RogueTickler
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Nov 24, 2001
- Messages
- 62
- Points
- 0
Hey all
Here's my first attempt at fiction, starring our very own Isabeau! If anyone finds it a little long, I apologize.
Anyway, Enjoy!
'Isabeau's Vacation' by Rogue Tickler
Isabeau sighed softly and clicked the mouse, bringing up a picture of a pretty blonde girl, trapped in some wooden stocks with her arms bound high over her head. The blonde's cute pale bare feet protruded through the holes of the stocks, and a hooded man was positioning his fingers near her toes, ready to subject her to ticklish torture. Isabeau gazed longingly at the picture, examining the detail of the girl's pretty feet - toes tied together and back. She looked at the hooded man, and the fearful way the girl was looking at him. 'I wish that was me in the stocks', Isabeau said wistfully.
Isabeau had loved tickling ever since she could remember. One of the earliest experiences that stayed with her occurred when she was just 5 years old. She would sit on the couch watching a children's program, with a pillow in her lap, and her feet sticking straight out. Her mother would come in to check on her, and she would always give little Isabeau's feet some tickles, causing Isabeau to laugh and giggle. It was purely innocent, but Isabeau grew to love the feeling of having her feet tickled. It was almost comforting to her. As she grew up, boys began to take notice of Isabeau's sexy curves and beautiful short blonde hair. She kept her feet well manicured and pretty, always hoping she would meet a boy who would want to tickle her... but no such luck. It seemed like all the boys she met lacked imagination, and this was a big disappointment to her. Soon, Isabeau began to believe that her interest in tickling was strictly her own. She felt alone and lonely, but, being an eternal optimist, decided to look at the bright side - she had no lack of interest from men, as she was a strikingly beautiful woman. She put her tickling desires on the back-burner and began dating different men, eventually forming a special bond with one particular gentleman who asked her for her hand in marriage. She happily accepted and begun her new life as a Mrs.
Everything in her marriage was good. Her husband loved and cared for her, however he did not share her intense love of tickling. Unfortunately, he was a very conservative man, and found the idea of 'tying and tickling' his wife preposterous. Isabeau accepted this and tried to downplay her obsession with tickling. One day, though, something amazing happened. Her husband brought home a new computer and hooked it up to the internet. Isabeau had never done much internet surfing, but one day when her husband was out she decided to do a search on 'tickling'. She was blown-away when literally TONS of different sites popped-up... all dedicated to what she craved. She was not alone! She looked with wonder at the various sites and eventually found the biggest site of them all: the Tickling Media Forum. Isabeau clicked happily through the site, reading lusty stories of ticklish interrogation and looking at videos of helpless girls having their most ticklish spots exploited. She became a regular member, logging on whenever her husband was away, posting comments and becoming a supportive member of the tickling community. As great as the TMF was, though, Isabeau still lacked one thing in life: She had never actually been tied up and tickle-tortured! The more she read the stories and looked at the pictures and videos, the more she grew frustrated. She wanted to experience her true desires. She wanted to submit 100% to the feelings that consumed her daily.. but how?
Isabeau clicked off the computer with a resigned sigh and headed off to bed. It was late and she was tired. Her husband was out of town on business for a few days, so the bed loomed extra large and lonely that night. She changed into her night-shirt and climbed on to the king-sized bed. She lay down in the middle of the bed, on top of the fluffy comforter and put her hands behind her head. She crossed her ankles and gazed down at her pretty bare feet. They were small and slender with slim toes that curled slightly. The purple polish she had applied earlier in the day glistened in the light of the bedroom lamp. Isabeau flexed and wiggled her feet, imagining what it would be like to be tied to the 4 corners of this bed, in her very own bedroom. She closed her eyes and stretched herself out spread-eagled, imagining that cruel ropes were wrapped around her slim wrists and ankles. She imagined a man with a dark hood standing at the end of the bed, twirling a feather in preparation for her tickling. She smiled at the delightful thought and slowly drifted into an arousing sleep.
Isabeau woke up early the next morning, the warm sun streaming on her face and across her body. She was still in the middle of the bed, limbs stretched out, still bound by the imaginary ropes she had imagined the night before. She shook herself awake and slowly sat up in bed, pulling her knees to her chest. 'What a lovely dream I just had', smiling at the recollection of her dream of tickle-torture. She played back the best parts in her head as she stood over her bathroom sink and brushed her teeth, feeling warm and tingly all over. After a light breakfast, Isabeau woke up the computer and checked her EMAIL. She began deleting the regular SPAM EMAILs, read a note from her friend, and wrote a small note back. Suddenly the computer made a little 'beep' and a new EMAIL arrived. The EMAIL was addressed to no one in particular, but the heading caught her attention. It said: Like to Laugh? Vacation with us and we'll MAKE you laugh!' Isabeau shook her head and chuckled. 'Some kind of resort, I guess. What a strange line!'. Isabeau moved the cursor over the 'delete' button, but something nagged at her. She shrugged and clicked on the EMAIL to open it up. 'Better not be a virus...', she said under her breath. The EMAIL popped open and her jaw dropped as she read.
'You have won a 3 day fantasy vacation package at the DeMontFort Estate. If you accept, you will be subjected to 3 days of tickle-torture at the hands of the most experienced and merciless torturers on earth. We will handle all travel arrangements and accomodations. After 3 days, you will be returned to your home exhausted, but completely unharmed... and possibly spiritually broken. Do you accept your fate? Reply with a single 'YES' to this EMAIL, if you do.'
