slacker2114
3rd Level White Feather
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Well, it was demanded (much to my surprise) so I spent the afternoon writing the sequel to 'The Power of Tickling'. It's longer than the first, but I hope you all enjoy it. as always, feedback is appreciated and encouraged. so without further ado, here it is.....
The Power of Tickling II:
Resistance Is Futile
“You are Tracy Armstrong, a hot shot, up and coming expose’ reporter for the local newspaper. You were caught snooping where you shouldn’t have been. Efforts by the Master of Shadows have failed to garner any information from you. That is why you have been sent to me.”
Mistress Kathleen sat in her lounge chair, looking over her new charge. She had to admit she was rather impressed with this young woman. To resist the tortures of the Master was no small feat. He did not become the Master by being soft. He had inflicted every sort of pain on her, short of actually maiming her, temporarily or permanently. Still, Miss Armstrong had resisted revealing her sources to him. The Master was very pleased with Mistress Kathleen’s successes in the past, so he decided to turn the nosy bitch over to the “Mistress of Tickle”, an honor bestowed on her by her peers because of her ability to break slaves with just a touch.
“Must I endure more of this crap? I will not reveal my sources no matter what you do to me, so just give up now,” Tracy sneered.
The Mistress moved quickly from her chair to stand in front of her new victim, grabbing her chin to force her to look into Kathleen’s face. “You WILL reveal all to me by the time I’m finished with you or you will never leave here. It’s your choice. Either cooperate or suffer and be broken. Decide now.”
The defiant woman simply laughed in the Mistress’ face. Without another word, she released the reporter and pressed a button on the intercom. Immediately, two male slaves entered the room.
“Take her from my sight and prepare her”. The slaves complied immediately, taking Tracy from the room, perhaps a little rougher than was needed. Mistress Kathleen allowed herself a smile once she was alone. She loved a challenge and this woman would be tough indeed. But the Mistress had complete faith in her abilities to break the unbreakable.
Two hours later, the Mistress entered her dungeon to find the reporter naked and bound in the sex sling that was suspended from the ceiling, the Mistress’ favorite device. She had modified it so the victim was completely vulnerable all over as well as held completely immobile. She mentally noted to give her slaves a reward for their anticipation of their Mistress’ desire. Brimming with confidence, Mistress Kathleen stepped over to the suspended woman. “Are you ready, little bitch, for the torment that awaits you?”
“You’re wasting your time. I know who you are. You’re the so-called ‘Mistress of Tickle’. Well tell me, o mighty Mistress of Tickle, how do you plan to tickle torture someone who isn’t even ticklish?” She had said this with full confidence and obvious disdain for the Mistress. However, Kathleen was undaunted. How many times had she heard those words before?
Without another word, Mistress Kathleen ran a long fingernail down the reporter’s sole. “Oh, ha ha ha ha ha, no, please stop, o mighty and terrible Mistress. I can’t take it,” Tracy said sarcastically. “You’re pathetic, you know that. This is ridiculous”.
Unshaken, Kathleen continued her preliminary exploration of the reporter’s body. To her surprise, she got little to no reaction from the little wench. Armpits, feet, ribs, thighs—anywhere she touched her, Tracy seemed to resist. Anytime Tracy twitched slightly to a touch, the Mistress would concentrate on that area. But Tracy would not budge. And all the while, the annoying taunts of the Mistress’ capabilities continued to flow. It became obvious that something else would be required.
Perhaps it’s her sight that allows her to brace herself, thought Kathleen. Moving quickly, she grabbed a blindfold from the bench and slipped it over Tracy’s eyes. She once again began her exploring with little change in results. A couple more twitches, nothing more. And still the insults were hurled.
After two hours of attempted tickling with no results, the Mistress ordered her slaves to care for the reporter, but keep her in the sling for the night. She then retired to the dining room, though she was too preoccupied to eat. She knew the bitch was ticklish, but somehow she was able to resist. But how? There had to be a solution.
