MsZahraTickler
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- Jul 19, 2007
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Due to request, I have decided to recount a F/F tale I previously hinted at in my earlier story.
This particular girl was exceedingly shy, a bookworm type, who studied hard at University and led a pretty quiet life. She was of average height, weight and looks. I am aware describing her as a 6ft leggy blonde stunner would get a more excited response from readers, but I am not in the habit of supporting stereotypes; I find the truth to be more stimulating. The fact is, she was plain, yet attractive, with brown wavy hair halfway down her back, clear grey eyes and a dimpled smile.
To this day I have no idea where she got the idea that she would like to be tickled; I did ask, but it became obvious it wasn't something she wished to discuss so I left it. I am not in the habit of interrogating my victims without them requesting such.
The girl explained to me in her quiet, Polish accent, that she was not sure how much tickling she could take. When offered a safeword she refused, but did ask that I go easy on her and tickle tease as opposed to torture. She was aware that sadistic torture is my preference, but also that I respect limits and do not mind tailoring the experience to my partner's needs.
I tied her spread eagled on the bed, very traditional, but uncomplicated for a novice ticklee so unsure of what she wanted. She was dressed in plain white underwear. I made the bondage tight, secure, but comfortable. I did not blindfold or gag her.
I had no idea where the girl was ticklish. She was so shy, she had had difficulty saying the word "tickle", let alone going into detail. So, I began to explore.
I began at her waist. Slowly, whilst maintaining eye contact, I drew my long fingernails from her ribcage to the middle of her stomach. Straight away, giggles came pouring from her mouth like a waterfall. I repeated the action, and was rewarded again by the musical giggle. I started to lightly tickle her sides, waist and stomach with my nails, alternating between short light scratches, long firm raking and occasionally, tweaking her sides or wiggling my fingertips against her ribs. Within 5 minutes she was pulling on the ropes and laughing quite hysterically. I did not stay on her worst spots for long, bearing in mind her request, but I certainly kept her on the edge of what she could stand.
After the tickling of her midriff, I began to move up her sides towards her creamy pale underarms, and the look in her wide eyes was one of terror and delight. Her breathing was heavy and eager, and she was almost squirming.
I fluttered the fingernails of each hand gently in each armpit and she would have bolted off the bed if it were not for my carefully tied ropes. As it was, she was going nowhere.
The skin of her underarms was smooth and unbearably sensitive, and before long my light nail fluttering had turned to a steady scratching and raking, sending my unfortunate victim into paroxysmsof hysteria and cries of "Noo! No, wait!" in her attractive accent. Undeterred, I carried on, mixing in probing fingertips to wiggle deep within the soft recesses of her armpits.
The girl was beginning to sweat, rivulets running down her flanks and legs, her voice growing hoarse with laughing and giggling. And still, I was keeping the tickling light, only on the verge of torture, as requested. The sadistic demon in me was lurking below the surface, and I quieted it as best I could.
I was gaily kneading her ribs, much to the anguish of my tied victim, when her voice stopped me.
"Zahra, torture now. I want harder."
"We discussed limits already, honey."
The girl wriggled in her bonds, trying to look me in the eyes so I could see their sincerity.
"Please....it feels...torture me. Make it worse. Ignore my begs. Make it torture. Don't stop."
I felt the demon within me jump to the surface, but still I was careful. I asked if she was sure. She responded urgently, the look in her eyes passionate and quite unlike the girl who had arrived earlier, so shy and uncertain.
It was with relief I released my sadistic desires. I tickled her ribs again, but in the places I had been avoiding. I kneaded with a firmer pressure, not enough to hurt her, but more than she could stand; her cries of laughter assured me of this.
I scratched the delicate, secret skin within her navel with the long fingernail ofone finger, swirling it in circles intil her screeches grew frenzied. I licked inside her navel with constant, maddening strokes of the tongue. I tweaked and squeezed her bucking hips and ran my nails over the goosebumped skin.
Straddling her waist, I began to administer one of the worst armpit tickling ordeals I have given. It was the kind of torture I myself dread. Within seconds of my unrelenting fingernails scrabbling in her defenceless hollows, I am quite sure the girl regretted every word of her rash request. But, this was not my problem, and as long as I could see she was breathing and well, I wasn;t prepared to worry.
I am unsure if she begged for mercy as I tickled her underarms. I know she screamed my name, and she certainly lapsed into silent, heaving laughter several times, and even growled when I laughingly assured her I was simply doing what she had asked me to do. Torturing her.
I decided to casually mention the tickling of her feet, as I ran my evil fingernails around her cringing, delicate neck. She didn't so much reply as gasp in terror, which was really the only answer I needed.
I was greatly amused by the way she tried flapping her feet when I got near them. I had tied them too tightly for this to be of any benefit, and I thwarted her attempts further by tying them together, toes back, big tes also together. I then straddled her ankles, so her long, pale bare feet really were going nowhere.
I was aware she was begging. Not going back on her request, but insane babble regarding her own ticklishness. I simply assured her that her level of ticklishness was obvious to even the dimmest of people, therefore I was going to take that as a direct insult to my own perceptive skills. I then made her aware of what I did to ticklish girls who insult me. The pannicked response made me smile.
