Jessica the Ticklee’s Cultist Capture (FM/F) (Patreon)

Jessica the Ticklee, designed and owned by DesperateLaughter

Blurry shapes shifted behind a veil of groggy ache. Jessica's eyes squinted before they blinked open, wincing through a pulsing that resonated through her temples. In the moments of waking, her body relived memories of hangovers from late mornings after parties and ‘night out's with her friends. She raised her hand to rub at her eyes. Her arms moved just as sore and sluggish as the world swirled around her. As she pushed herself up, the slow movements and sudden change in angle were not lost on her head’s aching disposition. Jessica groaned and winced, keeping her eyes shut behind the pinching tips of her fingers.

“Agh, wh-what the hell…?” Jessica said. Reality seeped into her mind in fragments. The spinning environment around her began to focus, painting a picture of one dreadfully unfamiliar. Her eyes squinted open to a room that was not her own. The walls were deep red brick, the room uncannily cubic. She saw little in terms of decoration or utilities, a room drained of any resemblance of hospitality. Her mind began to reach for faded memories of the evening prior to help answer why she would be waking up in a room so strange. Jessica’s initial impulse was to rationalize by assuming she had spent a fun, if cloudily indulgent, night out, but as she found not even faded images to support the idea, her heart began to race.

“What the fuck?” Jessica muttered. She pushed herself upright atop a barren cot, one of the only other things in the room besides herself. It was just a mattress sitting on a wire frame, stained with dried splotches of uneasy discoloration. She pushed back her cherry chestnut hair and began frantically studying what she could notice. Her body was cloaked in revealing articles that she had never worn before. An old, stained white tank top clung tightly to her chest. Her bra had been removed and the shirt itself was torn just below her breasts, exposing her tanned, slender belly. A pair of black, lace panties kept her groin area covered. She questioned whether or not they were hers, but shook off the inquiry in the face of larger, immediate concerns.

“Wh… where am I?” Jessica asked, panting loudly. She ran her hands over her arms and legs. Her body was bare except for the two pieces of clothing. She ached conducively to a rough sleep, but felt no other pains across her limbs. No open wounds, no bruising, nothing. Jessica inspected her womanhood for any soreness of rough activity. Nothing. Her relief came short-lived on the puff of a sigh.

Jessica swung her legs off of the bed and sat for a moment. She was free and unbound, her gratitude rising with only more questions. If she was drugged and kidnapped, whoever was behind it seemed oddly content with her being unharmed and free-roaming. Jessica sat on the edge of the cot, still desperately pulling at answers from her memories, but found nothing but frustration and fog. She recalled her last memories. Jessica remembered being at work, finishing her previous modeling job. She was slated for a shoot with a woman not that much older than her mother. Having been working as a professional for tickle videos, pictures, and sessions, wearing the role of ‘ticklee’ with pride and enthusiasm, Jessica had gotten to meet many interesting people over the prior few months. Her last memories were finishing the shoot and heading out to her car, looking forward to a nice, warm shower and maybe a glass of wine. After that, Jessica found herself struggling to recall what would have led to her waking up in such a dismal, eerie predicament.

“Hello?!” Jessica called out, quickly finding the room’s only door. “Anyone?” She quickly rose and walked up to it. The door was iron and solid. She grabbed the handle and began to tug. She groaned at finding it locked, as she had easily suspected. Jessica grunted as she tugged harder and harder against the handle, but the door barely rattled at her efforts. She banged her palm against the cold, metal surface. “Hey! Let me out of here!” The banging echoed around the room, yet yielded no other noises that she could hear from the other side. She questioned if anyone was listening to her cries, if anyone around could hear or possibly help her. At the same time, she contemplated having safety in silence, that whoever brought her to such a place may come back and hurt her if they knew she was creating such a disturbance. Jessica steadied her breath and opted for the opportunity to move around and survey the room freely.

The room itself was about the size of a modest bedroom, only slightly bigger than her own, yet lacked many of the amenities to make it even a fraction as appealing. Beside the bed and the door, the only other thing she could find was a small nightstand positioned in the far corner of the room. Before going to it, Jessica looked around for her own items. She searched all over for her clothes, her purse, and especially her phone. She figured that whoever took her would be smart enough to not leave her phone, but was still slightly surprised at finding nothing else of hers in the room.

“Shit,” Jessica muttered. She sighed once more and returned to looking around the room. A long lightbulb above was her only source of light, no window or even a sliver of natural light anywhere. The light itself had no switch that she could see, so that too appeared to be beyond her control. The only other thing to note in the room was the nightstand. She walked up to it and began to inspect. It was sturdy wood reinforced with metal brackets around the corners and edges. Its legs appeared to have been bolted to the floor to keep it in place. It had nothing on top with only a drawer and a small cupboard underneath. Jessica tried both to find them locked, as she had come to expect.

“Of course…” Jessica said. She continues to rummage around the nightstand, focusing her attention on getting inside anyway she could. She looked around the whole room for kays, anything small and metal that may be hiding in the cracks in the floor or strewn about the edges by the walls. She looked especially hard around the bed, the iron door, and the nightstand itself. After several minutes of desperate searching, a small metal sheen caught her eye as she looked underneath the nightstand itself. After having previously scanned the floor under the nightstand, she failed to notice the key taped to the bottom. Jessica reached underneath, wedging her forearm into the shallow slot, and with noticeable challenge pulled the key out.

“There!” Jessica brushed the dirt off of her arm and raced to the door. She knew she was being hopeful at trying the key on the door itself, only to be met with the expectation of it not working. Jessica sighed. “Worth a shot.” She looked down at the key and walked back up to the nightstand. The key itself was small and bronze, old like one she would find in the attic of her grandparents, the kind of key that would either go to something of great importance or to something that had long since been forgotten. She came back up to the nightstand and bent down to try the door to the cabinet under the drawer. She pushed the key inside and twisted, barely budging the key inside the lock. Jessica grumbled, pulling the key out and trying again on the drawer portion. She inserted the key and turned, able to twist it fully to a satisfying click.

“Ugh, thank God,” Jessica said. She laid the key on the top of the nightstand and opened the drawer. Inside, she found only a single book. The binding was leather and deep brown, weathered from time and usage. The edges of the pages were fine and staggered, ripped in several places. The whole thing was light in her hand as she lifted it from the drawer. The front and back covers were rough against her fingertips. Jessica brought the book over to the cot and sat down. She handled it carefully, even as she parted the covers to the opening page. Her eyes fell upon faded words scrawled against pages stained with light maroon splotches. She studied the words closely as she waited for whatever the fates had looming for her on the other side of the iron door.

‘Day 1,

‘I’m not sure what day it is, exactly, only that this is the first day after having been given the diary. Father and Mother left it with me as a present, to document the first days of my new life, a life dedicated to the glory of Gargalius.’

“Gar… galius?” Jessica sounded out. She continued to read, squinting at several of the words written in short, condensed cursive.

‘I was blind for my entire life. That’s only recently been made clear to me. For twenty two years, I stumbled through this world under the illusion of meaning, of love, of purpose. The evils of the world are so clever and organized to have us all believe these lies. I pity all those that continue to shamble without meaning, but can only hope that, one day, the entire world can be as enlightened as I had been. If I can help only one other person realize their life’s true purpose, to serve the needs and wishes of the almighty Gargalius (forgive me for writing your name so freely, my lord), then I know I can surrender to the Relinquish happily.

‘Accept my surrender, my lord, as I accept the punishment for my years of wandering from your light.

‘Acolyte Miranda’

Jessica winced at the words written on the opening page before her. Her stomach began to churn. Even In her dire and mysterious situation, a dreadful eeriness came over contact with the book in her hands. As much as she pined for answers, she sat frozen, her eyes scanning over the words as if they would change before her, as if she had read something incorrectly. After several more reads, she dared to turn the page.

‘Day 5,

‘Mother and Father have been so attentive, so much so that I have had little energy left to do many of my other tasks. Though I try to maintain composure for the sake of my duties, both to Mother and Father, but also to the temple, my main contribution has since been the surrender. Such is true of most reborn souls, as explained to me by Mother and Father. The surrender allows me to prove my loyalty to Lord Gargalius and to help free my memory of the unfaithful ages. Forgive me, Lord Gargalius, but I must be honest that I can still remember the foul deviants who convinced me of parentage. Their faces and names are still etched into my mind from the twenty two years that I spent under their false authority. However, Lord Gargalius, I am willing to offer every part of me in the quest to forget all aspects of that false life, even if I should spend the next twenty two years in constant surrender. I beg to be worthy of the Relinquish, my lord! I await the day where you accept this meager mortal for your plan, Lord Gargalius.

‘Faithfully and eternally

‘Acolyte Miranda’

Jessica stared down at the page with still more questions than answers. She flipped ahead in the book, scanning over the next few pages with passive curiosity. She read over passages that were largely the same, vague and sycophantic, unnerving but nothing out of the normal for the character before her. Several pages had been torn out of the book all together, going from days in the 20s and 30s to well over a hundred and even two. Jessica skipped ahead until one page caught her eye, a new section with text in different handwriting.

‘I don’t know if I’m going to get out of here.

‘Hell, I don’t know if anyone is ever going to read this. I just found this in the room with the bed. It had already been written in with some weird shit, I don’t know. I’ve been freaking out for about an hour now, trying to find a way out of here. I’m really trying not to think that there might not be a way out, but I’m running out of options. I’m at least glad I was given a pencil, writing this is already helping to calm me down a little. At least, if I die here, maybe I’ll be able to get my story out.

‘I don’t know what’s going on. I just woke up in this shitty little room. Whoever put me here left me almost no clothes and took everything else I had on me. I don’t remember what happened, how I got here, or who would even want to put me here. No one’s come by yet. I don’t know what to think, I’m so scared. If you’re reading this, my name is Claire Supton. I’m twenty three, I live at Golden Crest Drive, Concord New Hampshire, apartment 6203. I’m a student at Franklin Pierce. My boyfriend’s name is David Manchester. We live together with two cats, Muffy and Jitters, and a Jack Russel named Caramel. Please someone get me out of here. I don’t know what’s going to happen and I’m so scared. I just want to see my family again. I want them all to know that I love them and that they all mean so much to me. Please don’t let me die here.’

The page was wrinkled with spots of dried moisture. Dread for Claire’s desperate response seeped into Jessica’s psyche. She too battled the same thoughts and impending hopelessness. A cold, icy pit gnawed within her chest. With curiosity and hesitation, Jessica turned to the next page.

‘Holy shit, I can’t believe these freaks! They keep talking about this… Gargamel thing. I think it’s a cult or something. I swear, I didn’t sign up for this. I still don’t know how the hell I got here or where even I am. I just want to go home.’

Jessica felt the words resonate through her. Claire’s desperation and distraught echoed through her frantic handwriting, making sure that she could document what all happened, along with her feelings on the situation.

‘I still can’t believe what they did. They fucking tickled me.’

Jessica’s eyes widened, caught off-guard at the word. The allure of those letters arranged together in that exact way had always boasted an alluring spark of intrigue ever since she was a little girl. Jessica tilted her head and continued to read carefully, hoping to know more about Claire’s tickling.

‘These freaks, referring to themselves as Mother and Father. I still haven’t gotten real names yet, so that’s useless. But they tickled me. They came into the room, I don’t exactly know when. I don’t have a clock where I am. But they came in with cattle prods. I begged them to let me go and even tried to make a break for the door, but all I remember next was a sharp pain and waking up again.

‘When I did, I was in a different room all together. It was like a torture chamber, like from medieval dungeons or something. It was all dark and warm. I remember I was still in the same clothes they left me in. They had me on this hard, stone table, it hurt so much. I hate that I have to go back over this, but I’m afraid that if I don’t write it down, I’ll either forget it or what they’re doing won’t be found out. They had me spread out on this table in front of this giant statue or something, I don’t know. These freaks kept talking about Gilgamesh or something and demanding my loyalty. I just kept screaming, but after a while, one of them shoved a rag in my mouth and strapped it to my head. They just kept going on and on about wanting my obedience and that, one day, I’ll see the light, or some shit.

