Mastertank1
2nd Level Yellow Feather
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In The Hands Of The Inquisition
By Mastertank1
This story was written for and in honor of Tulipangel.
The character Lady Tulip is very much based on her. 
Martin is loosely based on an idealized me. 
As always, any resemblance between any other characters and any real person, living or dead, is purely malicious.
In The Hands Of The Inquisition
In the last years of the Medieval Period, the Papacy declared a crusade. It was not against the Moslem Infidels. It was not against the Jewish unbelievers. It was against a sect called the Albigensians, fellow Christians who chose to worship Jesus in a different way than that approved by Rome.
Of course, the real issue was money. The parish priests who had turned Albigensian collected tithes and donations just like any other priest. But, Albigensian priests did not send a share of what they collected on to the office of the diocese, to be passed on to the archdiocese and the Vatican. THAT could not be tolerated.
To supervise the operations of the crusade, the church appointed a highly experienced field commander. He was a nobleman who held feudal fiefs from the thrones of both England and France and who was reputed to be the finest tactician of the age. He held a marquisate from the King of France, and his name was Lord Simon De Montfort the Elder.
His ultimate aim was to bring down the Duke and the Duchess of Provence, the most powerful supporters of the heresy. In order to get away with arresting someone that powerful and putting them to torture, he had to have an accuser whose own status would impress his superiors in the church.
Simon had a plan, and had already begun to implement that plan. The Duchess had ladies in waiting. The ranking lady among these was the Lady Tulip De Angelus, who was known to be the Duchess’ close friend and confidant.
Lady Tulip had a friend and confidant of her own. That was a member of the lesser gentry who owned a tavern near the Duke’s castle. The first stage of Simon’s plan had involved arresting a serving wench from the tavern.
The serving wench had been tortured into confessing to heresy and implicating the tavern owner. There were no marks or bruises to show that the wench had been tortured. That was no accident.
De Montfort used a form of torture that never left marks, when the accused was female. That torture was tickling. De Montfort was fond of saying that tickling left no marks on the body. Only the victim’s mind would be scarred.
Using the evidence tortured from the unwilling wench, Simon had arrested the tavern owner. That was stage two. The tavern owner had been tortured into confessing to heresy and implicating Lady Tulip. That was stage three.
Lady tulip had just been arrested. The men at arms of the inquisition dragged her into the dungeons of castle De Montfort. The dungeon was chill, damp, dimly lit by braziers and flickering torches in wall sconces, and scary.
De Montfort sat in a raised throne of heavily carved wood, set against one wall. He, as always, would not personally participate hands on in the torture. The huge, ironbound wooden beams of the door were to his left, in the same wall his throne was backed up to.
Against the wall to his right sat two scribes, with vellum, ink and pens, to record all that was said. Directly in front of him was an odd device for the restraint of the human body.
The base of the wooden structure was four feet by three, with one three foot end facing the throne. The sides tapered in as they rose thirty inches, so that the padded top was three feet by two.
That padded top rose another ten inches as it ran from the edge closest to the throne to the edge farthest from the throne. There was a complicated looking arrangement of straps at the high end.
Two heavy iron bars were set into the ceiling. They ran straight down, and ended in the air two feet beyond the lower end of the pedestal and two feet above that lowest edge of the padded top. They were linked by a horizontal bar welded in place. A leather cuff hung from each right angle of this three sided iron structure.
Lady Tulip stood to the left of the pedestal, from Simon’s viewpoint. Each of her arms was held fast by an inquisitorial guard. Behind her left shoulder stood Martin, the chief torture master to the grand inquisitor.
Since becoming De Montfort’s man, Martin had really enjoyed his work. The two scribes were dried up, skinny ancients, and were each about 5’5”. De Montfort himself showed the wiry fitness of a warrior grown old and stood 5’10”.
The two soldiers were a bit bulkier than Simon but much shorter, being of average build. The taller stood 5’7”, the other was just 5’5”. To an observer it would have seemed that more than half of the total male body volume in the room was concentrated in the massive body of Martin the torturer.
Martin stood 5’9”. In his leather calf boots, leather short pants, and leather hood he looked darkly impressive. His deeply tanned arms and legs were banded and corded with muscle. His thick waist was lean and solid, his chest wide and deep, his shoulders piled high with sinew.
Through the eyeholes of the hood he wore, his black eyes fairly snapped with power and energy. To Tulip, who kept glancing at Martin from the corner of her eye, it appeared that the breadth of his vast shoulders was equal to those of the two soldiers who held her combined. Even the fingers of his big hands were heavy with muscle striations. Something about his look thrilled her.
Simon, in a voice that had bellowed orders that commanded armies above the din of war, said; “Strip her.”, gesturing to the two soldiers.
They swiftly and forcibly disrobed her, doing some damage to her garments in the process. Tulip’s exotic looks had already caught Martin’s attention. Her jetty black hair with it’s gleaming blue highlights made a remarkable contrast with Tulip’s healthy pink complexion and honey-amber eyes.
The sweet, sexy curves of her full, womanly figure were all the more arresting on a frame just 5’2” in height. The strong muscles of her legs were concealed by just enough feminine flesh to make them sleek and sexy instead of starkly angular.
Tulip’s firm, rounded ass, her sleek thighs, her wide hips that looked like a cradle of carnal delights, all caught and held the attention of every man present. The gentle curve of her soft belly with it’s very deep navel, her shapely torso, her impressive, firm, well rounded breasts and well rounded feminine arms all added to her attraction. Martin was eager to see her slippers come off.
At DeMontfort’s signal, Martin lifted Tulip onto the pedestal. The two soldiers crossed her forearms behind her head and fastened each wrist to the opposite corner of the high end of the device.
Martin held Tulip’s struggling legs up in place while the soldiers fastened the leather cuffs around her ankles. Her legs were now attached to the enigmatic iron frame which depended from the ceiling of the chamber.
Concealing his eagerness, Martin removed Tulip’s slippers. The flesh of her bare size 5.5 feet looked a little bit puffy, as though from her duties as lady in waiting, which involved standing up and walking around all day long. Martin knew, feet like that were often exquisitely tender and sensitive.
