Lostcause13
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For those of you who don't know, I organized an ad-hoc Secret Santa story exchange for some members of our community, entitled "Squealing Santa". We had 10 participants including myself, and I used a website with a random selection tool to draw names when entries closed. I drew the lovely and talented Fantasy Play, and this story is for her. We had a 4,000 word limit to keep the stories of medium length and fun to write/read. Hope you all like it, and I'd love to hear what you think to include constructive criticism.
But enough about me and shamelessly peddling the event i made, the girl you have all been waiting for, drum roll please....Fantasy Play!
A Fantastic Festival of Christmas Fantasy
It was a cold and stormy night in the Canadian hills. Fantasy had just gotten out of the car and rushed inside, her arms loaded with bags. The short walk from her detached garage to her house was quite enough to cover Fantasy in snow. Once inside her warm home, she instantly shed her scarf, gloves and hat before dropping her shopping bags. It was only as she kicked her boots off that Fantasy saw two elves, standing on each other's shoulders right in front of her.
Before she could even scream, the elf on top blew a fine, glittering powder out of his palm and into Fantasy's face. She teetered for a moment, and fell back into several cushy, red pillows trimmed with white. The elf on top hopped down and said in a comical, high pitched voice “She's all yours. Make sure the fuel cell is on before you start. We’ll get to work wrapping her gifts.” The man they were addressing was sitting at her couch with his back to them, observing the fire with a glass of coquito.
“Thank you gentlemen, I'll get right to work.” The man stood up, he was well above average height and had an athletic build. His face had a few days’ growth and a tired but genuine smile in the firelight. This was the easiest community service ever. He would have done it even if he wasn't offered five years on the “nice” list.
A few minutes later, Fantasy woke up to find herself on her rug, by the fireplace. She tried to sit up, but found that she couldn't. Her feet were tied up at the ankle on an ottoman, and still clad in her wool red and green socks. The rest of her clothes however were nowhere to be found. She was wearing only her red bra and green panties. Her hands were stretched tight over her head, and tied at the wrists and elbows. She looked up at her smiling captor and panicked. She blurted out “Who the hell are you? Get out of my house!”
He raised a hand in silence and said softly “Let's just say I'm a friend of Santa's. He needs your laughter to fuel his sleigh. I'm here to collect.” He knelt and unrolled a set of tools. Fantasy retorted “Christmas cheer makes the sleigh fly! Everyone knows that. Who are you really?”
He wasted no time, and began to slowly trace a finger around her belly in circles. She then noticed an object on her end table where she always left Santa cookies. It looked like a recording device, and there was a blinking red light on. As he tickled a little harder, she started to giggle a bit. She saw the light get brighter.
She tried to reason with him “W...wait! Hehehe! I need to make cookies! Ahh!” He began to gently knead her tummy as she spoke. “The elves are baking right now. They let me in and put you to sleep. They're wrapping your gifts too. They are doing their part for you, so you do your part for Santa! Tickle tickle!”
She cackled loudly as he began to dig into her stomach. His fingertips were skilled and experienced, and her belly was very ticklish. What made it worse was that she couldn't fight back or protect herself. She hadn’t been tied in so long. This was going to be bad…
Her mysterious tickler goosed her sides, making her squeal and thrash her hips from side to side, away from one tickling hand and into the other. Fantasy fixed her eyes on the fuel cell. When would it be done? Could she take it? Suddenly that no longer mattered as she felt her socks slipping off.
“Nonononono! Please no!” She pleaded. Her feet were her absolute worst spot, and she couldn't handle this yet. It didn't matter, as seconds later her socks fell to the floor, and she felt the hot air of the fire on them, as well as hands resting there. She exhaled sharply at his touch, and squealed as he started gently wiggling his fingers into her arches.
Fantasy turned her head to the side and laughed loudly, trying to muffle the sound in her shoulder. Her tickler saw this and said “Oh Fantasy, no hiding your laughs or this will take longer!” Just then, as he held back her toes and tickled the pad underneath she remembered. She loved being tickled, and this skilled, merciless stranger was damn good at it. Not to mention he was easy on the eyes...she didn't want him to be done no matter how much she begged.
Fantasy’s soles were in agony as he tortured under her toes, but that was nothing compared to what was coming. After maybe a few minutes, he abandoned her toes and started to lobster claw her knees. Her legs shook up and down, trying to escape. For all her efforts at escape, the only release poor Fantasy had was laughter. So she laughed her heart and lungs out. She laughed as he scratched and spidered her inner thighs, she laughed when he pinched her hips and wiggled his fingers into her “leg pits”, and she laughed like a Hyena as he tortured her navel with a feather.
