I joined the TMF quite a while ago, and while I’ve posted a few comments here and there, I’ve mostly been a lurker.
I figure it’s time to start sharing.
Over the years, I’ve amassed a library of tickling stories I’ve written. They take place in a fantasy world populated by beautiful, ticklish, and usually scantily clad women. In this fantasy world, pretty much everything revolves around tickling and sensuality. Sometimes, like in the story below, there’s a male narrator. How did he get there? I don’t know. It’s a fantasy. Once upon a time I think I made up a typically goofy sci-fi explanation, like he was “trapped” in a virtual reality machine, or in another dimension, or something. So, if you need a reason, you can have that one. In this story, and in a few others, he’s a country peasant living in the remote parish of a kingdom.
Of course, the literal among us might have a few questions. If almost everything involves tickling, and they never get tired of it, and they’re always turned-on, why would they want to do anything else? If everything involves tickling, why are they surprised when they’re tickled? Why do they say things like “what are you going to do to me?” when they’re tied spread-eagled and naked to a rack and their captor pulls out a feather? Where do they get their food and clothes? Who builds the houses, huts, and palaces they live in? Why do they wear bras…
I don’t know. It’s all a fantasy. (and why do they wear bras? Because there are few things hotter than a beautiful, curvy woman wearing nothing but a bra and shorts).
So, I probably don’t need to go on like this. After all, writers like Kunzite, ticklemantis, TQLR, Grolsche, Jaynin, and many, many others I could name, are all (I gather) very popular, and since many of their stories feature lusty, voluptuous beauties tickled into orgasm and no one seems to have a problem with them, I probably don’t need to explain myself so much. But it occurred to me that I originally wrote all these stories without intending to share them with anyone. I got kind of self-conscious, and thought I needed to give them some context.
Part of the scenario was inspired by a story called “Tickle Wars” (I think) that I read in Penthouse Variations a long, long time ago. Those of a certain age might remember it. I haven’t read it in decades.
But I’ve gone on…
Without further ado, here’s part 1 of “Night of the Blondes.”
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Night of the Blondes
Part 1
Late afternoon had just crossed the point where it becomes early evening, the sinking sun spreading its glow across the wheat fields of the parish, and I was skimming down the narrow dirt road on my scooter, headed home after an afternoon spent apple-picking. I was in a good mood, and not just because of the dozen or so ripe apples filling the small, burlap sack in one of the scooter’s side storage compartments. The orchard where I had spent the afternoon was sort of out-of-the-way — untended and isolated, it didn’t belong to any of the farmers or landladies in the area; I had visited there many times before, and it always yielded a good harvest. Today, though, it had yielded another kind of bounty in the shapely form of a tallish beauty with long dark brown hair named Abby, or “big Abby” as the other girls in the parish sometimes called her.
One of the dangers of going out to such a secluded spot by yourself was that you might get jumped by a peasant woman — or even a group of them — out to liven up their workday with a little fun. Luckily for me, Abby was alone — if she had had a companion with her, things might have turned out differently. She attacked me first, creeping up behind me while I was engaged and pouncing on me. She was pretty strong, and had surprise on her side, but I fought like crazy. We tussled on the ground and I was able to gain the upper hand. It took a lot of effort on my part, but I was able to tie her to a tree, wrists bound to the trunk behind her back.
I didn’t know Abby very well — the peasants in the parish typically banded together in loose groups or gangs for protection, and sometimes alliances formed between groups, leading to a pretty wide circle of acquaintances. Abby didn’t belong to my little group, or any group I really knew, but I had seen her around, and I had always wanted to get my hands on her. I stripped off her shirt and bra, leaving her in just skin-tight jeans, and tickled the hell out of her for a long time before I finally gave her some relief. When our fun was over I untied her. She was still laying on the ground unconscious and giggling softly in her sleep when I headed home.
But of course my fun with Abby had put me in the mood for more fun, and I was thinking of paying a visit tonight to a strawberry blonde named Loober who owed me a favor when I rounded a bend and, up ahead, spotted a lone peasant woman standing by the side of the road. Her hands were on her hips, and she was looking at a length of fence that bordered a cornfield. She saw me, and waved her arms for me to stop.
This woman I knew pretty well. Her name was Feth, and she was a tall, athletic-looking woman with short, straight sandy-blonde hair. She wasn’t one of my group, but some of the girls in my circle of friends were friendly with some of the girls in her circle of friends, so we knew each other, and I didn’t find it all that unusual that she would want to stop and chat if she saw me out and about.
I pulled to a stop a few yards away, and she gave me a friendly greeting. She was very cute, with a dusting of very light freckles across her cheeks, and today she was looking particularly fetching, clad in a black, short sleeved form fitting top and tight jeans that emphasized her slim, athletic physique — the gentle curve of her long hips; her trim waist and tight stomach; and firm, round breasts that weren’t particularly large but easily more than a handful.
“Thank goodness you came along,” she said. “Could you help me out? I’ve been trying to fix this fence by myself, but it looks like it’s a two-person job. Can you give me a hand? Please? It won’t take very long, and there’s a fresh pitcher of cool lemonade waiting up at the house when we’re finished…”
I was off the scooter before she had even finished her request. We spent about twenty minutes wresting the beam into place and securing it, and though it didn’t take all that long, we were both pretty sweaty by the time Feth pronounced it done. “You look like you could use a drink,” Feth said, wiping her brow. “So could I. Come on.”
