Another standalone story. I guess there are vague hints to previous stories in this one, but it isn't particularly important.
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The knight kept swinging her large, two handed sword no matter how many of the goblins came. A trail of bloody corpses marked her passage from the entrance of the cave to the room near the back where she currently fought. There were only a few of them left, a hobgoblin that towered over her lithe 5'7" body and a shaman reclining on a makeshift chair behind it. She swung her sword at the hobgoblin's neck, fully expecting to take its head off like all the others.
She instead felt a shock run through her arm as the blade made contact. Her beloved sword shattered to pieces from the resistance. The goblin shaman cackled in glee from its chair, causing her to realize that it had used a defensive spell to protect its comrade. But she refused to retreat. The knight stepped in under the hobgoblin's lumbering blow to bury her fist into its stomach. She grabbed its head with one hand after it doubled over in pain and smashed it into the ground with enough force to instantly pulverize its skull. She then dove at the shaman to plant her fist through its chest up to her elbow. Not finished, she tore her arm out and tossed the corpse on the ground to begin stomping on its head until it was a fine paste in the name of venting her anger over her broken sword.
The knight took off her helmet and undid her hairband to allow her golden locks to fall down to her shoulder blades after double checking that there weren't any more of the little monsters in the area. The silvery full body plate armor she had so proudly polished to a shine was covered with blood, but she was used to it. It was part of the job. Letting her blue eyes comb the floor for all of the pieces of her shattered sword was the only thing on the knight's mind. She let out a sigh. She knew the price of having it fixed, and she wasn't looking forward to it.
-----
Clarice stood in front of the large wooden temple located near the edge of the castle town. Despite being a religious temple, it was situated in the red-light district between a pair of buildings that the 19-year-old knight insisted to herself were an inn with scantily clad waitresses that did room service and a shop that catered to guardsmen who found themselves in need of additional handcuffs while out on the job. The elaborate, unnecessarily anatomically correct etching of a naked woman laughing from a swarm of feathers stroking her all over above the main entrance marked the building she stood in front of as the temple of... somebody. Clarice had never cared much for religion and only vaguely remembered somebody explaining who it was to her. It was some god or goddess of tickling who was allegedly powerful enough to create entire worlds. She didn't want to be here, but she didn't have a choice.
'Why oh why does that woman have to have such twisted hobbies?' Clarice thought to herself. Raucous laughter was emanating from the building. There was always laughter here. The only time the temple was silent was when there wasn't a single person in it. Clarice steeled her resolve. 'But she's the only blacksmith in the city good enough to work with enchanted weapons, so I'm stuck with her. Gods damnit. Let's get this over with.'
The sight that greeted her in the main hall made her blush no matter how many times she was unwillingly brought here. Over a dozen naked men and women were bound to various bondage devices throughout the large room. All of them were being tickle tortured by groups of 4-5 people, who themselves wore anything from simple robes to nothing at all. The screams of laughter reverberating through the air were nearly deafening. Clarice could hear not only frenzied pleas and babbling for mercy, but also equally desperate begging for the torture to continue or increase in intensity.
The room made the knight uncomfortable, but not in a way she liked to admit. She could feel the nipples on her D cup chest stiffen upon hearing the screams, laughter, and begging. Her panties were becoming moist with arousal watching the naked bodies writhe under their ticklish torment. She took a glance around the room looking for the door she needed when her eyes settled on the only bound woman in the room not being tickled. The naked red-haired bombshell with her feet locked in stocks and her arms bound above her head noticed her gaze and invitingly wiggled her toes at her. Clarice quickly looked away and pretended she hadn't seen her. The woman's choice of bondage reminded her of her own ticklish spots and how her current clothing only served to highlight them.
'I should've worn something else,' she thought. 'I'm pretty certain this sort of outfit would only make people want to tickle me.' Her choice of a green floral-patterned spaghetti strap sundress and open toed sandals had looked refreshingly in season in the mirror, but now seemed to foolishly expose far too much skin in all the wrong places given where she'd headed to. Luckily, she spotted the door in the corner that she needed. She made a beeline for it to get out of the hall as quickly as possible before anybody got any funny ideas about her purpose here.
Closing the door behind her did wonders in cutting down on the noise. The laughter was still clearly audible, but at least now she didn't feel like she was going to get a headache from all the screaming. Heading down several hallways and up a couple flights of stairs let her reach an unassuming door near the beginning of a hallway. Clarice readjusted the bag containing all of the pieces of her broken sword that she could find on her back and knocked without hesitation.
