REPOST: Bad Day For A White Wedding

This is a repost for Gaimanite. There may be a chapter missing, I don't know, and I don't know who wrote it. Enjoy.


A Bad Day For A White Wedding

Susan sat in the chair as her best friend Shelly applied the make-up. She could feel the bristles as her friend patiently applied the blush.
"Stop squirming Susan," Shelly said in frustration. "This is hard enough as it is to get this just right with your pale complexion and blonde hair!"
"How can you blame me for being excited," Shelly said. "This is just the most important day in my life!"
"Oh come now," Betty said coming down the steep wooden stairs, 'Today's just your wedding day and your 18th birthday. Doesn't this kind of thing happen every day!"
"Ha ha ha," Susan said mockingly.
"Sorry," Shelly said, stopping for a moment to switch from blush to mascara, "It's just so cramped and stuffy down here, it makes me nervous. Like being buried alive."
"What do you expect? This used to be an old bomb shelter. We're probably 20 feet underground. It's the only place this old church has for a bride to change out of her loving grooms eyes."
Betty walked over to Susan's wedding dress, glittering in the dim light. "This is so lovely," she gently fingered the sleeve. "Tom will love you in this, but I imagine he'd like you a whole lot better in what you've got on now." She referred to the sleeveless slip she wore.
"Yah!" Shelly grinned wickedly. "You can practically see through it! And the way it clings to your body..." Susan had great curves, and the slip accented everyone.
"Oh he'll see me in it!" Susan's eyes were closed as Shelly applied the mascara, "But he'll see it after I have that ring firmly on my finger."
"Oh, you are so lucky!" Betty squeeled. "I'd give anything to be getting married today!" At 15, Betty was young enough to be swept up in the fairy-tale atmosphere of Susan's wedding.
"Don't you think your a little young Susan," Shelly asked for the hundredth time.
"You know I can't wait Shelly!" Susan said. "I've got to get away from my mother! This way I'll be out of her house and away from all of her money! She'll have no hold over me. I'd have done it last year, but I was still a minor and she wouldn't let me!"
"But...don't you love Tom?" Shelly asked nervously.
There was a long pause. "Just finish my make-up Shelly," Susan finaly said changing the subject. "I've still got to get my dress on!"
Shelly nodded. With her eyes closed, Susan couldn't see Shelly's face, but if she had, she would have seen the look of someone who had finally made a tough decision.
"Betty," Shelly said, "Please go out to my car and get the tan bag I left in my car."
"Sure thing," Betty bounced up the stairs, leaving the to girls alone.
"You know," Shelly said, finishing the mascara, "I think your getting married for all the wrong reasons.
Susan opened her eyes. "We've been through this Shelly. If I don't get away from my mother now, she'll marry me off to some son of a rich friend of hers. It's my life! I won't let her control it!"
"What about Tom? He's marrying you because your beautiful, but eventually he'll start thinking with the large head and realize you don't love him! What about him? Is it fair to ruin Tom's life because you can't stand up to your Mother?"
They heard the door at the top of the stairs creak open, and steps coming down the stairs. By the sound of the steps, it was more than one person. Susan got a worried look on her face. "Is that you Betty?!" she called out. "Don't bring anyone down! I'm still in my slip!"
"I've seen you in a lot less Susie," a voice replied. Appearing at the bottom of the stairs was Susan's mother.
"Mother!" Susan yelled. "What are you doing here! Don't you know I don't want you here!"
"Now, now," her Mother said in a disapproving voice. "You wouldn't want your mother or your sisters to miss wedding, now would you."
"You didn't bring Janice and Missy, did you!" Susan shouted as the two came down the stairs behind their mother. "I'd rather have the devil himself at my wedding instear of those two." Missy was two years older than Susan and a head taller. Janice was a year younger than Susan, a little shorter, but broader in the shoulders.
"We came," Susan's mother began as if Susan hadn't said a word, "To try and talk you about this ridiculous wedding. After all, your a Vanderbilt, a woman of breeding, money and class. The very thought of you marrying such a ...commoner is just unthinkable. and at 18! Imagine the scandle."
"I'm marrying Tom, and there is nothing you can do about it. Right Shelly!...Right..."
Shelly didn't reply. Finally she said "What your doing will ruin yours and Tom's life. I can't let you do that!"
Susan looked shocked at her freinds behavior. "Fine! The hell with you, Shelly! Your out of the wedding! The hell with all of you! I'm getting married! I'll just make Betty my bridesmaid! Now, all of you, get out!"
Janice and Missy started creeping closer to Susan, as did her mother. "That's not going to happen, Susie," her mother said in a calm voice. "We are going to persuade you. One way or the other..."
The look on Susan's face changed from one of outrage to one of fear. She started backing away from the slowly charging family members. "No...no, you can't...you can't. HELP!!" she cried. Than the three of them were on her.
Susan's sisters and mother quickly overpowered her. Susan was forced onto a old bed which was in the corner of thewhile the daughters sat on Susan's arms and legs, Shelly and susan's mother tied her spread-eagle.
Susan started screaming for help. "Knock it off Susie," her mother said. "There's twenty feet of reinforced concrete over us. No one up there will hear you." Mrs. Vanderbilt looked over Susan's helpless body. " Lucky for us the church keeps a bed down here"
"They use this room as a temporary shelter sometimes," Shelly said, "Speaking of up there, I had better go. I'll tell Betty some story and I'll make sure no one interrupts your ...work. Just remember our agreement, Mrs. Vanderbilt."
"Of course, dear," Mrs. Vanderbilt said in a voice dripping with honey. "Thank you for all your help."
"I didn't do it for you, I did it to stop my friend from making the biggest mistake in her life." With that, Shelly was gone.
Susan had stopped screaming. A look near panic was on her face. "Mother, please...please don't do this to me..." she said.
"I've got to convice you dear, not to go threw with this silly marriage of yours. " Susan's mother came over to the bed. "And ever since you were a little girl, there was only one way to convince you of anything."
Susan remembered the convincing. It had started when she was three or four years old. She'd thrown a temper tantrum about her bedtime, and had gotten merilessly tickled. Her mother had pinned Susan on the ground under her thighs, taken both of her small wrists in one hand, and tickle her armpits and ribs until Susan couldn't breathe. She'd quickly given in.
Susan had always given in to her mother, usually without a fight. If she did start arguing, an almost casual wiggle of her mother's fingers had silenced her. The few times Susan had tried to rebeled had all ended badly.
