Twilight of the Wer-Tickler (m/f, feet, breasts)

Twilight of the Wer-Tickler (m/f, feet, breasts)

For context, I am in my office for the final night. Ahh, it was a good run but there's not much need for detective work in a quaint little town after all. If it's something the police can't handle or if it's discreet, sure, but let's be honest: over the years I've more or less served as a professional stalker nine cases out of ten, granted with some, ah, hilarious results. Well, most of my cases ended up as just rumor and gossip, but, well, you know. Recollections, is all. I enjoyed pouring over them now and again, here and there and all of that, but unless there is some elaborate set of circumstances, this should be the final one.

As I began, and then got off track, there isn't much of a need for a business such as mine. Of course, my behavior of late has been, ah, not the most savory, I suppose. No, I suppose I should be truthful with myself here. Scratch the previous paragraph when you get a chance, Trace. And this one, obviously.

For context, I am in my office for the final night. While there isn't much of a need for my skills and services here, I've sort of – hah – run my business into the ground with my... obsessions. Addictions, as one called it. I absolutely cannot handle leaving a case open and so I went to great lengths to find the wer-tickler. Great lengths. I never hurt anyone, so much, but, well. I went places I shouldn't have been and was, ah, rougher with certain people, namely the council, but damnit, they know, and I know they know. I don't understand the connection fully, so I won't say anymore.

Oh, to hell with it.

Around the same time as the first attack, maybe a month prior, a new person joined the council and I'll be damned if I can find any history about him. I've followed him a few times but only as far as the woods. There shouldn't be anything out there, but I went down the path a few days later and found an abandoned shed. Crept around there a bit, and--

And there is someone at my door for some god forsaken reason.

Note: several days have passed since the last passage and the following one.

Ok. I know this started out as something to close a potential book, if I ever cobbled it together, and then I started complaining about why my business went under, I get that. Truthfully, I don't think I should edit those things away; at least I'll leave them there for now and if I decide to adjust it later, I will.

Well, one thing at a time, and I suppose I should start from where I left off: a stranger rapping at my door, despite the sign that said closed and the boxes of trash outside. Half the town knew I was shutting down the business and the other half, well they probably knew as well and they were probably glad. You make a name for yourself in my business, like it or not. It was more than a surprise that anyone came, so I drew my pistol from the top shelf and ducked behind my desk, saying come in with a meek voice.

The door knob janked and rattled as it twisted open. Ah, I had been meaning to fix that knob, but it doesn't matter so much now. It creaked open and I peered over my desk, watching as a checkered figure shyly crept in. I sighed and thrust the pistol back into the shelf before I shot up, crossing my arms and tapping my foot as he sheepishly came in, his head bent forward as he rubbed at the back of his neck. It was him. Him. Of all people, him.

That man.

One of his hands was behind his back. Raising the other and pointing to the ceiling, he opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, scratching at his cheek. Half pointing towards me, he opened his mouth again, stalled there, then shook his head and said "Sorry, this was a mistake." He turned around, whipping his hands away from my sight as he went out the door and shut it.

Angry is certainly a word. Smoldering is another. I was visibly shaking as I stomped to the door and threw it open, the glass shattering as the door slammed into the wall. He spun around, his jaw dropping his mouth into a gaping hole as he stepped backwards, waving a hand. Grabbing him by the collar, I spun around and dragged him back into my office, thrusting him forward as I pulled the door shut. He turned around and began stammering a series of apologies at me as I whipped a key from my pocket, his eyes fixated upon it. Spinning around, I twisted the thing into the knob, clicking it locked before I stomped towards my desk again. As I passed I shoved his shoulders down and forced him into a seat. When he collapsed he dropped a pair of heels – my heels, from that night! Scooping them up, I swept behind my desk and sat down, setting my elbows onto the table, lacing my fingers into a basket to hold my chin.