Pushing the scooter, I followed Feth down the short lane through the corn stalks to her house, watching her shapely jean-clad buns roll as she walked. “You can leave your scooter out here,” Feth said once we reached her yard. “It’s safe. Come on in after you’re done freshening up.” She pointed to a water pump a few yards away. I was grateful for the opportunity to clean some of the sweat and dust off me, and then went in to join Feth.
Her house was a simple farm house, not much different from most of the houses in the area. Feth was standing by the table drinking a tall cup of lemonade. She held one out for me. “Well, thanks again for helping me,” she said as I took a big gulp. “I’ve been working all day. I knew I had to fix that fence, but just kept putting it off. I thought it would be too much for me to handle by myself, and… it turns out I was right.” She laughed. “I’ll bet you’ve been pretty busy today, too,” she said.
I told her a little about my day — leaving out the part about Abby, of course — and we chatted for a minute or two. Nothing really seemed “off” to me until I raised my head and the whole room seemed to go out of focus. I felt dizzy, and put my hand on the table to steady myself. “Are you feeling okay?” Feth asked.
“I jushtt…” I couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“Probably too much sun,” Feth said. “Here, sit down…”
But I somehow missed the chair and crashed to the floor. As I lay on my back, the room spinning around me in a blur, the last thing I saw was Feth’s grinning face hovering over me, growing rapidly fuzzier until everything faded to black…
I woke to find myself in a small, dimly lit bedroom. I was lying on a bed, my arms bound together over my head to the bed stand behind me. My ankles were fastened to the bars at the other end, slightly parted. I was totally naked, and instantly aware of what had happened — Feth had slipped something in the lemonade. I tugged at the ropes that bound me, but only succeeded in rattling the bed frame.
The door opened. “I thought I heard you fussing around in here,” Feth said, smiling at me as she closed the door behind her. “I’m glad you’re awake. Did you have a nice nap?”
“You tricked me.”
Feth sat on the edge of the bed, the inner swell of one breast rising up past the hem of her neckline as she leaned over me. “Yes I did. And it wasn’t too tough, either. The oldest trick in the book and you totally fell for it.”
“But you said you needed help…”
Feth laughed. “Oh, don’t act so innocent. You were just helping me out of the goodness of your heart, right? Hmmm, I wonder what Abby would say about your brand of kindness?”
She saw the surprise on my face. “That’s right. I saw you this afternoon,” she said. “You certainly gave ‘big Abby’ a dose of her own medicine. I swear I could hear her cackling from a mile away.”
“You were spying on me?”
“Not really. I just happened to see you and knew you’d be coming my way once you had your fun. I saw an opportunity, and took advantage of it.”
“An opportunity? For what? What do you want?”
“The hardest part was dragging you in here,” Feth went on. “This is my guest room. Do you like it?”
“You have a funny way of treating your guests,” I said, tugging on the ropes. “How long was I out?”
“Not long. Maybe an hour.” Feth got up and went to the side of the room. She dragged a small, low table from against the wall over to the side of the bed and sat down again, her back towards me. There were some small items on the table, but I couldn’t make them out; Feth’s back blocked my view as she leaned over the table fussing with whatever was on there.
“You still haven’t told me what you want,” I said.
Feth smiled at me over her shoulder. “Who said I want anything?” she said. “What did you ‘want’ from Abby this afternoon?”
“Abby? What do you care about Abby?”
“You’re right, I don’t,” she laughed. “I’m just teasing you.” She scooted a few inches up the bed and leaned towards me again, but this time I noticed she was holding a small brush in one hand, its fine tip coated with gold paint. “The truth is, I still need your help. Like I said, I’m doing a little redecorating, and I was thinking of re-painting this room. I thought you’d like to help me try out a few color schemes.” She lowered the brush towards my left nipple, pausing less than half an inch away.
I tried not to let the panic I was feeling seep into my voice. “If you’re trying to tickle me, it won’t work,” I said. “I’m not ticklish there.”
“Well, good. This shouldn’t be a problem then…”
I clamped my mouth shut and tried not to flinch as Feth traced a small star around my left nipple. She colored it in using little brisk dabs; it took all my effort to remain still and suppress the laughter I felt welling up inside me. I was fairly trembling when she finally stopped and leaned back to look at her work. “See?” I said, trying not to gasp. “That doesn’t work on me.”
“I still have the other one to do,” she said, dipping the brush in one of the jars on the small table before turning back to me. “You’ve done a good job holding still so far.”
I tensed, holding my breath as she went to work. But I broke into giggles before she even finished tracing the outline of the second star, thrashing in the bonds and begging her to stop. She ignored my pleas, concentrating on her work while a little distracted smile played on her lips. “You lied to me,” she said once she had stopped and I lay there trying to regain my composure. “You told me you weren’t ticklish there. But look! All your jerking around made me mess up my star. I’m going to have to start over…”
With a look of intense concentration, she once again lowered the brush to my right nipple. “Feth, no…!” I cried, staring at the tip of the brush as it came closer.
“Now try to stay still,” she said. “You wouldn’t want me to have to do it again, would you?”
My hands balled into fists and I snorted back a burst of laughter as she slowly began to draw the star again. I tried not to squirm, but the feeling of that fine tip flicking across this most sensitive area was excruciating, and I couldn’t help but twist and twitch, the giggles pouring out of me, becoming slightly more hysterical with every moment she spent with that brush.
