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I dragged the prisoner along with me.
“It’s a good day for it!” she said cheerfully. I had a rope around her neck while her hands were tied behind her back. She was wearing a long, billowing, dark brown dress, as was the custom for women of her relatively high station. Not quite a lady, more important than a peasant. I had my theories that this rising mercantile class was what was behind a rising crime rate, as lowborn people making more money gave them the belief that they were free from responsibility for their actions. I suppose it didn’t matter.
This woman was Sabrina Barrow, and she was taking her arrest fairly cheerfully, all things considered. She was a plain-looking woman with an oval face, simple brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and the biggest smile I’d ever seen on a prisoner. I’m not sure she fully realised the weight of what was about to happen to her. But then, she was the daughter of a mitset – that is to say, her father had managed to make quite a bit of money as a businessman and, eventually, landlord. Perhaps she had been coddled from certain consequences.
As I pulled her through the town, she flashed her smile at people who smiled and waved back at her. She knew some of the townfolk here, because they called out her name, and she called out back to them. I saw some of them smirking, knowing something she didn’t. I found this interesting; I didn’t know the changes to the laws had become common knowledge, although seeing as how they didn’t call out to warn her, I expect they escort bursa were happy to see her punished.
I took her to the town centre. It was a large open street; most people built these houses with their own two hands. I specifically pulled her to the town hall – not much larger or grander than any other building on the street, surprisingly, but it had a porch, which served my purposes. A crowd gathered around as I turned her around and untied her wrists.
“This is a very strange punishment. I thought you were taking me to jail?”
I then retied them in front of her, then tied another rope around that, tossed it over a support beam, and pulled.
“Ouch!” she laughed. “I can hang around here if you want, sir!”
“From now on, be quiet.”
“Okey dokey.”
“That counts as speaking. That will matter later.”
She was puzzled, but silent. I turned to the crowd.
“Ladies and gentleman. This is Sabrina Barrow, arrested for the following crimes: theft. Grand theft. Fraud. For this crime, her punishment will be to be stripped naked and publicly tickled for no less than five minutes.”
“What?!” she bellowed. “You can’t do this! You can’t do this!”
“And for every word she speaks, one more minute of tickling will be added. She is currently up to fifteen minutes.”
“Noooooooooo!”
“Sixteen minutes.”
The crowd had broken into laughter. Some pointed and jeered. They were a sadistic crowd, hungry for her humiliation, and she’d already supplied görükle escort them with so much. Her face turned red and she looked around as if in a panic. I took out a pair of large scissors and she shifted from red to white.
“No! No!”
“Eighteen minutes.”
She clamped her mouth shut. I put the scissors into her dress’s neckhole and began cutting. They made a loud SNIP! SNIP! sound as I cut. She began to cry with fear. Already the punishment was landing. I cut far enough down that I could start tearing the dress right off, revealing her bouncing, young breasts. She had been using a fancy new binder to hold them down, but they burst out, large and soft. Her figure was more shapely than one would have guessed from her outfit; she was clearly shy about her body and tried to hide her assets, especially if the squeal she made was anything to go by. The audience hooted and hollered at the sight of her body. They whistled when they saw her patch of pubic hair.
“Whoo! Who knew Sabrina was hiding that figure under there?”
I tossed her ruined dress aside, and she tried covering up by crossing her legs and pulling on the rope (no chance – she was stuck in place). I took out my little clockwork alarm and wound it to eighteen minutes. She shook her head, silently begging me as I moved towards her. I ignored that and began lightly scratching under her armpits.
She bellowed out a laugh immediately, her face contorted in fear and horror as well as her open, laughing mouth. Her skin was soft to the touch. Her body shook and jiggled as she laughed. She pulled her head back as she laughed, as if that would free her from the nightmare she was in. She looked so vulnerable and naked.
“Oh! Hahahahaha! Ahhhhhh! Hahahahaha!”
I looked upon her with cool indifference. Punishing these women was my job; sometimes their outrage was funny, with their shock that their actions could have cascading, terrible, humiliating consequences, but for the most part I went about it in a businesslike way. It nice seeing a beautiful woman naked, but you have to focus on the task at hand.
She started finding her space. When you tickle a naked woman in the same place for too long, she starts to get used to it; it’s still very uncomfortable for her, but she can ‘handle’ it. This is when I switch to her belly. Sabrina reacted with shock, as if I didn’t have any space to move onto, and that I admit I found very funny, though I worked not to show it on my face. She descended into another fit of giggles, sparking a big reaction from the crowd.
“Ha ha ha! Look at Sabrina go!”
She looked up at me with fury, giggling uncontrollably as I softly tickled her belly. I felt an intense sense of power that I channelled into keeping my face blank. It made me more intimidating, to appear in total control of myself, and I deeply enjoy that part. Tears were falling down her face as the shame overtook her. She had lost, she had lost badly, and she hadn’t expected to lose. The worst part for her had to be not knowing how much time had passed, or how much she had to go. She was stuck in a hell of her own making, and I was facilitating it. That must have been the longest eighteen minutes of her life.
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