ticklishscribe
3rd Level Violet Feather
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A very Bratti Tickle...
Poochie, Poochie Coo…
Brat tried to move her arms and legs but it was impossible. She was tied spread-eagled to the very padded table she groomed dogs on. Gordon looked over his helpless victim and a broad smile came over his face.
“We’re going to have fun tonight.” He gazed over her taught form, arms tied above her head and ankles tied to the bottom corners of the table. Being taught made her satin, sleeveless, midriff top tighten up to conform to her ribs. His gaze travelled down her slowly twisting body and his eyes came to rest on her bare feet, dressed in very beat up runners. He gazed up back to her face and rested his arms on the table.
“Bet you never thought that you’d ever be on this table, huh.”
“You don’t scare me you know.” She grinned and began to struggle, trying to break the rags that he had used to tie her with.
“I don’t want to scare you; I just want to tickle you. I just want to tickle you the way you want to be tickled.” And with that he slid a finger across her bare tummy, momentarily dipping it into her now helpless and adorably inviting button. She squirmed as he slid it across, then gasped and giggled slightly as he entered her button.
“Such an exquisite navel; looks like I’ve just sunk your battleship… That’s quite the cute little giggle you’ve got, but that’s not the laughter I want.”
“And what if I don’t laugh?”
“Oh you will.”
“What if I refuse to laugh?”
“Then I’ll just have to, dare I say it, weasel it out of you.”
“Ha, ha, you’re just full of it.” She jerked at her bonds; squirming.
“Maybe, but I’m not the one who’s tied down; so it looks as though the shoe is on the other foot. And speaking of shoes, or in your case runners, lets have a look at those feet shall we. Are you ready to experience the agony of de-feet?”
“Ha, ha, you are just so full of it.”
He went down to the foot of the table and grasping her left runner with his right hand, he began untying the lace. Once this was done he grasped the heel with his left and easily slipped the runner off. She wriggled her foot in an act of defiance and pulled on the rag that bound it. Her toes began curling tightly.
“AHHHHH, are we not enjoying our new leash on life?”
“One more bad joke and you are going to be tickle tortured to extreme.”
“You my ticklish little Brat are in no position to make threats.” With that he began to remove her other runner and now both her feet were defiantly and intensely squirming.
He casually tossed a runner to one end of the shop and the other to the opposite end. Coming around beside her, he took up a position next to her armpits and leaned close over her.
“There now, are we comfy?”
When he leaned back she could see and feel, that his hands were no longer resting on the table, but now resting in her armpits. She tensed and began to squirm, pulling again at the rag bonds that held her. His hands began a slow circular movement and she immediately began to bite her bottom lip and uttered a short and swift gasp.
“So you still refuse to laugh; then it’s time for a little weaselling.” His hands began to move a little faster now and a small impish looking grin began to appear on her face. His fingers began a swirling motion and he glided them back and forth across her sensitive armpits. Then with lightning swiftness, he dug them in and she erupted with shrieks of laughter. He moved his hands slowly down her armpits and also began rubbing the top of her ribcage as well. With that came another eruption in that she began to buck wildly, thrusting her chest in the air and beginning to scream with laughter. Being stretched out and tied down didn’t allow her much room to manoeuvre, but never the less she tried. All the while he continued to dig his fingers into her armpits and the top of her ribcage.
He dug his fingers totally into her ribs and she erupted with full-bore laughter and more intense bucking. In fact, she bucked so hard that he could feel the table move. He could feel her delicate, finely sculpted ribs and felt them expand and contract spasmodically as she giggled then laughed. For several more minutes he spread his fingers wide and squeezed his way up to her armpits and back down to her flanks. She went wild in her bondage, laughing helplessly.
“Time for a rest.” He said, watching her laughter subside into spurts of. Spasmodic giggling, Her entire body rolled slowly from side to side as the sweat continued to fall. She caught her breath and her chest began rising and falling, as spasmodic giggles echoed from deep inside of her. She was frenzied on the table and covered with sweat. Her light brown hair was a wild mess around her head with locks stuck to her forehead, cheeks and neck.
He climbed onto the table and straddled her, sitting on her waist. She tried to buck him off, but she was almost exhausted from the tickling she had just received. He raised his arms over her shoulders and flexed and wriggled his fingers inches from her armpits...
“Time to begin again.” He said.
Her eyes darted from side to side as his fingers descended upon her armpits, and she squirmed a little as she felt his soft, feather touch. Her eyes closed tight and she bit her lip, trying as hard as she could not to laugh. His fingers again kept to a swirling motion and glided across her sensitive armpits. The bucking returned, but with him on her waist she couldn’t move very much and this began to exhaust her further. Her full-bore laughter returned as well and with it came something he would have never even dreamed of. She began to make sounds like a seal and this quasi barking made him stop.
