DO NOT ENTER!

Welcome to the state hospital for the ticklishly insane where loss of mind is encouraged Re Est July 2025 M | 30s | Taken | MDNI | NSFW

[tickleasylum]

The Warden returns!

Answering the ghostly calls to return to this world and haunt the lot of you!

This is an NSFW only blog, I respect SFW but it's not for me and I have my reasons for this due to past experiences, having said that I shan't preclude anyone other than minors from interacting.

Though tickling is at the core of this blog, what surrounds it are a variety of other kinks/fetishes that include but are not limited to the following;

Feet

CNC

Medical

Sadomasochism

Bondage

Kidnap/entrapment/imprisonment

Forced orgasms

Edging/denial

Torture

If any of these interest you then Welcome to the Asylum! I hope I can satisfy your dark desires.

If any of this makes you feel truly unsafe, triggered or dredges up past trauma then I encourage you to block immediately!

For anyone unaware of what the asylum is, it represents my tickling world and the Warden is the hungry soul torturing tickle demon that inhabits it.

***I appreciate many out there will take issue with the theme of this blog however it is in no way designed to cause offence or upset to those dealing with any mental health challenges***

Things to note;

This blog is primarily for my writing and so may seem dormant for long periods if life is lifeing.

DMs are currently for mutuals only as a means of protecting my personal peace, this "community" is going to the dogs and so I've decided to inhabit a small dark corner and largely ignore the wider tickling world, with that in mind asks and submissions are also turned off.

Given I inhabit this blog as a character, some of you may be interested in following my secondary, @filthsville, where I'm more myself and explore my wider sexual tastes. For a different feel entirely, why not drop on by @ticklesville for a light stroll among the softer side of my tickle obsession.

I'm insanely busy in real life and may not always respond!

[tickleasylum]

Cathy's Journal Part iii

***!!WARNING!! What follows may contain content some may find offensive or difficult to read. This story involves bondage, vaginal focused tickling, sadism, edging and denial and a medical theme that some may find distressing. Discretion is advised***

My fingers, soaked in my juices, glide easily over my glistening pussy as I slowly edge myself to this recounting, through the wall I can hear the all familiar sound of one of my new colleagues doing the same... I wonder if W would be pleased knowing his staff loudly get themselves off to the sadistic treatment they deliver to the patients... Maybe he's watching now... The thought makes my pussy clench at the potential voyeurism and I slow my teasing with a lip bite, I want to make this last...

Anyway back to it...

****

The doctor looks upon Chloe with a warmth as his gloved hand stroke her blonde hair.

"So Chloe, if you want to cum... All you've gotta do is keep your body temperature down, simple huh?"

I imagine an evil smirk forms behind his mask as Chloe suddenly finds some fight and loudly protests through her gag, a fight that soon dissolves as the second doctor proceeds to paint her exposed pussy with the substance coated brush, making sure to lightly spin the bristles over her clit. From my position I see her eyes roll into the back of her head and her chest heaves within the jacket, her toes curling tight making her soles wrinkle.

The lead doctor turns and addresses the onlookers directly again;

"There is a pad on the desk in front of each of you, place your hands within the outlines and keep them there"

Nervously we all do as we're told, my small hands fitting easily within the shaped outlines.

"The pads will measure your reactions and will be activated in a few seconds, if you fail to keep your hands in position you will be removed from the room, if the pads turn red, you will be removed from the room".

After a couple of seconds, the pads activate and glow a pulsing green, one by one the colours begin to slowly vary.

A shout from the back echoes around the auditorium.

"NO! No no please please no!"

I turn when I hear loud footsteps thud towards a male participant at the back, a scuffle breaks as they're hauled from their seat by a guard, their pad glows red. My heart races as I realise the rules of this game, the rules we have no control over. Our bodies will betray us and the pad will detect the truth...

As the failure is led from the room under protest, we each turn our attention back to Chloe.

The second doctor has completed coating her pussy but still the strokes continue, her moans beginning to fill the room as she struggles in her restraints, her toes curling, relaxing, curling again. Her eyes are welded closed. If I were her I'd be desperate to cum before her body activates the chemical and inhibits release, though if they continued after orgasm the over stimulation would be torture in itself. The poor thing must be terribly conflicted.