Surreptitiously, Martin could not resist blowing a soft breath on those tender looking soles before moving away. When he did, Tulip had to suppress a fleeting smile, and her shapely feet wriggled. Martin’s hood concealed a big grin. He was right; Tulip’s feet were unusually sensitive, quite delightfully ticklish. This afternoon would be fun. For him, at least.
De Montfort said; “Feathers. Soft ones. Goose quills, I think. The soft parts.”
Martin opened a cabinet against the wall opposite the one where the scribes sat. It displayed a wide assortment of feathers. Martin chose two long gray goose feathers, broad and soft, coming to points. These would do well.
De Montfort said; “Forehead strap. Start with her head.”
Martin fastened a wide, padded leather strap across Tulip’s brow. Then, he began gently stroking her cheeks with the feathers. Tulip was puzzled at first. Then she was smiling, then starting to giggle.
She told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. It kept tickling more, and she kept giggling louder. Then Simon said; “Pause, Martin. Miss Angelus, the tickling will keep getting worse. You can stop it whenever you wish by two acts. First, you must confess yourself guilty of heresy. Second, you must name the Duke and Duchess of Provence as fellow heretics, and sign the confession. That is what I require of you.”
Tulip replied; “But, but I’m innocent! And as far as I know, so are they!”
“Neither true, nor relevant my dear. The only things which are of moment to you at this time are these; the tickling will keep getting worse, and it will not stop until you confess heresy and name the Duke and Duchess as those who led you into apostasy. Martin, throat.”
Martin teased Tulip’s soft and smooth throat with the feathers. Her sweet giggles took on a gurgling quality as the throat muscles rippled under the tease of the feathers. She tried her best to protect her throat by gaping her mouth wide, but the way the brow strap held her head rendered that ineffective.
Simon said; “Neck.”
Martin now teased Tulip’s neck with the feathers. She giggled. She really, really didn’t want to giggle, but the feathers were tickling too much.
As the head of the Duchess’ ladies in waiting, Lady Tulip habitually went about her day with a stern and commanding expression on her lovely face. After two years in the job, the expression had become habitual. Now, it was proving impossible.
Martin could see Tulip’s struggle. He found it amusing. The woman kept trying to keep up that stern, cool, commanding expression. The tease of the feathers along her neck made her keep losing control of her facial expression. The smiles and grins kept defeating her grim self control, but the giggles were best.
Martin could see the distress on the face of this proud, helpless beauty as the feathers kept making her hard held dignity dissolve into sweet, girlish giggling! He loved it. He also loved something else that he noticed.
The tickling was starting to turn Tulip on, very much against her will! Despite all her furious resolve, Tulip’s nipples were starting to rise. And the room was not cold. There were too many braziers of charcoal and high flaring torches for that. Under his featureless mask, Martin grinned like an evil Hyena.
Simon said; “Ears.”
Martin brushed Tulip’s sable tresses back, fully exposing her delicate ears, which he started to graze with the points of the feathers. Tulip’s gorgeous, honey-amber eyes opened wide at the first wicked, ticklish sensations; “Oh, NOOOOOOO!” Tulip screamed.
“Oh God, no ho ho ho! No! It tickles! No! Please, no! Hee heeeeeeeee! Stooooop it! Pleeeheeeheeeze! EeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Tulip was laughing and screaming alternately, seriously out of control and hating it. In between laughing and screaming, she kept thinking; “God damnit, why is this weird torture making my nipples hard? As if being forced to lie screaming and laughing this way weren’t humiliating enough!”
The faces of Simon and the scribes remained impassive, and Martin’s was hidden, but the two soldiers openly smirked at her helpless responsiveness. Tulip was furious! Then, Simon said; “Belly.”
Martin at once began grazing the long silky sides of the feathers across the silky smooth skin of Tulips’ rounded little belly. The screaming was gone, but she couldn’t stop laughing! She tried, and she tried but it tickled so damn much the laughs just kept forcing their way through her clenched teeth and tightly pursed lips.
It was maddening! Then she discovered that Martin’s definition of belly included her sleek ribcage, which tickled just as much, and her groin, which tickled much worse.
When those feathers played with her groin, Tulip involuntarily bucked like a wild horse. She couldn’t believe how incredibly ticklish that felt. Martin quickly discerned that the strongest response in this area came when he tickled the creases were thigh met trunk. Therefore, he concentrated his attentions in those spots, again and again and again, much to Tulip’s distress.
Martin loved forcing those lush, sexy, womanly hips to keep bucking and bucking while Tulip kept laughing and laughing! “Dear Lord!” He thought; “What a glorious sight to behold! What a lovely sweet sound to be hearing.”
The groin tickling kept Tulip’s nipples growing slowly but steadily, and began making her labia swell too. Her face was bright red from embarrassment. Simon said; “Teats.”
Tulip tried desperately to shake her head no; it was quite useless. No one was paying attention. The feathers began making circles around and around Tulip’s big, rounded, desperately sensitive breasts. She convulsed at the first touch, and then laughed so hard, so wild, so out of control. Tulip couldn’t believe she was this ticklish! Her luscious torso twisted from side to side in heedless desperation. Tulip was frantically trying to twist her ticklish breasts away from those feathers!
Her nipples were now very clearly erect and announcing her helpless arousal. Her also kept swelling. Her lovely face contorted into a grimace of mirth that she could not smooth out, and she laughed.
Oh, how she laughed, laughed and laughed! “Why, dear God, why, are my breasts so damn ticklish?! WHY?!!” Tulip thought. There was no reply, only more tickling. It seemed that her breasts had been tickled forever when Simon said; “Flanks.”
And the feathers were tickling her sides. Tulip’s laughter rang out anew, loud, hot and sweet. Martin was drinking it in. His dark hood hid the frank admiration that shone from his face. “What a woman!” He thought. “Oh, my yes! WHAT a woman!”
‘Stohahahaop! Ha ha! Stohahap tickleeheeheeheehing meeheeheehee!” Tulip laughed. Martin loved hearing the plaintive, begging note in her voice. And he loved how the harder she struggled the more her sweet woman flesh jiggled.
Martin had grown highly skilled at this tickling for torture since Simon De Montfort had hired him on. More than that, he enjoyed it a lot more than whippings and beatings.