Isabeau felt light headed as she read the EMAIL over and over again. Was it real? Who had sent this to her... was it even meant for her? There was no name on the EMAIL, after all. The thing was, the more she read the EMAIL, she knew that it talked directly to her soul. It was what she had desired forever. But was there a risk? 'This could be dangerous', she thought. But the idea excited and stimulated her, and a smile slowly spread across her face. She held her breath, typed 'YES' and hit the 'send' button. Isabeau exhaled and felt a chill run down her spine. What was going to happen?
Isabeau spent the rest of the day taking care of her regular business, doing the banking, buying groceries, all the while day-dreaming about the mysterious EMAIL she had responded to. She came home, cooked herself dinner and watched a little TV. The EMAIL was invading her thoughts every minute of the day, but she forced herself to relax. Finally, around 9:45, Isabeau decided to check her EMAIL to see if she had received a response... she had no idea how they were planning to contact her, or if it was even legitimate. She turned on the computer and scrolled through the EMAILS. Disappointingly she had received nothing from DeMontFort Estates. She read the original one more time, then put the computer to sleep, sighing to herself, 'maybe it was just a prank...'. She slipped on her night-shirt and climbed into bed to read a little. She picked the hardcover book off her night stand table and opened it to her book-marked page.
'POOF!'
A cloud of gas sprayed into Isabeau's face from between the pages of her book. The gas smelled sweet, like strawberries, and Isabeau felt herself slipping into unconsciousness as her book fell away from her hands. As soon as she hit the pillow, 2 dark figures emerged from the shadows. and began binding and preparing Isabeau for the journey to the DeMonFort Estate. As one of the figures wrapped leather straps around Isabeau's slim ankles, he paused to admire the delicate curves of her size 6 bare feet. He traced his finger along one of her small arches and her foot twitched. 'Impressive', said the man, 'even unconscious she is sensitive. She will be a joy to play with.' The other figure grinned back, knowing that the petite blonde beauty, Isabeau, was in for an unforgettable time.
Isabeau woke with her wrists in sophisticated leather straps, hanging from the ceiling of a dark room. A single spot light illuminated her slim figure, which was stretched taught, as her small toes barely reached the floor. Leather cuffs around her ankles ensured her immobility, and her head whipped around and tried to understand where she was. She was still wearing the night-shirt, and her bare legs and feet stretched and flexed, trying to maintain her balance. A foam ball gag was buckled firmly around her mouth, the leather strap pinning her short blonde hair down on the back of her head. Isabeau looked around wildly. This wasn't what she had expected! She felt scared, exposed, helpless! The wrist cuffs, while not uncomfortable, held her frustratingly immobile, and she struggled in vain to pull her arms free. After a few minutes of frantic struggling, Isabeau became tired and hung limply from her bonds, head down. She let out a small whimper, and a few tears dropped from her pretty eyes. She hung this way for another 10 minutes, feeling more and more despondent, when suddenly she heard a door open behind her. Tied as she was, she couldn't rotate to see who had entered, but she craned her head back and forth, attempting to do so anyway. Isabeau was breathing hard as she saw a pair of hands come from behind her, fingers wiggling. The hands began to move slowly towards Isabeau's sensitive underarms, and she cried out, desperately trying to wiggle free. She closed her eyes tight as the wiggling fingers made contact, expertly probing for Isabeau's worst, most ticklish spots. The feeling was overwhelming and Isabeau shrieked with muffled, frantic laughter. Senses overloaded, Isabeau could do little more than laugh hysterically, and she was stunned at her torturer's mastery and control. Finally, after 10 long, agonizing minutes, the hands withdrew and Isabeau slumped, as much as her bonds would let her. The rest period barely allowed her to catch her breath, and soon the hands were back at it , this time searching her ribs and hips for sensitivity. Again, Isabeau could do little more than laugh, yelp, and shriek as the hands played her like a ticklish musical instrument. 20 minutes later, Isabeau hung limp, stunned by what she had just experienced. The 'hands' had withdrawn and the torturer had left the room, as quietly as he or she had entered. 10 minutes later, 2 hooded figures entered the room, released the exhausted Isabeau from her bonds, and carried her to another room where she was bathed by 2 servants. Cleaned up, she was given a simple cotton smock to wear, as well as some slippers. The 2 hooded figures came back and escorted Isabeau to a jail cell with a comfortable bed and a plate of delicious food waiting for her. She was surprisingly famished! As she ate, she clicked on the TV that hung from a corner of the ceiling. She was surprised when screaming laughter came out of the speakers, and an image of a dark haired woman tied to a block of wood and having her feet tickled showed up on the screen. She watched for a moment, then switched channels and discovered that every channel was a different woman undergoing tickle-torture. Slack-jawed, she clicked off the remote and wondered what the next day would bring.
