TklDuo-Ann
2nd Level Black Feather
- Joined
- May 21, 2003
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For those who may come to this directly, check out MaxSpeer's Tickling Religious Cult thread HERE. It's what inspired this story. HOWEVER, you should keep in mind that the fact that this was inspired by that thread in no way implies that the type of activities in this story would ever be condoned. This is a STORY, not a representation of what is intended by those discussing the possibility of a group.
Philadelphia Tribune – Investigative Reports Services – Julie Foster reporting
In the midst of the City of Brotherly Love, you’d expect to find a variety of different things. You find many historical sites. You find a variety of shops and restaurants catering to every possible taste. You find people of all walks of life. And, you find a variety of cultural and religious expressions. This story explores the latest cult craze that’s sweeping not only the city, but the rest of the nation as well. It’s leader and chief minister is Rev. Max Speer. I believe that he and his followers are a danger to this nation.
This may well be my last time reporting to you, my faithful readers here in our fair city. I have infiltrated a group from which I may never be able to extract myself. It seems to have taken some sort of supernatural hold of my will and my very being. I’m smuggling out this report in hopes if warning others who may otherwise share my fate. If I succeed in saving even one, I will die in peace…IF they allow me that mercy. Lord only knows what further torments they have in mind for me.
But, I digress. Allow me to explain.
The Beginnings…
One day, Rev. Max Speer decided that it was time to do something about his long-suppressed desire to form a religious community. This community would be dedicated to the exploration and practice of tickling as a means for spiritual awakening and fulfillment. It would put forth the following principles:
1) That the Great Spirit lies within the center of joy within our being
2) That this Joy can be obtained through laughter
3) That Tickling can bring us closer to the Great Spirit
The group is known as the Vellicationists. This is their story…
Having come to the decision that it was time, at long last, to take action, Rev. Max had reached out to others who shared this vision. They discussed possibilities for specific practices and forms of expression and recruitment. They even found a location for their more public religious celebrations at an old club in the historic Society Hill area of the city. Since their original organization, the community boasts thousands of members, many regularly active at their daily services.
How could a group of this sort boast so large a congregation? To ask its members, you would think that everyone there was just waiting for something like this to come along. They would tell you that they’ve always loved the idea of tickling and being tickled and that it opened something within them that nothing else could touch. They would tell you that it truly does bring them closer to the Great Spirit dwelling in all of us. Yet, I’ve seen a different side…a more devious side that seems to take away one’s free will.
Though many members have come and gone as their outside lives allowed, a core group of well over 100 devotees have converged on the areas near the City of Brotherly Love, taking up residence and spreading their beliefs like wildfire. I’ve seen evidence that points to a nationwide (perhaps even worldwide) campaign to convert everyone with whom they come in contact…provided they are ticklish or enjoy tickling others.
Since it is well known that I have always been extremely ticklish, I wandered into areas where the cult members are known to hang out, watching for potential recruits. I’ve mentioned my ticklishness in past stories. I even staged a taste of my ticklishness for them, having an old friend sneak up and tickle my sides while I wandered through the Gallery Mall. My screech caught their attention immediately. One member, Andy, came over feigning great concern that I had been attacked. I knew I had him just looking at his eyes. The lust for tickling that I saw there was unmistakable. But, I played along. He was a complete gentleman. I could easily see how others have been so easily drawn into the trap. I was invited to meet him for dinner the following night. That’s where it all began.
We must be somewhere near the city. For, as I’ve said, services take place in the Society Hill area. I know this only because our (those of us not fully initiated) blindfolds are removed once we get to the area so as not to attract the attention of passersby. It’s about a 40-minute ride, though I don’t know if they are taking longer to throw us off. We never seem to take the same route. I’ve tried timing distances between turns. But, they’re never the same.
The place we stay appears to be in a country setting. The core members of the group all seem to live here, though they go out to various locations during the daytime. The main building is a huge old stone mansion, almost castle-like in appearance. The surrounding houses (more like cabins, really) are spaced around the grounds, which is set on a hill and surrounded on all sides by heavily forested land. There are gyms and salons in the cellar of the mansion, faithfully used to keep everyone in top condition for their ceremonies. The location has a certain familiarity to it. But, I can’t seem to place it.