Oh, he still whipped and beat men, that was never a problem for Martin, but using those violent, damaging methods on women had always disturbed Martin. Tickling the women was more to his liking. Especially sexily fully fleshed women like Tulip!
Beneath his hood, Martin was hungrily licking his lips as he gazed upon Tulip’s fair body. He WILLED her to break and confess, so the others would leave her alone with him!
Simon said; “Underarms.” Martin complied, and the feathers were grazing Tulips’ soft, slightly sweaty armpits. Poor, ticklish Tulip! It tickled so bad, and it forced her to laugh, and to struggle, so hard!
And there wasn’t a thing she could do! She just lay on her back, bound and helpless, while feathers kept stroking her deep, ticklish armpits and laughter kept pouring and pouring between her now wide open, sensuous lips. It was torture. Such terrible, terrible torture. So why was it making her feel so incredibly horny?
Tulip felt wetness between her legs, welling up. She hadn’t felt this way since that sweet boy who had told her he loved her, and asked her to marry, and then gone away and been killed in some damn foolish war. His kiss had filled her with this warm, sweet feeling of wetness and eagerness. Why was she feeling it now?
Simon said; “Now, Lady Tulip. Are you ready to confess?”
“Ha ha ha! But, ha ha ha, I’m Innocehehehehent! Pleheheheze! I suhuhuweaheahear! Waaaaaahaahaaahaaa!!”
Simon said; “Thighs.”
Obediently, Martin began to stroke Tulips’ sleek thighs with the feathers. He began on the tops of her thighs, then grazed down the outer sides and around to the tender backs. This tickled less, but it made her so desperately horny!
Martin was eagerly watching her face and her body, enjoying the signs of her growing arousal.
The teasing was starting to drive Tulip crazy. She needed release, and she knew that she dare not ask these churchmen for it! Tears began gathering now in those lovely, exotic eyes. Simon said; “Pause now.”
Martin paused. Tulip gasped for breath, trying to gain some control of her body. Simon said; Confess now. Confess and condemn.”
“But I can’t. It’s not true!”
Shaking his head as if sorrowful, Simon said; “Legs.”
Tulip had time for one wail of negation before the soft kiss of the feathers commanded her laughter again. The hollows behind her cute, plump little knees and the sexy, broad curves of her calves were amazingly ticklish.
Within seconds her laughter was totally out of control. The peals of forced merriment took on a wild note of true despair. “Oh God, let me Die!” The defenseless woman thought. “I can NOT be this ticklish!”
The muscles in poor Tulip’s calves were convulsing and starting to cramp. Her entire body was straining to pull her legs away from the truly insupportable tickle. Her lovely eyes were tearing freely now. Her limit was near. She could take little more. Simon said; “Feet.”
Tulip screamed; “NOOOO!!! Not my feet! I confess! I confess! I’m a heretic! Stop! I confess! No more tickling! Please! Not my feet!”
Simon replied, as the scribes wrote busily; “Good. Now, the names of your heretic mentors, who led you astray?”
“Please, no I can’t! They’re both innocent! They’ve been so good to me. Don’t make me name them. Please.”
Simon said; “Feet, Martin.”
The very first stroke of the feathers across Tulip’s sensitive soles had her exploding in utter hysteria. Before her last breath was completely consumed in the new, wild peals of forced merriment, Tulip screamed out; “Duke Henri! Duchess Elayne! Please, No more!”
Simon asked; “What about the duke and the duchess of Provence?”
“They were the ones (gasp) who led me into (gasp) heresy. (Gasp. Gasp. Gasp.) They were my mentors.(Gasp).”
“Very good. That’s all we need. Gentlemen, we go.”
Simon De Montfort, his scribes. And his two soldiers swept out the door. Martin walked over to the door and swung it shut, then slid the locking bar home.
He stopped at the writing desk to pick the feathers back up, and approached Tulip. Tulip looked at him apprehensively. Then at the feathers in his hand. She said; “The Inquisitor said you were through with me?”
“He may through with you, pretty one. You have given him all that he wanted of you. I, though, have not yet begun to receive what I want of you.”
Speaking these words, Martin kept on advancing on Tulip. He whipped off the big leather hood, to reveal one of the handsomest male faces Tulip had ever seen. His jet black moustache and beard matched his eyebrows and leonine mane.
“Wh...Wh...what do you want of me?”
“I want you, my juicy little beauty. All of you. I want you for mine, heart and mind, body and soul.”
By now he was standing alongside her. Stroking the feathers across her still erect nipples provoked her to wild, helpless laughter and maddening arousal again; then he leaned in and covered her wide open mouth with a deep, wet, possessive kiss.
Tulip felt her arousal and ticklishness both take off into the sky, but the strangest thing was, with the kiss from this handsome and powerful man thrown in, now she was starting to like how it felt. She was actually enjoying her helplessness, her ticklishness, her frantic arousal, her eager anticipation that soon Martin would do something to relieve that last problem!
He would, but not as soon as Tulip hoped; you see, Martin had discovered that he had a fetish for tickling. He really enjoyed tickling a beautiful woman like Tulip. Her defenselessness, her helplessness, her loss of control turned him on more than anything else ever had.
Martin put down the feathers and started to tease Tulip’s breasts with his hands. Tulip laughed wildly, but happily. Feeling his hands on her breasts as he tickled them felt so damn good! Especially when he kept leaning his head down to nibble her nipples, which now were so hard they were starting to throb.
Each time Martin stifled Tulip’s frantic laughter by kissing her mouth, she experienced a huge pleasure rush. The very small part of her mind that was doing anything but feel and enjoy marveled; in mere seconds, Martin had turned the most unbearable torture into the most irresistible, enticing pleasure she had ever felt.
Martin could feel the change in Tulip’s movements, hear the change in her laughter. The change was from; “Leave me alone, I can’t stand anymore!” to “Come get me lover, I can’t get enough!”
It would be Martin’s pleasure and joy to oblige. Now he started to tickle Tulip’s sleek ribcage. That felt so good to Martin. He loved the sensation of her womanly flesh softly sliding and rolling between his fingers and her rib bones. He loved the sweet sound of her laughter.
