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Verneresse (super-long)

munchausen

TMF Expert
Joined
Jul 5, 2001
Messages
453
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16
This is the first few chapters of a grand-scale tickling fantasy novel I'm working on at a snail's pace. Some has been posted before on AMT, but a lot is new. It isn't porn, by any stretch of the imagination, but there is some minor sexual content that means that minors should look elsewhere. Nothing any spicier than a typical novel. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Suggestions are welcome. It's M/F, F/F, and F/M.

One: A Vow Broken: A Quest Begun
The first of it came in a most unlikely location. When one becomes a hermit, one expects a certain measure of seclusion from the world=s problems, a certain measure of privacy and escape. Such was the dwarf mage Drumpf=s expectation when he retreated from the world for the space of a few months to study the new spellbooks he and his adventuring party had uncovered in the ruins of the forgotten wizard's school in the northern part of the continent. His woodland retreat, maintained rather nicely by the store of gold and gems that particular endeavor had also uncovered, had provided him with just the right balance of luxury and austerity--the beds were soft, the bathchambers were outfitted with Gems of Cleansing Showers which kept him smelling far sweeter than he was accustomed (this last acquisition was at the suggestion of his only companion in his imperfect hermitage--his protégé, the stunningly beautiful, if solemn and studious, Amethyst), and the libraries and larders were delightfully well stocked. Drumpf had decided that matters at his retreat were almost perfect--and, except for the occasional urge for a willing dwarf-maiden, he had settled in to a state of studious, meditative Nirvana. That is, until all the noise started, and shot any chance of extended peace and quiet straight to hell.
One hour before, Amethyst had just stepped out of her "shower" and, donning a robe, began to brush the thick, lustrous blue-black locks that tumbled silkily over her golden shoulders. She had to check her urge to sing softly to herself, as she did every morning--she had taken a vow of silence between the hours of 8:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m., which Drumpf had somewhat arbitrarily decided constituted a solid working day. The vow was necessary only as an exercize in discipline and self-control, and Drumpf would certainly not have punished her for whistling, but Amethyst took this, like most things, very seriously.
She pulled on her underclothes, mage robes, and sandals, took up one of the forty or so thick volumes of magic Drumpf had given her, and walked out the thick oaken door into the meadows to read. She paused a moment to cast a simple cantrip--one with no vocal component--to keep insects and allergens away, and settled down beneath a great oak tree to read in the dappled golden sunlight about fifty yards from the retreat.
"To cast the black flame at an opponent requires a cool head, a quick tongue, and a genuine desire to strike one's adversary down," Amethyst read to herself. "The caster must hold the hands outstretched toward the target, one clenched as a fist, one open, palm out, and chant the following phrase..." Combat spells had never interested Amethyst, who thought combat the province of knights at best and barbarians at worst. She sighed, reclined, unstrapped her sandals, and wiggled her bare toes in the spring grass. She was having a great deal of trouble concentrating--usually not a problem for her. A thick forelock of hair fell across her face--she made two failed efforts to blow it out of the way, then tossed her head to clear it out of her eyes.
It was then that she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the diminutive figure who stood watching her from a short distance away. She thought for a moment that it could be Drumpf, but it was shorter even than the dwarf, standing perhaps three feet tall. It was a gnome, male, with a yellow beard that tapered to an angry point and black leather armor that appeared too large for it--perhaps it was dwarven make. He stood there silently and watched her. She started to hail him in greeting, but, remembering her vow of silence, realized she could not. She simply gazed back, her curiosity beginning to supplant her already scattered studiousness.
Inexplicably, the gnome began to dance. It was hardly a graceful dance--something like a one-legged bear essaying an Irish jig, but its very absurdity captivated Amethyst's attention. She stifled a giggle, and blushed crimson--Drumpf would certainly look askance at laughter intruding on his morning studies. But this little man was so ridiculous...