“There, that’s much better,” she said when she was done. “Now what next? Blue, I think…” She picked up a new instrument, this one a little larger, with a wide flat brush on the end. “No, Feth, don’t… Eeee-hee-hee-hee!” She ran it down my upper arm, from my elbow to my armpit, covering the skin with long, slow strokes over and over again. I was laughing hysterically, yanking on the cords and trying to twist away. “F-f-f-etthhh! Stop! Ahahahaha!” She leaned over me to give my other arm the same treatment, a position that would have given me a fantastic view of her cleavage if I wasn’t laughing so hard. “Aahahaha! No-hoo-hoo-hoo! Waahaa-haahaha!”
My head rolled from side to side as I laughed helplessly, She switched back and forth between my arm pits, keeping me thrashing and howling, my arms straining against their bonds as I tried desperately to find relief from that terrible brush.
“There,” she said, at last lifting the brush. “That’s a nice color…”
My chest heaved. “Feth, no more, please…”
Feth picked up a smaller brush and started on my arms again. I vowed that this time I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of laughing, clamping my mouth shut and steeling myself against the sensation. But as the brush slowly traveled from my elbows down along my biceps, stroking the skin there, taking its sweet time before it reached my armpits, a small snicker escaped my lips. I shuddered, then jerked, biting my lower lip as the bristles flicked across my underarm. The tickling seemed to build, becoming harder to bear with every little stroke. “F-f-f-eth… st-st-stopp…” I managed to gasp.
My captor merely smiled, intent on her work. The brush left my armpit and flicked down my side, its pace slow and assured. My body shook with suppressed laughter. “Feth… hahaha… no-ho-hoo…” I lost it completely when she reached my waist, completely abandoning myself to laughter. It took me several moments to recover when she finally stopped. “No more, Feth,” I gasped. “No more. Please. I can’t take it.”
Feth merely smiled as she turned back to me with a new paint-coated brush. I pulled frantically at the cords. “No more, please! I’ll do whatever you want!”
Feth drew the brush across my heaving ribs. Though it didn’t tickle as intensely as before, I still struggled and pleaded with her to stop. “Actually,” Feth said as she painted. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Wh-what?”
“There’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
“You can ask we whatever you want! Just stop!”
But Feth didn’t stop until she had thoroughly coated my ribs and left me trembling and gasping. She turned back to the side table, cleaning the brush in a small jar of water and drying it off. “I want to know where Angie is.”
“Wh-who?”
“ ‘Wh-hoo?’” she mocked. “Don’t play coy with me. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
I did know what she was talking about. Angie was a peasant woman in the area, and a real beauty — tall, blonde, broad-shouldered and large-breasted, with long legs, big lips and creamy skin. On top of that, there was something almost innocent about her. She liked her fun, of course, but overall she was a real sweetheart, and hardly seemed to have a devious bone in her incredible body. But she had caught the eye of Raquel, a red-haired bounty hunter for Queens Dolly and Fancy whose job it was to track down country girls who hadn’t paid their taxes. Angie had not been the target of her search — like I said, Angie usually played by the rules and kept herself out of trouble — but Raquel saw her when she was after someone else. Later, she had kidnapped Angie and tortured the blonde peasant in a secret hideout deep in the forest. But Angie had escaped before Raquel was finished with her, and to our surprise proved a little more wicked that any of us had previously imagined. She knew Raquel would come after her, so she set a trap, capturing the cruel bounty hunter and tickling her silly before giving her to one of the bands of outlaws hiding in the remote wooded hills of the kingdom. Since then, Angie had gone into hiding, and Dolly and Fancy’s police had been scouring the countryside for her.
“Well, yeah, everybody knows about Angie…”
“Then you know there’s a big reward for her capture,” Feth said. “I intend to get it.”
“But I don’t know where Angie is,” I said.
Feth let out a peal of laughter. “I know she’s a part of your little circle of friends,” she said, leaning over me with another brush in her hand. “She goes around with Molly and Mary and those other girls. I know you must be hiding her somewhere. Now tell me where she is.”
The nagging anxiety I had started to feel the moment she mentioned Angie blossomed into a very real fear. Because Feth was right: I knew exactly where Angie was hiding. Worse yet, Feth knew I knew, and was intent on getting it out of me.
“But Feth, I swear I don’t know,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s true, she’s friends with those women, but none of us know where she is.”
Feth sighed. “Well, okay, if that’s the way you want to do this…”
I pulled at the bindings. “Please, Feth, I can’t tell you what I don’t know, no matter how much you torture me. It’s a waste of time.”
“Oh, I’d hardly call it a waste of time,” Feth said. “I’m thoroughly enjoying myself. I’d call it a good time. I’d call it a wonderful way to spend an evening. But most of all, I’d call it a guaranteed way to get the information I want.”
She began swirling the brush across my stomach, making slow, lazy circles and loops which had me squirming and sputtering as I fought to hold back laughter. “”F-f-f-e-th-th… ahh… no-ho-ho… staha-ha-happ… ahahahaha!”
“Just tell me where Angie is and I’ll stop,” she said.
“Ahhh-haa-haa-haa-haa! Wwaa-haa-haa-haa!”
Feth took her time, never altering her pace while I screamed and writhed underneath the brush, the bristles coating every inch of my quivering belly with paint. When she was done, I lay there giggling as she fiddled with her tray of brushes and paints. “You’ve got to believe me, Feth! I don’t know anything…” My words were cut off as Feth, a new brush in her hand, began painting my right thigh. I immediately burst into giggles, fighting to close my legs as the bristles stroked their way down the length of my thigh to my knee and then back up again, each up-and-down journey bringing the brush a little closer to my sensitive inner thigh.