Mistress Kathleen moved to her office to further ponder the situation. As she mulled over her problem, there was knock at the door. It was her top slave. Bowing her head respectfully, she waited permission to enter.
“Come in and make it quick”, snapped the Mistress. She was not really in the mood to deal with any possible squabbles.
“Begging the Mistress’ pardon, but the males taking care of the new charge have reported that Miss Armstrong is demanding lotion for her skin. She claims to have unusually dry skin and that it’s inhumane to treat her in this manner.”
“SHE WHAT??”, screamed the Mistress, causing the slave to cringe in fear. “How dare she make demands of me! I will…”. Kathleen paused a moment as realization dawned on her. Grinning wickedly, she instructed her slave to have the females apply lotion to the reporter, specifically instructing her to make sure the reporter’s skin was well moisten for the next day. After sending the slave on her mission, Kathleen went to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day.
Early the next morning, before breakfast, the Mistress returned to the dungeon. She found Tracy in the same position, her skin glistening from recently applied lotion. The reporter eyed the Mistress with derision as she approached.
“Another boring day in the dungeon, o mighty Mistress of Tickle?” she sneered. “When will you get it through your thick head that you can’t break me.”
Rather than respond, the Mistress simply slid a fingernail the length of Tracy’s lotion coated sole. To the Mistress’ delight, there was an instant twitch. Instead of pressing on that point, she began to randomly target different areas with the same results. Everywhere she touched, Tracy’s skin quivered. Another point that made the Mistress happy was the fact that, though the insults continued, they were sounding a little strained, as if the reporter was struggling to contain herself. Kathleen persisted a little more earnestly, drawing more and more twitches but nothing more.
A combination is called for here, thought Kathleen as she once again slipped the blindfold over Tracy’s eyes then resumed her tickling tactics with much better results. The reporter began to squirm under the tickling strokes and the insults stopped coming, as though the reporter was struggling even harder to contain herself. Her feet were drawing the most squirms, as well as her belly, which Mistress Kathleen noted. But when she wiggled her fingers in Tracy’s armpits, she heard what sounded like a slight giggle.
“What was that? Did I just hear a giggle?” the Mistress teased as she lightened her touch and spider tickled both armpits at once, which drew a continued string of giggles. Not relenting, she continued her armpit torture for about a half-hour, which had her stubborn charge laughing lightly the whole time.
Kathleen called for three of her female slaves and ordered them to lotion the reporter again. They complied, daringly adding a few tickles as they did so. Normally, the Mistress would have been enraged by such liberties, but she noticed that Tracy squirmed and laughed louder than before from the random and unexpected multiple tickles. The Mistress now knew what had to be done.
After the slaves had finished, she ordered them to take up positions around the sling, one at each foot and herself and the third slave on either side. With a nod, all four began tickling with practiced, light touches. The result was very gratifying.
Tracy broke out into instant laughter. She tried to buck, but the modified sling prevented her movements. The nosy reporter could only laugh helplessly at her predicament.
After an hour, she took a break. She ordered her slaves to lotion the reporter again and then to join her in the next room. When they had joined the Mistress, she instructed them to take whatever liberties they felt necessary to torture this stubborn bitch.
When they returned, they took their positions again. They started their torturous task, causing instant laughter. The slave at the side began nibbling along the thighs and ribs randomly, drawing a shriek of laughter. Taking her cue from her resourceful slave, Mistress Kathleen did the same, drawing even more shrieks of laughter. But still no call for mercy from Tracy. Then the unexpected happened. Tracy suddenly screamed in ticklish agony.
Looking down, she saw that the two slaves at the reporter’s feet had begun sucking and nibbling the toes while still scratching the arches. The Mistress’ smile was huge. Her slaves had unwittingly discovered the bound bitch’s weak spot. She called for her top slave, then ordered all four women to continue throughout the remainder of the day to tickle and nibble the woman non-stop. As Mistress Kathleen exited the dungeon, the screams of laughter followed her up the stairs. The Mistress smiled as she went about her other duties.
