I was standing on the porch of the tavern. My hands were held above my head by rope bound to my wrists. Villagers were walking past on the street, turning their heads to look at me. Some of them were laughing, some of them had looks of pity. This is because I was completely naked.
I was crushed by my humiliation. Not just the humiliation of being naked in public - though the shame of that still pierced me - but the shame of being insulted. A villager had spoken to me, and on the basis of me being 'rude', he had dobbed me into my captor, who subject me to another spanking. Then he had come up to me and barraged me with insults, insisting I deserved everything that was happening to me.
I felt empty, except for the pain in my butt. Not a hint of pride to hold onto anymore. I stood on that porch, body and soul exposed to the world. I felt like everyone everywhere felt nothing but shame for me. I'd stopped crying hours ago because I'd simply run out of tears. This is who I was now; a vulnerable, naked, stupid, exposed woman. I wished I'd never burned down that fucking library. It was such a stupid, stupid mistake, and I was a stupid, stupid person for doing it.
My captor came out of the tavern. I looked down, too ashamed to look him in the eyes. He gently grasped my body and turned me to face the street; I did not resist. A crowd had gathered. It was three o'clock; time for my public tickle torture. He turned to me and gently stroked the very tip of his finger down my armpit. I gently gasped as I felt that spark of ticklishness, and despite my emptiness, an involuntary grin came over my face.
He nodded as if confirming something. Incredibly, I felt even more exposed than before. Actually getting tickled had put the sensation back in the forefront of my brain. I knew when he touched me again, it would tickle even more. I nervously shifted my weight from one foot to another. My breathing became sharper. I could feel the air pass over my armpits.
He stroked his finger down my other armpit. I screamed and jerked my shoulder. He then grabbed my shoulders and used his thumbs to tickle my armpits. The sensation was unbearable; I laughed long and hard and loud. Some of the villagers started laughing too - not out of being tickled, but because this was the funniest thing they'd seen. They saw the stupid little firebug was being punished and didn't like it, and they found that hilarious.
Eventually it's like my skin became inured to the feeling of being tickled. My laughter faded. My expression went blank. My captor took note of this and shifted both of his hands down to my belly, gently scratching at me like a spider walking across me, and I started up again. My body shook, but I kept as still as I could, knowing he would hold me steady anyway. I think he noticed this.
"Do her feet next!" cried out a voice from the crowd. My captor ignored him. He kept tickling for an excruciating amount of time. I laughed myself horse. Incredibly, more tears came. I was bleary and red-eyed. My body ached from shaking and I stomped the ground like a horse to try and endure the ticklish sensation. With time, the ticklish sensation became less strong. The laughter slowly disappaited.
"Her feet, man, her feet!"
My captor turned to him. "I am not a bard in your tavern. I don't take requests." This was the closest I'd heard to him being annoyed. This seemed to shut up the guy in the crowd. My captor then went lower and started tickling behind my knees. I was so shocked - both by the action and by how ticklish it turned out to be - that I shrieked. How long would this be going? How much more was I to endure? I giggled, snorted, cackled. My skin was so sensitive. This truly was torture.
"Please! Please stop!" I finally cried out. I couldn't take it any more. I knew he wouldn't stop, but I begged anyway.
"You want me to stop?" he asked authoritatively.
"Yes! YES! PLEASE!"
