Not the most original title, I know. This story is wholly inspired by the sexy spy Silke Arches, and ties together some scenes from her first animated appearance. hopefully it has enough spook factor for the season, but hey, she's being tickle tortured, so that shourld count for something, right? Anywhoo...enjoy!
Silke had to admit, they had gotten the drop on her. She must have tripped an alarm somewhere, because she had barely penetrated the secret headquarters of the Orange Feather Illuminati before a hand clamped firmly over her nose and mouth; strong arms grabbed her and pinned her arms to her sides. The sickly sweet smell of chloroform soon rendered her unconscious. When she awoke, she was in rather a precarious situation. She was seated on some sort of strange chair, her legs strapped down over thigh and calf. Her arms were clamped tightly to her sides, with another pair of bands. Her jumpsuit had been unzipped, and her breasts had spilled out. This was bad enough, but not entirely unexpected. But the worst part was her feet were bare, and locked in place with a sturdy pair of stocks. Electronic locks were clamped down, and Silke could barely move. Masked technicians bustled around, setting a diabolical device by her vulnerable soles.
“Now then, Miss Arches,” a guttural, rasping voice came from behind her. “What exactly are you looking for?” Klaw; of course it was Klaw. Silke kept her mouth shut; these clown would get nothing from her.
“We can do this the easy way…” he rasped wickedly as one of the technicians clicked the machine on; a strange conic device glowed with a pinkish energy and a pointed probe sparked evilly.
“…or we can do it the hard way.”
“Walk east til your hat floats!” Silke replied. It was a defiant statement, but she had primed her ankle bracelet before entering the compound. This was the verbal command to start the countdown. In 60 seconds, it would go off, and then they’d be in for it.
“Very well.” Klaw gestured at the machine. “Begin.”
The machine extended two arms towards her feet. An electric crackling beam strobed over her soles, and the probe poked her helpless feet.
“AHHHH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
Silke shrieked in laughter as the diabolical device delivered truly terrifying ticklish sensations to her toes, her soles, and especially her sensitive arches. The young fetish spy wriggled helplessly, wiggling her feet in vain. The machine was not to be denied. The beam was bad enough, but the probe delivered sudden jolts of tickling to her feet. Her face flushed red, her perky breasts bounced invitingly as she giggled and squealed. Klaw asked no more questions. He wouldn’t; he’d just enjoy the show for however long it lasted, the pervy bastard. Silke pulled against her bonds. But any second now, her ankle bracelet would go off. It housed a small EMP device. It would pop the locks on the chair, it would shut down that infernal (wonderful) machine. She just had to hold out a few seconds more. Any second now…..
“And how long were you in the machine Agent Arches?” Four days later, and Silke’s supervisor was scrutinizing her report carefully.
“An hour, sir,” she replied. She had primed the ankle bracelet, but she toggled the wrong switch. It had been set to go off in 60 minutes, not 60 seconds. Nearly an hour of relentless tickle torture, and she had been reduced to a sweaty, spent mess in that diabolical tickle chair. She hadn’t broken, though, but she had to admit it was a very near thing. She wouldn’t have lasted much longer. They finally shut it down to give it a few minutes to cool down. But she knew from overhearing them that they were going to reset it and start again, this time on her tits as well. They were in the process of repositioning her arms when that damned bracelet finally went off. Silke gathered all the strength she had left (which wasn’t much), leapt off the table, tossed the techs at Klaw, and managed to make her escape.
“A terrible ordeal, agent, I’m sure. You’ve recovered fully?”
“Yes sir,” she replied.
“But I see you managed to get some intel before escaping the compound?”
“Yes sir.” She had hidden in a small room off the main corridor to catch her breath and gather her wits. The desk inside was littered with papers, which Silke stuffed into her jumpsuit. She then waylaid on of their troopers, stole his uniform, and slipped away.
“So the Orange Feather Illuminati believe this is a possible location for the mummified remains of the ancient and deviant Pharaoh Caafre Abin Balir?”
“Yes, a possible location, only though sir. I noticed a map that had several sites marked on it. That file holds the details they’ve assembled for that particular location. I apologize, I could not get any more files out sir.”
“But this is as good a place as any to start. I want you on the next flight out there, Agent.”