A tall woman, taller than Clarice at 5'11", opened the door. Her short cropped black hair looked more like it had been burnt that short rather than cut, and Clarice liked to imagine that it was the intensity of the gaze permanently in her black eyes that was responsible for it. Her simple tunic and pants didn't do much to hide the well-defined muscles across her entire tanned body.
"Hello, Diana. Got another job for you," Clarice stated while taking the pack off her shoulders. She held it out in front of her for the woman to take. The blacksmith looked back and forth between the pack and the knight with a scowl before taking it.
"Always jobs with you," she grumbled. "Never a social visit. No 'How have things been with you, Diana?' or 'Let's go grab some tea, Diana!', always business with you." Clarice smirked with amusement and followed her friend in. The blacksmith being so willing to grumble and complain to her was a sign of how close they were. She hoped. "So, what'd you do this time? Not often that a sword this large gets broken into such little pieces."
Diana had opened the pack and haphazardly emptied it onto the desk in the room, causing bits of metal to go scattering all over the top. Any that were about to spill over bounced against an invisible wall to stay within the bounds of the table. Clarice focused on trying to reverse engineer whatever magic the desk was enchanted with rather than look around. She knew what else was in the room and she'd rather not have to look at it, lest so much as observing that it exists cause her to be stuck using it.
"A goblin shaman proved to be unusually adept," she explained. "He cast a defensive spell strong enough to cause the blade to shatter on impact. I had to finish the fight with my fists." Diana turned around to stare at her. Specifically, at her willowy arms.
"Most folks would sooner drop the blade from the shock than have it break like this in their hands." The blacksmith shook her head. "That god of yours must be even crazier than mine to make the grip of a little thing like you enough to lift a sword this big, much less be stronger than magically reinforced steel." Clarice shrugged at the observation rather than respond. A conversation about the gods in a temple such as this was another step towards the topic of tickling that she didn't want to come up. Diana turned back to look at the sword.
"So how soon will you have it repaired?" the young knight asked.
"Give me a month or two. It'll come out to 7,000 gold." Clarice froze up at the price quote. She figured she wouldn't be able to pay for it when she first came over, but tonight was starting to look very bleak for her.
"...I don't have that kind of money. Is there anything else I can do to pay you back?" she managed to force out after a couple minutes of silence. She could see an evil grin spreading across Diana's face. The blacksmith didn't even try to hide her glee as she turned around to face her, then motioned her head towards the corner of the room that Clarice had been so careful not to look at.
In the corner was a set of specially reinforced stocks. They had all sorts of magical enhancements put on them so that even someone as strong as Clarice had no hope of breaking out. Diana had crafted them herself after her first attempt to extract payment from the knight with this method had resulted in the temple provided bed being smashed to bits. Clarice began stiffly walking towards them. They'd gone through this too many times for her to need an explanation. She sat down on the chair and put her ankles in the stocks. Diana shut them and put the lock on. The knight didn't resist when the blacksmith gathered her hands above her head to be tied with a piece of rope. Finally, a belt was wrapped around her waist under her sundress to the chair to keep her from falling off.
"I hope you're prepared, little one. You're gonna be paying this off all night." Clarice's cheeks burned with humiliation as her friend took a step back to admire her handiwork. "Don't worry. I'll tickle you nice and hard. No breaks no matter how much you beg, just the way you like it." She began tracing blunt fingertips in figure eight patterns inside the knight's exposed hollows. Clarice screwed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the sensation.
'What was I thinking wearing this?' she berated herself. 'There's no way a ticklephile like Diana wouldn't go for my armpits when I keep them exposed. It's almost like I wanted her to home in on my worst spots!" She bit her lip and put on her best poker face in the hopes that her lack of reaction would dissuade further tickling. But Diana knew her already. Her friend kept her fingers moving at a steady pace and waited for her crack.
"Hehehehe.... HehehehehahahahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" She couldn't hold back from giggling for long. And once she did, Diana picked up the pace to force the floodgates on her laughter wide open. She went from drawing figure eights to putting all four fingers together and rubbing them up and down while moving back and forth across her pits. The overwhelming sense of helplessness from the strict bondage made it infinitely worse for the captive knight. Her upper body was stretched taut so she couldn't even flex her arms down in the slightest. All she could do was futilely twist around a small amount.