What follows is my diary of my time with them. I have kept it in secret. For, as one not yet fully initiated into the group, I am allowed no outside contact nor the privilege of writing. I had to steal paper and pen from the library and smuggle them to my secret place. Rev. Max seems to know what I’m up to. But, I’ve managed to keep the diary’s location from him. It has cost me dearly. He has this power that…. Well, you’ll see.
Everyday Life With the Vellicationists…The Real Story…
Day 1:
The bait having been taken, I am to meet Andy at the Independence Brewery Pub for dinner this evening. Located at the end of the Gallery Mall, I suppose he figured it would be a safe place to me. And, indeed it will be. I’ve got backup. The same friend who staged the tickle attack with me yesterday will be sitting across from our table, monitoring everything. (Of course, he’ll be disguised differently this time.) Since the group members seem to take hygiene very seriously, I’m going to spend the day at the spa making myself as acceptable as possible to them.
Day 2:
So much for my backup. It seems that they were ready for that.
Half way through dinner, Andy began to share a bit with me about the group. Though I’d already heard much of what he told me, I played dumb and acted intrigued by the idea. I asked if there was more to it. (I truly wanted to ask him to take me then and there, but didn’t want to appear overly anxious and make him suspicious.) He seemed pleased and said that I’d have to promise to never share any of what he told me with others without permission. I agreed.
He began to tell me a bit about their lifestyle and ceremonies. In all honesty, I really was intrigued at that point. These people really believe that they can grow spiritually by tickling and being tickled. The concept fascinates me. I told him that it was likely something that I would have to experience in order to truly understand. He hesitated and seemed to be struggling with a decision. Finally, he said that he agreed. The only way I could see for myself was if he brought me here and I went through their initiation. He also said that he would have to blindfold me to protect the secrecy of the location. I agreed, giggling a bit at the simplicity of the plan.
We finished our meals and headed next door to the train station, catching the first train that came by. Once on the train, Andy made a show of placing the blindfold on me. I suppose this was mainly to keep others from thinking too much of it. In a city open to the BDSM scene, it wasn’t necessarily that unusual a site. People have seen much more here. My tail made it onto the train just as it was about to pull out of the station. I know this only because I recognized his voice as he apologized for plowing into an elderly woman in his rush.
We must have changed trains half a dozen times. I really don’t remember. The effect of the blindfold threw off my perception of everything. In fact, I suspect there may have been some sort of drug in it that kept me slightly sedated. I was so sleepy and disoriented! After the final train ride, we got into a car and drove for what seemed like hours. Though I was a little nervous, I didn’t say or do anything to show it. Andy kept asking me how I was doing and assuring me that I was safe and that the run-around was simply a precaution.
I have no idea at what point my tail lost us. When we finally arrived at our destination, my blindfold was removed. My eyesight cleared just in time to see the huge mansion at the end of the long drive. I thought that I would be introduced to Rev. Max, or at least to one of his assistants, as soon as I arrived. But, Andy explained that there was a set process and that I’d meet him in due time. I was shown to my room, a gorgeous room with Victorian décor, and locked in for the night. Though I didn’t expect to sleep a wink, I knocked off the moment I hit the pillow.
The sun is just rising now as I write this. I’m told that breakfast will be served here in my room until I am properly prepared to meet Rev. Max. It seems that he must approve of me before I can begin the initiation. I’m not sure how I am to be prepared for our first meeting. I’m anxious, but also a bit frightened. Without my tail, nobody knows where I am. But, after all, it’s only tickling. That seems innocent enough. What harm can it do me?
Day 3:
Now I understand why I had to wait to meet Rev. Max. All day long, I was pampered and primped to make me presentable. I thought that my day at the spa yesterday had been enough. But, the spa here is something else. They even have electrolysis technicians on staff for members who’ve completed their initiation and decided to remain. They do a much better job here than anywhere I’ve ever been. If they ever open it to the public, they’ll be rich. I felt so refreshed and relaxed!