Martin shook himself back to alertness; he had lost himself in the wonderful sensations of tormenting and teasing this delightfully ticklish, exquisitely sexy woman. Martin did not want to wear Tulip out before getting to his favorite parts.
Martin had noticed that Tulip’s legs seemed even more ticklish than her sides, and more so as one moved down closer to her feet. Now Martin tickled her thighs. Tulip laughed even harder, and bucked her hips enticingly. She wanted Martin to take her right now, but she had to admit that she was really enjoying the tickling he was giving her.
As long as the others were watching, Martin had avoided touching Tulip’s tender inner thighs; now he concentrated his caresses there. The effect on the helpless Tulip was devastating. Every gentle stroke of those big, powerful hands sent a vast wave of pleasure, arousal, lust and ticklishness flooding through Tulip’s entire being.
Tulip’s loud, wild laughter had taken on a happy tone. Those fingertips gliding over and gently kneading her sensitive inner thighs were carrying her away on a cloud of pleasure while making her laugh uncontrollably. This was so crazy!
Then Martin started to tickle Tulip’s legs. “Oh!” Tulip thought; “Oh, no! The backs of my knees are too ticklish! I can’t take this! No! But it feels so good! Yeeeeeheeeheeeheee!”
Even her thoughts were now being invaded by ticklish laughter! Those fingertips wickedly grazing her calves tickled soooo much. It grew more unbearable, second by second, and yet she did not really want it to stop. Not really.
Martin was standing between Tulip’s raised and spread legs now, and all of a sudden his hands left her legs. When Tulip’s eyes refocused, he was reaching to pick up the feathers he had let fall before.
Tulip was puzzled, as she gasped for control of her breathing. What? Why? OH!
By this time her nipples and labia were as fully engorged as was physically possible, practically sitting up and begging for further attention. Which they now got.
Martin was wickedly teasing her labia with both feathers. Tulip was just uncontrollably chortling and laughing and howling. Her luscious hips were enticingly rolling and thrusting and bucking in a manner that Martin found lasciviously delightful. God, how he wanted this woman! And now, he would have her!
At first, Tulip was disappointed when the tickling stopped. When her eyes refocused to where Martin had stepped back, she saw him unbutton his shorts. As he dropped them and stepped out of them, her disappointment vanished. Just like the rest of him, Martin’s erection was well within normal for length, but very, very thick. The thought of that in her excited Tulip immensely.
Unthinkingly demonstrating his enormous strength, Martin grasped the pedestal with both hands, lifted it about an inch and moved it towards himself. When he put it (and her) back down, Tulip’s now deeply bent knees almost touched her shoulders. Her heels were fractions of an inch from touching the backs of her thighs.
Martin stepped forward to enter Tulip, finding her hot, wet and eagerly ready. She felt him slide all the way in, sending a sweep of sweet stimulation from her clit and her spot. Tulip was only dimly aware that all ten of his fingers were now poised on the heels of her feet.
When those fingers made contact, Tulip was electrified. As ticklish as she was everywhere, the bottoms of her feet were by far Tulip’s most ticklish places.
When the pads of Martin’s fingertips, carefully keeping the nails out of contact, began making soft pinching motions from the edges of both heels in towards the centers, Tulip laughed instantly, louder and harder and wilder than ever before. The incredible, irresistibly sweet ticklish torture made Tulip’s hips roll uncontrollably, rubbing her trigger points so perfectly that it took less than a minute for Tulip to cum.
The light, surface only pinching motions were transferred from Tulip’s heels to the balls of her feet. This made her laugh even harder, and squirm even more erotically, and then she was hit by the hormones released when she came, which increased her ticklishness to almost twice it’s previous level.
Martin felt Tulip’s lush body climax a second time, then moved those same, tickly, pinching motions to the flats of her soles. This tickled Tulip even worse, and it felt even better to both of them.
Merrily, happily laughing, Tulip felt tortured beyond her ability to endure and yet pleasured so wonderfully! She wanted the awful tickling to stop right this second, and yet at the same time she wanted the pleasure to go on forever. She came again. Then he was suddenly tickling her toes!
Tulip’s toes wiggled frantically. Her legs and feet strained to escape. Her entire body seemed to contribute to making her laughter as loud and as wild as possible. Having a man deep inside of her while he was tickling her toes sent Tulip into a kind of tickle tortured heaven. She came, and she came, and she came again.
Then those unbearably wonderful fingertips moved from her toes to her even more ticklishly sensitive arches, and Tulip’s entire sensorium simply exploded with pleasure and joy. She was in pure, ticklish ecstasy, absolutely howling with laughter and having the longest and most intense orgasms ever, one after the other.
Martin was reveling in poor, helpless Tulip’s defenseless responsiveness. One final touch now, as Martin leaned forward and covered her mouth with his kiss. That added measure of helplessness made Tulip feel as if she had suddenly doubled her ticklishness again. It turned her series of explosive climaxes into a single, impossibly sustained orgasmic eruption, amplified by the fact that the stopping of her laughter by Martin’s kiss seemed to create a feedback loop sending her higher and higher into the stratosphere of pleasure.
Then Tulip felt Martin’s climax. It flooded her insides. She felt herself floating away on great tidal bore of sheer physical pleasure combined with the most wonderful torturous ticklishness ever!
Both of their orgasms finally peaked and began to subside, and Martin began to ease off on the tickling of Tulip’s delectably tender feet. After a few minutes, Tulip began softly mewling in mild protest.
Martin had continued the tickling, now very lightly indeed, on the tops of Tulip’s feet and toes, just because he enjoyed the soft sound of her helpless giggling and the look of innocent, tormented pleasure on her lovely face. Now he stopped, and he gently kissed her as he unbound her.
Lifting her sturdy body with no apparent effort, Martin carried Tulip to the pallet behind a screen where he often slept. Lying beside her, cradling her in his arms like a baby, he whispered to her how his word that she had recanted her heresy would save her from burning at the stake. It would even allow her to keep her own property and gain a small share of that which would be confiscated from the duke. As long as she gave herself to him, to be bound and tickled and loved, he would protect her.
Tulip smiled; “To be bound, and tickled, and loved, like you just did?”
“Yes. Like I just did.”
“MMmmmmm! That, I can live with. Yes!”
