tkl-pen
1st Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Dec 30, 2001
- Messages
- 2,001
- Points
- 0
The man gently lifted her long blonde hair and unclipped the buckle behind her head. He
carefully removed the big dildo gag from her mouth and wiped off the saliva with a
cleaning cloth. Tracy couldn’t speak, even with the gag taken out of her mouth. She
turned her head to the side and softly told him she was sorry. So softly, in fact, that he
could hardly make it out. He brought a bowl of cool water and a face towel into view,
dipped the towel into the water and gently wiped the sweat and tears from Tracy’s face
and neck. It felt so good to her. He then moved back to the stool by her feet and
carefully washed her feet with the cool water. When he was done, he simply got up and
left the room through the sliding door.
A few minutes later, the same man who had brought her into the room arrived to release
her from the tickling chair. He released the lap belt and the wrist restraints first and put
the handcuffs back on her wrists. Then, he opened the footstocks and helped her off the
tickling chair and onto her feet. Surprisingly, her feet tingled from the falaka but they
were not too sore to stand up on them. She asked him if she could speak before she said
anything else since she didn’t want that big dildo gag back into her mouth. She asked if
she could use the toilet and he told her that he was taking her to a washroom where she
could not only relieve herself but take a shower as well. In fact, he took her back to her
quarters where a lunch of tuna salad and fresh fruit was waiting on the table. He removed
the handcuffs and told her to be ready in one hour. If she was not finished lunch,
showered and changed by that time, he told her that he would introduce her to the whip
on the wall by the door. She knew he meant it, too, and she went directly to the
washroom.
As she expected, the door of her quarters slid open exactly one hour after she arrived.
She had eaten her lunch, used the toilet, showered, brushed her hair and changed into a
clean, yellow silk dress. It seemed to her that the yellow silk dress was required as
clothing for a girl in the house as she had seen several others similarly attired. All of the
girls, like Tracy, were barefoot and wore no underwear. The yellow silk dresses were
little more than decoration, she figured, because all of a girl’s curves were clearly
outlined when she wore it. The man tied a bright green silk cord around her waist which
made her curves that much more apparent and made the dress ride that much higher on
her thighs. The man again put her in handcuffs. Then he took her out through the sliding
door and down the big curved staircase. The older man was waiting for her at the bottom
of the stairs.
“Well, well,” he said, as he indicated to the other man to remove the handcuffs, and
which he did, “you look a lot better now than you did when I left you in the tickling chair.
How are your feet?”
“They’re a little tingly, but otherwise okay,” she said, “why did you bring me here and do
this to me?”
“Lift your hair,” he told her as checked the locked metal collar around her neck, “this is a
special collar that I can use to cause you pain or stun you, to keep track of your location
and to monitor your vital signs.”
“Okay,” she said, letting her hair fall back down over her shoulders, “I see.”
“I’m sure you’ll remember several years ago, when I came to know you at a seminar we
had both attended, that I asked you out for dinner,” he started, “and you not only turned
me down but you did so in a manner that was quite embarrassing for me in front of a
substantial number of people on whom I depended for respect.”
“Yes, I think so,” she replied, “but I had every right to turn you down since you were a lot
older than me and I had a boyfriend, too.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, “the young laborer who took you out for jambalaya that very evening,
and who died a few days later in an auto accident, as I recall.”
“Yes, that was him,” she said, her eyes growing wide with the realization that the man
was behind the death of her boyfriend, or at least had something to do with it, “it was you
who had him killed!”
“Perhaps you think that,” he said, “but it was a traffic accident to the best of my
knowledge.”
“Right,” she said, “and the other four boyfriends that I had since he died were all killed in
one kind of accident or another. Now I know why!”
“Come, let me show you something,” he said, indicating that she should walk with him to
the other wing of the house where she had been tortured that morning.
“Please don’t torture me again,” she pleaded, as she walked with him with her hand in
his.
“No, not for now,” he said, “we have two young maidens who were on the aircraft with
you to provide the entertainment this afternoon.”
“What are you going to do to me, to them, to all of us,” Tracy asked, “are you going to
kill us?”
“That depends on a few things,” he told her, “mainly on the things that you are going to
do.”
“Like what,” she asked.
“We can talk about that later,” he said, “for now we have other things to attend to.”
One of the sliding doors on the right side of the corridor opened silently and the man
motioned for Tracy to enter the room. Again, she was shocked by what she saw. In the
center of the room were two large X-shaped tables, red in color, with a number of
restraints attached to them. Directly above the tables there were a number of robotic arms
equipped with various devices including feathers, brushes and dildos. They looked very
sinister and, after her experience that morning, Tracy could barely imagine their purpose.
“Come,” said the man, “stand over here.”
Tracy did as he indicated and allowed him to place leather restraints on her wrists. She
thought it would be better for her not to resist. He clipped a chain to the D-rings of her
wrist restraints and then winched her wrists up over her head until she was standing on
the balls of her feet and her toes. She could feel her breasts lifted and forward, the dress
very high up on her thighs and her feet in the sexy position of high-heeled shoes.
“Are you going to tickle me again,” she asked, warily.
“No, Tracy, not for now,” he said, she squealing as he momentarily tickled her ribs, “you
are only here to watch your fellow travellers for a while.”
The door slid open silently, as did all the doors in this house, and guards escorted two
young women into the room, both dressed in the jeans and tops they had worn when they
were captured. They still wore the collars, as well. Pamela, a stunning twenty-four year
old blonde, slightly overweight with the softness of baby fat, wore a pink top. Alissa, a
pretty 23-year old long-haired dark blonde, also slightly overweight with voluptuous
curves of baby fat, wore a white top with her jeans. Both girls wore athletic shoes and
socks. The guards who had entered with the two girls removed their handcuffs and
placed them in leather restraints in the same position as Tracy, with their hands over their
heads and raised up onto the balls of their feet.
“What do you think of these two girls, Tracy,” he asked, “did I choose well from among
all of the women I could have taken?”
“They’re fat,” she said.
“I don’t think they’re fat,” he said, “they have some baby fat that make them deliciously
curvy and voluptuous.”
“Well, well, ladies,” said the older man, turning to Pamela and Alissa, “welcome to my
estate.”
“Who the hell are you,” asked Pamela, apprehensively eyeing the two tables in the center
of the chamber, “and what do you want with us?”
“All in good time,” he said, “I do hope you slept well and had something to eat and drink
this morning. Your clothes were returned to you for this special occasion, of course,
since you would normally wear a yellow silk dress like Tracy here on Tongarava.”
“What special event are you talking about,” asked Alissa, also apprehensive but
pretending not to look at the tables.
“Ladies, I am a businessman,” he explained, “and a very successful one with major
industrial interests in a number of countries. Understandably, I want each of my
enterprises to be very successful and profitable. In China, people believe in Feng-Sui
which they understand is pleasing to God and the ritual becomes a part of every new
venture. Other places have different rites and customs.”
“Yes,” said Pamela, her eyes still on the X-shaped tables, not quite comprehending what
they were there for.
“In the Polynesian world, the ancestral realm of Hawaii and the South Pacific, it was
believed that the laughter of young maidens was particularly pleasing to God and would
lead him to look favorably upon them. Therefore, they would capture young women from
other villages and islands, bring them home and have them tied up and tickled relentlessly
by the women of their own village.”
‘No, please,” pleaded Alissa, “I’m too ticklish!”
“It’s okay, Alis,” said Pamela, “it’s only a story to frighten us.”
“Ladies, I have been very fond of tickling and female torture since I was a young boy,” he
went on, “and I have adopted the philosophy that the laughter of young women will,
indeed, bring me great success in the things that I do because God does look favorably
upon my industrial projects, wherever they may be. At this time, I would like that favor
to fall upon such enterprises in the area where you live. I also believe that the young
women from whom this laughter is extracted will also be looked upon favorably.”
“You’re insane,” said Pamela, “you’ll never get away with this!”
“You’re quite mistaken,” he said, “I am actually very wise and very successful.
Moreover, I will, so to speak, get away with it, and when you go home in a few days, you
will have quite a different perspective on your time here.”
“Whatever,” said Alissa, as he looked into her eyes.
“So, who will be first onto the altar of laughing tears,” he said, looking into each of their
eyes, “will it be you, Pamela, or you, frightened, pretty Alissa?”
