looking for."
Mistress sat pensively for a moment, her hand on her chin, giving Pamella a much-needed respite from the evil foot tickling torture."Very well, she jumped up off of the box. I will see to this myself."
She leaned over and quickly ran her fingernails up and down the trapped feet one last time."Don't go anywhere Pamella. We have much more in store for you tonight. Promise me you'll wait."
Mistress began tickling harder this time, and Pamella shook the box again with her renewed struggling."Come now, you can do better than that. Promise you won't leave?"
The tickling was vicious and without the normal playfulness that Msitress was so fond of administering. Pamella was shot into a whole other realm of agony as her feet were assailed by all ten sharp tickling talons. After about 1minute straight of asking for promises, Mistress finally accepted the grunting cries of tickled laughter from Pamella, and let up on her feet.The two women exited the room, leaving Corinne under the table. Corinne peaked out from a kneeling position to ensure that the women had begun ascending the starwell. She looked over at the box - Pamella's two crimson colored soles poked helplessly from the box. She could hear her panting and sobbing within. As if overcome by a sudden cruel streak, Corinne reached her hands out and tickled the exposed feet for several seconds, driving poor Pamella to screaming fits of tickled laughter. She stopped just as suddenly as she started.
Corinne made a dash for the large door that separated the stairwell from the corridor. Her heart was racing with wild anticipation to free herself from this place. As Corinne placed her hand on the large metal handle, a large hand slapped onto her shoulder, causing her to scream with intense fear. Corinne spasmed with terror, slapping the hand away, and falling to the floor, scooting herself into a corner. She looked up through blurred vision to see Mistress standing behind her - her arms folded across her massive chest. Mistress made for an ominous figure. The full realization of her height and size was thrust into Corinnes fear center of her brain in one massive push. Mistress looked down at the slight woman and smiled.
"So you've finally come back." Mistress said with an expectant tone in her voice. "I always knew you would."
"Wh-what the h-hell are you t-t-talking about. What do you mean, finally come back?" Corinne exclaimed in incredulous fear.
Mistress chuckled with a menacing tone."I've waited almost 180 years to find you again. That's how long it took us to swing back to this exact paralell in time. You escaped me once. Don't you remember? It was in 1813 on Halloween night. I don't know how you did it, but you did. We used to have so much intense fun together. I'm sure it will all come back to you in time. We have nothing but time, Corinne."
Corinne's mind spun around like a class 5 tornado. It almost hurt to think, and her internal organs felt as though they were forming a mutiny against her body. In one tremendous burst of panicked energy, Corinne leapt up and screamed like a lunatic as she ran up the stairs. A moment later, four nurses were dragging Corinne back down into the dungeon. They held her firmly in front of Mistress.
"That makes two times you've tried to get away from me, girl. I see we need to have a serious talk."
She motioned an away movement with her hand."Prepare her for our, eh...chat, won't you ladies?"
Corinne pleaded and screamed and struggled frantically to escape, but the nurses were just too strong. Mistress turned to walk away, but looked over her shoulder one last time."By the way, Corinne. I have your old room ready for you."
Mistress waved her hand toward the back of the corridor to the last remaining door, bearing a tag that read: Asylum Seven.
