ElFewja
Verified
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2007
- Messages
- 1,297
- Points
- 0
Back in 09/2010 (when I wrote this) I wanted to do a darker tickling story. The first one fizzled and the second one, this, isn't really as dark as I had wanted it. Thing is, I'm not about the.. hm, unwilling side of tickling so much? The desperation/unwanting sides, you know. It's compared to rape sometimes and, well, I think there are similarities but that that is somewhat insulting to actual rape. So when I wrote this I decided I didn't want to put it up. Few years passed and now I'm not so against it. It's... not exactly like the old Nylon Dungeon series, and I'm not even sure if I should be writing in someone else's area without their permission, but I wanted to do a throwback so I did. Anyway, the old Nylon Dungeon stories were always pretty quick and named after the ticklee starring them. They also didn't have that much detail. So I tried to mimic that here but I'm still a bit more verbose than the old stuff. Except I don't think it's really descriptive enough either and... and then I posted it. Oh, except I threw fake in the name to differentiate it, since, you know, it's not actually nylon dungeon material. Per se. Hm.
The (Fake) Nylon Dungeon: Barbara vs. Elizabeth (F/F)
She awoke and knew instantly, despite her senses not returning fast enough to tell her that she was bound; that nauseous feeling wrenching around in her gullet and the fact that she did not remember falling asleep told her that they had not gotten far.
It was painful knowing that she had not made an escape, so much so that she feared opening her eyes. Already, she could sense that her helpless feet were bound beyond her, almost sobbing as she wiggled her toes in the damp air, realizing the shoes she had found had been stolen away again. Leather bit at her wrists and her arms ached, feelings that she had become accustomed to and had hoped she had put behind her forever.
But she hadn’t. They were there again, and she knew all too well why.
Upon opening her eyes she saw a man sitting in a wooden chair near one of the cement walls; which man it was mattered not to her, for the result was always the same. She wanted to vomit, but held it in as she raised her head defiantly, not wishing to give in to these villains. No, she knew she would, but she hoped not to so soon. That was when she realized Barbara was bound before her, her white-clad nylon soles dangling just over the edge of a table, mere inches from her face.
Barbara: her long time friend, whom she had conspired with to escape this horrid place. She remembered that night, when the two had drank too much at a friend's dorm party, awakening in one of these cells the following morning as they had been abducted by those… she hesitated to call them people. People could not wish this amount of suffering upon others.
Her thoughts were not long as they were soon interrupted by that man. “So, Elizabeth awakens and the show begins,” he said in a voice almost like that of a ring leader's; it sounded as if iron was being grated away by steel. “Well then, shall we begin?” His words were met with silence as neither of the two women dared speak. “Very well. I’ve been tasked with orchestrating your punishment for running away. I truly cannot believe that you two would wish to leave this paradise of ours.”
“Go to fucking hell!” Barbara spat at him despite being bound; their bondage was always different, almost always consisting of a stockade for the feet, but Barbara was spared of such a wretched device today; instead, her ankles and knees were heavily shackled to a padded table colored some sickly shade of maroon and her arms above her head, forming a V shape against the wall due to being held by three pairs of metal shackles, one at her biceps, another at her elbows and a third holding her wrists so that her hands were near her face.
“Now, now…” he continued, “Or else… well, you know. Now, if I’ve heard right, Elizabeth, this was your scheme,” he spat the word scheme, causing Elizabeth to gulp with the knowledge that her punishment would be much harsher than Barbara’s. At least she was not a favorite among the horrible people here, but poor Barbara… “So I’ve come up with a little game for the three of us to play. Elizabeth,” Again she gulped, the fear well etched into Barbara’s face as well as her own, “You will tickle Barbara here.”
“Wh… what?” Without another word, he smoothly rose and released her arms from the leather shackles that chained her to the ceiling. “I.. can’t…” Still he did not speak, choosing to instead walk behind her and kneel down near her feet, setting his palms upon her arches. Panicking, she swung back to cover them with her hands, but quickly found that her legs were pulled far behind her, held in place by a simple stockade bolted into the ground, so that she could not reach them or the man.
“I shouldn’t need to tell you what will happen if you don’t.” There was little else he needed to say. She knew she could not handle the tickling and would do anything in order to avoid it.
