Margarita sat in the stocks for the first time, her ankles were locked down, her soles exposed, soft and flawless, like they’d never been touched. Her laugh broke out instantly, loud and wild, like it had been waiting for permission to take over. And when the tools came out; the brush, the glove, the electric hum of something designed to test her limits—she didn’t stand a chance. Her toes curled, her arches flexed, and her whole body shook with a desperation that made it clear: Margarita wasn’t just ticklish; she was too ticklish.

Margarita sat in the stocks for the first time, her ankles were locked down, her soles exposed, soft and flawless, like they’d never been touched. Her laugh broke out instantly, loud and wild, like it had been waiting for permission to take over. And when the tools came out; the brush, the glove, the electric hum of something designed to test her limits—she didn’t stand a chance. Her toes curled, her arches flexed, and her whole body shook with a desperation that made it clear: Margarita wasn’t just ticklish; she was too ticklish.