Tickled and Tormented by the Evil Clown (Merciless Treatment in Helpless Bondage): A BDSM Horror Erotica Story

You walk down the hallway, scared and alone. You know there’s a monster out there waiting to get you, and it’s terrifying. You don’t know when it will strike, and you don’t know if you’ll be able to escape. You know it’s dark. You know it’s dark and you know it’s cold and you know you see scary things in the blackness as you travel down the underground hallway. If he catches you, you know you’ll be in trouble. He wants more than just to scare you. If the clown finds you, he will take you completely. You know you’ll laugh, but you’ll laugh because he’ll make you. He’ll tickle you. He’ll find your ticklish spots and make you.

Warning: This ebook contains very explicit images, some of which are of a dark and disturbing nature. It includes tickling, BDSM, bondage, humiliation, rough sex, and more. Only mature adults who won’t find that offensive should read this story.

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“You thought you’d get away, didn’t you?” he whispers.
The voice is chilling. It’s not that he spoke with power and intensity, but the exact opposite. The whisper is so soft-spoken, and the contrast between what sounds almost like a kindly voice and the image before you is so terrifying that your mind reels.
“P-please!” you cry, softly, not with volume, but nonetheless it is a cry that comes very much from deep within you. “Please! Please don’t hurt me!”
There’s none of the softness in his voice when he replies with a laugh. The laugh holds no mirth, only menace, and you feel yourself terrified.
“Why in the world”—the soft voice has returned now—“why in the world would I deny myself the opportunity to hurt you?”
As if to punctuate the words, he reaches forward, puts his fingers over your nipple, and squeezes hard. You cry out, and then you find yourself angry.
“Leave me alone!”
He laughs again. He laughs, and his eyes grow darker. “So,” he says, “there’s still some fight in you. That’s good. What will you give me if I let you go?”
You didn’t expect the question. You didn’t expect the question, and you certainly didn’t expect to be tied to a St. Andrew’s cross looking at a clown that seemed to be designed to inspire fear.
“Anything! Anything!” you say.
He smiles, and the smile is twisted and cruel and evil, and you can see the red lipstick right below the white makeup, right below the black outline, and the entire picture is so damn terrifying that you find your breath leaving you.
“Anything!” you scream. “Anything!”
“Ah. Well, then,” he says, “I think I shall have you. I think I shall put my clown dick in that pretty little pussy of yours. How does that sound?”
“No! No!” You say it involuntarily before you can even think.
He smiles. “Oh, yes. You told me anything.”
“No! No!”
Suddenly, he reaches forward. You think he’s going to attack you and you flinch, but of course you can’t escape when your arms are up there. His hands are suddenly both on you, softly, ticklingly moving over your sides.
You walked down the hallway terrified that there were spiders, and it seems now as his fingertips move along your sides, just from directly under your underarms all the way down to your waist and then back up, that those spiders are crawling over you. The sensations are so tiny, but you know more can come at any moment, and there’s something terrifying about that.
“I said I will have you,” he says.
You giggle.
You don’t want to but you giggle.