Tickle Sayza until she talks.

You go get some rope, a wooden chair, a wooden stool and a feather duster. You tie Sayza to the chair with the rope, her bare feet propped up on the stool, and stand before her, holding the feather duster. She glares up at you, hating every moment of her humiliation at your hands. You grin down at her in the most patronising, irritating way possible.

"Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare. You absolute bastard, don't you try that on me."

"It's funny. You keep threatening me, but you can't actually make good on any of the threats, can you? Really I can do anything I want."

"No!"

"Like tickle you until you talk."

"Don't! Stop... ahahahahahaaaaaaa!"

You brush the feathers back and forth across her sensitive soles, attacking her arches and sliding them in between her toes. When you get tired of that you move up her legs to her inner thighs, tantalising her bare pussy, even stroking her **** little clit. You torment her ribs, play the feathers across her belly, circle around her breasts and flick them back and forth across her nipples. You even stimulate her neck. Sayza bucks and kicks and struggles and thrashes and wriggles and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs. When you're done with her neck you begin to move back down her body, aiming to finish with her feet. Though perhaps you'll linger a little longer on her pussy this time.

Only once Sayza's been tickled beyond endurance, driven half-mad by the infuriating dance of feathers across all her **** spots, do you give her a moment's rest. She pants and moans and blushes, her face red as a furnace, embarrassed and frustrated beyond anyone's ability to measure. You lean in, take hold of one of her breasts and say "Now, tell me where the amulet is or I'll do all that again."

"I... don't... know... what you're talking about... asshole..."

Guess she really doesn't know. Oh, well. This wasn't exactly a waste of time.