"No begging, little girl? I know you love to. Admit it, begging me for mercy and not getting any is what you love most about this," Diana taunted. After a couple minutes she took her fingers out and stood up to walk back to the desk.
"And give you the pleasure? Fat chance," Clarice retorted. "Oh no..." Diana came back holding a jar of baby oil and a pair of hairbrushes that had been on the desk. Without preamble, the blacksmith poured a large helping of the liquid into her hands, rubbed them together, and began massaging Clarice's pits.
"Give in, Clarice. Losing control's the fun of all this. You've been through this before. You know how much better it is to let the tickling take over than it is resist." Diana leaned in to whisper that into her ear. Clarice looked away. She knew that what her friend was saying was right. The last couple times she'd been forced to pay like this had been better after she stopped fighting it. Enjoyable, even. But she refused to admit that she was the type of girl who found being bound and dominated by another woman as something enjoyable. Her pride wouldn't let her.
"NOOOOOO! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" she screamed when she felt the hairbrushes make contact. Diana went straight for the kill with them. Grabbing both by the base of the handles, she dove in to begin madly scrubbing away. It was too intense for Clarice to hold on. Her promise to herself to not beg was instantly broken. She pleas went unanswered for nearly 10 minutes before her tormentor gave her a break.
"That's a good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now you'll be nice and warmed up for the rest of the session," Diana purred. She applied a little more oil to her finger tips so she could slip her hands up under her sundress and glide them across the knight's taut stomach. The girl shook and giggled as the hands made their way down from the bottom of her ribs to right above her crotch in a sweeping zig-zag pattern.
"Diana, stop. Don't touch me there. I'm here to pay you by letting you tickle me, not with sex," Clarice protested. Diana mock pouted, but relented with a grin.
"Yeah, yeah. The rules work both ways after all. You agreed to be tickled, I agreed not to make it sexual," the blacksmith replied. She teasingly traced her fingers across the knight's panty line, causing her to gasp and squirm. "But just know that I'm always willing if you're ever in the mood."
Instead the blacksmith moved on to gently squeezing above her knees. Clarice squealed each time the fingers sunk in. After about a minute she traced her fingers down the bound girl's calves to pull off her sandals. Clarice braced herself. This was where the real punishment started.
"I see you've done as I recommended. Deep down, you really love being tickle tortured, don't you," Diana commented. Diana had recommended a treatment of various lotions, creams, massages, and foot baths to push Clarice's already sensitive feet to another level. Before the knight realized it, she was visiting local massage parlors and spas and had a new collection of jars in her bathroom. The care she'd taken with her feet since then had made them the softest they'd ever been in her life.
'Why did I do that...?' Clarice wondered to herself. 'Because I wanted to see how bad the tickling could get,' was the answer that popped into her own head. She watched as Diana picked up the jar of baby oil, then evidently thought better of it. Instead her friend grabbed the big toe on her left foot and leaned in to slowly lick from the base of her heel up to her toes along the inside edge of her foot in one steady stroke. When she got up to the toes she popped the closest one into her mouth and spent a couple minutes gently nibbling and rolling it around with her tongue.
"HehehehehAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP! STOP THAHAHAHAHAT! HEHEHEHEHEHE! LEAVE MY FEET ALOHOHOHOHOHOHONE!" Clarice squealed and tried to kick the entire way through, but the reinforced stocks held true. She wasn't able to get relief from the tongue for even a moment. When that trip was done, Diana moved over a couple centimeters so that a small part of her tongue was covering new area, then started again. She repeated the process over and over until she finally completed the trip to the outer edge of her foot.
"Mmmmm. Such sweet feet," Diana said with a satisfied smile. "But it's missing something." The blacksmith left the room and came back a couple minutes later holding jars filled with various jams. She unscrewed the top of a red one labeled "Cherry" and poured a large helping all over Clarice's foot. The bound knight shivered at the sudden cold sensation. "Sorry, Clarice. It looks like I got your feet all dirty. Don't worry, I'll do a good job of cleaning it off now." With that, she started the process all over from the beginning.
