Announcing: A Story-Writing Contest with Prize $$$ (A Real Contest, Not a Story!)

The dig dug dog Story-Writing Contest

Calling all writers! Announcing an opportunity to win prize money for writing tickle fiction. This contest is open to all TMF members 18 years old or over and is subject to the following guidelines, rules and conditions:


BASICS
Stories must be m/f or f/f in orientation and have a minimum length of 3000 words.
All stories must be newly written for the contest and must not have been previously made public.
All characters who give or receive tickling must be 18 years of age or over.


THEME
I am looking for stories featuring girls who deny being ticklish and who try hard not to react to any tickling performed on them. Much of the story’s drama should be found in the attempt to overcome the ticklee’s resistance and make her laugh, writhe, and submit to the tickler’s intentions (whatever those may be). Besides tickling itself, other creative (but fairly wholesome) techniques might well be used to wear down or weaken the girl’s mental defenses. When sustained tickling occurs there should be strong and logical reasons for it. Any interrogation, initiation, persuasion, revenge, or similar type of scenario is welcome. It is vital that all “tickling situations” be believable within the setting of the story. This applies particularly to stories involving celebrities or characters in TV or film. Well-crafted celebrity stories are a favorite of the judge (including stories set within the framework of an existing show), but non-celeb stories are also encouraged if they employ nicely-developed characters. Overall quality, in terms of description, motive, plot and so forth, is what really counts. Successful stories will highlight some of the psychological dimensions of tickling and being tickled. Regarding preferred tickle-spots, “it’s all good”, but some variety is desirable. Stories may certainly be intense, but never cruel in the sense of causing the girl true emotional anguish or physical pain. Finally, grammar and punctuation are important and will be considered in the judging.


PRIZES
There must be a minimum of seven (7) entries to the contest for the awarding of prizes to take place. However, if fewer than seven stories are posted by the contest deadline—and only in this case—every writer who submitted a story will receive $10 for his or her effort. Once at least seven entries are received, the following prize structure goes into effect:

1st prize--$60
2nd prize--$40
3rd prize--$20


SUBMISSIONS, POSTING AND CONTEST DEADLINE
All story submissions, comments and questions regarding the contest should be posted to this thread. Prior to posting a story the writer should e-mail a copy of it to dig dug dog at [email protected] for the purpose of identity confirmation and awards. Words of praise or evaluation posted to individual stories by general TMF members are also welcome. To be considered for prize money or the $10 fee (if fewer than seven stories are submitted), a story must be posted to this thread by midnight, TMF time, Sunday, March 2nd, 2003.


JUDGING
To be considered for prizes or fees, all stories must conform to the three items listed above under “BASICS”. Judging for 1st, 2nd and 3rd prizes will be based on how closely and effectively submissions realize the story features presented above under “THEME”. dig dug dog, contest sponsor, will be the sole judge of story quality and will award all prizes. Myriads, Tzar of the TMF, will serve as Arbitrator in the unlikely event of a dispute concerning the contest rules.


AWARDING OF PRIZES OR FEES
Fees or prizes will be announced and distributed by March 9th, 2003. Winners will be paid in cash sent registered mail. Details of distribution (e.g. mailing addresses) will be coordinated between the winners and dig dug dog via e-mail.


Thank you all and good luck! A special thanks to the TMF for hosting this contest.

dig dug dog
[email protected]

WHAT A GREAT IDEA!!!

Great idea 3D, I'll certainly submit one for sure. I hope your response is good. And I suggest that all story writers in here do the same.

Minimum length?

Hi, DDD -- this contest is a great idea, and has seriously motivated me to get my grand tickle-project finished.

I have a story which is in the second draft at 2550 words. I believe it is exactly what you are looking for (FFFF/f extreme tickle abuse ). I will try to have it finished by the end of the month.

Thanks,

Scribe and Valerie--thanks so much for your posts. I'm very happy you are on board with this.

Valerie--I can meet you part way and come down to a 3000 word minimum, no less though!

NOTE TO ALL: Minimum word requirement is now 3000.

Speak to you later and good luck!

dig dug dog

Tickle Tyrants! (FFFF/f)

Thanks, DDD; I wish I had read that *before* I had expanded the story to 3445, LOL! I have e-mailed a conformation copy to you

In any case, here it is ... I hope you all enjoy it!

Tickle Tyrants
by Valerie Sonn

(All characters are 18 or over. Contains minor violence.)

Deanna, the new girl at Foothills College, was beautiful, smart, and rich ... but just a little bit conceited. The other "queen bees" couldn't stand her, and they desperately wanted to take her down a peg.

Three of the most popular cheerleaders had tried to become friends with her: Valerie, the mysterious dark-eyed Asian beauty; Andrea, the statuesque but sadistic blonde head cheerleader; and Suzy, a cute and bouncy redhead. They had invited her to the gym for an after-hours drink, with a vague idea of challenging her to a drinking contest or something along that line, to humiliate her and bring her down a peg or two. They had to do something to straighten her out before she became insufferable!

*****

"Wow, this stuff is strong," exclaimed Deanna with a giggle as she coughed on the Japanese rice wine Valerie had offered her. "But I like it." Val smiled and handed her another glass, and all four girls toasted Foothills College and its fully equipped gymnasium. For this occasion the girls were dressed casually. Deanna wore a ribbed sleeveless athletic top and designer shorts, with expensive brand-name sneakers on her size 9 feet. Valerie was wearing her usual blue jeans and a snug black top that emphasized her small but round breasts, with black, zip-up fashion boots. Andrea was also clad in blue jeans and a tight top, with high-heeled pumps on her bare size 8 feet. Suzy wore a cute miniskirt and lace see-through top with a bodice underneath, and also wore high heels over bare feet.

Deanna ran a hand through her long brown hair and pointed her thumb at a heavily padded trainer's table, set about 6" off the ground and containing wrist and ankle "stirrups" to secure the "student." "What is that for?" she asked.

"Oh, that's an Ab-Mistress Table," laughed Suzy. "You'll be on it soon enough, when you have to take Miss Leilani's ab workout class. My tummy is still sore from last week!"

Valerie and Andrea, both veterans of that table, exchanged a knowing glance -- they both knew how they were going to humiliate Deanna!

"You know," began Valerie, "I wonder if Deanna is up to a challenge. Dee, I'll bet $50 that you can't last for two minutes on that table with me standing on you."

Deanna laughed right in Valerie's face. "Ha! You're only, what, 95 pounds? You're such a tiny girlie, of course I can hold you. The real challenge would be if you could hold me standing on your tiny little body. Sure, I'll bet you fifty bucks."

Deanna lay on her back on the table, and Suzy gently pulled the girl's arms over her head and secured her wrists in the Velcro stirrups as Andrea did the same to Deanna's ankles. Now the cute girl was stretched out quite helplessly on the workout table, unable to move an inch. Valerie sat down and slowly pulled off her boots, and then her socks, revealing the most perfect size 6 feet Deanna had ever seen. Suzy also sat down and took off her high heels, and a laughing Andrea did the same. Deanna began to get nervous as she realized that the girls could do almost anything to her as she lay bound to the table. Valerie winked at her and began to chuckle.

"Comfortable, dear?" asked Andrea, now standing beside the table. Deanna looked around to see that Valerie and Suzy were also looking down at her and smirking.

"You are going to get a proper welcome to our delightful college," began Valerie. "We value modesty and good manners here, and that means we don't like stuck-up girls, so we're going to teach you a lesson you won't learn in your regular classes. It's called Humility 101, and someday you'll thank us for it."

Suzy knelt down at Deanna's feet and said, "Seeing as we're all barefoot here, it would be good manners for you to go barefoot too." With that she began to undo Deanna's laces and slowly pulled off each canvas shoe, exposing the dark-haired beauty's cute white tennis socks, which were slightly damp and lightly scented from perfume mixed with nervous girl.

Andrea bent down and very gently pulled up Deanna's sleeveless top so that her tummy and sides were as exposed as her smooth underarms. Deanna shuddered as the cool air washed over her bare skin.

"Goose bumps, I see," squealed Andrea as she poked one well-manicured red-lacquered fingernail into Deanna's side. The captive let out a yelp and tried to pull away.

"Ooh, is somebody ... ticklish?" giggled Valerie as she knelt by Deanna's shoulders and wiggled her slender fingers in front of the captive's face. Suzy began to peel off Deanna's little socks, revealing soft, smooth feet which had obviously been well cared-for ... and therefore highly sensitive. Suzy began to lightly drum her fingertips on Deanna's lovely bare soles while Valerie started to poke her underarms and Andrea began to tickle and poke her waist.

Deanna was biting her lip to keep from laughing ... the sensation of thirty slender fingers lightly stroking her entire body made her want to jump out of her skin! She clenched her fists in their bonds and tried to control her breathing, emitting only a stifled squeak. She wasn't sure if they girls knew her secret -- the best way to tickle her senseless -- but she did know that begging and pleading would only egg them on more. She was determined to keep her composure.

Valerie was amused at Deanna's apparent lack of ticklishness and had now forgotten all thoughts of standing on her -- she wanted the girl to give in to tickling, which would be far more humiliating! She kept lightly and rapidly stroking the other girl's smooth underarms with the pads of her fingers. Andrea tried digging her fingertips into Deanna's sides and wiggling them, while Suzy took her index finger and traced a path along the underside of the bound girl's toes. Deanna had lovely feet, soft and smooth ... why wasn't she reacting more strongly? Maybe she wasn't really all that ticklish?

Valerie stopped her underarm-tickling and came over to kneel beside Andrea. Val pulled a very soft feather from her purse and began to run it gently around Deanna's nipples, which promptly became erect ... yet the girl kept holding her own. Andrea began to poke each pair of Deanna's ribs in turn with her forefingers, counting them off up and down. Suzy, enthralled by Deanna's gorgeous bare soles, began to lick them with the tip of her tongue, from heel to toes and then along under her cute toes and back down all across her soft, creamy white arch and down to her heel again, which she bit ever so gently. Deanna moaned but still didn't burst out laughing.

Valerie had the shortest nails of the three ticklers, cut just flush with her delicate fingertips and rounded nicely. She idly poked her index finger into Deanna's belly button and wiggled it lightly. Deanna began to squeal. Valerie giggled and dug her fingertip in a little deeper and began to rotate her hand in a circle. Deanna squealed louder. "Suzy, get me something slippery," said Valerie. The redhead grabbed a bottle of baby oil from her gym bag and tossed it to Val, who poured a little on Deanna's bare stomach. Valerie and Andrea both began to massage her with the oil, making sure to dig their fingertips in frequently while Deanna tried so hard to hold back her laughter.

Once the bound girl had been thoroughly oiled, Valerie began to slide her fingertip in and out of her belly button, swirling her fingers around and poking Deanna's entire stomach, which was stretched out invitingly in all its helpless glory. The bound beauty turned many shades of red as she tried desperately to hold back the wild hyena laugh that wanted to burst forth from deep inside her, and Val was determined to bring it out! Valerie's fingers, however, were beginning to tire; at least 15 minutes must have gone by, yet Deanna did not crack. Val couldn't give in now, or Deanna would win.

"Hey, this is an Ab-Mistress table we have her on," Val said suddenly. Let's show her our own version of an Ab-Mistress workout."

"You're not going to stand on her, are you?" asked Suzy nervously.

"Not quite," replied Val with a smile as she sat down at Deanna's feet. Then the wicked Asian girl stretched out her legs and rested her own bare soles lightly on Deanna's helpless tummy. "Dee, you're going to find out that toes can be tickle tools as much as tickle targets." With that, Valerie dug her toes into Deanna's oiled ribs and began to wiggle them. Deanna's face scrunched up and the captive began to emit a high squeal ... that was the key, her terrible secret! Deanna couldn't stand to be tickled by toes -- it made her crazy! Worse, these three evil, playful girls were about to find out!

"I'm ...Ooh, nooooo, pleeeeeeease, hahahahahahahahahaha!!! Oh, no ... hee-hee, hee-hee, hahahaha, oh no, eeeeeeeeeek!!!" The bound beauty shrieked and struggled against the stirrups, but she couldn't move an inch and was completely helpless under Valerie's feet. She felt her entire body melting with a warm electricity, her muscles convulsing and twitching uncontrollably as Valerie forced that laugh out of her lungs. Deanna hated the tickling because of its intensity, yet she loved it at the same time, all the more so because the girl that was dominating her was so small and petite ...

Andrea sat down on one side of their captive while Suzy sat on the other, and each girl extended her legs and began to poke Deanna's sides with their combined twenty pretty, pedicured toes. Deanna could do nothing but shriek and howl with hysteria as the three naughty vixens teased and abused her body as she lay helplessly bound and at their not-so-tender mercy. She couldn't take the combined tickling of thirty wiggling toes ... Deanna thought she was going to die right then and there!

The three giggled and laughed with obvious pleasure as they abused poor Deanna's shapely frame with their feet. Deanna knew they weren't going to stop any time soon, and this realization made the tickling agony even more intense as the captive tried futilely to move away. The stirrups were too efficient, however, and Deanna knew there was no escape. A million thoughts swirled through her mind ... if it were only Valerie doing this to her, she might enjoy it, but there were too many girls, and Deanna was being tickled in too many places at the same time ... and the humiliation of being laughed at by the three friends ... Deanna was in heaven and hell at the same moment, wanting the tickling to stop but never wanting it to end.

Valerie got up, pulled a chair next to Deanna, and sat down on it. Smiling, she rested her feet on Deanna's bare stomach again and teased her, "Now I'm going to toe-tickle your belly button, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Deanna knew there was not a damn thing she could do about it, but she tried to plead, "No, not there, please, I give!" The three girls found this hilarious and laughed at her, while Valerie gently inserted the tip of her big toe into Deanna's slippery navel and began to wiggle it.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Ah, stop! No more," shrieked Deanna, but Valerie just smiled and kept up the tickling, feeling the muscles in Dee's stomach contracting violently under her toes as she skillfully slid her toe in and out of the bound girl's adorable belly button. Deanna convulsed with laughter as the physical sensations overwhelmed her, as did the humiliation at having a girl penetrating her vulnerable, sensitive navel with her toe. It was almost as if she were being raped by another girl. She knew now that Valerie was going to be her Mistress.

Valerie knew it too as she made love to Deanna's deep, oval-shaped belly button with her phallic big toe. She was going crazy with lust as she degraded her captive with this penetration. She tickled Deanna skillfully and without mercy with the delicate tip of her toe. She knew how to keep a belly button from losing sensitivity, varying the sensations by using the fleshy pad of her toe, resting it lightly on the girl's helpless navel and vibrating her foot. Andrea had moved to Deanna's feet and was using her own bare toes to tickle poor Dee's pretty soles, while Suzy found that she could really make Deanna buck when she dug her toes into the captive's underarms and then wiggled them gently.