Five hours later, a male slave approached her. “Speak”, commanded the Mistress. The slave reported that their charge may be about to break. Without another word, Mistress Kathleen hurried past her slave and down to the dungeon. What greeted her were sights and sounds that immediately brought a smile to her face.
As per their orders, the slaves had continued non-stop. The screams of laughter were nearly deafening and she was straining as hard as her bonds would allow. She had apparently wet herself several times from the tickling, though the puddle could just as easily have been sweat, as the reporter’s body was covered in it. The Mistress approached the nearly delirious reporter.
“Do you still find me pathetic, bitch? Do you still think you can resist? If so, I have a few more slaves to add to your torment”. What the Mistress heard next was what she had been waiting to hear.
“NO! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE, I’M…HEEEHEEHEEEHEEEHEEEEHEEEHEE…BEGGING! NO MORE! I’LL TELL YOU EVERYTHING!”
“Not good enough, slut”, said the Mistress, her voice full of venom. “First, I want an apology for each insult you threw at me, then you will tell me that I am the greatest tormentor you’ve ever encountered. After I am satisfied with that, then I will take your information”.
Amazingly, through the tickling, she began a sobbing stream of apologies between screams of laughter, and then praised the Mistress’ techniques. Almost regrettably, but keeping to her word, she ordered the slaves to stop.
After she had caught her breath, Tracy was fed and given water. Then the Mistress ordered the slaves to take their positions again. Tracy cringed at the sound of the order.
“What are you doing? You promised to stop”, she said tearfully.
“That I did, and so I did”, smiled Mistress Kathleen mischievously. “But I never promised not to start again. You speak so well through your delicious laughter, I figured you can give me your info while my slaves enjoy themselves with you some more. Plus, it ensures that you will not go back on your word”. With that proclamation, she gave the slaves the order to begin again.
As the interrogation continued throughout the night, the Mistress wrote down every word the reporter spoke, minus the screams and laughter. When the information had all been written down, she ordered her slaves to continue the torment until further notice. The slaves, always eager to please their Mistress, renewed their efforts. The peals of laughter seemed to shake the house’s very foundation. As Mistress Kathleen went to make her report, she mused to herself that, indeed, resistance is futile
The Power of Tickling II:
Resistance Is Futile
“You are Tracy Armstrong, a hot shot, up and coming expose’ reporter for the local newspaper. You were caught snooping where you shouldn’t have been. Efforts by the Master of Shadows have failed to garner any information from you. That is why you have been sent to me.”
Mistress Kathleen sat in her lounge chair, looking over her new charge. She had to admit she was rather impressed with this young woman. To resist the tortures of the Master was no small feat. He did not become the Master by being soft. He had inflicted every sort of pain on her, short of actually maiming her, temporarily or permanently. Still, Miss Armstrong had resisted revealing her sources to him. The Master was very pleased with Mistress Kathleen’s successes in the past, so he decided to turn the nosy bitch over to the “Mistress of Tickle”, an honor bestowed on her by her peers because of her ability to break slaves with just a touch.
“Must I endure more of this crap? I will not reveal my sources no matter what you do to me, so just give up now,” Tracy sneered.
The Mistress moved quickly from her chair to stand in front of her new victim, grabbing her chin to force her to look into Kathleen’s face. “You WILL reveal all to me by the time I’m finished with you or you will never leave here. It’s your choice. Either cooperate or suffer and be broken. Decide now.”
The defiant woman simply laughed in the Mistress’ face. Without another word, she released the reporter and pressed a button on the intercom. Immediately, two male slaves entered the room.
“Take her from my sight and prepare her”. The slaves complied immediately, taking Tracy from the room, perhaps a little rougher than was needed. Mistress Kathleen allowed herself a smile once she was alone. She loved a challenge and this woman would be tough indeed. But the Mistress had complete faith in her abilities to break the unbreakable.
Two hours later, the Mistress entered her dungeon to find the reporter naked and bound in the sex sling that was suspended from the ceiling, the Mistress’ favorite device. She had modified it so the victim was completely vulnerable all over as well as held completely immobile. She mentally noted to give her slaves a reward for their anticipation of their Mistress’ desire. Brimming with confidence, Mistress Kathleen stepped over to the suspended woman. “Are you ready, little bitch, for the torment that awaits you?”
