Endure the punishment.

I'm trapped in the mud with my panties down, my pussy and bare ass on display, being switched and made to look like a complete fucking idiot in front of hundreds of swarming, giggling pixies. The only way this can get any more embarrassing is if...

Yes. Here it comes.

The pixies' scissors appear to be made from crystallised leaves, but they're still sharp enough to cut all the clothes from my body in only a few precise strokes. I toss and turn, trying to fend them off, but it doesn't seem to deter them even a little. They're agile enough not to nick my skin even slightly. I'm too busy being humiliated to feel grateful.

Once they're done spanking me, the feathers come out.

I squirm and struggle as they descend on me. It's no use. I can't get away. They start by teasing my neck with the feathers, making me wiggle my head from side to side in a **** attempt to dislodge them. It doesn't work. They giggle and mock my helplessness in tiny pixie voices as they locate my other ticklish spots - my sides, my inner thighs, the backs of the knees, my nipples. Each is slowly, carefully teased and stroked. The sensation is unbearable, but I have **** but to grit my teeth and bear it.

The last pixie settles itself directly over my pussy. Its feather begins to trace circles over my clit. There's a long, foreboding pause. Then some invisible signal goes around and they all begin to tickle me all at once, redoubling their efforts, seemingly intent on driving me mad. I kick and thrash and squeal into my panty-gag. It only serves to emphasise my vulnerability.

My tickle **** goes on and on and on. The feathers at my nipples and clit almost bring me to orgasm several times, but I'm never quite allowed to get there. The pixies always pull away just before I'm able to cum, leaving me gasping and **** for release. They seem determined to ensure I'm left without even a shred of dignity to call my own. By the time they're done I'm on fire with shame and arousal, exhausted by the exertion of laughing and trying to pull away. As I watch them flutter off, all I can think about is how badly I want them to come back and finish the job.

But no such luck. I'm left to dangle helplessly for what seems like hours before I finally manage to get the ropes free. Even then, I'm still stuck in the swamp, and no longer totally sure where the edge of the water is. By the time I'm finally make it out of the forest I'm exhausted, and smeared with mud from head to toe. I know the adventure is over. There's only one place to go now and, unfortunately, I don't have any clothes to get me there. I steel myself for the walk of shame ahead of me.