Despite my internal acknowledgement of the victims suffering, I can't deny the complete lack of empathy. Instead, I'm filled with an almost worrying level of jealousy of the two doctors able to administer such sadistic treatment. As I watch one continuing the torturous brush strokes and the other still stroking their victims hair, I feel my own arousal climb and I squeeze my thighs together, feeling the heat radiating from my horny pussy, my panties moist at the images my eyes hungrily drink in.

Finally the brushing stops and her eyes slowly open, her legs shaking as she relaxes from her tension. Her pussy drips and a mixture of her juices and the substance pools on the tiled floor.

The lead now moves to the table and picks up the wand.

"Let's see if she's been successful shall we?"

He turns and brandishes the wand at the blonde (hey that rhymes) and her eyes widen with a mix of fear and hope, did she just nod...?

Turning it on to its lowest setting, he gently places it directly on her glistening clit and holds it in place. She immediately jumps and curls her toes as she moans and starts to breathe heavy, the approach of an orgasm, unmistakable.

"Well it's looking promising..."

Turning up further till the buzz reverberates around the auditorium, Chloe moans louder and louder, her release all but certain until...

Suddenly her eyes open and she begins to protest desperately, her body tenses and relaxes repeatedly as she suddenly hits the edge of orgasm but is kept from achieving it. Her toes and feet curl tight as she desperately tries to force herself to no avail. Her head shaking back and forth wildly, her blonde hair tossed from side to side and across her face as she angrily begins to realise she's failed. Her body shudders as she sobs and the wand is removed.

"Oh... I guess not"

[tickleasylum]

Cathy's Journal Part ii

***!!WARNING!! What follows may contain content some may find offensive or difficult to read. This story involves bondage, vaginal focused tickling, sadism, kidnap and a medical theme that some may find distressing. Discretion is advised***

I lie here writing this in my staff quarters.

My 50s sky blue nurse inspired uniform skirt is hitched up, my black opaque stocking clad legs are spread wide with my panties pushed down and wrapped around one ankle, I toy with my soaked horny pussy teasingly between paragraphs as I relive what we've all just witnessed on our induction...

Some hours ago we got our introduction to W.

I can't write what he said through fear of the consequences as this place is highly secretive.

In short, he welcomed us all and how we were chosen based on various traits found within us through close monitoring, I think he used the word "clandestine" which means done in secret.

Anyway, after a brief introduction, he explained our induction would now involve witnessing an example of what this place does and our reactions would be analysed by cameras on the wall.

****

As he spoke, some staff emerged from a double door at the back of the auditorium wheeling in what appeared to be a gynecological exam chair into position in front of us and standing either side of it in silence. The staff were dressed in white aprons and scrubs with white gym slip style shoes, their facial features hidden by surgical mask and a cap conceals their hair.

The chair was reclined at 45 degrees and its legs were opened much wider than a standard one.

For now it remained empty and I for one was suddenly nervous that they may look for a volunteer. Looking around I wondered if everyone else was feeling the same.

When he finished, a nurse, dressed the same as me, emerged from the double doors behind pushing a wheel chair, in which, sat a hooded figure naked from the waist down but totally enclosed in a straightjacket. We could see her shaking and struggling in the jacket as she's held tight to the chair with restraints.

In a well choreographed display of handling, the 2 white clad "doctors" professionally removed the restraints and, before the figure could do anything about it, hoisted her into the chair, her bare feet dangling from the stirrups as they quickly restrain her legs wide apart and wrap her torso with thick belts holding her in place.

The fabric of the hood quivered as she breathed heavily, terrified. How she must feel being manhandled and spread wide on display for all to see. She instinctively tries to draw her thighs closed and her legs tense, toes curling. A display of self defence for what she thinks is coming.

My eyes couldn't help but fall to between her legs.

The area neatly shaved and it became clear this was to be the focus of whatever they were going to do...

The nurse returned wheeling in a surgical trolley covered by green paper. Like the doctors, her face also covered by a mask but her eyes took on this dead and empty stare as she carried out her duties.

