ThePurpleQuill
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2018
- Messages
- 161
- Points
- 18
She darts her eyes about the room, taking mental note of every person who enters and exits the building. Her intentions are sound: constantly making sure nobody is lingering too long, or passing through too frequent, watching her every move to inform them of her intent to squeal. An abrupt noise from behind jars her from concentration, as her horror-stricken face meets that of solemn concern from the janitor, casually emptying a waste basket. With a heavy sigh, she slumps back into her chair, hoping to shed the weight of the world having been placed on her shoulders.
It was exactly 17 days ago she bore witness to that which cannot be unseen: an unspeakable act of undeserved cruelty inflicted upon a most unfortunate soul, all right in front of her innocent eyes, and ever since she has been dying to reveal exactly what she saw. Yet every time, just as the words were about to fall from her supple lips, she clamped them shut, swallowing her truth for yet another day. However, it has come to her attention that, the longer she waits, the greater risk she invites for herself. Everywhere she turned, it seemed, they were waiting for her: in the library, in the lady’s room, even the park…everywhere, she found herself constantly in their crosshairs despite having done nothing wrong. Give it one more week, and surely, she would be driven insane from such an impending fate.
So she sits, waiting to tell her truth to whoever will listen, and taking the ultimate risk in doing so.
She is nervous, obviously so despite her best efforts to appear otherwise: her platinum white sneakers stamp silently atop the cool marble floor, an erratic rhythm as she can just barely hold herself together as it is. Clutching her black leather purse in her lap, she digs her peach-painted nails deep into its plush material, the only thing that is alleviating the growing tension inside of her. As she bites the side of her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood from such pressure, it is at this point that Jordyn Jones finds herself at a crossroad: seated within the Department of Student Affairs office, sulking atop her stained mahogany chair, the fate of her future here at this school rests in what she is about to do.
Suddenly, the double doors creak open, as Jordyn spins around to lock eyes with a bespectacled middle-aged woman, her polka-dot sundress clinging tightly to her body. Pressing her middle finger into her glasses, pushing them further atop her crooked nose, she greets the distraught young lady with a warming tone of voice.
“Miss Jones, please come in,” she says, her gentle voice guiding Jordyn up from her chair, as the entire world seems to merely be floating underneath her feet. The doors shut behind her, shuffling her way across the lime green carpeting as she trades the hardened wood for a plush recliner. Sinking into its material as though it were locking her in place, she glances down at the floor, avoiding any chance of any eye contact that could be made. In response the woman seats herself in front of the massive desk, lacing her fingers atop her lap in attentive fashion. “Now I understand you have some information regarding the incident that occurred two weeks ago…am I right?” She bows her head, looking up from the top of her large-rimmed glasses.
“Yes,” Jordyn meekly answers, drooping her head as to hide the tears welling up, those not of merely fear but of shame for not having the courage to speak up until this very last moment.
“You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” the woman reassures her, resting a palm atop her delicate shoulder. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Now, I need you to just take a deep breath, and tell me what happened.” Jordyn arches backwards, taking in a lung-filled gust of air, releasing it slowly through her lips. Raising her eyes to meet those of the counselor’s, she finally speaks her truth.
“I know what really happened to Miley…”
A dazzling sun basks the sprawling campus of Pinebrook University in its glorious radiance, as swarms of fresh young faces descend upon its freshly polished walkways for a year of delight and discovery. One such student just happened to be Jordyn, clutching the day’s schedule to her chest, a look of awe scrawled across her face. Having been accepted into the school’s prestigious Theatre Arts program, the YouTube starlet found herself to be on cloud nine, given the chance to reinvent herself far from home at this prestigious establishment. Like all parents, her mother gave her the stern warnings of caution, noting the disappearance of a young graduate student from the local research institute as reason to always be looking over her shoulder. Yet Jordyn brushed it off, ultimately feeling the world to be her oyster.
Ascending the stone walkway of the Performing Arts center, she circles the hallway for the main theater, the throes of congregating students and their confused looks showing her the way. Weaving through the swaths of backpacks and swinging purses, she plops down next to another student, trading warm greetings as the speaker calls their attention to the front. Little did she know that she would be seated next to her new roommate, a starry-eyed young woman by the name of Miley Perlmutter. A lush stream of fine chestnut hair rests precariously atop her petite shoulders, adorning a bright melon blouse that ends in a set of shallow blue jeans, a pair of flip flops peeking out of the end revealing her sky-blue nail polish. Her large chocolate brown eyes and perfectly round face giving off the adorable expression of that of a chipmunk, the image only augmented with her front teeth resting atop her lower lip when enthused as she normally is. Having found themselves roommates a few hours later, they instantly became inseparable.
They strode about campus, Miley taking Jordyn by the hand as they trekked their way across the brick walkways, through the vegetable garden, into the main library and back again. They talked about how they decided to attend Pinebrook: for Miley, its rustic charm bewitched the Wichita native, serving as almost a home away from home for her. As the day slowly waned, the romanticism of the campus highlighted by its gas lamps lining the walkways, they gradually made their way back to their dorm room, taking all the time they needed to do so.
Yet there was one moment, one fleeting instance that sent a shiver down Jordyn spine, and she hadn’t the slightest clue why: passing through the middle of campus, tracing their way around the large water fountain, they were met with the inquisitive stares of five young women. Standing atop a ledge in the distance, their appearances dissimilar but strangely uniform, the sensation Jordyn received from them, even in the fleeting moments they made eye contact with one another, was that of a prized show dog being examined by judges. She was soon tugged away by Miley, and the thought of their gaze went with her. However, as she was soon to discover, the reputations of these ladies would eventually consume every facet of her life.
The Longmire Sisters: Darby, Tracy, Amber, Remi, and Penny Longmire, all related, and all with birthdays within weeks of one another. Rumor has it that their father, oil magnate and local heavyweight Nathaniel Longmire III, having been a traveling salesman before striking it rich in the shallow ore deposits of northern Canada, had sired all five of them during a three-day sales conference in Tucson, learning for himself the shortcomings of the “reusable” condoms he had pushed across the Bible Belt. By the time it was all said and done, he was the most eligible bachelor with five unplanned pregnancies to deal with. Not wishing his reputation to be sullied by such “unavoidable” circumstances, he settled ungodly sums with all the women, “adopting” his children and raising them as he saw fit.
Having been spoiled rotten, with each given a Mercedes by 13 and their own beach house by 19, the Longmire sisters had become accustomed to getting exactly what they wanted, and a higher education from one of the most prestigious institutions certainly wasn’t out of the question. Their grades would have brought tears to any counselor’s eyes, and their extracurriculars better qualified them for Sunday school rather than a top-tier university, but just a whiff of daddy’s purse was enough to secure each of them a spot in the roster. It seemed Jordyn could barely turn her head without being inundated with another dormitory named after the affluent family in some form. Faculty and staff tempered their tones around them, school administration praised them in their speeches, and for most of the student body, they revered the Five Points, as they were colloquially referred to, as some force to be reckoned with.
Now here’s where fact turns to fantasy: the term itself apparently had nothing to do with their personalities, but rather their nails, freshly manicured every morning to the point they resembled talons rather than merely cosmetic adornments. For what reason, Jordyn asked? Well, according to the resident conspiracy theorist in their dormitory, they were for one purpose and one purpose only: tickling. Jordyn’s face went white at the very utterance of that word, listening carefully to the entire story unfold: that every so often, they would choose a victim, one which slighted them in any way. Dragging them out to a clearing in the park, far far away from anybody to hear their cries, they would inflict upon the poor soul a horrendous tickling beyond all hope and reason. Apparently, their last catch, a junior by the name of Tracy Choi, had made the grave mistake of inadvertently covering up her answers on her chemistry midterm, forcing one of the sisters to find “alternative” ways to pass the course. Rumor has it, by the time they were done with her, she had been forced to move back to Hong Kong and take up work in an airport deli. Such was a riot for Miley to listen to, cackling wildly its entire duration before falling asleep, but for Jordyn, the very notion of such an occurrence sank deep into her psyche.