“Leave her alone, you pervert,” said Pamela.
“Ah,” he responded, looking at Pamela, “so it’s going to be Pamela first, is it? You don’t
want to wait your turn?”
“Go to hell,” she said, sneering at him.
“I would suggest, Pamela, that you follow my instructions to the letter,” he said, tapping
the metal collar around her neck, “and don’t try to run or attack me. If you do, this collar
will painfully stop you in your tracks and stun you without warning.”
“Whatever,” she responded.
Slowly, he lowered her wrists and unclipped her restraints from the chain of the windlass.
Then, he removed the leather restraints from Pamela’s wrists.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” he said, “I would like you to walk over to the right table, the
one closest to the door, remove your clothes and lie down on the table.”
Pamela walked to the table as she was instructed. She bent down and pretended to untie
one of her shoes. Suddenly, she bolted for the door. Immediately, she was zapped with a
powerful electric charge from the collar. The man had been waiting for her to try to
escape. The guards lifted the stunned girl onto the table. The older man removed her
shoes and placed them on a nearby cart. As the guards held her up in a seated position, he
took off her top. Next, he unbuckled and opened her jeans, then pulled them down over
her ankles and feet. He then took off her bra and her panties, leaving her completely
naked, except for her socks. He placed her arms into the padded stainless steel wrist and
arm restraints, which instantly snapped shut. He spread her legs widely and placed them
into the stainless steel ankle and knee restraints which also snapped shut instantly. He
touched a button on a nearby computer terminal and a similar padded stainless steel
restraint snapped tightly around her stomach. She was perfectly secured for anything that
the man or his machine wanted to do to her.
With the touch of another control switch, one of the arms equipped with a large dildo
descended toward Pamela’s genitals. The dildo was self-lubricating and dripping with its
fluids. Carefully he parted Pamela’s genital lips and allowed the dildo to enter about
three inches inside of her.
“That brings us to Alissa,” he said, as he approached the frightened girl, lowered the
windlass and released her wrists, “do you want to take off your clothes and get on the
table or would you like me to do it for you?”
“No, I’ll do it,” she said, looking at him as menacingly as she could with the little courage
she could find within herself.
Alissa first took off her shoes, then her jeans, followed by her t-shirt, her socks, bra and
panties. She held back her tears as she slowly removed her clothing, knowing that she
would be stunned and stripped if she tried to run. She blushed as she felt herself naked in
front of the older man and the guards. She was sure they had enjoyed watching her strip
herself naked.
“Up on the table, please,” said the man, motioning to the table on the left side.
Alissa slowly lifted herself up onto the table and carefully lowered herself down into
position, placing her wrists, arms, knees and ankles in the applicable restraints, which
snapped shut the moment she touched them. Next came the remaining restraint that
circled her stomach and held her down to the surface of the table.
“So you think she’s fat, do you,” he said to Tracy, as he prodded Alissa’s side, stomach
and thighs with his finger, causing her to squirm and cry out, “I’ll admit she has some fat
on her but it just makes her wonderfully soft and a little jiggly. To a man like myself, this
is not fat but rather voluptuous.”
“Hey, don’t,” said Alissa, as he bent over, kissed her breast and gently bit her nipple,
“you pervert.”
“Call me whatever you like, young lady,” he said, “the fun is about to begin.”
Alissa watched in horror as the robotic arm with a large, lubricant-dripping dildo lowered
itself into place between her legs. She bit her lip as she felt the man’s fingers open her
genital lips and move the dildo slightly inside her. She clenched her fists and glexed her
toes as she felt the sensation of the dildo entering her.
On the other table, to Alissa’s right, Pamela started to stir. Within moments, she was
wide awake. She panicked as she felt the restraints on her arms and legs, and the cold
material of the dildo inside her. She tried with all her might to move her hips and
dislodge the intruder inside her most private parts. It was, understandably, useless.
“Please let us go,” she pleaded, as she saw the man standing beside her, “we haven’t done
anything to you.”
“No, you haven’t,” he said, as he gently stroked the soles of her feet causing her to
squirm, “but you are about to do something very special for me.”
“Like hell, I’m not doing anything for you,” she said, as he stroked her right breast with
his finger, pinched and then kissed and gently bit her nipple, “hey, don’t do that!”
“It is time to start the process of the sacrifice, the gift of laughing tears to God,” he said,
as he moved to the computer terminal, “to begin with, the dildo inside you will start
pumping gently in and out of you, becoming more intense by the minute, until you
climax. The robot will know when you climax and also if you resist, which will cause the
system to work that much harder to force you to orgasm.”
“Big deal,” said Alissa, “you didn’t have to strap us down to make us orgasm. We can do
that quite nicely on our own.”
“Ah, yes, I can well imagine,” he said, “but once you have climaxed and you are fully
aroused sexually, the robotics will start to tickle you. The system will continue until
forty-five minutes from the first stroke of the dildo inside you have passed. It will then
give you a fifteen minute rest, after which the cycle will repeat itself. By the time you are
finished, you will have completed ten cycles.”
“Oh, my God, you really are crazy,” cried Pamela.
“One more thing, ladies, is that we want to hear ten hours of continuous laughter,” he
said, “so one of your systems will start now and the other in thirty minutes. That way,
one of you will be laughing while the other is resting. I wonder who should be the first.”
“Aaah,” cried Alissa, as she felt the dildo force its way inside of her. It was big but she
was already wet from the anticipation and the sensation of the dildo barely inside her
waiting to start. She struggled against her restraints as the relentless pumping into her
vagina continued. She resisted the feelings of her building sexual arousal and excitement
with everything she had but, of course, no woman can resist the device for more than a
few minutes. The machine started pumping faster and faster. To her horror and dismay,
Alissa felt the orgasm coming closer and closer.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!,” she screamed, between labored breaths, as the climax
finally hit her after perhaps seven minutes, gritting her teeth, arching her back, and
clenching her fists, “Aaaaaaah!”
The robotic arms above the tickling table started to move, bringing soft brushes, like
artist’s paint brushes and Japanese calligraphy brushes, into place. Soft brushes began to
stroke her armpits, breasts, navel, sides, abdomen, thighs and knees. More brushes in
place on the soles of her feet began to move, too, and even more soft brushes moved into
place onto the tops of her feet. Alissa bit her lip and squeezed her eyes tightly shut,
determined to resist the tickling that she know was coming any moment.
“Aaaaaaahaaahaaahaaa, nohohohoo,” she screamed in laughter as the tickling began in
every ticklish spot on her body, “oh, my Gohohohod!”
“Another twenty minutes, Pamela,” said the man to the girl on the other table, “it will be
your turn. Do you think you’ll be more ticklish than Alissa?”
“Please don’t do this to us,” said Pamela, “I’ll do anything you want if you let us off
here.”
“I’m afraid, though, Pamela,” he said, “that this is what I want. I want to hear you both
screaming in forced laughter as the machine tears orgasms from your body and tickles
you to the very edge of insanity.”
“Pleeheeheese, you’re kihihilling meheehee,” screamed Alissa, her tears flowing down
her face and her dark blonde hair matting and sticking to her sweating skin as she rolled
her head from side to side. The tickling was so severe that she couldn’t even focus on
one part of her body or the other. She knew her breasts, armpits and navel, all of which
were terribly ticklish, were getting it beyond belief. Her abdomen, legs and feet, although
she could feel them, had more of a surreal feeling as though they were not really a part of
her and off in the distance somewhere but still firing agonizing sensations into her brain.
She was soon at the point where she couldn’t even form the thought of begging for the
tickling to stop anymore, the point he would call tickle hell.
“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no,” exclaimed Pamela, as she felt the dildo inside her force its
way farther and farther into her vagina. It felt huge. She thought it was going to push
itself all the way up to her stomach. But then it reversed itself and returned to its original
position. She tried desperately to move, but the waist restraint and the thigh restraints
above her knees held her pelvis and her genitals perfectly in position. Any resistance to
the mechanical lover ravaging her pussy was useless, completely futile. Even so, Pamela
was determined to fight it. But, as it happened, she climaxed a minute and a half sooner
than Alissa had done.