“Yes sir.” Recognizing she was being dismissed, she turned to leave. But before she reached the door, she turned back.
“Sir, I don’t understand, what makes this pharaoh Caafre… C.A.B. so dangerous. He’s dead, for thousands of years.”
“Yes Agent Arches. But it is said that the secret if immortality is buried with him. Not only must we prevent a secret like that from falling into the hands of the Orange Cabal, or the Order of the Violet Plume, or the Sisters of the Silent Squeal, we must make sure that the pharaoh C.A.B. as you put it, never rises again.”
“And if we’re too late? If he has somehow risen from his grave?”
“Then pray you can somehow avoid him, Agent Arches, or perhaps subdue him. The Gremlins are already working out a way to destroy him.”
“And…if I fail sir?”
The director eyed her with an almost pitying look.
“Then run. Run agent, because that pharaoh will unleash five thousand years of pent up, fetish driven torture on the first woman he finds. Five thousand years of frustration, of revenge, of devising the most fiendish tortures his diseased mind can concoct. Five thousand years unable to satisfy his lusts. Five. Thousand. Years. Pray it is not you.”
Silke tried not to gulp. And she ignored the flush of warmth in her groin at the thought of it.
“Yes sir,” she nodded, and left the office.
Several days later, Silke was creeping down into the depths of the tomb. She had tipped off the guards to insure some privacy. She had no idea how the Cabal, formally the Orange Feather Illuminati, had discovered its location, but they had done a marvelous job of excavating the site, or at least the entrance. But now Silke was slowly, carefully making her way deeper into the tomb, down long ramps, past small rooms containing ancient treasures. She was looking for one thing in particular; a sarcophagus. According to their intel, the pharaoh’s secrets were likely buried with him. Find the sarcophagus, find the secret to immortality.
So far there had been no booby traps like she was expecting. She had been focused on what was in front of her, and she had gone deep into the tomb. It had been hot outside, and was not much cooler inside. She had unzipped her jumpsuit as far as she dared, and perhaps a bit farther than was strictly decent, but no one was there to see. With no warning, a huge powerful arm seized her around the waist, pinner arms to her sides. Her tits burst from her suit, and she felt the breath squeezed out of her body. Silke kicked and struggled, but to no avail, her attacker was far too powerful. Darkness crept around the edges of her vision, she dropped her flashlight, and just before the blackness claimed her, she fancied she saw that arm wrapped in bandages…
The first thing she noticed when she regained consciousness was that she was standing upright. The second thing she noticed was her arms were pinned to her sides. Come to think of it, her entire body was wrapped in something. It was too dark to see, but she could feel a rush of air across her breasts. A flickering light grew brighter, and two figures approached, one bearing a torch. The torchbearer was immense, and wrapped in bandages. His (its?) features were obscured. The second grew clearer as they approached.
“Mmmmmph!” Silke exclaimed through some sort of gag over her face.
“Ah, the famous fetish agent Silke Arches. Welcome!” said the second figure. She didn’t recall ever having seen him before. He was of slight build, Middle Eastern or Indian descent judging by what she could see of his features. He had a fez perched on his graying head which bore the emblem of the Orange Feather Illuminati, and a monocle fixed firmly over one eye. As the light washed over her, she could finally see her predicament. She was wrapped in bandages, the same type that covered her other hulking captor. She could see the rumpled outline of her jumpsuit a few yards away. Her lower face was muffled, and she was strapped to some sort of sturdy upright post, hoisted just enough that only her toes could brush the floor if she stretched. She could feel her breasts were exposed, as were her feet.
“We’re so grateful my dear, for your assistance her this evening.”
“Mmmph mmmph mph?”
“Oh yes,” said the man. His voice was high pitched and reedy, but his eyes were alive with malice.
“You see, we know a few things about the tombs of Pharaoh Caafre Abin Balir. Each tomb has a guard, one eternally tasked with protecting the tomb. They are to ensnare any intruders, who will be dealt with by the pharaoh himself upon his resurrection.”
Silke glanced at the giant mummy, then back at the Illuminati.
“Ah, I divine your question, Miss Arches. You see, while the guard was busying itself with securing you, I used some spells we uncovered to take control of the creature. No doubt, it will prove invaluable in penetrating the mysteries of the other tombs scattered around the area.”