She could barely sleep a wink that night having heard such a tall tale: tickling, of all things. Surely there was some truth to her words, else it be something more absurd such as human sacrifice or genetic cloning. The very thought of her greatest weakness being exploited as such made her entire body tingle in anticipation. Her memories haunted her: those of being cornered on the playground by her childhood admirers, stripped of her shoes and socks only to be tickled relentlessly until the bell rang. Even in her teenage years, it seemed as though every person she met possessed a sixth sense to detect her obscene levels of ticklishness and dread, only ending when she took up kickboxing in her senior year of high school.
But, as time went on, and her thoughts moved to bigger and better things, the Longmire sisters ceased to haunt her in her solemn hours…until now.
Her oversized shoes clasp against the dirt path, a lone strip that leads from the main campus through a thicket of trees, weaving its way until it gets to a clearing in the park a few hundred meters down. Eleanor Park, as it is called, the only thing not named after the Longmire family: a common destination for all things necessitating seclusion. Just how many eggplant bongs have been found out there, how many college dreams have been wiped away by the dirty deed there is unknown, but on this particularly cool afternoon, the sight is surely something to see.
The leaves by now have turned shades darker in their state, adorning her walk with the romantic colors of autumn. She had set out that day, continuing her daily ritual with Miley as they had done the moment they met. However, she just happened to be solo: so strange that she found their dorm room completely vacant upon her arrival back from class, merely a handwritten note saying Miley would be back soon and nothing more. At about a hundred yards in, it seems a sound tunnel is formed, completely isolating this small patch of woodland from its surroundings. Not one decibel of the outside world is discernable, serving as a pleasant escape for Jordyn and Miley day in and day out. However, as Jordyn rounds the large hickory at the fork in the path, she is rocked to her very core by an unfortunate sound.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” a hapless wail echoes through the trees, catching Jordyn’s attention. Coming from the clearing, she quickly picks up pace, hoping not to be too late to what could be a student in distress. As she cleared the thick brushes, hopping out into the clear space, a mass of movement in its center guides her eyes. It is here that she makes that most unfortunate of discoveries: it is indeed Miley her roommate, surrounded by the Five Points, and by the look of it, her nightmares have sprung to life.
She finds Miley lying flat on her back, clothed in everything but her shoes and socks, with the five sisters atop her person. They have taken position, each at strategic points to render any chance of her escape hopeless: grasping her by the wrists above her head, Tracy is pinning Miley’s clenched fists down to the ground, giving no leverage for her to resist. She can see Darby and Amber, having seated themselves atop each of Miley’s knees, keeping them completely immobile underneath as they rake their nails across her bare soles out of view. Kneeling just above her hips, Penny is pulsating her fingers across the poor girl’s midsection, darting into her exposed underarms from time to time. All the while, Remi is standing above them, observing her plight as she holds Miley’s shoes and socks in her hands.
“You thought you could just up and steal my boyfriend, you little skank?!” Tracy yells at Miley, pushing her arms back down to the floor the minute she can raise them even an inch for herself. “You’re going to get it now!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOO!!” Miley wails in desperate response, muscles bulging to reveal just how much effort she is exerting to protect her vulnerable underarms being ravaged by Penny’s violet-tinted nails. “IIIIIHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE DIDN’T DO THAT!!”
“What, are you saying you’re too good for him now?!” Tracy responds, a devious grin on her face much out of Miley’s view, her tear-filled eyes clamped shut, unable to confront the horrid sight of her predicament.
“The little slut, who does she think she is?!” Darby comments, prying Miley’s left big toe back, stretching her foot taut and completely accessible to her crimson-tinted nails. Glancing over at her sister, Amber reciprocates the process, doing the same but with all five of her toes as she digs deep into her quivering sole with her midnight-tinted nails.
“I’M SOOOOOOOOOORYYYYYYYHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEE!!” she bellows, relinquishing whatever shame and self-respect she has maintained up to this point by giving in to their absurd assertions. Jordyn is dumbfounded, having stumbled upon a punishment nobody in her right mind would deserve, let alone her kind-hearted roommate.
“Maybe we should gag her with these disgusting socks,” Remi suggests, giving a look of disgust as she twitches her nose away from Miley’s shoes. “That’ll show her.”
“I want to hear her beg!” Penny cackles, descending to her untouched hips, digging her thumbs to extract 20 more decibels of screeching howls out of their hapless captive. “Go on: beg to be our little tickle slut!”
“PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEEASE!!” Miley cries, a crack on the tail end turning her voice slowly turning hoarse in utter strain. Her face a deep shade of beet red, the force of her desperation is obvious in Jordyn’s position nearly a hundred yards away. However, to the five malicious young ladies ravaging her with their dastardly claws, her suffering is all they are truly after.
“Not convincing enough bitch!” Amber shouts over her shoulder, using both her hands to skitter her nails into the tender flesh just underneath Miley’s toes.
“I CAN’T BREEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEATH!!” Miley cries, thrashing her head from side to side, hoping to find just one iota of mercy in any of them, only to fall pitifully short of her goal.
“You seem to be breathing just fine little girl!” Remi responds, wandering over to join Penny at her midsection. “You can take way more than this!” Digging her nails into the poor girl’s ribs, weaving them through each crevice of their form, she sends Miley into a tailspin of epic proportions: with all five of them attacking her at once, she begins babbling incoherently, unable to form a single sentence, as if it would have even mattered.
Jordyn’s mouth hangs open, all the moisture syphoned out of her throat she can barely swallow. She tries with all her strength to run away, hoping to get help but at least to relinquish her eyes from such a gruesome sight, only to come up pitifully short: her trembling knees have locked in place, not one inch of movement to speak of.
The things they made Miley scream to the mountain tops would forever be burned into Jordyn’s memory: how she loved to be tickled, how she deserved everything that was happening to her, and how nothing would be better in this world than to be their tickle slave for the rest of her tortured little life. Even as her voice fell by the wayside, her breathy laughter and silent shrieks betraying her continuous suffering, she would still try with all her might to respond, mouthing their demands to their disappointment as they drove her further into the depths of her hellish suffering.
They played with her, toying with the poor creature, an innocent little mouse cornered by five monstrous cats wielding ultimate power over her body. Time after time, they’d let their grip “slip,” momentarily letting her attempt a futile escape as she crawled desperately away from their grasp. Even as her limbs felt like jell-o, Miley still found it within her to fight for escape, but if only it wasn’t meant to be wasted, for all it took was one of them grasping her by the ankle, lassoing her back into their devilish clutches for it to all begin again. Having to watch Miley claw desperately at the ground, tossing up leaves in her wake, was far too much for Jordyn’s heart to bear, sinking unto the floor without the courage to confront them and save her roommate from her hellish ordeal as they pinned her back unto the ground, ravaging her tender flesh with wild abandonment once again.
Jordyn wanted nothing more than to scream: to call out to them, announcing her presence, telling them she had called campus police and they were on their way over, anything to give Miley even a second of rest. Yet nothing came of it: as she rested her finger atop her lower lip, she was completely mute, not even one squeak as she sat idly by as her roommate was reduced to a pitiful heap beyond recognition.
Finally, they let her be, cackling devilish giggles as they waltzed out of the clearing, taking her shoes with them. Leaving Miley curled up in a fetal position on the forest floor, hugging herself in desperate search for comfort, it would only be a good Samaritan passing by with his dog that would tend to the poor creature, as Jordyn was left completely incapable of doing so herself.
After the holiday weekend, Jordyn would return to her dorm room to find it half empty, the contents of Miley’s side collected just outside the door. From word of the RA, and that which subsequently spread through the school, Miley had unfortunately experienced a nervous breakdown, a common occurrence for those leaving home for the first time. But Jordyn knew the truth: they did this to her, and if they had gone this far now, then surely the rumors had been true. Yet despite being the terrors of the campus community, no one had dared confront them for fear of reprisal, and without anybody to speak against them, they had free reign to do whatever they like. But that was all going to change, Jordyn swore to herself, as she went into the counselor’s office that day and told her everything she had seen.
Her testimony would sweep up a flurry of events that consumed not just the university, but the adjacent small town: hearings were held, admissions of lax oversight and hush money transferred from the patriarch illegally funneled as donations revealed, all leading to the eventual expulsion of the Longmire sisters from the college for good. All mentions of their name were wiped from the record, the dormitories and study halls replaced with the names of social leaders and generic freedom fighters. Even with all the upset over her admissions, Jordyn hadn’t even had to testify in public, her statement completely secret and kept under wraps unless compelled by court order.