Deanna was on fire from the tickling, and the giggling, and the utter helplessness of lying bound and almost-naked under three cruel girls' bare feet while they laughed at her and teased her mercilessly. She was a dominant, powerful girl, and had never been so vulnerable in her entire life ... and she loved it as much as she hated it. She despised the relentless tickling, but she loved being teased and mistreated ... she adored it, loathed it ... she was going insane from pleasure, lust, discomfort, excitement, fear ...

Deanna was exhausted from breathlessness and exertion as she fought against her bonds, wanting to escape and yet not wanting to, her entire ticklish body buzzing with magnetism, electricity, pleasure, pain ... she knew she was going to come, and with a loud squeal, she did.

The three girls knew what was happening, and they stopped their tickling. Valerie stood up and placed her foot squarely on Deanna's panting stomach and pressed her weight down hard. Laughing, Andrea came over and set her foot between Deanna's breasts and pushed down hard. Suzy placed her foot on Dee's ribs and put most of her weight on it. The three girls stood there, hands on hips, and laughed at Deanna's struggles for air until she almost passed out under their feet.
The evil girls laughed at her and took turns standing on her stomach ... that is, until the statuesque Hawaiian gym teacher, Miss Leilani, came in.

"Oh, I see you're giving Deanna an Ab-Mistress workout," she said brightly. "That's very considerate of you all." Miss L. was herself quite the sadist and often pretended ignorance of a girl's -- or guy's -- sufferings under her feet on that Ab-Mistress table. Valerie glanced down and saw that Miss L. was wearing sexy, strappy sandals that showed off her perfectly pedicured toes. The Asian girl allowed her gaze to travel up the teacher's muscular, tan thighs ... her skimpy gym shorts which barely covered her perfectly round bottom ... her tight top that showed off her slender waist and proud breasts to best advantage ... her long, luscious, wavy black hair which cascaded over her shoulders and framed her radiant face ... and at that moment she almost longed to be the girl bound on that table, since she knew what was going to happen next.

Andrea knew it too, and being the cruelest of the three, asked her, "Would you like to join in and help us? I think that she needs some additional work."

"I'd LOVE to!" squealed Miss Leilani. The panting, gasping Deanna knew she was done for now. She was so weakened by the tickling and the orgasm that she didn't think she could hold the Hawaiian girl's weight on her stomach without fainting.

"You know," said the gym teacher, "you can give her a better workout by making her abs work harder. Deanna, by any chance, do you happen to be ... ticklish?"

Deanna's heart began to pound again. Oh no, her too?

"Oh, she is, but just a little," offered Suzy helpfully. "You can get her to laugh, but you really have to work hard at it. Deanna just said, in fact, that she would bet $50 that Miss Leilani couldn't get her to laugh from tickling her."

Deanna tried to protest, but Valerie decided to rest her bare sole on Deanna's lips at that moment, pressing hard.

"Oh, really?" asked the gym teacher, looking stern now. "We'll see about that!"

With that, Miss Leilani sat down on the chair and removed her sandals, exposing the loveliest bare soles that Val had ever laid eyes on. She wiggled her toes and gave the trio a knowing wink before standing up and bending over the girl on the table.

"So, you think I can't make you laugh?" teased Miss Leilani as she straddled Deanna's hips and wiggled her fingers. Then, smiling sweetly, she bent over and proceeded to entertain Dee's underarms with her lovely fingertips, expertly poking and probing for sensitive spots and then letting her fingers fly over each one. Deanna tried hard to hold back, but she couldn't stop a few titters from escaping her lips. The teacher then tried poking the girl's ribs, digging her fingers in and kneading up and back ... still, only a few squeaks from her captive.

The three cheerleaders watched and giggled as Miss L. next tried Deanna's waist, pinching some skin between her fingers and wiggling her fingers ... still, not much reaction. She tried tracing her fingertips gently all up and down Deanna's stomach and poked her belly button, which elicited a slight smile from the bound girl.

Sadistic Andrea suddenly chimed in, "Let me try something." She stepped back in to her high heels and motioned the teacher back. Laughing, the blonde stepped up onto the table and carefully placed her foot on Deanna's tummy, and then, still giggling, she began to rapidly and lightly poke Deanna's belly button with the tip of her spike heel. Deanna was surprised by the sensation and began to laugh.

Suzy stepped back into her own high-heeled pumps and sat at Deanna's side and began to dig the pointed toe of her shoe into the poor girl's ribs, wiggling it at each rib: Deanna began to howl!

Miss Leilani and Valerie were still barefoot. The teacher stood up and placed her foot lightly on Deanna's ribs and started to explore the captive with her toes as Deanna screamed with laughter. Valerie came over and joined in, putting her arms around Miss Leilani for balance and then digging her big toe into Deanna's waist on the side not being tickled by Suzy. Andrea took off her shoes again and made room for Valerie, moving back to Deanna's bare soles, which she began to tickle with her own bare toes, trailing them lightly up and down from toe to heel while the tied girl squealed and howled with abandon.

Miss Leilani was becoming aroused by having this beautiful girl under her foot and Valerie's arms around her waist, and, forgetting her professionalism, she found a spot on Deanna's stomach, placed all her weight on it, and then stepped up quickly with the other foot, crushing the helpless, giggling girl mercilessly. The teacher held out her arms, and Valerie stepped up onto Deanna's chest, placing one bare sole carefully on each of the girl's breasts, bared from when her shirt was pulled up. Valerie fell into Miss Leilani's embrace, and the two lovely ladies began to hug and make out while they flattened Deanna underfoot.

Valerie and the teacher began to slow-dance on Deanna's almost-naked body, using the poor girl as a carpet beneath their feet, while Andrea and Suzy were by now cruelly tickling Deanna's exposed sides with their twenty wiggling toes. Deanna could hardly breathe now, and would have probably been crushed to death under the girls dancing on her were it not for the shock-absorbing padding of the Ab-Mistress table.

Miss Leilani threw a glance to the beautiful girl lying helplessly under her feet, and asked, "Are you feeling your abs beginning to weaken from being tickled? It's good for you; it makes for a better workout." Valerie bounced on Deanna's bare nipples, feeling their hardness under her own bare soles, and she silenced Miss L. with a fervent kiss, their two mouths fusing into one as they ignored the bound slave girl on whom they were standing ... and they didn't realize when Deanna had an orgasm, a second orgasm, a third ... indeed, the two lovers were so engrossed in making out that they didn't even realize when the excitement, the lack of oxygen, and the fatigue finally made poor Deanna pass out!

Wonderful story Valerie!!!! I don't know how you'll do in the contest, but I really enjoyed it.

If you ever decide to do a sequel, I'd love to read about "Valerie" being the one getting the treatment (bonus points if NYCity gets to tickle her!!!)

Thank you, NYC ... I'm glad you enjoyed it! I would definitely consider a sequel some time down the road

Love and laughter,

Don't know which I love more the story or staring at your logo.

Thank you so much, Kurch ... and thanks again to Venray too, for making the logo possible

Love and laughter,

Great story Mistressvalerie I LOVE LOVE LOVED it, I would have loved to be in Deanna's position! keep up the good work.

Hey Triple D, we may already have our winner right here, then again whats a contest without competitors huh?, come on all you writers out there, this is a chance of a life time.

Thank you very much, Feetclimax -- it is good to hear from someone who appreciates my efforts.

There is a little story behind the story ... my friend Deanna had asked me to include her as a character in my next tickle-fiction work. She also happens to love female feet, so I had her in mind the whole time I had her on that Ab-Mistress Table in my imagination

Thanks again, and love always,

New Story for contest

Sabrina the Ticklish Witch
In

“Katrina’s Revenge”
Part 1
NOTE: This story takes place after the Third Season, when Sabrina has already passed the test for her witches license and figured out the family secret, but before the Fourth Season, when both Libby and Valerie leave the show. As pilot episode has Sabrina turning 16, and she turns 17 at the start of season 2, she must be nearly 19 years old at this point. We will assume the same for Libby as well, but her age is never given in an episode.



“I don’t know Sabrina, I thought he liked me, but now I don’t know. I don’t think I laughed loud enough when he told me that joke yesterday, and I was wearing the ugly skirt, and my voice cracked when I tried to say hello. And then this morning…” Valerie continued droning on and on. Sabrina just smiled and tried to tune her out. She felt bad about ignoring a friend, but she just wasn’t up to listening to another stream of Valerie’s insecurities.

It hadn’t been a good week. Mr. Kraft had already given her two detentions, one just for staring too long! Worse, her Aunts Hilda and Zelda were starting to get on her case about it. They were even threatening not to let her go to the concert with Harvey. It was a lot easier convincing them that Willard Kraft was evil before they both dated him. I mean, what were the odds!

The problem with being a witch was that things never got easier. First, she’d had to get her Witches License, then figure out the family secret about having an evil twin. Now this! Wasn’t she supposed to have some freedom now that she was 18?

“And Sabrina, I’m telling you, I think he got annoyed after I called him four times Thursday,” Valerie continued. “And then…”

“Look, Valerie, its Harvey!” Sabrina called out, eternally grateful for the chance to get Valerie off that subject.

“Sabrina,” Harvey came up to her and put both hands on her shoulders, “Whatever you do, don’t go to history class!”

“I have to,” she answered confused, “We have a test today! What’s wrong?” Just then, the bell rang.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Good luck!” Harvey called out and ran down the hall to his next class.

“Whoa, someone had to much sugar today,” Valerie cracked as they walked into the classroom.

“Ah, Valerie, Ms. Spellman. I’m so glad you could join us.” A familiar, sarcastic voice greeted them.

“Mr. Kraft!” Sabrina shouted in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I seems Ms Quick called in sick, and the Board of Education thinks that I have nothing better to do than baby-sit you kids all day. I guess there’s no difference between a respected vice-principal, and some lowly substitute teacher,” Mr. Kraft said with a frown on his face, “Now sit down before you both get another detention.”

Sabrina quickly took the first empty seat she saw. Unfortunately, it was directly in front of Libby. Mr. Kraft was never so dangerous as when he felt he was being forced to do something beneath him.

“Now, I have some very important paperwork to do, and you have a test, so I better not hear the slightest sound from anyone.” Mr. Kraft started handing out the tests to the people in the front row to pass back.

“Thanks, freak,” Libby said when Sabrina turned around to give her hers. Oh what a day, caught between Libby and Mr. Kraft.

“You may begin,” Mr. Kraft said, already sitting at Ms Quick’s desk and focusing on his paperwork.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Sabrina said to herself, “I’ll just do my test and get out of here. No problem. I can do this.” Soon, she was completely engrossed in the first question, Mr. Kraft’s detentions, Valerie’s lack of confidence and Libby’s attitude forgotten.

When Sabrina first felt the light brushing on the sole of her foot, it didn’t register on her conscious mind. She absently twirled her foot in the air, letting her black pump dangle from her toes. It wasn’t even worth noticing.

Soon though, it got worse. She planted her foot firmly on the floor, hoping to smother the itch. When the itch got worse, Sabrina slipped her foot out of her shoe and rubbed it on the leg of her desk. Finally, when she could no longer concentrate on the question, she reached down and scratched her foot with the eraser on her pencil.

“I didn’t know freaks got athlete’s foot,” Libby whispered behind her. “How gross.”

Gritting her teeth, Sabrina tried to block out both annoyances. Libby was easy, but the itching on her foot wouldn’t go away.

“What am I doing?” Sabrina thought suddenly, “I’m a witch!” She pointed her finger in the direction of her feet and cast the spell. Mercifully, the itching stopped. Finally, she could get back to her test!

Sabrina’s respite lasted only minutes before the itching came back. But this time it was worse, a light brushing on the arch of her left foot. So light, that it didn’t itch anymore really. It more…more tickled!

Sabrina’s eyes flew open wide. She’d always been ticklish ever since she was a little girl, especially on her feet. She could feel the sensation, like the tip of a feather, running up and down her high arch, from her heel to the balls of her toes. No matter of she twisted of turned her foot, it continued.

Not only did the sensation not go away, it got worse. The feathery touch started becoming more than a distraction. Sliding faster up and down her arch, Sabrina felt herself on the verge of chuckling or tittering like a child. Tears formed in her eyes, and it became harder and harder to read the words in from of her.

Maybe she should cast another spell to make it go away. She started thinking of a way to cast one that would work this time. But it was getting harder to think, harder to…

“Ms. Spellman, if there’s something funny about Ms. Quick’s test, I wish you’d share it with the class!” Mr. Kraft’s voice boomed across the classroom. Sabrina became aware suddenly that her face had broken into a huge grin, and now everyone was staring at her. She grew red with embarrassment.

“Sorry, sir.” Sabrina said. Her voice cracked on the last word, and she had to close her mouth quickly before a giggle escaped. For some reason, neither her shoes nor socks provided any protection at all.

“One more interruption, and you have detention tonight.” Interruption! She had just smiled!

The sensation moved just then, traveling from her arch to the balls of her feet. And now it was no longer a feather, but a paintbrush. Sabrina could feel hundreds of individual bristles glide over her skin. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Her left hand had balled up into a fist, and the toes on both feet were clenched tight.

“What’s the matter geek,” Libby whispered behind her, “Now you look constipated!”

The sensation on her foot started swirling now, circling around and around the balls of her feet, directly beneath her big toe. Sabrina heard the pencil in her right hand snap, as that hand to became a fist. All thoughts of tests and Libby vanished instantaneously. All her energy was now being spent in trying to not give in to that tickling sensation and laugh.

Oh, no! It was moving up to her toes! No matter how tightly she had them clenched, she could feel the bristles caressing the undersides of each toe. It started with her baby toe, then moved up to the next, headed for her big toe again.

Spellcasting was impossible now. Every bit of Sabrina’s concentration, every bit of her energy was going to fight the laughter building inside her. Her head was down on the desk now, her long blonde hair spilling over the sides of the desk. She wasn’t going to laugh. She wasn’t going to laugh! She wasn’t going to humiliate herself again in front of everyone. She wasn’t going to give Kraft the chance to give her a detention.

Now the sensation had wormed its way between her toes. It had spread now, afflicting her right foot as well as her left. She banged her head on the desk in on last attempt to fight off the inevitable, and thus drew the attention of every student in the class. They saw Sabrina apparently in the middle of some kind of fit with her body twitching and her face the color of a tomato.

Before anyone could help, however, Sabrina broke. She threw back her head and howled like a wolf at the moon.

“HAHA AHAH AHAHAH A A AHAHAH STAWWWPPP IT AHAHAHAH LEAAHAHAH LEEAAVVEEE MY AHAHAH AHAHAH FEEHAHAHAH FEEETTT ALONEEE HAHAH AHAH A AHHHAHAHAHH CANNNN’TTT STANHAHAHAHH STANNDD ITTTT ANYMORHOHOHOHOHO!!!!!”

“Ms. Spellman, you have detention!” Mr. Kraft barked immediately. “Now cut that out immediately!”

Sabrina didn’t even hear him. She was laughing so hard now that she fell off of the chair, and began rolling around on the floor. She began pounding her fists into the hard tile and kicking her feet, like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. The tickling had now enveloped both feet, touching every square inch of delicate flesh.

