Up in the attic she doesn’t have a stitch of clothing on. She is standing on her tip toes in a crucifix position. Her wrists are secured with metal brackets to the cross beams just over her head. Her long black hair falls down around her shoulders. Unable to do nothing more than stand there she looks around her dark little area wondering what will come next. The whip marks from earlier that day clearly visible on her torso. She struggles to free her wrists but the metal is pressed to tightly on her flesh. Jr comes up the rickety stairs with a tall leather collar in his hands. He wraps it around her neck and buckles it tightly. Her tongue pushes out and her mouth is left agape. Within seconds her face grows fat and red. She finds it difficult to swallow. He takes a leather belt and wraps it around her ankles before cinching it tight. At this point she doesn’t even care, breathing is the most important thing on her mind...At least right now. Jr knows elise would rather be beaten senseless than to be tickled. Taking his hands he begins to run them gingerly down each side of her torso while speaking to her gently. She knows it’s coming and then suddenly he digs his fingers into her sides and works his way up and down, sometimes stopping in her arm pits for extra sensitivity. She screams out for him to stop. She begs to be beaten instead. She can’t catch her breath now and jr is digging so deep he leaves marks on her body. She pleads with him between gasps to stop. He does, just long enough to pick up a heavy wooden paddle and strike her squarely on the ass. The pain is so intense she abruptly shuts up, just for a moment, before letting out a scream that no one should have to endure. It causes large tears to fall from each eye socket. The pain so consuming she can’t even remember to swallow before cups of spit fall from her ungagged face hole. She tries to bounce herself up and down on tip toes to shake off the pain. Jr pulls a clear bag over her head before she has even had a chance to collect herself and ties it off around her neck. Immediately the plastic begins to collapse and expand with each desperate breath she takes. He strikes her again and she screams out in terror inside her little plastic environment. When she finally stops wailing jr ask her if that was better than being tickled. When she tells him yes between sobs he digs right into her sides with his fingers and starts a long drawn out tickling of her body. Her screams are so oppressive, so loud he finally has to stop, worried the authorities may be drawn to her siren of agony. She doesn’t know it, but jr is going to beat her until she ask him to tickle her.