Oh, you can believe we talked. I let him prattle on at first, stammering out a further series of apologies: for the first night and the other night, for the council's behavior, for following me – I'm sure he meant stalk – and for a great number of things that I'm not sure were related at all. Apologizing for the moon I sort of understand, but there were so many other things like the weather, the time of day, not showing up and then showing up at all, taking the bus, not going to church often enough, going to church too often and, ahh the list goes on. Really, he must have rattled off a hundred things in 60 seconds, it was exasperating.

I don't really recall his expressions so much because after a point I was rubbing my eyes and pinching at the bridge of my nose to suppress the headache he was giving me. I eventually told him to shut up, smacking my hands onto my desk as I did so. Raising both hands, I tucked my fingers in and pointed my index fingers at an angle while staring him in the eyes, asking him why he came. He said he felt responsible for this, that he knew I was looking for him and that I put that over my actual work. Rubbing at my forehead as he began prattling off another list of things he was sorry for, I wrapped my hair behind my ear, smoothing the strands as he went on and on before I cut him off with an "Alright, alright!"

He pressed his hands together in front of his mouth, his middle fingers just touching the tip of his nose, his pointed little eyes trembling. Sitting back, I crossed my arms – a defensive position I shouldn't have taken given my end goals, but he was making me angry – and tilted my head, looking at him with a single eye. "Why do you think I've been hunting you down?" He quivered and scratched at his neck while looking at the floor. A blanket of fear crossed his face as he began rubbing at an eyebrow, his hand shaking while sweat glistened against his forehead. Pressing my hands into a triangle in front of my face, I closed my eyes and rubbed at my nose while kicking at the top of one shoe with the bottom of my heel. Repeating the process, I let my shoes dangle on the tips of my feet as he bent forward and began to spit out a mess of sound.

Leaning back, I whipped my legs upward, dropping them at the corner of my table, the soles of my swinging shoes facing away from him. At once he froze, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up as his lips pursed together, creases forming around his eyes as they stiffened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the hair on his arm twitch. Throwing my hands behind my neck, my elbows shooting upwards, I began pulling my hair back into a makeshift pony tail as I watched the man like a raven. For several grueling seconds the clock behind me doled out chimes commemorating its ghastly shift as I sat there, watching his chest rise and fall. Crossing my ankles, I wiggled my toes and flicked my foot, letting the shoe further away from him tumble through the air. He winced at the clutter the sneaker made when it rattled against the floor. Shadows etched their way down his arm and a glint of sunlight sparkled on the doorknob.

For a moment I stared before drawing my left thumb to my mouth, flicking at a tooth as I waited. Rubbing the back of my nail against the sharp point of my incisor, I withdrew my hand, biting the inside of my lower lip as I pressed my hand over my mouth, my thumb fingering the boundary of my cheek and jawline. Clenching the toes of my other foot, I allowed that shoe to abandon its post, flicking my free foot back and forth and spreading my toes beneath the black sock, the fabric stretching tightly enough that I could see flesh between the strands. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, raising a hand and flicking at his nose before muttering "Why are you doing this?"

Raising an eyebrow, I looked at him as I opened my mouth again, tapping my nail against the bottom of my right front tooth. Opening my mouth, I breathed in and spoke, "Do--" before tilting my head and digging at my incisor twice. Trying again, I spit out, "Do you not like my feet?"

He groaned, falling into his chair as he rested his head on the back, closing his eyes. With thick, poisonous emphasis on the first word, he responded, "he does."

Pressing my lips together, I exhaled exasperation through my nose while picking at the end of my lower lip. "And you?"

Turning away, he leaned on the arm rest of his chair, propping his head into his hand as his lips compressed and crashed to the other side of his face. "It's not normal."

Throwing my head back, I rolled my eyes and bellowed out an annoyed sigh. Staring at the stained ceiling – water damage years ago – I let out a raspy "And?"

Pushing his left hand to his neck, he began scratching at it with his index finger. Opening his mouth to speak, he clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth then sucked in his lips, his eyes narrowing. Twirling a finger against his short-cropped hair, he sighed and muttered "Just put them away, please."