She was finally free…or so she thought.
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A cool breeze rustles what’s left of the foliage high atop the trees, scattering leaves across the campus with the last breath of autumn. The hues of deep red and orange she had been blessed with weeks earlier have given way to yellow and brown, as the world around her goes into hibernation for the winter. Weeks had gone by since the expulsion of the Five Points, and already it seemed as though they had never existed on this campus: young women, ones who walked in groups or with mace up their sleaves, felt empowered to once again walk alone, and Jordyn had joined these throes of newly-freed girls. It was still discomforting not having Miley with her, the one person who showed her the beauty of life with every step, but that was behind her now.
As she strode down the parkway, an eerie sense of isolation slowly crept in on her: the late afternoon chill would keep most indoors that day, but given there to be a parade being held downtown, the entire campus had been nearly abandoned for the yule-tide merriment. All but Jordyn, kept after class by her linguistics instructor, demanding she tidy the theater library as dictated by her scholarship. She protested whole-heartedly but, without an inch of room in her instructor’s voice, did exactly what she was told. Now she walks back to her dorm, alone, without a soul to be found.
She kicks up the fallen leaves with her feet, tossing them over the concrete walkway in frustration as a howling gust makes its way from behind her. However, as the wind ceases, and the branches above come to a steady halt, Jordyn suddenly hears a subtle rustling around her: surrounding her on all sides, louder and louder it grows, almost as if it were coming right towards her. Suddenly, a voice echoes from the trees, shaking her to her very core.
“You thought we wouldn’t find out, huh?”
She jerks her head, glancing into the thicket, unable to find its source, but knowing full well that she truly is not alone here.
“You didn’t think you could escape, now could you?”
Another voice, with the same coldly tender tone but of different timbre, pierces through the trees. She darts her head behind her, hoping to catch its source to no avail.
“We’re going to get you!”
Beads of sweat begin trickling down her brow, her breathing growing in frequency and intensity as her heart begins pounding out of her chest.
“Tickle tickle Jordyn!”
That word, that one word, making her ears ring by even its utterance. She knows exactly what she is in for: had she just done what she knew was right and left school for good, then she would not be in this mess as it is. However, it is far too late now, and by the sounds of their voices, it wouldn’t have made any difference.
“Run Jordy! Run fast!”
As she turns her head, her face white with terror, she catches the horrid sight of the Five Points, running towards her with outstretched nails, ready to pounce.
She bolts, sprinting down the narrowing path into Eleanor Park. Hoping to escape them within the twists and turns of the woods, she leaps through the thicket, approaching the clearing where she will get better traction. Little did she realize this was their second home, not only the spot where they drag their victims to their fate, but the same place where she was to witness Miley fall victim to their wicked ways. Not realizing their home field advantage, Jordyn unwittingly falls into their trap: making her way into the open space, she inadvertently catches her foot on a small log, not enough to trip her but enough to stifle her momentum just enough to close the gap. She wouldn’t know it then, but they had preemptively placed it there for her, all part of the process of leading her to this clearing from the start.
They close in, the split-second stumble just enough for Jordyn to be left vulnerable. Right in reach, Amber makes the first move: lunging towards Jordyn’s feet, she is just able to lay a hand on Jordyn’s left ankle, her inescapable grasp prompting her prey to tumble forward into a shallow pile of leaves, cushioning her impact. Flailing to get free, it is Penny that leaps atop her back, knocking Jordyn to the floor as the wind is taken right out of her. Sliding in front of her, Tracy grasps her by the left wrist, pinning it to the ground with both hands as Jordyn attempts to push herself up with her right. That is when Remi jumps in, taking hold of her right wrist, pulling it out in front of her. In one fell swoop, they flip her on her back, forcing her to come face-to-face with Penny, standing over her outstretched form, inspecting their prize.
“We’ve got you now bitch,” she says softly, staring Jordyn directly into her watering eyes, her devilish grin piercing right down to the poor girl’s soul.
“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” Jordyn shrieks at the top of her lungs, hoping to catch someone walking down the adjacent path for help, knowing full well how ultimately fleeting such a chance would be.
“So glad Miss Butler is able to do exactly what she is told,” Tracy nonchalantly states, the mention of Jordyn’s teacher making her that much more uneasy. “That’s what happens when you hire adjuncts with student loans to pay: so vulnerable to influence. Wouldn’t you agree, Jordy?” She can feel her bottom lip trembling, screaming on the inside but just barely able to squeak out a response to such a casual admission of their plot.
“You actually thought you could escape from us, huh you little snake?” Penny goads her, grasping Jordyn just underneath the chin, forcing her to look her square in the eye. “You didn’t think we wouldn’t have full access to the digital database here? Just who do you think bought this school all new computers? The state?!” They laugh, their banshee-like cackles echoing through the trees, surrounding Jordyn on all sides with their devilish glee.
“Now you’re going to experience firsthand just what your little roommate went through,” she says, noting the look of terror in Jordyn’s face, having never even considered the fact they were completely aware of her that fateful afternoon. “Oh yes: we knew you were there, watching us the entire time. We only hoped you fully enjoyed the show, as it was foolish of us to think you would have kept your trap shut, witnessing what we are capable of when we need to be.”
“WHY?!” Jordyn screeches, tears falling from her eyes as she attempts to comprehend their depraved motivations. “Why would you do that to her?” She watches as they glance above her, noting Remi’s look of complete satisfaction on her face.
“Sky blue is my color,” Remi notes, revealing her dastardly sharpened nails, adorned with the same sheen of nail polish that Miley had chosen for her toes that first day they laid eyes on them. Just how inhuman you could be inflicting such grueling punishments on someone for unwittingly choosing your nail polish was unreal, but having known these women and the depths of their depravity, it certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“Now, if you think we’re cruel to her for wearing the wrong nail polish, just imagine what we’re going to do to the girl who got us all expelled!” Darby calls out, Jordyn craning her neck to try and see, only for Penny to physically push her head back down to the ground. She gazes deep into her crystalline eyes, indulging in the ripe terror that drenches them at this horrific moment.
“If only you had just kept it to yourself,” she coos at her, slowly dragging the tips of her nails down the quivering length of Jordyn’s arm. “Maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess.” She reaches up underneath her white leather jacket, Jordyn can already feel her sharpened nails scraping over her flesh underneath. She turns away, hoping not to catch one glance at the horrific sight that befalls her.
“Phhhhhhhfhfhfhfhfhfhfhf!” Jordyn stifles, pursing her lips with all her might, not wanting to give the quintet the satisfaction of her suffering.
“Go ahead Jordy,” Penny dictates, slowly picking up speed as her nails begin skittering over her delicate armpits. “Laugh.” That word echoes through them all, repeating it over and over as Jordyn’s lips begin slowly peeling open, revealing a toothy grin of forced mirth. The strained giggles slowly seeping out from her gullet, Jordyn begins to realize any efforts to suppress her reactions are completely useless.
“I said laugh bitch!” Penny commands, digging her nails deep into the flesh of her armpits. Throwing her head back, Jordyn lets out a piercing scream, followed closely by a torrent of full-throated laughter.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” she cackles, much to the delight of her captors, watching her struggle mightily against their grasp to no avail. “NO WAIT!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET!!”
“Not gonna happen you little tattletale!” Penny responds, using her thumbs to dig deep into Jordyn’s sides. Such torments would have been bed enough, her wild shrieks ascending yet another octave, but little could she imagine her merely to be leaving her sisters room to do their work.
“STAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Jordyn screams, feeling the sharpened nails of Tracy and Remi make their slow descent into her vulnerable underarms. Seated atop her forearms, pinning them to the ground below, they have rendered her completely helpless to defend herself, only to claw at the ground behind them in desperate form. Tears freefalling down her cheeks, soaking the ground below, the thought of three women taking her body to town, throwing her into a maelstrom of tortured laughter, shook the ground under her feet.
That was until she realized there were two more of them.
Even through the horrid overstimulation she was being subjected to, her underarms and sides getting an unhealthy dose of ticklish torments as it is, she could still feel the subtle sensation of her shoelaces being tugged on, slowly unraveling much to her chagrin. She knows exactly what they are doing, and she will have nothing of it: with a force like no other she presses her toes against the rubber sole of her shoe, securing her footwear from their possession. Pursing her lips, furrowing her brow, it is all but completely apparent just how hard she is trying to keep them on, and how futile such an effort truly is.