“Hey.. Elizabeth…” Barbara said, tears trickling down her face, sealing her shoulder length orange hair to her cheeks, “Come on… you said… you said…”
She was not allowed another word as Elizabeth fiercely raked her nails down her childhood friend’s soles, her fingers effortlessly gliding over her friend's thin feet, guided over her thick wrinkles by the translucent white material that feigned protection, mocking them both. A cold ball coalesced inside of Elizabeth as she inflicted the torture she wished to avoid, forcing Barbara to suffer so that she might avoid the torment herself. Amidst her terrifying howls, she could hear the man behind her speak, “Good, good…” A few seconds passed before he rose and stepped next to Barbara’s madly wiggling feet which desperately sought to escape Elizabeth’s long nails that invoked those hellishly enhanced sensations. He then grasped those defiant bundles of nerves tightly with his hands, forcing them to remain still as he stretched her toes back, leaving her deep arches very exposed for Elizabeth to explore.
Tears streamed down Elizabeth’s face as she was told to leave new marks in the very center of Barbara’s feet, so that she would forever be reminded of their pathetic escape attempt; all the while Barbara’s painful cackles sliced away at Elizabeth’s humanity as that horrendous smile was skillfully forged onto Barbara’s face. Despite the amount of suffering she endured, Barbara’s icy blue eyes never closed nor lost contact with Elizabeth’s own, no matter how fast she ran her nails down that single spot of a length no longer than an inch; it was a look that would haunt Elizabeth for the rest of her miserable and unhappily merry days, as would the vivid memory of tickling her friend harder and still harder with the hope that it would break that gaze.
Minutes passed sluggishly, dragging their feet in the dirt until so many had appeared on the road that it became choked, transforming into an hour that had been spent inscribing the marks into the centers of Barbara’s feet; she had lost the will to struggle against her bondage and do little more than cackle almost immediately, the whites of her teeth set ablaze by the flickering fluorescent light.
“Enough.” The man spoke, grasping Elizabeth’s wrists and forcing her to stop. Once again her arms were bound above her while she began to whimper, knowing what awaited her. “Your turn,” he said while making brutal eye contact with Elizabeth before freeing Barbara from the many bindings that held her, though she did not escape that single touch he made upon the marks that were freshly inscribed onto her; that single touch caused her to fall from the table, screaming with laughter for the better part of ten seconds. A single touch was all it took, Elizabeth realized as several beads of sweat mixed into the shallow stream of tears upon her face. There was a furious light in Barbara’s eyes as she hurriedly rose and stepped behind Elizabeth without instruction, threat or an attempt to escape via the unlocked door.
She remembered little else save laughing for excruciatingly long hours, the world melting beyond her senses the instant Barbara fell upon her feet. Of course she begged for anything else in the world to be done to her, though she had no memory of it. And when she was free of those haunting touches, Barbara was restrained once again so that Elizabeth could reign vengeance upon her.
The (Fake) Nylon Dungeon: Barbara vs. Elizabeth (F/F)
She awoke and knew instantly, despite her senses not returning fast enough to tell her that she was bound; that nauseous feeling wrenching around in her gullet and the fact that she did not remember falling asleep told her that they had not gotten far.
It was painful knowing that she had not made an escape, so much so that she feared opening her eyes. Already, she could sense that her helpless feet were bound beyond her, almost sobbing as she wiggled her toes in the damp air, realizing the shoes she had found had been stolen away again. Leather bit at her wrists and her arms ached, feelings that she had become accustomed to and had hoped she had put behind her forever.
But she hadn’t. They were there again, and she knew all too well why.
Upon opening her eyes she saw a man sitting in a wooden chair near one of the cement walls; which man it was mattered not to her, for the result was always the same. She wanted to vomit, but held it in as she raised her head defiantly, not wishing to give in to these villains. No, she knew she would, but she hoped not to so soon. That was when she realized Barbara was bound before her, her white-clad nylon soles dangling just over the edge of a table, mere inches from her face.
Barbara: her long time friend, whom she had conspired with to escape this horrid place. She remembered that night, when the two had drank too much at a friend's dorm party, awakening in one of these cells the following morning as they had been abducted by those… she hesitated to call them people. People could not wish this amount of suffering upon others.
Her thoughts were not long as they were soon interrupted by that man. “So, Elizabeth awakens and the show begins,” he said in a voice almost like that of a ring leader's; it sounded as if iron was being grated away by steel. “Well then, shall we begin?” His words were met with silence as neither of the two women dared speak. “Very well. I’ve been tasked with orchestrating your punishment for running away. I truly cannot believe that you two would wish to leave this paradise of ours.”