“How long do you think you can endure this?” Feth said. “I’ve just shown you a taste of what I can do so far, and already you’re half-hysterical. And there’s so much of you that I haven’t even touched yet. There’s the bottoms of your feet, your other thigh…”
“Noo-hoo-hoo! Sta-ha-ha-happ! Eee-hee-hee!”
“But I’m not going to stop. I’m going to paint every inch of you, and when I’m done, I’ll start all over again. And I’ll only stop when you tell me where your friends are hiding Angie.”
The brush began stroking my inner thigh and I let out a high-pitched peal of laughter. Feth merely grinned down at me as I struggled and screamed, my pleas for mercy devolving into gibberish as she tickled and tickled and tickled my thighs with her brush.
“I have to say, I’m touched by the loyalty you’ve shown to your friends,” she said when she removed the brush. “Do you think they would do the same for you? What if I had, say, Molly all tied up? How much tickling do you think that buxom body could take before she gave you away? Or Bridget? Or Loober?”
She held up another brush, this one the smallest yet, with a super-fine tip coated in yellow. I stared at it, my tickle-wracked body already quivering in anticipation. Feth waved the brush back and forth, grinning as she saw my eyes follow it. “Hmmm, this one seems to have caught your attention,” she said. “What do you think I’m going to do with it?”
I whimpered.
“Not even a guess?” she said. “Okay, I’ll just get right to it…” Still grinning at me, Feth twirled the soft, pointed tip of the brush in my naval.
"HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!" I screamed, my naked body arching off the bed. "Pleee-hee-hee-heeeessse!”
"Oooo, I think I found a spot…”
I bellowed with laughter as she continued twirling the brush. "Aaaa-hahahahaha! Oh-no-hohoho!”
"Do you want me to stop?” Feth said, withdrawing the brush from my belly button and lightly swirling it back and forth across my heaving stomach. "You know what you have to do. Just tell me where Angie is hiding and I’ll stop this terrible torture.”
“I don’t know,” I gasped. “I swear, Feth! You have to believe me! Haven’t you tortured me enough?”
“Well, you’ve certainly held out a little longer than I expected,” she said. “But I still have a lot of paint left.”
I groaned. “I never knew you were this mean.”
“Mean? Oh, I’m not mean. In fact, I might be very nice to you… if you tell me what I want.” Feth looked my body over with a thoughtful expression. “Let’s see,” she said, chewing on the end of the brush’s handle. “I really liked the reaction I was getting from you just a few moments ago, so I think I’ll try a little more of that…”
She began swirling the tip of the brush in my naval again, but this time, she was a little more playful, letting the delicate tip of the brush tickle me until I was shrieking and thrashing. She would then stop, pausing for a few moments, just enough for me to start settling down before resuming her treatment. “Tell me where Angie is,” she said over and over again in a calm, almost sweet voice as she swirled the brush in my naval. “Tell me and I’ll stop…” Through my laughter I screamed that I didn’t know, but I was rapidly losing my will to resist. All the misgivings I felt about betraying my friends were melting under the relentless tickling…
Suddenly, the brush left my belly button and traveled down my lower abdomen, sliding its tickly way into the highly sensitive area between my legs, where thigh met torso. It flicked up and down there, very gently… and I leaped off the bed, screaming so loud I thought I could have been heard for miles. And that broke me. “I’ll t-t-talk!” I shrieked. “I’ll t-t-talk!”
Feth stopped. Leaning over me, she smiled as I lay there, gasping and trembling. “I knew you’d come around,” she said. “Now, where are your friends hiding Angie?”
I told Feth what I knew: Angie was hiding in an abandoned farmhouse far off the main roads, one of several safe houses usually used for whenever one of our group had to hide away for a little while. I told her where it was and gave her directions. There were more questions — the layout of the house and the surrounding countryside, how many girls were typically there with her and who they might be, possible lookouts — and I told her everything. Whenever I paused too long or appeared to reconsider, Feth prodded my memory with a stroke or two of the brush.
“And are you sure you’re telling me the truth?” Feth said with a flick of the brush. “How can I be sure you’re not leading me into a trap?”
“Feth! It’s the truth! I swear… Ahh-hah-hah-hah-hah!”
“After all, you lied to me before,” she said idily. “You said you weren’t ticklish, for one. And then you swore you didn’t know…”
Shrieking with laughter, I babbled that I was telling the truth, begging her to believe me. At some point, she seemed satisfied with my answers and finally stopped. She got off the bed and went to put the brush away, and then came back to sit beside me once more, looking me up and down as I lay there, shivering and catching my breath. I tugged at my bonds, glancing up at the cords tying my wrists to the bed posts. “I thought you were going to let me go,” I said.
“I did say that, didn’t I?” she said, smiling at me but still making no move to free me.
“Well, what are you waiting for? I told you what you wanted to know…”
“Yes, you did.”
“So what now? More torture?”
“The idea is appealing…” She slid a hand across my stomach. “I’ve had a great time with you as my plaything…”
“Please, Feth, no more… I told you everything… You said…”
“Uh-huh… And I also hinted that I might be nice to you if you told me what I wanted to know.”
I caught my breath. As excruciating as the torture had been, I was incredibly aroused.
“Do you like that idea?” she asked.
I croaked out a yes, and she laughed as she took me in her hand, steadily stroking me as I groaned. “I’m not so mean, am I?” It wasn’t long before I came, screaming, and lost consciousness again…
Part 2 right here.