It wasn’t until near dinnertime that I was taken, with great ceremony, to the main hall where new initiates are examined. There were three other women, girls really, along with me. Each of us was dressed the same. We wore a loose-fitting white sleeveless top slit down the sides and a white silk thong. If the robe wasn’t pure silk, it was certainly a blend. It was one of the softest materials I’d ever felt. The cut of it reminded me of a long and very narrow poncho, covering only our torso and tied loosely at the waist by a simple gold cord. After the days pampering, it actually tickled as it brushed against my bare skin. Our arms and legs were bare. On our feet, we wore a type of sandal with a faux fur top. I suppose this was to protect the meticulous pedicures we’d each had.
Each of us was led forward by our sponsor when our name was called. We were asked a few simple questions about our ticklishness and our openness to knowing ‘a freedom that we had yet to dream of’…their words, not mine. The entire time, Rev. Max and the other ministers stood before us, gazing upon us. It felt as if they were looking right into the depths of us. My feeling of nakedness wasn’t only a result of my form of dress. It was much more a result of that look.
As I learned a few minutes later, the others had been recruited in much the same fashion as myself. It turns out that Andy and the others are fully initiated members who are deacons and highly respected…almost feared. All of the main leaders appear to be male, though there do seem to be a few women. Their roles seem to be much more subservient and less feared. (I say feared because this is what I felt at the time. I can’t really say, in all fairness, that this is an accurate observation of what others felt.)
It appeared that our questioning was acceptable. We were then asked if we were willing to submit to a brief trial. With some trepidation, we answered that we were. (Again, the trepidation was on my part. I can’t speak for the others. In fact, one of the girls seemed quite anxious for this part.) We were each then led to a separate spot along the front of the hall. I hadn’t noticed until then that there were chains with wrist cuffs attached suspended from the ceiling. Each of us was cuffed first. Then, a padded bench was brought forward and placed under us so that we were kneeling on it with our bare feet sticking out behind us. We were told that we must remain as still as we could until told otherwise.
(continued below...)
The Vellicationists
Philadelphia Tribune – Investigative Reports Services – Julie Foster reporting
In the midst of the City of Brotherly Love, you’d expect to find a variety of different things. You find many historical sites. You find a variety of shops and restaurants catering to every possible taste. You find people of all walks of life. And, you find a variety of cultural and religious expressions. This story explores the latest cult craze that’s sweeping not only the city, but the rest of the nation as well. It’s leader and chief minister is Rev. Max Speer. I believe that he and his followers are a danger to this nation.
This may well be my last time reporting to you, my faithful readers here in our fair city. I have infiltrated a group from which I may never be able to extract myself. It seems to have taken some sort of supernatural hold of my will and my very being. I’m smuggling out this report in hopes if warning others who may otherwise share my fate. If I succeed in saving even one, I will die in peace…IF they allow me that mercy. Lord only knows what further torments they have in mind for me.
But, I digress. Allow me to explain.
The Beginnings…
One day, Rev. Max Speer decided that it was time to do something about his long-suppressed desire to form a religious community. This community would be dedicated to the exploration and practice of tickling as a means for spiritual awakening and fulfillment. It would put forth the following principles:
1) That the Great Spirit lies within the center of joy within our being
2) That this Joy can be obtained through laughter
3) That Tickling can bring us closer to the Great Spirit
The group is known as the Vellicationists. This is their story…
Having come to the decision that it was time, at long last, to take action, Rev. Max had reached out to others who shared this vision. They discussed possibilities for specific practices and forms of expression and recruitment. They even found a location for their more public religious celebrations at an old club in the historic Society Hill area of the city. Since their original organization, the community boasts thousands of members, many regularly active at their daily services.