Isabeau awoke the following day, lying on her side on a thinly padded mattress. She moved her left ankle and heard a 'clink' from a metal cuff and chain that bound her to the wall. All her other limbs were free, so she sat up, rubbed her eyes and examined her surroundings. This was NOT the jail cell she had fallen asleep in last night! She swung her feet down onto the floor, and noticed that she was now wearing a tattered brown short shift. A thin bit of cord served as a belt, hugging Isabeau's tiny waist. Leather slippers adorned her feet. She looked around at the dank surroundings, feeling straws of hay underneath her feet. Suddenly 2 large, rough looking men came into view outside her cell door. They were dressed as medieval 'men-at-arms' and acted with according brutality, throwing open the cell door and roughly pulling Isabeau to her feet. Shocked, Isabeau tried vainly to struggle, but the 2 men were far stronger than her - it was hopeless. One of the men unlocked the cuff from her ankle, and they began dragging her out of the cell, down a dark hallway to another door. Isabeau screamed and begged as she was dragged, but these men were used to hearing women beg and plead for mercy - they thought nothing of it, it was their job. Arriving at the door, one of the men threw it open, and they pulled Isabeau inside. Her breath sucked back as she realized where she was: Inside a torture chamber! The men didn't stop for sight seeing as they dragged the frantic Isabeau towards a device which she immediately recognized - the stocks! Expertly, the 2 men forced her to sit in the 'seat', quickly binding her wrists together above her head, and securing her ankles in the heavy wooden stocks. Her slippers were removed and her big toes were tied back to the frame. Isabeau felt her arms being pulled up higher, and a leather strap was secured over her thighs. Tears streaming down her face, Isabeau pulled desperately at her bonds, but it was no use. She was once again expertly bound for tickle torture. The guards left her alone in the torture chamber, and Isabeau began to question her decision. As she sat there, helplessly bound in the stocks, she began to think about all that had happened to her in the past couple of days. Although she was scared, she thought, she hadn't been hurt in any way. In fact, the bath after the previous day's torture was like a 4 star spa treatment. And that meal! Delicious! The bed that she had fallen asleep in was probably the most comfortable she had ever felt. In fact, she had slept so well, she had woken up feeling absolutely invigorated! Who knew how long she had slept, before they had moved her to her new 'scenario'? The more Isabeau thought about it, the more aroused she realized she was becoming... she felt herself coming alive.
Suddenly the door of the torture chamber flew open and a man dressed like a priest, followed by 2 hooded men, briskly entered the chamber and surrounded her. 'Mistress Isabeau', the priest began, 'you have been accused of dabbling in the dark arts, namely witchcraft. How do you plead?'. Isabeau was stunned and began to stammer, 'I... what....I don't know... what you're talking about'. 'Fine then', the priest smiled evilly, 'we shall torture you until you confess. Proceed!' The 2 hooded men stepped forward, one taking a position in front of Isabeau's helpless tender feet, and the other moving directly behind her. Eyes wide, Isabeau began to plead, 'Please....' It was all she got out as expert fingers attacked her bare feet and her underarms, causing an explosion of long hard laughter. The techniques the men used were absolutely devastating, as Isabeau became a prisoner of forced shrieks, squeals and laughter. After 15 long minutes, the men stopped the torture, and Isabeau sagged in disbelief, not believing she had actually been granted a break. 'Well?', asked the priest, proddingly. Isabeau, breathing hard, lifted up her head , looked the priest in the eye defiantly and said, 'Go-To-Hell!' The priest arched his eye-brows in an amused and surprised way, chuckled and raised his finger - the sign to begin the tickling again. The men dived in and Isabeau once again found herself laughing hysterically. This time the men were serious! Isabeau found herself in long fits of silent laughter as cruel new tickle techniques were employed on her helpless bare feet, underarms, and ribs. During the middle of a particularly cruel and prolonged bout of silent laughter, Isabeau passed out from lack of oxygen. 'Rack her', was all the priest said, as he turned to leave. It was to be a long, torturous day of laughter for poor little Isabeau.
Several hours later, Isabeau found herself back in the bathing room, being washed and cleaned. After the bath, she was given a relaxing massage, and she purred and sighed as expert hands kneaded her flesh. She was escorted back to her cell, where another plate of food, as delicious as the night before, awaited her. Hungrily, Isabeau dug in and reflected on the past day's events. She thought of the way the stocks had closed around and held her ankles firm. She thought of being stretched tightly on the rack, and of being tortured for 3 straight hours by a single masked man who worked her body over with unbelievable precision - and a strangely, almost familiar touch. Most of all, she thought of how she hadn't broken, how she hadn't confessed... even under the worst tickle torture imaginable. Somehow, it felt empowering to her, and she grinned at the idea. Isabeau climbed onto the comfy bed and clicked on the TV. She channel surfed for a bit, finally settling on a channel which featured a sexy pig-tailed blonde strapped to a wall cross and having her underarms tickled while she screamed with laughter. Isabeau smiled, looking forward to the next day.
