nails. Then Regina fathomed the true meaning of terror when she felt
Madame Petrushka move past her bikini bottom and place her nails on her
abdomen. "No," she pleaded, but before she could say anything else,
laughter erupted from the bottom of her soul as all ten nails suddenly
rippled from her belly button to her sides, then back again. She screamed
and thrashed and arched her back to escape, but there was no mercy. After
a minute, the torture abated until Madame Petrushka was only using one
nail from each hand along her ribs. Between giggles, Regina said, "That
tickles." The understatement of the year, she realized as soon as she
said it.
"Of course it does, Miss Regina," Madame Petrushka said kindly. "Of
course it does." Then she rippled all five nails up and down her ribs,
poking and prodding, never repeating the same pattern. This went on for
several minutes until Regina's struggles and screams were growing weak.
Then only two nails quietly worked until Regina's breathing slowed down.
But Madame Petrushka never stopped entirely. She would keep it up just
enough to ensure that Regina was always giggling, if just a little.
Madame Petrushka reached up to where Regina's hands were clamped tight,
and for a moment she thought she would be released. But that was not to
be. The nails, with their insidious rippling motion, began working from
her trapped wrists down her forearms.
Regina moaned with anguish as she realized what was going to happen. As
the nails reached the inside of her elbow, she knew that her torturer was
indeed an expert and was going to draw this out; Madame Petrushka fully
understood what was going through Regina's mind. Down the inside of her
biceps, the nails travelled, rippling and moving back and forth in a
random pattern, but moving steadily downward just the same. Her entire
body tensed against the coming onslaught, but right before the nails
reached her exposed underarms, they moved to her shoulders instead, and
down her back.
Regina let out her breath, not knowing until then she had been holding it.
Her head sank and her eyes closed as the tension left. She had been
spared the worst torture of all. But one small part of her felt
disappointed. What would it have been like to have those nails?--"
She screeched and opened her eyes when Madame Petrushka grasped her left
shoulder with one hand, and touched her bare underarm with one nail from
the other. The tension came back as she waited for the nail to move, to
torture her, to be joined by the others. She looked into Madame
Petrushka's eyes and saw understanding. The nail lifted and stroked from
the top of her underarm to the bottom. Regina squealed and tried to pull
her hands free. The nail returned to its resting place in the center of
her underarm.
"Yes," cooed Madame Petrushka. Then she stroked downward again, and again
Regina tried to pull her arms down. More slowly Madame Petrushka repeated
the maneuver, causing Regina to laugh and attempt to twist away from the
torturing nail. "Just one little nail, Miss Regina. It's just one nail,
and you know what's coming, don't you?"
"Yes, Madame Petrushka," she giggled, although she didn't see any humor in
it.
Like lightning, all five nails went to work on her bare underarm, then it
stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Regina laughed for several seconds
after it had stopped and the one nail had returned to its spot.
"Tell me, young lady, what do you want right now more than anything in the
world?"
"To have my arms released."
"Wrong answer," and the nails attacked again for longer this time. The
screaming and laughing was deafening. After the torture stopped, Madame
Petrushka repeated the question.
"For you to stop torturing me."
"Wrong again." With that, Madame Petrushka went to the other underarm and
worked for several minutes. During the ordeal, Regina tried to give a
different answer, but was unable to finish a sentence without screaming.