“You’re wasting your time. I know who you are. You’re the so-called ‘Mistress of Tickle’. Well tell me, o mighty Mistress of Tickle, how do you plan to tickle torture someone who isn’t even ticklish?” She had said this with full confidence and obvious disdain for the Mistress. However, Kathleen was undaunted. How many times had she heard those words before?
Without another word, Mistress Kathleen ran a long fingernail down the reporter’s sole. “Oh, ha ha ha ha ha, no, please stop, o mighty and terrible Mistress. I can’t take it,” Tracy said sarcastically. “You’re pathetic, you know that. This is ridiculous”.
Unshaken, Kathleen continued her preliminary exploration of the reporter’s body. To her surprise, she got little to no reaction from the little wench. Armpits, feet, ribs, thighs—anywhere she touched her, Tracy seemed to resist. Anytime Tracy twitched slightly to a touch, the Mistress would concentrate on that area. But Tracy would not budge. And all the while, the annoying taunts of the Mistress’ capabilities continued to flow. It became obvious that something else would be required.
Perhaps it’s her sight that allows her to brace herself, thought Kathleen. Moving quickly, she grabbed a blindfold from the bench and slipped it over Tracy’s eyes. She once again began her exploring with little change in results. A couple more twitches, nothing more. And still the insults were hurled.
After two hours of attempted tickling with no results, the Mistress ordered her slaves to care for the reporter, but keep her in the sling for the night. She then retired to the dining room, though she was too preoccupied to eat. She knew the bitch was ticklish, but somehow she was able to resist. But how? There had to be a solution.
Mistress Kathleen moved to her office to further ponder the situation. As she mulled over her problem, there was knock at the door. It was her top slave. Bowing her head respectfully, she waited permission to enter.
“Come in and make it quick”, snapped the Mistress. She was not really in the mood to deal with any possible squabbles.
“Begging the Mistress’ pardon, but the males taking care of the new charge have reported that Miss Armstrong is demanding lotion for her skin. She claims to have unusually dry skin and that it’s inhumane to treat her in this manner.”
“SHE WHAT??”, screamed the Mistress, causing the slave to cringe in fear. “How dare she make demands of me! I will…”. Kathleen paused a moment as realization dawned on her. Grinning wickedly, she instructed her slave to have the females apply lotion to the reporter, specifically instructing her to make sure the reporter’s skin was well moisten for the next day. After sending the slave on her mission, Kathleen went to bed. Tomorrow would be a busy day.
Early the next morning, before breakfast, the Mistress returned to the dungeon. She found Tracy in the same position, her skin glistening from recently applied lotion. The reporter eyed the Mistress with derision as she approached.
“Another boring day in the dungeon, o mighty Mistress of Tickle?” she sneered. “When will you get it through your thick head that you can’t break me.”
Rather than respond, the Mistress simply slid a fingernail the length of Tracy’s lotion coated sole. To the Mistress’ delight, there was an instant twitch. Instead of pressing on that point, she began to randomly target different areas with the same results. Everywhere she touched, Tracy’s skin quivered. Another point that made the Mistress happy was the fact that, though the insults continued, they were sounding a little strained, as if the reporter was struggling to contain herself. Kathleen persisted a little more earnestly, drawing more and more twitches but nothing more.
A combination is called for here, thought Kathleen as she once again slipped the blindfold over Tracy’s eyes then resumed her tickling tactics with much better results. The reporter began to squirm under the tickling strokes and the insults stopped coming, as though the reporter was struggling even harder to contain herself. Her feet were drawing the most squirms, as well as her belly, which Mistress Kathleen noted. But when she wiggled her fingers in Tracy’s armpits, she heard what sounded like a slight giggle.