Even Mr. Kraft could now see something was wrong. “Sabrina, are you alright?” He asked, actual concern in his voice for the first time. One of Sabrina’s black pumps flew off her madly kicking foot and slammed into the blackboard near his head.

“AHAH AHAHAHAHHA NOOOOHOHOHOHO OHOHOH HAHAHAHAHHAH NOOOOO III’MMMM HAH AHAHA A AHAHHAHAHAHH NAAAWWWWTTT HAH AHAHAA HAHAH HELLLLPPPPPP MEHEHEHE EHEHEHEHHEHEH PLEAASSEEHSESEESSE EHEHE EHEEHEH!!!!!”

Both shoes long since kicked off, Sabrina now ripped off both cotton white socks and rolled on the ground, holding her small bare feet like they were on fire. It felt like a thousand feathers and brushes were attacking them, squiggling over every centimeter of her pink soles. All thoughts of dignity or saving face had vanished from Sabrina’s mind. All she was thinking about was making the tickling stop.

“Libby, Valerie, take Sabrina down to the nurse. Immediately!”

Libby and Valerie each grabbed and arm and started carrying her to the door. As soon as Sabrina felt their touch, the tickling on her feet began to ease. By the time they had gotten her out into the hall, it had stopped completely.

“Eewwww, now I’ve got freak sweat on me,” Libby complained. The laughter had left Sabrina so weak, that even with her fits of laughter ending, she still couldn’t walk unaided.

“Ehehe eheheh sorrrryyyyy ehe eheh,” Sabrina said still giggling, “I’m heheheh jussssst sssoooo ehe eheheh ticckkkklishhh” Still delirious, Sabrina had no idea who she was speaking to. Afterward, she wouldn’t even remember confessing her vulnerability to her biggest enemy.

Libby smiled her evil grin. That information could be useful later.

And nobody noticed the very familiar face staring at them from the other end of the hallway.
+++++++++++
"What happened," Salem asked as Sabrina ran through the front door, "did you run into a tornado?”

Sabrina only shook her head. The school nurse, fearing Sabrina had had some kind of seizure, had sent her straight home. Sabrina hadn’t had the chance to fix her hair, which now looked like a haystack, or her make-up, which had flowed down her cheeks with her tears, leaving her resembling a clown.

“Don’t ask. Just tell me where my aunts are!” Sabrina’s patience had long since worn out.

“I guess being ugly has made you mean! They’re in the kitchen.”

“Oh my gosh, what happened to you?” Zelda exclaimed as she walked into the living room.

“Did you and Libby finally get into a fight?” Hilda asked as she followed behind her sister, “I hope that bitch looks a lot worse than you!”

“Hilda!” Zelda yelled reproachfully, “Let Sabrina tell her story.”

The three Spellman witches sat down, and Hilda and Zelda seemed truly horrified as Sabrina told of the tickle attack on her bare feet. “It must have been magic,” Sabrina concluded, “But I don’t know any witch who would want to do this to me?”

Zelda nodded, “It was definitely the dreaded Cootchie Cootchie Coo spell. Very few witches are strong enough to cast the counter-spell after the feathers start tickling their feet.”

“I know I couldn’t,” Sabrina shook her head.

“Tell me about it,” Hilda answered, “I broke up with this warlock in the middle ages, and he kept me laughing for all of 1531 and into the spring of 1532! I still can’t think of the Hundred Years War without a giggle.”

“But Hilda, Sabrina’s half mortal. Her body just can’t take the strain of that much tickling. She’ll lose her mind. We have to find out who did this to her! Maybe…”

Just then, Zelda was interrupted by the ding of the toaster that meant a message from the Other Realm had arrived. All three witches ran into the kitchen, where Zelda grabbed the post card that had popped up.

“Oh my goodness! I’m afraid this explains it. It seems that Katrina has escaped from prison.”

Katrina! Sabrina’s last memory of her identical twin was the look of pure malice on her face right before she threw Sabrina into what they both thought was an active volcano. Fortunately, it had been a fake, a test from the Witch’s Council to see which one was the evil twin.

“What are we supposed to do?” Sabrina cried out in fear. She still had nightmares about her twin.

“According to the Witch’s Council, you are supposed to drink this,” Zelda pointed, and in a flash a glass goblet filled with a golden liquid appeared on the table.

Sabrina had never drunk a potion before without some catastrophe befalling her, but she’d so anything to protect herself from Katrina. Also, Aunt Zelda was more cautious then she was and better at making potions. If she thought it was a good idea, Sabrina was in. She quickly grabbed the potion and downed it in one gulp.

“Wow!” Sabrina exclaimed, “That tasted like honey! I’ve never known a magic spell to taste so good before! Tell me, how will this protect me from Katrina?”

“It won’t. I’m sorry, Sabrina, but that wasn’t really a spell. It blocks all your magic, preventing you from using any magic for the next 48 hours.” Zelda said sadly.

“What!” Sabrina shrieked, standing up so violently she knocked the chair down, “Why would you do this to me! How am I supposed to defend my self from Katrina now?”

“Calm down, dear,” Zelda grabbed Sabrina by the shoulders, “The Other Realm police can find Katrina. They can track her down by following her trail of magic. The problem is, since you two are twins, your magic is identical. If you’re running around, casting spells, the Other Realm police won’t be able to tell them apart from Katrina’s. All you’d be doing is helping hide her.”

“You’re sure about this?” Sabrina asked skeptically.

“Absolutely,” Hilda stepped in, “With your magic blocked, they’ll find Katrina in no time. Trust me, my evil twin has escaped six times. Six!”

“But what if she casts the Coochie Coochie Coo spell at me again?” Sabrina asked meekly.

“But that’s just what the Other Realm police expect her to do!” Zelda exclaimed, “They’ll be waiting for that. They’d have Katrina before your second ‘Ha’. If anything, you’re the safest one of all of us.”

“Well, if you put it that way…”
++++++++

Libby was fast asleep, enjoying her usual dream. It was the one where she’d been proclaimed Queen of Westbridge, and everyone from teachers to the freaks were bowing in front of her and kissing her feet. Only an annoying whisper in her ear kept her from enjoying it completely.

That whisper eventually woke her up. Upset at being taken from her favorite dream, Libby was in even more of a bad mood than usual. Looking around the room, she noticed Sabrina standing quietly near her dresser.

“What are you doing here freak!” She cried out, sure her voice would wake her parents, “I mean, I knew you were weird, but this is more pathetic than usual, breaking into my house and watching me sleep?!” Libby pulled the blanket tightly around her, hoping to hear the sounds of someone running down the hallway.

“You know Libby,” Sabrina said in a spiteful tone of voice Libby had never heard her use before, “I didn’t like it when you called me names before, and I definitely don’t like it now.” She pointed her finger at the bed, and Libby felt the blanket ripped out of her hands and tossed across the room.

“Nice pajama’s,” Sabrina said, staring at Libby in her red silk nightgown with a look on her face that made Libby’s blood chill and her face redden. Her nightgown was the latest style, sleeveless with a skirt that went down to mid-thigh. It was partially see-through, and only two thin straps around her shoulders kept the nightgown on her body at all.”

“How…how did you do that?” Libby said mystified, feeling out of control for the first time in her life. Why hadn’t anyone come yet?

“I always thought you had a nice body under that cheerleader outfit,” Sabrina said, her eyes drifting down Libby’s firm thighs. “Now I can see I was right.”

“Now see here!” The fight suddenly returning to the head cheerleader, “I’m not going to lie here and be gawked in my own bedroom! Not by some…superfreak!” Libby moved to get out of the bed, wanting to get her hands on the blonde lesbian and physically throw her out of her room.

“I don’t think so, Libby,’ Sabrina pointed her finger again, and Libby felt herself being thrown back into the bed. Her arms and legs were suddenly spread-eagle, and no matter how much she pulled, Libby couldn’t move any of her limbs an inch.

“How…” Libby’s face drained of all color, and was now white as a sheet. She was trapped, and by no force she could see.

“Silly Libby,” Sabrina grinned evilly, “Didn’t I ever tell you? I’m a witch.”

The truth slammed into Libby like a freight train. Of course! So many bizarre incidents over the years, so many unexplained coincidences…They suddenly all made sense! Libby had always had the feeling that somehow Sabrina had been at the bottom of all those things, but had never been able to guess how. Even though Libby would have laughed at the idea of witches a minute ago, she never disbelieved Sabrina for a second.

And now she was at the witch’s mercy. Libby began screaming for help at the top of her lungs.

“Don’t bother,” Sabrina sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a finger across Libby’s thigh, “Soundproofing your bedroom was a simple spell. Now we can get down to business.”

“Business?” Libby asked, stopping her pleas for help. If her parents hadn’t come by now, they must not be able to hear her. And what could they do against a witch anyway?

“Yes, business. Think about all the insults that you’ve given me, all the cruel tricks you’ve played on me, all the times you tried to steal Harvey from me. I’m here to receive payment for all the damages you done to me."

Libby’s blood was now ice. “How…” she asked again, the words barely

“You always have such a snarl on your face, Libby dear. For once, I’d like to see you smile.” Sabrina pointed again, and this time two large tongues grew out of the end of Libby’s bed near her bare feet. They immediately started to lick her bare soles.

Libby immediately threw back her head and started howling. The tongues were so big, one could cover an entire foot from arch to instep, from heel to toe, in one slurp. And Libby had big feet. Worse, they were rough, like a cat’s tongue. They licked her bare feet, again and again and again.

“Hehe eheheh eheh makeeheheh emaakkkeee eheheheh e theemmmm heheh e ehehehh eheheh staaawwwpppp stawwwppppp stawwwppppp stawwppppp heh eheh ehhhe hehehheheh!!!” Every moment was sheer agony, like sandpaper being dragged directly over her nerve endings.

“Wow, you didn’t last 15 seconds,” Sabrina said mockingly, “I thought a tough girl like you would at least put up a bit of a fight.”

“I I I hah ahahah ahah caaaannnnn’tttt ahahahaahah haaahahahnnn hannddlleee hahah a ahahah ahah beeingg hehe ehha ahah ticckkllllleeheheeed ha ahahh ahahahhhah!!!!!” She started whipping her long black hair from side to side frantically as tears started to pour down her face.

“And to think, all these years everybody has been so afraid of you, Libby. If only they’d known what a big tickle baby you were. We could have made you our bitch years ago,” Sabrina gloated. She pointed again, and two more tongues popped up and started licking the backsides of Libby’s knees.

“HAHA AHAHA AHAHAHAH OHHHHH GAWWWDDDD AHAHA AH AHAH AHHAH NAWEHWOOOO AHAHAHAH AHAHHA AHAHAHHAHAH NAWWWWTTT MORRREEEE LICCKKINNGGGG HAH AHAHAH AHAHHAHH!!!!!!!” They were smaller then the two licking her feet, but almost as rough, as they traveled in swirling motions.

Now Sabrina jumped onto the bed. She straddled Libby’s waist with her thighs, and lowered her face until it was only an inch above Libby’s. “Oh, I’ll make them stop. If you give me a wet juicy kiss.”

“HE EHE EHEHEHEHEH NEEEEVEHEHEHHEHEEEERRRR EHEHE EHEHEHEH EHEH NAAWWWWTT HEH HEEHEH E E EHEHEHEHEH NAWWWTTTT HEH EE E EHEHEH EHHHEHEH LESSSSSIEEHEHHEHEHEHEH!!!!!!!!”

“Oh, your not, huh,” Sabrina smiled, “Then you wouldn’t like this,” She leaned in and kissed Libby warmly on the neck, “or this,” she licked Libby’s throat. “I think you want to kiss me, but you’re just to shy. You just need a little push. Tell you what, if you don’t kiss me, I’ll make sure everyone at school knows just…how…ticklish…you…are.” Sabrina accented the last five words with another kiss to Libby’s neck or shoulder.

Even amidst her hysteria, that threat hit home. Libby’s life was based on being the Queen Bee. How could she bully the freaks if they knew her weak spot? She could be trying to push some geek around, and they’d just tickle her ribs and humiliate her! The image was vivid in Libby’s mind. She’d do anything to prevent that from happening.

“HE EHEH EHEHEHEHEH OKKKKK EHEHEHEHE EHEH E EHEH EHEH ONNNEE EHEHHE E EH E EHEHEH KISSSSSSS HEEH EHEH EE EEHEHHEHEHHEHEHHHE EHHE EHEHH EEHEHEEHEHH JUUSSSSSSHEHEHEHESSTTTTT ONNNNEE E E EHEHHEH!!!!!!!”

“I knew you wanted it,” Sabrina said, and clamped her lips to Libby’s. She forced the cheerleader’s lips opened and slipped her small, pink tongue into Libby’s mouth. At the same time, several new, pencil thin tongues sprang from the mattress and attacked Libby’s toes. Libby’s toes were long as long as a child’s fingers, and very ticklish. When those tongues started sliding under and in between them, her eyes opened wide, and her body spasmed liked she’d been electrocuted.

But poor Libby couldn’t make even a single sound. Sabrina kept their lips pressed together tightly in an almost airtight seal. She continued probing Libby’s mouth with her tongue, enjoying every minute of it. Libby’s spasms forced her to push her body hard against Sabrina’s, intensifying the feelings.

Later, Libby had no idea how long that horrible moment lasted. Her poor feet tortured beyond belief, her laughter silenced by that dreadful kiss, forced to press her body tightly against a member of the same sex freak. Even worse, Libby felt her body become aroused, as Sabrina began grinding their hips together.

It ended for the poor cheerleader in an explosion of white light followed by the sudden contraction of every muscle in her body. Finally, sweet oblivion. Afterwards, Libby was never sure if it had been the most violent sexual climax ever, or just her brain running out of oxygen.

Feeling the body beneath her collapse, Katrina got off. The evil twin seriously considered waking little Libby up and starting all over again, but that would be dangerous. She’d used enough magic to bring the Other Realm police down on top of her already. It was only because she had done the completely unexpected, going after her goody two shoes twin’s archenemy, that she remained free.
After all, if she wanted to punish Sabrina, why would she attack Libby?

Katrina laughed. Now that her plan had been put in motion, everyone would have the answer to that question.


Part 2 continued in this thread (two replies down)

Contest Entry

Wow, great stories everyone!! I really enjoyed reading them. I had a little fun writing this one, hope that you all like it.

Ticklish Tuesday


Tuesday Tyler was a beautiful Southern belle, hailing from a small town near Atlanta, Georgia. She grew up with many privileges, being an only child, and her parents showered her constantly with praise and whatever her heart desired. Tuesday was a blonde, blue-eyed beauty and was enrolled in many children’s beauty contests, winning most of them.

Tuesday’s father was a successful businessman, who owned several car dealerships in Atlanta. Her mother was a socialite, who devoted much of her time to community projects and charity programs. Because they could afford to have help at home, Tuesday was mostly raised by a nanny, and was enrolled in the best private school in the area.

