Marilyn's ordeal

Marilyn walked down the dark street; she was almost home. It was a cold November night. She was heavily bundled in her winter clothes—long jacket, warm pants, heavy boots—appropriate for the weather. She opened her mouth to yawn, but was suddenly cut short by a heavy hand grasping over her mouth. The girl shook and struggled.

“N-nmm! Leh mm ghh!” She struggled, trying to break free of the grasp. She felt herself being dragged back, and the shot of a needle softly piercing her arm. She let out a scream of pain, and eventually started to drift off into a deep sleep...

Marilyn woke up in a dimly lit room. There was one light, coming from directly above her. She attempted to move, but—she was tied down by metal cuffs!  She started to panic, pulling her arms and legs against the restraints. She looked around, noticing that her coat and boots were placed on the ground, to the side of the table. She was dressed in a school girl’s uniform; as she was in high school.

“Hel-hello? Wh-where am I, someone, please, help me!” As soon the words passed her lips, she heard footsteps, presumably coming toward her.

“Hello, criminal,” A woman said, sounding stern.

“Crimi- wait, what?!” Marilyn looked for a face to identify, but could only make out a silhouette.

“You were trespassing on my property, girl. You’re a criminal.”

“I’m... I’m not..! It was… it was just a sidewalk..!” The woman smiled at this, approaching her face. As Marilyn looked up, she saw that the woman was wearing glasses, hiding her eyes. She was dressed in a long, white fur coat, and long, brown boots. There was a red flower pin attached to the woman’s coat pocket. She smiled deviously, as she wrapped a piece of cloth—a makeshift blindfold—around poor Marilyn’s eyes. The girl was breathing heavily, and her body shaking. After a few seconds of silence, Marilyn broke it. With laughter. The woman was swirling and twirling her fingers on Marilyn’s upper section—under her arms, her ribs, et cetera.

“A—Ahahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! Wh-waihi-Ahahahahaha-waiit!” Marilyn struggled to speak through abundant laughter. She was very ticklish—a weakness which her friends used to tease her quite a bit. The woman continued her ticklish assault on Marilyn’s upper body, eventually moving to her stomach, and the sides of her stomach.

“Ah-HAHAHAHahAHAhahaHAHAHAHAHA!! PL-p-pleASEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The tickling was really getting to Marilyn; she couldn't stand her body being touched in any way. It became even worse when the woman slipped her fingers under Marilyn’s shirt, tickling the bare skin of her stomach’s sides. She couldn’t bear this, as her reactions jolted up a notch.

“AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAAA! EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! NO-NO—AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
The woman’s fingers could only be described as bothersome. They would be skittering on her body one second, and be off the next. As the woman stopped tickling the top of Marilyn’s body, as she began moving down to her lower half. The woman started to slip Marilyn’s socks off of her feet.

“N-NO!! N-No, please, I’m SORRY!!”  Marilyn’s cries were plentiful, but fell upon deaf ears. Her slender, pale, size 11 feet were revealed. They were long, and had slim toes. They had no nail polish, and were very clean. The woman laughed.
“I’m impressed; these are some beautiful feet,” she said, stroking down them very gently. This created a wonderful reaction from poor, shivering Marilyn.

“Ahahahahahahahahahaha!” She roared with laughter at this stimulation. Her toes were stretching, trying to get out of the woman’s reach.

“No, no, you can’t escape, you criminal.” She started to scrape her fingernails on each of the girl’s defenseless toes.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The girl’s eyes shot open, and she laughed harder than ever before. Her toes were her worst spots of all. The woman noticed this, and quickly tickled much faster on her toes. Marilyn was in agony. She couldn't stop laughing, as much as she wanted to. She began to have trouble breathing, due to the heavy tickle torture. Her face was flushed red, and tears streamed down her crimson cheeks. She began to get dizzy, eventually laughing herself to sleep.

Marilyn woke up sometime later. She rubbed her tired eyes, looking around. This… was her room—her bed, her floor, her computer, everything was here. This was unbelievable! She was home; free from that prison where her torture had taken place.

“Could this have… been a dream?” She said to herself.

“It felt so real… It had to be...”

She sat up, and eventually stood up, with enough effort. She heard something metal fall on the ground—a red flower pin—a statement saying to the poor girl that she was right. This did happen.