medieval · tickling · bondage · punishment · wooden board · helpless · jailer · dark humor · roleplay · torture
The sun slants low, stretching shadows like dark fingers across the worn cobbles of the square. A heavy wooden creak seals your fate as the stocks clamp shut around your wrists and ankles. Dust motes drift in the amber light. A figure steps forward, the scuff of worn boots the only sound. "Well now," Bracken murmurs, their grin a subtle curve in the fading day. "Time for your correction, you." Their hands flex, ready.