When Tuesday was about eight years old, her family attended a Tyler family reunion in which she met many of her cousins that she had never met before. She had a good time running and playing with them, and her favorite cousin was Jimmy. He was ten years old, and it was he that came up with the idea of all of the kids playing Tickle Tag. “What’s that?” Tuesday asked wide-eyed. Jimmy said, “Oh, it’s just a game where someone is “it”, and when they “tag” someone else, they tickle them. Then, that person is tickled until they say “Tickle Tag” 5 times in a row.” Tuesday didn’t think this sounded too difficult, so she said “Okay.”

Jimmy, of course, was the first to be “it” and he immediately began chasing Tuesday. Because he was older and could run a little faster, it didn’t take him long to grab Tuesday and start tickling her sides. Tuesday shrieked and squealed and tried to get away. “Stop!!! Please, Jimmy, that tickles!!!! Ahhhaahaahaaahaaa……” “You have to say the magic words!!” Jimmy shouted, as he continued tickling her waist and stomach. He was really enjoying himself when Tuesday’s father came along and broke up the game, saying, “Tuesday, we have to go now.” Jimmy said, “Awwwww, Uncle Tim, we were just having fun!!” But, Tuesday wasn’t so sure about that. She ran to her father and hid behind him, to escape Jimmy’s wriggling fingers. As they walked away, she looked back and Jimmy mouthed the words “Tickle, tickle” and she shuddered and practically ran to their car. Later that night, she dreamt that Jimmy and all of her cousins were still tickling her, and it made her feel a little scared, but also a little excited.

Tuesday quickly forgot about her first tickling incident as she grew up, devoting most of her time to school and dance class. As she developed into a teenager, good family genes and her dancing blessed her with a lovely figure. She was easily the prettiest girl in her school, and the object of many young men’s affections. She had long, curly blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes with the longest eyelashes, and the softest, creamiest skin that anyone had ever seen. For her eighteenth birthday, her parents hosted a party for her, to which all of her friends were invited. Tuesday’s best friend, Mia, spent the night with her and was going to help her get ready for the party. Mia was a very petite, cute girl with big brown eyes and short brown hair. That night, they were up late, talking and giggling. Tuesday didn’t have a boyfriend, although it was not for lack of any interest on the boys’ part. Mia had been dating Jeff, the quarterback on the college football team, for about six months. Tuesday loved to hear Mia’s stories of the things that she and Jeff did. Mia was a bit wilder than Tuesday, and Tuesday admired her for her fun personality.

Mia was telling Tuesday about her date with Jeff last night, and how he wanted her to let him tie her up and tickle her. “Oh my God!” Tuesday exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. “Why would anyone do that?” Mia just giggled, and said, “Oh, Tuesday, it is really a lot of fun! Jeff loves to tickle me, and he does it all the time, but that was the first time we’ve tried it when I was tied.” Tuesday began to get a little excited, as she remembered the Tickle Tag game she and her cousins had played so long ago. “Tell me all about it!!” she begged. Laughing, Mia described how Jeff tied her to her bed while her parents were out of town, and started his tickle attack. She said that he alternated between light, ticklish touches, and then would just grab her and tickle her hard until she was begging for him to stop. Afterwards, they had the best sex they had ever had. Tuesday, who was still a virgin, was completely engrossed in her friend’s tale. She and Mia said goodnight, but not before Mia grabbed Tuesday’s waist and started poking her there. “Stopppppppp!!!” Tuesday shrieked, while laughing uncontrollably. Mia’s eyes shone, and she thought, tomorrow night, you are going to have a birthday to remember, girlfriend.

As Tuesday and Mia got ready for the party upstairs, downstairs the Tyler home was a bustle of activity as the caterers went about preparing the food and drinks, and the band that her father had hired to play for the party did their warm-up. Tuesday was really excited, because Joe, the only boy that she really liked, was going to come. Joe was a very good-looking boy with dark hair and sexy brown eyes. He was also on the football team, and was one of Jeff’s good friends. Mia was in on Tuesday’s crush, and was determined to get the two of them fixed up. She knew from Jeff that Joe liked Tuesday too, but was too intimidated to ask her out. She also knew from Jeff that Joe was a tickler, too, and that he would just die to tickle Tuesday until she was as helpless as a kitten. Finally, the girls were ready and the guests began to arrive. Jeff brought Joe along with him, and when he saw Mia, Jeff grabbed her in a giant bear hug, lifting her off the ground, and began tickling her sides. She started to kick and struggle, shrieking with laughter, when she kicked off one of her sandals. Joe, seeing this, began to get a little excited, and he grabbed her soft, pretty foot and began to tickle her sole as she tried to pull away, but he had a firm grip on her slim ankle. Tuesday couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s predicament, feeling a little envious at the same time. Finally, Jeff decided Mia had had enough (for the time being) and let her down. She squealed and swatted at Jeff, and then she turned around and scolded Joe good-naturedly for tickling her foot. As she reached down to put on her sandal, Jeff poked her again in her ribs and she squealed again and jumped. Jeff knew as well as she did that she loved every minute of it, and he couldn’t wait until he could get her alone and tie her up and tickle her to his heart’s content.

Joe walked over to Tuesday and whispered, “Happy Birthday,” and handed her a small package wrapped in silver paper with a white bow on it. Tuesday blushed, and said “Thank you,” and their eyes locked for a moment. Then, in a boldness she didn’t know she possessed, she said, “Do you like to tickle, Joe?” Joe was a little taken aback, and it was his turn to blush, as he stammered,”uh, yeah, I guess I do.” He clearly wasn’t expecting this. Tuesday giggled a little, and his fingers started to twitch, he wanted to tickle her so badly. Little did she know that she had been the star in his tickle fantasies every since he had first seen her. In fact, just last night, he had one of the most memorable tickle fantasies ever. He dreamt that he was in school, in the hallway, between classes, and there was Tuesday, at her locker. Although the hall was crowded with other students, it seemed that they were the only two there. He watched, almost unable to breathe, as he watched her reach into the locker to put her books away. As she did, her midriff-baring t-shirt rode even higher up, enabling him to see her tiny waistline, and each of her ribs was clearly visible. She was also wearing low-rise jeans, so her sexy, curvy hips were also visible. He felt himself harden in his jeans, and he began to approach her, moving slowly and deliberately. When he reached her, he stood behind her, and whispered into her ear, “Hello, Tuesday,” as he allowed his large hands to gently caress her exposed midriff. Tuesday giggled, “Saying, Oh My God, Joe, that tickles so bad!!” Joe was on fire, hearing her sexy little giggle, and he also noticed that she did not tell him to stop, or bring her arms down to her sides. She continued reaching into her locker, as he moved closer and closer to her, allowing his hands to completely encircle her small waist. Then he began to squeeze her waist, allowing his thumbs to poke and prod along her lower ribcage. Tuesday was growing weak with excitement, and didn’t want Joe to stop, as if he could. She laughed again, and began to squirm and buck her hips, grinding against his growing erection. Joe let his hands squeeze her hips, and this really sent Tuesday over the edge, as she shrieked and threw her head back. Her skin was so soft, and she was so delicate beneath his large and muscular hands. He turned her around to face him, and she clasped her hands around his neck as he continued to tickle her from her armpits down her sides to her hips. Tuesday moaned and squirmed and begged him, “Don’t stop, Joe, tickle me, tickle me….”. The alarm clock brought him back to reality with a start, as he rubbed his hard erection and mumbled… “Tuesday, Tuesday…”.

As he replayed this fantasy in his mind, Tuesday had to go speak to some of her other guests, so Joe walked over to where Jeff and Mia were cuddling, noticing that Jeff was still tickling Mia every once in a while. Mia’s eyes were shining with excitement, and Jeff was clearly excited. Joe grinned and wished that it were he that was tickling Tuesday right then.

After everyone had eaten, the band began to play and the kids started dancing. Jeff and Mia were dancing, and Joe asked Tuesday to dance. It was a slow song, and she was almost giddy with the thought of being so close to Joe. As she reached up to encircle Joe’s neck, he placed his hands low on her waist, and they both felt the electricity between them. He pulled her closer to him, and she could feel him growing harder with each movement. He wanted to tickle her so badly, his fingers were practically itching. Tuesday looked up into his sexy brown eyes and said, “I’m glad you came, Joe,” and smiled. Joe lowered his lips to hers in a gentle sweet kiss. He allowed himself a quick squeeze to her waist, and Tuesday giggled and said “Oh, you naughty boy!” but she didn’t try to wriggle out of his grasp. His passion grew and he backed her up step by step until they were out of view of the others. They had arrived at a wall that separated the lawn from the flower garden. Joe whispered hoarsely, “Let me tickle you, baby.” For some reason, just the word “tickle” made Tuesday weak with excitement. Tuesday looked up at Joe and said, “Will you promise to stop when I ask you to?” Joe said, “Yes, baby, of course,” even though he knew once he started tickling her beautiful body, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop. He began to lift her silky blouse, reaching under it and gently rubbing his knuckles across her sensitive ribs and tummy. He got down on his knees and began to softly kiss her belly button, sticking his tongue in it and circling it until Tuesday begged him to stop. She was growing wet from excitement. Joe stopped torturing her belly button long enough to let his fingers tickle her sides up and down. Tuesday was wriggling and squirming, but laughing and clearly enjoying this game. Joe felt himself grow harder as he fingered his way up to her armpits, where he felt the soft skin and tickled there with all of his fingers. Tuesday shrieked and said “Joe!!! Stop, please!!! That tickles too much!!!” Joe grinned at her and whispered, “Nothing makes me happier than seeing a beautiful girl squirming and begging me to stop tickling her,” as he continued his attack on her underarms for a few more seconds. Tuesday began laughing hysterically, and Joe was afraid someone would discover them, so he eased up on that area and began to lightly trail his way down her sides, tickling softly until he reached her waist, and he grabbed it and squeezed her there, just as he had in his fantasy. Tuesday moaned a little and began bucking her hips, saying “Joe, oh, you are driving me crazy!” Joe was lost in his tickle lust, and nothing would make him stop now. He continued to squeeze Tuesday’s waist and ribs, moving down to her hips, which really drove her into hysterics. She slid down the wall to the ground, and Joe followed her, straddling her and continuing his tickle attack on her vulnerable tummy and waist. Tuesday could not believe she was being so turned on from tickling, and even though it was torture, she never wanted it to end. Joe decided to give her feet a little attention too, as he had noticed that they looked so soft, with the pink nail polish on her toenails. As he let up on the attack to her torso, he gave her a soft little kiss. Tuesday was lying in the grass, with her hands above her head, breathing rapidly. Joe turned around and removed her sandals from her right foot, and before she realized what he was doing, he was tickling the sole of her foot. “Joe!!! No, not my feet!!” she screamed hysterically. Joe gave her a devilish grin and continued to tickle her poor, soft, helpless sole, finishing by licking her toes and then nibbling all along her arch. Tuesday was crying in a mix of helplessness and ticklish hysterics. Joe was about to attack her left foot when they heard someone approaching. He helped her up and they tried to straighten themselves up as best they could. Tuesday’s ribs and waist were still tingling with having been tickled so relentlessly, and she barely had the strength to stand up. Joe stood behind her, with one hand on her waist to steady her. Just the presence of his hand on that spot made Tuesday’s mind reel; she half-feared and half-wanted him to tickle her again there. Suddenly Jeff and Mia appeared, and Jeff and Joe exchanged knowing glances. It was pretty clear what had happened, and Jeff smiled at Joe and squeezed Mia’s waist as she giggled.

Jeff said, “Everyone has left and Mia and I were going to take a little ride into Atlanta, would you two like to join us?” Tuesday looked at Joe and saw the lust in his eyes. “Sure,” she replied. They followed Jeff out to his Ford Expedition and climbed in the back. On the way down to Atlanta, Jeff stopped at a gas station and he and Joe got out to go inside. Mia turned and asked Tuesday, “So what were you two doing all that time?” Tuesday blushed as she thought about Joe’s hands all over her body. “Mia, Joe tickled me half to death!! And I LOVED it!!!” Mia’s eyes were full of excitement as she said, “I told you so!! I’ll bet Joe would just DIE to tie you up and tickle you!!” Tuesday couldn’t comprehend how she would be able to stand that, as ticklish as she was. She could only endure a little tickling at a time, and if she didn’t have the power to at least try and fight back, she was afraid she would go insane. “I don’t know,” Tuesday said. “Shhhhhh! Here comes Jeff and Joe again.” Jeff jumped in the front seat and gave Mia a quick poke in the ribs as she shrieked, “You animal!!” Joe was looking at Tuesday and her sandals, which she had kicked off in the truck. He reached down and gently lifted her feet into his lap. Tuesday panicked, saying, “Oh no, Joe, not my feet, PLEASE!” “Shhhhh,” Joe said, as he began to softly massage her feet. Ahhhhhhh, Tuesday thought, this feels wonderful. She leaned back against the door of the truck and closed her eyes. It felt so relaxing. Joe continued to massage her soft, pretty feet until he could stand it no longer. He positioned her feet so they were resting against his growing erection. He began to lightly tickle the sole of her left foot. Tuesday’s eyes flew open and she said, “You tricked me!!” as Joe began to laugh wickedly and he dug his fingers into the tender sole. “Ahhhaaahaaahaaaaa, STOP, please!!” Tuesday screamed. Joe continued his tickle assault on her left sole, and then switched to her right. Tuesday was laughing uncontrollably, as Joe gently walked his fingers up her ankles, then her knees, as he squeezed the tops of her knees, and then tickled the backs of them. Tuesday was thrashing about, so much that she fell out of her seat and landed on the floor. Perfect, thought Joe, as he pounced on her and grabbed her wrists. He held them over her head with one strong hand while he began to tickle her ribs again with his other. Mia was getting so excited by seeing this that she wished Jeff would stop driving and tickle her. “Jeff, pull over,” she said. Jeff, who had been thinking the same thing, did as he was told, and pounced on Mia and began tickling the daylights out of her. Tuesday could hear Mia’s shrieks and pleading, but she was too lost in her own tickle torture to think about it. Joe was relentlessly tickling her sides and underarms, and then he would lightly tickle her tummy and belly button, constantly surprising her with his next attack. She was so weak from laughter now she couldn’t fight back, so he let go of her wrists and grabbed her waist on either side, squeezing it, and then squeezed up and down her entire ribcage. Then he allowed his fingers to trace over each rib, tickling and tickling until Tuesday thought she would die from tickle torture. Tuesday could no longer scream, she had laughed so hard. She began to buck so wildly and she felt a huge release as time stood still. Her body shuddered and the look on her face was one of pure rapture. Tears were running down her cheeks, and Joe was so excited by her squirming and bucking that he felt himself come in his pants. He then realized that she had also had an orgasm. He smiled and continued to tickle her lightly on her sides, whispering “Tuesday, you have just become my little tickle doll. You know that I am going to have to tickle you forever, don’t you? I can’t live without tickling you.” Tuesday whispered back, “Joe, you had better not stop tickling me. You can tickle me anytime you want.” Joe kissed her hard and squeezed her hips again, sending Tuesday into a giggling fit. “God, it seems that I am even more ticklish now than I was before!” she said. Joe continued to tickle her under her arms and along her sides as they heard Jeff and Mia in the front. Mia was screaming with laughter, and Jeff was saying “Tickle, tickle” and they could feel the truck moving with their tickle struggle. Mia finally let out a long moan, and Jeff collapsed on top of her, continuing his tickle assault for a few minutes longer.