Isabeau woke up with the side of her face resting on soft fur. She blinked her eyes into focus, took a deep breath... and realized that she was fetchingly hog-tied on a large, fur covered bed! Her wrists and ankles were bound with strong coils of rope which were all linked to a single central ring tied to a chain which hung from the ceiling. The chain was fairly taught, ensuring Isabeau remained in the 'soles-up' position. Her attire had changed again. This time she found herself in some delicate lingerie which enhanced Isabeau's already exquisite softness, exposing her bare shoulders, legs and midriff. Her pretty bare feet hung in the air, awaiting the torturous tickling that would soon be coming. Isabeau squirmed around on the fur, testing her bonds. The fur felt lucious and sexy, and she felt her body tingling warmly as she rubbed against it. Suddenly a low female voice said, 'It feel's great, doesn't it?'. Startled, Isabeau looked around and saw a tall, stunningly beautiful woman emerge from the shadow of the far corner. The woman had long straight dark hair and wore a black satin gown which shimmered in the light as she moved forward and approached her bound victim. 'Hello, Isabeau. My name is Marie DeMontFort.', the woman said, with a slight accent. Was she the owner of this incredible place, Isabeau wondered? Marie spoke again, 'Isabeau, my darling, many people go through life never knowing what it is they truly desire. You are different. You have always known what you wanted, but you have been denied for so long that you have become painfully repressed.' The woman slid onto the bed, examining the soft curves of Isabeau's bare feet. 'These past few days have been special, as you are finally learning what it is like to be alive... and how sensitive you truly are.' The woman produced a soft feather and began running it lightly across isabeau's bound soles. Isabeau gasped, surprised that she could feel every lick and kiss of the feather - it was delightful, and she giggled and cooed while her bare feet wiggled cutely in the air. 'You have come very far in the last 2 days... but today we are going to open you up completely!' Isabeau frowned slightly at the remark, not understanding what Marie meant. Suddenly, Marie dropped the feather, and dug into Isabeau's soles with her long nails, causing Isabeau to let out a piercing shriek of laughter as the sensations penetrated her very core. The woman's skills were exceptional, moving with ease from Isabeau's feet, to her ribs, to her under-arms, to her inner thighs, always one step-ahead, driving Isabeau frantic with laughter. Marie continued to tickle Isabeau in this fashion for a solid hour, listening carefully to the petite blonde's tortured laughter, analyzing it and adjusting the tickling accordingly. The woman dug her fingers into the insides of Isabeau's hips, lingering there and sending Isabeau into silent, unescapable laughter. 'She won't break me!', Isabeau thought to herself, squeezing her eyes tight while her abdomen heaved, but no sound came out. The excruciating hip tickling went on and on, and Isabeau continued to laugh hard in silence, beginning to question whether or not she could endure such masterful torture. Suddenly she heard Marie's voice command her: 'Isabeau, let go. Submit to your feelings. Let yourself break.' Isabeau squeezed her eyes tighter and she felt tears rimming her eyes. The feverish torture continued. 'Trust me', the woman said, 'Free yourself... just let go... let go NOW!' Isabeau's eyes flew open and she let the tickling penetrate her soul. Suddenly, she felt every nerve ending come alive and she shuddered violently as she felt the 'knot' inside of her unwind, releasing years of trapped frustration. Marie relaxed her technique, moving back to Isabeau's feet, tickling them gently. Isabeau sobbed uncontrollably, feeling euphoric and incredibly alive. Marie let her cry for a little while, then slowly increased the intensity of the tickling until Isabeau was consumed again. Musical laughter poured out of Isabeau, and the woman smiled as she listened, knowing that Isabeau was now truly free, no longer a prisoner of her repressed desires. Over a period of 20 minutes, the woman continued to tickle Isabeau, winding down the intensity every minute until she was only softly stroking her feet with a single nail. Isabeau, still hog-tied, lay with the side of her face on the soft fur, tittering softly, eyes wide-open and smiling brightly. She suddenly smelled strawberries and began to doze off in a happy slumber.
'Wake up, sleepy-head!'. Isabeau opened her eyes and found herself in her own bed with her husband sitting on the side, next to her. 'Hello baby, did you have a good sleep?', her husband asked. Isabeau nodded slowly and looked around the room, wondering if it had all really happened. She slid her hands along the bedsheets and felt the palms of her hands tingle. She sat up, drew up her knees and looked up at her husband. He had been gone for awhile and she had missed him. They exchanged a light kiss and a 'welcome home' embrace. 'I have a present for you', her husband said, as he handed her a small rectangular package. She nodded again, accepting the package and pulling off the wrapper. It was a DVD case. She opened it and saw a single unmarked DVD inside. 'Here', her husband offered, 'let me play it for you.' He popped it into the bedroom DVD player and hit 'play'. A menu came up and Isabeau's eyes widened. The title said 'DeMontFort Estate Vacation Highlights'. On the screen were some slick graphics showing a beautiful estate cast in full moon-light. Shocked, Isabeau read the menu choices: Chapter 1 - Isabeau's Capture, Chapter 2 - Isabeau's Initiation, Chapter 3 - Isabeau's Interrogation, part I: The Stocks, part 2: The Rack, Chapter 4 - Isabeau's Salvation. Isabeau stared at the screen with disbelief. Suddenly, she felt her husband's hand slip under the comforter and take firm grip of her small ankle. Isabeau swiveled her head and looked into his eyes - then she knew, and her mouth dropped open. 'It was you, wasn't it?... tickling me on the rack.... but, how...', Isabeau stammered, feeling confused. 'Shhhh, Isabeau', her husband put a finger to his lips, then proceeded to tie a soft rope around her right ankle, 'There is plenty of time for explanation. But, now is the time for laughter...' With that, Isabeau's husband went about the business of tying her spread-eagled to the four corners of their king-sized bed. When he finished and made sure his beautiful wife was securely bound, he pulled a mask over his face that she had seen once before, picked up a soft feather, and twirled it between his fingers in preparation for his wife's tickling. Isabeau pulled luxuriously against the ropes, took a deep breath, and sighed with pleasure.