“Well, well. I’ve never experienced anything like this before, but you’ve got my seal of approval.”
“Bwaaaaaaa, haaaaa, haaaaaa, llllllike IIII sssaid, yyyou’re jjjust fffull of it.”
“No sweetheart. You’re the one that’s full of it, and the it is laughter.”
He dug his fingers in again and she immediately began laughing and barking. He continued tickling again for another few minutes.
“You know,” He said getting off her, “If you’re going to bark like a seal, perhaps I should tickle those flippers.”
Her feet again began to defiantly and intensely squirm and with that he moved down the table. This time he straddled her left leg, facing her foot. Firmly grasping the heel of her foot with his right hand, he slid the fingertips of his left hand up from the heel to the squirming toes and then down again. She began to buck once more and her laughter returned complete with the seal sounds. Her toes began curling tightly.
“Oh shee-it, no!”
Her foot was now frantically spasming and he had to firmly grip it to keep it still. He found her feet to be exquisitely perfect: From being milky-white and satiny smooth from the heel in his hand, the exquisitely perfect arch, the soft ball, the crevasses under the toes and the tips of the toes themselves. Her toes were round and plump and he wanted to take each one in his mouth and taste their plumpness. But the time had come to uncurl her toes and he decided on a good game of piggies. Taking each one between two fingers he stretched and wriggled them, twisting slowly. Then gripping the foot even firmer, he began to slowly stroke all five fingers from heel to toes. Her toes curled then splayed then curled again; the power in her foot was increasing and so was her laughter.
“Boy!!! These flippers are really ticklish! This is just excellent! Poochie, poochie coo!”
“BWAAAAAAA, AAAAHHHHAAAAGGGG! NNNNo mmmore bbbad jjjokes! AAAAHHHHAAAAGGGG!”
“Enough of the feet for the moment,” He announced, getting off her leg. “It’s time for some feather tickling.”
On a table beside them was a small, narrow wooden box and this he opened. He took out of the box a single medium sized feather and examined it for a moment, then turned to her.
She watched as its white, fading to brown, fading to grey, fading to black tendrils came ever closer and she tensed as he brought it close to her face.
He slowly descended the feather to the tip or her left ear lobe. And as the first tendrils meet with her lobe, her reaction is electric and he grinned with delight. He danced the feather over her ear and followed its sudden and spasmodic movement with pleasure. He then slowly dragged the feather down the back of her cheek and onto her neck. This made her jerk her head away from the feather and he delighted in following her neck. He brought the feather still further downward and now entered her left armpit. She tried to bring her arms down again but the rag bonds held firm. He stroked and flitted the feather like a butterfly over the taught and smooth hollows and her reaction was again electric. Moving the feather down even further he stroked it across her tummy, stopping momentarily to swish it around her button. Her back arched again and the hearty laughter followed by seal barking returned. He smiled broadly.
Moving to the foot of the table, he took hold of her left foot again. He slowly brought the feather closer and closer to her once again curling toes. The feather’s tendrils meet with her big toe and encircled it, ballet dancing all over the soft pad. Her big toe spasmd and began to frantically bicycle and writhe all over the place. Seizing the opportunity he probed and danced the feather in the crevice between her big toe and foot. There was such strength in her foot that he had to grip it harder and he wished I had another hand, so that he could bend her toes back as well. Reversing the feather, he began to dance the shaft up and down the full length of her sole. Once more felt her back arch and heard her frantic, spasming laughter. After a few more minutes of this, he placed the feather back on the table and again began to scrabble his fingers all over her sole. He had found her arch to be the softest, most sensitive and most hyper-ticklish area he had ever seen on a girl, and this delighted him no end.
After several more minutes of this he stopped, got off her leg and then turned to look at her. Her entire body still rolled slowly from side to side as the sweat continued to fall. She again caught her breath and her chest was still rising and falling like the pounding surf. Her head once again moved slower as the spasmodic giggles echoed from deep inside of her. She was still frenzied on the table and covered with sweat.
He began to untie her ankles and then did the same to her wrists. Once this was done he helped her up and then began massaging her shoulders and arms.
She looked at him and he saw the warmth in her amber eyes. She put her arms around him and gently squeezed. As she did this she got off the table turned him around and backed him up to it.
“I’ve had a wonderful tickle and I’ve also learned a lot from you.” She announced, winking at him.
“Well thank you; and I’m glad that you learn-
He didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence when she put one arm behind his back, the other under his knees and lifted him onto the table, flattening him out in the process. Grabbing his wrists she took his arms above his head and started using the same rags to tie him up with.