Her back arched the moment the feather touched her exposed belly, and only hit the floor again when he withdrew it. As she lay there laughing, he twirled the feather in his hand “Would you believe all my toys came from the North pole? Snowy owl feather. I’ve also got a polar bear hair brush for those pits, and a reindeer antler pen for when we get back to those soles.” He winked and licked his lips.
Fantasy pulled at her bonds and whimpered “How much more?” He laughed and retorted with sadistic glee “Oh, we have a long way to go beautiful!”
Damon dropped the feather, and immediately picked up the “Polar bear fur” brush. They were round, and about the size of his palms. He slowly lowered them towards her armpits as he taunted “I hope those pits are ticklish! Tickle tickle!” She started giggling instinctively at the approach, but couldn't take her eyes off of them.
When the brushes finally made contact, she jerked her shoulders to each side, desperately trying to escape. She let out a loud gasp that emptied her lungs, and descended into silent laughter for a few seconds. She recovered her breath after five agonizing seconds and let out a loud belly laugh that even frightened her tormentor for a moment.
He circled the brushes a little slower now, and his wicked smile returned. He teased “Sorry cutie, but silent laughter will only make this take longer, think of that as five seconds just for fun!” That was too much, her mind was focusing on the end of this all, and the idea that some time wasn't counting only worsened her panic. She tried to beg, but it came out as a pout “Nohoho! No! Nahahahahaooooo!”
After perhaps a minute of using the brushes, he dropped them audibly. Fantasy knew better than to expect relief hearing this. A man taking a break would place them down gently. She knew a drop only meant one thing: fingers, coming in fast!
Her inclinations were exactly correct. She opened her eyes just in time to see two hands darting towards her armpits. It was even worse than she feared as both hands dug into her smooth hollows. Fantasy let out a glass shattering scream before melting back into panicked, rapid laughter. His fingers were skilled, and their target was especially vulnerable.
He eased up for a few seconds and leaned in extremely close. All she could see was the growth on his cheek as he whispered to her. “I'm sure you know, ticklish laughter is actually a panic response. Tying you up only increases your panic, and makes it soo much worse!” She giggled slightly at his hot breath in her hear. She hoped he wouldn't notice.
He noticed. Her giggle was high pitched, yet soft. She was certain she could see him grin just from his cheek. “My my, you are ticklish aren't you? Here, try some more…” And he blew deliberately into her ear. She tried scrunching her neck into her shoulder as she giggled a little louder. Her mind was screaming to make him stop, but her heart was demanding more, almost begging. He switched ears, and she wiggled at the hips and shoulders, giggling sweetly as she attempted escape.
Maybe she should tell him to stay there, or tickle her neck. She loved neck tickles. She opened her mouth to speak and just then exploded. His hands dug into her ribs at this same moment. She bucked like a bronco to get him off of her, but he held on tight, sitting up as he tortured her bare ribs. “I thought you'd be a girl who loves surprises!”
She was panicking too much to even try to counter him. She let out short bursts of intense laughter between breaths, and spat “Fuck yohohohohoou!” Between guffaws. Just then the fuel cell made a horrible sounding buzzing noise. Her tickler looked both irritated and pleased somehow, and taunted “Now Fantasy, it burns fuel to filter out swearing! You’ve probably cost yourself about five extra minutes!”
She almost cried as she began laughing again, apologizing and begging him to spare her the extra time. His fingers began playfully counting her ribs, making her squeak and cackle like a ticklish piano. Fantasy threw her head back and laughed, hoping that just giving in would shorten her suffering. Every time she resisted, he only made it worse.
This is what she thought as his hands returned to goosing her sides, and gently scratching her smooth bare skin. She was whispering to herself in her head “Don't fight it, just give in…” and laughed, leaning into it. He took two fingers on the edges of her belly and wiggled them, moving her tummy underneath them. Her laughter went frantic and she told herself “You can take it...just let go.”
Eventually, her concentration broke again, and her mind screamed “LET ME OUT!!!” as he began pinching her hips and tickling along her pantyline. She thrashed so hard that her coffee table moved, but the ties held fast on her wrists. She tried again, but this time the coffee table moved farther back and she was even more stretched and vulnerable. She shouted in frustration “Oh shihihihittt! Come on! Eek!” And laughed in a panicked frenzy of cackles and screams.
She was on the verge of tears when he gave her another break. She begged through labored breaths “Please...I don't know how much more I can take. Let me out...please!” Her sides were aching from laughter, her hair was a mess and she was starting to sweat along her back and under her ropes.
He lovingly helped her get the hair out of her face and wiped her brow of sweat. He cupped her chin in a way that made her feel so in his control. Safe, or in mortal danger at his whim. Now, it was safe. She tilted her cheek into his palm and forearm involuntarily. And he said softly “Getting there Fantasy, but there is a long way to go yet. Ok?”