‘And then they started. I would have thought that they would cut me open or rape me or something, but instead they began to tickle me. I’ve always been really, super ticklish. I guess I know now that, even when I’m screaming and crying for my life, I’m still just as ticklish as I’ve always been. They started with these strange feathers, focusing on my stomach area. I didn’t really know how ticklish I would still be in the moment, but holy shit was it so much right away! It had been so long since I’ve been tickled and I didn’t really know if I would still be as ticklish as I was when I was little, but all that became terribly clear right away. I was screaming with laughter into the gag. I was trying so hard to pull away or get free, but these freaks had my arms and legs spread out by these stocks or cuffs or something, I don’t know.

‘Before long, or what felt like an eternity, one lifted my top and began feathering my chest while the other tickled my feet. It was absolute hell! All the while, they kept talking about me giving in and surrendering. I had no idea what they were talking about at first, but it wasn’t long before I was so desperate to ask just so I could give them what they wanted. But they just kept tickling. They used the feathers, their fingers, these little brush things. I don’t know, it lasted for what felt like hours! I was screaming and crying and laughing uncontrollably. I couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it. I wish they had bled me out or something, at least then it would have been over quicker. But no, these fucking freaks just kept tickling me until eventually I passed out. The next thing I remembered was waking back up in the room again, not knowing what all had happened, but still remembering the torture and feeling the soreness in my stomach and jaw from laughing so much. I don’t know if that’s going to become a regular thing, but I don’t know how much more of that I can take.’

With the book in hand, Jessica peered down at the words, entranced by the tale weaved across the pages. Her heart pounded with conflicted thrill, her hands sweating slightly as she held the book against her lap.

“Tickling?” Jessica muttered. She had long since been no stranger to the act, able to go for sessions lasting over an hour. Though as she pondered the nature of her capture, she considered that whatever her kidnappers had in store for her might be far more than she could take, or had ever taken before. Suddenly, she put herself in Claire’s position. Able to vaguely anticipate what may happen, Jessica prepared herself mentally for what may come. She turned to the next page to continue studying the story of Claire’s capture.

‘I don’t know how long it's been. Days, certainly, but maybe weeks or even months. They don’t let me see the outside or know what time it is. I’ve been so scared of what everyone on the outside must be feeling, if they even care or are still looking for me. Maybe they think I’m dead by now, I don’t know. I wish I could just send a letter or something. Even if Mother and Father read it to make sure I’m not sending anything I shouldn’t, I just want my family to know that I’m still out there.

‘They’ve been taking care of me. Not great, of course, but food every day (I assume every day). I don’t really go hungry much. Maybe I’ve even lost a few pounds. They’ve been showing me around the house. I can’t go anywhere without one of them watching me, and they still carry the stun rods, though I feel them much less now. They’ve been having me re-learn how to clean, learning how to clean in their way, the ‘right’ way. It’s mostly sweeping and using rags to dust and wipe down surfaces. I have to fetch water in pails like it’s the fucking 1600s or something, but it’s something to do. It probably sounds worse than it is, as I’m sure do Mother and Father.

‘It was all scary at first, but I can’t say there’s anything really terrible about Mother and Father. Outside the shocks, which at this point, I can kind of see coming. When I ‘behave’, I guess, they’re sweet, relatively speaking, and really seem to care. Several times a day, they have me do what they call ‘surrendering’ or ‘surrender’, whichever is the term. This is when they take me to the temple and tickle me. It’s gotten easier to endure, though I’m still just as ticklish as I was when it started. Some sessions last for hours, other times they feed me from the altar and keep me there for what feels like days. It’s still pretty bad, my voice is usually shot the next day from laughing so much, but having gotten somewhat used to it, I can’t say it’s completely awful. I mean, it could be worse, right?

‘I just have to endure a little longer while I wait to be found. If a little tickling and some chores are what I have to put up with, then I’m fine with it.’

Jessica considered the coincidence of her being taken by some strange, cultist ticklers after having established a career as a professional, self-proclaimed ‘ticklee’, only to conclude there being no coincidence at all. She imagined that perhaps the kidnappers had looked her up and thought that she would be another good fit for their cause. Regardless, Jessica knew that she had to find a way out, grateful for the insight with Claire’s documentation.

“Fucking hell,” Jessica groaned. She turned the page to find more pages missing from the book. Their edges had been ripped from the spine, facing Jessica with only blank pages until the back cover. Jessica sighed. She reached up to rub her head, struggling to process everything that had happened to her in conjecture with all that she had read.

As she stared down at the final empty page, Jessica’s eyes caught a glimpse of some odd scratches in the interior of the back cover. It appeared to be a drawing, one that could easily be passed by as random scratches, but also seemed oddly intentional. From what Jessica could identify, the drawing was done with many light scratches, likely that of a fingernail. The image appeared to be that of a door, a tall standing rectangle with a little dot for the handle. Next to it was a sideways rectangle, in which Jessica could conclude through a squinted stare the number ‘3’ next to an arrow pointed up and the number ‘2’ next to another pointed right.

Jessica turned to the door. She inspected the bricks along the edges and quickly found one in the area with more shadow in the cracks than the others. She set the book down on the bed and rushed to the brick, three up from the floor and two from the door. She nudged it to find it loose and proceeded to insert her nails into the cracks to try and pull it out. The brick was wedged in pretty far, but after several minutes of picking at the edges of the block, she was finally able to weasel it out far enough to give it a stable pull. Setting the brick on the floor, she looked inside the dark hole left over. A small, silvery glimmer shined back at her. Jessica reached inside and pulled out another key, one much larger and polished than the last. She wasted no time in shooting up from the floor and trying the key on the iron door. She gave the device a hearty turn, a hearty, metallic click sending a relieved vibration through her nerves.

“Yes!” Jessica said in a loud hush. She steadily opened the door, peeking through the crack to make sure that she was still alone. Seeing nothing immediately alarming, Jessica placed the key back into the empty slot and replaced the brick in front of it, just in case. The young woman ventured out of the lone room, excited to be free, but terrified of what she may find. Jessica carefully, and as quietly as she could manage, closed the door behind her to best avoid suspicion.

The outside hallway was dark, but not without enough light to just barely see. Jessica stayed by a wall with her hand feeling along the bricks as she made her way down the dim corridor. There, she found other iron doors, all closed and locked along her path. She kept a keen eye out for any sign of exit or just a glimmer of outside in general. She reserved her breathing and stepped carefully against the grainy, stone floor to avoid excess sounds. She listened out for anything that may hint of escape or dangerous presences. Making her way down the hallway, she found little of both, hearing not so much as additional footsteps. She imagined that this would bring her comfort, not hearing her captors around her, but there was only more unease.

Jessica did her best to look out for anything that may create light. Even if it were to alert her captors, she figured that knowing where they are would be worth the risk rather than continuing to stumble in the dark. She came across an open room, filled with trinkets and old supplies, what looked to be a storage shed of sorts. Jessica shivered at the idea of rats and spiders moving about, but pushed through to try and find anything that might help her find her way. Her hands trembled as they scanned over shelves of dusty cans and old tools covered in webbing. She clamped her mouth shut to still her breathing while her teeth chattered restlessly. The air smelled as it tasted, damp and rotting.

With all of Jessica’s senses on high alert for anything noticeably different in the area, she jumped at a small tap against her cheek. Jessica gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth. She reached out for whatever it was to find a string dangling down, accented with a small knot at the end. She looked up, catching the slight sheen of a lightbulb. She pulled the string, activating a soft humming while the bulb began to slowly illuminate the room. Jessica recoiled at the sudden, building brightness, rubbing her eyes as she turned away. She sighed and quickly looked around. She listened for anything that may have been alarmed by the light, pausing to know how and through where she should react.

Another moment of stillness passed before Jessica started again, surveying the room of dusty knick knacks and rusted farm equipment. She found quite a few tools to use as potential weapons, all shrouded with dust and cobwebs. Jessica remained mindful as to where they were as she continued her search. She stepped carefully around the room. The floor was dirty and dusty, leaving uneasy elements against her sensitive feet. Jessica steadied her breath as she looked around for anything more useful to her situation, keeping her eyes open specifically for signs of a way out. The room had no windows, only two perpendicular hallways in and out. She stayed quiet as she listened for additional activity, breathing calmly every moment she heard nothing.

As Jessica surveyed the room, she came upon a shelf just as rusted and weathered as all the others. Where she had been finding tools, farm equipment, and antique trinkets, she quickly came across something else that stood out. A sheet of paper that, upon closer inspection, appeared to have been ripped out of a book. As she looked closer, she saw little dust atop the page and more accumulated beneath it. Jessica took it in her fingers. The page was the same as those found in the diary, with similar handwriting to Claire’s. Jessica brought the page into the center of the room, just beneath the lightbulb, and started to read.

‘I still haven’t gotten used to their smiles. I really should be more careful with these pages. I’m pretty sure they’ve been reading this, but I don’t know if they can do anything worse to me than they already have been. But Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t get used to Mother and Father. There’s just always something off with them. Nothing ever bothers them, even when they pull out the prod. They just… smile. They smile when they punish me, they smile when they tickle me, they never stop. Honestly, this shit would be halfway bearable if they would just show some resemblance of actual humanity, but all this is strange as fuck as it is.

‘Besides that though, the stay has been better. ‘The stay’, like it’s a fucking vacation or something, and ‘better’ is still a loose term… but, like, the tickling is a lot, but at least they let me sleep when they’re done. Despite being scared out of my mind, I don’t know if I’ve ever slept this good. I’ve been finding it easier to comply with what they want. Don’t get me wrong, they’re freaks. This who situation is fucked up and the second I can find a way out of here, I’m taking off. But, like… it’s easier, now that I know relatively what’s expected. Chores, tickling, and lots of smiles. My jaw hurts just as much as my stomach after every day, but I’m a tough girl. I’ll get through it. And then I’m publishing the hell out of this diary and making a fucking fortune. Just gotta keep looking on the bright side.’

Jessica turned the page over to see nothing else written. She narrowed her brow at seeing the page having been torn from the diary, left like breadcrumbs. Jessica wanted to hold onto it, but had nowhere to keep it on her person. She read the page several more times over before setting it back down where she found it. There was nothing to be said about the fate of Claire in contrast to her own, but the diary still being around twisted a knot of dread in Jessica’s gut. Whatever happened to Claire or any of the other past girls, Jessica became overcome with a rush of responsibility to not only escape to bring her kidnappers to justice, but also so she can tell their stories too, whatever may have happened to them. A drive for freedom pushed Jessica forward. She turned and faced the adjacent hallway, steadying her nerves.

The small storage room faded into the darkness behind her as Jessica pressed onward. A chill raced across her skin, reminding her how bare and vulnerable she was in such a strange, offsetting place. She pressed one hand against the wall as she navigated dark corridors and held one out in front of her to feel around. She kept her footsteps and breathing quiet to listen out for any and all activity happening around her. Even with being alienated in an eerie abode with the threat of her kidnappers potentially lurking around every corner, Jessica forced her mind to stay calm and positive. With this mindset, coupled with hearing and feeling out her surroundings, Jessica remained confident that she was alone and relatively safe, at least in the passing moments.

Jessica came to another small room. It presented the same dark interior and musky scent as the storage room had, only with a small light that caught Jessica’s eye. She followed it to a set of stairs that led upward. At the top of the stairs, the light shone around the outline of a wooden door. She listened closely still, wary about possibly alerting her kidnappers on the other side. She heard nothing and figured that charging in and taking them by surprise would be better than them doing the same to her. She carefully inched up the stairs. Taking each step one at a time, her feet felt each slightly sandy step before putting down her full weight. Gradually, she rose to the top, just outside of the door. Jessica put her ear to the wood, prepared to attack anything or anyone that may come through. Still, she heard nothing and bravely reached for the handle.

