Tickle Her!

Ignoring her demands, you tickle-attack the restrained woman with vigor! Starting at her neck, you lightly prod and wiggle your fingers over her taught skin. She shrieks and convulses, what little she can, pressing her chin hopelessly into her spit-glossy chest. Every movement sets the bells on her nipple clamps jingling, as gravity tugs teasingly at her per nipples.

You lean closer, directing your ticklish **** at her smooth underarms and well-muscled sides. As you do, you notice the stone-grinding noise is coming from a trap door in the floor just behind the chair. It's opening, revealing a thin, glowing red sliver of light below. The stone moves almost imperceptibly slowly.

The woman is laughing and squealing mindlessly, as your dancing digits move down her sides, and over her stomach and belly-button. All the while you can hear the faint grinding of stone. The portal opens further, beginning to bathe the opposite wall in warm, rosy light.

You move from her hips to her thighs, down her legs to her arched feet and her long, athletic toes: painstakingly pedicured, a single silver ring on the middle toe of her left foot.

Sensing what's coming, the woman fights through her screams of laughter, panting:

"Not my feet!" She shouts, breathlessly. "Please anything but my feet!"

You glance under the chair at the red square of light in the floor. It _might _be large enough for you to squeeze through, if you wanted to spare the woman more tickling. And now you have some leverage if you wanted to interrogate her further ...