Fantasy nodded meekly, but the second he released her chin and her head fell back on the pillow she was determined. She couldn't break for him. He thought he already won, treating her like that. It wasn't so bad, it was even fun. She couldn’t be broken like that.
She heard a pen uncap while these thoughts ran through her head. Her heart froze. She had only experienced a pen once before, and she handled it badly. Worse than badly, horrible. Except that time she had a safeword, and her tickler started with it when she was stronger.
Her breathing picked up and her heart was pounding against her chest wall. She strained to see her feet, but thanks to the ottoman and the angle her legs were at, she couldn't see past her ankles. She saw the top of his hair, and strained to see around the Ottoman. This was worse than being blindfolded. Then it started. An electric shock fired up her leg and into her spine as the ball point touched her sole.
She screeched like a bird before devolving into sweet thoughtless laughter. It wasn't about giving in anymore, forcing the laughter out took so much effort that it almost made her forget about the pen making tiny circles above her heel, and then in her arch.
Almost, her brain may have forgotten it's ticklish agony for a moment, but her nerves certainly didn't. As she fought desperately to breathe through the ticklish assault, her feet were flailing everywhere, making her tormentor's life difficult. Finally, he seized a foot by the pad under the toes and forced her toes back. He positioned his forearm between her arches to keep them still, and resumed drawing.
Fantasy slammed her eyes shut, dug her nails into her palms and screamed in desperate, but musical laughter. Her ankle tried to wiggled in his grip, her toes tried to curl, and she tried covering one foot with the other. Nothing worked, as the pen made its wicked path across her taut, helpless soles.
After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped and gave her another breather. Her hair was matted with sweat, and her muscles ached from straining against her bonds. Her stomach was the worst, the forced laughter was straining it most of all. Then she gasped in shock and terror.
She looked down to see him gently massaging her stomach, exactly where it hurt. He had to be an experienced tickler, after all. He said softly “Just relax, and enjoy this. Don't even think about what happens to your other foot,” She gulped, he had to mention that! It was absurd that all that occurred on only one foot.
Her break was all too short, as he returned to her feet the moment her breath returned to normal. She didn't even try to beg this time, she knew it would be useless. Instead, she looked upwards at her bound hands and tried to keep her breathing normal as long as possible. She yelped the minute he seized her other foot, and her composure crumbled from there.
She began laughing before the pen touched her sole, but she went crazy once it did. He traced the same tiny shapes as on her other foot, focusing the torment on one small area at a time. This torture didn't seem to last as long, probably because he started by immobilizing her foot. A few seconds later he was straddling her waist, wiggling his fingers over her underarms.
“Do you like the anticipation fantasy? Like staring at a gift, wondering what's inside before you open it?” She shook her head, trying to keep her mouth closed as she giggled in frightened anticipation. Just as she finally tore her eyes away he dove into her underarms with his fingers and she arched her back and wailed with laughter.
Fantasy had been focusing so much on blocking out the tortures on her feet, that her underarms were extra sensitive again. She fought like a wildcat to bring her arms down, but her efforts were only repaid in spidering fingers and sore shoulders. Something about the underarms just makes the body feel invaded as they are being tickled, and that feeling is only worse when she can't lower her arms to stop the torture!
Fantasy finally begged again. She begged for mercy, for a break, another spot, but most of all just for him to stop! She got a slight reprieve as he teased her, and lessened the intensity. He started at her elbow, and traced down her inner arms right before her underarms. She giggled to herself through closed lips and started to lose control each time towards the end. Now he taunted “Wanna play a game?”
She asked him through giggles “Can I say no? Hehehe…” He teased as he continued the tracing “Of course! But if you don't want to play, we can just keep torturing you…” She said in a squeaky voice “I wanna play! I wanna play!” He smirked, this was too easy.
“Here are the rules. I trace your arms like this, and you can't open your mouth to laugh until I’m IN your armpits. You win, you can tickle me until the battery is charged.” She looked at him suspiciously as a single finger traced each underarm, making her giggle “And if yohohohou win?” His smirk grew three sizes in that moment…
“I wreck you.”
The statement was about what she expected, after all that was her night so far, but then came the kicker: “With two tools you haven't felt yet. And they will demolish you.” she blew a bit of hair out of her face, finding her old defiance “I can take it!”
He chuckled “I hoped you would say that. Now, you'll get three tries. Best 2/3.” She nodded, and he said ominously “Let's begin…”
He began by tracing a single finger down her inner biceps. Fantasy was trying not to wiggle, and practically snorting, but she resisted the urge to let out her giggles. She made it...until he started tracing her underarms. He was tracing circles, going around her entire hollow when she finally gave voice to her laughter, and arched her back in an attempt to protect them. She giggled quickly as the circles shrank. Once she was laughing steadily, he went back up for round two. That wasn't so bad, she could do this.