After a little while, Mia tried to say, “Tuesday? Are you alright?” as Jeff continued to hold her down and tickle her. Joe was doing the same thing to Tuesday, as she answered, “Ye-ee-ee-sssssss,” in between giggles. Mia smiled to herself, thinking that yes, this indeed would be a birthday that Tuesday would forever remember.

Contest Entry

Sabrina the Ticklish Witch

In

Katrina’s Revenge Part 2

Libby got the Westbridge High early the next morning, her heart feeling like a lead weight. She was barely recognizable, looking like a beaten puppy rather than her extremely arrogant self. It was as if all the confidence had just drained out of her. And the reason why was obvious.

She just couldn’t face Sabrina and that mocking grin on her face. How could you stand up to a witch? Worse, a witch that knew you were dreadfully ticklish, and had just taken advantage of you in your own bedroom?

What if she went back on her word and told the school Libby’s secret? Could you even trust a witch? Maybe Libby should just change schools.

It was when Libby was opening her locker, wondering where she could hide from that sadistic blond. As the locker door swung open, Libby noticed a strange book on top of her things. This was highly unusual, as Libby really didn’t have much to do with books.
Picking up the worn leather book, she was about to toss it into the hall when she noticed the title, About Witches. And one of the pages was clearly marked.

Her heart starting to beat again, Libby quickly opened it to that page. There she found one paragraph marked. It read:
“Long have mortals struggled against the evil witches. There is only one way to vanquish one of these foul demons. You must force the witch to confess what she is in front of witnesses. A witch will never do this voluntarily, or even permit herself to be tricked into such an admission. You must use whatever torments and tortures you have at your disposal to force it out of her.”

Who could have left her that book? Maybe someone else knew the truth about that magical freak. Someone like that old guy on that vampire killer show, someone willing to help out those downtrodden by the evil witches. But that really didn’t matter.

Force it out of her, the book said. Libby’s eyes started to grow again, and that look of smug superiority returned to her face. A plan formed in her head, one that would return her to the top of the food chain. Suddenly, the day she had been dreading was going to be full of exciting possibilities.

+++++++++++

Sabrina was relieved to get to school. With Katrina on the loose, and her magic turned off, she hadn’t dared leave the house last night. She’d even turned down Harvey’s invitation to the Slicery! All she’d done was listen to her aunts bicker about something that had happened back in the seventeenth century. It had been so boring, Sabrina had almost wanted Katrina to burst through the front door.
She also got a surprise when she got to her locker. There, taped to her locker was a detention slip. Reading it in disbelief, Sabrina found out that Mr. Kraft had given her a detention because of her fit in class yesterday, after all.

“This time, he’s gone to far!” Sabrina crumpled the pink slip in her little fist.

She tried to talk to Mr. Kraft, but couldn’t find him anywhere. The office said that he would be at a meeting at the Board of Education all day. He must have taped the detention to her locker before he left yesterday. That was so like Mr. Kraft! He couldn’t wait to get her in trouble.

Still, something didn’t feel right. As much as Sabrina didn’t like Mr. Kraft, taping detentions to lockers wasn’t his style. He wouldn’t have wanted to give up seeing the look on her face when he handed it to her. And scheduling it for a day he was out of the building? Now he couldn’t even gloat!

Sabrina tried to talk her friend Valerie into staying with her, but she refused. She was planning on ‘accidentally’ bumping into her latest male obsession in the hallway after last bell. That was just like Valerie, to selfish to help out a friend.

Finally, the day ended, and Sabrina reported to Mr. Kraft’s office. To her surprise, she found a note tapped to his door instructing everyone with a detention that day to report to the gym. No, something was definitely wrong here. For a second, Sabrina was tempted to just go home but failure to report to detention could get you suspended! And a suspension ended up on your permanent record.
Walking to the gym, Sabrina saw Valerie talking to some guy, tossing her head in the mindless flirting she excelled in.

“Val,” Sabrina ran up to her friend, “I really need you. Kraft’s not even here, and detention has been moved to the gym! I don’t know what’s going on. Just come with me for ten minutes. I’d feel a lot better!”

“Sabrina, No!” Valerie whispered, “I’m busy. This one might actually like me!” She looked around, and noticed the boy was gone. “Hey!” she called off, running in the direction she thought he went, “Wait for me!”

“Stupid Valerie! What am I going to do now?” Sabrina wondered. “OK, calm down. It’s just detention. You’ve done this lots of times. You’re just jittery because you don’t have your magic.” That was it. She just felt vulnerable because her finger wouldn’t work. She was being silly.

Sabrina entered the gym and found it dark and apparently empty. “Hello,” she called out, “Is anyone here?” Then she heard what sounded like a clatter from the women’s locker room.
“Hello,” Sabrina called out again, moving in that direction. She was frightened, walking through the darkness, but tried to calm herself down. “It’s just the school, it’s just the school,” Sabrina whispered to herself. But it didn’t feel like the school. It felt like some kind of haunted house.

Still, Sabrina knew she had to make every effort to report for detention. That way, Mr. Kraft couldn’t punish her any more.
Now that she was closer, Sabrina could see that there was a light on in the locker room. “I’m here for my detention!” Sabrina called out, stepping out of the gym and temporarily blinded as she left the darkness.

It was in that sightless moment, that Sabrina felt several hands grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her forward. She screamed and tried to fight back, but the hands on her felt like steel.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Westbridge’s resident witch,” Sabrina heard a familiar voice gloat.

“Libby!” Sabrina screamed, suddenly aware of the magnitude of the prank that had been played upon her. Sabrina fought like a wild cat, but to no avail.

“I’m sure you remember this from last night,” Libby cooed, then planted a kiss on Sabrina’s lips, “Take her into the showers girls.” Sabrina could now see the four members of the cheerleading squad that had a hold of her.

Shaken by the unexpected kiss, Sabrina stilled tried everything she could think of to pull her arms free as the cheerleaders began dragging her across the tile floor. The problem was, Sabrina had never been interested in sports or anything athletic, and being able to point your finger and make things happen didn’t build up a lot of muscle. The cheerleaders on the other hand, were use to hard, physical practices every day after school. They were in top shape.
In short, Sabrina didn’t have a prayer.

She tried to dig in her heals, but couldn’t get any traction on the slick tile floor. Soon, Sabrina felt her body pressed against the back wall of the shower. Her arms were forced over her head, and tied to one of the showerheads. It was so high, Sabrina was made to stand on her tiptoes just to reach it. Next, her legs were forced about a foot apart, and her ankles tied to a pipe that ran along the wall about six inches above the floor.

“Libby!” Sabrina screamed, red-faced from panic, “You can’t do this to me! Libbbbbbyyy!!!!!!”

“What’s wrong, my little witch?” Libby taunted, “Don’t like it when the shoes on the other foot?”

Witch. Libby had used that word twice now. Despite being overwhelmed by fear at what was happening to her, that word cut through her emotions like a knife. The way Libby had used it made Sabrina sure it wasn’t just a general insult.

“Wwww…witch?” Sabrina asked, forcing herself to stay calm, “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, don’t deny it,” Libby said softly, walking toward Sabrina and stopping only inches from her helpless body, “You admitted it to me last night, remember? When you were doing this,” Libby leaned in and kissed Sabrina on the neck, “to me?”

The sensuality of the moment confused Sabrina, and it was a few moments before she could stammer out another denial. "I…I have…no idea what you…”

“Oh, of course you don’t,” Libby said smugly, “The book said we’d have to force a confession out of you. Girls, I think Sabrina looks awfully hot in all those clothes. Let’s help he out.”

Libby had chosen her four helpers for this party carefully. Their hatred of Sabrina ran almost as deep as Libby’s, and they had long desired a chance to get even with the perky blonde. They stepped forward eagerly and cut away Sabrina’s sweater and skirt with a pair of scissors stolen from a sewing class. They even took off her shoes and socks.

All Sabrina could do was shiver in her white cotton bra and pink panties. Her face was red with humiliation, and she would have traded away her magic forever for the chance to cover herself. Even a simple spell would free her from her imprisonment. Why did this have to happen on the one day she had no magic?

“Poor Sabrina,” Libby said with a fake pout, “But I wasn’t wearing too much more last night, was I? Of course, my undergarments were much more fashionable. But look, now the teenage witch is cold!”
Last night? Libby kept talking about something happening last night? But Sabrina hadn’t…Katrina! Katrina must have visited Libby last night. Who knew what torments her evil twin had visited upon Libby last night? Despite everything, Sabrina almost felt sorry for her.

“Wait, Libby, it wasn’t me! It was my…” But Sabrina’s next words were drowned out as a stream of hot water poured over her head and down her bare body. Someone had turned the shower above Sabrina’s head, and in only a few minutes, she was thoroughly drenched.
“Now she looks like a drowned rat!” Libby said gleefully, cupping Sabrina’s chin in her hand. It was true. Sabrina’s long blonde hair was plastered to her face. Her make-up had streamed down her face, and her breasts were clearly visible through her soaked bra.

“Libby,” Sabrina stopped to spit out a mouthful of water, “It wasn’t me last night. It was my evil twin, Katrina! I don’t know what she did to you, but…”

“Evil twin!” Libby laughed out loud, “And I thought witches were supposed to be tricky. My little brother could think up a better lie than that one. As for what you did to me last night, let me show you.” With that, Libby plunged ten wiggling fingers into Sabrina’s flat belly.

Sabrina shrieked with surprise before regaining control of herself and clamping her mouth shut. She fought the urge to giggle as Libby’s fingertips fluttered lightly over her hot, wet flesh. Moistened by the hot shower, her belly was even more ticklish than usual. She could feel each finger tracing a figure eight! But somehow, Sabrina held on.

“Trying to pretend your not ticklish?” Libby asked tauntingly, her fingers moving up towards Sabrina’s ribs.

“I’m not,” Sabrina said quickly so as not to let a titter escape when her mouth was open.

“Oh, but those of us who were with you in history class yesterday know differently.”

Damn! How could she convince Libby she wasn’t ticklish after that laughing attack yesterday. Sabrina was about to reply when Libby’s hands attacked her dripping wet ribcage, and stifled any reply.
Stretched out like she was, you could see each of Sabrina’s ribs. Libby seemed intent on squeezing each one, playing them like some kind of musical instrument. She had one hand on either side of Sabrina’s chest, and they both kept jumping from rib to rib wildly, giving one rib a quick pinch, then the next a firmer tweak.

Libby had Sabrina hopping up and down on her tip toes as far as her bonds would let her, or about two inches. When Libby’s left hand hit a particular ticklish spot, Sabrina would try to lean away from it, only to get a worse tickle from her right. No matter how she twisted and turned, Sabrina couldn’t escape those grabbing hands. Like on her belly, Sabrina found her skin was even more ticklish wet than dry. Still, she kept her mouth closed.

At last Libby stopped. “Don’t get to cocky because you didn’t laugh, freak. This is just the warm-up you know. The real thing is coming up fast.”

“What do you want from be Libby?!” Sabrina whined, “Do you want me to apologize for last night? Fine, I’m sorry! I’ll tell everyone how great you are, I’ll…I’ll even let you have Harvey! Anything, just let me go!”

“Do you know what I want from you?” Libby asked slowly, “Fine, I’ll tell you. I want you to tell everyone that you’re a witch. Say those three words and I’ll untie you immediately.”

Sabrina felt everything go cold. That was the one thing she could never do. A witch could never make a public confession, not even to save her own life! She’d lose her magic, and be subject to punishment from the Witch’s Council, something probably worse than death. Rumor had it, the Council had turned the last confessor into a mouse!

“Why not, freak, you said you’d do anything? There’s no such thing as witches, right? If it will get you out of this, why not admit to being Big Foot and Yoda too? You’ll just be telling a crazy woman what she wants to hear. Everyone will understand that.” Libby paused, “Unless, that is, I’m right about you. Unless the book was right about what happens to witches who spill the beans.”

Sabrina said nothing. What could she say?

“Fine, let’s get started,” Libby held out a hand like a surgeon requesting a scalpel. One of the cheerleaders handed her a white bar of soap. She worked up a lather between her hands than dropped in to the ground. “This is going to be fun!”

Libby raked all ten fingernails down Sabrina’s ribcage and into her belly. Made super slippery from the soap, they slid down almost frictionlessly. Sabrina shrieked with laughter, and just kept on giggling as Libby kept skating her nails over her sides.

“he ehehe eheehe ehehehnoooo hohoh hohoho Libbbbyyyy ehehe ehe ehehe e ehehe pleeaassshehehehe eheh ehehehehsttaawwwpppp heh eh eheh ee ehehehheh!!!!!!!” It tickled! Sabrina had no idea her belly and ribs were this ticklish! It was almost as bad as the Coochie Coochie Coo spell on her feet!

Libby’s hands were practically claws now, gliding faster and faster, from the top of Sabrina’s ribcage, down to her waist. Sabrina’s tan body was now so slick that there was no fear of scratching her or cutting her skin. Now and then, Libby would dig all ten fingers deeply into Sabrina’s belly, and be rewarded by a sudden spike in her laughter.

For Sabrina, it was agony. Libby’s hands moved so fast, she could never guess where the next burst of tickling sensations was coming from. She just felt those ten sharp points racing around her body, poking into her soft flesh, and driving her crazy! She would have welcomed a scratch or cut, anything to distract her from the awful tickling.

“Coochie coochie coo, little Sabrina!’ Libby taunted, “Tickle, tickle, tickle! Whose been a naughty witch? You have!” Libby started swirling a soapy finger into Sabrina’s belly button, and grinned when she heard Sabrina wail. “A naughty, bad, evil witch! And now you’re going to pay. I’ll think I’ll tickle your underarms next!”

“NAWWWHOHOH HHOHO NOOOOHOHOHOOO MERCCCYYYY HA AHAHH AHAHHHH AHAHAH GAWWWWDDDD HAHA AHAHHAHHHAHAHAH LIBBBBYY Y Y YY HEHE EHHAHAHA AHAHHAH NAWWWWOOOOO HO HO FAIIIRRRREE EHHEHERHRHR!!!”

“And what you did to me last night was?” Libby demanded in outrage. She plunged a slippery hand into each of Sabrina’s exposed armpits. With her arms pulled so far over her head, the skin there was as taut as a drum. Libby scratched her fingers across that tight flesh.

The result surprised even Libby. Sabrina threw her head back and howled. She howled until her voice cracked and became more of a cackling. Every twinge of one of Libby’s fingers in that most ticklish place on Sabrina’s body felt like an electroshock stabbing into her soul. In her worst nightmares, Sabrina had never thought she was this ticklish, even under her arms! And there was nothing she could do to stop it…

“Wow,” Libby said, fingers still wiggling in Sabrina’s deep hollows, “Your underarms sure are smooth and silky! No raiser stubble at all! What is your secret? Waxing?” At that moment, Sabrina was in no condition to explain how a simple spell kept all witches’ skin soft and hairless.

