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Ye olde tickle story (original author unknown) but somewhat enhanced by me

tiberius

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All was quiet in the King's court as the castle guards ushered in the beautiful blushing maiden known to others in the village as Karen. She was blushing because before this moment, she had only seen the king from afar, and now his guards were hustling her to His Royal Majesty himself for breaking the King’s law.

"Woman, my tax collector tells me that you have failed to pay your fair share of the Royal taxes. Do you not wish to please your king?" King Albert said with a haughty tone.

"Your Majesty, of course I wish to please you, but I have no money, and it is known throughout the land that your taxes are by far the highest. Some of your subjects feel this policy is quite unfair.” Karen spoke and her voice shook as she feared the King's reply, and rightfully so.

"Do you wish to see your King impoverished? Do you think that I would place a burden upon my people too great to bear? Certainly, you are aware that I am a fair man." the King bellowed.

"Do you call confiscating HALF of our earnings a FAIR tax? I think not." Karen was beginning to get her courage back, verging on insolence.

"To show you I AM a fair King, I will NOT cut your tongue out for that last remark! I know full well you have lied and you have possession of enough funds to pay your fair share of the Royal Tax. You are just refusing to pay which is a crime usually punishable by death. But I will not demand that punishment. I will prove my generosity to you. Simply pay your share of the Royal Tax and I will let you go."

Believing now that the King did not want to see her executed, Karen persisted in her defiance. “Yes, I will admit I did not tell the truth, but that is because they are MY coins! I toiled in the orchards for them, and you do not deserve half! Nothing you can do to me will make me reveal the secret place in which I have hidden my coins”.

The King was outraged by this disrespect. Having one of his subjects lie to him and go unpunished would set a bad precedent. Neither could she be allowed to avoid paying the tax. But he still felt obligated not to have this woman beheaded. Besides, he could not collect his money until he knew where it was hidden. The King had an idea for making Karen reveal the location of his tax money...he would have her tickled until she begged to give him ALL her money. “I will not harm one hair on your head, but you WILL surrender your purse to me. Guards! Take her to the dungeon and instruct the dungeon master to have this woman stripped and locked in the stocks. Also, fix cuffs upon her wrists and fix her arms in a position above her head."

Karen was no longer blushing. Nor was she defiant. She had spoken without thinking and offended a most powerful man. Fear started to grip her as the guards led her out of the Royal Court and into the depths of the castle. She did not know what fate awaited her. When they reached the bottom of the circular stone staircase, she was led down a dark passageway, one guard in front of her, the other behind. Smoking torches carried by the guards provided the light and eerie shadows were cast on the cold stone walls.

The trio walked for what seemed forever, before stopping at a heavy wooden door. The lead guard pounded his gloved fist on the door to announce their presence. Shortly, the sound of rusty bolts being thrown and the creaking of rusty hinges echoed in the corridor as the door slowly opened. Before her stood Claudius, the King’s dungeon master. The guards ushered Karen into the chamber and informed Claudius of the King’s instructions.

Karen’s heart pounded as she stood there while the guards spoke to the dungeon master. She quickly surveyed the room. It was warmer than the passageway through which she had just passed. The torches along the walls of the room provided heat that was a welcome change from the dank corridor. A large glowing brazier with occasional flames flickering upward also added to the warmth of the chamber. The handles of irons protruding from the red-hot coals in the brazier had their own ominous meaning. The long, wooden frame of the rack, used to stretch the limbs of its victims occupied another section of the chamber floor. Where she now stood, flanked by the guards, were the stocks that awaited her.

Suddenly, the two guards seized her and held her arms tightly as the dungeon master stripped her of her clothing, her undergarments, and her shoes and stockings. Karen struggled, but it was of no use against three strong men, bent on following their King's orders.

She soon found herself forced to sit upon a large, thick block of wood over two feet high and almost as wide on all sides anchored to the stone floor adjacent to the stocks. A wide leather strap bolted to one side of the block was placed across her lap and cinched tightly to rings on the other side. Just in front of her were the stocks. The two openings cut out of the sturdy thick oak were about a foot apart and padded with leather. The dungeon master called to the guards and motioned for one to man the stocks, the other to assist him with Karen’s legs.