Fantasy shut her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. She strained to keep her mouth shut, and resisted letting out her chuckles as the fingers worked their way down. But then...there was a second finger. This wasn’t part of the deal...no no no no no! She couldn't do this!
She protested “Hehehehehey! That's cheating!” He made a loud buzzing noise “You lose! That's one and one! Now, let's warm you up for the tiebreaker!” He quickly spidered his fingers into her bare underarms. She laughed heartily, protesting that he cheated before the tiebreaker began.
He began using all of his fingers, tickling,with the gentlest of touches. Even with a light touch, Fantasy knew that she had already lost. He wasn't even halfway down, and she could feel her lips involuntarily parting to let her giggles escape. Once he got halfway down, his fingers sped up and Fantasy let out a belly laugh that could have deafened a cannoneer. He gloated as he attacked her smooth hollows mercilessly “I win! Guess who is gonna get wrecked?”
Fantasy couldn't even talk from her panicked laughter, and her fear knowing that there was still worse to come. He gave her another break and rummaged through his toolkit. Finally, he came up with something that resembled a pink sponge, except it almost looked like a piece if meat and had a hand loop on one side. He showed it to her “The elves call this reindeer tongue. No reindeer were harmed to make it, but it is lethal to ticklish feet, are you ready?”
Fantasy had no chance to protest or beg. He immediately began scrubbing her feet with the rough, yet soft reindeer tongue. It was the worst ticklish sensation she had felt in her life. It wasn't like a brush, with millions,of soft bristles. This was like a million firm, tiny fingertips probing every detail of her hyper sensitive soles. Fantasy lost it, and threw her head back into her pillow repeatedly. She screamed like a banshee, and finally devolved into helpless and uncontrolled laughter. She wouldn't make it. This was too much. She fell from laughing at the top of her lungs to silent laughter in three seconds flat. Then it stopped.
As she caught her breath, he gave her an out to put off the last tool. “We're almost done. I can give you the last tool, which is even meaner than the last. Or…” She practically choked out “Anything...anything else. Please!” He chuckled to himself “Or I can tickle you with my tongue...are you sure that's your final answer?” She looked horrified, but nodded quickly. He leaned over her and got to work. She knew he'd get every spot, working his way to her unbearably ticklish feet.
He was wagging his tongue over her exposed underarm, and inching closer. He looked her dead in the eye the whole way. Those deep, milk chocolate brown, sadistic eyes...She busted out laughing, and begged him for every inch that he closed between predator and prey. That is, until the last one.
Suddenly, they were interrupted. The elves were standing over her and looking at her tickler. The older looking elf said in his squeaky voice “We're all done, we just got word that the big man is ten minutes out. You better hurry up, no more goofing around.” He nodded, and they left.
Fantasy said through labored breaths “This...was goofing around? Hehehe Oh God…Wait? What are you doing? Stop!” What he was doing, was threading tinsel through her beautiful toes. The sensation tickled enough that she knew she was doomed just with the set up.
As the tinsel glided through her toes he said “Your literal tongue lashing will have to wait. We are pressed for time. Don't worry beautiful. If you aren't having fun, this will all feel like a dream tomorrow.” She couldn't take anymore, she was done. The tinsel was threaded through all 10 of her toes now and he counted down. “3...2…”
“No! Please! Mercy! I CAHAHAHAHAHA----” And that was the last thing she remembered as he yanked the tinsel on the long journey between her toes. She laughed and writhed, trying to wiggle her feet away to no avail. The tinsel made its tortorous path, and just as it completed its trip, the battery chirped. It was full.
Fantasy awoke with a start. She could still feel the tickling fingers all over her, and the dreaded “reindeer tongue” on her soles. She realized all of a sudden that she was dressed in her own pajamas, her favorite ones. They had penguins skiing on them. She put on her slippers over her socks and walked out to her christmas tree. All of the gifts she had bought for her friends and family were wrapped. There was even a neatly wrapped gift from Santa in the center of it all.
She walked to her end table and found one cookie left and an empty glass of milk. There was also a note.
Dear Fantasy,
Thanks so much for helping fuel my sleigh! I was running on snorts when I got here! The cookies were so good that I left the last one for you. Hope my little helpers didn’t scare you. They can be mischievous but they are lots of fun and very helpful! Say hello to your family for me, and Merry Christmas!
Your friend, Saint Niklaus
P.S. My big helper really liked you. He said he left you a present in your stocking. Wanted me to tell you.
Fantasy excitedly emptied her stocking but found nothing telling until a lightbulb in her head went off. She sat down and pulled her feet up quickly, tugging her socks at the same time. She looked at the soles of her feet and found on the left:
Merry Christmas. See you at New Years?