Libby felt Sabrina’s body trembling, reacting to the smallest motions of her digits. She felt a power over this foe of hers, a power she’d never held over anyone before. Tickling Sabrina like this made Libby feel more like a queen than any of her silly dreams ever had. As far as Sabrina was concerned, Libby was a goddess!

Finally, feeling her musical instrument about to split into pieces, Libby stopped tickling. She waited as Sabrina kept laughing, feeling phantom tickles that weren’t really there, then began gasping for breath, trying desperately to fill her lungs with air.

“Ready to say those three simple words yet?” Libby asked.

Still unable to speak, Sabrina shook her head again. She hung from the shower head now like dead weight, no energy to support herself. White streaks of soap, fresh from Libby’s hands, crisscrossed her torso and belly. Her blonde hair, still soaking wet, was now a rat’s nest of tangles. Her deep blue eyes were pleading for a mercy that wouldn’t come.

“Why not,” Libby asked playfully, “You know I’ve broken any number of laws doing this. Kidnapping, assault, unlawful imprisonment…I’m sure to go to jail when you tell the police. Tell you what, confess to being a witch, and I’ll drive you to the police station! I’ll be in handcuffs in minutes. Wouldn’t you like that?”

At that moment, Sabrina would have sold her soul to see that. But she still couldn’t confess.

“Suit yourself,” Libby said, picking up the bar of soap and lathering her hands up again, “Now where should I tickle you this time?” Unwilling to beg anymore than she already had, Sabrina clenched her jaw and prepared for the inevitable.

This time, Libby drove her hands into Sabrina’s hipbones, just above the waistband of her pink panties. They wiggled deep into the muscle, forcing Sabrina into another laughing fit.

“Hoho hohoh hoho nonononon Libbbbyyyyy hohoh hohohohoho no nononononhohoho…”

“I’ll bet you didn’t even know you were ticklish here, did you little witch? Well, today we’re just going to find all kinds of new tickle spots on your helpless body, oh yes we are!” Libby started sliding her hands down, to the tops of Sabrina’s thighs, pinching the meaty flesh.

“AHHHH!!!!!” Sabrina squealed when Libby’s long fingers hit the crevice between her thighs and the crotch of her pink panties. Her eyes opened wide, and there was a strange look in them.

“You did more than just tickle me last night,” Libby purred, leaning in and kissing Sabrina’s long, wet neck, “Maybe I should return the favor,” She dug her fingers deeper into that crevice, forcing more shouts of laughter from the blonde witch.

“Hehe eheh e eheh he eheh e ehehee eheheheh nawwwtt hehehe e e eheheh theererereheheh eheheheh Libbbbyyyyyyy hehehyhheheyyheheyyheyheyeyy ooohhhhh hehehehehhe neeeeooooeheh ehooooo naaawwttt heheheh ehehehe eheheh therererererereheheheheh!!!!!!”

“Oh no? OK,” Libby returned her hands to Sabrina’s waist, but this time squeezing harder, forcing more high-pitced shrieking from Sabrina, her lithe body dancing more and more in the little room her bonds gave her. But she kissed Sabrina’s throat again, making her eyes roll back in her head just a little.

“How about this?” Keeping one hand still digging into Sabrina’s hip, she slowly lowered the other over the top of Sabrina’s pink panties, over her blonde mound.

Still kept a laughing fool by the tickling, Sabrina felt a new sensation growing down in that virginal region. A few throaty moans started becoming mingled with her laughter as Libby’s wiggling fingers started taking Sabrina down a path she’d never walked before.

“Tell me you’re a witch,” Libby’s breathy whisper murmured into Sabrina’s pink ear, “Tell me or who knows how far this good go. You’re so helpless, exhausted from the tickling and just a bit turned on. Do you dare let me keep going?”

Ripped between hysteria and pleasure, all Sabrina could do was shake her head no. Even she had no idea whether she was refusing to confess, or answering Libby’s last question. She felt herself move farther down the path to surrender.

Then Sabrina felt a sudden breeze on her chest. Her bra had come undone! She could feel her large breasts spill out into the warm air. Something soft, horribly, dreadfully soft began to brush the undersides of both of them, changing Sabrina’s cackling to a deep throated gurgling.

“You don’t mind if my friends help to, do you?” Libby asked, slipping the tips of her fingers underneath Sabrina’s panties and lightly tickling the edge of her mound. At the same time, two fluffy feathers caressed the undersides of Sabrina’s breasts.

The combination made Sabrina purr like a kitten, while keeping her tittering with laughter. It was worse than the assault on her underarms. That had been like pounding at her nerves with a sledgehammer. This was a hundred times more subtle and insidious. Her inexperienced body didn’t no which stimuli to react to, torn between the tickling and the passion, while her brain told her she should be fighting both at the same time.

“Tell me you’re a witch, and this can end…anyway you want it to…” an offer to do more than just end the torment, but to proceed to its natural conclusion very evident in Libby’s voice. The tip of a feather skimmed one of Sabrina’s hard nipples making Sabrina see nothing but a blinding light. Libby’s fingers were pressing deeper into Sabrina’s soft mound, sliding closer to the forbidden slit at the center. It was overwhelming.

Sabrina found herself wanting to give in now, just as much to take Libby up on her offer as to end the horrible tickling. It seemed wrong, somehow to refuse Libby anything. Libby was in charge, the master. And if master wanted Sabrina to confess…

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!” Sabrina screamed. She shouldn’t be tickled, she shouldn’t be touched this way, and she damn well shouldn’t want to give in to Libby. A mortal might have given in right then and there, but witches were made of stronger stuff. No matter what, Sabrina wasn’t going to admit what she was.

All sensation stopped, the sudden absence almost more disturbing than the tickling had been. The two cheerleaders at either sides took a step back and dropped their feathers, and Libby removed her hands. Sabrina just hung there again, now looking more dead than alive.

“I’d hoped you would have the sense to give in before this," Libby said, sounding more sorrowful than teasing for once. “You must see the inevitability of it now. Save yourself more torment! I can be very…generous in victory.” Libby herself was surprised at how much she wanted to be generous towards Sabrina. It was as if that kiss had awoken something in her last night, something sensual.

Sabrina stuck out her tongue, her last defiant gesture.

“All right,” Libby shook her head sadly. She reached out and ripped the pink panties from Sabrina’s body, exposing her completely exposed. At the same time, all four of Libby’s helpers stepped forward again, their hands white with lather.

Libby pulled out one white feather. “You left this in my room last night. I wonder why you didn’t use it on me? Well, I’m not going to make the same mistake.”

Sabrina gasped when she saw it. Even without being able to cast magic, she could still sense the powerful spell that had been cast on that plume. It had undoubtedly been left behind by Katrina for just this purpose.

Looking at that feather, and at the eight soapy hands around her, Sabrina almost passed out from fear. For them, there was no escape.

“Please, Libby,” Sabrina said in a tiny voice, so soft even she could barely hear it, “I don’t think I can resist this…”

“I know,” Libby said simply. Then they began

Two of the cheerleaders took Sabrina’s upperbody. They each to one side, attacking an armpit with one slick hand, and had the other sliding up and down her rib cage. The other two took her legs, bending down to tickle behind Sabrina’s knee’s with one hand while raking five soapy fingers over the soles of Sabrina’s feet with the other.

Sabrina’s bloodcurdling shriek wouldn’t have been out of place in a slasher movie. The ropes forced her on her tiptoes, making her unable to press her tormented soles against the floor. Nothing she could do could shield even an inch of her ticklish flesh. She screamed with laughter like a tormented soul, feeling like one of the damned.

Then Libby started flicking the magic feather between Sabrina’s legs. It felt like tens of thousands of bristles working in her most tender of areas. They were everywhere, over her pubic hair, across her lips, even gliding over the wet flesh between them. Worse, the plume seemed to pulse with life, exciting and tickling Sabrina to no end.

Almost immediately, Sabrina lost the breath to make any sound at all. Her mouth kept opening and closing, the laughter pounding in her throat, but with no way for it to escape. She just hung there, draped in a fog of ticklish agony, wanting to howl, to cackle, to cry out for mercy, but with to way to do it.

“Say those three magic words, Sabrina,” Libby said again, still working that feather into Sabrina’s womanhood. One of the other hands drifted over her belly now, another tickling around her breast. Sabrina wished Katrina had thrown her into a live volcano. Boiling in lava would have to have been more fun than this.

That was the last human thought Sabrina had for quite awhile. For an untold eternity, she suffered, reacting to the tickling fingers, dying from that damn feather, but unable to even think. She became a mindless, tormented thing. She had always been tickled, and always would. No rest, no mercy…no mercy…”

“Mercy,” Libby purred on cue, “Say those three silly little words, and Sabrina can have mercy. Mercy…” The way she said that word made it sound like an oasis in the middle of the desert. Expressed without words was the idea again that mercy would be more than simply an end to the tickling. It would be a relief from that other tension starting to drip from Sabrina’s crotch. It would be…heaven…

“I’M A WITCH!!!!!!!!!! A WITCH I’M A WITCH I’M A WITCH MERCY MASTER!!!!” There should have been no air left in Sabrina’s lungs for a grunt never less such a declaration. Yet, at the moment her mind cracked and her body won, anything seemed to be possible for Sabrina. In the next instant the world exploded with a joy she’d never known before, an all encompassing, pleasure, a soul gripping fervor that she’d remember forever.

In the next, Sabrina was falling, the world spinning from her with the knowledge that for that one confession, she was damned for all eternity. Sabrina could feel some thing being ripped from her being, something so precious that to think of spending even a minute without it made one want to sob uncontrollably. Then, nothingness…

++++++++++++

When she awoke, Sabrina was lying in her own bed. Aunt Zelda was stroking her forehead, as if Sabrina had been sick for a long time.

“Aunt Zelda,” Sabrina’s voice was horse and cracked, “I’m..I’m alright…Was it all a dream?”

“I’m afraid not. It happened,” Zelda said softly, a comforting look on her face.

“Then the Witch’s Council stripped me of my powers?” Sabrina asked, her heart turning to lead.

“No, dear. Your story has a happy ending,” Zelda smiled, “The Other Realm police finally caught up with Katrina. When they did, she was watching Libby torture you with a magic mirror. The police got there just in time to see your confession. They swooped in to save you and wiped out Libby and the other girls’ memories.”

“But I still confessed,” Sabrina sobbed, “Under witch law, there is no excuse for that.”

“Normally no, but Katrina had tampered heavily with Libby, giving her some very unnatural desires. It was her fault, not yours. And once the council saw how much abuse you’d taken, they decided you’d suffered enough.”

“Wait,” Sabrina sat up suddenly, “The Witch’s Council saw my torture?”

“Yes,” Zelda said delicately, “We all did. The mirror Katrina used to watch had a record function built in. I’m very proud of you! Not many witches could handle having her boobs tickled like that!”

“Who all saw it?” Sabrina asked, flushing at Zelda’s reference to her breasts.

“Everybody in the Other Realm. They ran it on that show Witches Favorite Home Video’s. It one first prize!”

“Then they saw me naked!” Sabrina shrieked, “And…and now everyone in the Other Realm knows how ticklish I am, and how I called Libby…Master!” Sabrina was mortified.

“Well,” Zelda said, moving to the door, “Think of the bright side. You still have your magic, Libby doesn’t remember you’re a witch, and Hilda and I won $10,000.” Seeing the look on her niece’s face, Zelda decided to leave and let her get some rest.

Sabrina just lay there, angry at everyone. Libby had officially humiliated her in front of every witch on the planet! “And Valerie too,” she whispered to herself, “If that selfish loser had been a real friend, she would have gone with me to the gym like I asked, and none of this would have happened.” Libby had always been an enemy, but Valerie…Valerie had betrayed her, like Judas. Except with more tickling.

Sabrina desperately wanted to teach those to a lesson. She wondered if she could persuade Zelda to teach her the Coochie Coochie Coo spell. No, Zelda would be horrified if she even asked. She could ask Hilda! No, Hilda would think revenge a great idea when Sabrina mentioned it, but would wimp out in the end like she always did. She needed someone not cursed with her aunts’ sense or morality.

“Oh, Salem,” Sabrina called out, the light suddenly went on, “Come here and I’ll zap you up a big fish dinner…” Salem would teacher her the spell, Sabrina just knew it! Then, it wouldn’t be her laughing for a change!


The end…?


Author’s Note: Shortly after this in the show, Libby abandons all her hard earned popularity at Westbridge, and starts attending some nameless private school. Valerie moves all the way to Alaska, about as far from Massachusetts as you can get. Coincidence, or did our little Sabrina get carried away with her revenge?

I want to thank everyone for their entries!

Writers, please join in the contest. Help us get to seven entries which is when the major prize money kicks in (see contest rules).

There are so many talented people around the TMF!

dig dug

AN EXCHANGE
another one of those stories


“What are you laughing at?”

“Sorry. You just look funny, all stretched out like that. And did you see what she wrote?”

“I haven’t seen anything since she put this over my eyes. What do you mean, wrote? Never mind, just untie me.”

Another laugh. “You’ve got lipstick words on your belly, right along here and here.” A fingertip traces her bare stomach, curving under the ribs, and then again, making an arc just under her bellybutton. Her breath catches in her throat at the sensation. “It says VERY TICKLISH.”

She is suddenly much more aware of all her bare skin. There is a lot of it, more than she’s comfortable with. The tiny halter top she bought on vacation and never wore (and where did Alicia find it?) does not cover much of her. Nor do the low-rider jeans she feels on her hips and legs -- they’re not even hers, she owns nothing so immodest, but still they fit her like a second skin. She hasn’t given her more-than-partial nudity much of a thought, being more occupied with the problems of being tied up and blindfolded, but that light touch and that one word, ticklish, make all her other problems recede swiftly.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Very ticklish, of course.”

“No! ... I mean, no, I’m not.”

“Not even a little? Then why did Alicia lay you out like this and write this on you?” The soft finger runs over the words -- and her skin -- again, even more lingeringly. She sets her lips.

“How should I know? It’s one of her dumb jokes. And stop touching me!” The finger is still caressing her lower belly absently, zigzagging down to just above the top of her panties and back up again. Her heart accelerates.

“This is fancy for just a dumb joke.” The fingertip wanders back up her belly, loop-the-loops her navel, and trails between her breasts, pausing there. She hopes that the pounding of her heart isn’t noticeable. “How did she ever get you like this?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up this way. And I don’t care. I -- “

“And how would she know you’re ticklish?” The maddening touch traces the path of her collarbone, up the side of her neck to stop just beneath her ear. Being touched at all is bad enough, but this slow, sensual exploration is simultaneously exciting, frightening, and infuriating. She doesn’t want to analyze it, though -- she just wants it to stop.

“I don’t -- “

“Maybe you laughed when she started writing on you?” Down her neck again, curling over the shoulder, brushing the side of her breast with breathtakingly casual intimacy, and then down, down, down the long curve of her side.... Muscles jump in her arm as she wills herself to breathe steadily.