With a soft creak, Jessica pushed the door open just far enough to squeeze through. After which, she stopped and assessed whether or not she had alerted anyone listening. She did so with every noise she happened to make. Again, with nothing and no one lurking by, Jessica shut the door behind her. She found herself inside what appeared to be a pantry of sorts. Canned and boxed food sat up on shelves all around her. The area was only apparent on her left and right sides as pushing forward brought Jessica into a large, elaborate kitchen. It was lit by minimal emergency lights and contained no one. Jessica even stopped and listened again, hearing nothing happening close by. The kitchen itself was rustic with mostly stone appliances. Still, everything was ornate and almost beautiful, much cleaner than the rooms she had previously ventured through. Jessica gave the kitchen little more consideration as she maintained her focus on simply finding a way out.

Into the next room, Jessica stumbled upon a relatively large chamber, accentuated by a long, sturdy table stretching the center of it. One look made it clear that she had found the home’s dining room. The table itself was decorated with an elegant and shimmering runner. The table was elaborated with glasses and china that bore few signs of stagnation, as if the table had been set recently. Two bouquets sat in the center toward both ends of the long, rectangular beast, with a lush candle set boasted in the perfect middle, a flame lightly dancing against the shifting air. Jessica paused to collect her senses. A clean, if aged scent brushed her nose. Her eyes glanced to and from the shadowy corners of the dimly lit room, her mind tormenting her with ghoulish expectations. There was no sound but her own making, and for the first time since leaving her room, she longed to hear something, anything, to confirm her suspicions.

Against the better judgment to keep looking for an exit, Jessica found herself stopped by the sight of another piece of paper, laying innocuously atop the polished mahogany table. She came forward and reached out, pinching it in her fingers. As with the last that she found, it too had been ripped from the diary, harboring the lingering words of Claire.

‘These freaks aren’t alone. I had thought that it was just Mother and Father (for lack of any other name they go by; again, not my actual mother and father) that were a part of this weird, creepy cult. But it’s not and last night, I had met the others.

‘It was a whole ordeal, what they put me through. They made me spend the day cleaning and lotioning myself. Just myself. I must have spent over an hour just getting sprayed down with the hottest water you could imagine. It was hell, but it was only the beginning. After all that, Mother was in charge of making me look pretty. She did my hair and gave me a new dress to wear. Not my taste, either of them, but it was nice compared to what I had been going through. Father stood by with the prod, but I get it. After a while, I was perfectly fine just letting them pamper me a bit. Plus I was still too tired to fight back.

‘They gave me these strange lotions to put on my body. I did and they helped calm me down a bit. They just felt strangely nice, I’ll have to look into what those were after I’m finally out of here. And then, later in the evening, I assume, I was brought upstairs and into the dining room. I had only been upstairs a few times, usually for chores. Mostly they just kept me in the cellars for the tortures and whatnot. But I was brought up into the dining room, relatively freely except for Mother and Father being by my side, still carrying prods. God I hate those things, but I’m learning how to avoid them at least.

‘They had me lie down on the dining room table. I had noticed that it wasn’t set and remembered fearing that I was about to be torn into like meat, but Mother assured me that wouldn’t happen. Sure, I had no reason to trust her, but I just kinda went with it. But, like they do to me in the dungeon, they stretched out my arms and legs to each of the corners of the table. The thing was big enough to leave me flat as I stretched myself out. I did so to avoid the prod again and Father tied my arms and legs out. Immediately, I knew what would happen, and admittedly I was more okay with that than the alternative of being eaten, but I didn’t know what would happen next.

‘Mother laid a blindfold over my eyes as Father opened the doors. What I remember next was more voices. More people coming in. I hated it, but my mind immediately imagined them being potential saviors, that any one of these people, who I couldn’t see, would get me out of this hell hole. It was so embarrassing. I started to ask for help, to show that I wasn’t a part of some show or something. But Father was quick to shove a ball in my mouth. I know it was him because he always handles the ball so roughly. I remember crying. You know, begging into the gag. But what scared me most of all wasn’t that no one was helping, it was no one was commenting on the fucking tied up girl in the middle of the room! They just went on with their fucking conversations on politics and business and shit, like I was completely invisable! Like this was completely normal for them! I screamed. Only once though. I screamed and the prod jammed into my side. I knew what it meant and did all I could to keep from openly sobbing.

‘They surrounded me. I don’t know how many exactly, but they all fell quiet after a while and just stood around the table where I was. Mother gave a little speech, thanking them all for coming and, of course, to fucking Gargalius. I remember she thanked him for the meal laid out before them. They all did. They all knew this weird god guy and apparently believed in him the way Mother and Father did. It was so strange, they all sounded so normal. But after, the ‘meal’ began.

‘All I remember was an onslaught of tickles. It all happened so fast. Dozens of hands were on top of me, touching and tickling me all over. I couldn’t think, I could barely breathe. All I could do was laugh! I pulled and tried my best to get away, but they held me down. Their hands and fingers all covering me and scratching all over, it was absolute hell! They went after my armpits and belly the most, but some even pinched down my thighs and more tortured my feet. My body exploded with tickles! I was screaming and thrashing, but they were just tickling more and more. I could hear them commenting on my ticklishness, finally acknowledging that I was even in the room with them. They laughed and teased and made passive remarks about wanting to take me home with them. It was so embarrassing!’

“Oh wow,” Jessica said. The heat of the flames licked at her neck as she read. A warmth resonated through her senses, reading the detailed recount of another girl’s ticklish torment. As fearful as she was for her own circumstances, a slight blush came to her cheeks as she focused her mind on what Claire’s experience must have been like.

‘The tickles went on for what felt like hours! I don’t even remember large sections of it, I may have even blacked out a few times. It was so hard to tell being unable to fucking see. I just remember being surrounded by tickles, convinced that the torment might actually last forever, that that would be what life would actually be like. It was made worse still when several of the guests pulled out tools. Shit like brushes against my feet were almost as bad as feathers and long nails poking around my belly button. I was screaming. I could barely hear their own laughter over my own voice, but it was there. It just kept coming. And I just kept laughing and laughing until later when I woke up in bed. Not my bed, of course, but the bed they gave me. I don’t know what happened in between. One minute, I was being tickle tortured to hell and back, and the next I was waking up.

‘It’s almost a relief, in that way. I’ve spent many nights here wishing to just black out and wake up in bed, even if that means still being here. It was rough, but could have been worse, and Father and Mother were adamant afterward about thanking me for being a ‘good girl’, which I could have hated more than I did.’

The page ended there. Jessica reached up to wipe off her brow, glancing back down at the table before her. It appeared strangely vacant and unlike anything she would find a ticklish girl attached to. She pictured the laughter, the hysteria, the thrashing and crying out that she had gotten used to in her own job. She wondered what Mother and Father’s extents for mercy would actually be, whether or not they subscribed to senseable limits or if Claire’s accounts of torment were true to the word. Jessica imagined what being tickled to such extents would feel like. She pictured trace amounts of pleasure shining through the fear of genuine harm before her fantasies teeter off into a curious haze of uncertainty.

Jessica laid the page back down on the table and turned toward the double doors. She figured that a dining room would not be far from an exit. She came close, repeated her surveying procedures of listening against the door, and opened them slowly. The young woman slipped through before shutting them back behind her. She kept a close eye on her path should she need to retreat back into her room, banking on plausible deniability to be her safety net should a chase occur. Still, the further she pushed her way through the house, the less she had any intention of running over fighting back. She questioned whether or not she would be able to kill someone, should the need arise, both in mental and physical preparedness. Jessica kept herself believing that she could do whatever she needed to do in order to survive, even breaching acts she never had before.

The new room was wide and open. It appeared to be a den of sorts, or perhaps a lounge. A lit fireplace left an eerie orange glow flickering from wall to wall. Plush, amber-colored sitting furniture was stationed intently in a circle around the center of the room, an encouragement for entertaining discussion. The walls were rich, dark wood beneath massively scaled paintings of both portraits and landscapes, neither of which stoked familiarity in Jessica. Nothing looked as if it were anything she had seen before, and yet the room was draped in an odd sense of comfort and purpose. Across one wall, a bar curved out in front of a large cabinet of bottles shimmering in the firelight. A bookshelf stood nearby, arching over another closed doorway. The shelves were full, yet Jessica’s curiosities failed to extend toward their exact contents.

What did catch Jessica’s eye, however, was what stood in the direct center of the room. Positioned in the middle of the circle of lavish seats, lounge chairs, and small glass drink tables was a macabre relic from troubled times. Two thick wooden beams crossed each other to make an ‘X’ shape. They were reinforced at the ends and junction with iron sheeting to form a singular article, St. Andrew’s cross from the Dark Age and Inquisition eras. Yet as Jessica paced around the behemoth standing before her, her own experiences, both passive and active, painted a more accurate and alluring image.

“Kinky,” Jessica whispered. From what she had gathered from Claire’s previous page, the piece was void of surprise. Eying it over and weighing it against her own memory of using such a device, she began to imagine what the deranged tickle cult would use it for. Her own imagination swiftly concluded upon finding another page crudely attached to one side by a drop of dried wax. Jessica leaned in close to read.

‘Mother and Father have shown much more kindness the more we bond. Of course, we rarely speak outside the occasional ‘yes/no, Mother/Father’, but I’m really picking up on what I need to do to get by here. They’ve taken more time to actually teach me about these things, about the Temple of Gargalius, and as much as it all still sounds crazy, I can’t say it isn’t interesting at least. The other members come around more and more, I’ve felt. I think Mother and Father are finally starting to trust me. It feels nice, in a way.

‘When they come around, I’m not supposed to speak, but some have been nice enough to allow it. I also can’t look at them. I’m not allowed to see their faces, but Mother and Father are at least attentive when I’m walking around in the blindfold. In addition to my daily chores, I’m also expected to entertain Mother and Father’s guests when they’re here. This is almost always through tickling, of course, which after having gotten used to it a bit, and without the cattle prod being jammed into my ribs, doesn’t feel so bad anymore. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hell! They really give it to me! And if anything, I’m somehow more ticklish here than I ever remember being. But, I don’t know, it’s kind of grown on me. I’ve come to enjoy the interactions and physical challenges of seeing just how much I can take before I pass out.

‘Occasionally, when several of the others come over at a time, they’ll be in the den drinking and smoking their nasty cigars. They’ll talk about their jobs and lives, mostly politicians in and out of affairs and scandals. Frankly, I don’t know much about it, nor am I allowed to know who they are, but it doesn’t seem to matter much anyway. All I know is that they all still worship Gargalius and join in tickling me as a means of worship or prayer or tribute or something, I don’t really know. They’re pretty nice, actually. Men and women, all of whom sound much older than me, are usually pretty complimentary when they’re tickling me. They’re kind, but can still be quite unforgiving.

‘When we’re in the den, Mother and Father usually strap me to the cross. I’ll be there, placed in front of the fireplace as I stay nice and warm, as the others will come and go and tickle me as they like. Usually with their hands and usually against my belly, sides, and armpits. I squeal like hell when they’re nearby! They’ll drink and smoke and talk to one another, like I’m not even there, while they’re leaving me screaming and laughing. Tickles non stop for hours! Like I’ve said, part of me’s gotten used to it, but damn if it doesn’t seem to get worse and worse each time! Even still though, I find myself hating it less. Even kind of liking it, from time to time.

‘They’ll run feathers and soft brushes over my stomach while scratching at my underarms, kept up by the cross in the middle of the room. They’ll comment on my ‘singing’ and ‘dancing’, my laughter and crazy flailing, like it's some big performance just for them. They’ll comment how much I’ve come to enjoy the ‘surrender’ and how I’m almost ready for Relinquish. Mother and Father have talked about both before. I think ‘surrender’ is just me getting tickled for the sake of Gargalius, or it’s related to the Temple of Gargalius in some way, but I’m not sure what Relinquish is. I keep forgetting to ask. But I can say that my stay here is getting better. I really feel like I’m learning or that I might actually be becoming part of the Temple. If this is what it is, it’s not so bad. As much as I wouldn’t mind going home, I’m just as interested to see where all this goes.’