"Ah! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oooh... mmm... hehehehehAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHA!" Clarice found she was starting to have another problem than just being tickle tortured. It was like the ticklish sensations from each lick were heading straight for her crotch instead of her head. It was especially bad whenever Diana was sucking on her toes. Moans were mixing in with her peals of laughter. The pent-up arousal was starting to make her breasts and pussy ache with desire. The worst part was that it wasn't even that the two sensations were competing, but instead complimenting each other to drive her out of her mind.
The helpless knight's arousal didn't escape Diana's notice. And she had zero intention of letting the poor girl off easily. She carefully watched Clarice's expression to gauge when she was at her limit before she stopped licking. Then, she picked up the hairbrushes again and began scrubbing them in circles in her captive's armpits. Her toy’s pits were still lathered up with baby oil, so the implements easily glided about.
"WHYHAHAHAHAHAHA!?" Clarice screamed with shock.
"Sorry, Hun! You said it yourself, no sex! I'd be breaking my promise if I let you cum here," Diana claimed. Clarice howled and thrashed as much as her bondage would allow for several minutes before Diana returned to her feet. But this time, she kept hold of one of the hairbrushes and used that instead of her tongue. She scrubbed the brush vertically across her tender soles to finish the trip her tongue had been traveling and elicit new heights of bucking and screaming.
Next, she applied baby oil to both feet and began tying each toe back with bits of twine hanging from the stocks. Taking hold of the second hairbrush, she applied one to each foot for the next 20 minutes. One hand moved its hairbrush in circles while the other alternated between scrubbing horizontally and vertically. She switched up which foot was getting which treatment at random intervals. Clarice howled, screamed, and cried from beginning to end, the torture being so bad that the breath she would've used to beg was entirely devoted to laughing more. She was a complete wreck by the end. Diana watched her friend gasp for air, then judging that 10 seconds was a good enough break, grabbed a jar of blueberry jam.
"No... no more..." Clarice begged. Tears of fear were running down her face at the prospect of having the entire process start over again. The joy she was starting to accept at being tickled had been blown away by the severity of her punishment.
"I told you that we were going to go all night. It isn't even evening yet, so buck up. You have at least another 12 hours before sunrise." Diana cruelly began covering her captive's right foot with the jam.
-----
Never in her life had Clarice felt so thoroughly beaten. Diana had kept her promises to both tickle her all night and never allow her to orgasm. The knight had discarded her pride and attempted all manner of promises and deals in order to get her torturer to ease up even slightly, to no avail. Tracks tears had left down her face and a large stain on the carpet in front of the chair she'd sat in bore testament to how badly the blacksmith had treated her over the course of the night.
At least the bath at the temple was nice. Sinking into the giant communal bath filled with all manners of herbs and soothing salts was exactly what her aching body needed. She faltered when she looked at the hairbrush that had been provided for her. The knight wasn't certain she could ever look at the tool the same after Diana had so thoroughly proven to her how devastating a weapon they could be. But her hair was a tangled mess now and the prospect of having the blacksmith stand behind her holding the thing pleased her even less. Clarice grabbed it and began working out the knots and snarls that had developed in her long hair as she soaked.
After she got out, toweled off, and got dressed in the robe and underwear the temple had provided her as a guest, she felt like something resembling a human again. Putting on her sandals, she shuffled outside to the common area where Diana was waiting for her. The blacksmith grabbed her pack, now filled with her soiled clothes, off the spot on the bench next to her and casually tossed it across the room. Clarice caught it easily.
"So, like I said, it'll probably take a month or two for me to reforge your weapon and reapply all of the enchantments on it. No offence, but this has gotta go at the end of the backlog. I can't exactly ignore jobs from all of those flouncy nobles for you." Clarice nodded at the explanation. She hadn't been expecting Diana to do such a thing in the first place.
"Send a message to my house when it's done. Preferably in writing, I have no idea if I'll be out on a mission at that time or not." This time it was Diana's turn to nod. As Clarice made her way out the door on her way out of the temple, she heard Diana call out one last time.
"Though if you happen to be up for another round of payment, then maybe I could 'forget' about some of those other jobs of mine. Though just so you know, my goddess demands that all women who are tickled be naked for it, and I could probably afford to be a little more pious. Just a bit of forewarning if you decide to give it a shot."
"Only if you can prove that you'll be more gentle next time." Clarice stuck her tongue out at her friend along with her retort, then giggled. Despite how trying the night had been, the idea appealed to her. She found herself in quite the good mood on her trip home.