And on the right:
914-555-1234
XOXO- Damon
Just then the doorbell rang, and she threw her socks on to greet her guests. Not before jotting down the number...
But enough about me and shamelessly peddling the event i made, the girl you have all been waiting for, drum roll please....Fantasy Play!
A Fantastic Festival of Christmas Fantasy
It was a cold and stormy night in the Canadian hills. Fantasy had just gotten out of the car and rushed inside, her arms loaded with bags. The short walk from her detached garage to her house was quite enough to cover Fantasy in snow. Once inside her warm home, she instantly shed her scarf, gloves and hat before dropping her shopping bags. It was only as she kicked her boots off that Fantasy saw two elves, standing on each other's shoulders right in front of her.
Before she could even scream, the elf on top blew a fine, glittering powder out of his palm and into Fantasy's face. She teetered for a moment, and fell back into several cushy, red pillows trimmed with white. The elf on top hopped down and said in a comical, high pitched voice “She's all yours. Make sure the fuel cell is on before you start. We’ll get to work wrapping her gifts.” The man they were addressing was sitting at her couch with his back to them, observing the fire with a glass of coquito.
“Thank you gentlemen, I'll get right to work.” The man stood up, he was well above average height and had an athletic build. His face had a few days’ growth and a tired but genuine smile in the firelight. This was the easiest community service ever. He would have done it even if he wasn't offered five years on the “nice” list.
A few minutes later, Fantasy woke up to find herself on her rug, by the fireplace. She tried to sit up, but found that she couldn't. Her feet were tied up at the ankle on an ottoman, and still clad in her wool red and green socks. The rest of her clothes however were nowhere to be found. She was wearing only her red bra and green panties. Her hands were stretched tight over her head, and tied at the wrists and elbows. She looked up at her smiling captor and panicked. She blurted out “Who the hell are you? Get out of my house!”
He raised a hand in silence and said softly “Let's just say I'm a friend of Santa's. He needs your laughter to fuel his sleigh. I'm here to collect.” He knelt and unrolled a set of tools. Fantasy retorted “Christmas cheer makes the sleigh fly! Everyone knows that. Who are you really?”
He wasted no time, and began to slowly trace a finger around her belly in circles. She then noticed an object on her end table where she always left Santa cookies. It looked like a recording device, and there was a blinking red light on. As he tickled a little harder, she started to giggle a bit. She saw the light get brighter.
She tried to reason with him “W...wait! Hehehe! I need to make cookies! Ahh!” He began to gently knead her tummy as she spoke. “The elves are baking right now. They let me in and put you to sleep. They're wrapping your gifts too. They are doing their part for you, so you do your part for Santa! Tickle tickle!”
She cackled loudly as he began to dig into her stomach. His fingertips were skilled and experienced, and her belly was very ticklish. What made it worse was that she couldn't fight back or protect herself. She hadn’t been tied in so long. This was going to be bad…
Her mysterious tickler goosed her sides, making her squeal and thrash her hips from side to side, away from one tickling hand and into the other. Fantasy fixed her eyes on the fuel cell. When would it be done? Could she take it? Suddenly that no longer mattered as she felt her socks slipping off.
“Nonononono! Please no!” She pleaded. Her feet were her absolute worst spot, and she couldn't handle this yet. It didn't matter, as seconds later her socks fell to the floor, and she felt the hot air of the fire on them, as well as hands resting there. She exhaled sharply at his touch, and squealed as he started gently wiggling his fingers into her arches.
Fantasy turned her head to the side and laughed loudly, trying to muffle the sound in her shoulder. Her tickler saw this and said “Oh Fantasy, no hiding your laughs or this will take longer!” Just then, as he held back her toes and tickled the pad underneath she remembered. She loved being tickled, and this skilled, merciless stranger was damn good at it. Not to mention he was easy on the eyes...she didn't want him to be done no matter how much she begged.
Fantasy’s soles were in agony as he tortured under her toes, but that was nothing compared to what was coming. After maybe a few minutes, he abandoned her toes and started to lobster claw her knees. Her legs shook up and down, trying to escape. For all her efforts at escape, the only release poor Fantasy had was laughter. So she laughed her heart and lungs out. She laughed as he scratched and spidered her inner thighs, she laughed when he pinched her hips and wiggled his fingers into her “leg pits”, and she laughed like a Hyena as he tortured her navel with a feather.
Her back arched the moment the feather touched her exposed belly, and only hit the floor again when he withdrew it. As she lay there laughing, he twirled the feather in his hand “Would you believe all my toys came from the North pole? Snowy owl feather. I’ve also got a polar bear hair brush for those pits, and a reindeer antler pen for when we get back to those soles.” He winked and licked his lips.