How could a group of this sort boast so large a congregation? To ask its members, you would think that everyone there was just waiting for something like this to come along. They would tell you that they’ve always loved the idea of tickling and being tickled and that it opened something within them that nothing else could touch. They would tell you that it truly does bring them closer to the Great Spirit dwelling in all of us. Yet, I’ve seen a different side…a more devious side that seems to take away one’s free will.
Though many members have come and gone as their outside lives allowed, a core group of well over 100 devotees have converged on the areas near the City of Brotherly Love, taking up residence and spreading their beliefs like wildfire. I’ve seen evidence that points to a nationwide (perhaps even worldwide) campaign to convert everyone with whom they come in contact…provided they are ticklish or enjoy tickling others.
Since it is well known that I have always been extremely ticklish, I wandered into areas where the cult members are known to hang out, watching for potential recruits. I’ve mentioned my ticklishness in past stories. I even staged a taste of my ticklishness for them, having an old friend sneak up and tickle my sides while I wandered through the Gallery Mall. My screech caught their attention immediately. One member, Andy, came over feigning great concern that I had been attacked. I knew I had him just looking at his eyes. The lust for tickling that I saw there was unmistakable. But, I played along. He was a complete gentleman. I could easily see how others have been so easily drawn into the trap. I was invited to meet him for dinner the following night. That’s where it all began.
We must be somewhere near the city. For, as I’ve said, services take place in the Society Hill area. I know this only because our (those of us not fully initiated) blindfolds are removed once we get to the area so as not to attract the attention of passersby. It’s about a 40-minute ride, though I don’t know if they are taking longer to throw us off. We never seem to take the same route. I’ve tried timing distances between turns. But, they’re never the same.
The place we stay appears to be in a country setting. The core members of the group all seem to live here, though they go out to various locations during the daytime. The main building is a huge old stone mansion, almost castle-like in appearance. The surrounding houses (more like cabins, really) are spaced around the grounds, which is set on a hill and surrounded on all sides by heavily forested land. There are gyms and salons in the cellar of the mansion, faithfully used to keep everyone in top condition for their ceremonies. The location has a certain familiarity to it. But, I can’t seem to place it.
What follows is my diary of my time with them. I have kept it in secret. For, as one not yet fully initiated into the group, I am allowed no outside contact nor the privilege of writing. I had to steal paper and pen from the library and smuggle them to my secret place. Rev. Max seems to know what I’m up to. But, I’ve managed to keep the diary’s location from him. It has cost me dearly. He has this power that…. Well, you’ll see.
Everyday Life With the Vellicationists…The Real Story…
Day 1:
The bait having been taken, I am to meet Andy at the Independence Brewery Pub for dinner this evening. Located at the end of the Gallery Mall, I suppose he figured it would be a safe place to me. And, indeed it will be. I’ve got backup. The same friend who staged the tickle attack with me yesterday will be sitting across from our table, monitoring everything. (Of course, he’ll be disguised differently this time.) Since the group members seem to take hygiene very seriously, I’m going to spend the day at the spa making myself as acceptable as possible to them.
Day 2:
So much for my backup. It seems that they were ready for that.
Half way through dinner, Andy began to share a bit with me about the group. Though I’d already heard much of what he told me, I played dumb and acted intrigued by the idea. I asked if there was more to it. (I truly wanted to ask him to take me then and there, but didn’t want to appear overly anxious and make him suspicious.) He seemed pleased and said that I’d have to promise to never share any of what he told me with others without permission. I agreed.
He began to tell me a bit about their lifestyle and ceremonies. In all honesty, I really was intrigued at that point. These people really believe that they can grow spiritually by tickling and being tickled. The concept fascinates me. I told him that it was likely something that I would have to experience in order to truly understand. He hesitated and seemed to be struggling with a decision. Finally, he said that he agreed. The only way I could see for myself was if he brought me here and I went through their initiation. He also said that he would have to blindfold me to protect the secrecy of the location. I agreed, giggling a bit at the simplicity of the plan.
