Is this the story you mean?
Pixies
(a recurrent fantasy)
by: ramos
Why am I here? I am simply an innocent traveller who incurred the wrath of some
peasant village women by showing favor to one of their fair maidens. Surely, I
meant no harm by my guileless flirtations, but these women did not see it in
the same way. They accosted me (they were strong country folk, and they
outnumbered me) and brought me deep into these woods, making it clear that the
only appropriate punishment for a licentious outsider such as myself would be
to leave me to whims of the pixie women. Now, being a townsman and having been
raised in more enlightened circumstances, I should have scoffed. But I
remembered hearing tell of the forest pixies as a child, remembered stories of
unsuspecting travellers being captured and driven insane by these miniature
maidens. Exactly how the pixies drove their victims mad had been left to my
youthful imaginings, and as I was dragged into the woods by these leering,
vindictive peasant women, I found myself wondering if the pixie stories of my
childhood might actually be true and guessing at what sorts of magic spells and
the like might await me.
I now sit here, abandoned by the village women after having been bound to the
base of a large tree in the middle of the dark forest. My back is pressed
against the smooth bark, my arms have been pulled behind me, my wrists tied to
each other on the opposite side of the tree. My legs are stretched out before
me. The ropes that bind my knees and ankles together are tied to stakes that
are very deeply driven into the soil. A wide strap of hide has been placed
around my forehead and around the tree's trunk, where the ends are tied
together on the other side, so that in addition to my entire body having been
rendered completely immobile, I can not even move my head from side to side.
The village women have left me completely clothed, except that they have made
certain to leave me barefoot; I vaguely recall one of the ladies snickering
about how soft my feet were, and so I suppose I have been left this way to
discourage me from wandering off in case I manage to free myself.
I busy myself with attempting to worry loose the knots at my wrists when the
first of the pixies arrives, a tiny maiden with light, golden hair streaming
about her tiny shoulders, about four inches in height, perfectly nude, fair of
face and body, with silvery, translucent wings which are nearly as tall as she.
She lands on my thigh, rests her tiny fists on her naked hips, and regards me
with an approving smirk.
Two others, and then three more, arrive now, landing on my legs. They are
identical to the first. They speak to each other. Their voices are so light in
volume that I can not hear them, but it is obvious that they are agreeing with
each other that I am quite a prize.
The last of these identical pixie girls arrives and hovers around my face, her
little, humming wings almost invisible in their quickness. She carries with her
a brownish grey wren's feather. It is only an inch or so in length and a
half-inch in width, yet she brandishes it in her delicate little hands like a
sword. Hovering in front of my face, she extends the feather toward me and
flicks its tip back and forth across the tip of my nose. It tickles
maddeningly, and I twitch my nose.
My response elicits an eruption of gleeful giggling from the other pixies, and
as the one before my face continues to tickle my nose with the feather, I
realize with sudden panic that the others are now flying directly toward my
sensitive bare feet!
Two pixies land on the straps around my ankles, lean forward, and begin to
lovingly caress the tops of my feet with the soft palms of their tiny hands.
The other four congregate at my bare soles, lightly scratching long lines along
my arches and heels with their tiny fingernails. The maiden who has been
tickling my nose now joins her friends at my feet, brushing underneath my
wiggling toes with her feather. Immobile as I am, all I can do is helplessly
laugh at the top of my lungs. The two on my ankles now begin to trace the tops
of my feet with long licks from their tiny tongues. The five at my soles become
more frantic with their tickling, quickly searching every crease of my bare
soles with tiny, probing fingernails.
The one with the feather now flutters toward my crotch, undoing my trousers and
revealing my manhood, which has become erect and swollen with longing, and she
begins to run the edges of her feather up and down the sides of my shaft with
long, merciless strokes. I am frantic with lust and high-pitched shrieks of
laughter as my cock and my feet are tickled and tickled. The pixie at my cock
flutters her silver wings and hovers over the glans, which is now red with
anticipation, and quickly flicks the feather's tip across the head of my penis,
over and over, tickling and tickling. The girls at my feet are now biting and
scratching in earnest, tickling and tickling every bit of bare skin they can
find. The torturous tickling of my feet is unnerving, drawing from me endless
bouts of uncontrolled laughter, while the incessant tickling of the head of my
cock is enough to drive me wild with lust, yet not enough to bring me to
climax. I scream with laughter for mercy, and the tickling goes on and on . . .
. . . and then suddenly stops. Through the drying tears in my eyes, I see that
the blond haired pixies have abandoned me to greet another pixie girl that has
just arrived, identical in every way to the tiny maidens that have tortured me
for hours, except for her raven hair. The pixie who had taken such delight in
teasing my manhood hands her feather to the dark haired fairy, turns to me and
waves good-bye. She and her golden haired sisters depart, their giggling
quickly fading as they disappear into the woods.
I am left alone with the raven haired pixie and her feather, but not for long,
for other dark haired pixies soon arrive, hovering around me, giggling. The
panic wells within me as I realize that . . .
. . . now it is their turn!