Jessica reviewed Claire’s more accepting disposition as one strikingly familiar to that of her own. The more she found herself reading about exploits of ticklish torture, the more she felt almost strangely connected to this supposed cult and the alleged reason for her capture. She found herself almost daring the figures of Mother and Father to test her own ticklish senses. Her fear in the situation remained present and rational, yet her curiosity grew as she considered the coincidence that she would be taken by some deranged tickle cult. Given her profession, her history, and her taste for being on the receiving end of a mischievous feather, she began to wonder what she, in turn, could gain out of the situation.

Jessica’s wandering curiosity brought her over to the adjacent set of double doors. Her stride was far more casual, her approach relaxed against the odd, familiar connection that presented itself in the theme of tickling. As much found as it sounded, being in any of the situations presented by Claire in her entries, Jessica knew she had to get out. She thought of her family and friends and what they may already be doing trying to find her. She thought of darker conclusions, imagining what they would all do should she never turn up at all. Jessica shook her head. Her own fantasies were creating alluring delusions. These people were kidnappers and monsters. At the very least, she needed to escape, then only would she figure out how to bring their objective crimes and atrocities to justice.

With a close ear out, she pushed through the doors. She could still hear nothing outside the beating of her own racing heart and puffing of air through her teeth. She stepped through, a chill rushing up against her bare sole as she stepped against a cool, marble floor. She found herself in the presence of another hallway. Electric lights shone in the frames of antique lanterns along the length. Whoever had been managing the manor enjoyed the convenience of modern utilities with a more baroque aesthetic. Jessica noted that the lights were on, yet could still hear no one and nothing around her. Such a removal of an entire sense continued to unnerve, leaving Jessica wishing more and more that she could hear something, anything, to denote presence or life. Yet she pressed on, carefully inching down the marble hall.

The walls were lined with more rustic art pieces. Sculptures and paintings hung like trapped souls watching her approach certain doom while they silently screamed for her safety. Jessica made passive notes to each. It was an impressive collection of art, even from what little she had seen, more so than from any museum she had ever patroned. Her modern sensibilities saw only cost and a gaudy display of one’s wealth, far too lavish for any one man or even family to deserve. Still, the pieces demanded to be appreciated, if only for what they were rather than who they belonged to, so she gazed a slow glance as she passed.

In lieu of searching out a definitive exit, Jessica peered into the next room that she passed. The door stood open, leading into a side bedroom. It was impressive in size, though still lacked the lush amenities of what she expected was not a master bedroom. It was a guest bedroom, one of many Jessica assumed she would find, but far more posh than any bedroom she had ever been in. Like everywhere else she had surveyed, the walls were well decorated, yet remained tasteful in application and nuance. The floor was still marble, with a wide, ornate rug covering most of the space beneath her feet. The room came with a dark wood dresser, a matching wardrobe, and two bedside tables with uniform lamps positioned atop each. A section of the far wall stood shrouded in thick, red velvet curtains. Jessica rushed up to it and threw the curtains open, expecting to find a window. Her estimations were accurate, yet the glee was short-lived. She grabbed a hold of the bottom of the window and pulled. The window remained stationary. Jessica pulled and pushed from every angle, yet in no way could she budge the window to the outside. The glass itself was foggy and distorted, allowing her to only see faded moonlight against the blackness of night.

Jessica turned to look around. She rushed around the room, hoping to find something with which to break through the glass and flee as far away from the strange estate as she could. Yet as her eyes glanced across the bed, she stopped. The bed itself was sizable, yet still seemed small in contrast to the diameter of the room itself. It wore a dark red satin gown of sheets, accented with mahogany posters and curtains that matched its own furnishings. The bed was neatly made, gray pillows leaning against the headboard like tender rain clouds ready to begin the seasonal bloom. Jessica’s eye, however, became fixed on another sheet of paper, torn at the edge like all the others. It sat near the edge of the bed. As she came closer to take it for a read, she could tell instantly a distinctive shift in the girl she had known as Claire.

‘I know now.

‘All of it. It’s all so clear now. I totally understand why, I’m not saying I should have known before, but now I do and I couldn’t be more happy.

‘I don’t know how long it’s been. Months. Maybe years. But I think I’m finally starting to understand my purpose in all this.

‘It was no accident. I was chosen. I was chosen by Lord Gargarius himself, praise be to him. Mother and Father have shown me through painstaking practice and routine, but with nothing but absolute love. They are the benevolent vessels of Lord Gargalius, carrying with them the messages of his love and power. I can only laugh as I read back through what I’ve written. I was so young, so naive, and yet every moment was precisely what it needed to be in order for me to be chosen for the Relinquish. Mother and Father have finally agreed, after a thrilling evening pure, rushing surrender, that I am finally ready to join the others in the Relinquish! I understand what it means and I am so excited to finally enter into that ticklish eternity to serve my Lord.

‘Eternal tickles. Eternal love. Eternal servitude.’

The page trembled in Jessica’s hand. Her eyes furrowed as she read the passage again and again. She analyzed the handwriting to make sure it matched the others. She checked the back and all around for discrepancies, but it all still felt like Claire, or at least a version of Claire.

“What the fuck?” Jessica whispered. As much as she had long since grown to enjoy being tickled herself, the concept of ‘eternity’ carried with it different and dreadful connotations. Her mind flashed images of how grueling being eternally tickled would be. She pictured images of hellish torment, otherworldly from the works of Milton and Dante. Her mind rationalized into arguably more dreary outcomes, of being tickled to actual death. With the page still in hand, Jessica turned to rush out of the room, graced with a new sense of urgency for freedom.

Jessica stopped short of the threshold to the hallway. A searing pain pressed against her midsection and resonated throughout her body. It commanded her muscles to contract and freeze, keeping her in a state of agony that rendered her arms and legs immediately fatigued. Jessica let out a sharp scream before falling silent. Her mouth and eyes dropped open just before her legs gave out beneath her. The pain stopped as she hit the floor, yet the convulsions continued, her limbs trembling and clenching uselessly as her body contorted into a feeble ball. Her mind captured the image of a towering figure standing before her. It carried a long stick with a harsh snapping at the end. She tried to catch a look of the figure’s face, but soon found everything fading into dark, and dark fading into dreamscape. The last thing she could see before giving herself away to faint was a long, sharp smile.

                 “...”

                                                                                                                               “... heh…”

                                                    “... careful now…”

                                                                                               “... newest…”

                         “... clang…”

                                                                                                                                                “... her ready…”

Jessica stirred as her heart cast deep, pounding resonance against her temples. She woke with discomfort, quickly realized to be a tense ache that flushed through her entire body.

"Oh-ugh..." Jessica said, her head still pulsing from the jarring decent to sleep. Once again, the world swirled around her, dancing with the flicker of flames planting heated kisses against her cheek. Her mouth was dry with a lingering taste of copper. She groaned as her eyes fluttered open, finding herself staring up at an idol towering over her. She squinted and stared before her mind began to assess her state further. She pulled at her arms, finding them raised and stretched at perfect diagonal angles. She tried to bend her legs, likewise to find her entire body spread about like an X.

"Wha... what the hell?" Jessica muttered. Her temples continued to pulse strained, aching waves.  Her eyes blinked for further clarity. The room around her was large and unfamiliar. Her voice and quick, hysterical breathing echoed off of temple walls, adorned with statues and reliefs. Torches painted the room in an orange glow. The light danced upon all the walls and as far as it would go before reaching the top of the conical temple ceilings, an abyss of blackness staring down at Jessica's panicking figure. Her eyes widened as she pulled more at her arms and legs. The gestures cast the billowing cries of metallic clangs resonating across the stone room. The thick metal cuffs kept her firmly locked in place. It was a position that Jessica had found herself in many times for work, but never before had she ever felt she was in as much potential danger to which she awoke in that ancient, stone chapel.

"Fuck!" Jessica shouted, the context of what she knew from the others flooding back to her. The capture. The tickling. The oddly sycophantic ramblings from the pages and relative loss of life painted for her a dreadful picture of her fate. Jessica twisted in place, pulling at the restraints with all the strength she could summon. She strained and gnashed her teeth, but none of the cuffs would give way to her efforts. In the moment, she knew that she had been caught. Jessica knew exactly who she was dealing with. "Please! Let me go! Please!"

Jessica continued to grunt and thrash in place. Her voice carried through the large chamber, bouncing off of the walls. The warmth of the torches, coupled with the panic and restless movement, left her skin beading with sweat. She assessed that she was still in the two pieces of clothing in which she had originally woken up. The cloth covered her chest with a matching bottom leaving her hips and groin relatively protected. Her armpits felt the licks of the live heat while her feet grew warm and frightfully aware of their own helplessness. Her belly squirmed as she wriggled in place, fully exposed and helpless to defend itself. Jessica huffed a deep breath, her teeth grinding as she tried to slip her wrists and ankles free from the cuffs. The allure in the promise of tickles did little to quell the consequences of which in her storming minds.

The idol staring down onto her quaking figure was one she had seen from the other rooms that she had explored, mostly featured in the many works of art she had given passing witness. The robed force bore a wide, almost skeletal grin beneath its hood. It held up two hands, each with long, skinny fingers. They themselves were armed with abnormally long nails, the palms of the hands pointing at one another just beneath the creature’s chin. Its robe was decorated with the carvings of feathers. Around the room, several large pods stood out as the only element of technology or the modern age at all. They hung across the walls in towering columns and offset rows. Many gave mild hums of activity and green lights that remained on and glaring down at Jessica. Panes of glass across the fronts were blacked out, many by layers of dust and grime. The pods themselves had bronze pipes that fed across the walls into the head of the menacingly grinning idol. Jessica's heart pounded, staring up at the figure smiling victoriously down at her.

"Please let me go!" Jessica continued to beg openly into the room. She grunted as she pulled at the cuffs, granting her just enough room to struggle her arms and legs into slight bends. As she laid there on the altar, basking in the heated light of the torches filling the room, two robed figures walked up to the frightened girl. Their footsteps were softened by boots made of cloth and leather straps. Their hoods were up, exposing just the bottoms of their faces to Jessica, where wide, toothy smiles leered down at her. "Please... you don't have to do this..."

"Shhh, hush now," one of them said in a deep register. One was noticeably larger than the other one and boasted a somewhat muscular frame beneath the robe. Both of their smiles never wavered beyond slight twitches, the skin around them wrinkled and pale. The skinnier of the two came up to Jessica’s head. They reached out their wrinkled hand, equipped with long, shrunken fingers, and traced her nails through Jessica’s hair.

"It'll all be better soon,” the figure spoke in the voice of an older woman. Jessica laid trembling against the altar, her eyes dashing between the two.

"What will?" Jessica asked, having found answers but needing to hear them directly from the source. "What's going on?"

"Shhhh, speak softly, dear," the woman said. "My name is Mother and this is Father. We don't want to hurt you..."

"But we will if you give us any more problems," Father added bluntly. They continued to smile to seemingly impossible degrees as they spoke, moving fluidly around the bound girl. Mother chuckled as if waving Father's remark off as playful or inconsequential.

"It's all for the greater good, my dear," Mother continued. "We're here to help you become the next Acolyte of Gargalius." Jessica's chest pounded, in no small part due to the promise of the tickles to come. However, the context in which left her gut hollow and chilly with trepidation. She glanced around as Mother and Father walked around the girl, checking the cuffs binding her to the altar.

"Wait, you... will you let me go after?" Jessica asked, trying to reason her way into a more rational conclusion. "I know about the... the tickling or the suffering or whatever... I'm fine with it, I really am, but please don't keep me here." Mother and Father laughed among themselves.

"Oh, don't be silly, dear," Mother said. "Tickling is only part of being an Acolyte, of joining the Relinquish. It is how you honor your lord and savior, Lord Gargalius."

"It is how they all honor Lord Gargalius," Father said. "Through the suffering and the Relinquish, throughout the end of time, this is how all Acolytes eventually join Lord Gargalius, glory in servitude."