As Susan had gotten older, her mother had started enlisting Janice and later Missy's help. Each was about as strong as her sister (Missy, the older, a little more) and together they had no trouble torturing her. When she'd been 13, she'd desperatly wanted to go on her first date. Janice and Missy had sat on her while her mother had held both of Susan's ankles in the crook of her arm, and scribbled her long fingernails over Susan's bare feet until Susan promised to call the boy up and pretend to be sick.
The worst time had been when Susan had been 15. She'd wanted to have a slumber party, and to her surprise her mother, after saying no at first, had given in. Then, during the party she'd been attacked by her sisters (her mother had forced her to invite them). Her sister's had held her down and invited her friends to tickle her. And, of course, they had.
Her Sisters had held Susan in different positions while her friends had attacked her feet, ribs, knees and all of her vulnerable areas. The tickling went on all night, no matter how much Susan begged. They made games of it, promising Susan they'd let her go if she could go so long without laughing, or seeing who could make her laugh the most. Susan was tickled, with short breaks, until after midnight.
After that, she had never disobeyed her mother again. But she'd planned for the day she could break away. That day was supposed to be today, but here she was tied and waiting to be tickled again.
Mrs. Vanderbilt sat on the edge of the bed. She was still attractive, only 40 years old with 3 teen-age daughters, and didn't even look that old. She also had a way of carrying herself, one that radiated class. She never let you forget she was quite wealthy, and old money at that.
"I'm sorry, Susan," she said with her aristocratic accent, "I just can't let you embarress your family like this. Just promise me you'll come home with us right now and forget about this Tim person, and we can forget all this unpleasantness."
Susan felt almost naked, covered only by the thin slip that only went down to the top of her thighs. The memory of every tickle attack was flooding threw her, causing chills to run down her spine. Still, she said "Go to Hell, mother!!" and spit in her direction.
"Obviously, I've come just in time," her mother said. "I've got to teach you how to me a lady again." Mrs. Vanderbilt attacked Susan's ribs. She started running her fingers up and down her sides, poking between the ribs, squeezing them, kneeding them.
The slip did cover susan's ribs, but it was to thin to bock much of the sensation. If it did anything, it cut down on the friction, and let Mrs. Vanderbilt glide her fingers more easily over Susan's ribs.
Susan scruntched up her face and bit her lip as she felt the sensations shoot threw her body, trying not to laugh. For once, she wanted to be stronger than the tickling.
It was no use. She was too ticklish, and her mother knew every bad spot on her body. Soon a steady stream of giggles was pouring from her mouth.
"He he he no mothhhheheheh motherrrrrrrrr heh ehe heh he he he I wonnnnnnn he he he won't do he he he that."
Mrs. Vanderbilt started tickling harder and faster, playing her ribs like a piano. She knew every note her daughters ribs could give, and she hit them all.
Susan was focusing all her will to block the tickling. She kept her laughter low, though it took all of the strength. Finally, her mother stopped tickling
"So, that's how it's going to be, is it?" Her mother asked. "Fine, Susie, your just making it harder on your self. Janice, you may begin."
Susan saw her older sister Janice close in on her legs. She took one last gulp of air before she felt both of Janices hands attack her knees. The pinchers fastened right above them, on those magic spots, and started squeezing.
As soon as Susan started laughing, her mother went back to work on her ribs. The combined tickling came close to overwhelming Susan. She fought, laughing harder than before, but not totally losing control.
"He eh heheh he he he heh heh heh heh heheh heh no ono no no no he he he nooooooo!! he he he he !!!! mothhhhehehehhehehehrrrrrrrrr heh heh heheh eh heh Stooooooppp he heh heh h he he he he plehehehh pleeehehehhheh ssssssssssssss he he no no no mooorrrrreeee!!!!!!!"
"Awww, does this tickle poor little Susie," her mother mocked her "Little Susie know how to make it stop, yes she does!" her mother was playing with her know, lightly tracing each rib, digging in hard for a second, then tickling lightly.
Susan's face was red, tears were starting to run down her cheeks. still, her eyes were strong and showed no weakness.
"NEeeveeeerrrr he he heeh heh heh nevvvvvvveeeeerrrrr he he heheh giivveee he heehe innn heh he hehheheh he heheh to youheeheh ehehe eheheheh!!!"
The tickling stopped again, as they let Susan catch her breathe. Mrs. Vanderbilt was nervous. No matter what Shelly promised, she had no idea how long they were going to have with Susan. She was the bride, afterall, and no excuse Shelly could give would keep people from checking up on her for long. And Susan was fighting more than usual. Usually, she could get Susie begging by just working over her ribs and knees. They'd have to move on to stage two.
"Tell me, Susie," Mrs Vanderbilt said, "Are you pitties still so ticklish?" With that, see thrust both hands into Susan's underarms.
"Susan's eyes flashed wide with fear, then closed, as her mother started flicking her long nails across the hairless, tender skin of her armpits.
"HEHE HE HE HE HEEHEH NOOOOOOOO HEHEH EH HEEHE EHEHE EH MMMMMOOOOOOTTHHHHHEERRRR HEHHEH HEHEH HEH HEHEH EH HE STOOOOPPPPP HEHEH HEH HE HE HEHEH EHHH PLEAAASSSSSEEEE NOOOOO NOOO HEH HEH HEHEH HEH HEH HEHEHHEH."
Mrs Vanderbilt barely touched the sensative skin, using the most gentle touch possible. She knew any poking or proding under Susan's arms would just bruise the skin and block the tickling. It was like touching the surface of a pond so softly so didn't cause ripples. It had taken her a couple of years to really prefect the touch she was using now on Susan, but it was worth it.
"Goochie goochie goo," she started to tease her daughter, "Gooochie goo, whose mommy's ticklish baby!! Whooooooseee mommy's ticklish BABY!!! Whoooo!!!"
The laughter was flooding from Susan's mouth now. Her self-control was being shattered. Hr underarms were so hyperticklish, she just couldn't bare it.
"HE HEH EHH EHH HE HEHH EHHE HEH HEHE HEHEH HEH H HEH HE HE HEH HE HEHEH HEH MMMOOOOOMMMMMMMMMYYYYY HHE HEH HE HEH
HEHE HE H HEH HEH HEHH HEH HEH HEHEHEHEH NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
STOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPP HEH HEH HEH HEHHHHHHEHEHE."
At nod from her mother, Janice began tickling again as well. This time, her target wasn't her sisters knees, but higher. In one motion, Janice pushed the bottom of Susan's slip, and attacked her waist, right above her panties. She just plunged her fingers in and started wiggling.
After a while, Janice moved her hands down to Susan's upper thighs, torturing her sister by squeezing the tender flesh there, then moving back up to her waist.