She watched in terror as the robotic arms above her began to move. First, there was only
a small tremor as the arms were charged with electricity and came to life. First to come
down was the single brushed arm to her navel and Pamela arched her back as she felt the
first sensations of the little soft brush on her skin. Next, two robotic arms lowered
themselves into place onto her breasts, with the soft bristles of their brushes coming to
rest directly on her blood-filled and very sensitive nipples. The rest followed, lowering
themselves into place at her armpits, sides, abdomen, thighs and feet.
“Oh, shihihihit,” she screamed at the man as she felt them start to move, taking her to his
favorite tickle hell just like Alissa, “I haaaate youhoohoo!”
“So, Tracy, what am I going to do with you,” he said, as he approached Tracy and tickled
her armpits and her ribs.
“Haven’t you done enough to me already,” she responded, as he lowered the windlass and
released her, “that tickling and whipping on my feet was terrible, and I’m really sorry for
the things I did.”
“Come,” he said, motioning her into the corridor, “I’ll show you something special that I
have for you.”
The two of them entered a room a short distance down the hallway that looked very much
like a hospital operating room. In the center of the room was a large stainless steel table
with heavy leather restraints in the corners for a girl’s wrists and ankles. Above the table
there were a number of mechanical arms and other machinery. Although Tracy wanted to
stop at the door and perhaps even try to run, she thought the better of it.
“Come,” he said, “sit on the edge of this table and I’ll tell you all about this room.”
“Please, no,” she said, as she held back from him when he tried to lift her onto the table.
“Don’t be scared,” he said, “I only want to show this to you.”
He gently lifted Tracy onto the edge of the table. She shuddered as she felt the cold
stainless steel of the table on her ass and the back of her thighs. Standing between her
legs, facing her, he held her in place as she sat on the edge of the table.
“Have you ever heard of the Ling-She,” he asked her.
“No, what’s that?”
“It is an ancient Chinese torture known as the death of a thousand cuts,” he explained, “in
which a woman would be spreadeagled, then carefully and slowly vivisected over many
hours. It was a very painful way to die.”
“Oh, my God,” she responded, “please don’t do that to me.”
“Here,” he said, “let me show you how I have updated this procedure.”
He lifted her legs and made Tracy lie down on the table. As she complained, and he
assured her that he was not going to hurt her, he fastened her wrists in the wrist cuffs and
her ankles in the ankle cuffs. Once again, she was helplessly strapped down. She tried to
pull her arms and legs free but it was to no avail. She wanted to cry and she started to
sweat. He pushed a switch on a control panel and the leather restraints, or at least the
chains to which they were attached, retracted and stretched her body to its full length,
perhaps a quarter inch short of hurting her. Metals lifts under her head, shoulder blades
and tailbone pushed up from the surface of the table and lifted her about eight inches
from its stainless metal surface. Stretched to the utmost, Tracy could not move.
“With the Ling-She, the torturer would make his cuts in a specific order,” the man
explained, running his finger from side to side across her left breast, “with the first two
hundred cuts alone being on the breasts, then on to the stomach and torso, then the arms
and legs, then the buttocks and lastly the feet. The final cut was always the one to the
throat that caused death.”
“Oh, God, that’s awful!” she told him.
“I have, as I said, updated the process,” he told her, “and these eight mechanical arms,
each equipped with a razor-sharp knife, will work in random order, controlled by a
computer, so that each cut will be in a different location and totally unexpected.
Moreover, because of its precision, this system can make three times as many cuts, a full
three thousand, before the girl dies. Of course, the girl gets two injections before the
system starts - a stimulant to keep her conscious and a coagulant to reduce the bleeding. I
wish I could turn it on for a moment to demonstrate it to you but once the system is
turned on it cannot be stopped.”
“Has a girl ever been killed with this machine,” asked Tracy.
“Yes, there have been several, perhaps two or three dozen,” he told her, “mainly
industrial spies and traitors to do with my business interests.”
“They must have screamed very loudly, though,” she said, “didn’t anybody hear them?”
“This room, like the others, is completely soundproof,” he said, “and, of course, we are
on a remote, private island. Even if the islanders and staff who work for me here knew
about it, they would think very carefully in the event their wives or daughters might be
brought in here.”
“This machine is presently waiting for its next victim,” he said, “who is on the island
now. As you probably realize, that next victim is you. The machine is already committed
for you and you are going to be on it tomorrow.”
“No, please, I didn’t do you that much harm!”
“There is an option for you,” he told her, “that will exchange the sharp knives in these
mechanical arms with stiff feathers. The blades will retract and specially processed
feathers will take their place. These will give you the exact same strokes as the
razor-sharp blades without cutting you. It is a very intense and somewhat ticklish form of
sexual arousal that will make your entire skin and, in fact, your entire body, one single,
massive erogenous zone, and arouse you as you could never even imagine before. It is
incredible agony but it will not kill you, or even damage you.”
“What do you want me to do,” she asked, warily.
“I will give you the opportunity to have sex with me tonight and if that sex is good
enough to convince me to let you live, the machine will make its strokes with stiff
feathers instead of razor-sharp knives. You’ll have to make it really exceptional sex,
though, because you’ll be screwing for your life.”
He bent over and kissed her on the lips. He then released the restraints on her wrists and
ankles. Next, he helped her back into the sitting position on the edge of the table. He
kissed her again, passionately, and Tracy couldn’t help but respond. The last thing she
wanted was to be strapped onto that machine for the death of a thousand cuts. She was
surprised that she actually found it exciting to kiss this man. She threw her arms around
his neck and kissed him passionately.
“Let’s go back to the other room,” he said, as he motioned Tracy down the hallway, “and
see how our friends are doing.”
Alissa was finished her round of tickling, either the first or the second one, and she lay on
the table panting as she tried to catch her breath. Pamela was screaming with
uncontrollable laughter as her tickling continued relentlessly. The man took a wet towel
and wiped the sweat and tears from Alissa’s face. He let her drink some water from a
bottle.
“Please let is stop,” said Alissa, “I can’t take anymore!”
“But, of course, you can,” he said, “you are scheduled for ten one-hour cycles and I’m
afraid you must complete them.”
“No, please,” she pleaded, as she watched him leave the room, accompanied by the small
blonde girl.
“It seems we have some time to pass,” the man said, as they walked along the corridor,
“is there anything you would like to do, Tracy?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “I can’t think of anything.”
“I could take you back into the tickling chamber you visited this morning,” he said, “and
strap you onto one of the other devices for some more tickling.”
“Noooo, please don’t,” she pleaded.
“Alright, then,” he said, “how about another room where I could put you up on your toes
or hang you upside down and whip you.”
“No, please don’t torture me anymore,” she pleaded.
“Oh, I have an idea,” he said, “how about we get some horses and ride around the island?
Do you know how to ride?”
“Yes, of course, I can ride,” she said.
“But not in that yellow silk dress, I’m sure,” he told her, “if you go into that room to the
right, you will find jeans, a shirt, socks, riding boots, and anything else you’ll need. You
can meet me outside that far door in ten minutes.”
Tracy changed into the clothes that were waiting for her in the room he had showed her.
Small, blonde and sexy, she looked adorable in her cowboy outfit, which even included a
hat. When she left the house, or villa to be more precise, the man was outside waiting for
her with two horses.
“Here, allow me,” he said, as he lifted her up onto one of the horses, lovingly holding her
as he did so, “this is probably a nice horse for you.”
“Thankyou,” she said, “where are we going.”
“Just for a ride around the estate and a little part of this island,” he said, looking her over,
“you know, it’s going to be such a pity to have that machine disect you. I hope you’ll be
able to change my mind about it.”
“Please don’t do that to me,” she pleaded, “I’m sorry for the way I treated you that time.”
“We shall see tomorrow, won’t we,” he told her, in all sincerity, a tear almost forming in
his eye, for he truly liked this girl.
“I have a horse and rugged clothes,” she said, “I could run for it right now.”
“Yes, you could,” he responded, as they looked out over the Pacific from the top of a
small cliff, “but there are a few things you should consider first.”
“Like what,” she asked.
“There is no transportation off this island,” he said, “for the planes are at an airstrip on
another island more than an hour away by boat. The waters around this island are
infested with sharks who would be more than happy to see a young girl in the water.”
“Oh, my God,” she said, “did anybody every try?”