I figure it’s time to start sharing.
Over the years, I’ve amassed a library of tickling stories I’ve written. They take place in a fantasy world populated by beautiful, ticklish, and usually scantily clad women. In this fantasy world, pretty much everything revolves around tickling and sensuality. Sometimes, like in the story below, there’s a male narrator. How did he get there? I don’t know. It’s a fantasy. Once upon a time I think I made up a typically goofy sci-fi explanation, like he was “trapped” in a virtual reality machine, or in another dimension, or something. So, if you need a reason, you can have that one. In this story, and in a few others, he’s a country peasant living in the remote parish of a kingdom.
Of course, the literal among us might have a few questions. If almost everything involves tickling, and they never get tired of it, and they’re always turned-on, why would they want to do anything else? If everything involves tickling, why are they surprised when they’re tickled? Why do they say things like “what are you going to do to me?” when they’re tied spread-eagled and naked to a rack and their captor pulls out a feather? Where do they get their food and clothes? Who builds the houses, huts, and palaces they live in? Why do they wear bras…
I don’t know. It’s all a fantasy. (and why do they wear bras? Because there are few things hotter than a beautiful, curvy woman wearing nothing but a bra and shorts).
So, I probably don’t need to go on like this. After all, writers like Kunzite, ticklemantis, TQLR, Grolsche, Jaynin, and many, many others I could name, are all (I gather) very popular, and since many of their stories feature lusty, voluptuous beauties tickled into orgasm and no one seems to have a problem with them, I probably don’t need to explain myself so much. But it occurred to me that I originally wrote all these stories without intending to share them with anyone. I got kind of self-conscious, and thought I needed to give them some context.
Part of the scenario was inspired by a story called “Tickle Wars” (I think) that I read in Penthouse Variations a long, long time ago. Those of a certain age might remember it. I haven’t read it in decades.
But I’ve gone on…
Without further ado, here’s part 1 of “Night of the Blondes.”
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Night of the Blondes
Part 1
Late afternoon had just crossed the point where it becomes early evening, the sinking sun spreading its glow across the wheat fields of the parish, and I was skimming down the narrow dirt road on my scooter, headed home after an afternoon spent apple-picking. I was in a good mood, and not just because of the dozen or so ripe apples filling the small, burlap sack in one of the scooter’s side storage compartments. The orchard where I had spent the afternoon was sort of out-of-the-way — untended and isolated, it didn’t belong to any of the farmers or landladies in the area; I had visited there many times before, and it always yielded a good harvest. Today, though, it had yielded another kind of bounty in the shapely form of a tallish beauty with long dark brown hair named Abby, or “big Abby” as the other girls in the parish sometimes called her.
One of the dangers of going out to such a secluded spot by yourself was that you might get jumped by a peasant woman — or even a group of them — out to liven up their workday with a little fun. Luckily for me, Abby was alone — if she had had a companion with her, things might have turned out differently. She attacked me first, creeping up behind me while I was engaged and pouncing on me. She was pretty strong, and had surprise on her side, but I fought like crazy. We tussled on the ground and I was able to gain the upper hand. It took a lot of effort on my part, but I was able to tie her to a tree, wrists bound to the trunk behind her back.
I didn’t know Abby very well — the peasants in the parish typically banded together in loose groups or gangs for protection, and sometimes alliances formed between groups, leading to a pretty wide circle of acquaintances. Abby didn’t belong to my little group, or any group I really knew, but I had seen her around, and I had always wanted to get my hands on her. I stripped off her shirt and bra, leaving her in just skin-tight jeans, and tickled the hell out of her for a long time before I finally gave her some relief. When our fun was over I untied her. She was still laying on the ground unconscious and giggling softly in her sleep when I headed home.
But of course my fun with Abby had put me in the mood for more fun, and I was thinking of paying a visit tonight to a strawberry blonde named Loober who owed me a favor when I rounded a bend and, up ahead, spotted a lone peasant woman standing by the side of the road. Her hands were on her hips, and she was looking at a length of fence that bordered a cornfield. She saw me, and waved her arms for me to stop.
This woman I knew pretty well. Her name was Feth, and she was a tall, athletic-looking woman with short, straight sandy-blonde hair. She wasn’t one of my group, but some of the girls in my circle of friends were friendly with some of the girls in her circle of friends, so we knew each other, and I didn’t find it all that unusual that she would want to stop and chat if she saw me out and about.
I pulled to a stop a few yards away, and she gave me a friendly greeting. She was very cute, with a dusting of very light freckles across her cheeks, and today she was looking particularly fetching, clad in a black, short sleeved form fitting top and tight jeans that emphasized her slim, athletic physique — the gentle curve of her long hips; her trim waist and tight stomach; and firm, round breasts that weren’t particularly large but easily more than a handful.
“Thank goodness you came along,” she said. “Could you help me out? I’ve been trying to fix this fence by myself, but it looks like it’s a two-person job. Can you give me a hand? Please? It won’t take very long, and there’s a fresh pitcher of cool lemonade waiting up at the house when we’re finished…”
I was off the scooter before she had even finished her request. We spent about twenty minutes wresting the beam into place and securing it, and though it didn’t take all that long, we were both pretty sweaty by the time Feth pronounced it done. “You look like you could use a drink,” Feth said, wiping her brow. “So could I. Come on.”