The End
Here's my first attempt at fiction, starring our very own Isabeau! If anyone finds it a little long, I apologize.
Anyway, Enjoy!
'Isabeau's Vacation' by Rogue Tickler
Isabeau sighed softly and clicked the mouse, bringing up a picture of a pretty blonde girl, trapped in some wooden stocks with her arms bound high over her head. The blonde's cute pale bare feet protruded through the holes of the stocks, and a hooded man was positioning his fingers near her toes, ready to subject her to ticklish torture. Isabeau gazed longingly at the picture, examining the detail of the girl's pretty feet - toes tied together and back. She looked at the hooded man, and the fearful way the girl was looking at him. 'I wish that was me in the stocks', Isabeau said wistfully.
Isabeau had loved tickling ever since she could remember. One of the earliest experiences that stayed with her occurred when she was just 5 years old. She would sit on the couch watching a children's program, with a pillow in her lap, and her feet sticking straight out. Her mother would come in to check on her, and she would always give little Isabeau's feet some tickles, causing Isabeau to laugh and giggle. It was purely innocent, but Isabeau grew to love the feeling of having her feet tickled. It was almost comforting to her. As she grew up, boys began to take notice of Isabeau's sexy curves and beautiful short blonde hair. She kept her feet well manicured and pretty, always hoping she would meet a boy who would want to tickle her... but no such luck. It seemed like all the boys she met lacked imagination, and this was a big disappointment to her. Soon, Isabeau began to believe that her interest in tickling was strictly her own. She felt alone and lonely, but, being an eternal optimist, decided to look at the bright side - she had no lack of interest from men, as she was a strikingly beautiful woman. She put her tickling desires on the back-burner and began dating different men, eventually forming a special bond with one particular gentleman who asked her for her hand in marriage. She happily accepted and begun her new life as a Mrs.
Everything in her marriage was good. Her husband loved and cared for her, however he did not share her intense love of tickling. Unfortunately, he was a very conservative man, and found the idea of 'tying and tickling' his wife preposterous. Isabeau accepted this and tried to downplay her obsession with tickling. One day, though, something amazing happened. Her husband brought home a new computer and hooked it up to the internet. Isabeau had never done much internet surfing, but one day when her husband was out she decided to do a search on 'tickling'. She was blown-away when literally TONS of different sites popped-up... all dedicated to what she craved. She was not alone! She looked with wonder at the various sites and eventually found the biggest site of them all: the Tickling Media Forum. Isabeau clicked happily through the site, reading lusty stories of ticklish interrogation and looking at videos of helpless girls having their most ticklish spots exploited. She became a regular member, logging on whenever her husband was away, posting comments and becoming a supportive member of the tickling community. As great as the TMF was, though, Isabeau still lacked one thing in life: She had never actually been tied up and tickle-tortured! The more she read the stories and looked at the pictures and videos, the more she grew frustrated. She wanted to experience her true desires. She wanted to submit 100% to the feelings that consumed her daily.. but how?
Isabeau clicked off the computer with a resigned sigh and headed off to bed. It was late and she was tired. Her husband was out of town on business for a few days, so the bed loomed extra large and lonely that night. She changed into her night-shirt and climbed on to the king-sized bed. She lay down in the middle of the bed, on top of the fluffy comforter and put her hands behind her head. She crossed her ankles and gazed down at her pretty bare feet. They were small and slender with slim toes that curled slightly. The purple polish she had applied earlier in the day glistened in the light of the bedroom lamp. Isabeau flexed and wiggled her feet, imagining what it would be like to be tied to the 4 corners of this bed, in her very own bedroom. She closed her eyes and stretched herself out spread-eagled, imagining that cruel ropes were wrapped around her slim wrists and ankles. She imagined a man with a dark hood standing at the end of the bed, twirling a feather in preparation for her tickling. She smiled at the delightful thought and slowly drifted into an arousing sleep.
Isabeau woke up early the next morning, the warm sun streaming on her face and across her body. She was still in the middle of the bed, limbs stretched out, still bound by the imaginary ropes she had imagined the night before. She shook herself awake and slowly sat up in bed, pulling her knees to her chest. 'What a lovely dream I just had', smiling at the recollection of her dream of tickle-torture. She played back the best parts in her head as she stood over her bathroom sink and brushed her teeth, feeling warm and tingly all over. After a light breakfast, Isabeau woke up the computer and checked her EMAIL. She began deleting the regular SPAM EMAILs, read a note from her friend, and wrote a small note back. Suddenly the computer made a little 'beep' and a new EMAIL arrived. The EMAIL was addressed to no one in particular, but the heading caught her attention. It said: Like to Laugh? Vacation with us and we'll MAKE you laugh!' Isabeau shook her head and chuckled. 'Some kind of resort, I guess. What a strange line!'. Isabeau moved the cursor over the 'delete' button, but something nagged at her. She shrugged and clicked on the EMAIL to open it up. 'Better not be a virus...', she said under her breath. The EMAIL popped open and her jaw dropped as she read.
'You have won a 3 day fantasy vacation package at the DeMontFort Estate. If you accept, you will be subjected to 3 days of tickle-torture at the hands of the most experienced and merciless torturers on earth. We will handle all travel arrangements and accomodations. After 3 days, you will be returned to your home exhausted, but completely unharmed... and possibly spiritually broken. Do you accept your fate? Reply with a single 'YES' to this EMAIL, if you do.'