“Cut it out. This isn’t funny, okay? And get your hand off me.” It’s the coldest, hardest voice she can muster, a tone that has frozen more than one frisky boyfriend in his tracks. But this time, it has no effect.

“Sorry.” There is a complete lack of sincerity in the apology. And the teasing touch does not stop, sliding further down again, along the arc of her waist. And even lower. “Black satin panties. I would never have imagined you owned anything like that.” Fingers stroke the soft cloth and the softer skin beneath. The blood rushes to her cheeks, and she can hear her own pulse inside her head, an ever-increasing tempo. “It was nice of Alicia to not bother to do up your pants, don’t you think?”

“Get out of there!” She lashes out ferociously with her voice but her body remains immobile. She will not allow herself to squirm, not dressed like this and in this embarrassing situation. The hand slowly withdraws.

“Is something wrong?” There is still no sincerity to be heard.

“I told you to stop. You know I don’t like being touched.”

“But I want to touch you. You’re beautiful, and you know it. All that soft white skin ... which may or may not be very ticklish. How can I resist?”

“Try.” Finding she is still capable of this slight sarcasm heartens her enough to go on: “What do you care about whether I’m ticklish, anyway?”

“Alicia sure seems to have cared, if she took the time to write it on you. And, well, you remember Sandy?” She doesn’t answer. “My ex. I was still with her when you met me and Alicia, but we broke up not long after.”

“I’d be glad to talk about your love life, but could you untie m -- “

“Shh.” A fingertip seals her lips. “Don’t talk, just listen for a while. You see, Sandy was possibly the most ticklish girl I’ve ever known. Every inch of her was ticklish. All I would have to do would be get hold of her ribs” -- she cannot restrain a start of shock as ten fingers, widely spread, touch her ribcage -- “or squeeze her hips” -- the fingers travel slowly down her sides to where the curves of her hips extend above the low waist of her pants and give her a small goose at the peak of each -- “or tickle her soles” -- her toes curl reflexively even before the fingers find her bare feet, sliding whisper-light down ball and arch and heel -- “and Sandy would just lose it. I mean she’d be hysterical.”

She feels slightly hysterical herself. Her body is singing with tension, every muscle locked as she fights the impulse to writhe; the places the fingers have passed still tingle with ticklish afterimages -- worst of all on her feet, for the fingers are still there, resting. Silence stretches, the tension getting worse with every beat of her heart. In an animal reflex, she has frozen in hopes the predator will lose interest -- but that instinct works poorly if you are right in front of the predator, tied down, blind, exposed.

“Sorry. Am I boring you?”

“N-no,” she manages to get out without sounding too unnatural, at least to her ears. Then: “But what does that have to do with me?” She is proud that she can put together such a subtle lie even in a desperate situation like this -- until a laugh answers her.

“Is it that hard to figure out?”

“Look, I’m getting tired of this.” She tries to put the snap of authority in her voice, but even though it comes to her easily at other times, here it betrays her, dying away in a quaver.

“But I haven’t finished telling you about Sandy.”

She manages a sigh. “Okay, okay, get it over wi -- with!” The hesitation comes as the fingers shift position on her feet infinitesmally, and her breath suddenly stops in her throat for a second.

“Where was I? Oh yeah.... Sandy was so sensitive all over her body. She’d go absolutely psychotic when I tickled her. But sometimes I tried something a little different. Something like ... this.” The fingers move again, the forefingers taking a step, landing exactly in the bottom curve of each arch. The skin there is far too tender to bear being touched, and each light fingertip feels like it’s surrounded by a halo of electricity. “I’d work her over very, very slowly ... exploiting her weaknesses, like this ... “ Another step. Fingertips touch her in the middle of each arch, the absolute core of each sole’s ticklishness. “Did I mention how ticklish her feet were? Especially right around here. All it took was one little touch and she’d practically jump out of her skin.” Her toes are desperate to curl up in the ancient response, the useless effort to protect her vulnerable soles from the touch, and it takes all of her rapidly fraying willpower to keep them straight and keep her feet from moving. Unfortunately for her, the need to concentrate on her feet to hold them in place has the undesirable side effect of intensifying the sensations. Her mind is focusing obsessively on those two tingling spots where the fingers rest, making it impossible for her to simply ignore what is being done to her.

“It was tough for Sandy, because she always had to pretend that she didn’t feel anything. She knew that if she reacted, I’d torture her.” The word torture is pronounced with malicious care. It slides into her ear and settles into the back of her brain, unleashing a flood of dark visions. She grunts in protest without realizing it. “Yes, torture. Sorry, did that upset you? It’s true, though. Tickling can be torture, especially if you’re helpless and you can’t make it stop, and the tickler knows just what to do to you ... “ Another step of the fingers underlines those words; they land just under the swell of the ball of her feet now, filling her body with fresh shudders of response that she somehow manages to stifle. Her calves are beginning to ache with effort. Give it up, you’re not fooling anyone, something else inside her mutters. But she has always prided herself on her ability to conceal her feelings when necessary -- and in this situation, it is clearly necessary if she is to avoid ... what was just said.

“Get. To. The. Point.” She has to pause between each word to swallow the desire to laugh. She is hanging over an abyss of madness, and to lose control in any way is to let go, to surrender. All she has to cling to now is the knowledge that she never surrenders, and that she can’t do so now, not with ... with what is at stake. Torture, the thing in her brain whispers again, and giggles to itself. You’re going to be tortured.

“If you insist.” The fingers lift away from her soles, and she barely catches herself before she collapses into a sag and moan of relief that would have been telltale as any squeal of laughter. “You see, I can remember very well what Sandy looked like while I was playing with her like that. And guess what? You look just like she used to right now.”

So suddenly that she gasps, the blindfold is pulled from her eyes and something is thrust before her. It is a hand mirror, so as she blinks and focuses, the only thing that she sees is her own face. She stares at herself in horrid fascination. Her eyes shimmer, jewellike, with moisture. They are so wide, staring in desperation, that the white is clearly visible around them in every direction. Flyaway strands of hair are pasted to her damp temples, and hectic roses bloom in each cheek, making her look almost as if she has been slapped. Her full lips quiver, and when she tries to bring them under control, the trembling only gets worse. She is not used to seeing herself like this. Every place she looks, she sees evidence of weakness and vulnerability. It is terrifying, but she cannot look away -- so she is caught by surprise by the stealthy feel of a finger insinuating itself into her soft armpit. The terrible face in the mirror reacts instantly: eyes widen, nostrils flare, the lips lift away from her white teeth as a helpless smile imposes itself on her. The cords in her throat tremble, battered by the need to laugh, giggle, do something to express the overpowering feeling caused by just one finger stroking under her arm. Instead, she forces her lips closed again, but white brackets remain on either side of her mouth, banners of the strain she is under. Her entire face is betraying her, screaming the news of her ticklishness.

“Tell me.” Her torturer’s voice has dropped to an intimate whisper. The finger circles mercilessly under her arm. “I can see it in your face. I can feel it in your body. I can hear it, even though you’re practically purple trying not to laugh. You’re even worse than Sandy was ... this would have been just a warm-up for her, but then she was tickled so much she knew how to deal with it. You don’t.”

She wants to scream, to bellow out the insanity that’s pounding on the inside of her skull, but when her lips finally part, all that comes out is a childish wail that makes her flush with humiliation. “Why are you doooooing this to meeeeee?” The finger withdraws from her armpit, and her shrieking gallops on as she hopes dimly that abject whining will buy her the respite that angry defiance hasn’t. “I don’t like being touched like this! Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Her tormentor hesitates for a moment, and she can see the doubt. It’s now or never. She squeezes her eyes, letting fat tears roll down her cheeks, and risks a sniffle. “I’m just getting scared, tied up like this and you talking about to -- (sniff) -- torture ... and touching me all over, and I was getting worried you might hurt me, and can’t you just untie me (sob) ... “ She trails off with a few little gasps and whimpers and peers up through her damp lashes, trying to judge the reaction. She hasn’t thrown a fit like this in years, and still isn’t sure whether she intended to. Normally, she hates to have to lower herself to whining, just as she hates any other offense against her dignity, but this is a desperate time. And maybe it worked.

But she sees, slowly ... a smile. Her heart drops. “Very nice. You’re already squalling like a six-year-old, and I barely touched you.” There is none of the sympathy she hoped for. “I’m not going to hurt you at all ... but believe me, I am going to put you through hell.

“As for why I’m doing this to you, I bet it’s the same reason Alicia tied you up like this -- it’s hilarious to think that the biggest ice princess in the world is so ticklish.”

That stings her. She glares wetly. “I am not an ice princess!”

“Yes, you are. I know some guys who claim they got frostbite dating you.”

“What?” she all but screeches. “Just because -- “

“A face that would break if you smiled, icicles hanging from your nose, a chastity belt permanently welded on ... “ She realizes she’s being goaded again and grits her teeth against another angry outburst. “It’s a shame that more people don’t know how easy it is to break you down with just a little tickle here and there. I’m going to have to spread the word.”

Her fury cannot be contained any longer. “I’m not an ice princess and I’m not ticklish and if you don’t let me up right this minute I’m going to scream!”

The smile only broadens into a grin. “You are, you are, and I don’t care. I don’t even believe you could come out with a real scream ... unless I made you. And I’m going to, eventually. There’s no one around to hear you, and I want you to scream.” Her anger flickers and dies immediately. There does not seem to be enough air in the room for her to breathe any more. “You’ve been getting away with being imperious and untouchable for way too long, and I’m not the only one who’s had enough of it.” Hands rise, fingers spread. “Now back to the subject ... which is how ticklish you are, and how you’re going to admit it. I might promise to go easy on you if I could just hear you say ‘I’m ticklish.’ But it’s not going to be easy either way, so why bother lying to you?”

She tries to scream. She really means to, if only to prove that she can and make that infuriating grin go away. But her lungs are frozen, and her throat tightens, and all that comes out is a choking whimper. Her torturer doesn’t even take notice, looking up and down her flushed body greedily.

“I got a jump out of you when I touched your ribs before, didn’t I?”

“You just ... startled me.” The lie is reflexive and pathetic, a last effort to save some face.

“Oh, right. You were blindfolded then. But you can see my hands now, can’t you?”

“Yes ... “

“Take a good look, now.” The hands rise, filling her blurred vision. “And listen closely: I’m going to tickle your ribs. Your arms are tied up, you can’t protect your sides, you can’t move enough to escape me. And I’m done teasing you. Do you know what comes now?”

The terrible finality of those words is like stones on her chest pressing the air out of her. She doesn’t want to think of it, but the back of her brain supplies the word. “Torture ... “ It slips out between her lips.

“Watch closely, because my hands are coming in. No surprises this time. And yes, it’s going to be torture, because your ribs are what?”

She wants to scream, beg, plead, threaten, anything. But the strength has drained from her body and mind. All she can think of is those slowly descending hands, and the horrible tingling that has begun to race along her skin in their shadow.

“Don’t just lie there looking like a deer in the headlights. Answer me ... and make it quick, because you don’t have much longer. What are you?”

“I, uh ... “ Hands, body, trembling, breathe, torture, bound, muscles, no, helpless.... She can’t think.

“I’ll make it really easy. What does it say on your belly?”

“Very tih ... ticklish. I’m ... very ticklish.” She feels neither relief nor fear at having finally made the admission. Even if her tormentor had not said so, she would know instinctively that her fate is no better and no worse for saying it. But she says it anyway because the hands have descended almost all the way, bending to cup the curves of her ribs, and she can feel the heat of the palms on her own overheated skin

“Yes, you are. Let’s see about that scream now ... “ The fingers touch her ribs, and she has one endless instant of frozen insanity before they dig in and the world goes away.

MEDIC! Get me 10cc's of heartbeat, STAT!



Biggles

Dear Shem,

Thank you for your entry. Although in the interest of fairness, I do not comment publicly on the stories submitted here, your participation is much appreciated.

Now--who else wants a piece of the action? All are welcome!

dig dug dog

C'mon guys...contribute with your sories to this one.
The theme here sounds very interesting!!!!

Lost Gold

starring

Catherine Zeta Jones from The Mask of Zorro

by

Kid Indy

Three ships darkened the horizon. Silhouetted by the horizon, they did not betray their origin until they approached the shore. On top of the flagship waved the old family standard, an emblem not seen in California since the disappearance of Don Rafael. But the servants of the old Don, soldiers and house help and the jailer, knew the symbol and began to wave welcome. Soon a small boat was approaching the beach.

From the boat stepped a powerful-looking man, tall and dark-haired. The stern features inherited from his forefathers was mixed with a touch of madness even Rafael did not reveal. One of the soldiers greeted the man with an embrace.

"Don Patricio, what a joy to see you!"

"Emilio, please dispense with the pleasantries. I've heard the news of my uncle's death. Where may I visit his grave?"

Emilio, a coward even away from Patricio's withering gaze, shuffled his feet. "Nobody knows where the body is, Senor."

The young Don's hand snapped through the space between the two men, appearing almost instantly on Emilio's throat. The grip was like iron, and Emilio let out a scratchy cough as Patricio leaned in. "Why does nobody know where the body is, Emilio?"

Emilio choked out, "Only Don Rafael and Capitan Love knew where the mine was! All who went with them never came back!"

The hand suddenly let go, and Emilio staggered backwards. Patricio was now looking at all of the men. "Mine? What mine? Where is this mine?"

"Like he said, senor, nobody knows. Don Montero and Capitan Love never came back. They say Zorro killed them."

"Zorro? Who is this Zorro?" The men looked nervously at each other. "Never mind. Where is my cousin?"

"Cousin? How should we know your cousin?"

"My uncle's daughter! Elena! Where is she?"

The beach suddenly filled with the sounds of a dozen stupid epiphanies as Don Rafael's men realized that the old Don's daughter would be the new Don's cousin. One of them spoke up. "She lives at La Casa del Castillo. She is the wife of Don Alejandro."

"I must see her. If we can find my uncle's body, we must do so. And then, I'll see about this mine..."

* * * * * *

At the Casa Castillo, Don Alejandro (the new Zorro had kept that name since he used it in the plot to avenge his brother) was away visiting General Santa Ana on business, and Elena Vega del Castillo was enjoying the time to herself. The young Californian beauty, still in her early twenties, had not lost an ounce of beauty becoming a mother, and all of the people of the town still thought her the most beautiful woman in all of America. She was reclining on the patio reading poetry when she heard one of the servants protesting somebody's entrance.

"Sandra, what is the matter? Sandra? Sandra?"

But Sandra was not the next to come into the courtyard. A tall man flanked by two soldiers, all wearing sabers, entered the courtyard. Elena looked towards the man in the center. Something looked strangely familiar to her.

"Cousin! How do you do!"

Elena squinted, then realized that this man looked like a younger version of Don Rafael Montero, the man who had raised her.

"Greetings, senor. And what is your name?"

"Senor? Please, cousin, call me Patricio. My uncle was your father, so we are family."