At that moment, Amethyst was struck from her blindside by a soft, viscous ball of semi-solid white goo. She managed to supress a scream of panic by supreme effort of will as strong threads of spider-silk wrapped around her from shoulders to ankles. She had been sitting up with her knees to her chest to watch the gnome, and the threads bound her in exactly that position. The spellbook fell to her side as she turned her head from the gnome--who had ceased his dance--to regard her attackers.
A short distance away, without her knowledge, had assembled a scene from a nightmare. A giant black widow spider stood placidly regarding her. It was saddled like a domestic horse, and on its back sat a bizarrely beautiful creature. Amethyst had read of the dark elves, who lived in uncharted, dense woodlands, caves, and hidden, baroque palaces hidden by mystic shadows, but she had never before regarded one. The elf woman dextrously leaped from her mount and approached her imprisoned, silent quarry. She stood perhaps 5'7" tall, taller than Amethyst would have imagined an elf--as tall as Amethyst herself, actually. Her skin was as black as obsidian, lightening to an almost silver tone at her lips and the palms of her liong-nailed hands. Silver hair hung in rich curls to her waist, and her chiselled features and great silver almond eyes conveyed a menacing, aristocratic air. She wore a brief suit of black leather armor that revealed at least as much as it concealed--her body was lithe, lean, and muscular, and her obsidian skin accentuated the cut lines of her leg and abdominal muscles. Her black boots shone with polish, and rare-looking jewelry decorated her arms and breast.
"Hello, little one," she said, her voice dripping smoky elegance. "I apologize for the rudeness of our acquaintance, but I have reason to believe that you are the apprentice of the dwarven mage Drumpf."
Amethyst's violet eyes flashed beneath her long lashes, then she remembered herself enough to shake her head vigorously.
The elf smiled. "I see. You are simply a peasant girl who happens to be reading about..." She lifted the book Amethyst had let fall, "the casting of the black flame spell. And, because a mute would have no need to read magic, I would imagine that you have taken a vow of silence, as well."
Amethyst's flush was enough to confirm the elf's speculations. The gnome rushed in from his vantage point, obviously craving approval.
"I done it, Lady Lorelei! Did'ja see me? I done it!"
"Yes, yes, little one. You have performed well. Return to the palace and you will be rewarded."
The gnome nodded entusiastically, tossed down a pebble from his pack, and vanished with a muted flash of light.
"Now...we must lure your instructor from the confines of his lodge, which, I am sure, is protected by a number of rather nasty magical wards. If he knows that one such as I am here, he will come out fighting, and I'm not certain I'd relish that duel. If, however, he were to emerge to gently upbraid his cherished protege..."
Amethyst shook her head violently, her eyes flashing in defiance. Lorelei looked at her--a lovely creature, swathed knees-to-chest in spider silk with only her raven-tressed head and small golden feet protruding. "I don't think you understand, my dear. I fear you will have little choice in the matter. While your energy may not be as strong as the dwarf's, one source of mirth energy is--unfortunately for you--as good as another."
Amethyst had not a clue what this strange sorceress was on about, but she had very little time to think about it before the great spider glided over, lifted her by her cocoon, and hung her from a tree branch about ten feet off the ground. Huddled up as she was, her hanging position put her at roughly eye level with her captress, and her nervously wiggling bare feet a short distance from her own face. Essentially, she was in a sort of hanging cradle, feeling helpless and not a little humiliated. She had no plan beyond simple defiance and hope that Drumpf would somehow come to her rescue.
Lorelei looked her over, this trussed, barefoot, somehow still courageous apprentice sorceress. It was almost a shame to treat her this way--but the elf had to admit it gave her something of a thrill to break the defiant ones.
"And now, you will attract the attentions of your teacher in a happy, unthreatened manner," the elf said.
Again, Amethyst shook her head violently.
"My dear," Lorelei said, "I am not asking you."