Continued in Part 2
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The knight kept swinging her large, two handed sword no matter how many of the goblins came. A trail of bloody corpses marked her passage from the entrance of the cave to the room near the back where she currently fought. There were only a few of them left, a hobgoblin that towered over her lithe 5'7" body and a shaman reclining on a makeshift chair behind it. She swung her sword at the hobgoblin's neck, fully expecting to take its head off like all the others.
She instead felt a shock run through her arm as the blade made contact. Her beloved sword shattered to pieces from the resistance. The goblin shaman cackled in glee from its chair, causing her to realize that it had used a defensive spell to protect its comrade. But she refused to retreat. The knight stepped in under the hobgoblin's lumbering blow to bury her fist into its stomach. She grabbed its head with one hand after it doubled over in pain and smashed it into the ground with enough force to instantly pulverize its skull. She then dove at the shaman to plant her fist through its chest up to her elbow. Not finished, she tore her arm out and tossed the corpse on the ground to begin stomping on its head until it was a fine paste in the name of venting her anger over her broken sword.
The knight took off her helmet and undid her hairband to allow her golden locks to fall down to her shoulder blades after double checking that there weren't any more of the little monsters in the area. The silvery full body plate armor she had so proudly polished to a shine was covered with blood, but she was used to it. It was part of the job. Letting her blue eyes comb the floor for all of the pieces of her shattered sword was the only thing on the knight's mind. She let out a sigh. She knew the price of having it fixed, and she wasn't looking forward to it.
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Clarice stood in front of the large wooden temple located near the edge of the castle town. Despite being a religious temple, it was situated in the red-light district between a pair of buildings that the 19-year-old knight insisted to herself were an inn with scantily clad waitresses that did room service and a shop that catered to guardsmen who found themselves in need of additional handcuffs while out on the job. The elaborate, unnecessarily anatomically correct etching of a naked woman laughing from a swarm of feathers stroking her all over above the main entrance marked the building she stood in front of as the temple of... somebody. Clarice had never cared much for religion and only vaguely remembered somebody explaining who it was to her. It was some god or goddess of tickling who was allegedly powerful enough to create entire worlds. She didn't want to be here, but she didn't have a choice.
'Why oh why does that woman have to have such twisted hobbies?' Clarice thought to herself. Raucous laughter was emanating from the building. There was always laughter here. The only time the temple was silent was when there wasn't a single person in it. Clarice steeled her resolve. 'But she's the only blacksmith in the city good enough to work with enchanted weapons, so I'm stuck with her. Gods damnit. Let's get this over with.'
The sight that greeted her in the main hall made her blush no matter how many times she was unwillingly brought here. Over a dozen naked men and women were bound to various bondage devices throughout the large room. All of them were being tickle tortured by groups of 4-5 people, who themselves wore anything from simple robes to nothing at all. The screams of laughter reverberating through the air were nearly deafening. Clarice could hear not only frenzied pleas and babbling for mercy, but also equally desperate begging for the torture to continue or increase in intensity.
The room made the knight uncomfortable, but not in a way she liked to admit. She could feel the nipples on her D cup chest stiffen upon hearing the screams, laughter, and begging. Her panties were becoming moist with arousal watching the naked bodies writhe under their ticklish torment. She took a glance around the room looking for the door she needed when her eyes settled on the only bound woman in the room not being tickled. The naked red-haired bombshell with her feet locked in stocks and her arms bound above her head noticed her gaze and invitingly wiggled her toes at her. Clarice quickly looked away and pretended she hadn't seen her. The woman's choice of bondage reminded her of her own ticklish spots and how her current clothing only served to highlight them.
'I should've worn something else,' she thought. 'I'm pretty certain this sort of outfit would only make people want to tickle me.' Her choice of a green floral-patterned spaghetti strap sundress and open toed sandals had looked refreshingly in season in the mirror, but now seemed to foolishly expose far too much skin in all the wrong places given where she'd headed to. Luckily, she spotted the door in the corner that she needed. She made a beeline for it to get out of the hall as quickly as possible before anybody got any funny ideas about her purpose here.
Closing the door behind her did wonders in cutting down on the noise. The laughter was still clearly audible, but at least now she didn't feel like she was going to get a headache from all the screaming. Heading down several hallways and up a couple flights of stairs let her reach an unassuming door near the beginning of a hallway. Clarice readjusted the bag containing all of the pieces of her broken sword that she could find on her back and knocked without hesitation.