Isabeau felt light headed as she read the EMAIL over and over again. Was it real? Who had sent this to her... was it even meant for her? There was no name on the EMAIL, after all. The thing was, the more she read the EMAIL, she knew that it talked directly to her soul. It was what she had desired forever. But was there a risk? 'This could be dangerous', she thought. But the idea excited and stimulated her, and a smile slowly spread across her face. She held her breath, typed 'YES' and hit the 'send' button. Isabeau exhaled and felt a chill run down her spine. What was going to happen?
Isabeau spent the rest of the day taking care of her regular business, doing the banking, buying groceries, all the while day-dreaming about the mysterious EMAIL she had responded to. She came home, cooked herself dinner and watched a little TV. The EMAIL was invading her thoughts every minute of the day, but she forced herself to relax. Finally, around 9:45, Isabeau decided to check her EMAIL to see if she had received a response... she had no idea how they were planning to contact her, or if it was even legitimate. She turned on the computer and scrolled through the EMAILS. Disappointingly she had received nothing from DeMontFort Estates. She read the original one more time, then put the computer to sleep, sighing to herself, 'maybe it was just a prank...'. She slipped on her night-shirt and climbed into bed to read a little. She picked the hardcover book off her night stand table and opened it to her book-marked page.
'POOF!'
A cloud of gas sprayed into Isabeau's face from between the pages of her book. The gas smelled sweet, like strawberries, and Isabeau felt herself slipping into unconsciousness as her book fell away from her hands. As soon as she hit the pillow, 2 dark figures emerged from the shadows. and began binding and preparing Isabeau for the journey to the DeMonFort Estate. As one of the figures wrapped leather straps around Isabeau's slim ankles, he paused to admire the delicate curves of her size 6 bare feet. He traced his finger along one of her small arches and her foot twitched. 'Impressive', said the man, 'even unconscious she is sensitive. She will be a joy to play with.' The other figure grinned back, knowing that the petite blonde beauty, Isabeau, was in for an unforgettable time.
Isabeau woke with her wrists in sophisticated leather straps, hanging from the ceiling of a dark room. A single spot light illuminated her slim figure, which was stretched taught, as her small toes barely reached the floor. Leather cuffs around her ankles ensured her immobility, and her head whipped around and tried to understand where she was. She was still wearing the night-shirt, and her bare legs and feet stretched and flexed, trying to maintain her balance. A foam ball gag was buckled firmly around her mouth, the leather strap pinning her short blonde hair down on the back of her head. Isabeau looked around wildly. This wasn't what she had expected! She felt scared, exposed, helpless! The wrist cuffs, while not uncomfortable, held her frustratingly immobile, and she struggled in vain to pull her arms free. After a few minutes of frantic struggling, Isabeau became tired and hung limply from her bonds, head down. She let out a small whimper, and a few tears dropped from her pretty eyes. She hung this way for another 10 minutes, feeling more and more despondent, when suddenly she heard a door open behind her. Tied as she was, she couldn't rotate to see who had entered, but she craned her head back and forth, attempting to do so anyway. Isabeau was breathing hard as she saw a pair of hands come from behind her, fingers wiggling. The hands began to move slowly towards Isabeau's sensitive underarms, and she cried out, desperately trying to wiggle free. She closed her eyes tight as the wiggling fingers made contact, expertly probing for Isabeau's worst, most ticklish spots. The feeling was overwhelming and Isabeau shrieked with muffled, frantic laughter. Senses overloaded, Isabeau could do little more than laugh hysterically, and she was stunned at her torturer's mastery and control. Finally, after 10 long, agonizing minutes, the hands withdrew and Isabeau slumped, as much as her bonds would let her. The rest period barely allowed her to catch her breath, and soon the hands were back at it , this time searching her ribs and hips for sensitivity. Again, Isabeau could do little more than laugh, yelp, and shriek as the hands played her like a ticklish musical instrument. 20 minutes later, Isabeau hung limp, stunned by what she had just experienced. The 'hands' had withdrawn and the torturer had left the room, as quietly as he or she had entered. 10 minutes later, 2 hooded figures entered the room, released the exhausted Isabeau from her bonds, and carried her to another room where she was bathed by 2 servants. Cleaned up, she was given a simple cotton smock to wear, as well as some slippers. The 2 hooded figures came back and escorted Isabeau to a jail cell with a comfortable bed and a plate of delicious food waiting for her. She was surprisingly famished! As she ate, she clicked on the TV that hung from a corner of the ceiling. She was surprised when screaming laughter came out of the speakers, and an image of a dark haired woman tied to a block of wood and having her feet tickled showed up on the screen. She watched for a moment, then switched channels and discovered that every channel was a different woman undergoing tickle-torture. Slack-jawed, she clicked off the remote and wondered what the next day would bring.