“Yes, several did,” he told her, “but the collar you have has many different functions, one
of which is to send out the electrical signals of a wounded fish to which the sharks will
immediately respond. One girl was even having a monthly period when she tried to swim
to the island in the distance.”
“Did she make it,” asked Tracy.
“Of course, not,” he said, “she was bleeding into the water as she tried to swim. Sharks
can sense blood in the water in the very smallest trace amounts.”
“It might be faster, though, than the machine you have inside,” she pointed out, “and less
painful.”
“Perhaps,” he suggested, “but you still have a chance of avoiding the Ling-She tomorrow
- with the sharks, you won’t have any chance at all.”
Returning to the villa after a ride of several hours, local villagers had prepared a luau in
the gardens. The sun had started to fall over the horizon and torches had been lit. Conch
shells sounded out to call everyone. Tracy had a fabulous time eating, singing, even
dancing, as the evening wore on. She had changed back into a silk dress, a white one this
time, and she looked particularly beautiful wearing a fragrant yellow ginger lei and a
flower that one of the dancers had placed in her hair. She was a little tipsy, but not quite
drunk, from the fruity beverages they had given her. It was a magnificent time.
“The time has come to release the other girls,” said the man, “would you like to stay here
or do you want to come?”
“I’ll come,” said Tracy.
They went back into the special wing of the villa where the tickling chambers were
located and entered the room where Pamela and Alissa were strapped to the tickling
machines. Pamela looked toward the door as they entered.
“Please, no more,” she pleaded softly, still out of breath and clearly exhausted, “no
more!”
He went to the computer console and flipped a switch that released all of the restraints
holding the two girls to the tables. The various robotic arms had already retracted into
their places near the ceiling when the tenth one-hour cycle was completed. Even freed,
though, neither girl was able to get up from her table. The man placed his arms around
Pamela and helped her into a sitting position, turning her legs sideways off the table. He
did the same for Alissa.
“Come with us,” he told the two girls, “I’ll help you to walk.”
With Tracy’s help, he brought the two exhausted girls to another room nearby with a
large, Japanese-style bath. It had been filled with warm water fragranced by a variety of
flowers. While they seated the two girls on a wooden bench, he started to remove his
clothes indicating that Tracy should follow his lead. Soon, he was in the warm bath with
the three girls, and he was carefully washing Pamela’s hair and then bathing her body. He
then had Tracy hold Pamela, who now started to recover, as he did the same from Alissa,
who almost purred like a kitten as she felt his hands washing the sweat and tears away,
taking the soreness out of her body.
“I never want to go through that again,” said Alissa, as she started to recover, “Oh, my
God, please hold me!”
“We have a luau to go to,” he told her, as he held her gently for a minute or two, “you
need to have something to eat and drink.”
“But I’m too tired,” she purred, “I just want to go to bed.”
“And my pussy hurts,” said Pamela, “besides I am naked - I have nothing to wear.”
Before long, though, all three of the girls were wearing the white silk dresses, yellow
ginger leis and flowers in their hair. Pamela and Alissa did eat at the luau, under threat of
more tickling, and drank more than a few maitais. Tracy also had a few more maitais, or
some other fruity drinks, she didn’t know for sure.
After the luau, the four of them returned to the villa at about ten o’clock. Pamela and
Alissa were the first into their rooms, accompanied by the older man and Tracy. The man
made sure each of the girls was safely in her bed, since they had both been drinking and
had endured ten hours of tickling torture and forced orgasms earlier in the day. They fell
asleep almost immediately.
“Now we have something else to take care of,” cajoled the now somewhat tipsy Tracy,
throwing her arms around his neck, “will it be my place or yours?”
“How much did you drink,” he asked, as he escorted her into his room, almost carrying
her.”
“I don’t even know,” she said, crawling onto his bed, “but not nearly enough if I am going
to die tomorrow.”
“Come on, let’s tango,” she said, as she took the flower from her hair and put its stem
between her teeth.
She threw the flower aside, along with the yellow ginger lei, and lifted the white silk
dress over her head. She sat on her knees, her butt down on her heels, in the middle of
the big bed.
“Come here,” she purred, “let me fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before and
never will be again. I don’t want to be disected tomorrow!”
When he came onto the bed, Tracy, the little blonde, thirty-two year old flight attendant,
attacked him like a woman possessed. And possessed she was, by alcohol, by sexual
arousal and by passion. Four times she forced herself upon him. She kissed him more
passionately, held him tighter and screwed him harder than she had ever done with any
man before. Finally exhausted, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Little Tracy, drunk
or not, had done her best.
“Eat your breakfast,” he told Tracy, “nobody should be killed with an empty stomach.”
“Are you still going to kill me,” she asked softly, almost surprised by the idea.
“You will not know until the machine and its robotics start their work,” he said, “and
whatever they will do at that point cannot be stopped.”
“Why don’t you tell me,” she asked, “so I can at least be a little prepared.”
“Perhaps that’s part of your punishment,” he pointed out.
“You know, don’t you,” she said, “that I love you?”
“Yes, I think so,” he responded, “but I don’t know yet if I love you - I mean, really love
you.”
“When will you know,” she asked.
“I think when you are on that machine, naked, stretched and helpless,” he told her, “and I
have to push the button, that will be the time I will know, the time when my heart tells me
what to do.”
When they entered the operating chamber, with its terrible machinery, Pamela and Alissa
were already there, strapped into chairs by their wrists, waist and ankles, to watch the
activity that was about to take place. Tracy looked pale and scared but she walked in on
her own.
“Do you want a sedative, Tracy, before we begin,” he asked.
“No, I’m okay,” she told him, as she walked to the stainless steel table, “help me up.”
“You know I love you,” Tracy said softly into his ear as he lifted her onto the table.
He lifted her dress over her head and removed it, but left the collar in place. She laid
herself down in position and he carefully applied the leather wrist and ankle restraints.
“How do you feel,” he asked her.
“I’m so scared,” she said, “can’t you see my body shaking with fear. If this is what you
want, though, I can’t stop you.”
He moved to the computer console and pushed several switches while Pamela and Alissa
watched in horror. Tracy lay on the cold stainless steel table, naked and helpless,
quivering in fear and anticipation. Suddenly, she felt the restraints begin to stretch her
and the lifting blocks pushing up under her spine between her shoulder blades, under her
lower back just above her tail bone and under her head. She watched in terror as the
robotic arms above her quivered, coming to life, and then started to move toward her.
She wondered where the first cut with a razor-sharp knife would come.
Then, she felt it, on her left thigh. She felt it as it approached, as it touched her skin and
as it moved over her thigh. She could feel the incision but it didn’t hurt. Another robotic
arm came toward her and brought its blade onto her belly. It was so surreal to her that she
could see the arm coming, touching her skin, cutting and then not hurting. A third cut
was made into the top of her right foot. She was surprised that it tickled more than
anything - it didn’t hurt. The next one came to the top portion of her left breast. This was
the first time she could actually see the blade strike and cut over her skin. To her
surprise, though, the razor-sharp cutting blade had retracted and a stiff feather had taken
its place. Tracy wet herself, spraying her water all over the stainless steel table between
her legs. The man had decided to spare her life.
Shortly after Tracy’s Ling-She had started, the man had released the other two girls and
taken them out of the room, for a tour of the island and a picnic on the beach. He
explained to them that they would all be taken home during the night, they would wake
up in their own beds and they would be well paid for their weekend on the island.
When he turned to Tracy, about four hours later, she had endured over nine hundred
strokes of the feathers. These were large feathers from which the soft outer edges had
been removed and the inner portions had been stiffened with a resin glue. They felt like
knives on her skin but they did not cut. Instead, they caused the most erotic, ticklish
sensations imaginable. Tracy’s face was soaked with tears, her skin was sweaty from
strain and fear, her nipples were stiff and gorged with blood, and she was soaking wet
inside from the most intense sexual arousal.
The man released her and carried her back to the Japanese bath in another room. Gently
he washed her hair and her body, massaging her softly as he soaped her and rinsed her.
Suddenly, unable to control herself, she climbed up onto his lap, throwing him back
unexpectedly, and forced herself upon him again. Last night’s sex was to save her life,
but today it was absolute, wild animal lust.