Fantasy pulled at her bonds and whimpered “How much more?” He laughed and retorted with sadistic glee “Oh, we have a long way to go beautiful!”
Damon dropped the feather, and immediately picked up the “Polar bear fur” brush. They were round, and about the size of his palms. He slowly lowered them towards her armpits as he taunted “I hope those pits are ticklish! Tickle tickle!” She started giggling instinctively at the approach, but couldn't take her eyes off of them.
When the brushes finally made contact, she jerked her shoulders to each side, desperately trying to escape. She let out a loud gasp that emptied her lungs, and descended into silent laughter for a few seconds. She recovered her breath after five agonizing seconds and let out a loud belly laugh that even frightened her tormentor for a moment.
He circled the brushes a little slower now, and his wicked smile returned. He teased “Sorry cutie, but silent laughter will only make this take longer, think of that as five seconds just for fun!” That was too much, her mind was focusing on the end of this all, and the idea that some time wasn't counting only worsened her panic. She tried to beg, but it came out as a pout “Nohoho! No! Nahahahahaooooo!”
After perhaps a minute of using the brushes, he dropped them audibly. Fantasy knew better than to expect relief hearing this. A man taking a break would place them down gently. She knew a drop only meant one thing: fingers, coming in fast!
Her inclinations were exactly correct. She opened her eyes just in time to see two hands darting towards her armpits. It was even worse than she feared as both hands dug into her smooth hollows. Fantasy let out a glass shattering scream before melting back into panicked, rapid laughter. His fingers were skilled, and their target was especially vulnerable.
He eased up for a few seconds and leaned in extremely close. All she could see was the growth on his cheek as he whispered to her. “I'm sure you know, ticklish laughter is actually a panic response. Tying you up only increases your panic, and makes it soo much worse!” She giggled slightly at his hot breath in her hear. She hoped he wouldn't notice.
He noticed. Her giggle was high pitched, yet soft. She was certain she could see him grin just from his cheek. “My my, you are ticklish aren't you? Here, try some more…” And he blew deliberately into her ear. She tried scrunching her neck into her shoulder as she giggled a little louder. Her mind was screaming to make him stop, but her heart was demanding more, almost begging. He switched ears, and she wiggled at the hips and shoulders, giggling sweetly as she attempted escape.
Maybe she should tell him to stay there, or tickle her neck. She loved neck tickles. She opened her mouth to speak and just then exploded. His hands dug into her ribs at this same moment. She bucked like a bronco to get him off of her, but he held on tight, sitting up as he tortured her bare ribs. “I thought you'd be a girl who loves surprises!”
She was panicking too much to even try to counter him. She let out short bursts of intense laughter between breaths, and spat “Fuck yohohohohoou!” Between guffaws. Just then the fuel cell made a horrible sounding buzzing noise. Her tickler looked both irritated and pleased somehow, and taunted “Now Fantasy, it burns fuel to filter out swearing! You’ve probably cost yourself about five extra minutes!”
She almost cried as she began laughing again, apologizing and begging him to spare her the extra time. His fingers began playfully counting her ribs, making her squeak and cackle like a ticklish piano. Fantasy threw her head back and laughed, hoping that just giving in would shorten her suffering. Every time she resisted, he only made it worse.
This is what she thought as his hands returned to goosing her sides, and gently scratching her smooth bare skin. She was whispering to herself in her head “Don't fight it, just give in…” and laughed, leaning into it. He took two fingers on the edges of her belly and wiggled them, moving her tummy underneath them. Her laughter went frantic and she told herself “You can take it...just let go.”
Eventually, her concentration broke again, and her mind screamed “LET ME OUT!!!” as he began pinching her hips and tickling along her pantyline. She thrashed so hard that her coffee table moved, but the ties held fast on her wrists. She tried again, but this time the coffee table moved farther back and she was even more stretched and vulnerable. She shouted in frustration “Oh shihihihittt! Come on! Eek!” And laughed in a panicked frenzy of cackles and screams.
She was on the verge of tears when he gave her another break. She begged through labored breaths “Please...I don't know how much more I can take. Let me out...please!” Her sides were aching from laughter, her hair was a mess and she was starting to sweat along her back and under her ropes.
He lovingly helped her get the hair out of her face and wiped her brow of sweat. He cupped her chin in a way that made her feel so in his control. Safe, or in mortal danger at his whim. Now, it was safe. She tilted her cheek into his palm and forearm involuntarily. And he said softly “Getting there Fantasy, but there is a long way to go yet. Ok?”
Fantasy nodded meekly, but the second he released her chin and her head fell back on the pillow she was determined. She couldn't break for him. He thought he already won, treating her like that. It wasn't so bad, it was even fun. She couldn’t be broken like that.