I regarded her large, smooth, long soles with delight. I began the lesson.
This particular girl was exceedingly shy, a bookworm type, who studied hard at University and led a pretty quiet life. She was of average height, weight and looks. I am aware describing her as a 6ft leggy blonde stunner would get a more excited response from readers, but I am not in the habit of supporting stereotypes; I find the truth to be more stimulating. The fact is, she was plain, yet attractive, with brown wavy hair halfway down her back, clear grey eyes and a dimpled smile.
To this day I have no idea where she got the idea that she would like to be tickled; I did ask, but it became obvious it wasn't something she wished to discuss so I left it. I am not in the habit of interrogating my victims without them requesting such.
The girl explained to me in her quiet, Polish accent, that she was not sure how much tickling she could take. When offered a safeword she refused, but did ask that I go easy on her and tickle tease as opposed to torture. She was aware that sadistic torture is my preference, but also that I respect limits and do not mind tailoring the experience to my partner's needs.
I tied her spread eagled on the bed, very traditional, but uncomplicated for a novice ticklee so unsure of what she wanted. She was dressed in plain white underwear. I made the bondage tight, secure, but comfortable. I did not blindfold or gag her.
I had no idea where the girl was ticklish. She was so shy, she had had difficulty saying the word "tickle", let alone going into detail. So, I began to explore.
I began at her waist. Slowly, whilst maintaining eye contact, I drew my long fingernails from her ribcage to the middle of her stomach. Straight away, giggles came pouring from her mouth like a waterfall. I repeated the action, and was rewarded again by the musical giggle. I started to lightly tickle her sides, waist and stomach with my nails, alternating between short light scratches, long firm raking and occasionally, tweaking her sides or wiggling my fingertips against her ribs. Within 5 minutes she was pulling on the ropes and laughing quite hysterically. I did not stay on her worst spots for long, bearing in mind her request, but I certainly kept her on the edge of what she could stand.
After the tickling of her midriff, I began to move up her sides towards her creamy pale underarms, and the look in her wide eyes was one of terror and delight. Her breathing was heavy and eager, and she was almost squirming.
I fluttered the fingernails of each hand gently in each armpit and she would have bolted off the bed if it were not for my carefully tied ropes. As it was, she was going nowhere.
The skin of her underarms was smooth and unbearably sensitive, and before long my light nail fluttering had turned to a steady scratching and raking, sending my unfortunate victim into paroxysmsof hysteria and cries of "Noo! No, wait!" in her attractive accent. Undeterred, I carried on, mixing in probing fingertips to wiggle deep within the soft recesses of her armpits.
The girl was beginning to sweat, rivulets running down her flanks and legs, her voice growing hoarse with laughing and giggling. And still, I was keeping the tickling light, only on the verge of torture, as requested. The sadistic demon in me was lurking below the surface, and I quieted it as best I could.
I was gaily kneading her ribs, much to the anguish of my tied victim, when her voice stopped me.
"Zahra, torture now. I want harder."
"We discussed limits already, honey."
The girl wriggled in her bonds, trying to look me in the eyes so I could see their sincerity.
"Please....it feels...torture me. Make it worse. Ignore my begs. Make it torture. Don't stop."
I felt the demon within me jump to the surface, but still I was careful. I asked if she was sure. She responded urgently, the look in her eyes passionate and quite unlike the girl who had arrived earlier, so shy and uncertain.
It was with relief I released my sadistic desires. I tickled her ribs again, but in the places I had been avoiding. I kneaded with a firmer pressure, not enough to hurt her, but more than she could stand; her cries of laughter assured me of this.
I scratched the delicate, secret skin within her navel with the long fingernail ofone finger, swirling it in circles intil her screeches grew frenzied. I licked inside her navel with constant, maddening strokes of the tongue. I tweaked and squeezed her bucking hips and ran my nails over the goosebumped skin.
Straddling her waist, I began to administer one of the worst armpit tickling ordeals I have given. It was the kind of torture I myself dread. Within seconds of my unrelenting fingernails scrabbling in her defenceless hollows, I am quite sure the girl regretted every word of her rash request. But, this was not my problem, and as long as I could see she was breathing and well, I wasn;t prepared to worry.
I am unsure if she begged for mercy as I tickled her underarms. I know she screamed my name, and she certainly lapsed into silent, heaving laughter several times, and even growled when I laughingly assured her I was simply doing what she had asked me to do. Torturing her.
I decided to casually mention the tickling of her feet, as I ran my evil fingernails around her cringing, delicate neck. She didn't so much reply as gasp in terror, which was really the only answer I needed.
I was greatly amused by the way she tried flapping her feet when I got near them. I had tied them too tightly for this to be of any benefit, and I thwarted her attempts further by tying them together, toes back, big tes also together. I then straddled her ankles, so her long, pale bare feet really were going nowhere.
I was aware she was begging. Not going back on her request, but insane babble regarding her own ticklishness. I simply assured her that her level of ticklishness was obvious to even the dimmest of people, therefore I was going to take that as a direct insult to my own perceptive skills. I then made her aware of what I did to ticklish girls who insult me. The pannicked response made me smile.
I regarded her large, smooth, long soles with delight. I began the lesson.