Susan was in tickle hell. She was whipping her head from side to side, her blonde hair flying in every direction. Sweat was starting to gather on her body. A hysterical note started appearing in her laughter, and Susan's eye's no longer showed resistance. Just fear.
All the while, Mrs Vanderbilt kept working under the arms. She used her years of experience to work the soft center, and the round edges. Susan had obviously spent much time preparing her underarms for this day (Her wedding dress was sleeveless), and all that work was coming back to haunt her now.
Words stopped coming out of Susan's mouth, just laughter. "HA HAH AHAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HA HA HA OOOOOO AHA HAH AHA HHHAH AHH AHH AH HAHH AHHAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAH HAH HAH HAH HAH AHHAHAH AHAHA AAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHHHHHAHHAHHHAHAHAHAH"
Finally, they stopped. Susan kept giggling afterwards, gasping for breath like she had been drowning, otherwise lying still like she was dead.
"Well," said mrs Vanderbilt after a while. "What's it going to be, darling. Are you going to do what Mommy says, or should I punish you some more."
Susan started shaking her head. "No, no, no, no, no" she kept repeating in an exhausted voice. She sounded like an 8 year old. But, stubornly, she resisted.
Mrs Vanderbilt looked at the clock. The wedding should have started 10 minutes ago. Soon, they'd be down to check on the bride. It was time for the coup de grace.
"Go for the feet," she told Janice. It was all she had to say.
Janice started running her fingernails over Susan's smooth soles. They had been pedicured for the big day, and were almost as smooth as the underarms. Susan had no energy to resist left. She began cackling as soon as the nails touched her arches. her voice sounded horse now. Soon it would give out. But the tickling continued.
Janice focused on her big sister's arches. She knew the toes were more ticklish, but her mother had told her not to start on those yet. The arches, though, were a close second. Susan's laughter started to grow again. Not quite to the fiendish, hysterical pitch it had been before, but that was do more to Susan's exhaustion than anything else.
"Do you know why i think you are getting married, little Susie," her mother asked. "I think you are just some little @#%$," She accented this with a brief tickle on Susan's neck, which did heighten her laughter for a second, "You want to be...pleasured, well, we can do that, can't we Missy?"
Missy moved forward for the first time. She passed Janice, still tickling Susan's soles, and moved to her waist. "I bet," Susan's older sister joked, "That somebody's all wet thinking about their honeymoon!" She dipped a finger under Susan's panties, then pulled it out. "Yep, mom, she's sopping wet!"
"Well," Mrs Vanderbilt said, "Why don't you give your sister what she wants!"
"NOOOO!!!!! Don't touch my HA HAH HAH HAH HAH HAHAHH AHA AHA AHA AHAAHAH AHAH AHAHA AAHA AHAAHAH A AHAHAH AHAH HAHA HAHAHHA HAH AHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Janice went for the toes, tickling between them and underneath them. The increase in Susan's laughter cut off her protest. She absoultly couldn't handle her toes being tickled. Mrs Vanderbilt started flicking her fingers over Susan's neck and the tops of her breasts.
Susan felt her mind sinking again, being buried by the tickling. It was then she felt her older sisters finger penetrate her.
Missy had discovered early in life she had bi-sexual tendencies. At the age of 20, she had experimented (on her self and others) enough to know her way around a woman's body. She fingered Susan's clitoris expertly. She hadn't been lying. Her sister was extremely wet down there, and she had no problem sliding her finger around.
Conflicting looks started appearing on Susan's face. Looks of pleasure mixing with the hysteria. Moans started mixing in with the laughter. The tickling just had Susan's body to excited. The tickling also diverted so much of her attention, Susan couldn't even try to block the feelings of pleasure shooting up her body.
Her moans and laughter became evenly mixed. Despite her every effort, Susan's hips started bucking.
Susan's nervous system was in a state of overload. Too much tickling, too much pleasure. She laughted, bucked, moaned, squeeled, gasped. Finally, under her sister's and mother's skillful hands, Susan had a major orgasm, rolled her eyes back in her head and passed out. Unconscious, exhausted, with a smile on her face.
Mrs Vanderbilt reacted immediatly. Missy, go bring the car around. Park it right by the back door. Janice, untie your sister and throw your coat around her. In a minute, will get her out of here. Hopefully, we'll be in the car with her and gone before anyone knows whats happening.
The daughters moved immediatly. They too, had been under their mom's tickling fingers, and would do anything to avoid that fate again.
"We'll get her home," Mrs Vanderbilt said. "Then, we'll truly teach her a lesson."


END

"A Bad Day for a White Wedding"
Part Two
"School Days, School Days, Dear Old Golden Rule Days"

Susan woke up disorientated. Where was she? It took her a second before the recognized the room - her old bed room!
Susan shot out of bed. Yesterday came flooding back to her. She remembered her mother and sisters showing up at her wedding, her friends Sally's betrayal, and the tickling. The awful tickling!
Susan looked around at the room, decorated for a six year old, with stuffed animals on the bed and cartoon figures painted on the walls. How often had she pleaded with her mother to redecorate it, to make it look more like a teen-agers room. Her mother, as usual, hadn't listened.
Susan had hoped never to see the room again. She had ran away six months ago, when she had still been 17. She'd spent the time hiding out, in friends basements, their poorhouses. Susan had known her mother had the police looking for her, and they would have just dragged her home.
Yesterday had been her 18th birthday, her independence day! Her mother had spoiled it all. Now Susan was back where she started from.
Realizing she was neared beneath the covers, hopped out of bed and checked the closets, expecting to find some of the clothes she had left behind. There was nothing! Susan checked every inch of the bedroom. Not a single thread!
Furious, Susan burst out of the room, determined to find her mother. She past one of the upstairs maids dusting a statue, and barely saw the butler across the hall. Susan had known all of the servants in the house since childhood and usually didn't notice them anymore. If the servants noticed Susan's naked stampede after her six month absence, they didn't say anything.
Susan finally made it to the kitchen. Susan's mother and her two sisters, Janice and Missy, sat around the table eating breakfast.
"Mother!" Susan screamed as she came into the room, "Mother! I am an adult now! I am 18! You can't do this to me! It's kidnapping! I want my clothes now, or I'll sue you! I'll have you arrested! Do you here me mother!"
"Calm down dear," her mother said pleasantly taking a sip of juice, "Unless you can find a lawyer in the living room or a police officer in the parlor, I don't think anyone here is going to be arrested or anything nasty like that. Why don't you sit down and have some breakfast. I'll have the cook bring you some eggs. School is going to start in a few minutes."