Coughing lightly with indignation, I leaned back and threw my arms behind my head again, tapping my raised ankle against the one that held it. "No. It's my office."

Biting his lip, he looked away then nodded, shimmying back into his seat before standing up and turning around. Whipping my feet to the floor, I scurried up to him as he reached for the knob. Grabbing his shoulders, I pulled him backwards as he stumbled to face me, falling into me and knocking us both to the ground with him landing on top of me. Immediately pushing himself up, he rose, extending a hand as he scratched at the back of his neck and bowed, apologizing profusely. Reaching with both arms, I grabbed his hand and wrist and fell back, attempting to pull him down. He groaned, instead grasping my arm and tugging me to my feet, my knees shaking unexpectedly, leaving me to fall against the peeling wallpaper. Rushing forward, I grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall. Turning my head, I pushed him forward and released him, furiously sliding across the floor and back to my seat.

"Listen, I get it." Turning, I pointed at him as I lowered myself to my seat. "I get you." Landing gently, I brushed my jeans at their thighs as I lifted my legs again, placing my feet at the center of my table, near the edge. "I get it," I said again as I cracked open my lowest shelf, brushing aside a series of disorganized papers and folders, knocking them to the side of the drawer, revealing several lengths of rope, some cloth, and the bottle of honey that I could never bring myself to discard. Taking them one by one, I set them on the table next to my legs then tilted my head, my eyes narrowing as they met his. "I do, I understand. Even if I tell you about how much I liked it, those nights we spent together, you wouldn't listen, right?"

Opening his mouth, he raised an index finger as I shook my head. "Nononono," I rushed out before he could speak. "Uh-uh. You like this, you enjoy doing this to people. That's fine, there's nothing wrong with it." He shook his head and began to argue but I cut him off, speaking over top of him while shaking my arm, shoving my index finger in his direction, "No, you do. Any fool could see how hard you're suppressing yourself."

Groaning, he pointed his face to the ceiling as he spread his legs and crossed his arms. "This isn't-- it's not--" he began to stammer, tapping his foot.

"Uh uh," I said, gripping the arm rests of my chair tightly, my nails digging into the undersides of the wood. Pulling my left foot back, I began fidgeting at the edge of my right sock, using my toes to tug it away, flicking the crumpled thing at him as I wiggled my now free foot. The hairs on his arm grew in length and his breathing quickened when the cloth impacted against him. Grimacing, he attempted to catch the thing, bopping it back into the air several times before losing it entirely, letting it tumble to the floor. The thing rolled beneath his former chair. With a sigh, he moved towards me, leaned down, picked it up, unfurled it and whipped it in the air so that it lay straight. "You're doing this, you're going to tie me up and tickle me," I said with curt resolution.

Spreading his fingers to the inside of my sock, he shoved it over top of my foot while nodding, saying simply, "No, thank you."

The left end of my lip raised upward as I leaned forward, flicking the sock off and at him a second time. It rebounded off of him harmlessly before bouncing beneath my desk. "Why not?"

Sighing, he crossed his arms and turned around, cocking his head at the wall to my right. Raising his hand, he pinched at the tip of his nose, scratching with his thumb as he opened his mouth, blowing air through his teeth. Turning to face me again, his eyes momentarily bobbed towards my naked foot before meeting my eyes. Crossing his arms again, he rubbed at his elbow, "It's just, I don't like who I become when--"

Groaning loudly, I rolled my head and shouted, "But that's who you are, and I like that and who that person is, the one that takes what he wants."

With closed eyes he shook his head, responding simply, quietly, "I'm sorry, but that...thing isn't me."