“Oh, my God, my God, my God,” she cried as she came in a very intense orgasm, holding
him tightly, “I love you!”
carefully removed the big dildo gag from her mouth and wiped off the saliva with a
cleaning cloth. Tracy couldn’t speak, even with the gag taken out of her mouth. She
turned her head to the side and softly told him she was sorry. So softly, in fact, that he
could hardly make it out. He brought a bowl of cool water and a face towel into view,
dipped the towel into the water and gently wiped the sweat and tears from Tracy’s face
and neck. It felt so good to her. He then moved back to the stool by her feet and
carefully washed her feet with the cool water. When he was done, he simply got up and
left the room through the sliding door.
A few minutes later, the same man who had brought her into the room arrived to release
her from the tickling chair. He released the lap belt and the wrist restraints first and put
the handcuffs back on her wrists. Then, he opened the footstocks and helped her off the
tickling chair and onto her feet. Surprisingly, her feet tingled from the falaka but they
were not too sore to stand up on them. She asked him if she could speak before she said
anything else since she didn’t want that big dildo gag back into her mouth. She asked if
she could use the toilet and he told her that he was taking her to a washroom where she
could not only relieve herself but take a shower as well. In fact, he took her back to her
quarters where a lunch of tuna salad and fresh fruit was waiting on the table. He removed
the handcuffs and told her to be ready in one hour. If she was not finished lunch,
showered and changed by that time, he told her that he would introduce her to the whip
on the wall by the door. She knew he meant it, too, and she went directly to the
washroom.
As she expected, the door of her quarters slid open exactly one hour after she arrived.
She had eaten her lunch, used the toilet, showered, brushed her hair and changed into a
clean, yellow silk dress. It seemed to her that the yellow silk dress was required as
clothing for a girl in the house as she had seen several others similarly attired. All of the
girls, like Tracy, were barefoot and wore no underwear. The yellow silk dresses were
little more than decoration, she figured, because all of a girl’s curves were clearly
outlined when she wore it. The man tied a bright green silk cord around her waist which
made her curves that much more apparent and made the dress ride that much higher on
her thighs. The man again put her in handcuffs. Then he took her out through the sliding
door and down the big curved staircase. The older man was waiting for her at the bottom
of the stairs.
“Well, well,” he said, as he indicated to the other man to remove the handcuffs, and
which he did, “you look a lot better now than you did when I left you in the tickling chair.
How are your feet?”
“They’re a little tingly, but otherwise okay,” she said, “why did you bring me here and do
this to me?”
“Lift your hair,” he told her as checked the locked metal collar around her neck, “this is a
special collar that I can use to cause you pain or stun you, to keep track of your location
and to monitor your vital signs.”
“Okay,” she said, letting her hair fall back down over her shoulders, “I see.”
“I’m sure you’ll remember several years ago, when I came to know you at a seminar we
had both attended, that I asked you out for dinner,” he started, “and you not only turned
me down but you did so in a manner that was quite embarrassing for me in front of a
substantial number of people on whom I depended for respect.”
“Yes, I think so,” she replied, “but I had every right to turn you down since you were a lot
older than me and I had a boyfriend, too.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, “the young laborer who took you out for jambalaya that very evening,
and who died a few days later in an auto accident, as I recall.”
“Yes, that was him,” she said, her eyes growing wide with the realization that the man
was behind the death of her boyfriend, or at least had something to do with it, “it was you
who had him killed!”
“Perhaps you think that,” he said, “but it was a traffic accident to the best of my
knowledge.”
“Right,” she said, “and the other four boyfriends that I had since he died were all killed in
one kind of accident or another. Now I know why!”
“Come, let me show you something,” he said, indicating that she should walk with him to
the other wing of the house where she had been tortured that morning.
“Please don’t torture me again,” she pleaded, as she walked with him with her hand in
his.
“No, not for now,” he said, “we have two young maidens who were on the aircraft with
you to provide the entertainment this afternoon.”
“What are you going to do to me, to them, to all of us,” Tracy asked, “are you going to
kill us?”
“That depends on a few things,” he told her, “mainly on the things that you are going to
do.”
“Like what,” she asked.
“We can talk about that later,” he said, “for now we have other things to attend to.”
One of the sliding doors on the right side of the corridor opened silently and the man
motioned for Tracy to enter the room. Again, she was shocked by what she saw. In the
center of the room were two large X-shaped tables, red in color, with a number of
restraints attached to them. Directly above the tables there were a number of robotic arms
equipped with various devices including feathers, brushes and dildos. They looked very
sinister and, after her experience that morning, Tracy could barely imagine their purpose.
“Come,” said the man, “stand over here.”
Tracy did as he indicated and allowed him to place leather restraints on her wrists. She
thought it would be better for her not to resist. He clipped a chain to the D-rings of her
wrist restraints and then winched her wrists up over her head until she was standing on
the balls of her feet and her toes. She could feel her breasts lifted and forward, the dress
very high up on her thighs and her feet in the sexy position of high-heeled shoes.
“Are you going to tickle me again,” she asked, warily.
“No, Tracy, not for now,” he said, she squealing as he momentarily tickled her ribs, “you
are only here to watch your fellow travellers for a while.”
The door slid open silently, as did all the doors in this house, and guards escorted two
young women into the room, both dressed in the jeans and tops they had worn when they
were captured. They still wore the collars, as well. Pamela, a stunning twenty-four year
old blonde, slightly overweight with the softness of baby fat, wore a pink top. Alissa, a
pretty 23-year old long-haired dark blonde, also slightly overweight with voluptuous
curves of baby fat, wore a white top with her jeans. Both girls wore athletic shoes and
socks. The guards who had entered with the two girls removed their handcuffs and
placed them in leather restraints in the same position as Tracy, with their hands over their
heads and raised up onto the balls of their feet.
“What do you think of these two girls, Tracy,” he asked, “did I choose well from among
all of the women I could have taken?”
“They’re fat,” she said.
“I don’t think they’re fat,” he said, “they have some baby fat that make them deliciously
curvy and voluptuous.”
“Well, well, ladies,” said the older man, turning to Pamela and Alissa, “welcome to my
estate.”
“Who the hell are you,” asked Pamela, apprehensively eyeing the two tables in the center
of the chamber, “and what do you want with us?”
“All in good time,” he said, “I do hope you slept well and had something to eat and drink
this morning. Your clothes were returned to you for this special occasion, of course,
since you would normally wear a yellow silk dress like Tracy here on Tongarava.”
“What special event are you talking about,” asked Alissa, also apprehensive but
pretending not to look at the tables.
“Ladies, I am a businessman,” he explained, “and a very successful one with major
industrial interests in a number of countries. Understandably, I want each of my
enterprises to be very successful and profitable. In China, people believe in Feng-Sui
which they understand is pleasing to God and the ritual becomes a part of every new
venture. Other places have different rites and customs.”
“Yes,” said Pamela, her eyes still on the X-shaped tables, not quite comprehending what
they were there for.
“In the Polynesian world, the ancestral realm of Hawaii and the South Pacific, it was
believed that the laughter of young maidens was particularly pleasing to God and would
lead him to look favorably upon them. Therefore, they would capture young women from
other villages and islands, bring them home and have them tied up and tickled relentlessly
by the women of their own village.”
‘No, please,” pleaded Alissa, “I’m too ticklish!”
“It’s okay, Alis,” said Pamela, “it’s only a story to frighten us.”
“Ladies, I have been very fond of tickling and female torture since I was a young boy,” he
went on, “and I have adopted the philosophy that the laughter of young women will,
indeed, bring me great success in the things that I do because God does look favorably
upon my industrial projects, wherever they may be. At this time, I would like that favor
to fall upon such enterprises in the area where you live. I also believe that the young
women from whom this laughter is extracted will also be looked upon favorably.”
“You’re insane,” said Pamela, “you’ll never get away with this!”
“You’re quite mistaken,” he said, “I am actually very wise and very successful.
Moreover, I will, so to speak, get away with it, and when you go home in a few days, you
will have quite a different perspective on your time here.”
“Whatever,” said Alissa, as he looked into her eyes.
“So, who will be first onto the altar of laughing tears,” he said, looking into each of their
eyes, “will it be you, Pamela, or you, frightened, pretty Alissa?”