The first guard to moved to the stocks and opened them by sliding up the top half in the framework. Claudius and the other guard lifted Karen's ankles and, straightening her legs, held them in the fixed lower semi-circles of the apparatus. Almost as soon as her ankles were placed there, the thud of wood on wood reverberated in the chamber as the guard lowered the top half of the stocks to the closed position. Her ankles were now encircled by the leather-lined holes. With her legs locked in place, she began to feel a greater fear than she had felt before.

Claudius continued his work according to the King’s instructions. Her wrists were bound in thick leather cuffs, each one hanging from an end of an iron bar by short lengths of chain. The bar was almost as long as her shoulders were wide. An iron hook tied to one end of a sturdy rope hanging from a pulley in the chamber’s ceiling was fixed through a ring at the bar’s center. Claudius then moved to a nearby wall and turning the handles of a wheel, took up the rope’s slack. As he did so, Karen heard the catch of the ratchet wheel fall into each tooth of the gear as it turned. With each metallic “clink” of the rotating gear, her arms were raised higher and higher until they were straight, but not painfully extended. Her fingers opened and closed, grasping at the air as she tried to loosen the grip the cuffs had on her wrists.

As the dungeon master returned, she watched him draw from his sash a black cloth, which he tied around her head, covering her eyes. All was dark.

In Karen’s darkness, she imagined how she looked to those witnesses in the chamber… her helpless body restrained in the shape of an “L” with her arms held high and shoulder-width apart above her head, legs extended and held fast straight out before her parallel to the floor. Her bare feet, far enough apart so as to isolate one from other, were dangling just over the outer edge of the stock’s openings. Except for the limited movement of her feet and turning her shoulders slightly from side to side, there was no freedom to be had. Claudius had done as he was told and began to wonder what he should do next. At that moment she heard the door and became aware of a familiar voice. It was the King!

"Thank you for preparing this wench for me Claudius. I shall interrogate the prisoner personally," The King announced as a flicker of a smile ran across his face. "Bring me something upon which to sit and place it there,” he said, motioning, “and then everyone leave!" Karen heard someone placing something on the floor near the stocks and then footsteps as the guards and the dungeon master walked toward the door. She again heard the groaning hinges open and then close as she was left alone with The King. He walked over to where Karen was helplessly bound, hand and foot...whereupon his tone became sinister.

"So, you think you're so strong...you cannot be broken...we shall see my little serf. You shall not be so impertinent upon your departure from this place. You have the King's Oath upon that!"

"Sir, I am most shy, and have found great discomfort in you viewing my nakedness." Karen said sheepishly.

"You know not what discomfort is...but you shall!" And with that, Karen began to feel what seemed to be a feather caressing the inside of her arm. She giggled a bit, but as the feather continued to trace lower and lower, she knew it was going to reach her armpit. She was shocked. "Is this how the King will try to make me divulge the location of my purse?" she thought to herself. Indeed, the King had a very full day planned for the beautiful Karen.

The King's feather was now making small circles in the crux of Karen's armpit and she was finding it to be most uncomfortable. "Your Majesty...that tickles! Please stop! Heeee....Heeee." To Karen's horror there was no reply, but the feather continued down her sides, ever so lightly grazing over her tender ribs, tickling more her skin than the ribs themselves.

"Oh Sir, I beg of you, you are driving me to madness! Please stop!" He did not. Karen felt the feather gliding from underarm to underarm...traveling over her nipples along the way. Her skin was crawling. It was most unnerving to Karen not to be able to pull her arms down, but there was nothing she could do about it.

The King then started to work the feather around Karen's navel...guiding it over her heaving stomach. This was almost more than Karen could bear and her plea became louder!

"Oh PLEASE!!! STOP!! HEEEE HEEE HAAAAA HAAAAA..."

This pleased the King, but he knew full well that he had not yet played his trump card. While continuing to tickle Karen's stomach with the feather, the King began tapping on the stocks. Karen felt the feather leave her stomach...all she saw was darkness, her blindfold allowed not a ray of light to pierce it, so she certainly could not see what the King was doing. All she could do was feel the feather now moving down her right leg, over her knee and gliding down her calf. Karen knew this was a hint of the awful torment to come. She grimaced at the thought of anyone tickling her feet and began to violently struggle in her bonds.