Balling my right hand into a fist, I slammed it into my arm rest, "No, it is you. You're both this person, and that one, and you need to accept that if you want any control over that transformation." Stepping backwards, he raised his eyebrows as I rolled my eyes, "Oh come on, you really think this conversation wasn't obvious enough?" Nodding towards the tools I had laid next to my leg, I continued onwards, "Just do it, indulge. I cannot possibly say how much I enjoyed it, how much you taught me about myself."

For several seconds he stared, the clock above me thunking loudly. Closing his eyes, he brushed hair away from his forehead before scratching at his scalp. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience," he finally muttered, his arms falling to his sides as his torso quivered, "But, ah, would you let me, I mean--" Throwing his head upward, he sighed, the twitching in his body stopping as he inhaled and exhaled several times, "Do you mind if I do? If I tickle you?"

Tilting my head, I felt a growl rumble in my throat as he raised a hand, shaking it in a no, "No, no that's not what I mean. I mean, I want to tickle you but—ah, that is, you're so, your feet are so--" he scratched his cheek, "Ah, pretty! That I—I don't want to stop, I don't know if I will." Reaching for a length of rope, he stretched it out, looking it up and down as he picked away a frayed bit of it. "I mean, what I meant was, I want to tickle you until you can't take it anymore, until I break you, destroy you. I just, you're so pretty when you're laughing," he stroked my naked foot then, "I never want to stop."

Laughing loudly – partially because he tickled my foot but mostly at what he said – I reached forward, taking another length of rope as I curled it around my left arm. Angling my head towards him, I glared hotly at him through my bangs, "Bring it on," I said simply before lowering my head, biting at the end of the rope so that I could tie it into a knot with my right hand. He laughed nervously, ringing his hands together while he looked at the wall behind me.

A wicked yellow light flashed in his eyes as he raised his palms to the ceiling, lobbing the rope behind him. "We won't need this," he said, his voice rumbling like a howl. Raising a knee, he cropped onto the desk and leaned forward, balancing himself with his left hand as his right neared my feet. Pushing myself upward, I pressed my soles into the top of my table, my smile reflecting the evil in his eyes. Raising his right hand, he waggled his index finger from side to side, clicking the tongue against the roof of his mouth slowly, solemnly. After the third tut he raised his hand, skirting his bangs backward. Digging his hand into his hair, he gave frigid words, "You're going to raise your feet and hold still while I tickle you."

Gulping, I felt my feet comply to his command while loose, retaliatory words tumbled and became lost within my throat. My calves tightened as his hand neared again, his eyes embracing my own, devouring their will to look away. Again he struck my naked foot, quickly running the tips of his fingers up and down my sole as my toes twinkled with dissatisfaction. Pressing my legs down as hard as I could, I felt the corner of my table nip at the underside of my knees. Looking back, that was the worst part of the whole ordeal: commanding myself to remain still. It somehow made the sensations prickle much more. Clenching my toes, my tongue leapt in my mouth, pressing against my teeth as a windy tsshh parted my smiling lips. At once he glanced at my toes in disapproval then returned his gaze to my eyes, the skin around them hardening like the side of a mountain. Without being told I felt their rebellious disobedience disintegrate away as they returned to their standing position, awaiting their punishment.

His hand fell there, next, at the end of my sole just as it crept up into my toes, his hardened gaze not dissipating. Unwaveringly my foot held position, squirming ever so slightly in meek defiance as it wiggled in place. At first, I cooed, and then began giggling as he ran his hand back and forth very quickly, my toes desperately waving a white flag as they fluttered and fanned his fingers, faintly renouncing his oppression. Suddenly he struck upward, swiping at my toes before his fingers fell down my sole in a wiggling line, scraping around my arch. I felt a tear form at the edges of either eye as my smile crooked upwards. Closing my eyes, I turned away for the briefest of moments.

At once his hand pinched my chin and turned my face back towards his. Leaning in, his nose brushed against mine, his yellow eyes glittering and sparkling like amber. Without letting up on my sole he calmly spoke words glazed with a wispy determination and desperation. "Suffer for me," he said, pressing his forehead against mine. My eyes suddenly felt as though they were held open with tiny claws. Laughing hotly, I felt my lungs smothered by an insatiable heat, my giggling heart fanning forbidden flames. A tightness tugged at my ribs like a sticky film as I silently prayed the inferno would burn me alive.