Pushing the scooter, I followed Feth down the short lane through the corn stalks to her house, watching her shapely jean-clad buns roll as she walked. “You can leave your scooter out here,” Feth said once we reached her yard. “It’s safe. Come on in after you’re done freshening up.” She pointed to a water pump a few yards away. I was grateful for the opportunity to clean some of the sweat and dust off me, and then went in to join Feth.
Her house was a simple farm house, not much different from most of the houses in the area. Feth was standing by the table drinking a tall cup of lemonade. She held one out for me. “Well, thanks again for helping me,” she said as I took a big gulp. “I’ve been working all day. I knew I had to fix that fence, but just kept putting it off. I thought it would be too much for me to handle by myself, and… it turns out I was right.” She laughed. “I’ll bet you’ve been pretty busy today, too,” she said.
I told her a little about my day — leaving out the part about Abby, of course — and we chatted for a minute or two. Nothing really seemed “off” to me until I raised my head and the whole room seemed to go out of focus. I felt dizzy, and put my hand on the table to steady myself. “Are you feeling okay?” Feth asked.
“I jushtt…” I couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“Probably too much sun,” Feth said. “Here, sit down…”
But I somehow missed the chair and crashed to the floor. As I lay on my back, the room spinning around me in a blur, the last thing I saw was Feth’s grinning face hovering over me, growing rapidly fuzzier until everything faded to black…
I woke to find myself in a small, dimly lit bedroom. I was lying on a bed, my arms bound together over my head to the bed stand behind me. My ankles were fastened to the bars at the other end, slightly parted. I was totally naked, and instantly aware of what had happened — Feth had slipped something in the lemonade. I tugged at the ropes that bound me, but only succeeded in rattling the bed frame.
The door opened. “I thought I heard you fussing around in here,” Feth said, smiling at me as she closed the door behind her. “I’m glad you’re awake. Did you have a nice nap?”
“You tricked me.”
Feth sat on the edge of the bed, the inner swell of one breast rising up past the hem of her neckline as she leaned over me. “Yes I did. And it wasn’t too tough, either. The oldest trick in the book and you totally fell for it.”
“But you said you needed help…”
Feth laughed. “Oh, don’t act so innocent. You were just helping me out of the goodness of your heart, right? Hmmm, I wonder what Abby would say about your brand of kindness?”
She saw the surprise on my face. “That’s right. I saw you this afternoon,” she said. “You certainly gave ‘big Abby’ a dose of her own medicine. I swear I could hear her cackling from a mile away.”
“You were spying on me?”
“Not really. I just happened to see you and knew you’d be coming my way once you had your fun. I saw an opportunity, and took advantage of it.”
“An opportunity? For what? What do you want?”
“The hardest part was dragging you in here,” Feth went on. “This is my guest room. Do you like it?”
“You have a funny way of treating your guests,” I said, tugging on the ropes. “How long was I out?”
“Not long. Maybe an hour.” Feth got up and went to the side of the room. She dragged a small, low table from against the wall over to the side of the bed and sat down again, her back towards me. There were some small items on the table, but I couldn’t make them out; Feth’s back blocked my view as she leaned over the table fussing with whatever was on there.
“You still haven’t told me what you want,” I said.
Feth smiled at me over her shoulder. “Who said I want anything?” she said. “What did you ‘want’ from Abby this afternoon?”
“Abby? What do you care about Abby?”
“You’re right, I don’t,” she laughed. “I’m just teasing you.” She scooted a few inches up the bed and leaned towards me again, but this time I noticed she was holding a small brush in one hand, its fine tip coated with gold paint. “The truth is, I still need your help. Like I said, I’m doing a little redecorating, and I was thinking of re-painting this room. I thought you’d like to help me try out a few color schemes.” She lowered the brush towards my left nipple, pausing less than half an inch away.
I tried not to let the panic I was feeling seep into my voice. “If you’re trying to tickle me, it won’t work,” I said. “I’m not ticklish there.”
“Well, good. This shouldn’t be a problem then…”
I clamped my mouth shut and tried not to flinch as Feth traced a small star around my left nipple. She colored it in using little brisk dabs; it took all my effort to remain still and suppress the laughter I felt welling up inside me. I was fairly trembling when she finally stopped and leaned back to look at her work. “See?” I said, trying not to gasp. “That doesn’t work on me.”
“I still have the other one to do,” she said, dipping the brush in one of the jars on the small table before turning back to me. “You’ve done a good job holding still so far.”
I tensed, holding my breath as she went to work. But I broke into giggles before she even finished tracing the outline of the second star, thrashing in the bonds and begging her to stop. She ignored my pleas, concentrating on her work while a little distracted smile played on her lips. “You lied to me,” she said once she had stopped and I lay there trying to regain my composure. “You told me you weren’t ticklish there. But look! All your jerking around made me mess up my star. I’m going to have to start over…”
With a look of intense concentration, she once again lowered the brush to my right nipple. “Feth, no…!” I cried, staring at the tip of the brush as it came closer.
“Now try to stay still,” she said. “You wouldn’t want me to have to do it again, would you?”
My hands balled into fists and I snorted back a burst of laughter as she slowly began to draw the star again. I tried not to squirm, but the feeling of that fine tip flicking across this most sensitive area was excruciating, and I couldn’t help but twist and twitch, the giggles pouring out of me, becoming slightly more hysterical with every moment she spent with that brush.