"Glory in servitude, Lord Gargalius," Mother said, bowing her head and closing her eyes. Jessica pulled at her arms and legs once more. Mother and Father finished checking the binds to make sure they were still working properly. They nodded to one another. Father stood behind the altar, his back turned to the towering statue, and drew out a long, heavy drawer from beneath the slab upon which Jessica struggled.

"Let me go, please," Jessica said. Her pleas went without response from her captors. Jessica grumbled a little, searching for the right thing to say that could lead to her freedom. "I... I know about Claire! And the... and the other one... I know what you did to them!"

"Ah yes, the diary," Mother said, thoughtfully. "It will be yours once you can be trusted with it."

"What are you talking about?" Jessica asked. "You tortured them, brainwashed them!"

"We opened their eyes to the truth," Mother said, her voice warm and tender. "In the end, they were thanking us, happy to suffer for the great Lord Gargalius, and begged to join the Relinquish."

"We showed them their purpose, which they came to accept with open, loving arms," said Father. "And those two young ladies are far from the only ones."

"Wh... what?" Jessica asked. Mother giggled.

"Oh dear, you'll learn in time," she said, "but worship for our Lord Gargalius has prospered for centuries. His followers and sacrifices live forever in the service of his duties. He grants us eternal life and we praise him through work and loyalty and undying laughter." Jessica's brows furrowed. She squirmed more as Father walked over to a nearby wall. He came up to a section just beneath a pod and held his hand up to a circular relief.

Sections of the wall around where Father touched began to illuminate. The robed man inputted several strange strokes and motions before one of the pods extended from the wall. A pneumatic hiss sliced through the air as the pod lowered on a thin, mechanical arm. Jessica fixed her eyes on the device watched over by Mother and Father.

“Forgive us, Lord,” Father said loudly, “but your new Acolyte must witness the Relinquish for herself.” Jessica watched as the front of the pod split open. She squinted and blinked to get as clear a sight as she could by what she saw inside.

A woman, not much older than Jessica by her own estimations, flailed restlessly within a complex series of bindings. Her skin was frightfully pale and glistened with sweat, among other fluids. The device, more mechanical and technologically advanced than anything Jessica had seen thus far, held the captive perfectly in place for the torture it unleashed endlessly onto her quaking, naked figure. Her arms were bent to position her hands behind her head, leaving her pits exposed for dozens of tiny finger-like prongs to scribble and scratch throughout. More poked and traced along the edges of her ribs. Brushes spun against the girl’s bare nipples, just as deaf to her cries as the nature of the machine around her. Her sides were tirelessly squeezed with mechanical precision and persistence. Several brushes whirred around her belly by more thin arms arcing from behind. A single prod twirled and buzzed from deep inside of her navel.

The girl could do little more than twitch in place. Thick straps kept her locked down against a padded back, leaving her unable to move much despite her body’s desperate attempts to do so. Her groin area was cupped by a receptacle of sorts, likely distributing more hellish, mechanical tickles from out of Jessica’s view. The girl’s thighs were spread with her legs bent in a suspended butterfly position. Her thighs endured more squeezing tickles while rolling brushes whirred behind each knee. Her feet were occupied by more mechanical brushes in between where her soles met, effectively locked in place. Her toes received their own treatment of ruthless scratching and flossing.

“GGGGGAAAAAHHHHHHEHHHHHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAPAPHHREEEEEHHAHAHA!!!!!” the girl’s laughter poured between short, wheezing breaths. Jessica heard her manic, deep laughter echoing throughout the room the moment that the doors parted. The girl’s head was kept in place by a strap across her forehead with pads at both sides. Her eyes were covered by a black blindfold and her mouth was kept open by a wide, round ring. The ring appeared connected to a tube that led into the top of the pod interior. Despite her laughter being fed into the tube, more than enough seeped out into the open, along with the vicious motors and mechanical mewing of the machines facilitating her torture. Jessica laid speechless as she witnessed the horror before her. The display had far surpassed her own macabre, masochistic tastes for being tickled into one of abject terror and dread, stirring a sickness squelching deep inside of her gut. Mother and Father, however, stood back and witnessed the girl’s suffering with no change in their gleeful expression.

“Glory in servitude, Lord Gargalius!” Mother said once more, loudly with her arms raised out. Father too repeated the phrase before returning to the wall and commanding the machine to close the pod and return it to its place. Jessica stared wide-eyed at the wall of pods hanging before her, fearfully assuming that each hung as a vessel of another prisoner’s eternal ticklish suffering.

“Pl… please… please don’t do this…” Jessica said. Her begging earned her the attention of Mother and Father once more. Both came back up to the altar, still smiling.

“My dear Acolyte, this is what they all say at first,” Mother said, speaking slowly and softly. “Before they are taught the glory of Lord Gargalius and what it means to serve in Relinquish.”

“He feeds off of the laughter and the obedience of the ticklish,” Father added. “And soon, he will feast off of yours.”

“Yes, and you will praise and sing and soon beg to join the others in their restless splendor!” Mother said. Jessica struggled more against the cuffs. She grunted and twisted more and more, trying to get herself free. Mother and Father passively watched as they wheeled over small, squeaky carts, topped with specialized instruments.

“Please let me go!” Jessica pleaded.

“We know all about your ticklish exploits, dear Acolyte,” Mother said. “We knew that you would provide ample sustenance to Lord Garaglius for years and years to come.”

“The hardest part is always the beginning,” Father said. “Erasing the damage done by the falsehoods of society can take weeks, occasionally months, of exposure to Lord Gargalius’s love before they find themselves willing to surrender.”

“The quicker you let yourself surrender, the sooner you can join the others, singing his praise for all time,” Mother said. She came up on one side of Jessica’s midsection while Father approached the other. Jessica watched on with a paleness flushed across her cheeks, painfully aware of both sadistic ticklers staring down at her exposed and highly sensitive belly. Both Mother and Father lifted long, stiff feathers from their carts. They inspected their mauve plumes closely before turning their attention back down to the ticklish mound of skin laying quivering before them.

“Pl-please, I… I’m so ticklish!” Jessica cried out, not knowing what else to say. Mother and Father chuckled to themselves.

“Oh, my dear,” Father said softly. “We know.”

Mother and Father lowered the feathers onto Jessica’s stomach. Their smiles persisted as they each began to swipe and swirl the feathers across the bare, pale surface of Jessica’s tummy. Jessica knew the feeling of a feather well. Despite preparing herself for much the same stimulation that she had been made used to, the kiss of the feathers against her stomach ignited a response that caught her by surprise.

“Whaaahhehehehehehehahaa!” Jessica’s belted, her senses being immediately stoked by the feathery swipes. Mother and father continued to smile as they traced the feathers all over the soft, tepid area. They stroked each plume across the ridges of her muscles contracting with a fit of unstoppable giggles. The pair watched as Jessica’s body was sent into writhing unrest to the touch of their tools. They snickered as they ran the feathers all over Jessica’s quivering stomach, the tips of the plumes never once leaving her skin.

“My, my, this one’s especially sensitive,” Mother said, swiping her feather back and forth across the center of Jessica’s belly. Jessica squealed and giggled louder and louder as the feathery tickles continued their light and plentiful onslaught against her senses. Jessica found herself bucking and thrashing at the persistence of the tickles, still light and teasing though slowly building into a surge of stimulation. The feathers reached her nerves more potently than any feathers she had ever felt before, powering through the protective barrier of fear her mind tried to conjure to create a stirring gale of tickles resonating across her midsection.

“She will make for an excellent Acolyte,” Father commented, staring and smiling down at the wriggling girl below him. Their ticklish approach was experienced, able to guide the feathers in a way that worked with the way Jessica’s belly naturally squirmed. Both ticklers simply eased Jessica into the sensation with the faintest of feathery strokes, yet the lightness of their touch was more than enough to ignite the nerves of Jessica’s ticklish tummy. The girl whimpered through her giggles. She clenched and twisted in the cuffs holding her body splayed out so vulnerably. Her hips swiveled and bucked in place as the tickles twirled through her senses.

“Naaaaeehehehheheheheheee!! Stahahahap!!” Jessica squealed. She knew, in the moment, that she would otherwise not mind the treatment, even very much enjoying it. She had gone into the work of being a tickle model on that very basis. While under the feather, her fear and reservation lied almost purely on the idea of what the pair would end up doing to her rather than what they currently were; the feathers, and the tickles they genuinely incited, were familiar and objectively pleasant. Yet Jessica’s worries remained on the future of her fate, no matter how much she would find pleasure in the teasing under any other circumstance.

“Such a soft area,” Father said. He cocked his head to the side. Despite not being able to see them, Jessica could feel both Father and Mother’s eyes bearing down on her, studying her every move and each ticklish reception. They both painted her tummy with feathery strokes, each bursting with wave after wave of building tickles. Jessica’s laughter grew with the constant stimulation. It billowed from giggles in full laughter, echoing throughout the temple. Mother and Father continued feathering on, almost encouraged by her budding reactions.

“Indeed,” Mother said. “She will serve very well in time.” They flicked and swiped the feathers up and down and all over Jessica’s tummy. Her stomach turned and shifted and quaked through her laughter. Jessica writhed against the stone altar, her shrieks of laughter filling the rooms up to the smiling grimace of the looming idol. The heat from the surrounding torchlights cast heated waves of orange onto her bare skin. Her hands balled into fists as she gritted her teeth and continued to pull at her binds. Her toes curled and feet flailed in place in an ongoing attempt to slip from their cuffs.

“Staaaahhhehehehhahap!! Eeeeehhhehehhahahahaa!!” Jessica giggled. She knew swaying the pair would be more complicated than appealing to their sympathy, if possible at all. Her eyes rolled as her head fell back. The tickles, funneled through the perpetual swiping of the feathers against her belly, resonated throughout the area, making her entire midsection feel consumed with feathery swipes. As Father circled his plume around the outer ring of the spot, Mother let her feather spiral inward, coming closer to Jessica’s shallow belly button.

“So much to explore,” Mother said, “and so much time left to do so.” Mother’s long, boney fingers guided the feather closer to Jessica’s navel. Jessica knew the futility of her objections, trying to brace herself for what was to come. Mother giggled as her feather caressed the exterior rim of the small, delicate dip. Jessica squealed into a bursting fit of laughter, worsening as the tip of Mother’s feather grazed inside of her navel.

“Neeaaaaaahhhhhahahahahahaaa!! Ohhh gahahahahaad!!” Jessica screamed. Her arms and legs tugged hard at the cuffs holding them open. Her back arched as her hips raised up off of the altar, only to fall back into place. Mother and Father’s feather placement remained unchanged, almost expecting and reacting to the responses as they occurred. Jessica’s shrieking giggles bellowed into full cries of laughter. The feathery brush inside of her belly button sent waves of tickles tearing through her senses, commanding the irrational motions of her body as it did the laughter bursting from her throat.

“My, my, we sure found a spot,” Mother said. She shared a look and a laugh with father, still wafting his feather all over Jessica’s stomach.

“We’ll have to remember that,” he said. The two snickered, pleased with their findings. They tickled gleefully on, calm and stoic in the presence of Jessica’s ticklish display. The girl cried and shrieked. She writhed more against the stone altar, her laughter echoing throughout the chamber. The minute brushes of the feathers sent the ticklish collections of nerves through her belly into a frenzy. They swiped and plucked and licked at her skin, covering every inch over and over again. Despite Mother and Father’s casual pace, there was nothing Jessica could do to restrain her overwhelming ticklishness, particularly in that area.

“Naaahahahahahahahahaaa!!! Ohhhh gaahahahaha- stahahahahahahap!!!” Jessica ‘s head fell backward as laughter spilled from her gaping mouth. She continued to pull at her binds, her body not knowing exactly how to handle the combination of stimulation and terror coursing through her. Jessica recalled having been bound and tickled in that exact position many times before, but never before had the tickles been accentuated with so much dreadful promise. The feathering persisted for minutes by Jessica’s best estimation. Her mind did what it could to brace itself for what was to come, her estimations bridging into the idea that the tickling she endured would not be the end.

“Such a lovely figure,” Father said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mother?”