As he struck my foot, I laughed, alternating between light chuckles and loud, rambunctious guffaws. A divide formed within me as a second, darker version of myself grew within my mind, the two of us gripping our faces and laughing at one another like mad women, one laughing for myself and one for him. I never stopped laughing as he prodded my foot, lapsing between my own selfish suffering and pleasing him, my master. My master, yes, I suppose that was when I began to look at him like that, long before he demanded it.

I felt my soul locked away by my foot, imprisoned by the feelings that he wept into it, my greedy jailor happily throwing away the key as I celebrated his victory. He continued like that for some time, teasing my foot as it grew more and more ferocious, no longer heeding my commands. It began to rampage across the table, finally slamming into the top as it slid backward, the sound of my skin streaking against the wood wavering through my office. He hissed hotly and my foot immediately whimpered back to its rightful place, his hand reclaiming its throne as we smiled and laughed together.

With each touch I chuckled, and each time I did he guffawed loudly, his work intensifying with every exchange. Just as I tightly gripped the rests of my chair he threw his arm around me, pulling me into his shoulder. At once all of my resistance seemed to melt away, my foot relaxing as he threw wave after wave of punishment at it, his hot breath seeping across my shoulder and down my spine. Suddenly I felt a surge of sensation against the sides of my neck. Squealing, I raised my right arm and began to push away, noticing his arms had swooped around my shoulders, his fingers gently waving against my neck like feathers. Gritting my teeth, I shook my head in place, scattering my hair as he chuckled in amusement, his fingers pecking at me at an insatiable rate.

He soon fell back to his original location, and I sat back, huffing hotly, a stream of hair washing across my face as though to keep his gaze from me. Using my free hand, I scattered the awful things away as my left wrist grumbled, a deep pink indent glaring at me from beneath the rope. Smiling, he maneuvered his hands like a swashbuckler, both of them falling against the naked flesh of my foot as I squealed hotly at the ceiling, my gaze remaining one with his.

Running and hiding behind my still clothed foot, he chuckled again, pinching at the toe of the fabric and tugging. Inside of the container my toes curled, gripping at the material while my nude foot flung itself against the back of my other, gripping at it with its toes. A fiendish smile painted my lips; after all, it isn’t any fun to give in entirely. Sliding his hands around my socked foot, he pushed my bare one away as it slapped at his hand. Laughing, he grabbed the back of my naked foot and leaned in, really digging into me. Dashing forward, I screamed loudly as he chastised me for my disorderly behavior. Without relenting against my foot, he began to tug at my sock again as I shimmied within my chair, biting my lip and exposing my front teeth in the process. Even if I wanted it more than anything, I couldn't let him have it, I couldn't give it up willingly.

However, in a fit of passion he collapsed forward, his arm spinning around my ankles and tugging my sock away in a flurry of zeal, my foot unable to overwhelm him or even muster the desire to try. He snickered with a devilish delight as I smiled and cowered within my chair. Using his free hand, he stuck his finger between his collar and neck, running it back and forth as he rolled his head about, spewing fast-acting words. "Beg me,"

Whimpering and smiling broadly, I felt my eyes narrow as I gripped the arm rests of my chair, shaking my head no as the heat within me tumbled and toiled. Leaning in, taking my feet with him, he exhaled like a Seabreeze carrying the threat of a monsoon. "Beg me to tickle you,"

I wanted to fight, to resist, but more than anything I needed it, needed to serve and please him. Gulping, I spoke simply, my voice lilting like an obedient servant's, "Please tickle my feet!" Unable to control my enthusiasm, I leaned away from the back of my chair, pleading over and over with him, again and again. "Please, please," I panted out, my eyes watering at the thought of failing to oblige the benevolent man. "My lord," I said, my steely eyes drilling into his as I felt every fiber of my being condense into one desire, the desire to earn his approval, "Please tickle my feet."