“Are you being stubborn Jordy?” Penny coos at her captive, noting the glare of defiance in her captive she shoots back. “We can’t have that, now can we?” Without warning, taking the two knuckles of her middle fingers, she digs then straight into Jordyn’s ribcage, twisting and churning into the sensitive flesh with sadistic glee.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” she screams at the top of her lungs, throwing her head back in utter desperation. With Penny kneading up and down her ribs, and the other two sisters pressing into the supple muscle just underneath her bicep, Jordyn can only stand idly by as her shoes are slipped off her socked feet and thrown at her sides.
“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAT THE FEEEEEEEEEEEET!” she screams at the top of her lungs, the utter distress she is under clouding her better judgement. “PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEASEEEEEEEEEEE!!”
“Oh, we wouldn’t think about skipping that over, huh girls?” Penny asks them, prompting moans of confirmation as they ratchet up the intensity even further. Nodding silently to one another, both Amber and Darby grasp the thin material by the toe and, in one fell swoop, they strip her of her socks, tossing them over their shoulders as they begin scraping into her freshly pedicured soles. As she watches her last vestige of protection fall to the ground beside her, a small piece of Jordyn’s soul goes with it.
“STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAP!!” Jordyn squeals, her horrid voice echoing off these solemn trees, indifferent to her plight. That normally soothing girlish voice now transformed into a hellish screeching the likes of which she has never experienced, it just one more element to their torments the Five Points revel in again and again.
Caressing the sides of her feet, they extract the most primal of reactions from the cornered creature. As Darby traces her fingers over her ankles, Amber slowly makes her way to the top of her right foot, her elongated nails making sure no square inch of her flesh goes unscathed. Their faces betray the sadistic pleasure they derive from Jordyn’s desperately flailing feet, resting their tongues between their teeth as they find yet another spot to drive the poor girl livid.
“MEEEEEERCYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!” Jordyn can barely eek out, bucking against their grasp as she is locked in place without even a single restraint.
“You don’t get any mercy bitch!” Tracy responds, making her way into the top of Jordyn’s ribs, lacing her fingers through their tender slits. Never in her wildest dreams she would have thought she would bear witness to such a horrific tickle torture again, let alone experience one firsthand. It is as though someone had photographed Miley’s plight and pasted Jordyn in her place, for every detail it seemed to be a direct repeat of her experience: their positions, the way they verbally tease her, the cadence of their attacks, every detail was a direct repeat of that one day, as though they had rehearsed it time and time again.
What Jordyn could have never conceived was just how primed these five ladies were for this task. She couldn’t possibly have imagined just how many they had practiced on before, how many excruciating sessions they had with those unsuspecting victims that dared slight them in the most minuscule of ways. Within Jordyn lives the memories of countless victims they have dealt with over the years, even the smallest item inciting flashbacks of their victims from years prior.
The way Jordyn claws at the ground beneath her in desperate attempt at escape is reminiscent of Crissy Michaels, a popular young professor of English Literature that had the misfortune of correcting Amber’s use of “Saharan dessert” on a short essay assignment. Last time they heard, she had been forced to move back in with her parents, having been treated to an uninterrupted “detention” of relentless tickling bound across her office floor one unfortunately quiet Saturday morning.
The way her howling shrieks quickly morph into torrents of forced laughter reminds them of Sabrina Mitsuko, a sophomore on a gymnastics scholarship at Pinebrook three years ago that made the mistake of referring to Tracy’s hair as merely “nice.” What transpired was a long Sunday afternoon bound in the splits to the balance beam, brought to tears through their devilish nails across her tender soles and underarms, followed by a quick flight back to Tokyo the next morning.
Finally, the way she pleads for mercy through her hapless tears, screeching cries, and whispered shrieks is akin to that of Melanie, a young Honduran immigrant serving as a maid in Penny’s beach house. A broken vase resulted in three full days of tickle torture, bound to her own bed, stripped nude and teased mercilessly across her quivering flesh as she pled with her captors in broken English, only to meet the bad end of an immigration court by the end of it all.
However, despite all these associations, they had to admit to themselves one thing: Jordyn was special. Nobody before her had had the gall to personally report them to school authorities, risking everything just to avenge their best friend’s torments. She was worthy of something more, and for that, she had to be treated to something special.
“You know what we do to really bad girls Jordy?” Amber asks, watching the mascara-stained tears drop from her eyes sliding down her cheeks. “We bring out the big guns.” Through her blurring eyes, head hoisted up personally by Tracy and Remi, Jordyn is struck with a sight that will forever be stained into her mind: two mascara brushes, nestled in each of Amber’s hands, with two hairbrushes in those of Darby. In one fell swoop, they descend upon her quivering flesh, ravaging her soles with wild abandonment.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” She lets out al almighty wail, feeling the entirely new sensation befall her reddening bare feet, unable to stop them as they all descend upon her person at once. They alternate tools, from the hardened bristles of the hairbrush to the invasively soft teeth of the mascara brush, a palette of ticklish torments too much to bear for the poor girl. She thought the brush was the worst of it until, much to her horror, a single mascara brush made it in between her toes, sending her shrieks over the moon. She curled them in response, hoping to have at least one thing to herself, but would find nothing was off limits to these ladies.
“Keep them open or you really get punished!” Darby commands her, sensing just how mentally weak they have made her over the course of several hours in their clutches for one by one, they watch as her toes separate from one another, leaving room for the dastardly mascara brushes to do their work. They have done it: cornering the poor creature, pinning her mentally without her knowing it. Such is merely the result of time, the extensive conditioning one must be put through to work against your own interests, bending to another’s will despite your desire to resist.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!” she wails, feeling their fine bristles caress the delicate flesh in between her toes. Her face contorted in the most inhuman of expressions, a cocktail of terror and indignation with pure unadulterated suffering, she is merely betraying just how vulnerable she has become to their influence, a note they will surely use against her.
“You’re going to come to each of our houses and clean them top to bottom!” Penny commands, digging her nails back into her tender hips.
“YEEEEEEEEEEES!! YEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHESSSSSSS!!” she shouts in response, just hoping it all to be over, no matter what the cost of it.
“Then you’re going to rub our feet, and kiss the ground they walk on!” Tracy adds in as well. “Do you understand?!”
“ANYTHING YOU WANT!!” she screams at the top of her lungs, completely at their mercy from here on out.
“You’re out little tickle slave now!” Remi iterates. “Say it!” She is desperate, mouthing such a horrid response without the breath to vocalize it, as her tormentors hadn’t given her even a moment of repose.
“SAY IT!!” they repeat over and over again, a cascade of demands coming from each of them, exerting their complete dominance over this delicate creature.
“I’M YOUR TICKLE SLAVE!!” she finally shouts, descending into a world of chaos as they ravage her soles with the hairbrushes anyways, exerting their ultimate control over her mind, body, and spirit as their new tickle slave.
It would be another 90 minutes before they ceased, three times the amount spent breaking Miley. They would confiscate her white sneakers and socks for themselves, Darby hoisting them over her shoulder in conquering fashion having broken the poor girl’s spirit in two. Teetering giggles escape her trembling lips, the reverberation of such prolonged torments still lingering even several moments after the fact. Tears freefall from her cheeks, but she neither weeps nor whimpers: her mind shattered into a million pieces, it is only her body that is reeling from it all, remembering everything they did to her over the past several uninterrupted hours she was subjected to.
They took her to their mansion, hoisting her over their shoulders for greater torments to follow. Night after endless night, they dressed her in the most demeaning of costumes, from French maid to naughty nurse, playing out their darkest fantasies with her as their new plaything. Little by little, she was stripped of everything that made her Jordyn, responding only to the commands of her mistresses whenever they called. Soon they would own her: credit card numbers, bank account passwords, financial documents, every sensitive piece of information she had to her name was gradually syphoned out of her person, anything just to make sure she would never be able to claim her past life, but it wouldn’t end there.
It was at a press conference the next week that she recanted her story, admitting to fabricating every detail of her account, solely due to jealousy of the sisters and their success at the school. Publicly she was shamed, with calls for her expulsion from the institution, only to be answered by calls for mercy from the sisters themselves. They swore that nothing was taken to heart, and that it was merely the result of a misguided girl’s calls for attention. To keep her at school, they promised that they would shape her into a model student at Pinebrook University, taking her under their wing for as long as it took to find her way, not letting anything stop them from molding her into a perfect reflection of themselves.
