A Terminally Bored Goth Enters

You struggle half-heartedly with your bondage while drool pools up around the massive gag in your mouth, running embarrassingly down your chin and onto your rope-imprisoned chest, but all your fidgeting just seems to tighten the ropes pinning you to the chair, or jostle the bells dangling from the clamps biting into your nipples.

Just then, a pale woman with jet-black, psychobilly hair pushes through the double-doors in front of you. She looks to be around your age, dressed in tight dark clothing, with thickly soled, glossy black, knee-high paratrooper boots. Seeing you in your current predicament, she stifles a shocked laugh.

Wow, okaaaay," the woman says, eying you uncomfortably while she glances around the room. "I guess I go through these doors?"

You strain fitfully, imploring her to ungag and untie you, but the massive ball between your teeth reduces your pleas to incomprehensible, drool-soaked blubbering.

"The Room That Cannot Be Empty," the goth reads, noticing the sign above you. "What's that all about?"

You grow frustrated with the woman's disinterested pace of exploration, and demand with increasing anger to be freed. And while the tone is apparent, the grunts and mmpphs themselves aren't particularly intimidating.

"So you're like a clue, or something?" the goth wonders aloud, slowly circling your chair. "Or just a decoration?"

"Or a game?" she wonders, the tone of her voices taking on an ominous shade. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her withdraw a long, stiff feather from somewhere behind the chair. Your blood chills immediately with a slight shiver, your nipples stiffen and goose bumps rise on your skin. You're _extremely _ticklish, you remember with horror.

"Hmmmm" the woman wonders, tapping the feather pensively against her chin in front of you. You shake your head no, imploring her, as well as you can manage, to untie you instead ...