Smiling, he laughed lightly and began goading my feet into laughing for him again. "Call me your master," he said, gently plucking at a wrinkle on my right foot as I spun onto my side, tugging my feet against his arm. Cooing, I stared into his yellow, starved eyes, a devious aura like lightning spiraling within them. A dark, noxious light seemed to permeate behind him, pulsing like a cloud in the depths of the night sky. It seemed as though sparks crackled in his eyes as the monsoon ate up the sun, casting me in shadow.

"My master," I screamed, howling with laughter as he unleashed his fury upon my feet, striking at the outer edges of my soles with both hands. His lips parted, his monstrous, toothy grin growing pointed as I rolled in my chair, my knees kicking and tugging at him. My feet crashed into his chest, gripping at his shirt with my toes. Leaving them there, he began torturing the tops of my toes, my shoulders pressing into my ears as I giggled pleasantly.

Growling, he pushed my feet away, striking at them with a terrible frenzy of vengeance. Without any semblance of laughing for myself any longer, I laughed hard, loudly, for him and him alone in an attempt to quell his desires. I felt so good, so alive, as I gazed upon his face, begging for him to never stop, begging him to make me suffer for forcing him wait so long. I released everything I had for him, every pent-up emotion, every secret, laughing harder and harder, and yet he only grew more ravenous, his fury spiraling out of control. As I laughed louder and louder -- my cries and screams subduing my consciousness – it felt as though the surge of emotions he exerted onto me became more tangible, his desire to make me suffer pressing into me so tightly that it became my own need. Looking at him, I felt sweat bubble around my torso, an undeniable heat pulsating within me. Falling into his eyes, I felt wonderful, completely beautiful and at peace despite the torrent of emotions I unleashed for the two of us. Nothing else mattered to me, I gave up the world to sit with him, letting him tickle my feet as much as he wanted. The two of us were overrun with a glorious garden of passion, each entirely and selflessly devoted to the needs of the other.

As though winter suddenly descended, he stopped, glaring at the window and hissing as he shielded his eyes from the setting sun. Jumping from the desk, he stomped towards the windows behind me as I huffed, hurriedly catching my breath as I writhed in place, clawing on for a vain hope that we would continue. Reaching upwards with both arms, he slammed the blinds down, twisting and writhing with them as he struggled to destroy the sparkling sun. At once the room grew dark and his muscles bulged, hair blasting from beneath his shirt as he leapt over the table, grabbing the jar of honey as he whistled through the air. I felt my heart flutter in my chest as I sat up, my stamina renewed. He spoke, his voice like a coyote’s as it bayed at the moon for reprieve, "Who said you could stop laughing!?"

Shirking back in my chair, I smiled as he whipped the bottle at my feet, the sticky stuff spraying against me. A globule landed on my cheek, a yellowish stream whining down my jaw line like an envious tear. Feeling a wetness on my chest, I looked down to see a large puddle wobbling there, lines creasing down into my shirt, around and between my breasts. Wiggling my toes, I felt them stick together, the majority of his venomous assault laying claim to the upper most part of my feet. Even the honey obeyed his will, the stuff itching maddeningly as tiny rivers oozed down the wrinkles of my feet, my arches sustaining the most damage.

Almost as soon as he had whipped the bottle at me, he threw it at the wall, the thing shattering loudly. Raising his head, he loudly howled then looked back at me, a devious and devilish light stolen straight from the depths of hell cackling and crackling within his eyes. In a smooth motion he leapt forward, swinging his arms down, his claws wrapping around my ankles while digging into the table beneath them with a splintering snap. Smiling, he looked through my eyes, into my soul as he barked out, "Don't disappoint me, my favorite Treat." Without hesitation he gushed forward, lapping at my trapped feet.