The End
It was exactly 17 days ago she bore witness to that which cannot be unseen: an unspeakable act of undeserved cruelty inflicted upon a most unfortunate soul, all right in front of her innocent eyes, and ever since she has been dying to reveal exactly what she saw. Yet every time, just as the words were about to fall from her supple lips, she clamped them shut, swallowing her truth for yet another day. However, it has come to her attention that, the longer she waits, the greater risk she invites for herself. Everywhere she turned, it seemed, they were waiting for her: in the library, in the lady’s room, even the park…everywhere, she found herself constantly in their crosshairs despite having done nothing wrong. Give it one more week, and surely, she would be driven insane from such an impending fate.
So she sits, waiting to tell her truth to whoever will listen, and taking the ultimate risk in doing so.
She is nervous, obviously so despite her best efforts to appear otherwise: her platinum white sneakers stamp silently atop the cool marble floor, an erratic rhythm as she can just barely hold herself together as it is. Clutching her black leather purse in her lap, she digs her peach-painted nails deep into its plush material, the only thing that is alleviating the growing tension inside of her. As she bites the side of her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood from such pressure, it is at this point that Jordyn Jones finds herself at a crossroad: seated within the Department of Student Affairs office, sulking atop her stained mahogany chair, the fate of her future here at this school rests in what she is about to do.
Suddenly, the double doors creak open, as Jordyn spins around to lock eyes with a bespectacled middle-aged woman, her polka-dot sundress clinging tightly to her body. Pressing her middle finger into her glasses, pushing them further atop her crooked nose, she greets the distraught young lady with a warming tone of voice.
“Miss Jones, please come in,” she says, her gentle voice guiding Jordyn up from her chair, as the entire world seems to merely be floating underneath her feet. The doors shut behind her, shuffling her way across the lime green carpeting as she trades the hardened wood for a plush recliner. Sinking into its material as though it were locking her in place, she glances down at the floor, avoiding any chance of any eye contact that could be made. In response the woman seats herself in front of the massive desk, lacing her fingers atop her lap in attentive fashion. “Now I understand you have some information regarding the incident that occurred two weeks ago…am I right?” She bows her head, looking up from the top of her large-rimmed glasses.
“Yes,” Jordyn meekly answers, drooping her head as to hide the tears welling up, those not of merely fear but of shame for not having the courage to speak up until this very last moment.
“You don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” the woman reassures her, resting a palm atop her delicate shoulder. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Now, I need you to just take a deep breath, and tell me what happened.” Jordyn arches backwards, taking in a lung-filled gust of air, releasing it slowly through her lips. Raising her eyes to meet those of the counselor’s, she finally speaks her truth.
“I know what really happened to Miley…”
A dazzling sun basks the sprawling campus of Pinebrook University in its glorious radiance, as swarms of fresh young faces descend upon its freshly polished walkways for a year of delight and discovery. One such student just happened to be Jordyn, clutching the day’s schedule to her chest, a look of awe scrawled across her face. Having been accepted into the school’s prestigious Theatre Arts program, the YouTube starlet found herself to be on cloud nine, given the chance to reinvent herself far from home at this prestigious establishment. Like all parents, her mother gave her the stern warnings of caution, noting the disappearance of a young graduate student from the local research institute as reason to always be looking over her shoulder. Yet Jordyn brushed it off, ultimately feeling the world to be her oyster.
Ascending the stone walkway of the Performing Arts center, she circles the hallway for the main theater, the throes of congregating students and their confused looks showing her the way. Weaving through the swaths of backpacks and swinging purses, she plops down next to another student, trading warm greetings as the speaker calls their attention to the front. Little did she know that she would be seated next to her new roommate, a starry-eyed young woman by the name of Miley Perlmutter. A lush stream of fine chestnut hair rests precariously atop her petite shoulders, adorning a bright melon blouse that ends in a set of shallow blue jeans, a pair of flip flops peeking out of the end revealing her sky-blue nail polish. Her large chocolate brown eyes and perfectly round face giving off the adorable expression of that of a chipmunk, the image only augmented with her front teeth resting atop her lower lip when enthused as she normally is. Having found themselves roommates a few hours later, they instantly became inseparable.
They strode about campus, Miley taking Jordyn by the hand as they trekked their way across the brick walkways, through the vegetable garden, into the main library and back again. They talked about how they decided to attend Pinebrook: for Miley, its rustic charm bewitched the Wichita native, serving as almost a home away from home for her. As the day slowly waned, the romanticism of the campus highlighted by its gas lamps lining the walkways, they gradually made their way back to their dorm room, taking all the time they needed to do so.
Yet there was one moment, one fleeting instance that sent a shiver down Jordyn spine, and she hadn’t the slightest clue why: passing through the middle of campus, tracing their way around the large water fountain, they were met with the inquisitive stares of five young women. Standing atop a ledge in the distance, their appearances dissimilar but strangely uniform, the sensation Jordyn received from them, even in the fleeting moments they made eye contact with one another, was that of a prized show dog being examined by judges. She was soon tugged away by Miley, and the thought of their gaze went with her. However, as she was soon to discover, the reputations of these ladies would eventually consume every facet of her life.
The Longmire Sisters: Darby, Tracy, Amber, Remi, and Penny Longmire, all related, and all with birthdays within weeks of one another. Rumor has it that their father, oil magnate and local heavyweight Nathaniel Longmire III, having been a traveling salesman before striking it rich in the shallow ore deposits of northern Canada, had sired all five of them during a three-day sales conference in Tucson, learning for himself the shortcomings of the “reusable” condoms he had pushed across the Bible Belt. By the time it was all said and done, he was the most eligible bachelor with five unplanned pregnancies to deal with. Not wishing his reputation to be sullied by such “unavoidable” circumstances, he settled ungodly sums with all the women, “adopting” his children and raising them as he saw fit.
Having been spoiled rotten, with each given a Mercedes by 13 and their own beach house by 19, the Longmire sisters had become accustomed to getting exactly what they wanted, and a higher education from one of the most prestigious institutions certainly wasn’t out of the question. Their grades would have brought tears to any counselor’s eyes, and their extracurriculars better qualified them for Sunday school rather than a top-tier university, but just a whiff of daddy’s purse was enough to secure each of them a spot in the roster. It seemed Jordyn could barely turn her head without being inundated with another dormitory named after the affluent family in some form. Faculty and staff tempered their tones around them, school administration praised them in their speeches, and for most of the student body, they revered the Five Points, as they were colloquially referred to, as some force to be reckoned with.
Now here’s where fact turns to fantasy: the term itself apparently had nothing to do with their personalities, but rather their nails, freshly manicured every morning to the point they resembled talons rather than merely cosmetic adornments. For what reason, Jordyn asked? Well, according to the resident conspiracy theorist in their dormitory, they were for one purpose and one purpose only: tickling. Jordyn’s face went white at the very utterance of that word, listening carefully to the entire story unfold: that every so often, they would choose a victim, one which slighted them in any way. Dragging them out to a clearing in the park, far far away from anybody to hear their cries, they would inflict upon the poor soul a horrendous tickling beyond all hope and reason. Apparently, their last catch, a junior by the name of Tracy Choi, had made the grave mistake of inadvertently covering up her answers on her chemistry midterm, forcing one of the sisters to find “alternative” ways to pass the course. Rumor has it, by the time they were done with her, she had been forced to move back to Hong Kong and take up work in an airport deli. Such was a riot for Miley to listen to, cackling wildly its entire duration before falling asleep, but for Jordyn, the very notion of such an occurrence sank deep into her psyche.
She could barely sleep a wink that night having heard such a tall tale: tickling, of all things. Surely there was some truth to her words, else it be something more absurd such as human sacrifice or genetic cloning. The very thought of her greatest weakness being exploited as such made her entire body tingle in anticipation. Her memories haunted her: those of being cornered on the playground by her childhood admirers, stripped of her shoes and socks only to be tickled relentlessly until the bell rang. Even in her teenage years, it seemed as though every person she met possessed a sixth sense to detect her obscene levels of ticklishness and dread, only ending when she took up kickboxing in her senior year of high school.