She heard a pen uncap while these thoughts ran through her head. Her heart froze. She had only experienced a pen once before, and she handled it badly. Worse than badly, horrible. Except that time she had a safeword, and her tickler started with it when she was stronger.
Her breathing picked up and her heart was pounding against her chest wall. She strained to see her feet, but thanks to the ottoman and the angle her legs were at, she couldn't see past her ankles. She saw the top of his hair, and strained to see around the Ottoman. This was worse than being blindfolded. Then it started. An electric shock fired up her leg and into her spine as the ball point touched her sole.
She screeched like a bird before devolving into sweet thoughtless laughter. It wasn't about giving in anymore, forcing the laughter out took so much effort that it almost made her forget about the pen making tiny circles above her heel, and then in her arch.
Almost, her brain may have forgotten it's ticklish agony for a moment, but her nerves certainly didn't. As she fought desperately to breathe through the ticklish assault, her feet were flailing everywhere, making her tormentor's life difficult. Finally, he seized a foot by the pad under the toes and forced her toes back. He positioned his forearm between her arches to keep them still, and resumed drawing.
Fantasy slammed her eyes shut, dug her nails into her palms and screamed in desperate, but musical laughter. Her ankle tried to wiggled in his grip, her toes tried to curl, and she tried covering one foot with the other. Nothing worked, as the pen made its wicked path across her taut, helpless soles.
After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped and gave her another breather. Her hair was matted with sweat, and her muscles ached from straining against her bonds. Her stomach was the worst, the forced laughter was straining it most of all. Then she gasped in shock and terror.
She looked down to see him gently massaging her stomach, exactly where it hurt. He had to be an experienced tickler, after all. He said softly “Just relax, and enjoy this. Don't even think about what happens to your other foot,” She gulped, he had to mention that! It was absurd that all that occurred on only one foot.
Her break was all too short, as he returned to her feet the moment her breath returned to normal. She didn't even try to beg this time, she knew it would be useless. Instead, she looked upwards at her bound hands and tried to keep her breathing normal as long as possible. She yelped the minute he seized her other foot, and her composure crumbled from there.
She began laughing before the pen touched her sole, but she went crazy once it did. He traced the same tiny shapes as on her other foot, focusing the torment on one small area at a time. This torture didn't seem to last as long, probably because he started by immobilizing her foot. A few seconds later he was straddling her waist, wiggling his fingers over her underarms.
“Do you like the anticipation fantasy? Like staring at a gift, wondering what's inside before you open it?” She shook her head, trying to keep her mouth closed as she giggled in frightened anticipation. Just as she finally tore her eyes away he dove into her underarms with his fingers and she arched her back and wailed with laughter.
Fantasy had been focusing so much on blocking out the tortures on her feet, that her underarms were extra sensitive again. She fought like a wildcat to bring her arms down, but her efforts were only repaid in spidering fingers and sore shoulders. Something about the underarms just makes the body feel invaded as they are being tickled, and that feeling is only worse when she can't lower her arms to stop the torture!
Fantasy finally begged again. She begged for mercy, for a break, another spot, but most of all just for him to stop! She got a slight reprieve as he teased her, and lessened the intensity. He started at her elbow, and traced down her inner arms right before her underarms. She giggled to herself through closed lips and started to lose control each time towards the end. Now he taunted “Wanna play a game?”
She asked him through giggles “Can I say no? Hehehe…” He teased as he continued the tracing “Of course! But if you don't want to play, we can just keep torturing you…” She said in a squeaky voice “I wanna play! I wanna play!” He smirked, this was too easy.
“Here are the rules. I trace your arms like this, and you can't open your mouth to laugh until I’m IN your armpits. You win, you can tickle me until the battery is charged.” She looked at him suspiciously as a single finger traced each underarm, making her giggle “And if yohohohou win?” His smirk grew three sizes in that moment…
“I wreck you.”
The statement was about what she expected, after all that was her night so far, but then came the kicker: “With two tools you haven't felt yet. And they will demolish you.” she blew a bit of hair out of her face, finding her old defiance “I can take it!”
He chuckled “I hoped you would say that. Now, you'll get three tries. Best 2/3.” She nodded, and he said ominously “Let's begin…”
He began by tracing a single finger down her inner biceps. Fantasy was trying not to wiggle, and practically snorting, but she resisted the urge to let out her giggles. She made it...until he started tracing her underarms. He was tracing circles, going around her entire hollow when she finally gave voice to her laughter, and arched her back in an attempt to protect them. She giggled quickly as the circles shrank. Once she was laughing steadily, he went back up for round two. That wasn't so bad, she could do this.