The effect was immediate and catastrophic. Drained from his previous endeavors I lacked the willpower to resist in any way, my struggles mocking the semblance of defiance. I rolled onto my side, my unbound hand rubbing at my face and covering my gaping mouth as I screamed with pleasure, laughing harder and louder than ever before. It was as though every previous experience with him echoed against my body, the memories tickling me while he laid into his work. It was as if each time he committed to torturing me he asserted or imprinted his desires into me, magically etching the torture onto my body in a way that they would activate anew. I became lost in the idea, the terrible pleasure of the thought growing more intense each time it happened, to the point that I ceased thinking of myself as being tickled but rather being informed of the truth, of my true self, almost as if I were regaining a shard of my existence that had been lost to me.

He was slow and thorough. Starting with my toes, he nipped at each one from the bottom up with just the tip of his tongue, assuring that the honey had time to dribble down further and further so that he could reconvene at parts he had previously reclaimed. Holding me tight, he dabbed at each toe, piercing my soul with his precise motions. Before long he began using more of his tongue, swinging in-between my toes, then consuming and sucking upon them. Each time he devoured one he slowly nibbled up it as the meager flesh entered, lathering it with his tongue while releasing it from his lips, then ending each assault by smooshing a gentle peck with his furry lips. The whole time I shuddered and screamed at the unbearable, unbelievably pure sensations that plagued my toes. I threw my hair into a mess with my free hand as I rolled in my chair, my screams turning silent as he switched to the toes of my other foot, cleaning it in the same fashion.

Behind me I listened to the clock thudding, ratcheting its reminders of the devious pace at which he moved. A second would pass and during that time I would lose and regain my sanity tens of times, crying, laughing and screaming all at once. When he abandoned my toes and began undoing my sanity via my arches I leapt forward, clawing at the table, my head falling between my knees as I shivered and shook.

It went on for a long time, certainly long after my feet were clean of the plague he evoked onto them. At some point I noticed that I was no longer thrashing and laughing, so I looked up, wiping a thick amount of sweat from my forehead as he leapt over the table, bringing my right foot with him. Throwing my chair into the wall behind me, he forced me back, lifting my leg upwards as he lapped my cheek like a loving pup, consuming the honey that still stuck there. A concoction of emotions swelled in his eyes, a mixture of lust, hunger, and a deep sense of caring as he stared through me. Reaching forward, he rended my shirt, revealing my naked breasts as I coughed and moaned, shirking up and back in my chair, the wood thudding against the wall behind me. Raising my foot to the side of my face, his grip tightened, the fur itching my skin ever so slightly as he took his other hand to the air, it returning to a human form. "Never stop laughing!" he commanded as he began flaying my sole with his hand.

Just as I began chucking and giggling he burrowed his face into my breasts, lapping from the bottom up, freeing them of their honeyed prison. Carefully, yet with a quick, fiery passion he sped around the side of my breast, flicking his tongue back and forth as he went. There was a gentle ardor to his warm breath that circled around me like a fog, and though he made sure to keep prodding my foot I no longer laughed. It tickled worse than before, but my screams of laughter fell to muted, breathy moans. The anguish he willed upon me overtook me, though, for although his pace had slowed, he still allowed the honey to trickle back down the edges of my breasts so that he could sweep past again and again, savoring me as a treat.

Within moments of the torture, my feet and breasts buzzed as one, humming with a symphony of delightful suffering. I rolled my head around on the back of the chair, hesitant to take in the intense, gushing fury that rolled through my body. While I welcomed it, while I wanted nothing more than to embrace it, I was afraid of what I would become. I was afraid of losing myself to the fervor that bubbled against my skin.

I gasped loud when he began to climb up the middle of my breast, his smooth tongue relishing its journey. Time slowed to an impossible degree. It suddenly seemed that I could sense every crack within his tongue, feeling every tiny fragment of it all at once as though each little section were the size of a planet crashing down upon me. I shuddered, my breath shaky and unsteady. I closed my eyes as he neared my nipples, opening my mouth and groaning as his breath crested over top of them.