As always, any comments and illustrations are welcome.
By Mastertank1
This story was written for and in honor of Tulipangel.
The character Lady Tulip is very much based on her. Martin is loosely based on an idealized me. As always, any resemblance between any other characters and any real person, living or dead, is purely malicious.
In The Hands Of The Inquisition
In the last years of the Medieval Period, the Papacy declared a crusade. It was not against the Moslem Infidels. It was not against the Jewish unbelievers. It was against a sect called the Albigensians, fellow Christians who chose to worship Jesus in a different way than that approved by Rome.
Of course, the real issue was money. The parish priests who had turned Albigensian collected tithes and donations just like any other priest. But, Albigensian priests did not send a share of what they collected on to the office of the diocese, to be passed on to the archdiocese and the Vatican. THAT could not be tolerated.
To supervise the operations of the crusade, the church appointed a highly experienced field commander. He was a nobleman who held feudal fiefs from the thrones of both England and France and who was reputed to be the finest tactician of the age. He held a marquisate from the King of France, and his name was Lord Simon De Montfort the Elder.
His ultimate aim was to bring down the Duke and the Duchess of Provence, the most powerful supporters of the heresy. In order to get away with arresting someone that powerful and putting them to torture, he had to have an accuser whose own status would impress his superiors in the church.
Simon had a plan, and had already begun to implement that plan. The Duchess had ladies in waiting. The ranking lady among these was the Lady Tulip De Angelus, who was known to be the Duchess’ close friend and confidant.
Lady Tulip had a friend and confidant of her own. That was a member of the lesser gentry who owned a tavern near the Duke’s castle. The first stage of Simon’s plan had involved arresting a serving wench from the tavern.
The serving wench had been tortured into confessing to heresy and implicating the tavern owner. There were no marks or bruises to show that the wench had been tortured. That was no accident.
De Montfort used a form of torture that never left marks, when the accused was female. That torture was tickling. De Montfort was fond of saying that tickling left no marks on the body. Only the victim’s mind would be scarred.
Using the evidence tortured from the unwilling wench, Simon had arrested the tavern owner. That was stage two. The tavern owner had been tortured into confessing to heresy and implicating Lady Tulip. That was stage three.
Lady tulip had just been arrested. The men at arms of the inquisition dragged her into the dungeons of castle De Montfort. The dungeon was chill, damp, dimly lit by braziers and flickering torches in wall sconces, and scary.
De Montfort sat in a raised throne of heavily carved wood, set against one wall. He, as always, would not personally participate hands on in the torture. The huge, ironbound wooden beams of the door were to his left, in the same wall his throne was backed up to.
Against the wall to his right sat two scribes, with vellum, ink and pens, to record all that was said. Directly in front of him was an odd device for the restraint of the human body.
The base of the wooden structure was four feet by three, with one three foot end facing the throne. The sides tapered in as they rose thirty inches, so that the padded top was three feet by two.
That padded top rose another ten inches as it ran from the edge closest to the throne to the edge farthest from the throne. There was a complicated looking arrangement of straps at the high end.
Two heavy iron bars were set into the ceiling. They ran straight down, and ended in the air two feet beyond the lower end of the pedestal and two feet above that lowest edge of the padded top. They were linked by a horizontal bar welded in place. A leather cuff hung from each right angle of this three sided iron structure.
Lady Tulip stood to the left of the pedestal, from Simon’s viewpoint. Each of her arms was held fast by an inquisitorial guard. Behind her left shoulder stood Martin, the chief torture master to the grand inquisitor.
Since becoming De Montfort’s man, Martin had really enjoyed his work. The two scribes were dried up, skinny ancients, and were each about 5’5”. De Montfort himself showed the wiry fitness of a warrior grown old and stood 5’10”.
The two soldiers were a bit bulkier than Simon but much shorter, being of average build. The taller stood 5’7”, the other was just 5’5”. To an observer it would have seemed that more than half of the total male body volume in the room was concentrated in the massive body of Martin the torturer.
Martin stood 5’9”. In his leather calf boots, leather short pants, and leather hood he looked darkly impressive. His deeply tanned arms and legs were banded and corded with muscle. His thick waist was lean and solid, his chest wide and deep, his shoulders piled high with sinew.
Through the eyeholes of the hood he wore, his black eyes fairly snapped with power and energy. To Tulip, who kept glancing at Martin from the corner of her eye, it appeared that the breadth of his vast shoulders was equal to those of the two soldiers who held her combined. Even the fingers of his big hands were heavy with muscle striations. Something about his look thrilled her.
Simon, in a voice that had bellowed orders that commanded armies above the din of war, said; “Strip her.”, gesturing to the two soldiers.
They swiftly and forcibly disrobed her, doing some damage to her garments in the process. Tulip’s exotic looks had already caught Martin’s attention. Her jetty black hair with it’s gleaming blue highlights made a remarkable contrast with Tulip’s healthy pink complexion and honey-amber eyes.
The sweet, sexy curves of her full, womanly figure were all the more arresting on a frame just 5’2” in height. The strong muscles of her legs were concealed by just enough feminine flesh to make them sleek and sexy instead of starkly angular.
Tulip’s firm, rounded ass, her sleek thighs, her wide hips that looked like a cradle of carnal delights, all caught and held the attention of every man present. The gentle curve of her soft belly with it’s very deep navel, her shapely torso, her impressive, firm, well rounded breasts and well rounded feminine arms all added to her attraction. Martin was eager to see her slippers come off.
At DeMontfort’s signal, Martin lifted Tulip onto the pedestal. The two soldiers crossed her forearms behind her head and fastened each wrist to the opposite corner of the high end of the device.
Martin held Tulip’s struggling legs up in place while the soldiers fastened the leather cuffs around her ankles. Her legs were now attached to the enigmatic iron frame which depended from the ceiling of the chamber.
Concealing his eagerness, Martin removed Tulip’s slippers. The flesh of her bare size 5.5 feet looked a little bit puffy, as though from her duties as lady in waiting, which involved standing up and walking around all day long. Martin knew, feet like that were often exquisitely tender and sensitive.