“I would,” Mother said, calmly. “Let us guide her more into this sweet surrender.” For a moment, Jessica felt a sense of cooling relief wash over her. The tickles came to an end as Mother and Father pulled back their feathers. Jessica huffed a heavy sigh, a breath she had sucked down many times before, the one following a heavy bout of tickling. Never before had two simple feathers reduced her to such a state, but she drank down that first breath like a cool glass of water on a hot day.

“Pl… please…” Jessica begged. “I… I won’t tell anyone about this, just… please…”

“We adore your begging, dear,” said Father, returning his feather to the cart next to him, “but as an Acolyte, your begging should be reserved for praising Lord Gargalius.”

“Do not fear though, dear, all new Acolytes start out where you are,” Mother said. “We just have to flush away your tainted, worldly conditioning with more praise for Lord Gargalius’s love.”

“M-more… please… I-I can’t take this…” Jessica said. The words felt untrue as they slipped from her mouth. Her mind briefly flashed memories of sessions and instances in which she had withstood much worse tickling than that of the feathers, but the implication of more tortures to come, meant to reprogram her personality and way of thinking, gave Jessica more than enough reason to feign the intensity.

“There is nothing you can say that will be more or less true than anything we have heard before, my dear,” said Father. “Rest assured: you can take it and you will take it.” The man picked up a large, thick pair of scissors, the blades glimmering in the light of the flames.

“And by the end, you will be so eager and happy that you did, you will beg like all the others to join in the eternal surrender, taking your place in the Relinquish!” Mother said. Jessica shook her head, staring up at the two elders with wide, glistening eyes. Father hovered the scissors over Jessica’s chest, bringing them down to snip away the cloth from the bottom to the collar. He steadily tore away the article, stripping her chest completely bare. Her breasts heaved as Jessica panted, her skin glistening a sweaty sheen. Jessica grunted while she tugged more at the cuffs holding her arms and legs out. The couple gave little reaction to her breast being exposed.

“You… you freaks…” Jessica groaned. “When I get out of here, I’m kicking both of your asses!” Father replaced the scissors with his feather once more, holding the plume up once again to inspect. The two came up closer to Jessica’s head, feathers pinched between their fingers.

“Such a shame to see the corruption of the world taint such a beautiful voice for laughter,” Mother said.

“In time, she will learn,” Father said, giving Jessica’s outburst little reaction. “And she will praise her Lord like all the others.” Mother and Father lowered their feathers back down to Jessica’s body, aiming toward her shoulders. Jessica twisted once more. She angrily grunted and pulled until the feathers swiped down toward her armpits. The delicate fibrous ends of the plumes brushed around the slick, slender hollows of both pits at once, igniting a rush of ticklish sensations colliding within Jessica’s senses from both sides. Jessica’s face contorted into a harsh wince. She held out her laughter for as long as she could, but seconds of the feathers swirling around her delicate, exposed armpits was all she could withstand in restraint.

“Mnnnnneeeeeeeeeee… mmmmhehehhhahahahahahahaaheheheeheehee!!!” Jessica gave into another fit of giggles. Her arms trembled as the tickles fluttered through her pits beneath them. The feathers returned with much the same effect, gentle swipes sending streams of tickles all through Jessica’s burning senses. Jessica squealed. Her chest rose and fell as her back arched more against the altar. Sweat trickled against her skin, shimmering in the flames dancing to the winds of her laughter. A dense musk filled the room around them, penetrating the air. The feathers scraped into the plush mounds of Jessica’s helpless pits. Each swipe sent a flurry of tickles searing through her nerves, as familiar in sensation as they were ravishing in stimulation.

“Lord Gargalius is pleased by your surrender,” Mother said, her voice calm and oddly warm. With the feather firmly pinched between her index finger and thumb, she drew circles around Jessica’s ticklish pit. She fluffed and feathered the area with an experienced approach to tickling. Jessica’s expression clenched and released with wave upon wave of constant giggling. Her figure laid plagued with perpetual, reactionary writhing. Her arms trembled as they pulled and released against the hold of her binds. The pleasure of the feather’s kiss meshed with the horrific promise of more tickles awaiting her fate, reducing her composure with a harsh sting of sensitivity.

“Neeeeaaahhhhhhhehehehehhahahahaha!! N-nahahahooo pleehehahase!!” Jessica’s voice cracked a bit. Her laughter broke occasionally into little coughs and snorts, though the tickles persisted nonetheless.

“She bears a voice more pleasant than any of the others,” Father said, casually. Both of Jessica’s captors continued to smile as Father’s feather drifted over the quaking rise of her chest. Jessica shook her head, feeling the feather’s gentle lick curiously glide toward upward, toward her stiff, pink nipple.

“No no noooaaaahahahhaahhhhehehehee!!” Jessica squealed. A new surge of tickles burst through her senses as Father’s feather brushed and traced across the wriggling crest of Jessica’s bare breast. He flicked and circled the fibrous end around the entire, heaving morsel. As Mother’s feather continued to lap away at Jessica’s slick, underarm hollow, Father’s spiraled around one mound, playfully teetering closer and closer to her nipple, stiffened with reluctant excitement.

“Such a stellar figure,” Mother said, adoring Jessica’s explosive reactions as she tickled. “Lord Gargalius will be especially pleased with this one.” Father agreed as his feather reached its target. It flicked off of Jessica’s nipple with the faintest of touch. Nevertheless, The sudden swipe against such a sensitive area created a convulsion that shot through Jessica’s entire form. Her arms and legs jerked violently against their cuffs. Her face clenched once more as a loud squeal exerted through her manic fit of laughter. The tender kiss of the feather, flicking off and circulating her nipple, sent tickles ravaging through her composure. The innocuous motions created storms of tickles raging within, inciting howls of frantic laughter soaring from Jessica’s mouth.

“NAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAOAOOOOhahahahahahahaaaa!!! Ohhhh gahahahahahahahahaaaaad!!!” Jessica screamed. Her captors continued to smile as they watched her squirm in place. Father kept a close eye on how Jessica’s chest quivered and pulsed with her laughter. He maintained a casual brushing of the feather circulating and dashing playfully off of her nipple. Mother, having noticed the increase in reaction, guided her plume to Jessica’s other breast, letting the ticklish tool taste the delicate, humid skin.

“Surrender excites this one, I can tell,” Mother said, brushing her feather up and around the heaving hill of Jessica’s chest. “This is good. Lord Gargalius rewards those who rejoice in their praise.” Both feathers traced across Jessica’s breasts, brushing to and away the frail centers. Mother and Father examined Jessica’s responses closely as their feathers embraced the supple regions of both Jessica’s perking nipples at once. Jessica screamed as the tickles surged in from some of her most sensitive spots. She bucked and thrashed as her body convulsed with ticklish agony at the slightest of application.

“GAAAAHHHHHHHHHAHHAAHHAHAH!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAAAP!!!” Jessica screamed. Her cries continued to only encourage Mother and Father to push the girl further. Her captors delightfully painted their feathery tickles all over Jessica’s chest, wafting and quivering to her rapid motions. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face and left her skin glistening in the orange glow. Mother and Father drank in Jessica’s wild laughter. They smiled and tickled with the most minimal of effort until Jessica’s voice began to groan. Her laughter drew hoarse, interrupted by more frequent gasps of air. The elders kept tickling for several moments beyond Jessica approaching her threshold. After, Mother was first to draw her feather away, followed by Father.

“We cannot have you passing out so soon, my dear,” Mother said. “There is still so much to be discovered.”

“And much more surrender to please Lord Gargalius,” Father added. Jessica wheezed to catch her breath. Her hair laid out sprawled in tangles and matted to her sweat-drenched forehead. Her cheeks glowed while her eyes shimmered with tears. She hurried herself to breathe normally, preparing herself for more ticklish torment.

“Pl… please…” Jessica continued to beg. She knew not for what she was begging, knowing well that her captors would simply not let her go. Her mind turned with a desire to say something, but no word came to her that Jessica imagined would bring her peace. She stared up at the idol above her. The beast smiled in an almost snickering pose. Jessica followed the pipes leading from the statue to branch out into the various pods hanging on the walls. Their laughter, the ticklish laughter of the cult's other captives, lead into the idol. It fed off of their suffering, their eternal ticklish agony keeping that smile on its face, the sneering face of Lord Gargalius.

“Save your voice for praise, dear,” Father said. He and Mother returned their feathers to the cart. Father stayed down by Jessica’s hips while Mother descended down to the far end of the altar, by her feet. Jessica swallowed, shifting tiredly in place. She watched as both raised their hands, showing off their aged fingers, long with exaggerated nails protruding from each. Her hands clenched into fists. She bit her lip as she braced herself for the ticklish onslaught to continue.

“I… I can’t take this…” Jessica begged. “Please, seriously, I’m going to pass o-aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhheeehhahahahahaahAHHAHAHAA!!!” The tickles returned in a sudden crescendo of intensity. Father’s hands pinched with wide palms at the girl’s slender sides, reaching over her body to torment both at the same time. Mother’s efforts unleashed all ten scribbling fingers against Jessica’s bare soles. Their motions were effective, only slightly strained by their age, yet were more than enough to get Jessica screaming with laughter.

“The Acolyte must learn how to properly honor and praise her Lord,” Father said, loudly for Jessica to hear over her screaming. “It is the duty of all souls to sing their love for the mighty Lord Gargalius just as it is the Acolyte’s Relinquish what supplements the songs of all mankind.” His large, meaty hands squeezed at Jessica’s sides. His touch was strong and rough, but well experienced in the effectiveness of tickling. Every rapid squeeze sent shocks of tickles bursting through Jessica’s senses. She bucked and thrashed and twisted in place, tears streaming from her eyes as she howled with desperate, ticklish laughter.

“GAAAHHHHHHHHAHHAHAAA!!! OHHHMYGAHAHAHAHAHAAAD!!!!” Jessica shrieked. She pulled at her binds until her arms and legs ached from the impulsive motions. She swung her head side to side, her hair flying every which way. Her chest wafted back and forth. Her stomach and jaw pulsed with strain through the aggressive, laughing fits. More tickles collided from her bottom half, tearing through her senses from the delicate soles of her feet.

“For it is the grace of the Acolyte that sacrifice becomes pleasure, that Lord Gargalius can bestow his love onto the world!” Mother added, almost yelling her sermon as her fingers danced across Jessica’s warm, blushing soles. “That we should all rejoice in the songs of the Lord, sung endlessly by those that earn the privilege to join in the Relinquish!” She spoke not to threaten or instill fear, but as an educator, her voice chorused with the warmth and serenity of a tutor. Each of her nails remained in constant contact with Jessica’s soles. No matter how they flailed or curled to fend off the scribbling tickles, Mother’s appeared to follow her every irrational motion, sending flurries of tickles up from her soles throughout her entire body.

“FAAAHHHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAACK!!!” Jessica screamed. Mother’s tickles were quick and ruthless. Her hands scoured all over each delicate foot, scribbling up from her heels and across her arches. They dug beneath her toes, tasting the rich, frail nerves in and around her wriggling digits. Mommy smiled as she watched Jessica’s feet squirm beneath her fingertips. She skittered and scratched faster and faster, both her and Father pushing the girl’s ticklish senses farther with each passing second.

“In time, the Acolyte will show gratitude toward surrender, among all other duties,” Father said. “Your service to Lord Gargalius will be not an obligation to which you are expected to uphold, but a pleasure you yearn for each and every day.” His hands squeezed up and down Jessica’s sides. His fingers plunged into the soft stretches of flesh over and over again, inviting only the tickles that exploded through her midsection. She wriggled and writhed in place, shrieking with louder and louder fits of laughter.

“The quicker you realize and accept your purpose in life, dear Jessica, the sooner you can begin your service and the sooner you’ll be accepted in the Relinquish,” Mother said. Her nails viciously scraped and skittered up and down both of Jessica’s soft, pale soles. Each little swipe of her fingers sent bursts of tickles through Jessica’s senses, compounding into a roaring surge of torturous sensation. The woman attacked both feet with a continuous flurry of tickles. Her touch reached all over each until both of Jessica soles had been thoroughly tormented several times over.

“GAAAHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHEAHAHAHEEE!!!” Jessica’s screams bounced from wall to wall. Her laughter added to the silent shrieks of the numerous souls trapped in the pods around the temple, doomed to suffer tickling far more intensive and endless than anything Jessica ever had before. Her body battled against a rapidly raising fatigue while cursed into a restless dancing fit of tugging and bucking against the altar. Her body shimmered with the glow of sweat and blush. Her hands trembled into pitiful fists. Her eyes poured tears while her mouth remained opened and locked in an expression for manufactured mirth.

“Embrace Lord Gargalius’s love, young Acolyte Jessica,” Mother said. “Know that every moment of surrender is the exchange of love in its purest form. Relish this feeling as we know you do.” Her fingers continued to scurry quickly all over both of Jessica’s feet. Her nails scraped against her heels and plush at the bases of her toes. They raked up and down her arches and dug in between and underneath each delicate digit. The tickles stormed through her souls like a wildfire consuming the tinder of her nerves, thrusting Jessica deeper into her own strained hysteria.

“We only wish to help,” Father said, still smiling and kneading his fingers into her sides. “To help you understand your place in this world, a place of honor and divinity.” He squeezed and pinched both stretches of muscle between her hips and her ribs. Each gnaw came quickly and with its own burst of tickles, adding to the raging sea of stimulation tearing through her composure. Jessica howled with laughter. Her voice began to strain again, whimpering and sobbing between fits of giggles and desperate gulps of air. As Mother and father began to notice Jessica’s waning state once more, their hands pulled away.

Another gasp of air came almost painfully unrefreshing against the sting of a throat on fire. Jessica swallowed as much as she could while her head swam and her eyes fluttered. Sweat poured from her burning body. Her limbs laid weak against the slab beneath her. Her body rested in the liminal moments between. Jessica huffed, her chest rising and falling with great exaggeration. Many times before she had been pushed to the brink of her own ticklish fortitude, but under the guise of such dreary promise, she had no impression as to how much more she would end up taking.

Mother and Father floated back up to be on either side of her hips. Mother’s fingers grazed her legs while passing, her nails lightly dragging across her thigh. The couple paused for a moment that both seemed to linger and end too quickly for Jessica’s needs. Before she could capture her fill of air, Jessica felt the return of the tickles to her senses. Mother and Father’s fingers fell upon her bare belly with faint, teasing strokes. A chilling rush of dread washed over Jessica as she whined into the rising hysteria once more.

“No, noooaaaahhhhhhahahahahaAHAHAHAH!!! OOOHHHGAAHAHAHAHAHD!!!” Jessica’s expression melted from defeated hopelessness back into ticklish ecstasy. Mother and Father’s fingers spidered down against Jessica’s belly, skittering and scratching with far less fatigue than what plagued the young girl. With their hands combined, they covered the area. Their long, slender fingers feasted on Jessica’s ticklish nerves with a hunger that could never be satiated. The tickles bloomed out from the spot. The sensations of the feathers against her belly multiplied, both in quality and quantity with each scrape of the couple’s devilish touch.

“Such enlightened response,” Father said, his long, sturdy nails digging into Jessica's toned stomach. He felt around every ridge of her convulsing muscles, able to better map out where he and how he would squeeze. Her stomach danced beneath his hands. Father maintained pace with her restless squirming, almost holding down the wriggling midsection to better facilitate the gnawing tickles.

“FAAAAACCCKKKHEHEHEHRHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAPPP! PLEEHEHAHAHAHSEEE!!!” Jessica screamed through her laughter. Her throat stung with a raw soreness of overuse. Tears poured down her face. The gnashing tickles pumped through her nerves in a steady, storming surge of pure stimulation. As Father’s fingers spread about her tummy, pressing into the delicate, ticklish muscle, Mother had taken a different approach. Her fingers flew into a light, rapid flurry of scratches, sending a contrasting clash of tickles tearing away what little constitution remained of the poor girl's composure.

“So much potential,” Mother said. “Your songs of praise will delight Lord Gargalius for all eternity!” Her fingers dashed all around the young girl's stomach. She scurried and scribbled her nails in rapid concentrations. Her hands scanned across the entire surface of Jessica’s quivering stomach, taunting the faint nerves resting at the surface of her burning skin. Mother’s smile persisted through the torment, unyielding as her arms shined with sweat beneath her robe. The efforts were obvious, yet miniscule compared to Jessica’s own simply to endure.

“WHHHAAAAHAHAHAHAHEHHEHEHEHEE!!! FAAAAHAHAHAHAAACK!!!” Jessica cried. She sobbed through her laughter. Her delight in being tickled had long since vanished to absolute fear and strain, neither of which she felt as if she could win against. The tickles, persistent and varied in style, rose as a single, agonizing stream, riddling her body and mind with unending mania.

“Her navel was especially responsive, Mother,” Father said. He continued to squeeze and gnaw at Jessica's stomach. Mother nodded slowly, peering up for but a moment.

“Interesting,” Mother said slowly. “Lord Gargalius will take pleasure in this finding.” Mother shifted one of her hands closer to the center of her stomach, the other electing to keep up the skittering tickles throughout. Her index finger neared Jessica’s belly button. It scratched and slithered closer, fanning the nervousness of Jessica’ dwindling composure. As Mother began circling the outer surface of the quaking, glistening dip, the slightest touch shot tickles in through Jessica’s senses, electrifying to degrees only possible by the girl’s peaking sensitivity.

“NAAHAHHAHAHOOOO!!! PLEEEAAHAHAHAAASE!!!” The tickles consumed the surface of Jessica’s stomach. Her belly twisted and bucked against a roaring tempest of overstimulation. Her torment became further accentuated by Mother’s nail dipping into her navel after teasing the spot with slow, scribbling circles. It scratched inside the shallow, moist cavern, reaching every ticklish nerve within every second of twirling against the delicate inner walls. Jessica threw her head back as her spine lifted up off of the altar. The tickles ripping across her belly were matched in intensity by the slight, unassuming scratches by Mother’s nail within her navel. “NAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”

“In time, your pleas will be for more surrender, more chances to sing your praises to your Lord,” Mother said. She swirled her nail deep inside of Jessica’s navel. Her other hand spidered quick tickles all over Jessica’s squirming stomach. Her hands weaved around Fathers, kneading and rapidly grabbing at the spot with ruthless vigor. Both tickled insistently, continuing forth like a dance to the songs of Jessica’s desperation. They smiled as they chipped away at Jessica’s composure, second by second leaving her screaming with absolute ticklish agony.

“FAAAAAAAAHHHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAKKKK!!!” Jessica shrieked. Her body, flailing against her binds, began to reside to its fate. Fatigue started to set in once more. As much as it wanted to keep thrashing defensively, Jessica’s reserves of energy were running dry. Her head swam as her laughter became tarnished with sobbing wails. The ticklish hell was inescapable, that much had been perfectly proven, and her endurance of it mattered less to her eventual relief than Mother and Father’s own sense of mercy and restraint.

The tickles stopped once more. Jessica’s laughter faded into echoes bouncing around the room, replaced promptly by gasping, wheezing, and weeping. Her mind flashed images of thoughts around like a collage, unable to form or commit to a single contemplation for too long. Jessica saw her own mother and father in her swirling vision. She saw her friends, piecing their faces together from memories of laughing over drinks and complaining about men. She wondered if she would see any of them ever again, how they would feel should she go missing forever. Jessica coughed. Even in her exhaustion, she fought back against the feelings of hopelessness. Despite enduring some of the worst tickling she ever had, she trusted it would be no more than simply that, a sensation that, albeit torturous, she had handled before and could handle again. Jessica knew she would just need to last and not give into the strange brainwashing of her two elderly captors.

“Breathe now, dear Acolyte Jessica,” Mother said, stroking the side of her face. “You still have much left to give.” She and Father returned to the carts. They plucked over their selection of tools before making their choice. They lifted what appeared to be two brushes with thick, circular tops like makeup brushes. The handles were thick and mechanical, Father and Mother each switching on a trigger on one side. The brush head flew into a sudden and rapid spin, lasting only a moment for a test, but the whir of the motor was jarringly loud. Jessica stared down with tired eyes, blinking through the sting of sweat.

“Pl…. ple….” Jessica began. Mother and Father rose to be up by her head once more. Their smiles persisted without so much as a tremble to display strain or force; wide, toothy grins bearing yellow and jagged pearls underneath. They each lowered their brush down against Jessica’s bare, exposed armpit. As the fibers of the brushes touched Jessica’s skin, the young woman let out a clenching shriek. A sudden tickle shot through Jessica’s body, beaming with absolute sensitivity. The pair were quick to switch the devices on, sending the heads spinning wildly against the tender, slick hollows of Jessica’s underarms. Instantly, a bolt of pure stimulation exploded through Jessica’s figure, contracting her muscles like voltage. Her back arched once again as her head flew back, releasing a shrieking scream of tormented laughter. “NNNNAA-AAHHHHHHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!! OOOOHHHHMYGAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!”

“Pleasure in surrender,” Father said. He repeated the phrase as he smiled and massaged the brush into Jessica’s tormented armpit. Both pressed their brushes inward so no matter how Jessica’s body flailed side to side, the spinning tickles always reached their targets. The small, handheld devices hummed loudly as the brushes spun, sending hundreds to tiny fibers each rushing against Jessica’s slick, delicate underarms. Jessica bucked against the altar as she screamed. Her voice boomed throughout the chamber, just as it had been for the prolonged session. It reached each of the pods and even graced the smirk of the devilish idol staring down at her ticklish suffering.

“FAAAAHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAACK!!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” Tears poured down the sides of Jessica’s face. Her hair flew about with each rapid shake of her head, becoming more and more tangled against her sweat-soaked skin. Her cheeks burned a bright rouge as her jaw pulsed with a deep, clenching ache. Mother and Father watched the girl flail and scream below them. They smiled, their sadistic design fueled by her explosive reactions.

“Glory in servitude,” Mother said, conducting her own chant. Her voice retained an unbothered pleasantness, an effect almost a taunt in of itself. Both Mother and Father brought their idle hands down to Jessica’s ribs. Their long fingers began to delicately pinch around each fragile ridge, their nails skittering over each supple stretch. More tickles poured through Jessica’s body. She flailed and laughed harder, her arms and legs viciously tugging at the binds holding her down.

“PLEEEEEAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHHAHAHAHAAA!!!!” Jessica’s voice began to peak. The combined tickles, surging from both sides of her body, clashed through her senses. They tore through her figure and mind alike, leaving her unable to think about anything beyond the tickles she was suffering. Memories of friends, details about her life, it was all melting away to the rush of tickles unyielding to her senses pleading for them to stop. The pleasure in being tickled was far replaced by exhaustion and the horrific imagining that the torment would never stop, a reality she had seen with her own eyes.

“Once we strain out every last toxic impression of the fallible world from where you hail, you will be reborn under the hand of Lord Gargalius,” Father said. Both he and Mother circled the brush deep into Jessica’s stretched armpits. The device whirred and rotated quickly, sending flurries of tickles against each sensitive spot by the second. They each angled their devices, studying to find the best position at which to elicit the most ticklish torment on their subject. Jessica’s body shifted uselessly in the cuffs holding her down. She gasped for air through her laughter while her eyes began to roll.

“OHHHHGGGAAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD!!! MAHAHAHAHAAKE IT STAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!!” Jessica shrieked. The fingers of her captors danced up and down the edges of her ribs, showing clearly from her stretched-out frame. Their nails pinched and scribbled across and in between each set. They raked and scratched and toyed with each stretch of ticklish ribs over and over again, riddling Jessica’s composure into ribbons. Jessica’ bellowed with deep, untamed laughter. Her bare chest wafted side to side. It bounced with each buck of her hips, tears pouring from her eyes collected into her rich, black hair.