But, as time went on, and her thoughts moved to bigger and better things, the Longmire sisters ceased to haunt her in her solemn hours…until now.
Her oversized shoes clasp against the dirt path, a lone strip that leads from the main campus through a thicket of trees, weaving its way until it gets to a clearing in the park a few hundred meters down. Eleanor Park, as it is called, the only thing not named after the Longmire family: a common destination for all things necessitating seclusion. Just how many eggplant bongs have been found out there, how many college dreams have been wiped away by the dirty deed there is unknown, but on this particularly cool afternoon, the sight is surely something to see.
The leaves by now have turned shades darker in their state, adorning her walk with the romantic colors of autumn. She had set out that day, continuing her daily ritual with Miley as they had done the moment they met. However, she just happened to be solo: so strange that she found their dorm room completely vacant upon her arrival back from class, merely a handwritten note saying Miley would be back soon and nothing more. At about a hundred yards in, it seems a sound tunnel is formed, completely isolating this small patch of woodland from its surroundings. Not one decibel of the outside world is discernable, serving as a pleasant escape for Jordyn and Miley day in and day out. However, as Jordyn rounds the large hickory at the fork in the path, she is rocked to her very core by an unfortunate sound.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” a hapless wail echoes through the trees, catching Jordyn’s attention. Coming from the clearing, she quickly picks up pace, hoping not to be too late to what could be a student in distress. As she cleared the thick brushes, hopping out into the clear space, a mass of movement in its center guides her eyes. It is here that she makes that most unfortunate of discoveries: it is indeed Miley her roommate, surrounded by the Five Points, and by the look of it, her nightmares have sprung to life.
She finds Miley lying flat on her back, clothed in everything but her shoes and socks, with the five sisters atop her person. They have taken position, each at strategic points to render any chance of her escape hopeless: grasping her by the wrists above her head, Tracy is pinning Miley’s clenched fists down to the ground, giving no leverage for her to resist. She can see Darby and Amber, having seated themselves atop each of Miley’s knees, keeping them completely immobile underneath as they rake their nails across her bare soles out of view. Kneeling just above her hips, Penny is pulsating her fingers across the poor girl’s midsection, darting into her exposed underarms from time to time. All the while, Remi is standing above them, observing her plight as she holds Miley’s shoes and socks in her hands.
“You thought you could just up and steal my boyfriend, you little skank?!” Tracy yells at Miley, pushing her arms back down to the floor the minute she can raise them even an inch for herself. “You’re going to get it now!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOO!!” Miley wails in desperate response, muscles bulging to reveal just how much effort she is exerting to protect her vulnerable underarms being ravaged by Penny’s violet-tinted nails. “IIIIIHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE DIDN’T DO THAT!!”
“What, are you saying you’re too good for him now?!” Tracy responds, a devious grin on her face much out of Miley’s view, her tear-filled eyes clamped shut, unable to confront the horrid sight of her predicament.
“The little slut, who does she think she is?!” Darby comments, prying Miley’s left big toe back, stretching her foot taut and completely accessible to her crimson-tinted nails. Glancing over at her sister, Amber reciprocates the process, doing the same but with all five of her toes as she digs deep into her quivering sole with her midnight-tinted nails.
“I’M SOOOOOOOOOORYYYYYYYHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEE!!” she bellows, relinquishing whatever shame and self-respect she has maintained up to this point by giving in to their absurd assertions. Jordyn is dumbfounded, having stumbled upon a punishment nobody in her right mind would deserve, let alone her kind-hearted roommate.
“Maybe we should gag her with these disgusting socks,” Remi suggests, giving a look of disgust as she twitches her nose away from Miley’s shoes. “That’ll show her.”
“I want to hear her beg!” Penny cackles, descending to her untouched hips, digging her thumbs to extract 20 more decibels of screeching howls out of their hapless captive. “Go on: beg to be our little tickle slut!”
“PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEEASE!!” Miley cries, a crack on the tail end turning her voice slowly turning hoarse in utter strain. Her face a deep shade of beet red, the force of her desperation is obvious in Jordyn’s position nearly a hundred yards away. However, to the five malicious young ladies ravaging her with their dastardly claws, her suffering is all they are truly after.
“Not convincing enough bitch!” Amber shouts over her shoulder, using both her hands to skitter her nails into the tender flesh just underneath Miley’s toes.
“I CAN’T BREEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEATH!!” Miley cries, thrashing her head from side to side, hoping to find just one iota of mercy in any of them, only to fall pitifully short of her goal.
“You seem to be breathing just fine little girl!” Remi responds, wandering over to join Penny at her midsection. “You can take way more than this!” Digging her nails into the poor girl’s ribs, weaving them through each crevice of their form, she sends Miley into a tailspin of epic proportions: with all five of them attacking her at once, she begins babbling incoherently, unable to form a single sentence, as if it would have even mattered.
Jordyn’s mouth hangs open, all the moisture syphoned out of her throat she can barely swallow. She tries with all her strength to run away, hoping to get help but at least to relinquish her eyes from such a gruesome sight, only to come up pitifully short: her trembling knees have locked in place, not one inch of movement to speak of.
The things they made Miley scream to the mountain tops would forever be burned into Jordyn’s memory: how she loved to be tickled, how she deserved everything that was happening to her, and how nothing would be better in this world than to be their tickle slave for the rest of her tortured little life. Even as her voice fell by the wayside, her breathy laughter and silent shrieks betraying her continuous suffering, she would still try with all her might to respond, mouthing their demands to their disappointment as they drove her further into the depths of her hellish suffering.
They played with her, toying with the poor creature, an innocent little mouse cornered by five monstrous cats wielding ultimate power over her body. Time after time, they’d let their grip “slip,” momentarily letting her attempt a futile escape as she crawled desperately away from their grasp. Even as her limbs felt like jell-o, Miley still found it within her to fight for escape, but if only it wasn’t meant to be wasted, for all it took was one of them grasping her by the ankle, lassoing her back into their devilish clutches for it to all begin again. Having to watch Miley claw desperately at the ground, tossing up leaves in her wake, was far too much for Jordyn’s heart to bear, sinking unto the floor without the courage to confront them and save her roommate from her hellish ordeal as they pinned her back unto the ground, ravaging her tender flesh with wild abandonment once again.
Jordyn wanted nothing more than to scream: to call out to them, announcing her presence, telling them she had called campus police and they were on their way over, anything to give Miley even a second of rest. Yet nothing came of it: as she rested her finger atop her lower lip, she was completely mute, not even one squeak as she sat idly by as her roommate was reduced to a pitiful heap beyond recognition.
Finally, they let her be, cackling devilish giggles as they waltzed out of the clearing, taking her shoes with them. Leaving Miley curled up in a fetal position on the forest floor, hugging herself in desperate search for comfort, it would only be a good Samaritan passing by with his dog that would tend to the poor creature, as Jordyn was left completely incapable of doing so herself.
After the holiday weekend, Jordyn would return to her dorm room to find it half empty, the contents of Miley’s side collected just outside the door. From word of the RA, and that which subsequently spread through the school, Miley had unfortunately experienced a nervous breakdown, a common occurrence for those leaving home for the first time. But Jordyn knew the truth: they did this to her, and if they had gone this far now, then surely the rumors had been true. Yet despite being the terrors of the campus community, no one had dared confront them for fear of reprisal, and without anybody to speak against them, they had free reign to do whatever they like. But that was all going to change, Jordyn swore to herself, as she went into the counselor’s office that day and told her everything she had seen.
Her testimony would sweep up a flurry of events that consumed not just the university, but the adjacent small town: hearings were held, admissions of lax oversight and hush money transferred from the patriarch illegally funneled as donations revealed, all leading to the eventual expulsion of the Longmire sisters from the college for good. All mentions of their name were wiped from the record, the dormitories and study halls replaced with the names of social leaders and generic freedom fighters. Even with all the upset over her admissions, Jordyn hadn’t even had to testify in public, her statement completely secret and kept under wraps unless compelled by court order.
She was finally free…or so she thought.