"What are you talking about?" Susan asked, frustrated, "What school? You just don't get it, do you mother? I am an adult, and this adult is going to walk out the front door of this place now, naked or not!"
Susan preceded to do just that, storming out of the kitchen in the direction of the entranceway.
"Oh dear," Mrs. Vanderbilt said, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. She then moved over to the intercom system on the wall. "Maurice, have the gardeners pick Susie up on the front lawn. Bring her to the hall and set her up just like we planned."
"Well, Ladies,' she said turning to her daughters, "It looks like class is in session."

***************
Susan was sitting at an old school desk, right out of high school. Her legs were straight out infront of her, her feet resting on a long platform, looking exactly like when she used to rest her feet on the desk infront of her in school. The only difference being her ankles were being held motionless by padded manacles. Also, she rarely had sat with her legs spread so wide apart.
Susan sat their, feeling like a fool. Why would she have thought her mother would just let her walk out of the mansion and to the police? When the gardeners had pounced on her only 20 feet from the door, she had fought like a wild cat. Their had just been too many of them, and they'd easily carried her back inside and into the Great Hall and locked her into this thing. Only afterwards, after seeing some of the grins on the gardeners faces had she remembered how naked she was and how much of a thrill it must have been for them.
Susan had tried for a while to rip her feet free of the manacles, or lift the platform they were resting on off the ground. Not a chance. Even the desk much have bolted down, because she couldn't move that either. Even with her arms free, Susan felt very helpless.
That had been almost half an hour ago. Now Susan had nothing else to do but ponder her surroundings and wonder what her mother had in mind. She had only recognized the Great Hall because of the high arched ceiling. When she had left, the Hall had been a museum, filled with pictures of long dead relatives, and artifacts from the legendary Vanderbilt family history. Now, it looked like a school. Their were posters and chalkboards on the wall. A teachers desk was in one corner, and two more students desks, one on each side of her, were on the floor.
Finally, Susan's mother and sisters entered the hall from the rear. The sisters each took one of the student desks, while her mother stood infront of the chalkboard, a long steel pointer in her hand.
Susan felt very vulnerable, watching her mother pick up a piece of chalk and start writing. Susan's feet were sticking out about a foot infront of the desk. She had felt her mothers fingernails on her feet far too often and didn't want to here.
"Now, class," Mother started in a firm voice. "I am Mrs. Vanderbilt, your teacher. Everyone please get out a piece of paper and a pens so we can begin."
"Mother," Susan asked, "What is going...AHHH!!!" Susan's sentence broke off suddenly when her mother swiped the long, steel pointer across one of Susan's soles. The tip ran from Susan's heel to right beneath her toes, leaving a trail of tickling behind it.
"Ms Susan," her mother said, "We raise are hands and wait until we are called upon to speak. Do you understand?"
Susan nodded and raised her hand. She was greeted by another swipe of the pointer, this time the tip running across her armpit. The tickling sensation caused her to cry out again, and slam her arm down.
"No questions? Good! Now get out paper and pens"
Wary of upsetting her mother anymore, Susan opened the desk, hoping to find paper and pens there. She half expected they wouldn't be there, and her mother would use their absence as another excuse to tickle her. But they were.
"Now, class," Her mother continued, "What is the most important of the 10 commandments? Susan, what do you think?"
Susan's mind went blank. What answer did her mother want? The wrong answer would get her tickled for sure. "Thou shalt...shalt not...commit adultery?" It was all she could think of. Her mother had accused Susan of being a @#%$ yesterday, only wanting to get married to have sex. Maybe that was the answer she wanted.
"No!" Mother said, swiping the pointer over Susan's sole again, forcing her to giggle. "The answer is `Honor thy Mother and Father' of course." She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote it in big letters on the board. "Since neither of you knew that, I want each of you to write it one hundred times. I'll give you 30 minutes. Anyone not done in that time will be punished."
Susan lowered her head of a minute. It was humiliating being treated like this, but with her naked soles so helpless and so close to her mother, it would be foolish to argue. She picked up her pen and started. She didn't stop writing or even raise her head when her mother walked out of the hall.
"Nice answer, dipshit," Janice said on her right.
"Yeah," Missy echoed on her left, "Now we have to write!"
"Leave me alone, you two," Susan said without stopping writing, "You did enough to me yesterday! I'm not even talking to either of you!"
The mention of yesterday caused Missy and Janice to exchange amused glances.
"You know, " Janice said with a smile, "I don't have any paper."
"Me either," Missy said, "Whatever are we going to write on?"
"I don't care!" Susan snapped, "I only have enough paper for me, and I'm not getting punished by mother! If you to get punished, it will only serve you right!"
Janice's smile got bigger, "Oh, I think i see something I can write on!'
"Me too!" Missy exclaimed. Both girls got out of their desks and knelt right before Susan's outstretched legs.
The movement caught Susan's eye. She looked up to find her sisters right by her two helpless feet.
"No!" she exclaimed, "You wouldn't! You...You couldn't!"
"WE WILL!!" Both girls yelled. They than brought their pens up to Susan's bare soles and began scribbling.
The sensation was immediate and devastating. The ticklish sensations shot through Susan's legs like electricity. It was overwhelming, and Susan began to screaming with laughter almost at once.
"HA HA HA HA NOOOO HA HA HA DOOOONNN'TT HA HA HA HA PLEEEAAASSSEEEE SSTTOOPPP HA HA HA HA HA!!!!! DOOON'T IIIITTT TIIIICKKLLEEESS HA HA HA HA HA HAGOOOOOODDD!!! I HA HA HA HA CAAAANNN'TTT STTAAAANNNDDD IIITTTTT!!!!!"
Susan's own pen fell from limp fingers. The horrible tickling blocked all other sensations from her mind. Susan could feel each stroke of the pen. She could feel Janices long swooping letters, smoothly writing over the balls of her left foot. She could feel the short, choppy strokes of Missy on her right foot, as she printed each letter with a frim hand.
Susan could move her arms, but in no way could she stop what was being done to her feet. That, if anything, was even more frustrating than having them tied. Susan buried her head into one arm, flat on the desk. Susan's other hand just kept pounding into the desk, over and over again.
"HA HA HA HA HA HA NOOOOOO NONO NO I CAANNN'TT HA HA HA HA HA STOOOOPPP I I DOOOO ANNYYYTHIING HA HA HA HA JUUUSSTT HA HA HA HA HA HA STOOOOPPPPPPP."
But the sisters didn't stop. They just kept on writing. "You know, Susie dear," Janice said,as if oblivious to Susan's hysterical laughter, "If you don't keep your feet still, I might just have to erase my work and start all over again. I wouldn't want to show Mrs. Vanderbilt a sloppy paper, now would I?"