The paper was removed to reveal an assortment of torturous looking instruments.

Feathers, brushes, oil, a drill with a brush attachment, further restraints and a wand vibrator from what I could see from my position.

The nurse took up a position by the trolley, her hands clasped at her front, feet together. Her black Mary Janes glinting in the auditorium lights, a sheen on her black stockinged legs.

One doctor approached the table and silently picked up 2 round leather shackles with small belts hanging from them, at the end of which dangled steel clamps. Handing one to their colleague they each began fixing the shackles around the upper thighs of their victim and adjusted till the clamps dangled between her legs.

My heart raced as I realised what they were for.

One by one the clamps were applied to the captives labia which made her jolt and struggle as her pussy was forced to spread open.

Witnessing this made me shift in my position on the bench tiered seating which curved around the room. In doing so I realised just how wet I'd become at the sight before us.

In silence, the doctor went back to the table and picked up a jar of oil and a thick makeup looking brush.

Holding it up he announced;

"Hypsense X 2377, developed by our resident mad scientist"

The subject immediately started struggling at his words and the bag fluttered wildly as if she was frantically protesting in her hood. Given there was only muffled sounds we assumed she was gagged.

Dipping the brush into the jar and swirling it around he continued;

"This substance effectively increases arousal state, heightening sensitivity and..." Approaching his patient "inhibits orgasm when warmed to 37 degrees centigrade or 98.6 Fahrenheit".

He withdraws the brush from the liquid and let's the substance drip. Evilly he then holds the dripping bristles over the victims spread pussy and let's the liquid drip onto her. She jolts as soon as she feels the droplets which course down her and glisten in the light.

"Some of you may recognise this temperature as being equal to that of the body. The substance may be warmed prior to application in which case its inhibiting function is already active or, as we have here, applied it cold. This means as the patients temperature increases with arousal state, they themselves will active the chemical and thus inhibit their own orgasm"

Moving around to the head of the woman, he pinches the hood and slowly pulls it off revealing a wide eyed, terrified looking blonde, her hair wild from the hood, her eyes darting around as she takes in her surroundings. A ballgag fitted between her shining lips, drool stringing from it as she pleads behind it.

Something about the girl seemed familiar to me and it wasn't until later when he told us her name that the penny dropped.

"Meet our willing volunteer, Chloe"

Then it hit me, Chloe... Three Peaks Pizza Chloe. The girl who disappeared 2 years ago. Assumed lost in the wilderness and never found. Well... I guess we know where she's been...

[tickleasylum]

Cathy's Journal Part i

***!!WARNING!! What follows may contain content some may find offensive or difficult to read. It is advised that if you suffer from or are triggered by content that features reference to trauma and treatment involving mental health professionals to exercise caution***

My name is Catherine Francis Reed, but my friends call me Cathy.

I'm just a small town girl from the Midwest and this is the start of my journal as trainee staff at the asylum.

How did I get here you ask? Well I come from a modest farming background, the oldest child of 2, my brother, Kyle, 3 years my junior.

Growing up in a small rural and isolated community doesn't offer much in the way of excitement or give a girl any real opportunities in life, not unless I wanted to become a farmer, sell farm machinery, fix farm machinery or... Anything else farming related... So boredom was a way of life more than anything and these were the days before the internet... Hard to imagine right? Though considering how conservative and traditional my parents were, I'm not convinced we'd even be allowed access to the internet if we had it...

As a result we had to make our own entertainment and that almost always came in the form of tickling, which was bad news for my younger brother, especially after the events Halloween last year.

Our parents needed to get away from the farm for a weekend and have some... personal... time with one another, after all the kids couldn't just go to the mall when you're 100 miles from anywhere.

I was 21 at the time and my brother 18 so they happily left us with the run of the place for a couple of nights.

We were sitting watching TV reruns when a devilish idea came my bored mind.

"Oh Kyle? You remember how I'd always tickle torture you when we were younger?..."