The feather lifted from her leg. She heard the King adjust the chair that had been provided for him. As he sat down, he retrieved another feather from his belt. He smiled and admired the beautiful shape of Karen’s white feet. Had she not been blindfolded she would have seen the King sitting on the opposite side of the stocks, facing her exposed pink soles and delicate toes. But she could see nothing. All of a sudden...Karen felt a feather gliding across the tips of the toes of EACH foot. “This was going to be sheer, unadulterated torture!” she thought. Karen's feet were by far the most ticklish part of her body...and the King was just starting!

"NOOOOOO! HEEEE...HAAAAAA....OOOOOHHHHH! STTTTOOOOOOOPPP!"

That her feet were so sensitive pleased the King greatly...and he began to run the feathers all over the tops of poor Karen's feet...and down the outside edges of her feet as well. Like tongues, the feathers licked hungrily at the soles of her feet in long swirling strokes from her heels to her toes and back down again and again.

"OOHHHHH....HAAAA HAAAA HAAAA, NOOOO MOOOOOORE!"

The King was rather enjoying himself at this point; he had no idea that tormenting a beautiful woman this way could be so pleasant. Then he decided now was the time to employ a new tactic. The King turned the feathers around, so the hard pointed end of the quills were poised just inches away from the bottoms of her feet. Slowly, he dragged the instruments of torment on her feet moving them up and down and around in circles on her helpless soles. Back and forth, he moved the quill ends of the feathers beneath her toes, then down the outer edges of her feet, around her heels and back up the soft skin of her arches. She flexed and rotated her feet in every direction possible trying to avoid the relentless tickling but the stocks held her ankles firmly. Karen's body arched and the stocks creaked as she desperately tried to pull her feet through the small openings to no avail. Karen screamed in helpless gales of laughter. The King had never heard such a sound in his long life.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!” She screamed anew. “HAAAAAAA! HEE HEEE...HAAA! NOOOOOO!!! PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE!!!! STOP! HEE HEEE HAAAAAAAA!" "OOOOOH,

This was indeed the reaction the King was looking for. The pointed ends of the feathers kept running up and down the soles of poor Karen's feet for what seemed like days, but was merely hours. King Albert would stop periodically, but only long enough for the poor maiden to catch her breath. Her pale white skin had become pinkish in color, because she was laughing so hard...all the blood was rushing through her body. Her head was pounding and her upper torso glistened with sweat. It was a fate WORSE than death...Karen indeed believed she would just cease to exist from shortness of breath due to laughing harder than anyone had thus far in history.

When Karen had endured a total of five hours of torture with the feathers, the King announced it was time for dinner. His dinner, not hers. Karen heard the heavy door to the torture chamber close behind him. She soon fell into a deep sleep as her exhausted body was spent.

She awoke to the harsh reality of what felt like FINGERS running up and down her stomach...she began to laugh even harder than before as the fingers REALLY TICKLED! The feathers had tickled her skin...but THIS was a TOTALLY DIFFERENT sensation! MADNESS!

"I decided to ask the dungeon master and some of my men to join me here on this great occasion...where you will finally concede to pay the King's Tax." The King said in a tone that scared poor Karen.

"OOOOOOHHHHH!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! HEEE HEEEE HEEE"!

Karen thought she had reached her limit before with the feathers, especially on the soles of her feet, but no, this was not the case. She jerked like she'd been hit by lightning as pair of hands started digging into her sensitive ribcage. “Oh God”, she thought, “my life is over”. Another pair of hands grabbed Karen right above the kneecaps and she jerked hard on the stocks. She was VERY ticklish above her knees and on her inner thighs, which THAT tickler soon found out.