"Stop it Janice," Missy said, "I think Susie's feet make great writing parchment! We may finally have found something you're good at!"
"You know, Missy," Janice said, swooping her pen over Susan's sole, "I'm afraid I might have run out of room!"
"Me too," Missy said. "I got it! I bet there is lots of extra room between her toes!"
Both sisters immediately used their free hands to force Susan's toes wide apart, and started working the pen tips between them.
"NOOOOOO HEHEHEHEEH HEH EH EHE EHE EHEHEH EHEHHE GOOOOODDD !!!!!! HE EHE EHE EH EHE EHE EHEHEHEH YEEEHEHE EHHEH EHH OOOHHHH HE EH EHEH EHEH HH EHE HEH HEH HEHEH HHEH HHE HE NOOOOOT TOEEEHEHE HEHE TOEEEESSSSS!!!!!"
Susan felt like she was going mad. She just couldn't handle it anymore. Her lungs were starting to hurt she was laughing to loud. The pens on her bare soles were absolutely the most ticklish thing she'd ever felt. The pens between her toes was even worse
It was even more of a shock when Susan felt one of the pens scribbling on her upper thigh. The tears welling up in her eyes had long ago blinded Susan, and she doubted she had the strength to lift her head off the desk, but the swooping loops told her the pen belonged to Janice.
With Missy still working the pen between Susan's toes, the tickling grew even worse. Susan's thighs were very sensitive, but they hadn't often been tickled. The pen made them feel as if they were on fire.
Then both Missy and Janice moved their free hands. Missy, while still writing on Susan's sole, started lightly scratching her nails under Susan's knee. Janice started tickling Susan's other knee.
That proved to be too much. In a rush, with no warning, Susan's bladder burst. The tickling stopped, and Susan collapsed, lying on top of the desk like a dead thing, gasping for breathe.
"Time is up!" Susan heard her mother say from the doorway. "Who has their sentences written."
"We do!" Janice and Missy said proudly, pointing to the exhausted Susan's feet.
"Excellent girls. Each of you get an `A'. Susan was so tired, she barely twitched as her mother took out a red marker and put a big A on each sole.
"Now, what about you Susan?" Her mother came forward and picked up Susan's piece of paper which had fallen on the ground. "I see this is almost blank! And wrinkled and tossed on the ground like garbage. And did someone wet themselves?"
"Susie did!" both sisters answered in unison.
"I see," Mrs. Vanderbilt said. "Well, I guess Susan has shown how little respect she has for school. I think it's time for Susan's...detention..."

NEXT
PART 3, "The Detention!"

A Bad Day for a White Wedding
Part Three
"Painting by the Numbers"

Susan had no good memories of her mothers study. It was the place she was always brought to for punishment. Sometimes she was tied to the desk, others just pinned to the floor. The position didn't matter. The tickling did.
Susan remembered a time when she was 13 years old, and had broken one of her mother's china dishes. She'd been called into the study then, too.
"Susie," mother had said, sitting in her big leather chair, "Sit next to mommy."
Susie had obediently sat down on the footstool right next to her mother's chair. She remembered the dread, waiting for the inevitable.
"Take off your shoes and socks, little Susie, and put your feet on Mommy's lap." She had commanded.
There was only one action that could follow such a command. Susie had cringed, "No, Mommy, please not that. I'm...I'm sorry!" Susie remembered looking at her mother. She was so young, especially when compared to her friends mothers. She'd barely been 30 when Susan had been 13.
"Now, Susie, or you'll be punished for disobeying as well as breaking the dish." Her voice offered no compromise or mercy.
Susan had been punished for disobedience before. Nodding, she slowly removed her black shinny shoes and pink socks. Then she placed her bare, vulnerable feet in her mother's lap.
Mother had put one hand over Susan's ankles, holding them firmly in place. At that point, she could still easily overpower her daughter. It would be a couple of years yet before she'd have to recruit Susan's sisters into helping.
Mother had immediately begun sliding her fingers up and down Susan's soles. Susan immediately began squealing. Mother knew every ticklish inch of those feet, and no amount of willpower would help Susan resist her.
Susan remembered the 20 minutes of tickling that followed, laughing until her face was red. She remembered her mothers fingers tickling between her toes and up her arches. It was one tickle attack amoungst the many of her childhood, but it was one that Susan would always remember.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle little Susie," her mother had chanted, "stroking the soft flesh , "You were a bad girl for breaking that dish, but such a good girl for obeying Mommy. You must always obey Mommy, always obey."
Now Susan was back in that study, not a 13 year old girl, but an 18 year old woman, again waiting for her mother. This time, however, she was going to be punished for not obeying her mother. It was going to be bad.
Unlike that time when she was 13, Susan was totally naked. She was kneeling on the desk with her arms straight over her head. The ropes that tied her ankles to the wooden beams in the ceiling her too strong for her to break, too tight for her to slip out of. Their was enough tension in the ropes that Susan couldn't even move her torso. She could move her waist an inch or two. That was all.
As for her feet, Susan could feel them behind her, dangling over the edge of the desk. Some kind of strap was around her ankles, keeping them motionless, Another strap, about as thick as a rubberband, was around both of her big toes, keeping her feet firmly in place.
She'd look like a naked `L', except for the fact that her legs were spread slightly, keeping a few inches of air between her thighs. Susan had a feeling why that was, and that scared her more than anything else.
Susan could only hang their, more vulnerable and helpless than she'd ever been before in her life, and wait. Wait for mother to come with her sisters, and torture her again.
When the door to the study finally did open, her mother was alone. That was something at least. Only two hands to tickle her, not six.
"Good morning, Susan," mother said, "I trust that you are...comfortable?"
The odd thing was, physically at least, Susan was comfortable. The ropes might hold her almost totally motionless, but they didn't cut into her skin or pull her limbs in any direction they didn't want to go.
"I suppose," mother continued, "that you know why you are here."
Susan looked at her mother. Again she was startled to see how you she looked, only 35. How could someone so young have become so hard? So willing to do whatever it took to get what she wanted?
"All I know mother, is that you've kidnapped me," Susan was proud of how calm and cold she kept her voice, "That's a felony. Your going to jail, mother for a long time."
Mother laughed. "You forget much, little Susie. You are on my 100 acre estate! In the middle of my 40 room mansion! In a soundproof room! Who is ever going to know you are here?"
It was all true. The only one who would know where she was was Shelly, her former best friend and maid-of-honor, who had betrayed her to her mother on her wedding day. Somehow she didn't think Shelly would be running to the cops anytime soon.