A tall woman, taller than Clarice at 5'11", opened the door. Her short cropped black hair looked more like it had been burnt that short rather than cut, and Clarice liked to imagine that it was the intensity of the gaze permanently in her black eyes that was responsible for it. Her simple tunic and pants didn't do much to hide the well-defined muscles across her entire tanned body.
"Hello, Diana. Got another job for you," Clarice stated while taking the pack off her shoulders. She held it out in front of her for the woman to take. The blacksmith looked back and forth between the pack and the knight with a scowl before taking it.
"Always jobs with you," she grumbled. "Never a social visit. No 'How have things been with you, Diana?' or 'Let's go grab some tea, Diana!', always business with you." Clarice smirked with amusement and followed her friend in. The blacksmith being so willing to grumble and complain to her was a sign of how close they were. She hoped. "So, what'd you do this time? Not often that a sword this large gets broken into such little pieces."
Diana had opened the pack and haphazardly emptied it onto the desk in the room, causing bits of metal to go scattering all over the top. Any that were about to spill over bounced against an invisible wall to stay within the bounds of the table. Clarice focused on trying to reverse engineer whatever magic the desk was enchanted with rather than look around. She knew what else was in the room and she'd rather not have to look at it, lest so much as observing that it exists cause her to be stuck using it.
"A goblin shaman proved to be unusually adept," she explained. "He cast a defensive spell strong enough to cause the blade to shatter on impact. I had to finish the fight with my fists." Diana turned around to stare at her. Specifically, at her willowy arms.
"Most folks would sooner drop the blade from the shock than have it break like this in their hands." The blacksmith shook her head. "That god of yours must be even crazier than mine to make the grip of a little thing like you enough to lift a sword this big, much less be stronger than magically reinforced steel." Clarice shrugged at the observation rather than respond. A conversation about the gods in a temple such as this was another step towards the topic of tickling that she didn't want to come up. Diana turned back to look at the sword.
"So how soon will you have it repaired?" the young knight asked.
"Give me a month or two. It'll come out to 7,000 gold." Clarice froze up at the price quote. She figured she wouldn't be able to pay for it when she first came over, but tonight was starting to look very bleak for her.
"...I don't have that kind of money. Is there anything else I can do to pay you back?" she managed to force out after a couple minutes of silence. She could see an evil grin spreading across Diana's face. The blacksmith didn't even try to hide her glee as she turned around to face her, then motioned her head towards the corner of the room that Clarice had been so careful not to look at.
In the corner was a set of specially reinforced stocks. They had all sorts of magical enhancements put on them so that even someone as strong as Clarice had no hope of breaking out. Diana had crafted them herself after her first attempt to extract payment from the knight with this method had resulted in the temple provided bed being smashed to bits. Clarice began stiffly walking towards them. They'd gone through this too many times for her to need an explanation. She sat down on the chair and put her ankles in the stocks. Diana shut them and put the lock on. The knight didn't resist when the blacksmith gathered her hands above her head to be tied with a piece of rope. Finally, a belt was wrapped around her waist under her sundress to the chair to keep her from falling off.
"I hope you're prepared, little one. You're gonna be paying this off all night." Clarice's cheeks burned with humiliation as her friend took a step back to admire her handiwork. "Don't worry. I'll tickle you nice and hard. No breaks no matter how much you beg, just the way you like it." She began tracing blunt fingertips in figure eight patterns inside the knight's exposed hollows. Clarice screwed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the sensation.
'What was I thinking wearing this?' she berated herself. 'There's no way a ticklephile like Diana wouldn't go for my armpits when I keep them exposed. It's almost like I wanted her to home in on my worst spots!" She bit her lip and put on her best poker face in the hopes that her lack of reaction would dissuade further tickling. But Diana knew her already. Her friend kept her fingers moving at a steady pace and waited for her crack.
"Hehehehe.... HehehehehahahahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" She couldn't hold back from giggling for long. And once she did, Diana picked up the pace to force the floodgates on her laughter wide open. She went from drawing figure eights to putting all four fingers together and rubbing them up and down while moving back and forth across her pits. The overwhelming sense of helplessness from the strict bondage made it infinitely worse for the captive knight. Her upper body was stretched taut so she couldn't even flex her arms down in the slightest. All she could do was futilely twist around a small amount.