"Oh, I wish to join the fun too." Karen gasped as she tried to draw her breath amid unbelievable bounds of laughter. She realized that it was the King who had spoken...HE hadn't even started tickling her yet! And worst of all, only the MOST ticklish part of her body was without the attention of someone’s tickling fingers! The King would soon end that neglect, but first……

He took his seat as before at the stocks and watched his beautiful victim writhing with laughter as her tormentors continued their assaults on her ribs, stomach, and armpits and above her knees. Finally, after half an hour of watching, King Albert ordered the others to stop. He wanted Karen to concentrate her attention on what he alone was about to do to her. She knew then that he was going to resume his torment of her feet. She also knew she had withstood the feathers before…she hoped she could do it again.

But The King had something else in mind this time. His nicely manicured nails, befitting a king, made diabolical instruments for this type of torture. He struck with a vengeance. Like a spider moving up and down the bare flesh of her soles with his fingertips and nails, again and again, tickling her feet while she screamed helpless, hysterical laughter.

“This was NOT like the feathers...much, MUCH worse”, her mind screamed. Occasionally he clutched the toes of one foot and flexed them back towards the stocks. In doing so he immobilized her foot and stretched the skin of the sole taut, which would intensify the tickling sensation. Then he raked his fingers up and down and around the bottom of her struggling foot. The only cessation from the tickling was when he stopped to move his attention from one foot to the other. For Karen, it was unbearable.

HEEEEEEEE....HAAAAAAA....OOHHHHHHH..PLEEEAASSEEE.. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!NOOOOOOOOOOO MOOOOOOOOOORE!

Her will was finally broken and wanting no more of this torture, Karen relented. "I CANNOT stand any more! I WILL pay, I will pay you NOW your Majesty...my coin purse is…” Her confession was interrupted by the King’s fingers returning to her feet. PLEEEEEEAAAASSSSEE HEEEEE HEEEEEE HEEEEE HAAAAAA!" NOT THAT!!!!AHHHHH HA HAHA HA...MERCY PLEASE!!! AAAAH STOPIT!!! AH HA HA HA HAHAHA

She was shaking her head back and forth violently. Screaming in hysterical laughter while pleading for mercy.

This torment continued off and on till well past midnight as the King tickled the poor maiden into oblivion. When he finally stopped for the evening, her head sagged to one side and the bangs of her blonde hair were plastered to her forehead, sweaty. Her chest heaved up and down, trying to catch a breath. Eventually Karen began to regain her faculties.

"Maiden Karen, I have decided that you shall be exempt from all of the King's Taxes from this day forward for your kind service to the court." The King said as he removed her blindfold.

"I don't understand...what service have I given you?" Karen replied, still breathless from her torture.

"None yet.” He continued, “But you shall be my guarded prisoner and live a life of luxury in the castle. No more will you have to toil in the fields and orchards to survive. In exchange, however, at any time during the day or night that I wish to be amused, I will have my guards to bring you here to the dungeon. You will be stripped and placed in the stocks in preparation for more of what you have endured today. Because you are SO ticklish, and I have enjoyed this a great deal, I hereby decree that you shall endure the tickling torture whenever I am in the mood until I decide otherwise. I may let you go next week, next month or next year. I may never let you go. But this will be your fate for your earlier impertinence.”

Upon hearing this, Karen slipped into unconsciousness.

THE END
 
I have a copy of that story that was posted to Usenet by someone going by the name of Tickle Master, way back in '96. The victim is named Megan rather than Karen in this version, but otherwise it's pretty much the same, sparing your revisions. Just thought I'd mention who the original author may be.
 
Thanks Shem. I'll give credit to Tickle Master if I ever post the story somewhere again. 1996 is about right. I did a copy/paste from the site where I found it to Word and did a few changes and added some more descriptions. Back then I had a lot of free time in the evenings and would read it and add my own tweeks here and there. I changed the victim's name 'cause there was a woman where I was working then named Karen who I discovered through casual conversation was very ticklish and I was attracted to her (wonder why?). So in her "honor" that was one of the modifications to the original story I made. I was only able to give her an occasional poke in the ribs as I would pass her in the kitchen or copying room. But she would certainly react. And she admitted she had ticklish feet, although her feet were behind her ribs and sides above her hips in ticklishness. I let her read a hard copy of the finished product by the way to see if it might spark some curiosity about the subject. Alas, it didn't but even though we no longer work at the same place, we are in the same city and do keep in touch. Hope springs eternal.
 
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