“There, that’s much better,” she said when she was done. “Now what next? Blue, I think…” She picked up a new instrument, this one a little larger, with a wide flat brush on the end. “No, Feth, don’t… Eeee-hee-hee-hee!” She ran it down my upper arm, from my elbow to my armpit, covering the skin with long, slow strokes over and over again. I was laughing hysterically, yanking on the cords and trying to twist away. “F-f-f-etthhh! Stop! Ahahahaha!” She leaned over me to give my other arm the same treatment, a position that would have given me a fantastic view of her cleavage if I wasn’t laughing so hard. “Aahahaha! No-hoo-hoo-hoo! Waahaa-haahaha!”
My head rolled from side to side as I laughed helplessly, She switched back and forth between my arm pits, keeping me thrashing and howling, my arms straining against their bonds as I tried desperately to find relief from that terrible brush.
“There,” she said, at last lifting the brush. “That’s a nice color…”
My chest heaved. “Feth, no more, please…”
Feth picked up a smaller brush and started on my arms again. I vowed that this time I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of laughing, clamping my mouth shut and steeling myself against the sensation. But as the brush slowly traveled from my elbows down along my biceps, stroking the skin there, taking its sweet time before it reached my armpits, a small snicker escaped my lips. I shuddered, then jerked, biting my lower lip as the bristles flicked across my underarm. The tickling seemed to build, becoming harder to bear with every little stroke. “F-f-f-eth… st-st-stopp…” I managed to gasp.
My captor merely smiled, intent on her work. The brush left my armpit and flicked down my side, its pace slow and assured. My body shook with suppressed laughter. “Feth… hahaha… no-ho-hoo…” I lost it completely when she reached my waist, completely abandoning myself to laughter. It took me several moments to recover when she finally stopped. “No more, Feth,” I gasped. “No more. Please. I can’t take it.”
Feth merely smiled as she turned back to me with a new paint-coated brush. I pulled frantically at the cords. “No more, please! I’ll do whatever you want!”
Feth drew the brush across my heaving ribs. Though it didn’t tickle as intensely as before, I still struggled and pleaded with her to stop. “Actually,” Feth said as she painted. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Wh-what?”
“There’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
“You can ask we whatever you want! Just stop!”
But Feth didn’t stop until she had thoroughly coated my ribs and left me trembling and gasping. She turned back to the side table, cleaning the brush in a small jar of water and drying it off. “I want to know where Angie is.”
“Wh-who?”
“ ‘Wh-hoo?’” she mocked. “Don’t play coy with me. You know exactly who I’m talking about.”
I did know what she was talking about. Angie was a peasant woman in the area, and a real beauty — tall, blonde, broad-shouldered and large-breasted, with long legs, big lips and creamy skin. On top of that, there was something almost innocent about her. She liked her fun, of course, but overall she was a real sweetheart, and hardly seemed to have a devious bone in her incredible body. But she had caught the eye of Raquel, a red-haired bounty hunter for Queens Dolly and Fancy whose job it was to track down country girls who hadn’t paid their taxes. Angie had not been the target of her search — like I said, Angie usually played by the rules and kept herself out of trouble — but Raquel saw her when she was after someone else. Later, she had kidnapped Angie and tortured the blonde peasant in a secret hideout deep in the forest. But Angie had escaped before Raquel was finished with her, and to our surprise proved a little more wicked that any of us had previously imagined. She knew Raquel would come after her, so she set a trap, capturing the cruel bounty hunter and tickling her silly before giving her to one of the bands of outlaws hiding in the remote wooded hills of the kingdom. Since then, Angie had gone into hiding, and Dolly and Fancy’s police had been scouring the countryside for her.
“Well, yeah, everybody knows about Angie…”
“Then you know there’s a big reward for her capture,” Feth said. “I intend to get it.”
“But I don’t know where Angie is,” I said.
Feth let out a peal of laughter. “I know she’s a part of your little circle of friends,” she said, leaning over me with another brush in her hand. “She goes around with Molly and Mary and those other girls. I know you must be hiding her somewhere. Now tell me where she is.”
The nagging anxiety I had started to feel the moment she mentioned Angie blossomed into a very real fear. Because Feth was right: I knew exactly where Angie was hiding. Worse yet, Feth knew I knew, and was intent on getting it out of me.
“But Feth, I swear I don’t know,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s true, she’s friends with those women, but none of us know where she is.”
Feth sighed. “Well, okay, if that’s the way you want to do this…”
I pulled at the bindings. “Please, Feth, I can’t tell you what I don’t know, no matter how much you torture me. It’s a waste of time.”
“Oh, I’d hardly call it a waste of time,” Feth said. “I’m thoroughly enjoying myself. I’d call it a good time. I’d call it a wonderful way to spend an evening. But most of all, I’d call it a guaranteed way to get the information I want.”
She began swirling the brush across my stomach, making slow, lazy circles and loops which had me squirming and sputtering as I fought to hold back laughter. “”F-f-f-e-th-th… ahh… no-ho-ho… staha-ha-happ… ahahahaha!”
“Just tell me where Angie is and I’ll stop,” she said.
“Ahhh-haa-haa-haa-haa! Wwaa-haa-haa-haa!”
Feth took her time, never altering her pace while I screamed and writhed underneath the brush, the bristles coating every inch of my quivering belly with paint. When she was done, I lay there giggling as she fiddled with her tray of brushes and paints. “You’ve got to believe me, Feth! I don’t know anything…” My words were cut off as Feth, a new brush in her hand, began painting my right thigh. I immediately burst into giggles, fighting to close my legs as the bristles stroked their way down the length of my thigh to my knee and then back up again, each up-and-down journey bringing the brush a little closer to my sensitive inner thigh.