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A cool breeze rustles what’s left of the foliage high atop the trees, scattering leaves across the campus with the last breath of autumn. The hues of deep red and orange she had been blessed with weeks earlier have given way to yellow and brown, as the world around her goes into hibernation for the winter. Weeks had gone by since the expulsion of the Five Points, and already it seemed as though they had never existed on this campus: young women, ones who walked in groups or with mace up their sleaves, felt empowered to once again walk alone, and Jordyn had joined these throes of newly-freed girls. It was still discomforting not having Miley with her, the one person who showed her the beauty of life with every step, but that was behind her now.
As she strode down the parkway, an eerie sense of isolation slowly crept in on her: the late afternoon chill would keep most indoors that day, but given there to be a parade being held downtown, the entire campus had been nearly abandoned for the yule-tide merriment. All but Jordyn, kept after class by her linguistics instructor, demanding she tidy the theater library as dictated by her scholarship. She protested whole-heartedly but, without an inch of room in her instructor’s voice, did exactly what she was told. Now she walks back to her dorm, alone, without a soul to be found.
She kicks up the fallen leaves with her feet, tossing them over the concrete walkway in frustration as a howling gust makes its way from behind her. However, as the wind ceases, and the branches above come to a steady halt, Jordyn suddenly hears a subtle rustling around her: surrounding her on all sides, louder and louder it grows, almost as if it were coming right towards her. Suddenly, a voice echoes from the trees, shaking her to her very core.
“You thought we wouldn’t find out, huh?”
She jerks her head, glancing into the thicket, unable to find its source, but knowing full well that she truly is not alone here.
“You didn’t think you could escape, now could you?”
Another voice, with the same coldly tender tone but of different timbre, pierces through the trees. She darts her head behind her, hoping to catch its source to no avail.
“We’re going to get you!”
Beads of sweat begin trickling down her brow, her breathing growing in frequency and intensity as her heart begins pounding out of her chest.
“Tickle tickle Jordyn!”
That word, that one word, making her ears ring by even its utterance. She knows exactly what she is in for: had she just done what she knew was right and left school for good, then she would not be in this mess as it is. However, it is far too late now, and by the sounds of their voices, it wouldn’t have made any difference.
“Run Jordy! Run fast!”
As she turns her head, her face white with terror, she catches the horrid sight of the Five Points, running towards her with outstretched nails, ready to pounce.
She bolts, sprinting down the narrowing path into Eleanor Park. Hoping to escape them within the twists and turns of the woods, she leaps through the thicket, approaching the clearing where she will get better traction. Little did she realize this was their second home, not only the spot where they drag their victims to their fate, but the same place where she was to witness Miley fall victim to their wicked ways. Not realizing their home field advantage, Jordyn unwittingly falls into their trap: making her way into the open space, she inadvertently catches her foot on a small log, not enough to trip her but enough to stifle her momentum just enough to close the gap. She wouldn’t know it then, but they had preemptively placed it there for her, all part of the process of leading her to this clearing from the start.
They close in, the split-second stumble just enough for Jordyn to be left vulnerable. Right in reach, Amber makes the first move: lunging towards Jordyn’s feet, she is just able to lay a hand on Jordyn’s left ankle, her inescapable grasp prompting her prey to tumble forward into a shallow pile of leaves, cushioning her impact. Flailing to get free, it is Penny that leaps atop her back, knocking Jordyn to the floor as the wind is taken right out of her. Sliding in front of her, Tracy grasps her by the left wrist, pinning it to the ground with both hands as Jordyn attempts to push herself up with her right. That is when Remi jumps in, taking hold of her right wrist, pulling it out in front of her. In one fell swoop, they flip her on her back, forcing her to come face-to-face with Penny, standing over her outstretched form, inspecting their prize.
“We’ve got you now bitch,” she says softly, staring Jordyn directly into her watering eyes, her devilish grin piercing right down to the poor girl’s soul.
“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” Jordyn shrieks at the top of her lungs, hoping to catch someone walking down the adjacent path for help, knowing full well how ultimately fleeting such a chance would be.
“So glad Miss Butler is able to do exactly what she is told,” Tracy nonchalantly states, the mention of Jordyn’s teacher making her that much more uneasy. “That’s what happens when you hire adjuncts with student loans to pay: so vulnerable to influence. Wouldn’t you agree, Jordy?” She can feel her bottom lip trembling, screaming on the inside but just barely able to squeak out a response to such a casual admission of their plot.
“You actually thought you could escape from us, huh you little snake?” Penny goads her, grasping Jordyn just underneath the chin, forcing her to look her square in the eye. “You didn’t think we wouldn’t have full access to the digital database here? Just who do you think bought this school all new computers? The state?!” They laugh, their banshee-like cackles echoing through the trees, surrounding Jordyn on all sides with their devilish glee.
“Now you’re going to experience firsthand just what your little roommate went through,” she says, noting the look of terror in Jordyn’s face, having never even considered the fact they were completely aware of her that fateful afternoon. “Oh yes: we knew you were there, watching us the entire time. We only hoped you fully enjoyed the show, as it was foolish of us to think you would have kept your trap shut, witnessing what we are capable of when we need to be.”
“WHY?!” Jordyn screeches, tears falling from her eyes as she attempts to comprehend their depraved motivations. “Why would you do that to her?” She watches as they glance above her, noting Remi’s look of complete satisfaction on her face.
“Sky blue is my color,” Remi notes, revealing her dastardly sharpened nails, adorned with the same sheen of nail polish that Miley had chosen for her toes that first day they laid eyes on them. Just how inhuman you could be inflicting such grueling punishments on someone for unwittingly choosing your nail polish was unreal, but having known these women and the depths of their depravity, it certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“Now, if you think we’re cruel to her for wearing the wrong nail polish, just imagine what we’re going to do to the girl who got us all expelled!” Darby calls out, Jordyn craning her neck to try and see, only for Penny to physically push her head back down to the ground. She gazes deep into her crystalline eyes, indulging in the ripe terror that drenches them at this horrific moment.
“If only you had just kept it to yourself,” she coos at her, slowly dragging the tips of her nails down the quivering length of Jordyn’s arm. “Maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess.” She reaches up underneath her white leather jacket, Jordyn can already feel her sharpened nails scraping over her flesh underneath. She turns away, hoping not to catch one glance at the horrific sight that befalls her.
“Phhhhhhhfhfhfhfhfhfhfhf!” Jordyn stifles, pursing her lips with all her might, not wanting to give the quintet the satisfaction of her suffering.
“Go ahead Jordy,” Penny dictates, slowly picking up speed as her nails begin skittering over her delicate armpits. “Laugh.” That word echoes through them all, repeating it over and over as Jordyn’s lips begin slowly peeling open, revealing a toothy grin of forced mirth. The strained giggles slowly seeping out from her gullet, Jordyn begins to realize any efforts to suppress her reactions are completely useless.
“I said laugh bitch!” Penny commands, digging her nails deep into the flesh of her armpits. Throwing her head back, Jordyn lets out a piercing scream, followed closely by a torrent of full-throated laughter.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” she cackles, much to the delight of her captors, watching her struggle mightily against their grasp to no avail. “NO WAIT!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET!!”
“Not gonna happen you little tattletale!” Penny responds, using her thumbs to dig deep into Jordyn’s sides. Such torments would have been bed enough, her wild shrieks ascending yet another octave, but little could she imagine her merely to be leaving her sisters room to do their work.
“STAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Jordyn screams, feeling the sharpened nails of Tracy and Remi make their slow descent into her vulnerable underarms. Seated atop her forearms, pinning them to the ground below, they have rendered her completely helpless to defend herself, only to claw at the ground behind them in desperate form. Tears freefalling down her cheeks, soaking the ground below, the thought of three women taking her body to town, throwing her into a maelstrom of tortured laughter, shook the ground under her feet.
That was until she realized there were two more of them.
Even through the horrid overstimulation she was being subjected to, her underarms and sides getting an unhealthy dose of ticklish torments as it is, she could still feel the subtle sensation of her shoelaces being tugged on, slowly unraveling much to her chagrin. She knows exactly what they are doing, and she will have nothing of it: with a force like no other she presses her toes against the rubber sole of her shoe, securing her footwear from their possession. Pursing her lips, furrowing her brow, it is all but completely apparent just how hard she is trying to keep them on, and how futile such an effort truly is.