Then suddenly I felt the pangs of ticklishness scream at my foot as it was overtaken with wetness. At once my eyes were rent open and I shot up, laughing so wildly that the room shook around me. Right at that moment it felt my entire life had led to that single action, like my entire existence was my feet and to have them tickled just like that. It felt like I had been standing on the edge of the ocean, the water just tipping at my toes, teasing me about the bliss that I could have, and then I was suddenly pulled back and thrown into the ice-cold water. Before I knew it, I was drowning in a furious cataclysm of endless water.

Honestly, at this point I was lost in the sensations, groaning and moaning as a snowstorm of furious pleasure raked through my screaming, laughing body. I know that he alternated between my foot and my breasts, but beyond that I cannot recall anything other than a bright light and an intense buzzing. It was... there was so much going on then, so many conflicting, wonderful things that I had never before felt. I was overwhelmed, laughing and moaning with extreme pleasure. The best way that I could describe it was one of insatiable, never-ending fun and enjoyment.

Truthfully, I hoped that surge of wonder would never end but even I have limits. My throat grew coarse and found itself unable to expel laughter anymore, though it tickled as much – or more – than before. Still, I grew tired, my arms and legs aching with exhaustion as they melted away, falling into a puddle of wet sand that seeped through the cracks of the floor beneath me, until I was no longer myself, unable to express that former visage any longer. I just rolled over, puffing and heaving as he stood back, attempting to continue his work to no avail, my body completely empty of any more ticklish fuel.

He placed my legs back on the table, returning to his seat as his wolf form faded like misty morning rain. For a long time he sat, leaning forward and staring at my face over top of my feet while I breathed so heavily it felt as if I had never had the pleasure of it before. Eventually I felt a bit of strength return and I sat up, lifting my legs from the table and crossing them underneath me while I straightened my hair a bit, still huffing for air. We smiled at each other simultaneously, mine more furious than his. With what strength I had I leapt over the table at him, my arms wrapping around his neck as we crashed backwards into the floor, each of us petting and brushing the hair of the other as our grips around each other tightened us into a single mass of flesh.

That was a good end point and I don't particularly want to continue past those events. Honestly, I think it reasonable to say case closed. However, since this piece started out as more my recollections and thoughts of closing the business then I do feel some closure is necessary.

First, as I said earlier, several days had passed. There was, ah, for lack of a better word, a lot of love making. That was a very intentional word choice.

He somehow managed to learn how to control his transformation and keep different parts as human or wolf, which I very much appreciated. After all, I love both of his persona but the wolf eyes are the ones I want to look into, the ones that I want to feel devouring me as he tickles me into a screaming mess while -- *ahem*. He ah, well, being tickled during is, ah. He bent my knees and kept my feet at my hips and it, ah, it was so much worse during and after. It was wonderful. After a few days of --well, that -- we, he and I, we left that town, put the council and the small group of people that knew of us behind us, out of our lives. We took to a small cottage outside of another small town a few hundred miles away, somewhere where he can, ah, make me scream at his leisure without intervention.

As for the business, well, there isn't a lot to say. I'm a bit sad that I drove it into the ground like I did; it certainly had its ups, but I in no way regret the life of laughter it led me to. Ugh, I can't leave it like that, too sweet and sickly happy and all of that. It's not all good, by any means, we fight plenty and other than our insatiable lust for tickling it really is fairly boring out here. There isn't any real avoiding it, though: we're happy, and this was as good of an end as I could have ever hoped for this little collection of cases, fitting or not.

*Scrawled into the document with claw marks* Coochie coo~

Please do me a favor, old bean: Never stop writing. You keep getting better and better.

Thanks a lot, really appreciate that haha, especially at a time where I'm considering putting it on the back burner to focus more on other things. Posts like that keep me going sir~