Surreptitiously, Martin could not resist blowing a soft breath on those tender looking soles before moving away. When he did, Tulip had to suppress a fleeting smile, and her shapely feet wriggled. Martin’s hood concealed a big grin. He was right; Tulip’s feet were unusually sensitive, quite delightfully ticklish. This afternoon would be fun. For him, at least.
De Montfort said; “Feathers. Soft ones. Goose quills, I think. The soft parts.”
Martin opened a cabinet against the wall opposite the one where the scribes sat. It displayed a wide assortment of feathers. Martin chose two long gray goose feathers, broad and soft, coming to points. These would do well.
De Montfort said; “Forehead strap. Start with her head.”
Martin fastened a wide, padded leather strap across Tulip’s brow. Then, he began gently stroking her cheeks with the feathers. Tulip was puzzled at first. Then she was smiling, then starting to giggle.
She told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. It kept tickling more, and she kept giggling louder. Then Simon said; “Pause, Martin. Miss Angelus, the tickling will keep getting worse. You can stop it whenever you wish by two acts. First, you must confess yourself guilty of heresy. Second, you must name the Duke and Duchess of Provence as fellow heretics, and sign the confession. That is what I require of you.”
Tulip replied; “But, but I’m innocent! And as far as I know, so are they!”
“Neither true, nor relevant my dear. The only things which are of moment to you at this time are these; the tickling will keep getting worse, and it will not stop until you confess heresy and name the Duke and Duchess as those who led you into apostasy. Martin, throat.”
Martin teased Tulip’s soft and smooth throat with the feathers. Her sweet giggles took on a gurgling quality as the throat muscles rippled under the tease of the feathers. She tried her best to protect her throat by gaping her mouth wide, but the way the brow strap held her head rendered that ineffective.
Simon said; “Neck.”
Martin now teased Tulip’s neck with the feathers. She giggled. She really, really didn’t want to giggle, but the feathers were tickling too much.
As the head of the Duchess’ ladies in waiting, Lady Tulip habitually went about her day with a stern and commanding expression on her lovely face. After two years in the job, the expression had become habitual. Now, it was proving impossible.
Martin could see Tulip’s struggle. He found it amusing. The woman kept trying to keep up that stern, cool, commanding expression. The tease of the feathers along her neck made her keep losing control of her facial expression. The smiles and grins kept defeating her grim self control, but the giggles were best.
Martin could see the distress on the face of this proud, helpless beauty as the feathers kept making her hard held dignity dissolve into sweet, girlish giggling! He loved it. He also loved something else that he noticed.
The tickling was starting to turn Tulip on, very much against her will! Despite all her furious resolve, Tulip’s nipples were starting to rise. And the room was not cold. There were too many braziers of charcoal and high flaring torches for that. Under his featureless mask, Martin grinned like an evil Hyena.
Simon said; “Ears.”
Martin brushed Tulip’s sable tresses back, fully exposing her delicate ears, which he started to graze with the points of the feathers. Tulip’s gorgeous, honey-amber eyes opened wide at the first wicked, ticklish sensations; “Oh, NOOOOOOO!” Tulip screamed.
“Oh God, no ho ho ho! No! It tickles! No! Please, no! Hee heeeeeeeee! Stooooop it! Pleeeheeeheeeze! EeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”
Tulip was laughing and screaming alternately, seriously out of control and hating it. In between laughing and screaming, she kept thinking; “God damnit, why is this weird torture making my nipples hard? As if being forced to lie screaming and laughing this way weren’t humiliating enough!”
The faces of Simon and the scribes remained impassive, and Martin’s was hidden, but the two soldiers openly smirked at her helpless responsiveness. Tulip was furious! Then, Simon said; “Belly.”
Martin at once began grazing the long silky sides of the feathers across the silky smooth skin of Tulips’ rounded little belly. The screaming was gone, but she couldn’t stop laughing! She tried, and she tried but it tickled so damn much the laughs just kept forcing their way through her clenched teeth and tightly pursed lips.
It was maddening! Then she discovered that Martin’s definition of belly included her sleek ribcage, which tickled just as much, and her groin, which tickled much worse.
When those feathers played with her groin, Tulip involuntarily bucked like a wild horse. She couldn’t believe how incredibly ticklish that felt. Martin quickly discerned that the strongest response in this area came when he tickled the creases were thigh met trunk. Therefore, he concentrated his attentions in those spots, again and again and again, much to Tulip’s distress.
Martin loved forcing those lush, sexy, womanly hips to keep bucking and bucking while Tulip kept laughing and laughing! “Dear Lord!” He thought; “What a glorious sight to behold! What a lovely sweet sound to be hearing.”
The groin tickling kept Tulip’s nipples growing slowly but steadily, and began making her labia swell too. Her face was bright red from embarrassment. Simon said; “Teats.”
Tulip tried desperately to shake her head no; it was quite useless. No one was paying attention. The feathers began making circles around and around Tulip’s big, rounded, desperately sensitive breasts. She convulsed at the first touch, and then laughed so hard, so wild, so out of control. Tulip couldn’t believe she was this ticklish! Her luscious torso twisted from side to side in heedless desperation. Tulip was frantically trying to twist her ticklish breasts away from those feathers!
Her nipples were now very clearly erect and announcing her helpless arousal. Her also kept swelling. Her lovely face contorted into a grimace of mirth that she could not smooth out, and she laughed.
Oh, how she laughed, laughed and laughed! “Why, dear God, why, are my breasts so damn ticklish?! WHY?!!” Tulip thought. There was no reply, only more tickling. It seemed that her breasts had been tickled forever when Simon said; “Flanks.”
And the feathers were tickling her sides. Tulip’s laughter rang out anew, loud, hot and sweet. Martin was drinking it in. His dark hood hid the frank admiration that shone from his face. “What a woman!” He thought. “Oh, my yes! WHAT a woman!”
‘Stohahahaop! Ha ha! Stohahap tickleeheeheeheehing meeheeheehee!” Tulip laughed. Martin loved hearing the plaintive, begging note in her voice. And he loved how the harder she struggled the more her sweet woman flesh jiggled.
Martin had grown highly skilled at this tickling for torture since Simon De Montfort had hired him on. More than that, he enjoyed it a lot more than whippings and beatings.