“Go to fucking hell!” Barbara spat at him despite being bound; their bondage was always different, almost always consisting of a stockade for the feet, but Barbara was spared of such a wretched device today; instead, her ankles and knees were heavily shackled to a padded table colored some sickly shade of maroon and her arms above her head, forming a V shape against the wall due to being held by three pairs of metal shackles, one at her biceps, another at her elbows and a third holding her wrists so that her hands were near her face.
“Now, now…” he continued, “Or else… well, you know. Now, if I’ve heard right, Elizabeth, this was your scheme,” he spat the word scheme, causing Elizabeth to gulp with the knowledge that her punishment would be much harsher than Barbara’s. At least she was not a favorite among the horrible people here, but poor Barbara… “So I’ve come up with a little game for the three of us to play. Elizabeth,” Again she gulped, the fear well etched into Barbara’s face as well as her own, “You will tickle Barbara here.”
“Wh… what?” Without another word, he smoothly rose and released her arms from the leather shackles that chained her to the ceiling. “I.. can’t…” Still he did not speak, choosing to instead walk behind her and kneel down near her feet, setting his palms upon her arches. Panicking, she swung back to cover them with her hands, but quickly found that her legs were pulled far behind her, held in place by a simple stockade bolted into the ground, so that she could not reach them or the man.
“I shouldn’t need to tell you what will happen if you don’t.” There was little else he needed to say. She knew she could not handle the tickling and would do anything in order to avoid it.
“Hey.. Elizabeth…” Barbara said, tears trickling down her face, sealing her shoulder length orange hair to her cheeks, “Come on… you said… you said…”
She was not allowed another word as Elizabeth fiercely raked her nails down her childhood friend’s soles, her fingers effortlessly gliding over her friend's thin feet, guided over her thick wrinkles by the translucent white material that feigned protection, mocking them both. A cold ball coalesced inside of Elizabeth as she inflicted the torture she wished to avoid, forcing Barbara to suffer so that she might avoid the torment herself. Amidst her terrifying howls, she could hear the man behind her speak, “Good, good…” A few seconds passed before he rose and stepped next to Barbara’s madly wiggling feet which desperately sought to escape Elizabeth’s long nails that invoked those hellishly enhanced sensations. He then grasped those defiant bundles of nerves tightly with his hands, forcing them to remain still as he stretched her toes back, leaving her deep arches very exposed for Elizabeth to explore.
Tears streamed down Elizabeth’s face as she was told to leave new marks in the very center of Barbara’s feet, so that she would forever be reminded of their pathetic escape attempt; all the while Barbara’s painful cackles sliced away at Elizabeth’s humanity as that horrendous smile was skillfully forged onto Barbara’s face. Despite the amount of suffering she endured, Barbara’s icy blue eyes never closed nor lost contact with Elizabeth’s own, no matter how fast she ran her nails down that single spot of a length no longer than an inch; it was a look that would haunt Elizabeth for the rest of her miserable and unhappily merry days, as would the vivid memory of tickling her friend harder and still harder with the hope that it would break that gaze.
Minutes passed sluggishly, dragging their feet in the dirt until so many had appeared on the road that it became choked, transforming into an hour that had been spent inscribing the marks into the centers of Barbara’s feet; she had lost the will to struggle against her bondage and do little more than cackle almost immediately, the whites of her teeth set ablaze by the flickering fluorescent light.
“Enough.” The man spoke, grasping Elizabeth’s wrists and forcing her to stop. Once again her arms were bound above her while she began to whimper, knowing what awaited her. “Your turn,” he said while making brutal eye contact with Elizabeth before freeing Barbara from the many bindings that held her, though she did not escape that single touch he made upon the marks that were freshly inscribed onto her; that single touch caused her to fall from the table, screaming with laughter for the better part of ten seconds. A single touch was all it took, Elizabeth realized as several beads of sweat mixed into the shallow stream of tears upon her face. There was a furious light in Barbara’s eyes as she hurriedly rose and stepped behind Elizabeth without instruction, threat or an attempt to escape via the unlocked door.
She remembered little else save laughing for excruciatingly long hours, the world melting beyond her senses the instant Barbara fell upon her feet. Of course she begged for anything else in the world to be done to her, though she had no memory of it. And when she was free of those haunting touches, Barbara was restrained once again so that Elizabeth could reign vengeance upon her.