He stepped closer. Silke could see he was clutching something like a sack in his hand. What fiendish devilry was he going to unleash on her?
“Now then, my delectable young fetish agent, we must be on our way. But I have no wish to leave you alone. So I shall leave you with these!” He pulled several wriggling serpents from the sack.
“Common garter snakes, no venom to speak of. But with a few choice spells of the pharaoh’s, and I’m sure they will give you quite a ticklish time!” and with that, he let them drop to the floor. The serpents slithered straight for her. Silke danced on her toes, trying to move them out of the way, but it was no good. She was wrapped too tightly. The first serpent reached her, coiled around her ankles, and flicked its forked tongue over her soles.
“MMMMMPHHH! MPH MPH MPH MPH MPH!” Silke’s laughter was muffled by the bandages over her face, but they echoed down the corridor nonetheless. Two more serpents joined the first, not biting, but flicking their tongues over her helpless feet. Eyes squeezed shut with laughter, she failed to notice a dozen more serpents emerge from the sack. They slithered up her wriggling body. Several started flicking their tongues over her bouncing tits.
“MMMMM! MMMMMMMMMMMPHH!” Silke’s eyes flew open in surprise as the snakes started tickling her breasts, quickly homing in on her nipples. This fresh torture was just as unbearable as the tickling of her feet, but also sent a surge of heat and moisture to her groin. No sooner had she had this thought, then she became aware of two more snakes (how many had been in that bag?) tearing away the bandages covering her groin. Her legs were still clamped together, but they soon exposed her smooth mound. Tongues flicked out, teasing the top of her pussy, skittering over her swelling clit, and her muffled screams pierced the air. Having her feet tickled was bad enough. Having her feet and her breasts tickled was unbearable. But tickling her clit as well was the most wicked torture Silke had ever experienced. The serpents’ tongues darted all over her helpless body, teasing, tickling, torturing her straining sensitive body. She had been tied to the post leaning away from it slightly, so gravity and poor leverage meant she couldn’t pull away, and she was tied so tight she could barely wriggle. She couldn’t shake them off. It was maddening, being unable to escape this relentless, torturous tickling. Against her will, she could also feel herself becoming aroused, getting wet, flushed. There was pleasure in the tickling, but the sheer intensity, the torturous inescapability, kept any hope of an orgasm a dim one. She had activated the homing beacon in her toe ring. This one thought penetrated the haze of torture. Help would eventually come. But how long could she hold out against this ticklish onslaught? Flick flick flick, the tongues were merciless. And Silke Arches squealed and screamed into her muffling gag, writhing helplessly.
The Baron Samden and his new hulking mummy emerged from the entrance of the tomb; Silke’s muffled cries echoing dimly behind them. A sinister figure stood waiting for them. He bowed before the man.
“It is as you said, master. The servant is ours now.”
“And the girl?” Klaw’s rasping voice was soft, but carried clear on the desert air.
“She is below, enduring one of the pharaoh’s unspeakable tortures. I dropped clues as to the whereabouts of the other tombs, as you instructed. And I retrieved this.” He handed over Silke’s toe ring. He had slipped it off while she was still unconscious, just after he had enslaved the mummy.
“Well done, Baron. I am most pleased.” Klaw checked to see if the ring was transmitting, and then tossed it just outside the entrance to the tomb.
“Master? You do not intend to leave her there? Trapped forever?”
“I do not. Let her…enjoy the pharaoh’s hospitality. And let her comrades come to her rescue. It will fuel her desire for revenge. She will seek out the other tombs, and she will be the one to suffer the pharaoh’s curses. All we have to do is wait. The pharaoh’s secrets will be ours, and Silke Arches will be our key.” Klaw turned to leave.
“When do you expect her comrades to arrive?”
“In the morning.”
“Do you think she will be…sane?”
“If she is not, we will find another way. But the girl is strong. I have no doubt she can endure the torture you have left her in. No, Baron. Silke Arches will return, she will see out another tomb, and yet another. And we will be right behind her.”
The three figures trudged away. Deep in the tomb, Silke struggled and shrieked in ticklish torture. The desert wind carried her cries away.