Oh, he still whipped and beat men, that was never a problem for Martin, but using those violent, damaging methods on women had always disturbed Martin. Tickling the women was more to his liking. Especially sexily fully fleshed women like Tulip!
Beneath his hood, Martin was hungrily licking his lips as he gazed upon Tulip’s fair body. He WILLED her to break and confess, so the others would leave her alone with him!
Simon said; “Underarms.” Martin complied, and the feathers were grazing Tulips’ soft, slightly sweaty armpits. Poor, ticklish Tulip! It tickled so bad, and it forced her to laugh, and to struggle, so hard!
And there wasn’t a thing she could do! She just lay on her back, bound and helpless, while feathers kept stroking her deep, ticklish armpits and laughter kept pouring and pouring between her now wide open, sensuous lips. It was torture. Such terrible, terrible torture. So why was it making her feel so incredibly horny?
Tulip felt wetness between her legs, welling up. She hadn’t felt this way since that sweet boy who had told her he loved her, and asked her to marry, and then gone away and been killed in some damn foolish war. His kiss had filled her with this warm, sweet feeling of wetness and eagerness. Why was she feeling it now?
Simon said; “Now, Lady Tulip. Are you ready to confess?”
“Ha ha ha! But, ha ha ha, I’m Innocehehehehent! Pleheheheze! I suhuhuweaheahear! Waaaaaahaahaaahaaa!!”
Simon said; “Thighs.”
Obediently, Martin began to stroke Tulips’ sleek thighs with the feathers. He began on the tops of her thighs, then grazed down the outer sides and around to the tender backs. This tickled less, but it made her so desperately horny!
Martin was eagerly watching her face and her body, enjoying the signs of her growing arousal.
The teasing was starting to drive Tulip crazy. She needed release, and she knew that she dare not ask these churchmen for it! Tears began gathering now in those lovely, exotic eyes. Simon said; “Pause now.”
Martin paused. Tulip gasped for breath, trying to gain some control of her body. Simon said; Confess now. Confess and condemn.”
“But I can’t. It’s not true!”
Shaking his head as if sorrowful, Simon said; “Legs.”
Tulip had time for one wail of negation before the soft kiss of the feathers commanded her laughter again. The hollows behind her cute, plump little knees and the sexy, broad curves of her calves were amazingly ticklish.
Within seconds her laughter was totally out of control. The peals of forced merriment took on a wild note of true despair. “Oh God, let me Die!” The defenseless woman thought. “I can NOT be this ticklish!”
The muscles in poor Tulip’s calves were convulsing and starting to cramp. Her entire body was straining to pull her legs away from the truly insupportable tickle. Her lovely eyes were tearing freely now. Her limit was near. She could take little more. Simon said; “Feet.”
Tulip screamed; “NOOOO!!! Not my feet! I confess! I confess! I’m a heretic! Stop! I confess! No more tickling! Please! Not my feet!”
Simon replied, as the scribes wrote busily; “Good. Now, the names of your heretic mentors, who led you astray?”
“Please, no I can’t! They’re both innocent! They’ve been so good to me. Don’t make me name them. Please.”
Simon said; “Feet, Martin.”
The very first stroke of the feathers across Tulip’s sensitive soles had her exploding in utter hysteria. Before her last breath was completely consumed in the new, wild peals of forced merriment, Tulip screamed out; “Duke Henri! Duchess Elayne! Please, No more!”
Simon asked; “What about the duke and the duchess of Provence?”
“They were the ones (gasp) who led me into (gasp) heresy. (Gasp. Gasp. Gasp.) They were my mentors.(Gasp).”
“Very good. That’s all we need. Gentlemen, we go.”
Simon De Montfort, his scribes. And his two soldiers swept out the door. Martin walked over to the door and swung it shut, then slid the locking bar home.
He stopped at the writing desk to pick the feathers back up, and approached Tulip. Tulip looked at him apprehensively. Then at the feathers in his hand. She said; “The Inquisitor said you were through with me?”
“He may through with you, pretty one. You have given him all that he wanted of you. I, though, have not yet begun to receive what I want of you.”
Speaking these words, Martin kept on advancing on Tulip. He whipped off the big leather hood, to reveal one of the handsomest male faces Tulip had ever seen. His jet black moustache and beard matched his eyebrows and leonine mane.
“Wh...Wh...what do you want of me?”
“I want you, my juicy little beauty. All of you. I want you for mine, heart and mind, body and soul.”
By now he was standing alongside her. Stroking the feathers across her still erect nipples provoked her to wild, helpless laughter and maddening arousal again; then he leaned in and covered her wide open mouth with a deep, wet, possessive kiss.
Tulip felt her arousal and ticklishness both take off into the sky, but the strangest thing was, with the kiss from this handsome and powerful man thrown in, now she was starting to like how it felt. She was actually enjoying her helplessness, her ticklishness, her frantic arousal, her eager anticipation that soon Martin would do something to relieve that last problem!
He would, but not as soon as Tulip hoped; you see, Martin had discovered that he had a fetish for tickling. He really enjoyed tickling a beautiful woman like Tulip. Her defenselessness, her helplessness, her loss of control turned him on more than anything else ever had.
Martin put down the feathers and started to tease Tulip’s breasts with his hands. Tulip laughed wildly, but happily. Feeling his hands on her breasts as he tickled them felt so damn good! Especially when he kept leaning his head down to nibble her nipples, which now were so hard they were starting to throb.
Each time Martin stifled Tulip’s frantic laughter by kissing her mouth, she experienced a huge pleasure rush. The very small part of her mind that was doing anything but feel and enjoy marveled; in mere seconds, Martin had turned the most unbearable torture into the most irresistible, enticing pleasure she had ever felt.
Martin could feel the change in Tulip’s movements, hear the change in her laughter. The change was from; “Leave me alone, I can’t stand anymore!” to “Come get me lover, I can’t get enough!”
It would be Martin’s pleasure and joy to oblige. Now he started to tickle Tulip’s sleek ribcage. That felt so good to Martin. He loved the sensation of her womanly flesh softly sliding and rolling between his fingers and her rib bones. He loved the sweet sound of her laughter.
Martin shook himself back to alertness; he had lost himself in the wonderful sensations of tormenting and teasing this delightfully ticklish, exquisitely sexy woman. Martin did not want to wear Tulip out before getting to his favorite parts.