Fantasy shut her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. She strained to keep her mouth shut, and resisted letting out her chuckles as the fingers worked their way down. But then...there was a second finger. This wasn’t part of the deal...no no no no no! She couldn't do this!
She protested “Hehehehehey! That's cheating!” He made a loud buzzing noise “You lose! That's one and one! Now, let's warm you up for the tiebreaker!” He quickly spidered his fingers into her bare underarms. She laughed heartily, protesting that he cheated before the tiebreaker began.
He began using all of his fingers, tickling,with the gentlest of touches. Even with a light touch, Fantasy knew that she had already lost. He wasn't even halfway down, and she could feel her lips involuntarily parting to let her giggles escape. Once he got halfway down, his fingers sped up and Fantasy let out a belly laugh that could have deafened a cannoneer. He gloated as he attacked her smooth hollows mercilessly “I win! Guess who is gonna get wrecked?”
Fantasy couldn't even talk from her panicked laughter, and her fear knowing that there was still worse to come. He gave her another break and rummaged through his toolkit. Finally, he came up with something that resembled a pink sponge, except it almost looked like a piece if meat and had a hand loop on one side. He showed it to her “The elves call this reindeer tongue. No reindeer were harmed to make it, but it is lethal to ticklish feet, are you ready?”
Fantasy had no chance to protest or beg. He immediately began scrubbing her feet with the rough, yet soft reindeer tongue. It was the worst ticklish sensation she had felt in her life. It wasn't like a brush, with millions,of soft bristles. This was like a million firm, tiny fingertips probing every detail of her hyper sensitive soles. Fantasy lost it, and threw her head back into her pillow repeatedly. She screamed like a banshee, and finally devolved into helpless and uncontrolled laughter. She wouldn't make it. This was too much. She fell from laughing at the top of her lungs to silent laughter in three seconds flat. Then it stopped.
As she caught her breath, he gave her an out to put off the last tool. “We're almost done. I can give you the last tool, which is even meaner than the last. Or…” She practically choked out “Anything...anything else. Please!” He chuckled to himself “Or I can tickle you with my tongue...are you sure that's your final answer?” She looked horrified, but nodded quickly. He leaned over her and got to work. She knew he'd get every spot, working his way to her unbearably ticklish feet.
He was wagging his tongue over her exposed underarm, and inching closer. He looked her dead in the eye the whole way. Those deep, milk chocolate brown, sadistic eyes...She busted out laughing, and begged him for every inch that he closed between predator and prey. That is, until the last one.
Suddenly, they were interrupted. The elves were standing over her and looking at her tickler. The older looking elf said in his squeaky voice “We're all done, we just got word that the big man is ten minutes out. You better hurry up, no more goofing around.” He nodded, and they left.
Fantasy said through labored breaths “This...was goofing around? Hehehe Oh God…Wait? What are you doing? Stop!” What he was doing, was threading tinsel through her beautiful toes. The sensation tickled enough that she knew she was doomed just with the set up.
As the tinsel glided through her toes he said “Your literal tongue lashing will have to wait. We are pressed for time. Don't worry beautiful. If you aren't having fun, this will all feel like a dream tomorrow.” She couldn't take anymore, she was done. The tinsel was threaded through all 10 of her toes now and he counted down. “3...2…”
“No! Please! Mercy! I CAHAHAHAHAHA----” And that was the last thing she remembered as he yanked the tinsel on the long journey between her toes. She laughed and writhed, trying to wiggle her feet away to no avail. The tinsel made its tortorous path, and just as it completed its trip, the battery chirped. It was full.
Fantasy awoke with a start. She could still feel the tickling fingers all over her, and the dreaded “reindeer tongue” on her soles. She realized all of a sudden that she was dressed in her own pajamas, her favorite ones. They had penguins skiing on them. She put on her slippers over her socks and walked out to her christmas tree. All of the gifts she had bought for her friends and family were wrapped. There was even a neatly wrapped gift from Santa in the center of it all.
She walked to her end table and found one cookie left and an empty glass of milk. There was also a note.
Dear Fantasy,
Thanks so much for helping fuel my sleigh! I was running on snorts when I got here! The cookies were so good that I left the last one for you. Hope my little helpers didn’t scare you. They can be mischievous but they are lots of fun and very helpful! Say hello to your family for me, and Merry Christmas!
Your friend, Saint Niklaus
P.S. My big helper really liked you. He said he left you a present in your stocking. Wanted me to tell you.
Fantasy excitedly emptied her stocking but found nothing telling until a lightbulb in her head went off. She sat down and pulled her feet up quickly, tugging her socks at the same time. She looked at the soles of her feet and found on the left:
Merry Christmas. See you at New Years?
And on the right:
914-555-1234
XOXO- Damon
Just then the doorbell rang, and she threw her socks on to greet her guests. Not before jotting down the number...
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