Besides, her mother was the heir to the Vanderbilt legacy. She practically owned the small town around her estate as well as the police and the judges. There would be no justice here.
"And Susan," her mother continued, "You wouldn't have your own mother thrown in prison, would you? I'm only trying to instruct you in a higher law!"
"And what law would that be?" Susan asked sarcastically.
"I would have thought that law would have been engraved in your memory by now...or at least your sole." She smiled at her deliberate pun. "Do you want to tell me what it is, or should I call your sisters in here to do the job...write this time?" Another pun.
When Susan had been tied up in the "classroom" just a few hours ago, her sisters had scribbled one phrase onto her bare soles over and over again, tickling her to the point of insanity. She knew she couldn't bare that again. "I ...don't remember!"
"Hmm, maybe I can remind you," Mother said. With that, she pulled out a paintbrush. "Do you know what I'm going to do with this?"
Susan only closed her eyes. Here it comes.
Susan felt the soft bristles of the brush gliding over her tender breasts. Susan's eyes flew opened at the first contact. A smile broke though the cold expression she had on her face.
Mother kept swooping the brush up and down, left and right, all over Susan's left breast. They were medium sized, and firm. Susan could feel each bristle as a point, gliding over her creamy white skin. The sensation was almost unbearable.
"He eheh ehehe ehe ehe eeheheheh ehehehhheeeeee mooottthheeerr heheh eheh Noooooo he eh eheh eheh eh eh heeeee eheh eheheh eheheh ehheehe ehe eheeehhhh!!!!"
"You always were so ticklish on these things, even before you started to develop." Mother commented," You always were such a tickly little girl. Laugh for mommy, come on now you tickly little girl, laugh for Mommy!"
"Heh eheheh eheheheeh eheheh stooooppppp hehe ehehe ehehe eheheheh hhh eeHEEEE ehe ehehe aaahhheee ehehe ehe ehehe ehe eh no no no no no hehehheheh mooooommmmyyy hehe ehe eh ehe ehe eeeheheh."
"Tell me what I want to hear, ticklish little girl, tell me! I can tickle these boobies of yours for days. Tell Mommy!"
With that, Mother began brushing around, but not over Susan's nipple. The tickling sensations for Susan skyrocketed.
"he ehe ehehe HE eh ERHEH hE EHE EHE EHAEHE EH EHE eh eh EH Eh Eh eh NOOO HE EH Eh EhEHE EHE Honnnn HE ehe ehe eh Ehe eh EHEH I I Cannttttt H Eheh EHE Eh EhE eh ehe EH EH EH Honnnnooooooorrrrrrr thhyyyyyy he ehe ehehe eheh mommmmmmmyyyyyy HE eh Eh eh eheheheh."
Mother stopped brushing. "Not quite right, but close enough. take a second to catch your breathe dear, them tell me again, perfectly this time.
Susan hung there, catching her breathe. It was amazing how quickly her mother could reduce her to being a screaming, laughing 8 year old again. She had tried to sound adult, confident, aloof, but a few strokes with that damn paintbrush on her tits, and she was crying out for her mommy to stop, begging like a little girl.
"Honor thy father and mother," Susan said, quoting the bible after she could breathe again.
"Honor thy father and mother," Mother repeated, "And do you think you were doing that by running away and marrying some man you knew I wouldn't approve of?"
"I am 18 and an adult!" Susan barked, "I can do whatever I please!" She was desperately trying to regain any dignity she'd lost from the tickling.
"No, you can't! You are not an adult because you have reached some arbitrary age. You are an adult when I say you are. And I think trying to marry some guy you don't love just to escape me proves you are a child."
Susan hung there, staring her mother in the eye. She wished she could argue that point and profess her love for Tom, but she couldn't. That would have been a lie, and her mother would have seen right through it. "Just what do you want me to do? Move back in here, getting tickled by my bitches of sisters and living at your whim!"
"No, Susan, I want you to get married." Mother whiped her brow, as if tickling her daughter was such hard work.
"Who?" Susan asked simply.
"Oh, you don't know him. He's the son of a business partner of mine. I need to shore up that alliance as it were, keep him on my side."
"What! Never! Marry a man I don't know! For business! How dare you!" Susan felt outraged, "And you think marrying Tom was so bad!"
"Susan," Mother said, "You are one in a long line of Vanderbilt women. You will do what is needed for the family, to keep the family strong. That includes marrying who the family needs you to marry."
"And if I don't?" Susan asked, trying to keep her voice strong, knowing very well what the consequences would be.
Mother only held up the paint brush, in a wordless warning.
Susan said the most difficult word she'd ever spoken. "No." Firmly, with no sign of the terror building in her.
"Very well, Susan. I guess your still a little girl after all."
Mother began running the paintbrush up and down the back of Susan's thigh, drawing giggles from her daughter.
Susan tried to buck her hips, shake her thighs, anything to escape that soft brush.
She giggled quietly, keeping her thought focused on not giving in.
"Hmm, fighting harder this time are we?" Mother asked. She began brushing the back of Susan's knee, working the brushes into that delicate area.
"Ahhhhh he he he no no no no I wooon't he he he moother he he he eh he he neeeverrrr he he he he ....... He HEE he eh ehe eh he he he eh he heh hhehehe heheh Noo!!!"
"Come on little girl, laugh harder, feel the ticking. God it tickles, doesn't it? Tickle tickle!"
"He he he he he he no no no no no nheee noeeeee he he he he eh noooooo!" Susan kept repeating "No", though her laughter, forcing herself not to give in to her mother. This time she had to win.
Mother stopped. She knew she was in for a battle this time. "I know where your ticklish," she began chanting, "I know where my little girl is ticklish!" She started dragging the brush up higher up Susan's leg, higher, towards her private area.
"He he he he he noooo!!!!! he he he he he mooothheerrrr HE ehe eh ehe pleeaassee heh eheh hehehe nooot theerreeee he ehe eh eheh eheh ehehe eh ee ehe ehh!!!!"
"Then give in, little Susie. I have the marriage license right here. Sign it and I won't tickle that ...dreadful area."
Susan shook her head. Mother had only tickled her THERE a few times, when she'd been really bad. Enough for Susan to know it was her very worse spot.
The brush continued its slow journey upward. It was on Susan's inner thigh, ticking with prickly bristles, going up and up and up. The tickling got worse with each inch as the brush got closer to its goal.