"I'm afraid not, Don Montero. Your uncle kidnapped me as a child. My real father was Don de la Vega."

Patricio's face fell. "I'm sorry to hear that. But there is something you can do for me. Tell me where my uncle fell. I must find his body so that his soul can rest."

Elena looked carefully at the men with Patricio, and she could tell that they were trying to hide smirks. They must know about the gold mine. She quickly put on her best lying face. "No, I'm afraid we lost him forever. I have forgiven his deception, Patricio, and I do feel sorry for you. But I have nothing to tell you right now. I'm sorry."

Patricio's eyes narrowed as he read Elena's deception. "I'm sorry to hear that, Elena. Well, men, let's bee off now." The three left, and Sandra emerged from the shadows.

"Senora, those men are wicked! They forced their way in, and when I stood in their way, one of them grabbed my ribs! Can you imagine that? Tickling a woman they don't even know?"

Elena swallowed back a shudder and replied, "No, Sandra. That's awful."

"Senora! What if they had tickled you? What would you have done?"

Elena's lying face emerged again. "I don't know, Sandra. I've never been ticklish."

* * * * * *

At night a crash downstairs drew Elena from her sleep. She slipped shoes on quickly and picked up the sword with which she still occasionally practiced. Dashing down the stairs, she heard servants screaming and horses galloping away. She burst into the nursery to find one servant unconscious and another screaming.

"Juana! Juana! Where is Joachin? Where is Juachin?"

"Elena! Senora! They took him away! The men on the horses took him away!"

"NO!" Elena screamed, and she ran to the window. The horses could still barely be heard fading into the distance. She turned and looked at the bed, powerless and panicked. The intensity of the moment made her eyes acute, and she saw a glass bottle lying against one wall. Walking over to it, she saw that it contained a rolled piece of paper. She took it out of the bottle and read.

Dear Elena,

We have your son Joachin and have no plans to hurt him or you. Ride two miles west of your villa, and a man will meet you. Come alone, or you will never again see him again.

Don Patricio Montero

Elena wailed, but only for a moment. She would have to get her son back, and that meant going where the note said to. Still clad in her night clothes, she put on a pair of riding boots, commanded her servants not to follow, saddled her horse, and began to ride west.

On the open plain she could see the man waiting for her, and she could also see the spy glass that he used to make sure nobody followed. She approached him slowly, and without a word he motioned for her to follow.

They covered several miles in the night, and the morning sun was beginning to lighten the sky when they finally reached a small farm house. Elena dismounted when the man did and followed him inside. Patricio, holding Joachin on his lap, waited for them.

"Patricio, give me my child this instant!"

"In good time, Elena. In good time." Patricio suddenly got up from his chair and handed the baby to a woman nearby. "If you want to leave with Joachin, do what I say." Elena nodded. He approached her and began to size her up. "The stories do you no justice, cousin. You are the beauty of California."

With quickness that had not left her, Elena spun on her boot heel and drew a dagger that she had hidden. She grabbed Patricio's shoulder with one hand and put the knife to his throat with the other. "Now give me my son back, you bastard!"

Patricio's neck tensed, but his eyes did not waver. "If you would make Don Alejandro childless and a widower in one night, cut me. You might kill me, and you might not. Do what I say and you'll both go home safe."

"What good is your promise, kidnapper?"

Elena heard a click from behind her. "That is a gun, Elena. If you kill me, he will kill you. And Joachim." Elena turned for just a moment to look, and the large man quickly spun away from the knife, trapping her weapon hand. He wheeled her around so that her back was to his chest, and he whispered, "Now drop the knife, Elena." She did. "Now follow me."

He led her into the kitchen and said, "Stand there and put your arms over your head." Above her was a hook used to suspend baskets and pots. She put her hands above her head, and they came about a foot short of the hook. The men wrapped her wrists and hands in a bedsheet, then looped the rope over the bundle like a noose. The rope was not touching her, but she could not put her arms down. Elena was still in her nightgown, and her underarms were in full view for everyone to see.

"Elena, why do you tell this lie? You are my cousin! Your father was Don Rafael!"

"Please, Patricio, believe me, that is not true!"

"No, it is true, and you're going to say so! Tell me, Elena, what do you think it would feel like if I began tickling you and you could not put your arms down?" Elena's shock was visible to all in the room, and the men behind Patricio chuckled. "Out, fools! I'm talking with my cousin here!" They promptly exited. Patricio pulled a stool out of a corner, sat on it, and asked, "So what do you think it would be like?"

Elena had time to compose herself, and she answered, "I'm not ticklish, Patricio. I wish you would not touch me, but tickling would do nothing."

Patricio reached into a coat pocket and produced a stiff feather. "Really? I've found that those who deny being ticklish sometimes tell the truth." Elena's relief was visible despite her attempt to hide it. "But those who deny twice are always lying." And Elena's face dropped. He began to twirl the feather as he stepped off the stool and towards her ticklish body. She closed her eyes.

The trailing tip of the feather began just below her bound wrists and started moving down over her forearm, to her elbow, down her upper arm. Her muscles tensed as it got nearer and nearer her soft underarm. But as it approached, it veered off course, tracing the edge of her nightgown along her back. She involuntarily shifted to the side and away from the feather.

"I'm not touching you, Elena. Why the reaction?"

She glared at him, trying to overcome fear with defiance. "I don't want you or your feather anywhere near me! Now let me go!"

"No, Elena, first you have to tell me that you're really my cousin." With that he began to twirl the feather in her underarm. Elena's jaw clenched and her eyes once again shut. She tried again to twist away, but the feather followed. She kept moving, but he kept stroking her sensitive underarm with the tip and blade of the feather. The tickling was awful, and it was worse without the ability to put her arms down. But she kept clenching her teeth, not allowing even a giggle to get out lest he know just how ticklish she was.

"My father was Don Diego de la Vega! Diego de la Vega!"

"Wrong answer, cousin." With that he dropped the feather and began prodding at her armpits with two fingers of each hand. Elena moaned through her teeth and again tried to move out of the way, but his persistence was beginning to get her. As he tickled he teased, "Elena, I thought you said you weren't ticklish! Why are you moving around so much?" But she knew that if she spoke, she would probably start laughing, so she just kept swaying in vain, still followed at every shift by his terrible fingers. He stopped, and her eyes opened.

"Tell me the truth, Elena."

"I'm not ticklish! I'm not!"

The Don laughed. "I meant about your real father. But since you still want to think about tickling, I can certainly oblige you!" With that he stepped behind her and grabbed her hips with wriggling, probing fingers. The sensation was maddening, and Elena let out a yelp.

"I'm not your cousin! My father was Don Diego de la Vega!"

"I don't believe you, Elena. And I don't believe that this isn't tickling you crazy. Don't you want to laugh? Just a little bit? Wouldn't it make you feel better?" His fingers still worked their way around her writhing hips, and even though she knew it would be her end, she did want to laugh. But he still wasn't sure, and she was going to hold out. She bit her lip, and his fingers lifted after a short attack. He put a finger under her chin and made her look him in the eye. "Okay, Elena. Let's see whether you're really ticklish or not. I'm going to let you sit on this stool, and then I'm going to cover your eyes. If you can stay on the stool long enough, I'll believe you. But if you squirm your way off of it, that means you're ticklish. Okay?" Elena, desparate to stop the tickling, nodded. Don Patricio helped her up on the stool. The silk gown that she wore slid to the sides of her legs, revealing her boot-clad feet and a pair of delicious legs.

"You know, Elena, I think it would be more telling if you couldn't see what was coming. I think I'm going to cover your eyes for this part."

"NO! Stay away from me!" But he had already drawn a handkerchief from his pocket and had begun tying it over her eyes. She was scared before, but now she knew she had it coming. "Patricio, you must believe me, I am not the daughter of your uncle!"

"I think you're lying again, Elena." With that he began again with her ribs. The prodding fingers were unstoppable; while her skin would get used to the touches, her ribs just kept on being ticklish. She screamed in surprise, and this time he got a real laugh from her. "Oh! You're enjoying this now!" Elena tried to tell him no, but now his hands were tickling her belly, making her laugh even more. "I feared that I might have to make you squirm by pinching those legs, but this is working, isn't it?" It was; her rear had almost slid off the front. This was harder than she anticipated; without her arms to help her balance, the slightest squirm made her begin a slide in one direction or another. Concentrating on staying up, Elena forgot not to laugh, and he had her right where he wanted.

"You know, Elena, I'm beginning to think that you might be ticklish after all!" Of course, what had begun as not much of a secret was now so obvious that he could taste it; her laughter, sweet and desparate all at once, was filling the room, echoing in his brain as it made music for his ears. His fingers savored her soft flesh, digging in through her thin nightgown to find a tender firmness that jumped when his fingers pressed it. When a hand went under her arm, although some sweat was beginning to emerge, the curve of her armpit was nearly perfect to the touch. As he tickled her armpit with one hand and her ribs with the other, she slipped from the bench, landing on her boots with a click.

"Elena, you fell off the bench. That means you were lying."

"Okay! I'm ticklish! Just stop! Please!"

"I might, but only if you tell me where you're the most ticklish. Remember, I can do this as long as I want."

"NO! I won't tell you anything! Let me go!"

"So be it, Elena. I'll just find out for myself." His hands were on her again, and Elena fought to keep control of herself. Although she had enough time to realize she had become quite sweaty, the awareness did not last long; Patricio squeezed her hips to make her jump, then dug into her armpits to get her screaming. Her hair thrashed back and forth, whipping across the Don's face and goading him into a frenzy. Her stomach muscles, when they weren't being tickled, were becoming quite sore. "Elena, I'm going to ask you again, but I'm not stopping the tickling. Where are you most ticklish?"

"NO!" His hands moved to the backs of her knees, making her jump and laugh. "I can't!" They worked her left knee and the inside of her right thigh. "Please... please!" She felt the answer coming, as if on its own, out of her lungs and into the air. "My feet! The soles of my feet! Now stop, please!" And he did.

Stepping around to face her again, he asked in a slow, deliberate voice, "Now Elena, aren't you really my cousin? Was Don Rafael not your father?"

"Please, Don Patricio, you must believe me. I was never your cousin. Really."

"Good." He stepped to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed a large table. Elena could hear its legs dragging as he said, "Now I know that no matter what I do, I cannot get you to tell me what is not so. Even after all this, you will not say that you are my cousin."

"No, absolutely not. Now please, give Juachin back!"

"But if I tickle you enough, you will give me information you've been hiding. How ticklish you are and where, for instance."

"Yes, I told you the truth. Please, Patricio. Release me."

Patricio pulled the edge of the table right up to the fronts of Elena's upper thighs. Without warning he grabbed her ankles and hoisted her up onto the table. "Now, Elena, I'm going to see whether you know what is really important to me."

"Patricio, stop! I've told you everything!"

Patricio had no trouble getting the boots off of her struggling feet; her strength was nearly gone. "No, you have not. There is a gold mine buried somewhere in California, and you are going to tell me where it is!" The tall Don began tying thin silk cords around her ankles. Without any way to get leverage, Elena's tickling-weakened body could not pull loose. He pulled both cords below his edge of the table and tied them to one of its heavy legs.

"Please, Patricio! I know nothing!"

"You also said before you weren't ticklish. But now we're more honest with one another, no?" Patricio began scratching lightly at one soft sole, then another. The toes tried in vain to bend down over her feet, and the soles wrinkled. Elena whimpered, still unable to see the fingers that made her so uncomfortable.

"Please! I don't know!" But the tickling had begun in earnest. Elena could feel each finger trace over her soles, her helpless, unseen soles. Weakened by all that had come before, she soon began to laugh, her ticklishness undefended by any more willpower. "Stop! Please!" tried to sound desperate, but the lovely laughter of the young woman made her sound like a girl at play, giggling as she protested. Patricio was in ecstasy, one moment forgetting entirely about the gold mine, the next knowing that it was just about to be in his grasp, all the time drinking in the sounds of tortured laughter.

One of Patricio's hands stopped tickling, and Elena, though still laughing, began to worry what was coming next. Suddenly the other hand stopped tickling and grabbed her big toe. "NO!" began as a scream but rose in pitch and ended as a giggling squeal; the Don had picked up his feather, and now he had put it between the second and third toes on her right foot. He kept hold of the big toe so that she could not squeeze all five together, and the sensation that came from the feather wiggling and sawing between her sensitive toes was unbearable. Of course, nobody could have told that; her laughter, though strained, was still the sound of a pigtailed cutie tormented by naughty boys. She thrashed and sweated, and her giggles shifted into laughs and squeals and attempted protests. Elena could hear Patricio laughing along with her.

"I'll bet this works just as well on the other foot, Elena."

"Please, no more! I'll tell you where the mine was!"

"I know you will, Elena. But this is simply too much fun right now." And with that he grabbed her left big toe, and Elena repeated "No no no no noooo!", the last turning into a squeak as the feather began its ticklish work. Elena was on the verge of losing her water when, all of a sudden, the tickling stopped. The room was silent, and she heard a pair of boots walking in.

A familiar voice addressed Patricio: "Don Patricio de Montero, the government of General Santa Anna is putting you under arrest for kidnapping." Elena breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the voice of Zorro, her own Don Alexandro. Elena heard men tying Patricio and leading him out of the room. Gentle hands lifted the blindfold from her eyes. "Elena! Are you alright!"

Elena looked to see that Don Alexandro, not Zorro, had led them here. "Yes, Alexandro. Where is Juachin?"

"Before we came in here, I had her nanny take her back to the house. She came with us for that very reason. She's safe."

"I'm so glad to see you, Alexandro. Untie me so we can go home."

But Alexandro, putting his chin in his hand and looking at her mischievously, replied, "Elena, I thought you told me that you never have been ticklish. What is all this?"

"Alexandro, please, no! I can't take any more!"

Alexandro reached down to her right sole and lightly scratched horizontally, diagonally, horizontally. Elena giggled as he did so. "The mark of Zorro!"

"Very funny, Alexandro. Now untie me." But his eyes and his fingers were already approaching her defenseless soles.

Kid Indy,

Thank you very much for your entry.

We now have 4 official entries (one of the above was not "on topic"). I hope we get at least 3 more for the big prize money to kick in!

The contest is set to close March 2nd. Are there other writers in the wings?

dig dug dog

"Salvation is from the Jews" (John 4:22)...and so is Natalie Portman!



Are you Jewish, mate?

Erikvarg--

Hmmm...let's just say I celebrate for "8 CRAZY nights".

Biscuit--

You fiend! Just because Picard is always doing his own version of "Shakespeare across the galaxy" doesn't mean you have to take it out on me! And don't get me started again on Troy's underwhelming capacity to state the obvious....

Nevertheless and notwithstanding...I would LOVE to see what you could come up with on the theme I have outlined. Looking forward to it, now: ENGAGE.


dig dug dog

It seems that the contest is not a contest after all? I was looking forward to the competition.

Luv and laughter,

Hm...

I would contribute, cause I have MANY ideas, but I just can't find the damn time. I have been far too busy lately....