"Me hace cosquillas!"

“Sitri! Get me out of here!”

The police station in this little town in the South of France, which is named Saint-Culottes, is built into the old medieval fortifications around the harbour. That means the cell under it is an actual, real medieval dungeon.

Arabella is down in the dungeon.

She and the other six captive girls are shackled to the stone walls, languishing behind bars, all still in the nude and forced to share an intimately small space. Torture devices everywhere give a hint of how they’ve spent their evening. You see a bondage rack, a couple of gibbets, a wooden horse. Also plenty of more modern toys, like vibrators and floggers and so on.

“What’s the matter, Arabella? I thought you’d been doing this for three hundred years.”

The captive girls squirm and try to shuffle away from you and Meg. You stand on the other side of the cell bars, politely ogling the damsels in distress, as Meg smirks down at the bound and furious blonde witch. “Just use one of the Seven Squeals of Power! Teleport yourself out of here!”

“It’s not working! Don’t you think I tried that, you bitch?”

“Fascinating. Sitri, can you think of any reason Arabella’s magic wouldn’t be working?”

“Planets are probably misaligned,” you shrug, and phase between the bars to confront the captives more directly. “So, Arabella, are you ready to surrender the Key Of Sheba?”

“Never, you bastard! I’ll see you in Hell first!”

“That can be arranged.”

“Wait, what?” says Meg. “What’s the Key Of Sheba?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? Arabella stole a grimoire from Hell’s Red Reading Room centuries ago. Tricked me into helping her. I’ve been scheming revenge ever since, but I’ve never been able to break through all her magical defenses. Until now. That vanishing bikini distracted her for the split second I needed to reach into her soul and turn off all her powers.”

“SITRI! YOU DICK!”

“That’s right, Arabella. I was setting you up the whole time! Hahahahaha!”

“Excuse me,” says the suntanned Spanish girl, whose name is Inez, and who’s shackled to the wall next to Arabella. “Sorry, can I ask a question? Is magic real?”

“Yes.”

“What about Hell?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, it’s sexy.”

“Oh, that is so interesting! Um, but it sounds like I’m just collateral damage in the feud you have with this American girl. I don’t have anything to do with it, so would you mind letting me go, please… HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! DON’T TOUCH ME THERE! STOP!”

You have taken a small vial out of the pocket of your suit, and tipped a small quantity of shimmering multi-colored powder into the palm of your hand. Now, you’re slowly massaging it bare-handed into Inez’ small breasts, feeling her nipples stiffen under your palms. She shrieks and kicks at you, but she’s shackled to the wall, so she can’t get away.

“Tickle-prickle powder,” you explain, as a sensation like a thousand tiny tickling pixie fingers begins to dance over Inez’ sun-kissed titties. You tip out more powder, and begin to slowly rub it into Inez’ clean-shaven nut-brown pussy, parting her lips with your fingers so you can get it deep inside her. “The thing you have to remember, Inez, is that I’m really evil.”

“ME HACE COSQUILLAS! JAJAJAJAJA!”

“Now, who’s next?”

The seven nude captives despise the indignity of having a handsome stranger freely fondle their bodies, and they despise the intense tickling sensation in their most sensitive spots even more. But there’s nothing they can do about it! How evil! You go from girl to girl, nonchalantly groping them, laughing at their helplessness, saving Arabella for last. She scowls up at you as you pour out an extra-strong dose of the powder, and take her perky strawberries-and-cream breasts in your hands.

“Nice boobies, Arabella. How does it feel to know I own them?”

“You own nothing, you… you… you scoundrel!” Arabella sometimes reverts to seventeenth-century insults when she’s angry. “You’ll never get the Key!”

“Well, you say that.”

You take your time expertly toying with Arabella’s trembling body, stroking her breasts and caressing every intimate fold of her wet pussy until you can tell from her heavy breathing that, despite herself, she’s on the verge of a crashing orgasm. You’ve been her lover for a long time, and know exactly how to touch her. Then, just before she can come, you stand back and let the tickle-prickle powder do its work.

“EEEAAAHH! SITRI! COME… COME BACK?”

“What was that, Arabella? You want me to touch you? Me? A demon, who you hate?”

“I… NO… BUT… IIIIEEEK! EEAHAHAHA!” The tickling is edging Arabella, keeping her in exquisite agony on just the wrong side of her orgasm. Just the way you want it. She thrashes and squirms in her bonds, rubbing up against Inez, who’s in the same position. All seven girls are desperate for escape, trapped in exquisite torment as the powder does its naughty work.

“Too loud,” says Meg, listening to the squealing. “Can’t we do something about it?”

“Sure.” With a snap of your fingers, seven bright red ball gags appear in the mouths of the seven bound naked tickled girls, denying them even the mercy of being able to vent their feelings. All that sexual stress and tickle-torture tension is trapped in their bodies now, with nowhere to go.

You stand back with your arm around Meg and fondly regard your work. Seven pretty nude red-faced girls, wriggling in their shackles, breasts jiggling, angry beyond belief as their bodies are turned into vulnerable playthings for a stranger’s entertainment. It’s pretty cute. Meg takes a short video on her cell phone, just to remember the moment.

“Okay,” she says, cuddling up to you and giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go get dinner. That seafood place down by the harbour looked pretty good.”

“Works for me. Bye, girls. See you in the morning.”

And all the lights go out. Leaving Arabella and the other captives bound and gagged in total darkness, with nothing to distract them from the million fairy fingers still tantalizing their hyper-sensitive nipples and clits. It’s going to be a very long night.