Sadly I don't remember much of the details after that however my therapist told me that when our parents returned they discovered Kyle shackled in the barn, delirious from dehydration and mindlessly begging between broken giggles, that never did go away, as I, wide eyed and expressionless, mercilessly brushed at his soles and couldn't be convinced to stop... Like I was possessed.

My parents had me committed.

Therapists told me I had tickled my brother ceaselessly over a period of 46hrs... To insanity... And suggested a course of regression therapy to find the cause for such blatant sadism in an otherwise perfectly normal girl.

It later transpired that, years previously, I was roused from my bed one night to the sound of hysterical laughter and begging coming from the same barn.

Venturing outside to discover my father, naked and shackled by his wrists, hanging from the barn rafters and being mercilessly tickle tortured by a woman dressed as a milk maid whilst my mother, legs spread and lying on a hay bale, furiously fingered herself whilst moaning orders loudly "uuuurgghhhh fuuuuuck that's it, torture the fucker... Make him beg to be milked dry!"

I hid and watched the whole event play out until the woman attached what looked like a milking machine to my father's penis and allowed it to force him to cum multiple times as he was tortured by my mother.

Little did I know, this trauma was quickly filed away as a repressed memory and must've been awakened as I had my brother restrained in the same barn.

I ended up being referred to another psychiatrist whose belief it was that people like me who demonstrated extreme sadism should be given a chance to exercise it as opposed to supressing it. In short they then conducted an interview and deemed me a qualified candidate to join the staff of an unnamed institution hidden away in the Colorado mountains.

I was told to report to the psychiatrists office at midnight in a week's time with only one bag of essentials and from there my journey would begin. i wish I could provide detail from this point however all I remember, upon arrival at the office, it's being grabbed from behind, hooded and made to inhale chloroform rendering me unconscious.

When I awoke, I found myself on a soft single bed with dark red duvet in a cosy and comfortable room with dark wood furniture. A dresser, wardrobe and desk with a tall barred window looking out across the tree line.

My bag was at the foot of the bed and a note lay on top of a neatly folded pile with shining black patent Mary Janes reading;

"Welcome to the institute,

Your attendance is kindly requested in the auditorium at 7pm for your introductory orientation.

W"

Sometime later, dressed in the uniform provided, I arrived at the auditorium with the new arrivals and took a seat at the front.

Shortly after, we had our introduction to W .

[tickleasylum]

Test Subject

Groggy, you begin to stir, your eyes are heavy, very heavy... Opening them feels like they're attached to weights and even when you succeed, your vision is blurred.

You're vaguely aware of shadow like shapes, smudged in your bleary-eyed view, voices sound like they're coming from a void, broken and echoing in your head.

What do you last remember? Getting home from work... What happened? You opened the door, kicked off your shoes and then... Nothing...

Remembering your shoes makes you curl your toes and flex your feet and you become slowly aware of two things.

One, they're exposed and two, your legs are spread.

It's not only your eyes that are heavy, though you still struggle to open them fully, made worse by a sudden bright light shining above you. The sun?

You feel weighed down... No... Not weighed... Tied!

Suddenly as you near full consciousness you feel the straps around your ankles, your wrists, legs and waist pressing you into the bed? No... Too firm... Your naked body begins to feel the chill of the leather beneath your skin and the air violating every exposed crevice of your body. A breeze wafts over your armpits as a figure sweeps by and you realise you're bound in an X shape, lying perfectly horizontal.

The voice again, clearer...

"So in order to ensure their own safety it is vital the subject be as restrained as practically possible"

You feel a strap wrapped over your forehead and secured, forcing you to look up at the sun, no, not the sun... The auditorium lights.

"For this seminar we'll be examining the effects of extreme gargalesis on the body of our volunteer"

Blinking crazily a doctor leans into your vision, pulls his surgical mask down and smirks before bringing a brush equipped drill into view and turning it on with a whirr.

"Let's begin shall we?"

[tickleasylum]

The Morning After

As the young blondes unconscious body is wheeled from the punishment room and out of his office by an orderly, the warden lounges in his chair at his desk, one hand still adorned with steel claws that he watches glint in the sunrise streaming through the murky windows behind him.