We finished our meals and headed next door to the train station, catching the first train that came by. Once on the train, Andy made a show of placing the blindfold on me. I suppose this was mainly to keep others from thinking too much of it. In a city open to the BDSM scene, it wasn’t necessarily that unusual a site. People have seen much more here. My tail made it onto the train just as it was about to pull out of the station. I know this only because I recognized his voice as he apologized for plowing into an elderly woman in his rush.
We must have changed trains half a dozen times. I really don’t remember. The effect of the blindfold threw off my perception of everything. In fact, I suspect there may have been some sort of drug in it that kept me slightly sedated. I was so sleepy and disoriented! After the final train ride, we got into a car and drove for what seemed like hours. Though I was a little nervous, I didn’t say or do anything to show it. Andy kept asking me how I was doing and assuring me that I was safe and that the run-around was simply a precaution.
I have no idea at what point my tail lost us. When we finally arrived at our destination, my blindfold was removed. My eyesight cleared just in time to see the huge mansion at the end of the long drive. I thought that I would be introduced to Rev. Max, or at least to one of his assistants, as soon as I arrived. But, Andy explained that there was a set process and that I’d meet him in due time. I was shown to my room, a gorgeous room with Victorian décor, and locked in for the night. Though I didn’t expect to sleep a wink, I knocked off the moment I hit the pillow.
The sun is just rising now as I write this. I’m told that breakfast will be served here in my room until I am properly prepared to meet Rev. Max. It seems that he must approve of me before I can begin the initiation. I’m not sure how I am to be prepared for our first meeting. I’m anxious, but also a bit frightened. Without my tail, nobody knows where I am. But, after all, it’s only tickling. That seems innocent enough. What harm can it do me?
Day 3:
Now I understand why I had to wait to meet Rev. Max. All day long, I was pampered and primped to make me presentable. I thought that my day at the spa yesterday had been enough. But, the spa here is something else. They even have electrolysis technicians on staff for members who’ve completed their initiation and decided to remain. They do a much better job here than anywhere I’ve ever been. If they ever open it to the public, they’ll be rich. I felt so refreshed and relaxed!
It wasn’t until near dinnertime that I was taken, with great ceremony, to the main hall where new initiates are examined. There were three other women, girls really, along with me. Each of us was dressed the same. We wore a loose-fitting white sleeveless top slit down the sides and a white silk thong. If the robe wasn’t pure silk, it was certainly a blend. It was one of the softest materials I’d ever felt. The cut of it reminded me of a long and very narrow poncho, covering only our torso and tied loosely at the waist by a simple gold cord. After the days pampering, it actually tickled as it brushed against my bare skin. Our arms and legs were bare. On our feet, we wore a type of sandal with a faux fur top. I suppose this was to protect the meticulous pedicures we’d each had.
Each of us was led forward by our sponsor when our name was called. We were asked a few simple questions about our ticklishness and our openness to knowing ‘a freedom that we had yet to dream of’…their words, not mine. The entire time, Rev. Max and the other ministers stood before us, gazing upon us. It felt as if they were looking right into the depths of us. My feeling of nakedness wasn’t only a result of my form of dress. It was much more a result of that look.
As I learned a few minutes later, the others had been recruited in much the same fashion as myself. It turns out that Andy and the others are fully initiated members who are deacons and highly respected…almost feared. All of the main leaders appear to be male, though there do seem to be a few women. Their roles seem to be much more subservient and less feared. (I say feared because this is what I felt at the time. I can’t really say, in all fairness, that this is an accurate observation of what others felt.)
It appeared that our questioning was acceptable. We were then asked if we were willing to submit to a brief trial. With some trepidation, we answered that we were. (Again, the trepidation was on my part. I can’t speak for the others. In fact, one of the girls seemed quite anxious for this part.) We were each then led to a separate spot along the front of the hall. I hadn’t noticed until then that there were chains with wrist cuffs attached suspended from the ceiling. Each of us was cuffed first. Then, a padded bench was brought forward and placed under us so that we were kneeling on it with our bare feet sticking out behind us. We were told that we must remain as still as we could until told otherwise.
(continued below...)
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