“Leave her alone, you pervert,” said Pamela.
“Ah,” he responded, looking at Pamela, “so it’s going to be Pamela first, is it? You don’t
want to wait your turn?”
“Go to hell,” she said, sneering at him.
“I would suggest, Pamela, that you follow my instructions to the letter,” he said, tapping
the metal collar around her neck, “and don’t try to run or attack me. If you do, this collar
will painfully stop you in your tracks and stun you without warning.”
“Whatever,” she responded.
Slowly, he lowered her wrists and unclipped her restraints from the chain of the windlass.
Then, he removed the leather restraints from Pamela’s wrists.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” he said, “I would like you to walk over to the right table, the
one closest to the door, remove your clothes and lie down on the table.”
Pamela walked to the table as she was instructed. She bent down and pretended to untie
one of her shoes. Suddenly, she bolted for the door. Immediately, she was zapped with a
powerful electric charge from the collar. The man had been waiting for her to try to
escape. The guards lifted the stunned girl onto the table. The older man removed her
shoes and placed them on a nearby cart. As the guards held her up in a seated position, he
took off her top. Next, he unbuckled and opened her jeans, then pulled them down over
her ankles and feet. He then took off her bra and her panties, leaving her completely
naked, except for her socks. He placed her arms into the padded stainless steel wrist and
arm restraints, which instantly snapped shut. He spread her legs widely and placed them
into the stainless steel ankle and knee restraints which also snapped shut instantly. He
touched a button on a nearby computer terminal and a similar padded stainless steel
restraint snapped tightly around her stomach. She was perfectly secured for anything that
the man or his machine wanted to do to her.
With the touch of another control switch, one of the arms equipped with a large dildo
descended toward Pamela’s genitals. The dildo was self-lubricating and dripping with its
fluids. Carefully he parted Pamela’s genital lips and allowed the dildo to enter about
three inches inside of her.
“That brings us to Alissa,” he said, as he approached the frightened girl, lowered the
windlass and released her wrists, “do you want to take off your clothes and get on the
table or would you like me to do it for you?”
“No, I’ll do it,” she said, looking at him as menacingly as she could with the little courage
she could find within herself.
Alissa first took off her shoes, then her jeans, followed by her t-shirt, her socks, bra and
panties. She held back her tears as she slowly removed her clothing, knowing that she
would be stunned and stripped if she tried to run. She blushed as she felt herself naked in
front of the older man and the guards. She was sure they had enjoyed watching her strip
herself naked.
“Up on the table, please,” said the man, motioning to the table on the left side.
Alissa slowly lifted herself up onto the table and carefully lowered herself down into
position, placing her wrists, arms, knees and ankles in the applicable restraints, which
snapped shut the moment she touched them. Next came the remaining restraint that
circled her stomach and held her down to the surface of the table.
“So you think she’s fat, do you,” he said to Tracy, as he prodded Alissa’s side, stomach
and thighs with his finger, causing her to squirm and cry out, “I’ll admit she has some fat
on her but it just makes her wonderfully soft and a little jiggly. To a man like myself, this
is not fat but rather voluptuous.”
“Hey, don’t,” said Alissa, as he bent over, kissed her breast and gently bit her nipple,
“you pervert.”
“Call me whatever you like, young lady,” he said, “the fun is about to begin.”
Alissa watched in horror as the robotic arm with a large, lubricant-dripping dildo lowered
itself into place between her legs. She bit her lip as she felt the man’s fingers open her
genital lips and move the dildo slightly inside her. She clenched her fists and glexed her
toes as she felt the sensation of the dildo entering her.
On the other table, to Alissa’s right, Pamela started to stir. Within moments, she was
wide awake. She panicked as she felt the restraints on her arms and legs, and the cold
material of the dildo inside her. She tried with all her might to move her hips and
dislodge the intruder inside her most private parts. It was, understandably, useless.
“Please let us go,” she pleaded, as she saw the man standing beside her, “we haven’t done
anything to you.”
“No, you haven’t,” he said, as he gently stroked the soles of her feet causing her to
squirm, “but you are about to do something very special for me.”
“Like hell, I’m not doing anything for you,” she said, as he stroked her right breast with
his finger, pinched and then kissed and gently bit her nipple, “hey, don’t do that!”
“It is time to start the process of the sacrifice, the gift of laughing tears to God,” he said,
as he moved to the computer terminal, “to begin with, the dildo inside you will start
pumping gently in and out of you, becoming more intense by the minute, until you
climax. The robot will know when you climax and also if you resist, which will cause the
system to work that much harder to force you to orgasm.”
“Big deal,” said Alissa, “you didn’t have to strap us down to make us orgasm. We can do
that quite nicely on our own.”
“Ah, yes, I can well imagine,” he said, “but once you have climaxed and you are fully
aroused sexually, the robotics will start to tickle you. The system will continue until
forty-five minutes from the first stroke of the dildo inside you have passed. It will then
give you a fifteen minute rest, after which the cycle will repeat itself. By the time you are
finished, you will have completed ten cycles.”
“Oh, my God, you really are crazy,” cried Pamela.
“One more thing, ladies, is that we want to hear ten hours of continuous laughter,” he
said, “so one of your systems will start now and the other in thirty minutes. That way,
one of you will be laughing while the other is resting. I wonder who should be the first.”
“Aaah,” cried Alissa, as she felt the dildo force its way inside of her. It was big but she
was already wet from the anticipation and the sensation of the dildo barely inside her
waiting to start. She struggled against her restraints as the relentless pumping into her
vagina continued. She resisted the feelings of her building sexual arousal and excitement
with everything she had but, of course, no woman can resist the device for more than a
few minutes. The machine started pumping faster and faster. To her horror and dismay,
Alissa felt the orgasm coming closer and closer.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!,” she screamed, between labored breaths, as the climax
finally hit her after perhaps seven minutes, gritting her teeth, arching her back, and
clenching her fists, “Aaaaaaah!”
The robotic arms above the tickling table started to move, bringing soft brushes, like
artist’s paint brushes and Japanese calligraphy brushes, into place. Soft brushes began to
stroke her armpits, breasts, navel, sides, abdomen, thighs and knees. More brushes in
place on the soles of her feet began to move, too, and even more soft brushes moved into
place onto the tops of her feet. Alissa bit her lip and squeezed her eyes tightly shut,
determined to resist the tickling that she know was coming any moment.
“Aaaaaaahaaahaaahaaa, nohohohoo,” she screamed in laughter as the tickling began in
every ticklish spot on her body, “oh, my Gohohohod!”
“Another twenty minutes, Pamela,” said the man to the girl on the other table, “it will be
your turn. Do you think you’ll be more ticklish than Alissa?”
“Please don’t do this to us,” said Pamela, “I’ll do anything you want if you let us off
here.”
“I’m afraid, though, Pamela,” he said, “that this is what I want. I want to hear you both
screaming in forced laughter as the machine tears orgasms from your body and tickles
you to the very edge of insanity.”
“Pleeheeheese, you’re kihihilling meheehee,” screamed Alissa, her tears flowing down
her face and her dark blonde hair matting and sticking to her sweating skin as she rolled
her head from side to side. The tickling was so severe that she couldn’t even focus on
one part of her body or the other. She knew her breasts, armpits and navel, all of which
were terribly ticklish, were getting it beyond belief. Her abdomen, legs and feet, although
she could feel them, had more of a surreal feeling as though they were not really a part of
her and off in the distance somewhere but still firing agonizing sensations into her brain.
She was soon at the point where she couldn’t even form the thought of begging for the
tickling to stop anymore, the point he would call tickle hell.
“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no,” exclaimed Pamela, as she felt the dildo inside her force its
way farther and farther into her vagina. It felt huge. She thought it was going to push
itself all the way up to her stomach. But then it reversed itself and returned to its original
position. She tried desperately to move, but the waist restraint and the thigh restraints
above her knees held her pelvis and her genitals perfectly in position. Any resistance to
the mechanical lover ravaging her pussy was useless, completely futile. Even so, Pamela
was determined to fight it. But, as it happened, she climaxed a minute and a half sooner
than Alissa had done.