THE END?
THE PHARAOH'S CURSE
A SILKE ARCHES ADVENTURE
A SILKE ARCHES ADVENTURE
Silke had to admit, they had gotten the drop on her. She must have tripped an alarm somewhere, because she had barely penetrated the secret headquarters of the Orange Feather Illuminati before a hand clamped firmly over her nose and mouth; strong arms grabbed her and pinned her arms to her sides. The sickly sweet smell of chloroform soon rendered her unconscious. When she awoke, she was in rather a precarious situation. She was seated on some sort of strange chair, her legs strapped down over thigh and calf. Her arms were clamped tightly to her sides, with another pair of bands. Her jumpsuit had been unzipped, and her breasts had spilled out. This was bad enough, but not entirely unexpected. But the worst part was her feet were bare, and locked in place with a sturdy pair of stocks. Electronic locks were clamped down, and Silke could barely move. Masked technicians bustled around, setting a diabolical device by her vulnerable soles.
“Now then, Miss Arches,” a guttural, rasping voice came from behind her. “What exactly are you looking for?” Klaw; of course it was Klaw. Silke kept her mouth shut; these clown would get nothing from her.
“We can do this the easy way…” he rasped wickedly as one of the technicians clicked the machine on; a strange conic device glowed with a pinkish energy and a pointed probe sparked evilly.
“…or we can do it the hard way.”
“Walk east til your hat floats!” Silke replied. It was a defiant statement, but she had primed her ankle bracelet before entering the compound. This was the verbal command to start the countdown. In 60 seconds, it would go off, and then they’d be in for it.
“Very well.” Klaw gestured at the machine. “Begin.”
The machine extended two arms towards her feet. An electric crackling beam strobed over her soles, and the probe poked her helpless feet.
“AHHHH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
Silke shrieked in laughter as the diabolical device delivered truly terrifying ticklish sensations to her toes, her soles, and especially her sensitive arches. The young fetish spy wriggled helplessly, wiggling her feet in vain. The machine was not to be denied. The beam was bad enough, but the probe delivered sudden jolts of tickling to her feet. Her face flushed red, her perky breasts bounced invitingly as she giggled and squealed. Klaw asked no more questions. He wouldn’t; he’d just enjoy the show for however long it lasted, the pervy bastard. Silke pulled against her bonds. But any second now, her ankle bracelet would go off. It housed a small EMP device. It would pop the locks on the chair, it would shut down that infernal (wonderful) machine. She just had to hold out a few seconds more. Any second now…..
“And how long were you in the machine Agent Arches?” Four days later, and Silke’s supervisor was scrutinizing her report carefully.
“An hour, sir,” she replied. She had primed the ankle bracelet, but she toggled the wrong switch. It had been set to go off in 60 minutes, not 60 seconds. Nearly an hour of relentless tickle torture, and she had been reduced to a sweaty, spent mess in that diabolical tickle chair. She hadn’t broken, though, but she had to admit it was a very near thing. She wouldn’t have lasted much longer. They finally shut it down to give it a few minutes to cool down. But she knew from overhearing them that they were going to reset it and start again, this time on her tits as well. They were in the process of repositioning her arms when that damned bracelet finally went off. Silke gathered all the strength she had left (which wasn’t much), leapt off the table, tossed the techs at Klaw, and managed to make her escape.
“A terrible ordeal, agent, I’m sure. You’ve recovered fully?”
“Yes sir,” she replied.
“But I see you managed to get some intel before escaping the compound?”
“Yes sir.” She had hidden in a small room off the main corridor to catch her breath and gather her wits. The desk inside was littered with papers, which Silke stuffed into her jumpsuit. She then waylaid on of their troopers, stole his uniform, and slipped away.
“So the Orange Feather Illuminati believe this is a possible location for the mummified remains of the ancient and deviant Pharaoh Caafre Abin Balir?”
“Yes, a possible location, only though sir. I noticed a map that had several sites marked on it. That file holds the details they’ve assembled for that particular location. I apologize, I could not get any more files out sir.”
“But this is as good a place as any to start. I want you on the next flight out there, Agent.”
“Yes sir.” Recognizing she was being dismissed, she turned to leave. But before she reached the door, she turned back.