Isabeau awoke the following day, lying on her side on a thinly padded mattress. She moved her left ankle and heard a 'clink' from a metal cuff and chain that bound her to the wall. All her other limbs were free, so she sat up, rubbed her eyes and examined her surroundings. This was NOT the jail cell she had fallen asleep in last night! She swung her feet down onto the floor, and noticed that she was now wearing a tattered brown short shift. A thin bit of cord served as a belt, hugging Isabeau's tiny waist. Leather slippers adorned her feet. She looked around at the dank surroundings, feeling straws of hay underneath her feet. Suddenly 2 large, rough looking men came into view outside her cell door. They were dressed as medieval 'men-at-arms' and acted with according brutality, throwing open the cell door and roughly pulling Isabeau to her feet. Shocked, Isabeau tried vainly to struggle, but the 2 men were far stronger than her - it was hopeless. One of the men unlocked the cuff from her ankle, and they began dragging her out of the cell, down a dark hallway to another door. Isabeau screamed and begged as she was dragged, but these men were used to hearing women beg and plead for mercy - they thought nothing of it, it was their job. Arriving at the door, one of the men threw it open, and they pulled Isabeau inside. Her breath sucked back as she realized where she was: Inside a torture chamber! The men didn't stop for sight seeing as they dragged the frantic Isabeau towards a device which she immediately recognized - the stocks! Expertly, the 2 men forced her to sit in the 'seat', quickly binding her wrists together above her head, and securing her ankles in the heavy wooden stocks. Her slippers were removed and her big toes were tied back to the frame. Isabeau felt her arms being pulled up higher, and a leather strap was secured over her thighs. Tears streaming down her face, Isabeau pulled desperately at her bonds, but it was no use. She was once again expertly bound for tickle torture. The guards left her alone in the torture chamber, and Isabeau began to question her decision. As she sat there, helplessly bound in the stocks, she began to think about all that had happened to her in the past couple of days. Although she was scared, she thought, she hadn't been hurt in any way. In fact, the bath after the previous day's torture was like a 4 star spa treatment. And that meal! Delicious! The bed that she had fallen asleep in was probably the most comfortable she had ever felt. In fact, she had slept so well, she had woken up feeling absolutely invigorated! Who knew how long she had slept, before they had moved her to her new 'scenario'? The more Isabeau thought about it, the more aroused she realized she was becoming... she felt herself coming alive.
Suddenly the door of the torture chamber flew open and a man dressed like a priest, followed by 2 hooded men, briskly entered the chamber and surrounded her. 'Mistress Isabeau', the priest began, 'you have been accused of dabbling in the dark arts, namely witchcraft. How do you plead?'. Isabeau was stunned and began to stammer, 'I... what....I don't know... what you're talking about'. 'Fine then', the priest smiled evilly, 'we shall torture you until you confess. Proceed!' The 2 hooded men stepped forward, one taking a position in front of Isabeau's helpless tender feet, and the other moving directly behind her. Eyes wide, Isabeau began to plead, 'Please....' It was all she got out as expert fingers attacked her bare feet and her underarms, causing an explosion of long hard laughter. The techniques the men used were absolutely devastating, as Isabeau became a prisoner of forced shrieks, squeals and laughter. After 15 long minutes, the men stopped the torture, and Isabeau sagged in disbelief, not believing she had actually been granted a break. 'Well?', asked the priest, proddingly. Isabeau, breathing hard, lifted up her head , looked the priest in the eye defiantly and said, 'Go-To-Hell!' The priest arched his eye-brows in an amused and surprised way, chuckled and raised his finger - the sign to begin the tickling again. The men dived in and Isabeau once again found herself laughing hysterically. This time the men were serious! Isabeau found herself in long fits of silent laughter as cruel new tickle techniques were employed on her helpless bare feet, underarms, and ribs. During the middle of a particularly cruel and prolonged bout of silent laughter, Isabeau passed out from lack of oxygen. 'Rack her', was all the priest said, as he turned to leave. It was to be a long, torturous day of laughter for poor little Isabeau.
Several hours later, Isabeau found herself back in the bathing room, being washed and cleaned. After the bath, she was given a relaxing massage, and she purred and sighed as expert hands kneaded her flesh. She was escorted back to her cell, where another plate of food, as delicious as the night before, awaited her. Hungrily, Isabeau dug in and reflected on the past day's events. She thought of the way the stocks had closed around and held her ankles firm. She thought of being stretched tightly on the rack, and of being tortured for 3 straight hours by a single masked man who worked her body over with unbelievable precision - and a strangely, almost familiar touch. Most of all, she thought of how she hadn't broken, how she hadn't confessed... even under the worst tickle torture imaginable. Somehow, it felt empowering to her, and she grinned at the idea. Isabeau climbed onto the comfy bed and clicked on the TV. She channel surfed for a bit, finally settling on a channel which featured a sexy pig-tailed blonde strapped to a wall cross and having her underarms tickled while she screamed with laughter. Isabeau smiled, looking forward to the next day.