“Are you being stubborn Jordy?” Penny coos at her captive, noting the glare of defiance in her captive she shoots back. “We can’t have that, now can we?” Without warning, taking the two knuckles of her middle fingers, she digs then straight into Jordyn’s ribcage, twisting and churning into the sensitive flesh with sadistic glee.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” she screams at the top of her lungs, throwing her head back in utter desperation. With Penny kneading up and down her ribs, and the other two sisters pressing into the supple muscle just underneath her bicep, Jordyn can only stand idly by as her shoes are slipped off her socked feet and thrown at her sides.
“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAT THE FEEEEEEEEEEEET!” she screams at the top of her lungs, the utter distress she is under clouding her better judgement. “PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEASEEEEEEEEEEE!!”
“Oh, we wouldn’t think about skipping that over, huh girls?” Penny asks them, prompting moans of confirmation as they ratchet up the intensity even further. Nodding silently to one another, both Amber and Darby grasp the thin material by the toe and, in one fell swoop, they strip her of her socks, tossing them over their shoulders as they begin scraping into her freshly pedicured soles. As she watches her last vestige of protection fall to the ground beside her, a small piece of Jordyn’s soul goes with it.
“STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAP!!” Jordyn squeals, her horrid voice echoing off these solemn trees, indifferent to her plight. That normally soothing girlish voice now transformed into a hellish screeching the likes of which she has never experienced, it just one more element to their torments the Five Points revel in again and again.
Caressing the sides of her feet, they extract the most primal of reactions from the cornered creature. As Darby traces her fingers over her ankles, Amber slowly makes her way to the top of her right foot, her elongated nails making sure no square inch of her flesh goes unscathed. Their faces betray the sadistic pleasure they derive from Jordyn’s desperately flailing feet, resting their tongues between their teeth as they find yet another spot to drive the poor girl livid.
“MEEEEEERCYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!” Jordyn can barely eek out, bucking against their grasp as she is locked in place without even a single restraint.
“You don’t get any mercy bitch!” Tracy responds, making her way into the top of Jordyn’s ribs, lacing her fingers through their tender slits. Never in her wildest dreams she would have thought she would bear witness to such a horrific tickle torture again, let alone experience one firsthand. It is as though someone had photographed Miley’s plight and pasted Jordyn in her place, for every detail it seemed to be a direct repeat of her experience: their positions, the way they verbally tease her, the cadence of their attacks, every detail was a direct repeat of that one day, as though they had rehearsed it time and time again.
What Jordyn could have never conceived was just how primed these five ladies were for this task. She couldn’t possibly have imagined just how many they had practiced on before, how many excruciating sessions they had with those unsuspecting victims that dared slight them in the most minuscule of ways. Within Jordyn lives the memories of countless victims they have dealt with over the years, even the smallest item inciting flashbacks of their victims from years prior.
The way Jordyn claws at the ground beneath her in desperate attempt at escape is reminiscent of Crissy Michaels, a popular young professor of English Literature that had the misfortune of correcting Amber’s use of “Saharan dessert” on a short essay assignment. Last time they heard, she had been forced to move back in with her parents, having been treated to an uninterrupted “detention” of relentless tickling bound across her office floor one unfortunately quiet Saturday morning.
The way her howling shrieks quickly morph into torrents of forced laughter reminds them of Sabrina Mitsuko, a sophomore on a gymnastics scholarship at Pinebrook three years ago that made the mistake of referring to Tracy’s hair as merely “nice.” What transpired was a long Sunday afternoon bound in the splits to the balance beam, brought to tears through their devilish nails across her tender soles and underarms, followed by a quick flight back to Tokyo the next morning.
Finally, the way she pleads for mercy through her hapless tears, screeching cries, and whispered shrieks is akin to that of Melanie, a young Honduran immigrant serving as a maid in Penny’s beach house. A broken vase resulted in three full days of tickle torture, bound to her own bed, stripped nude and teased mercilessly across her quivering flesh as she pled with her captors in broken English, only to meet the bad end of an immigration court by the end of it all.
However, despite all these associations, they had to admit to themselves one thing: Jordyn was special. Nobody before her had had the gall to personally report them to school authorities, risking everything just to avenge their best friend’s torments. She was worthy of something more, and for that, she had to be treated to something special.
“You know what we do to really bad girls Jordy?” Amber asks, watching the mascara-stained tears drop from her eyes sliding down her cheeks. “We bring out the big guns.” Through her blurring eyes, head hoisted up personally by Tracy and Remi, Jordyn is struck with a sight that will forever be stained into her mind: two mascara brushes, nestled in each of Amber’s hands, with two hairbrushes in those of Darby. In one fell swoop, they descend upon her quivering flesh, ravaging her soles with wild abandonment.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” She lets out al almighty wail, feeling the entirely new sensation befall her reddening bare feet, unable to stop them as they all descend upon her person at once. They alternate tools, from the hardened bristles of the hairbrush to the invasively soft teeth of the mascara brush, a palette of ticklish torments too much to bear for the poor girl. She thought the brush was the worst of it until, much to her horror, a single mascara brush made it in between her toes, sending her shrieks over the moon. She curled them in response, hoping to have at least one thing to herself, but would find nothing was off limits to these ladies.
“Keep them open or you really get punished!” Darby commands her, sensing just how mentally weak they have made her over the course of several hours in their clutches for one by one, they watch as her toes separate from one another, leaving room for the dastardly mascara brushes to do their work. They have done it: cornering the poor creature, pinning her mentally without her knowing it. Such is merely the result of time, the extensive conditioning one must be put through to work against your own interests, bending to another’s will despite your desire to resist.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!” she wails, feeling their fine bristles caress the delicate flesh in between her toes. Her face contorted in the most inhuman of expressions, a cocktail of terror and indignation with pure unadulterated suffering, she is merely betraying just how vulnerable she has become to their influence, a note they will surely use against her.
“You’re going to come to each of our houses and clean them top to bottom!” Penny commands, digging her nails back into her tender hips.
“YEEEEEEEEEEES!! YEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHESSSSSSS!!” she shouts in response, just hoping it all to be over, no matter what the cost of it.
“Then you’re going to rub our feet, and kiss the ground they walk on!” Tracy adds in as well. “Do you understand?!”
“ANYTHING YOU WANT!!” she screams at the top of her lungs, completely at their mercy from here on out.
“You’re out little tickle slave now!” Remi iterates. “Say it!” She is desperate, mouthing such a horrid response without the breath to vocalize it, as her tormentors hadn’t given her even a moment of repose.
“SAY IT!!” they repeat over and over again, a cascade of demands coming from each of them, exerting their complete dominance over this delicate creature.
“I’M YOUR TICKLE SLAVE!!” she finally shouts, descending into a world of chaos as they ravage her soles with the hairbrushes anyways, exerting their ultimate control over her mind, body, and spirit as their new tickle slave.
It would be another 90 minutes before they ceased, three times the amount spent breaking Miley. They would confiscate her white sneakers and socks for themselves, Darby hoisting them over her shoulder in conquering fashion having broken the poor girl’s spirit in two. Teetering giggles escape her trembling lips, the reverberation of such prolonged torments still lingering even several moments after the fact. Tears freefall from her cheeks, but she neither weeps nor whimpers: her mind shattered into a million pieces, it is only her body that is reeling from it all, remembering everything they did to her over the past several uninterrupted hours she was subjected to.
They took her to their mansion, hoisting her over their shoulders for greater torments to follow. Night after endless night, they dressed her in the most demeaning of costumes, from French maid to naughty nurse, playing out their darkest fantasies with her as their new plaything. Little by little, she was stripped of everything that made her Jordyn, responding only to the commands of her mistresses whenever they called. Soon they would own her: credit card numbers, bank account passwords, financial documents, every sensitive piece of information she had to her name was gradually syphoned out of her person, anything just to make sure she would never be able to claim her past life, but it wouldn’t end there.
It was at a press conference the next week that she recanted her story, admitting to fabricating every detail of her account, solely due to jealousy of the sisters and their success at the school. Publicly she was shamed, with calls for her expulsion from the institution, only to be answered by calls for mercy from the sisters themselves. They swore that nothing was taken to heart, and that it was merely the result of a misguided girl’s calls for attention. To keep her at school, they promised that they would shape her into a model student at Pinebrook University, taking her under their wing for as long as it took to find her way, not letting anything stop them from molding her into a perfect reflection of themselves.
The End