“We have found such a gift for Lord Gargalius,” Mother said. “Sure this one’s surrender will please him into bestowing upon us all great luck and prosperity!” Her voice echoed as it praised up and over Jessica’s shrieking laughter. Her sycophantic display did nothing to deter her ticklish efforts. She and Father continued to run the spinning brush all over Jessica’s naked armpit while their fingers scoured all over both sets of ribs, scanning up and down and back again. The tickling came as a constant explosion of Jessica’s nerves, a series of eruptions that all melted into one perpetual, torturous experience. More of her mind began to leave her as she laid back, unable to think of anything other than the tickles or do anything outside of laughing.

“MYYYAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHGAHAHAHA!!! PLAAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!” Jessica’s head swirled in place. The whirring, mechanical tickles stormed in from both sides of her body at once. She twisted and pulled until her body could no longer manage the energy to move. All of her focus had funneled into simply enduring, a feat that she was becoming less sure that she could manage. Jessica had endured heavy tickles before, but what continued to present to her dwindling composure had far surpassed the conventional tickling experience. She huffed and groaned and fought against her own body’s will to faint. Jessica cried through the laughter. She bared her teeth to withstand the stimulus tearing through her, only to fall back into her endless cyclone of absolute hysteria.

“Your sacrifice pleases Lord Gargalius,” Father said, still smiling down with his crooked teeth. He withdrew his brush as Mother simply scaled hers down Jessica’s body. She was given little relief as the tickles from the brush continued, tracing across her ribs down toward her hips. Along Father’s way, he picked up another brush, testing it by quickly switching it on. Once he did, he left the device on and activated the other. He smiled as he walked down to the bottom of the altar. He positioned himself at her feet, aiming the brushes accordingly.

“Naaaaahahhhhhheheehehahahahaaoooo!!!” Jessica said, twisting as Mother’s brush swiped up and down her side. She shook her head only to let it fall back as she knew what a feeble attempt at mercy it was. Father and Mother giggled. They nodded to one another as Mother reached over Jessica’s body, her hand pinching at her alternate side. Father pressed both spinning brushes against Jessica’s trapped, bare soles, the bristles instantly ravishing the delicate and ticklish nerves throughout. Jessica’s body convulsed into a violent surge. She threw her head back as her lower back launched up off of the stone altar, an explosion of laughter erupting from her throat. “FAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHACKKK!!!”

“Enjoy the surrender, sweet Acolyte,” Mother said. She drove her brush deep against Jessica’s side. The bristles spun against the delicate outer layers of skin while the vibrations of the motor pulsed into the muscle, creating a dual effect of tickling throughout the area. Mother’s other hand stretched wide and pinched up and down the opposite side, as Father had done before. Jessica’s hips wiggled and pulsed. They shifted against Mother’s squeezing touch and the whirling brush. The tool traversed all over the slender side, gliding across the ticklish stretches glossed with sweat and warmth. Tickles seized through her midsection once more. They stormed through and collided into a single, devastating effect, leaving Jessica’s tired body bucking and tugging with diminishing energy.

“NAAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!” Jessica’s throat ran raw with the endless fits of screaming. She turned and writhed in place before falling back down against the slab of the altar, covered in her sweat. Father kept an eye on the squirming of her feet. He pressed both brushes against her arches, letting their spinning bristles work their insidious magic. Hundreds of fibers spun in rapid repetition, each gliding and sending perpetual streams of tickles against Jessica’s highly sensitive feet. No matter how Jessica wiggled or bent them in place, Father kept a close watch on both, making sure they each tasted the tickles of the brushes without interruption.

“Lord Gargalius will relish the feast of your surrender,” Father said, her smile still stretched across his lips. “Just as he will rejoice at the taste of your Relinquish, Acolyte Jessica.” A small strand of drool dropped from the corner of his mouth. He kept the spinning brushes locked onto Jessica’s soles, running them up and down from her heels to the bases of her toes. The bristles managed to weave in and around her toes with each pass, each digit consumed by the device and subjected to the fibrous, ticklish touch. Jessica’s screams of laughter became one with the air itself, humid and trickling the nearby candlelight. She thrashed as much as her dwindling energy would let her, her head falling to one side as laughter and tears spilled from her face.

“OHHHGAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD!!!” Jessica cried out. Her mind painted no image of an ending to her suffering. Her consciousness was trapped with the tickles of the present, just as tormented by their influence as her body. She felt as if she were becoming one with the tickles, that her body was nothing more than a vessel for ticklish torment and her mind challenged with the task of accepting her fate. She could only laugh. Laugh and wriggle against the hard, stone altar.

“Your laughter is delectable, dear Acolyte,” Mother said. She switched hands, working the device on the other side while her vacant fingers kneaded and scribbled against her side. The bristles worked over the new area with a fleeting sense of refreshed torment. Jessica groaned as the tickles fluttered in from both sides at once, leaving her midsection a wasteland for ticklish nerves. Mother viciously sank her frail fingers into the fragile skin. She gnawed and pinched while the brush whirled up and down, massaging the devilish fibers against her senses.

“You will come to love and appreciate what it means to praise Lord Gargalius,” Father said. His brushes spun without mercy up and down Jessica’s slick, supple soles. They attacked each ticklish nerve directly, traversing the same spots over and over again. Her feet had become consumed by the tickles posed by the brushes. Jessica fought desperately to shift them out of the way, if only for a moment of relief. Yet, Father’s persistence carried on, keeping each brush fixed on one sole as the tickles poured in.

“GNAAAAHHHJHHHGHJJAAAHH!!!! HHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” Words escaped Jessica’s mind. Her entire reality had become about enduring the tickles, despite longing for the mercy of faint for which she so wished. As her body continued to fight in the effort to withstand the torment, Mother and Father pulled the brushes back. The moment of relief was nearly lost on Jessica’s mind. Her head swam as her thoughts circulated her brain in shattered remains. Elements of who and where she was were steadily becoming more foggy. Her mind operated just enough to keep the girl awake. Her only hope would be that it would give out soon, the only escape from Mother and Father’s ticklish torment.

“You’re doing well, dear,” Mother said warmly. She and Father continued to smile down at her, despite Jessica’s vision having grown blurry behind the tears and fatigue. Her eyelids fluttered as her body could barely rest, her arms and legs plagued with intense ache at consistently pulling at their cuffs. Her heart pounded as Jessica fought to catch her breath, her temples clenching each every tapping beat.

“The early stages are always the hardest,” Father said with a warmth mirroring that of Mother. He returned to standing adjacent to Mother, who reached for a second brush of her own. Mother rose up toward Jessica’s head once more, staring down with the same skeletal sneer that never seemed to fade. Through her distorted vision, Jessica thought she had caught a glimpse of Mother’s face from beneath the hood. Her eyes were dark as strands of frail, gray hair hung down from a pasty, marginally bald head. Jessica’s eyes widened as Mother and Father both switched on their brushes.

“Glory in surrender,” Mother said, her toothy smile chattering with frail, almost vacant lips as she spoke. She and Father lowered their spinning brushes down against Jessica’s body one again. Father targeted Jessica’s slick, quivering stomach as Mother aimed hers onto the girl’s hardened nipples. Jessica had just enough time to shake her head before the tickles approaching in front of her very eyes unleashed their devastation in miserable tandem.

“OOOHHGGGAGGHHGGGHHGAGFSHHASHSJJSJJAAAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!” Jessica unleashed a sound unlike any laughter she had ever produced before. Her arms and legs shot out, her body almost flattening against the slab beneath her to try and escape the tickles pressed against her. She rocked back and forth as she screamed, tears streaming down her burning cheeks. Her stomach quivered against the brushes circling the soft, damp region. Father pressed the spinning brushes down against her tummy and roasted their position in constantly moving circles. He spanned their reach to encompass more and more of Jessica’s ticklish stomach, reducing her broken senses into unrecognizable splinters.

“Rejoice, Acolyte Jessica!” Father said. “Just as you slipped free, unable to wait for your turn to surrender, rejoice at the opportunity to serve your Lord!” The brushes massaged into the quivering ridges of her convulsing muscles. The bristles scraped over and over against each spot before moving to the next. Father placed one of the brushes right over Jessica’s navel, allowing the fibers to reach all around and inside the extremely ticklish dip. Jessica squealed, her teeth gnashing as her head pulsed and swirled with unending ticklish agony.

“You will spend hours and hours every day, privileged with the chance to surrender for Lord Gargalius!” Mother said. “Such a magnificent honor!” She let her brushes eat away at the heightened nerves around her quivering nipples. As her chest wafted and bucked with each fit of laughter, Mother made sure to keep the devices locked on to the supple dots. She circled them around the small, pink disks, letting the bristles lick away repeatedly against the nubs reaching up and out for their embrace. The tickles tore through what little remained of Jessica’s constitution. She flailed in place, her laughter having become more sobs and screams than anything else.

“NAAAAAGGHHJHHHHAAASSSHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!” Jessica screamed against a burning throat, using every last bit of her voice to endure the tickles. Her body thrashed to the best of its ability, but largely surrendered to the tickles in abject defeat. She could only laugh. Thoughts and memories no longer formed in the haze of her mind, her focus entirely on the tickles happening in the moment. Jessica felt reduced into a quivering husk of ticklish nerves unlike anything she had ever felt before. There was nothing she could do. Even the idea of enduring appeared impossible, and yet she outlasted every passing second in absolute ticklish misery.

“Let go of the falsehoods that you have been told,” Father said. “Surrender to the tickles, surrender to servitude, surrender to your new life’s purpose!” The man traced one of the brushes all over Jessica’s stomach. He painted every stretch of glistening skin with tickles, only to repeat on his ticklish canvass over and over again. He left the other brush ravaging the frail nerves in and around her navel. The fibers reached inside with every pass, swiping against the bottom and tender inner walls. Father smiled as he soaked in her laughter, savoring the sights of Jessica breaking before him.

“Love the feeling of praising your Lord,” Mother added. “This is what you were made for.” Her brushes rushed endlessly against Jessica’s breasts. They focused largely on her nipples, but would occasionally glide around the rest of the heaving mounds. The tickles exploded through her senses, as torturous as they were humiliating. Jessica screamed until her voice ran silent. The tickles raging against her nipples left her careening toward a gasping, aching end.

“NAAAHAHHAHHAHHHHEHEHHHHHAHAHHAHEEHEH!!! GAHHAHAHhahahahahahheheheeheeheee…..hhehehehhahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!” Jessica's laughter began to fade in and out. Her head pounded, her vision swirling before her. Air struggled to fill her lungs as quickly as she repelled it with laughter. Her body began to fall limp, her chest clenching. Jessica’s eyes stung and fluttered closed. Behind their lids, they rolled back into the girl’s head, the last moment of agony resonating as she succumbed to graceful and forgiving faint.

~~~

‘No idea how many weeks it’s been since I woke up here.

‘I have a vague estimation, but at the same time, it almost doesn’t seem to matter. It’s been made perfectly clear that I’m not getting out of here and no one is coming for me Which actually sounds worse than it is.

‘Mother has been really nice. She’s old and needs a lot of help around the house. I’m finally allowed out under certain regulations, but it's nice to stretch my legs a bit. She’s taught me all about her needs plus what she and father expect when it comes to chores. I don’t mind what they have me doing. Laundry is probably my least favorite. But the prod’s been brought out a couple of times to remind me not to complain. It hasn’t been brought out so much recently, so I know that I’m getting better.

‘Surrendering has been a daily occurrence. Of course, subjecting myself to tickles is probably my favorite part of all of this! It was hell at first, still is sometimes, but I’ve actually grown to like it again. It feels refreshing to be looking forward to a good tickle, even if it is in service to some strange idol. Mother and Father will get me all over and have shown me so many of their other bondage devices and tools! If I have to look on the bright side here, it’s actually been a lot of fun!

‘Tomorrow, they said that I’ll finally get to entertain the rest of the temple! I’ve been looking forward to this honestly since the day I read about it, getting tickled by all these strangers gets me squirmy already! I’m going to try my best to be as good as I can for each of them!

‘Have to go now though. Father is going to try out these special flossers. It’s going to suck, but… maybe not too, lol.

‘Jessica

(Acolyte)’