“And now you’re going to enjoy a new leash on life; it’s time for this pooch to have a pedicure. Now where is that feather of yours? I’m not a brat for nothing, as I don’t just get even, I get ahead…”
Poochie, Poochie Coo…
Brat tried to move her arms and legs but it was impossible. She was tied spread-eagled to the very padded table she groomed dogs on. Gordon looked over his helpless victim and a broad smile came over his face.
“We’re going to have fun tonight.” He gazed over her taught form, arms tied above her head and ankles tied to the bottom corners of the table. Being taught made her satin, sleeveless, midriff top tighten up to conform to her ribs. His gaze travelled down her slowly twisting body and his eyes came to rest on her bare feet, dressed in very beat up runners. He gazed up back to her face and rested his arms on the table.
“Bet you never thought that you’d ever be on this table, huh.”
“You don’t scare me you know.” She grinned and began to struggle, trying to break the rags that he had used to tie her with.
“I don’t want to scare you; I just want to tickle you. I just want to tickle you the way you want to be tickled.” And with that he slid a finger across her bare tummy, momentarily dipping it into her now helpless and adorably inviting button. She squirmed as he slid it across, then gasped and giggled slightly as he entered her button.
“Such an exquisite navel; looks like I’ve just sunk your battleship… That’s quite the cute little giggle you’ve got, but that’s not the laughter I want.”
“And what if I don’t laugh?”
“Oh you will.”
“What if I refuse to laugh?”
“Then I’ll just have to, dare I say it, weasel it out of you.”
“Ha, ha, you’re just full of it.” She jerked at her bonds; squirming.
“Maybe, but I’m not the one who’s tied down; so it looks as though the shoe is on the other foot. And speaking of shoes, or in your case runners, lets have a look at those feet shall we. Are you ready to experience the agony of de-feet?”
“Ha, ha, you are just so full of it.”
He went down to the foot of the table and grasping her left runner with his right hand, he began untying the lace. Once this was done he grasped the heel with his left and easily slipped the runner off. She wriggled her foot in an act of defiance and pulled on the rag that bound it. Her toes began curling tightly.
“AHHHHH, are we not enjoying our new leash on life?”
“One more bad joke and you are going to be tickle tortured to extreme.”
“You my ticklish little Brat are in no position to make threats.” With that he began to remove her other runner and now both her feet were defiantly and intensely squirming.
He casually tossed a runner to one end of the shop and the other to the opposite end. Coming around beside her, he took up a position next to her armpits and leaned close over her.
“There now, are we comfy?”
When he leaned back she could see and feel, that his hands were no longer resting on the table, but now resting in her armpits. She tensed and began to squirm, pulling again at the rag bonds that held her. His hands began a slow circular movement and she immediately began to bite her bottom lip and uttered a short and swift gasp.
“So you still refuse to laugh; then it’s time for a little weaselling.” His hands began to move a little faster now and a small impish looking grin began to appear on her face. His fingers began a swirling motion and he glided them back and forth across her sensitive armpits. Then with lightning swiftness, he dug them in and she erupted with shrieks of laughter. He moved his hands slowly down her armpits and also began rubbing the top of her ribcage as well. With that came another eruption in that she began to buck wildly, thrusting her chest in the air and beginning to scream with laughter. Being stretched out and tied down didn’t allow her much room to manoeuvre, but never the less she tried. All the while he continued to dig his fingers into her armpits and the top of her ribcage.
He dug his fingers totally into her ribs and she erupted with full-bore laughter and more intense bucking. In fact, she bucked so hard that he could feel the table move. He could feel her delicate, finely sculpted ribs and felt them expand and contract spasmodically as she giggled then laughed. For several more minutes he spread his fingers wide and squeezed his way up to her armpits and back down to her flanks. She went wild in her bondage, laughing helplessly.
“Time for a rest.” He said, watching her laughter subside into spurts of. Spasmodic giggling, Her entire body rolled slowly from side to side as the sweat continued to fall. She caught her breath and her chest began rising and falling, as spasmodic giggles echoed from deep inside of her. She was frenzied on the table and covered with sweat. Her light brown hair was a wild mess around her head with locks stuck to her forehead, cheeks and neck.
He climbed onto the table and straddled her, sitting on her waist. She tried to buck him off, but she was almost exhausted from the tickling she had just received. He raised his arms over her shoulders and flexed and wriggled his fingers inches from her armpits...
“Time to begin again.” He said.
Her eyes darted from side to side as his fingers descended upon her armpits, and she squirmed a little as she felt his soft, feather touch. Her eyes closed tight and she bit her lip, trying as hard as she could not to laugh. His fingers again kept to a swirling motion and glided across her sensitive armpits. The bucking returned, but with him on her waist she couldn’t move very much and this began to exhaust her further. Her full-bore laughter returned as well and with it came something he would have never even dreamed of. She began to make sounds like a seal and this quasi barking made him stop.