"No begging, little girl? I know you love to. Admit it, begging me for mercy and not getting any is what you love most about this," Diana taunted. After a couple minutes she took her fingers out and stood up to walk back to the desk.
"And give you the pleasure? Fat chance," Clarice retorted. "Oh no..." Diana came back holding a jar of baby oil and a pair of hairbrushes that had been on the desk. Without preamble, the blacksmith poured a large helping of the liquid into her hands, rubbed them together, and began massaging Clarice's pits.
"Give in, Clarice. Losing control's the fun of all this. You've been through this before. You know how much better it is to let the tickling take over than it is resist." Diana leaned in to whisper that into her ear. Clarice looked away. She knew that what her friend was saying was right. The last couple times she'd been forced to pay like this had been better after she stopped fighting it. Enjoyable, even. But she refused to admit that she was the type of girl who found being bound and dominated by another woman as something enjoyable. Her pride wouldn't let her.
"NOOOOOO! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" she screamed when she felt the hairbrushes make contact. Diana went straight for the kill with them. Grabbing both by the base of the handles, she dove in to begin madly scrubbing away. It was too intense for Clarice to hold on. Her promise to herself to not beg was instantly broken. She pleas went unanswered for nearly 10 minutes before her tormentor gave her a break.
"That's a good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now you'll be nice and warmed up for the rest of the session," Diana purred. She applied a little more oil to her finger tips so she could slip her hands up under her sundress and glide them across the knight's taut stomach. The girl shook and giggled as the hands made their way down from the bottom of her ribs to right above her crotch in a sweeping zig-zag pattern.
"Diana, stop. Don't touch me there. I'm here to pay you by letting you tickle me, not with sex," Clarice protested. Diana mock pouted, but relented with a grin.
"Yeah, yeah. The rules work both ways after all. You agreed to be tickled, I agreed not to make it sexual," the blacksmith replied. She teasingly traced her fingers across the knight's panty line, causing her to gasp and squirm. "But just know that I'm always willing if you're ever in the mood."
Instead the blacksmith moved on to gently squeezing above her knees. Clarice squealed each time the fingers sunk in. After about a minute she traced her fingers down the bound girl's calves to pull off her sandals. Clarice braced herself. This was where the real punishment started.
"I see you've done as I recommended. Deep down, you really love being tickle tortured, don't you," Diana commented. Diana had recommended a treatment of various lotions, creams, massages, and foot baths to push Clarice's already sensitive feet to another level. Before the knight realized it, she was visiting local massage parlors and spas and had a new collection of jars in her bathroom. The care she'd taken with her feet since then had made them the softest they'd ever been in her life.
'Why did I do that...?' Clarice wondered to herself. 'Because I wanted to see how bad the tickling could get,' was the answer that popped into her own head. She watched as Diana picked up the jar of baby oil, then evidently thought better of it. Instead her friend grabbed the big toe on her left foot and leaned in to slowly lick from the base of her heel up to her toes along the inside edge of her foot in one steady stroke. When she got up to the toes she popped the closest one into her mouth and spent a couple minutes gently nibbling and rolling it around with her tongue.
"HehehehehAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP! STOP THAHAHAHAHAT! HEHEHEHEHEHE! LEAVE MY FEET ALOHOHOHOHOHOHONE!" Clarice squealed and tried to kick the entire way through, but the reinforced stocks held true. She wasn't able to get relief from the tongue for even a moment. When that trip was done, Diana moved over a couple centimeters so that a small part of her tongue was covering new area, then started again. She repeated the process over and over until she finally completed the trip to the outer edge of her foot.
"Mmmmm. Such sweet feet," Diana said with a satisfied smile. "But it's missing something." The blacksmith left the room and came back a couple minutes later holding jars filled with various jams. She unscrewed the top of a red one labeled "Cherry" and poured a large helping all over Clarice's foot. The bound knight shivered at the sudden cold sensation. "Sorry, Clarice. It looks like I got your feet all dirty. Don't worry, I'll do a good job of cleaning it off now." With that, she started the process all over from the beginning.