“How long do you think you can endure this?” Feth said. “I’ve just shown you a taste of what I can do so far, and already you’re half-hysterical. And there’s so much of you that I haven’t even touched yet. There’s the bottoms of your feet, your other thigh…”
“Noo-hoo-hoo! Sta-ha-ha-happ! Eee-hee-hee!”
“But I’m not going to stop. I’m going to paint every inch of you, and when I’m done, I’ll start all over again. And I’ll only stop when you tell me where your friends are hiding Angie.”
The brush began stroking my inner thigh and I let out a high-pitched peal of laughter. Feth merely grinned down at me as I struggled and screamed, my pleas for mercy devolving into gibberish as she tickled and tickled and tickled my thighs with her brush.
“I have to say, I’m touched by the loyalty you’ve shown to your friends,” she said when she removed the brush. “Do you think they would do the same for you? What if I had, say, Molly all tied up? How much tickling do you think that buxom body could take before she gave you away? Or Bridget? Or Loober?”
She held up another brush, this one the smallest yet, with a super-fine tip coated in yellow. I stared at it, my tickle-wracked body already quivering in anticipation. Feth waved the brush back and forth, grinning as she saw my eyes follow it. “Hmmm, this one seems to have caught your attention,” she said. “What do you think I’m going to do with it?”
I whimpered.
“Not even a guess?” she said. “Okay, I’ll just get right to it…” Still grinning at me, Feth twirled the soft, pointed tip of the brush in my naval.
"HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!" I screamed, my naked body arching off the bed. "Pleee-hee-hee-heeeessse!”
"Oooo, I think I found a spot…”
I bellowed with laughter as she continued twirling the brush. "Aaaa-hahahahaha! Oh-no-hohoho!”
"Do you want me to stop?” Feth said, withdrawing the brush from my belly button and lightly swirling it back and forth across my heaving stomach. "You know what you have to do. Just tell me where Angie is hiding and I’ll stop this terrible torture.”
“I don’t know,” I gasped. “I swear, Feth! You have to believe me! Haven’t you tortured me enough?”
“Well, you’ve certainly held out a little longer than I expected,” she said. “But I still have a lot of paint left.”
I groaned. “I never knew you were this mean.”
“Mean? Oh, I’m not mean. In fact, I might be very nice to you… if you tell me what I want.” Feth looked my body over with a thoughtful expression. “Let’s see,” she said, chewing on the end of the brush’s handle. “I really liked the reaction I was getting from you just a few moments ago, so I think I’ll try a little more of that…”
She began swirling the tip of the brush in my naval again, but this time, she was a little more playful, letting the delicate tip of the brush tickle me until I was shrieking and thrashing. She would then stop, pausing for a few moments, just enough for me to start settling down before resuming her treatment. “Tell me where Angie is,” she said over and over again in a calm, almost sweet voice as she swirled the brush in my naval. “Tell me and I’ll stop…” Through my laughter I screamed that I didn’t know, but I was rapidly losing my will to resist. All the misgivings I felt about betraying my friends were melting under the relentless tickling…
Suddenly, the brush left my belly button and traveled down my lower abdomen, sliding its tickly way into the highly sensitive area between my legs, where thigh met torso. It flicked up and down there, very gently… and I leaped off the bed, screaming so loud I thought I could have been heard for miles. And that broke me. “I’ll t-t-talk!” I shrieked. “I’ll t-t-talk!”
Feth stopped. Leaning over me, she smiled as I lay there, gasping and trembling. “I knew you’d come around,” she said. “Now, where are your friends hiding Angie?”
I told Feth what I knew: Angie was hiding in an abandoned farmhouse far off the main roads, one of several safe houses usually used for whenever one of our group had to hide away for a little while. I told her where it was and gave her directions. There were more questions — the layout of the house and the surrounding countryside, how many girls were typically there with her and who they might be, possible lookouts — and I told her everything. Whenever I paused too long or appeared to reconsider, Feth prodded my memory with a stroke or two of the brush.
“And are you sure you’re telling me the truth?” Feth said with a flick of the brush. “How can I be sure you’re not leading me into a trap?”
“Feth! It’s the truth! I swear… Ahh-hah-hah-hah-hah!”
“After all, you lied to me before,” she said idily. “You said you weren’t ticklish, for one. And then you swore you didn’t know…”
Shrieking with laughter, I babbled that I was telling the truth, begging her to believe me. At some point, she seemed satisfied with my answers and finally stopped. She got off the bed and went to put the brush away, and then came back to sit beside me once more, looking me up and down as I lay there, shivering and catching my breath. I tugged at my bonds, glancing up at the cords tying my wrists to the bed posts. “I thought you were going to let me go,” I said.
“I did say that, didn’t I?” she said, smiling at me but still making no move to free me.
“Well, what are you waiting for? I told you what you wanted to know…”
“Yes, you did.”
“So what now? More torture?”
“The idea is appealing…” She slid a hand across my stomach. “I’ve had a great time with you as my plaything…”
“Please, Feth, no more… I told you everything… You said…”
“Uh-huh… And I also hinted that I might be nice to you if you told me what I wanted to know.”
I caught my breath. As excruciating as the torture had been, I was incredibly aroused.
“Do you like that idea?” she asked.
I croaked out a yes, and she laughed as she took me in her hand, steadily stroking me as I groaned. “I’m not so mean, am I?” It wasn’t long before I came, screaming, and lost consciousness again…
Part 2 right here.
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