“Well, well. I’ve never experienced anything like this before, but you’ve got my seal of approval.”
“Bwaaaaaaa, haaaaa, haaaaaa, llllllike IIII sssaid, yyyou’re jjjust fffull of it.”
“No sweetheart. You’re the one that’s full of it, and the it is laughter.”
He dug his fingers in again and she immediately began laughing and barking. He continued tickling again for another few minutes.
“You know,” He said getting off her, “If you’re going to bark like a seal, perhaps I should tickle those flippers.”
Her feet again began to defiantly and intensely squirm and with that he moved down the table. This time he straddled her left leg, facing her foot. Firmly grasping the heel of her foot with his right hand, he slid the fingertips of his left hand up from the heel to the squirming toes and then down again. She began to buck once more and her laughter returned complete with the seal sounds. Her toes began curling tightly.
“Oh shee-it, no!”
Her foot was now frantically spasming and he had to firmly grip it to keep it still. He found her feet to be exquisitely perfect: From being milky-white and satiny smooth from the heel in his hand, the exquisitely perfect arch, the soft ball, the crevasses under the toes and the tips of the toes themselves. Her toes were round and plump and he wanted to take each one in his mouth and taste their plumpness. But the time had come to uncurl her toes and he decided on a good game of piggies. Taking each one between two fingers he stretched and wriggled them, twisting slowly. Then gripping the foot even firmer, he began to slowly stroke all five fingers from heel to toes. Her toes curled then splayed then curled again; the power in her foot was increasing and so was her laughter.
“Boy!!! These flippers are really ticklish! This is just excellent! Poochie, poochie coo!”
“BWAAAAAAA, AAAAHHHHAAAAGGGG! NNNNo mmmore bbbad jjjokes! AAAAHHHHAAAAGGGG!”
“Enough of the feet for the moment,” He announced, getting off her leg. “It’s time for some feather tickling.”
On a table beside them was a small, narrow wooden box and this he opened. He took out of the box a single medium sized feather and examined it for a moment, then turned to her.
She watched as its white, fading to brown, fading to grey, fading to black tendrils came ever closer and she tensed as he brought it close to her face.
He slowly descended the feather to the tip or her left ear lobe. And as the first tendrils meet with her lobe, her reaction is electric and he grinned with delight. He danced the feather over her ear and followed its sudden and spasmodic movement with pleasure. He then slowly dragged the feather down the back of her cheek and onto her neck. This made her jerk her head away from the feather and he delighted in following her neck. He brought the feather still further downward and now entered her left armpit. She tried to bring her arms down again but the rag bonds held firm. He stroked and flitted the feather like a butterfly over the taught and smooth hollows and her reaction was again electric. Moving the feather down even further he stroked it across her tummy, stopping momentarily to swish it around her button. Her back arched again and the hearty laughter followed by seal barking returned. He smiled broadly.
Moving to the foot of the table, he took hold of her left foot again. He slowly brought the feather closer and closer to her once again curling toes. The feather’s tendrils meet with her big toe and encircled it, ballet dancing all over the soft pad. Her big toe spasmd and began to frantically bicycle and writhe all over the place. Seizing the opportunity he probed and danced the feather in the crevice between her big toe and foot. There was such strength in her foot that he had to grip it harder and he wished I had another hand, so that he could bend her toes back as well. Reversing the feather, he began to dance the shaft up and down the full length of her sole. Once more felt her back arch and heard her frantic, spasming laughter. After a few more minutes of this, he placed the feather back on the table and again began to scrabble his fingers all over her sole. He had found her arch to be the softest, most sensitive and most hyper-ticklish area he had ever seen on a girl, and this delighted him no end.
After several more minutes of this he stopped, got off her leg and then turned to look at her. Her entire body still rolled slowly from side to side as the sweat continued to fall. She again caught her breath and her chest was still rising and falling like the pounding surf. Her head once again moved slower as the spasmodic giggles echoed from deep inside of her. She was still frenzied on the table and covered with sweat.
He began to untie her ankles and then did the same to her wrists. Once this was done he helped her up and then began massaging her shoulders and arms.
She looked at him and he saw the warmth in her amber eyes. She put her arms around him and gently squeezed. As she did this she got off the table turned him around and backed him up to it.
“I’ve had a wonderful tickle and I’ve also learned a lot from you.” She announced, winking at him.
“Well thank you; and I’m glad that you learn-
He didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence when she put one arm behind his back, the other under his knees and lifted him onto the table, flattening him out in the process. Grabbing his wrists she took his arms above his head and started using the same rags to tie him up with.
“And now you’re going to enjoy a new leash on life; it’s time for this pooch to have a pedicure. Now where is that feather of yours? I’m not a brat for nothing, as I don’t just get even, I get ahead…”