She watched in terror as the robotic arms above her began to move. First, there was only
a small tremor as the arms were charged with electricity and came to life. First to come
down was the single brushed arm to her navel and Pamela arched her back as she felt the
first sensations of the little soft brush on her skin. Next, two robotic arms lowered
themselves into place onto her breasts, with the soft bristles of their brushes coming to
rest directly on her blood-filled and very sensitive nipples. The rest followed, lowering
themselves into place at her armpits, sides, abdomen, thighs and feet.
“Oh, shihihihit,” she screamed at the man as she felt them start to move, taking her to his
favorite tickle hell just like Alissa, “I haaaate youhoohoo!”
“So, Tracy, what am I going to do with you,” he said, as he approached Tracy and tickled
her armpits and her ribs.
“Haven’t you done enough to me already,” she responded, as he lowered the windlass and
released her, “that tickling and whipping on my feet was terrible, and I’m really sorry for
the things I did.”
“Come,” he said, motioning her into the corridor, “I’ll show you something special that I
have for you.”
The two of them entered a room a short distance down the hallway that looked very much
like a hospital operating room. In the center of the room was a large stainless steel table
with heavy leather restraints in the corners for a girl’s wrists and ankles. Above the table
there were a number of mechanical arms and other machinery. Although Tracy wanted to
stop at the door and perhaps even try to run, she thought the better of it.
“Come,” he said, “sit on the edge of this table and I’ll tell you all about this room.”
“Please, no,” she said, as she held back from him when he tried to lift her onto the table.
“Don’t be scared,” he said, “I only want to show this to you.”
He gently lifted Tracy onto the edge of the table. She shuddered as she felt the cold
stainless steel of the table on her ass and the back of her thighs. Standing between her
legs, facing her, he held her in place as she sat on the edge of the table.
“Have you ever heard of the Ling-She,” he asked her.
“No, what’s that?”
“It is an ancient Chinese torture known as the death of a thousand cuts,” he explained, “in
which a woman would be spreadeagled, then carefully and slowly vivisected over many
hours. It was a very painful way to die.”
“Oh, my God,” she responded, “please don’t do that to me.”
“Here,” he said, “let me show you how I have updated this procedure.”
He lifted her legs and made Tracy lie down on the table. As she complained, and he
assured her that he was not going to hurt her, he fastened her wrists in the wrist cuffs and
her ankles in the ankle cuffs. Once again, she was helplessly strapped down. She tried to
pull her arms and legs free but it was to no avail. She wanted to cry and she started to
sweat. He pushed a switch on a control panel and the leather restraints, or at least the
chains to which they were attached, retracted and stretched her body to its full length,
perhaps a quarter inch short of hurting her. Metals lifts under her head, shoulder blades
and tailbone pushed up from the surface of the table and lifted her about eight inches
from its stainless metal surface. Stretched to the utmost, Tracy could not move.
“With the Ling-She, the torturer would make his cuts in a specific order,” the man
explained, running his finger from side to side across her left breast, “with the first two
hundred cuts alone being on the breasts, then on to the stomach and torso, then the arms
and legs, then the buttocks and lastly the feet. The final cut was always the one to the
throat that caused death.”
“Oh, God, that’s awful!” she told him.
“I have, as I said, updated the process,” he told her, “and these eight mechanical arms,
each equipped with a razor-sharp knife, will work in random order, controlled by a
computer, so that each cut will be in a different location and totally unexpected.
Moreover, because of its precision, this system can make three times as many cuts, a full
three thousand, before the girl dies. Of course, the girl gets two injections before the
system starts - a stimulant to keep her conscious and a coagulant to reduce the bleeding. I
wish I could turn it on for a moment to demonstrate it to you but once the system is
turned on it cannot be stopped.”
“Has a girl ever been killed with this machine,” asked Tracy.
“Yes, there have been several, perhaps two or three dozen,” he told her, “mainly
industrial spies and traitors to do with my business interests.”
“They must have screamed very loudly, though,” she said, “didn’t anybody hear them?”
“This room, like the others, is completely soundproof,” he said, “and, of course, we are
on a remote, private island. Even if the islanders and staff who work for me here knew
about it, they would think very carefully in the event their wives or daughters might be
brought in here.”
“This machine is presently waiting for its next victim,” he said, “who is on the island
now. As you probably realize, that next victim is you. The machine is already committed
for you and you are going to be on it tomorrow.”
“No, please, I didn’t do you that much harm!”
“There is an option for you,” he told her, “that will exchange the sharp knives in these
mechanical arms with stiff feathers. The blades will retract and specially processed
feathers will take their place. These will give you the exact same strokes as the
razor-sharp blades without cutting you. It is a very intense and somewhat ticklish form of
sexual arousal that will make your entire skin and, in fact, your entire body, one single,
massive erogenous zone, and arouse you as you could never even imagine before. It is
incredible agony but it will not kill you, or even damage you.”
“What do you want me to do,” she asked, warily.
“I will give you the opportunity to have sex with me tonight and if that sex is good
enough to convince me to let you live, the machine will make its strokes with stiff
feathers instead of razor-sharp knives. You’ll have to make it really exceptional sex,
though, because you’ll be screwing for your life.”
He bent over and kissed her on the lips. He then released the restraints on her wrists and
ankles. Next, he helped her back into the sitting position on the edge of the table. He
kissed her again, passionately, and Tracy couldn’t help but respond. The last thing she
wanted was to be strapped onto that machine for the death of a thousand cuts. She was
surprised that she actually found it exciting to kiss this man. She threw her arms around
his neck and kissed him passionately.
“Let’s go back to the other room,” he said, as he motioned Tracy down the hallway, “and
see how our friends are doing.”
Alissa was finished her round of tickling, either the first or the second one, and she lay on
the table panting as she tried to catch her breath. Pamela was screaming with
uncontrollable laughter as her tickling continued relentlessly. The man took a wet towel
and wiped the sweat and tears from Alissa’s face. He let her drink some water from a
bottle.
“Please let is stop,” said Alissa, “I can’t take anymore!”
“But, of course, you can,” he said, “you are scheduled for ten one-hour cycles and I’m
afraid you must complete them.”
“No, please,” she pleaded, as she watched him leave the room, accompanied by the small
blonde girl.
“It seems we have some time to pass,” the man said, as they walked along the corridor,
“is there anything you would like to do, Tracy?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “I can’t think of anything.”
“I could take you back into the tickling chamber you visited this morning,” he said, “and
strap you onto one of the other devices for some more tickling.”
“Noooo, please don’t,” she pleaded.
“Alright, then,” he said, “how about another room where I could put you up on your toes
or hang you upside down and whip you.”
“No, please don’t torture me anymore,” she pleaded.
“Oh, I have an idea,” he said, “how about we get some horses and ride around the island?
Do you know how to ride?”
“Yes, of course, I can ride,” she said.
“But not in that yellow silk dress, I’m sure,” he told her, “if you go into that room to the
right, you will find jeans, a shirt, socks, riding boots, and anything else you’ll need. You
can meet me outside that far door in ten minutes.”
Tracy changed into the clothes that were waiting for her in the room he had showed her.
Small, blonde and sexy, she looked adorable in her cowboy outfit, which even included a
hat. When she left the house, or villa to be more precise, the man was outside waiting for
her with two horses.
“Here, allow me,” he said, as he lifted her up onto one of the horses, lovingly holding her
as he did so, “this is probably a nice horse for you.”
“Thankyou,” she said, “where are we going.”
“Just for a ride around the estate and a little part of this island,” he said, looking her over,
“you know, it’s going to be such a pity to have that machine disect you. I hope you’ll be
able to change my mind about it.”
“Please don’t do that to me,” she pleaded, “I’m sorry for the way I treated you that time.”
“We shall see tomorrow, won’t we,” he told her, in all sincerity, a tear almost forming in
his eye, for he truly liked this girl.
“I have a horse and rugged clothes,” she said, “I could run for it right now.”
“Yes, you could,” he responded, as they looked out over the Pacific from the top of a
small cliff, “but there are a few things you should consider first.”
“Like what,” she asked.
“There is no transportation off this island,” he said, “for the planes are at an airstrip on
another island more than an hour away by boat. The waters around this island are
infested with sharks who would be more than happy to see a young girl in the water.”
“Oh, my God,” she said, “did anybody every try?”