"Ah! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Oooh... mmm... hehehehehAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHA!" Clarice found she was starting to have another problem than just being tickle tortured. It was like the ticklish sensations from each lick were heading straight for her crotch instead of her head. It was especially bad whenever Diana was sucking on her toes. Moans were mixing in with her peals of laughter. The pent-up arousal was starting to make her breasts and pussy ache with desire. The worst part was that it wasn't even that the two sensations were competing, but instead complimenting each other to drive her out of her mind.
The helpless knight's arousal didn't escape Diana's notice. And she had zero intention of letting the poor girl off easily. She carefully watched Clarice's expression to gauge when she was at her limit before she stopped licking. Then, she picked up the hairbrushes again and began scrubbing them in circles in her captive's armpits. Her toy’s pits were still lathered up with baby oil, so the implements easily glided about.
"WHYHAHAHAHAHAHA!?" Clarice screamed with shock.
"Sorry, Hun! You said it yourself, no sex! I'd be breaking my promise if I let you cum here," Diana claimed. Clarice howled and thrashed as much as her bondage would allow for several minutes before Diana returned to her feet. But this time, she kept hold of one of the hairbrushes and used that instead of her tongue. She scrubbed the brush vertically across her tender soles to finish the trip her tongue had been traveling and elicit new heights of bucking and screaming.
Next, she applied baby oil to both feet and began tying each toe back with bits of twine hanging from the stocks. Taking hold of the second hairbrush, she applied one to each foot for the next 20 minutes. One hand moved its hairbrush in circles while the other alternated between scrubbing horizontally and vertically. She switched up which foot was getting which treatment at random intervals. Clarice howled, screamed, and cried from beginning to end, the torture being so bad that the breath she would've used to beg was entirely devoted to laughing more. She was a complete wreck by the end. Diana watched her friend gasp for air, then judging that 10 seconds was a good enough break, grabbed a jar of blueberry jam.
"No... no more..." Clarice begged. Tears of fear were running down her face at the prospect of having the entire process start over again. The joy she was starting to accept at being tickled had been blown away by the severity of her punishment.
"I told you that we were going to go all night. It isn't even evening yet, so buck up. You have at least another 12 hours before sunrise." Diana cruelly began covering her captive's right foot with the jam.
-----
Never in her life had Clarice felt so thoroughly beaten. Diana had kept her promises to both tickle her all night and never allow her to orgasm. The knight had discarded her pride and attempted all manner of promises and deals in order to get her torturer to ease up even slightly, to no avail. Tracks tears had left down her face and a large stain on the carpet in front of the chair she'd sat in bore testament to how badly the blacksmith had treated her over the course of the night.
At least the bath at the temple was nice. Sinking into the giant communal bath filled with all manners of herbs and soothing salts was exactly what her aching body needed. She faltered when she looked at the hairbrush that had been provided for her. The knight wasn't certain she could ever look at the tool the same after Diana had so thoroughly proven to her how devastating a weapon they could be. But her hair was a tangled mess now and the prospect of having the blacksmith stand behind her holding the thing pleased her even less. Clarice grabbed it and began working out the knots and snarls that had developed in her long hair as she soaked.
After she got out, toweled off, and got dressed in the robe and underwear the temple had provided her as a guest, she felt like something resembling a human again. Putting on her sandals, she shuffled outside to the common area where Diana was waiting for her. The blacksmith grabbed her pack, now filled with her soiled clothes, off the spot on the bench next to her and casually tossed it across the room. Clarice caught it easily.
"So, like I said, it'll probably take a month or two for me to reforge your weapon and reapply all of the enchantments on it. No offence, but this has gotta go at the end of the backlog. I can't exactly ignore jobs from all of those flouncy nobles for you." Clarice nodded at the explanation. She hadn't been expecting Diana to do such a thing in the first place.
"Send a message to my house when it's done. Preferably in writing, I have no idea if I'll be out on a mission at that time or not." This time it was Diana's turn to nod. As Clarice made her way out the door on her way out of the temple, she heard Diana call out one last time.
"Though if you happen to be up for another round of payment, then maybe I could 'forget' about some of those other jobs of mine. Though just so you know, my goddess demands that all women who are tickled be naked for it, and I could probably afford to be a little more pious. Just a bit of forewarning if you decide to give it a shot."
"Only if you can prove that you'll be more gentle next time." Clarice stuck her tongue out at her friend along with her retort, then giggled. Despite how trying the night had been, the idea appealed to her. She found herself in quite the good mood on her trip home.
Continued in Part 2
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