“Sir, I don’t understand, what makes this pharaoh Caafre… C.A.B. so dangerous. He’s dead, for thousands of years.”
“Yes Agent Arches. But it is said that the secret if immortality is buried with him. Not only must we prevent a secret like that from falling into the hands of the Orange Cabal, or the Order of the Violet Plume, or the Sisters of the Silent Squeal, we must make sure that the pharaoh C.A.B. as you put it, never rises again.”
“And if we’re too late? If he has somehow risen from his grave?”
“Then pray you can somehow avoid him, Agent Arches, or perhaps subdue him. The Gremlins are already working out a way to destroy him.”
“And…if I fail sir?”
The director eyed her with an almost pitying look.
“Then run. Run agent, because that pharaoh will unleash five thousand years of pent up, fetish driven torture on the first woman he finds. Five thousand years of frustration, of revenge, of devising the most fiendish tortures his diseased mind can concoct. Five thousand years unable to satisfy his lusts. Five. Thousand. Years. Pray it is not you.”
Silke tried not to gulp. And she ignored the flush of warmth in her groin at the thought of it.
“Yes sir,” she nodded, and left the office.
Several days later, Silke was creeping down into the depths of the tomb. She had tipped off the guards to insure some privacy. She had no idea how the Cabal, formally the Orange Feather Illuminati, had discovered its location, but they had done a marvelous job of excavating the site, or at least the entrance. But now Silke was slowly, carefully making her way deeper into the tomb, down long ramps, past small rooms containing ancient treasures. She was looking for one thing in particular; a sarcophagus. According to their intel, the pharaoh’s secrets were likely buried with him. Find the sarcophagus, find the secret to immortality.
So far there had been no booby traps like she was expecting. She had been focused on what was in front of her, and she had gone deep into the tomb. It had been hot outside, and was not much cooler inside. She had unzipped her jumpsuit as far as she dared, and perhaps a bit farther than was strictly decent, but no one was there to see. With no warning, a huge powerful arm seized her around the waist, pinner arms to her sides. Her tits burst from her suit, and she felt the breath squeezed out of her body. Silke kicked and struggled, but to no avail, her attacker was far too powerful. Darkness crept around the edges of her vision, she dropped her flashlight, and just before the blackness claimed her, she fancied she saw that arm wrapped in bandages…
The first thing she noticed when she regained consciousness was that she was standing upright. The second thing she noticed was her arms were pinned to her sides. Come to think of it, her entire body was wrapped in something. It was too dark to see, but she could feel a rush of air across her breasts. A flickering light grew brighter, and two figures approached, one bearing a torch. The torchbearer was immense, and wrapped in bandages. His (its?) features were obscured. The second grew clearer as they approached.
“Mmmmmph!” Silke exclaimed through some sort of gag over her face.
“Ah, the famous fetish agent Silke Arches. Welcome!” said the second figure. She didn’t recall ever having seen him before. He was of slight build, Middle Eastern or Indian descent judging by what she could see of his features. He had a fez perched on his graying head which bore the emblem of the Orange Feather Illuminati, and a monocle fixed firmly over one eye. As the light washed over her, she could finally see her predicament. She was wrapped in bandages, the same type that covered her other hulking captor. She could see the rumpled outline of her jumpsuit a few yards away. Her lower face was muffled, and she was strapped to some sort of sturdy upright post, hoisted just enough that only her toes could brush the floor if she stretched. She could feel her breasts were exposed, as were her feet.
“We’re so grateful my dear, for your assistance her this evening.”
“Mmmph mmmph mph?”
“Oh yes,” said the man. His voice was high pitched and reedy, but his eyes were alive with malice.
“You see, we know a few things about the tombs of Pharaoh Caafre Abin Balir. Each tomb has a guard, one eternally tasked with protecting the tomb. They are to ensnare any intruders, who will be dealt with by the pharaoh himself upon his resurrection.”
Silke glanced at the giant mummy, then back at the Illuminati.
“Ah, I divine your question, Miss Arches. You see, while the guard was busying itself with securing you, I used some spells we uncovered to take control of the creature. No doubt, it will prove invaluable in penetrating the mysteries of the other tombs scattered around the area.”