With the sweet taste of her feet still lingering on his tongue, he raises her shoe to his face and inhales the interior. Clearly her favourite shoes, he thinks. Well worn but taken care of, the scent of her foot mixing with a variety of moisturisers she's used and the shoe itself, strong, potent but not unpleasant.

A second deep inhale causes an orgasmic like shudder through his body and his vision flashes purple for a brief second as his head spins, the shoe dropping to the floor.

Composing himself, death gripping the edge of the desk with pleasure or pain like gasps until he calms.

Retrieving the shoe with its partner, he puts them in his desk drawer and picks up a trash bag forgotten by the orderly with an eye roll.

****

With a thud that startles the reception girls, the warden drops the trash bag on the counter as if from nowhere.

"Little miss Three Peaks belongings for incineration... Do I really need to do everything myself around here...?! And did no one save anything for me?!"

Lifting the Three Peaks Pizza box lid and discovering it disappointingly empty.

Sheepishly the staff look up and stay silent until Jennifer, the office manager, declares;

"Oh come on boss, we all know that you don't eat anymore... Well... Not food anyway... Not after the incident..."

Ah yes... The incident, he looks thoughtful as her patent leather heels click towards her office across the linoleum floor of the reception.

"And besides" she calls back "you were in there all night with that pretty little thing, remind you of someone did she?" before closing her door with a sly smirk.

[tickleasylum]

The Pizza Delivery Girl

Staring at the ceiling from his position on the couch opposite the fireplace he was resurrected from only hours before, his boots crossed at the ankle on the arm, fingers clasped over his chest resting on a grey tweed waistcoat that hugs his form.

Despite recent events all he can think is "fuck, I'm hungry..."

Rising slowly, he retrieves the phone from his desk, lifts the receiver and dials.

I know what you're thinking, what would a man recently resurrected and possibly possessed by a demon mean to eat...?

"Hey thank you for calling Three Peaks Pizza, my name's Chloe, how may I take your order t'day?"

He flashes a smile.

****

Her fingers clasp together tight, her knuckles whitening as she prays in her head, her tiny 5ft, sweat soaked frame vibrating and shaking violently against the straps holding her tightly to the Y frame.

Beads of sweat rolling down her arms stretched high above her head, her blonde hair soaked, her green eyes switching between wide maniacal stares to rolling into her head as she screams into her gag.

The box fitted snuggly between her spread legs ensuring her pussy is tormented mercilessly by hundreds of ultra fine whirring brushes that tickle and caress her clit and labia through orgasm after torturous orgasm. Her juices practically flow from her glistening body, coursing down the wood frame and pooling on the floor beside her discarded ankle socks and Vans.

She dare not look down, the feeling was torture enough without having visuals added to it. Her captor positioned at her feet, one hand mercilessly spidering over her left size 3 sole, steel claws glinting menacingly in the dim light of the punishment room as she feels his tongue, long and serpent like entwining itself between her cute toes pushing her another earth shattering orgasm, feeling herself gush against the infuriating torture device. Was that number 9? 10? Fuck it may as well be 40...

The claws land on both soles at once and she lets a last gutteral scream erupt from her core into the gag before she gives in and loses consciousness, though her captor pays her no mind and continues regardless.

Outside, a bright red moped, reading "Three Peaks Pizza" on its carrier, sits waiting for its rider...

[tickleasylum]

Resurrection

The dying embers of the fire glint across a motionless figure at the base of the hearth.

A whisky glass, empty on its side nearby reflecting the final flickering flames. An ornate grandfather clock ticks. Its pendulum swinging slow as if in concert with the death of the fire.

In the darkness of the building, a faint echo of screams and hysterics reverberate from its bowels, the ghosts of the past call out to their keeper.

With a final swing the pendulum rests and the fire finally darkens.

A whisp of smoke meanders through the air, encircling the corpse.

With a loud gasp as if saved from drowning, the figures eyes spring wide, a flash of purple from its iris as it struggles to its feet and stares into the mirror above the fireplace. His eye colour resetting to their natural blue as the smoke billows around his head before disappearing up the floo with a ghostly whisper...

"Welcome back... Warden"