“What was that? Did I just hear a giggle?” the Mistress teased as she lightened her touch and spider tickled both armpits at once, which drew a continued string of giggles. Not relenting, she continued her armpit torture for about a half-hour, which had her stubborn charge laughing lightly the whole time.
Kathleen called for three of her female slaves and ordered them to lotion the reporter again. They complied, daringly adding a few tickles as they did so. Normally, the Mistress would have been enraged by such liberties, but she noticed that Tracy squirmed and laughed louder than before from the random and unexpected multiple tickles. The Mistress now knew what had to be done.
After the slaves had finished, she ordered them to take up positions around the sling, one at each foot and herself and the third slave on either side. With a nod, all four began tickling with practiced, light touches. The result was very gratifying.
Tracy broke out into instant laughter. She tried to buck, but the modified sling prevented her movements. The nosy reporter could only laugh helplessly at her predicament.
After an hour, she took a break. She ordered her slaves to lotion the reporter again and then to join her in the next room. When they had joined the Mistress, she instructed them to take whatever liberties they felt necessary to torture this stubborn bitch.
When they returned, they took their positions again. They started their torturous task, causing instant laughter. The slave at the side began nibbling along the thighs and ribs randomly, drawing a shriek of laughter. Taking her cue from her resourceful slave, Mistress Kathleen did the same, drawing even more shrieks of laughter. But still no call for mercy from Tracy. Then the unexpected happened. Tracy suddenly screamed in ticklish agony.
Looking down, she saw that the two slaves at the reporter’s feet had begun sucking and nibbling the toes while still scratching the arches. The Mistress’ smile was huge. Her slaves had unwittingly discovered the bound bitch’s weak spot. She called for her top slave, then ordered all four women to continue throughout the remainder of the day to tickle and nibble the woman non-stop. As Mistress Kathleen exited the dungeon, the screams of laughter followed her up the stairs. The Mistress smiled as she went about her other duties.
Five hours later, a male slave approached her. “Speak”, commanded the Mistress. The slave reported that their charge may be about to break. Without another word, Mistress Kathleen hurried past her slave and down to the dungeon. What greeted her were sights and sounds that immediately brought a smile to her face.
As per their orders, the slaves had continued non-stop. The screams of laughter were nearly deafening and she was straining as hard as her bonds would allow. She had apparently wet herself several times from the tickling, though the puddle could just as easily have been sweat, as the reporter’s body was covered in it. The Mistress approached the nearly delirious reporter.
“Do you still find me pathetic, bitch? Do you still think you can resist? If so, I have a few more slaves to add to your torment”. What the Mistress heard next was what she had been waiting to hear.
“NO! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE, I’M…HEEEHEEHEEEHEEEHEEEEHEEEHEE…BEGGING! NO MORE! I’LL TELL YOU EVERYTHING!”
“Not good enough, slut”, said the Mistress, her voice full of venom. “First, I want an apology for each insult you threw at me, then you will tell me that I am the greatest tormentor you’ve ever encountered. After I am satisfied with that, then I will take your information”.
Amazingly, through the tickling, she began a sobbing stream of apologies between screams of laughter, and then praised the Mistress’ techniques. Almost regrettably, but keeping to her word, she ordered the slaves to stop.
After she had caught her breath, Tracy was fed and given water. Then the Mistress ordered the slaves to take their positions again. Tracy cringed at the sound of the order.
“What are you doing? You promised to stop”, she said tearfully.
“That I did, and so I did”, smiled Mistress Kathleen mischievously. “But I never promised not to start again. You speak so well through your delicious laughter, I figured you can give me your info while my slaves enjoy themselves with you some more. Plus, it ensures that you will not go back on your word”. With that proclamation, she gave the slaves the order to begin again.
As the interrogation continued throughout the night, the Mistress wrote down every word the reporter spoke, minus the screams and laughter. When the information had all been written down, she ordered her slaves to continue the torment until further notice. The slaves, always eager to please their Mistress, renewed their efforts. The peals of laughter seemed to shake the house’s very foundation. As Mistress Kathleen went to make her report, she mused to herself that, indeed, resistance is futile