As the elf's long, obsidian fingernail first touched the wrinkled, pink-gold sole of her bare foot, Amethyst's eyes flew wide and a shock shuddered her frame. A new kind of panic gripped her: this was not to be some painful torture that she could heroically resist in stoic martyrdom--she was hanging here barefoot and helpless and this bitch of an elf was going to tickle the bottoms of her feet! She gritted her teeth against rising giggles and writhed in her bonds as Lorelei's fingernails slowly traced lines up and down her high, ticklish arches. Her little toes curled into white-knuckled fists as her face contorted with joyless mirth. Her vow of silence had taken on a new importance now, but she feared it would not last more than a few more seconds...
Lorelei suddenly varied her attack, going from teasing, slow tracings to scribbling her fingertips over the soles of both feet, tickling poor Amethyst well past endurance. A mournful, husky wail of laughter poured forth from the foot-tickled apprentice, rising quickly to higher pitched squeals or bubbling into uncontrollable chuckles like an undammed brook. Her toes, vexed in their fruitless curling defense, wiggled wildly as her bare feet danced behind one another in vain attempts at protection which merely amounted to turning the other cheek. Shattered with her composure, her vow of silence was supplanted by manic laughter that filled the glade and perhaps the entire forest. In her hysteria, Amethyst registered Lorelei's sadistic smile, and the odd amulet that shone ever brighter as she shrieked and howled.
Drumpf jolted from his meditation as Amethyst=s laughter reached his bristly dwarven ears. "What in tarnation?" He growled, annoyed as the spell he had been memorizing slipped from his mind. Rising, he pulled on his tunic and stomped into his boots to find out the source of all this foolishness. AI never picked Amethyst as the type for this sort of tomfoolery," he thought. He paused. "I hope nothin's wrong."
At that moment, Lorelei zeroed in on a particularly ticklish spot where Amethyst=s heels met her arches, and the raven-haired beauty shrieked anew. "That tears it; this is ridiculous," Drumpf said, and stalked off in search of the hubbub.
When he crested the rise and looked onto the meadow, Drumpf's jaw dropped. There stood a spider easily as big as an ox, and his apprentice hanging from a tree and jerking and jolting wildly as a stunningly beautiful dark elf ruthlessly tickled her footsoles with her fingernails. "What could this mean?" He thought briefly, then his brilliant mind hit on the half-remembered legend of mirth energy. "Ungor help us all," he breathed, and set to preparing a spell.
His words were stopped suddenly as a wad of webbing sealed his lips shut. He was able to register the second spider an instant before he too was wrapped from shoulders to ankles in the strong, silken webbing.
As the spider carried the bound dwarven mage to her, Lorelei blessedly stopped her tickling of Amethyst's poor feet. The tortured woman gasped for breath, rubbing the soles of her feet together as if to comfort them in their misery. "I'm...s-sorry...Drumpf....Sh-she..."
Drumpf looked into her eyes, forgiving her with his gaze above the web-gag. The spider hung him at Amethyst's side. Lorelei walked up to him and tore aside the gag, taking a felw bristles of the dwarf's thick grey beard with it. "Ouch! What do you want with me, hag?" The appellation hardly seemed to fit the elf-woman's beauty, but Amethyst declined to comment.
"Two things, oh stumpy magus," Lorelei mocked. "First, the location of the volume of the mad jester Hieronymo--a location that, I'm told, you are one of perhaps eight people in the world who knows. Second, I want your mirth energy, which I believe to be quite powerful. I anticipate that the first will be facilitated by my extraction of the second."
"Wh-what? Mirth energy? Foolishness! Apocryphal madness!"
ABelieve what you will. I and my masters have determined how to harness the energy to boost the power of minor magicks. With the tome of the Mad Jester, we will enhance those abilities considerably. All you have to do is tell me the location--this ring," she held up a silvery gem that adorned the smallest finger of her left hand, Awill tell me if you lie. I can extract mirth energy from anyone. You need not suffer the humiliation."
Amethyst regarded her mentor with a sidelong glance. Was it possible that he feared the same tortures she had suffered? Drumpf set his mouth in a defiant glower. "I'll not tell the location of one of the most dangerous magicks in this world to a dark elf ," he pronounced.