“Yes, several did,” he told her, “but the collar you have has many different functions, one
of which is to send out the electrical signals of a wounded fish to which the sharks will
immediately respond. One girl was even having a monthly period when she tried to swim
to the island in the distance.”
“Did she make it,” asked Tracy.
“Of course, not,” he said, “she was bleeding into the water as she tried to swim. Sharks
can sense blood in the water in the very smallest trace amounts.”
“It might be faster, though, than the machine you have inside,” she pointed out, “and less
painful.”
“Perhaps,” he suggested, “but you still have a chance of avoiding the Ling-She tomorrow
- with the sharks, you won’t have any chance at all.”
Returning to the villa after a ride of several hours, local villagers had prepared a luau in
the gardens. The sun had started to fall over the horizon and torches had been lit. Conch
shells sounded out to call everyone. Tracy had a fabulous time eating, singing, even
dancing, as the evening wore on. She had changed back into a silk dress, a white one this
time, and she looked particularly beautiful wearing a fragrant yellow ginger lei and a
flower that one of the dancers had placed in her hair. She was a little tipsy, but not quite
drunk, from the fruity beverages they had given her. It was a magnificent time.
“The time has come to release the other girls,” said the man, “would you like to stay here
or do you want to come?”
“I’ll come,” said Tracy.
They went back into the special wing of the villa where the tickling chambers were
located and entered the room where Pamela and Alissa were strapped to the tickling
machines. Pamela looked toward the door as they entered.
“Please, no more,” she pleaded softly, still out of breath and clearly exhausted, “no
more!”
He went to the computer console and flipped a switch that released all of the restraints
holding the two girls to the tables. The various robotic arms had already retracted into
their places near the ceiling when the tenth one-hour cycle was completed. Even freed,
though, neither girl was able to get up from her table. The man placed his arms around
Pamela and helped her into a sitting position, turning her legs sideways off the table. He
did the same for Alissa.
“Come with us,” he told the two girls, “I’ll help you to walk.”
With Tracy’s help, he brought the two exhausted girls to another room nearby with a
large, Japanese-style bath. It had been filled with warm water fragranced by a variety of
flowers. While they seated the two girls on a wooden bench, he started to remove his
clothes indicating that Tracy should follow his lead. Soon, he was in the warm bath with
the three girls, and he was carefully washing Pamela’s hair and then bathing her body. He
then had Tracy hold Pamela, who now started to recover, as he did the same from Alissa,
who almost purred like a kitten as she felt his hands washing the sweat and tears away,
taking the soreness out of her body.
“I never want to go through that again,” said Alissa, as she started to recover, “Oh, my
God, please hold me!”
“We have a luau to go to,” he told her, as he held her gently for a minute or two, “you
need to have something to eat and drink.”
“But I’m too tired,” she purred, “I just want to go to bed.”
“And my pussy hurts,” said Pamela, “besides I am naked - I have nothing to wear.”
Before long, though, all three of the girls were wearing the white silk dresses, yellow
ginger leis and flowers in their hair. Pamela and Alissa did eat at the luau, under threat of
more tickling, and drank more than a few maitais. Tracy also had a few more maitais, or
some other fruity drinks, she didn’t know for sure.
After the luau, the four of them returned to the villa at about ten o’clock. Pamela and
Alissa were the first into their rooms, accompanied by the older man and Tracy. The man
made sure each of the girls was safely in her bed, since they had both been drinking and
had endured ten hours of tickling torture and forced orgasms earlier in the day. They fell
asleep almost immediately.
“Now we have something else to take care of,” cajoled the now somewhat tipsy Tracy,
throwing her arms around his neck, “will it be my place or yours?”
“How much did you drink,” he asked, as he escorted her into his room, almost carrying
her.”
“I don’t even know,” she said, crawling onto his bed, “but not nearly enough if I am going
to die tomorrow.”
“Come on, let’s tango,” she said, as she took the flower from her hair and put its stem
between her teeth.
She threw the flower aside, along with the yellow ginger lei, and lifted the white silk
dress over her head. She sat on her knees, her butt down on her heels, in the middle of
the big bed.
“Come here,” she purred, “let me fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before and
never will be again. I don’t want to be disected tomorrow!”
When he came onto the bed, Tracy, the little blonde, thirty-two year old flight attendant,
attacked him like a woman possessed. And possessed she was, by alcohol, by sexual
arousal and by passion. Four times she forced herself upon him. She kissed him more
passionately, held him tighter and screwed him harder than she had ever done with any
man before. Finally exhausted, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Little Tracy, drunk
or not, had done her best.
“Eat your breakfast,” he told Tracy, “nobody should be killed with an empty stomach.”
“Are you still going to kill me,” she asked softly, almost surprised by the idea.
“You will not know until the machine and its robotics start their work,” he said, “and
whatever they will do at that point cannot be stopped.”
“Why don’t you tell me,” she asked, “so I can at least be a little prepared.”
“Perhaps that’s part of your punishment,” he pointed out.
“You know, don’t you,” she said, “that I love you?”
“Yes, I think so,” he responded, “but I don’t know yet if I love you - I mean, really love
you.”
“When will you know,” she asked.
“I think when you are on that machine, naked, stretched and helpless,” he told her, “and I
have to push the button, that will be the time I will know, the time when my heart tells me
what to do.”
When they entered the operating chamber, with its terrible machinery, Pamela and Alissa
were already there, strapped into chairs by their wrists, waist and ankles, to watch the
activity that was about to take place. Tracy looked pale and scared but she walked in on
her own.
“Do you want a sedative, Tracy, before we begin,” he asked.
“No, I’m okay,” she told him, as she walked to the stainless steel table, “help me up.”
“You know I love you,” Tracy said softly into his ear as he lifted her onto the table.
He lifted her dress over her head and removed it, but left the collar in place. She laid
herself down in position and he carefully applied the leather wrist and ankle restraints.
“How do you feel,” he asked her.
“I’m so scared,” she said, “can’t you see my body shaking with fear. If this is what you
want, though, I can’t stop you.”
He moved to the computer console and pushed several switches while Pamela and Alissa
watched in horror. Tracy lay on the cold stainless steel table, naked and helpless,
quivering in fear and anticipation. Suddenly, she felt the restraints begin to stretch her
and the lifting blocks pushing up under her spine between her shoulder blades, under her
lower back just above her tail bone and under her head. She watched in terror as the
robotic arms above her quivered, coming to life, and then started to move toward her.
She wondered where the first cut with a razor-sharp knife would come.
Then, she felt it, on her left thigh. She felt it as it approached, as it touched her skin and
as it moved over her thigh. She could feel the incision but it didn’t hurt. Another robotic
arm came toward her and brought its blade onto her belly. It was so surreal to her that she
could see the arm coming, touching her skin, cutting and then not hurting. A third cut
was made into the top of her right foot. She was surprised that it tickled more than
anything - it didn’t hurt. The next one came to the top portion of her left breast. This was
the first time she could actually see the blade strike and cut over her skin. To her
surprise, though, the razor-sharp cutting blade had retracted and a stiff feather had taken
its place. Tracy wet herself, spraying her water all over the stainless steel table between
her legs. The man had decided to spare her life.
Shortly after Tracy’s Ling-She had started, the man had released the other two girls and
taken them out of the room, for a tour of the island and a picnic on the beach. He
explained to them that they would all be taken home during the night, they would wake
up in their own beds and they would be well paid for their weekend on the island.
When he turned to Tracy, about four hours later, she had endured over nine hundred
strokes of the feathers. These were large feathers from which the soft outer edges had
been removed and the inner portions had been stiffened with a resin glue. They felt like
knives on her skin but they did not cut. Instead, they caused the most erotic, ticklish
sensations imaginable. Tracy’s face was soaked with tears, her skin was sweaty from
strain and fear, her nipples were stiff and gorged with blood, and she was soaking wet
inside from the most intense sexual arousal.
The man released her and carried her back to the Japanese bath in another room. Gently
he washed her hair and her body, massaging her softly as he soaped her and rinsed her.
Suddenly, unable to control herself, she climbed up onto his lap, throwing him back
unexpectedly, and forced herself upon him again. Last night’s sex was to save her life,
but today it was absolute, wild animal lust.
“Oh, my God, my God, my God,” she cried as she came in a very intense orgasm, holding
him tightly, “I love you!”