Martin had noticed that Tulip’s legs seemed even more ticklish than her sides, and more so as one moved down closer to her feet. Now Martin tickled her thighs. Tulip laughed even harder, and bucked her hips enticingly. She wanted Martin to take her right now, but she had to admit that she was really enjoying the tickling he was giving her.
As long as the others were watching, Martin had avoided touching Tulip’s tender inner thighs; now he concentrated his caresses there. The effect on the helpless Tulip was devastating. Every gentle stroke of those big, powerful hands sent a vast wave of pleasure, arousal, lust and ticklishness flooding through Tulip’s entire being.
Tulip’s loud, wild laughter had taken on a happy tone. Those fingertips gliding over and gently kneading her sensitive inner thighs were carrying her away on a cloud of pleasure while making her laugh uncontrollably. This was so crazy!
Then Martin started to tickle Tulip’s legs. “Oh!” Tulip thought; “Oh, no! The backs of my knees are too ticklish! I can’t take this! No! But it feels so good! Yeeeeeheeeheeeheee!”
Even her thoughts were now being invaded by ticklish laughter! Those fingertips wickedly grazing her calves tickled soooo much. It grew more unbearable, second by second, and yet she did not really want it to stop. Not really.
Martin was standing between Tulip’s raised and spread legs now, and all of a sudden his hands left her legs. When Tulip’s eyes refocused, he was reaching to pick up the feathers he had let fall before.
Tulip was puzzled, as she gasped for control of her breathing. What? Why? OH!
By this time her nipples and labia were as fully engorged as was physically possible, practically sitting up and begging for further attention. Which they now got.
Martin was wickedly teasing her labia with both feathers. Tulip was just uncontrollably chortling and laughing and howling. Her luscious hips were enticingly rolling and thrusting and bucking in a manner that Martin found lasciviously delightful. God, how he wanted this woman! And now, he would have her!
At first, Tulip was disappointed when the tickling stopped. When her eyes refocused to where Martin had stepped back, she saw him unbutton his shorts. As he dropped them and stepped out of them, her disappointment vanished. Just like the rest of him, Martin’s erection was well within normal for length, but very, very thick. The thought of that in her excited Tulip immensely.
Unthinkingly demonstrating his enormous strength, Martin grasped the pedestal with both hands, lifted it about an inch and moved it towards himself. When he put it (and her) back down, Tulip’s now deeply bent knees almost touched her shoulders. Her heels were fractions of an inch from touching the backs of her thighs.
Martin stepped forward to enter Tulip, finding her hot, wet and eagerly ready. She felt him slide all the way in, sending a sweep of sweet stimulation from her clit and her spot. Tulip was only dimly aware that all ten of his fingers were now poised on the heels of her feet.
When those fingers made contact, Tulip was electrified. As ticklish as she was everywhere, the bottoms of her feet were by far Tulip’s most ticklish places.
When the pads of Martin’s fingertips, carefully keeping the nails out of contact, began making soft pinching motions from the edges of both heels in towards the centers, Tulip laughed instantly, louder and harder and wilder than ever before. The incredible, irresistibly sweet ticklish torture made Tulip’s hips roll uncontrollably, rubbing her trigger points so perfectly that it took less than a minute for Tulip to cum.
The light, surface only pinching motions were transferred from Tulip’s heels to the balls of her feet. This made her laugh even harder, and squirm even more erotically, and then she was hit by the hormones released when she came, which increased her ticklishness to almost twice it’s previous level.
Martin felt Tulip’s lush body climax a second time, then moved those same, tickly, pinching motions to the flats of her soles. This tickled Tulip even worse, and it felt even better to both of them.
Merrily, happily laughing, Tulip felt tortured beyond her ability to endure and yet pleasured so wonderfully! She wanted the awful tickling to stop right this second, and yet at the same time she wanted the pleasure to go on forever. She came again. Then he was suddenly tickling her toes!
Tulip’s toes wiggled frantically. Her legs and feet strained to escape. Her entire body seemed to contribute to making her laughter as loud and as wild as possible. Having a man deep inside of her while he was tickling her toes sent Tulip into a kind of tickle tortured heaven. She came, and she came, and she came again.
Then those unbearably wonderful fingertips moved from her toes to her even more ticklishly sensitive arches, and Tulip’s entire sensorium simply exploded with pleasure and joy. She was in pure, ticklish ecstasy, absolutely howling with laughter and having the longest and most intense orgasms ever, one after the other.
Martin was reveling in poor, helpless Tulip’s defenseless responsiveness. One final touch now, as Martin leaned forward and covered her mouth with his kiss. That added measure of helplessness made Tulip feel as if she had suddenly doubled her ticklishness again. It turned her series of explosive climaxes into a single, impossibly sustained orgasmic eruption, amplified by the fact that the stopping of her laughter by Martin’s kiss seemed to create a feedback loop sending her higher and higher into the stratosphere of pleasure.
Then Tulip felt Martin’s climax. It flooded her insides. She felt herself floating away on great tidal bore of sheer physical pleasure combined with the most wonderful torturous ticklishness ever!
Both of their orgasms finally peaked and began to subside, and Martin began to ease off on the tickling of Tulip’s delectably tender feet. After a few minutes, Tulip began softly mewling in mild protest.
Martin had continued the tickling, now very lightly indeed, on the tops of Tulip’s feet and toes, just because he enjoyed the soft sound of her helpless giggling and the look of innocent, tormented pleasure on her lovely face. Now he stopped, and he gently kissed her as he unbound her.
Lifting her sturdy body with no apparent effort, Martin carried Tulip to the pallet behind a screen where he often slept. Lying beside her, cradling her in his arms like a baby, he whispered to her how his word that she had recanted her heresy would save her from burning at the stake. It would even allow her to keep her own property and gain a small share of that which would be confiscated from the duke. As long as she gave herself to him, to be bound and tickled and loved, he would protect her.
Tulip smiled; “To be bound, and tickled, and loved, like you just did?”
“Yes. Like I just did.”
“MMmmmmm! That, I can live with. Yes!”
As always, any comments and illustrations are welcome.
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LOL 