"He ehe ehe eh ehehehe ehe eheheh no no no he heh eheheheheh ahah eh ehe no he eheeeeeee aaahahahahah nooootttt thereeeee hehehehehe ehe ehaha ahe ha sahe aaaaahhaeeeeeeee caaaaaannnnnntttt heeehehehheheehheeheheheheh!!!!!!!"
"Then sign,"Mother said sweetly.
"NAaaaahahahhh ne ehe ehe ehe nahaha aha anaha ehehe neeeeevveeeeahah aha ah aaaaaaa aheheh ahahe eh eh ehehehehehehe neeevvveerrrrrr heh ehheheh ehehehehehh!!!
"So be it." Mother proclaimed. The brush it the spot. that spot everyone has, the spot most ticklish, the line where the thigh met the body, the crack just where Susan's carefully shaved pubic hair stopped. the spot Susan was most ticklish. One side of Susan's pie. The brush attacked it.
"HAH AHAHAH AHAHA HE AH AHA SHEHEHEHE EHEH NOOOO AAHA EHE EHA AHAHE EHE EHE EHEEHAHAAAHHAHAHAHAHAH CANNNTT HE EH EHA AH AHAHAHH HAHH HAHAH NOOOOOO A A A I I I HE HEHEH EH EHEH A HAH AHAHAHA AHA AH HEH EHEHEH EHEH HO HO HO HO HE HE"
Susan went ballistic. Her body bucked and turned and heaved and twisted every inch the ropes permitted it to. She started whipping her head from side to side. Susan's long, blonde hair was everywhere. The yellow formed a contrast to Susan's face which was now bright red.
"Sign it," Mother said simply.
"AAAAHHA AHA AH EH EHE AH AH AHAHAH AH EH EHE EHEHH EH CAANNNNTTT HE EHEEHH EHHAH AHAH AHAH AHHA AHA AH AHAAHH AHH AH ENOOOO EEEHEHEHE EHEHE EH HH CANNNNTTT MAAAKEEE HE EHE EH AHAH AHAH HAHA AH MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! NOOOOOO III WOOON'TTT HE EHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAH CAAAANNNNTTTT!!!!"
Susan's brain short-circuited. She didn't even remember what mother wanted her to do, what she wanted her to sign, just that she couldn't do it, that she had to resist Mother.
Mother just kept running that brush up and down the crack, occasionally gliding against the pubic hair. "Laugh for me, little girl, laugh for Mommy, come on little girl, laugh for your Mommy! Laugh!"
And laugh Susan did, harder and louder than she'd ever laughed before. She couldn't help it, the sounds just flooded out. She cried for her Mommy, laughed and screamed, but she didn't surrender. No matter how long the tickling continued, she just kept laughing, but would not give in.
"HAAHHAHAH EH AH OOOH EHE EH EHE MOOOOOMMMMMYYYY HE AHA AHA AHA AHA SHS STOOOPPPP HA AH EH AHAHAHAHA EH MOOM HA AHA AHE EHA HA AHEHAHAHAH MOOMMMYYYY HAHAHA AHA HA HA PLEEASASSSEEEE HEHEHAHAH AH NOOOOOOO!!!!! WOONNNTTT HEHAHEHAHEH SIGGNNNNNNHE EHEHEHEHEHEHH NEEEVVEERERRR."
Soon, Susan didn't have enough air left to make noise. But her mouth kept moving, her eyes still hysterical. The silent laughter was deafening. It was far longer than Susan had ever had this most vulnerable part tickled. Somehow, she held on.
At last, Mother stopped. Susan was seconds away from passing out, and unconscious daughters surrendered to nothing. Susan just hung their, every muscle in her body exhausted. her lungs ached as she gasped for air as violently as if she'd almost drown. Sweat poured down her body, and she glistened from the moisture.
"Take a few minutes, catch your breathe," Mother said patiently, "Then we will start again. Unless you want to sign, of course."
"Mother," Susan said, still breathing heavy, "Mother... h gasp...Mother, what gasp! difference does it make a hahau if I sign. Are you going to keep me locked in here until the wedding? Force me down the aisle with a feather? Is my future husband going to keep me chained in the backyard?"
"What is your point, Susie," Mother moved the brush closer to her daughter, obviously ready to begin again.
"The the point mother," Susan said trying to get the words out before the brush made contact again, "Is that eventually, married or not, I will run away again! I'll get free somehow, now or after the wedding! What will that do to your little business relationship?"
Mother lowered the brush. "Your right, darling. I never imagined you showing as much willpower as you just have. I never imagined you could have your nether regions tickled for so long and no surrender. No matter what happens here, you will vanish again one day, just to escape me. We are going to need some kind of hold on you"
Mother seemed to think for a second. Then she hit a buzzer on the desk, "Janice," she said to the intercom, "Have Isabelle come here please."
Mother looked at her daughter again, "I think Isabelle can make you ...an offer you can't refuse."
All Susan could do was hang their and wait. Wait for Isabelle.

A Bad Day for a White Wedding
Part Four
"On the Eve of Seduction"
or
"The Velvet Chain"

A breeze came from an open window, chilling Susan and causing her nipples to swell once more. Goosebumps were forming up and down her naked skin. She wished her mother would throw a sheet over her or something. What a ridiculous position to be in.
Susan's mother, sitting in a nearby chair, only smiled. "Shivering with anticipation, huh," she said with a smile, "Don't worry, Isabelle will be here soon."
"You know mother, some parents talk to their children when they're angry or disappointed. Some might yell or shout, or threaten to kick them out of the house, Only you tie them up in the den!"
"You were always such a difficult child. I've found that extraordinary methods were required. Besides, as you've said, your 18 now, no child but an adult! Consider this an adult method of arguing." Susan's mother smiled a wicked smile, "And I've always loved this form of bondage."
Susan had to admit it was effective. She was kneeling on the desk with her arms straight over her head. The ropes that tied her wrists to the wooden beams in the ceiling were too strong for her to break, too tight for her to slip out of. Their was enough tension in the ropes that Susan couldn't even move her torso. She could move her waist an inch or two. That was all.
As for her feet, Susan could feel them behind her, dangling over the edge of the desk. Some kind of strap was around her ankles, keeping them motionless, Another strap, about as thick as a rubberband, was around both of her big toes, keeping her feet firmly in place.
She'd look like a naked `L', except for the fact that her legs were spread slightly, keeping a few inches of air between her thighs. Susan had a feeling why that was, and that scared her more than anything else.
Finally, their was a knock at the door, and a woman entered. She was Latino, with long black hair and dark, sensual eyes. She wore a tight outfit, and when she walked, she seemed to slide across the room. Her every movement seemed to echo with sexuality.
She seemed vaguely familiar to Susan.