Isabeau woke up with the side of her face resting on soft fur. She blinked her eyes into focus, took a deep breath... and realized that she was fetchingly hog-tied on a large, fur covered bed! Her wrists and ankles were bound with strong coils of rope which were all linked to a single central ring tied to a chain which hung from the ceiling. The chain was fairly taught, ensuring Isabeau remained in the 'soles-up' position. Her attire had changed again. This time she found herself in some delicate lingerie which enhanced Isabeau's already exquisite softness, exposing her bare shoulders, legs and midriff. Her pretty bare feet hung in the air, awaiting the torturous tickling that would soon be coming. Isabeau squirmed around on the fur, testing her bonds. The fur felt lucious and sexy, and she felt her body tingling warmly as she rubbed against it. Suddenly a low female voice said, 'It feel's great, doesn't it?'. Startled, Isabeau looked around and saw a tall, stunningly beautiful woman emerge from the shadow of the far corner. The woman had long straight dark hair and wore a black satin gown which shimmered in the light as she moved forward and approached her bound victim. 'Hello, Isabeau. My name is Marie DeMontFort.', the woman said, with a slight accent. Was she the owner of this incredible place, Isabeau wondered? Marie spoke again, 'Isabeau, my darling, many people go through life never knowing what it is they truly desire. You are different. You have always known what you wanted, but you have been denied for so long that you have become painfully repressed.' The woman slid onto the bed, examining the soft curves of Isabeau's bare feet. 'These past few days have been special, as you are finally learning what it is like to be alive... and how sensitive you truly are.' The woman produced a soft feather and began running it lightly across isabeau's bound soles. Isabeau gasped, surprised that she could feel every lick and kiss of the feather - it was delightful, and she giggled and cooed while her bare feet wiggled cutely in the air. 'You have come very far in the last 2 days... but today we are going to open you up completely!' Isabeau frowned slightly at the remark, not understanding what Marie meant. Suddenly, Marie dropped the feather, and dug into Isabeau's soles with her long nails, causing Isabeau to let out a piercing shriek of laughter as the sensations penetrated her very core. The woman's skills were exceptional, moving with ease from Isabeau's feet, to her ribs, to her under-arms, to her inner thighs, always one step-ahead, driving Isabeau frantic with laughter. Marie continued to tickle Isabeau in this fashion for a solid hour, listening carefully to the petite blonde's tortured laughter, analyzing it and adjusting the tickling accordingly. The woman dug her fingers into the insides of Isabeau's hips, lingering there and sending Isabeau into silent, unescapable laughter. 'She won't break me!', Isabeau thought to herself, squeezing her eyes tight while her abdomen heaved, but no sound came out. The excruciating hip tickling went on and on, and Isabeau continued to laugh hard in silence, beginning to question whether or not she could endure such masterful torture. Suddenly she heard Marie's voice command her: 'Isabeau, let go. Submit to your feelings. Let yourself break.' Isabeau squeezed her eyes tighter and she felt tears rimming her eyes. The feverish torture continued. 'Trust me', the woman said, 'Free yourself... just let go... let go NOW!' Isabeau's eyes flew open and she let the tickling penetrate her soul. Suddenly, she felt every nerve ending come alive and she shuddered violently as she felt the 'knot' inside of her unwind, releasing years of trapped frustration. Marie relaxed her technique, moving back to Isabeau's feet, tickling them gently. Isabeau sobbed uncontrollably, feeling euphoric and incredibly alive. Marie let her cry for a little while, then slowly increased the intensity of the tickling until Isabeau was consumed again. Musical laughter poured out of Isabeau, and the woman smiled as she listened, knowing that Isabeau was now truly free, no longer a prisoner of her repressed desires. Over a period of 20 minutes, the woman continued to tickle Isabeau, winding down the intensity every minute until she was only softly stroking her feet with a single nail. Isabeau, still hog-tied, lay with the side of her face on the soft fur, tittering softly, eyes wide-open and smiling brightly. She suddenly smelled strawberries and began to doze off in a happy slumber.
'Wake up, sleepy-head!'. Isabeau opened her eyes and found herself in her own bed with her husband sitting on the side, next to her. 'Hello baby, did you have a good sleep?', her husband asked. Isabeau nodded slowly and looked around the room, wondering if it had all really happened. She slid her hands along the bedsheets and felt the palms of her hands tingle. She sat up, drew up her knees and looked up at her husband. He had been gone for awhile and she had missed him. They exchanged a light kiss and a 'welcome home' embrace. 'I have a present for you', her husband said, as he handed her a small rectangular package. She nodded again, accepting the package and pulling off the wrapper. It was a DVD case. She opened it and saw a single unmarked DVD inside. 'Here', her husband offered, 'let me play it for you.' He popped it into the bedroom DVD player and hit 'play'. A menu came up and Isabeau's eyes widened. The title said 'DeMontFort Estate Vacation Highlights'. On the screen were some slick graphics showing a beautiful estate cast in full moon-light. Shocked, Isabeau read the menu choices: Chapter 1 - Isabeau's Capture, Chapter 2 - Isabeau's Initiation, Chapter 3 - Isabeau's Interrogation, part I: The Stocks, part 2: The Rack, Chapter 4 - Isabeau's Salvation. Isabeau stared at the screen with disbelief. Suddenly, she felt her husband's hand slip under the comforter and take firm grip of her small ankle. Isabeau swiveled her head and looked into his eyes - then she knew, and her mouth dropped open. 'It was you, wasn't it?... tickling me on the rack.... but, how...', Isabeau stammered, feeling confused. 'Shhhh, Isabeau', her husband put a finger to his lips, then proceeded to tie a soft rope around her right ankle, 'There is plenty of time for explanation. But, now is the time for laughter...' With that, Isabeau's husband went about the business of tying her spread-eagled to the four corners of their king-sized bed. When he finished and made sure his beautiful wife was securely bound, he pulled a mask over his face that she had seen once before, picked up a soft feather, and twirled it between his fingers in preparation for his wife's tickling. Isabeau pulled luxuriously against the ropes, took a deep breath, and sighed with pleasure.
The End