He stepped closer. Silke could see he was clutching something like a sack in his hand. What fiendish devilry was he going to unleash on her?
“Now then, my delectable young fetish agent, we must be on our way. But I have no wish to leave you alone. So I shall leave you with these!” He pulled several wriggling serpents from the sack.
“Common garter snakes, no venom to speak of. But with a few choice spells of the pharaoh’s, and I’m sure they will give you quite a ticklish time!” and with that, he let them drop to the floor. The serpents slithered straight for her. Silke danced on her toes, trying to move them out of the way, but it was no good. She was wrapped too tightly. The first serpent reached her, coiled around her ankles, and flicked its forked tongue over her soles.
“MMMMMPHHH! MPH MPH MPH MPH MPH!” Silke’s laughter was muffled by the bandages over her face, but they echoed down the corridor nonetheless. Two more serpents joined the first, not biting, but flicking their tongues over her helpless feet. Eyes squeezed shut with laughter, she failed to notice a dozen more serpents emerge from the sack. They slithered up her wriggling body. Several started flicking their tongues over her bouncing tits.
“MMMMM! MMMMMMMMMMMPHH!” Silke’s eyes flew open in surprise as the snakes started tickling her breasts, quickly homing in on her nipples. This fresh torture was just as unbearable as the tickling of her feet, but also sent a surge of heat and moisture to her groin. No sooner had she had this thought, then she became aware of two more snakes (how many had been in that bag?) tearing away the bandages covering her groin. Her legs were still clamped together, but they soon exposed her smooth mound. Tongues flicked out, teasing the top of her pussy, skittering over her swelling clit, and her muffled screams pierced the air. Having her feet tickled was bad enough. Having her feet and her breasts tickled was unbearable. But tickling her clit as well was the most wicked torture Silke had ever experienced. The serpents’ tongues darted all over her helpless body, teasing, tickling, torturing her straining sensitive body. She had been tied to the post leaning away from it slightly, so gravity and poor leverage meant she couldn’t pull away, and she was tied so tight she could barely wriggle. She couldn’t shake them off. It was maddening, being unable to escape this relentless, torturous tickling. Against her will, she could also feel herself becoming aroused, getting wet, flushed. There was pleasure in the tickling, but the sheer intensity, the torturous inescapability, kept any hope of an orgasm a dim one. She had activated the homing beacon in her toe ring. This one thought penetrated the haze of torture. Help would eventually come. But how long could she hold out against this ticklish onslaught? Flick flick flick, the tongues were merciless. And Silke Arches squealed and screamed into her muffling gag, writhing helplessly.
The Baron Samden and his new hulking mummy emerged from the entrance of the tomb; Silke’s muffled cries echoing dimly behind them. A sinister figure stood waiting for them. He bowed before the man.
“It is as you said, master. The servant is ours now.”
“And the girl?” Klaw’s rasping voice was soft, but carried clear on the desert air.
“She is below, enduring one of the pharaoh’s unspeakable tortures. I dropped clues as to the whereabouts of the other tombs, as you instructed. And I retrieved this.” He handed over Silke’s toe ring. He had slipped it off while she was still unconscious, just after he had enslaved the mummy.
“Well done, Baron. I am most pleased.” Klaw checked to see if the ring was transmitting, and then tossed it just outside the entrance to the tomb.
“Master? You do not intend to leave her there? Trapped forever?”
“I do not. Let her…enjoy the pharaoh’s hospitality. And let her comrades come to her rescue. It will fuel her desire for revenge. She will seek out the other tombs, and she will be the one to suffer the pharaoh’s curses. All we have to do is wait. The pharaoh’s secrets will be ours, and Silke Arches will be our key.” Klaw turned to leave.
“When do you expect her comrades to arrive?”
“In the morning.”
“Do you think she will be…sane?”
“If she is not, we will find another way. But the girl is strong. I have no doubt she can endure the torture you have left her in. No, Baron. Silke Arches will return, she will see out another tomb, and yet another. And we will be right behind her.”
The three figures trudged away. Deep in the tomb, Silke struggled and shrieked in ticklish torture. The desert wind carried her cries away.
THE END?
Fine contribution to Oktoberfetish. 