Lorelei smiled almost gleefully. AVery good then,@ she said, and pulled the boots from Drumpf=s large, somewhat furry bare feet and tossed them to the ground.
Her fingernails rasped audibly against the barefooted dwarf's leathery soles. He maintained his composure at first--he bit his lip and remained silent, only the occasional jerks of his body and the tormented curling of his stumpy toes attesting to his discomfort. Soon, however, a raspy chuckle escaped him. As the cruel dark elf's fingernails danced over the bottoms of his bare feet, the mighty dwarven mage began to wheeze and rumble with ticklish laughter--soon, as she held back the pudgy toes with one hand and tickled the very center of his flat bare dwarvish foot with the other, he howled, tears rolling into his mussed beard.
In spite of herself, Amethyst was almost moved to laugh at the spectacle of her wise and gruff teacher brought to hysterics by the touch of a woman's fingers on the sole of his square, blocky foot. Remembering the dire nature of their situation, though, she snapped back to reality and began covertly mumbling a spell, hoping fervently that Lorelei would not notice.
Her final lines turned into a shriek, however, as Lorelei reached over with one hand to tickle the bottoms of Amethyst's still-helpless bare feet. "Uh-uh-uh, little beauty," Lorelei said. "We can't have you playing the hero, now can we?"
For nearly an hour, the bizarre spectacle continued--dwarven master and gorgeous pupil, hanging side-by-side barefoot from a tree, writhing and howling in strange harmony as the stunning elf-woman scratched and teased their ticklish feet. At last, out of equal measures of fear for his heaving and sputtering protégé and surrender to his own torture, Drumpf sputtered, "Verneresse!"
Lorelei stepped back. AVery well. I thank you for your candor. I am sure, in the new world order, we will find a place for a dwarf of your wisdom and skill." With that, she was gone.
A quick chant freed them both, and they slipped sheepishly back into their shoes. AWhat will we do, Drumpf? We can't let them find that book.@
AWe certainly cannot, dear. Fortunately, Lorelei appeared to know little of the legend of Verneresse. It is an enchanted, lost city whose location can only be discerned from a map whose pieces are scattered among four powerful magicians. Though she does not know this, her masters probably will. We must gather my travelling companions and find that tome before they do."
Amethyst, awestruck, was silent. Drumpf looked at her and smiled ruefully. "An inauspicious beginning to an epic adventure, perhaps," he said, Abut this is the sort of thing that makes true heroes."
Exhausted, they returned to the safety of the lodge to rest, to plan, and to call on old friends.
 
Great!

I was going to post earliar, but kept putting it off. First off i want to say that this story show's great promise. I personanly hope you get the chance to finish it and don't get discorouged. I am personaly a big fan of Fantasy based tickling. I have only two suggestions, and of course these are only my humble opinion,s so feel free to ignore them ;-).
I personaly just think you should have more ythen foot tickling. Now, i know that for anybody with a foot fetish, this story is great. I just fnd that if you focus on the feet, you can miss many targets and different types of tickling. i admit i would have liked to have seen that sea monster tickle a few upperbodies, and particulerly that priests female companion get an upperbody tickle ;-) .
My second suggestion is this. Do not make a tickling noval, but make a noval with tickling. Confused? Well, basically i'm suggesting that focus more on charactors and such for a couple reasons. First off, if you have charactors being tickled all the time, your going to run out of original idea's of how to tickle them sooner or later. Maybe i'm wrong though, maybe your a very imaginative person and can think of all different ways. I admit i sometime have troubles doing it. Also, try to make it so it's a good book without the tickling. So, if somebody started reading it, they wouild feel compeled to read it, even if there were parts without the tickling. I personnly hope to one day write something like this, but make sure the story plot and charactors are so good that the tickling doesn't alway's have to be there.
Anyway, just a few suggestions. Keep up the good work, and don't be worried about about a lack of replies. Even the best of writers usually only get three or four.
 

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