"I see you have a present for me, all wrapped and ready," she said in a sultry voice, "what exactly do you want Mrs. Vanderbilt?"
"I'm sure you remember my daughter Susan, Isabelle. It seems she thought she could run away and marry whomever she felt like. I need you to...encourage her to marry in the best interest of her family."
"Well now," Isabelle said smiling, "We can't have that now, can we." The woman stood infront of Susan and looked her over with a critical eye. "You've filled out nicely, Susan. You're quite a beauty now." She ran her fingers through Susan's long blonde hair. Susan tried to pull away, but her bonds held her firmly in place.
"Don't be scared," Isabelle whispered, "You remember me, don't you...Issy?"
Issy! A flood of memories rushed through Susan's head. Issy had been her older sister Janice's friend. Issy had often helped Janice in her favorite pasttime, tickling the hell out of Susan!
Susan remembered one time, when she'd been 13 or 14, she'd been lying on the floor on her belly, watching something on TV. With no warning, Janice jumped on her back and Issy on her legs. Susan had tried to wrestle her way free, but the girls were two years older than her, stronger and heavier. In no time, Janice had been straddling her waist and Isabelle straddling her legs down by her ankles.
"Get off me!" Susan had yelled, still trying to squirm her way free, or at least get on her back and in better fighting position.
"Sorry, squirt," Janice had said, "We have a bet to settle. I told Issy here how unbelievably ticklish your feet were and she didn't believe me. So we're going to find out."
"No!" Susan had yelled, "Not my feet!" They were unbelievably ticklish, as Janice knew well. She fought harder to get free, but still couldn't budge the older girls.
She felt hands slowly untieing the laces of her sneakers. Susan tried to wiggle her ankles, to keep those shoes on, but Issy pinched Susan's ankles between her knees with more strength than Susan would have thought possible, holding them fast.
"Oh, yes," Janice began whispering in Susan's ear, "Issy is dieing to run her long, hard fingernails down your soles. I told her how soft they are, how pink they are, and she can't wait."
The laces on one shoe were undone, and Issy, leaving that shoe on, started untieing the other. "And your toes," Janice said, "She wants to see your little piggies, to play with them, maybe even lick them..."
The other shoe was untied, and Issy slowly removed each shoe. Susan could feel the air on her stocking feet, the anticipation, waiting for the inevitable. then she felt the nails, running over her socks, and she squealed. Issy tickled for a few seconds, just long enough to get Susan really laughing before stopping.
"That was with your sockies on," Janice said, "Just wait until she takes them off..."
Susan felt her white cotton socks begin to slide slowly down her feet. She desperately tried to grab them with her toes, but could only grasp the cotton for a second before it slid out of her toes.
The socks were off, and time seemed to stand still for a second. the air felt cool on Susan's hot, sweaty soles. She waited, tensing her body, clenching her toes, knowing what was coming.. On her belly, Susan knew her soles were pointing straight up, totally vulnerable, open to be tickled anywhere.
Then the attack came. Those long, hard fingernails began gliding up and down her soles. Susan began laughing hard, practically squealing as those nails did their job. they crept like spiders, up and down from her heals to the balls of her feet. It was overwhelming.
"HE EHEHE EHEHE EHEHEEHE EHEHE EH EH EH EHE EHEHEH NOOOO HE EHEHE EHE OOHHHHH PLEEEEAASSEEEE HE EHEHE EHHE EHH ISSSYYYY HE EH EHEH HHEN EHE HEH HEHE NOOOOO !!!!!!!"
Susan's body began shaking between the legs of the older girls. In those days, as a spoiled little rich girl, her soles had been softer and more pampered than they were even now, and Issy's fingers were exploiting that softness. The torture was absolutely overwhelming.
Finally, the tickling stopped. "Well," Janice said, as Susan gasped for breath beneath her, "Aren't those babies soft and ticklish enough for you."
"Well," Issy said for the first time, "They defiantly are soft," She caressed a sole, drawing an immediate giggle from Susan. "But she might be faking the ticklishness. She is your sister, afterall."
"True," said Janice, "What if we force her to do something that she would never otherwise do, say...run through the grounds of the estate naked?"
"Excellent idea!" Issy proclaimed, and went back to tickling. This time, she went for Susan's toes, running her fingernails behind them, forcing her nails between them. The result was electric.
"HA HAHAH AHA AHAH AHAHA AH AOOHHGOOAAAHHDD AHA AHHH AHAHAH HEH AHA AHA AHHAHAH NOOOOO I I I CAANTTT HA AHAH AHAHAH HHAH HAHAHHA AHAH AHAH AH AHAH AHAH AHAHAHHH!!!!!"
And Issy kept tickling until an exhausted and delirious Susan had agreed. Despite her natural 13 year olds shyness about her body, she had gone naked through the grounds. She was seen by the gardeners, the entire household staff, the construction workers putting in a new fountain, and even a few of Janice's male friends from school who just happened to be their. It had been the most humiliating day of her life.
Until now. The adult Issy, Isabelle stood infront of a naked Susan once more. She cupped Susan's breast in her hand. "Yes, you defiantly aren't that bony girl anymore, are you."
"Mother," Susan begged, "Not her, anyone but her!"
"No, Susie, you're right," her mother said, "If you marry the man I want you to, one day you will disappear again. I need hold on you, a velvet chain so to speak. Isabelle is the only one who can do that. I'm going to leave you now. Issy, don't fail me." With that, mother was gone.
"Issy, please," Susan started begging immediately, "Don't listen to her! This is kidnapping! If you help her, you're an accessory! Get me down from here and I won't turn you in!"
"Turn me in," Isabelle asked playfully, drawing a finger down Susan's naked body from her chin to her bellybutton, "To who? We're in the middle of your mothers estate. You know very well she's the only authority here."
Susan giggled at Isabelle's touch despite herself. "Please..." she said in a little girl voice.
Issy grinned seductively, "Still ticklish, huh? Don't worry, I think you'll like this." She reached out and grabbed Susan's ribcage with both hands, and gave it a squeeze, making Susan squeal.
Isabelle played Susan's ribs like a piano, running her hands up and down, squeezing, poking. Sometimes she'd kneed them like a loaf of bread. Other times she'd wiggle her fingers between them.
Susan started giggling immediately. With her arms stretched out over her head, her ribs were perfectly exposed. "Ehe ehe ehehe eheh eheh e e stoooppp heh ehe e eheh ehehe ooohhh pleeaasseeee heheh e eee ehehe ehe ebeeeegggg hehe eheh ehehe ehe eh ehe eh eheh!!!"
"My, you've got a pretty laugh," Isabelle started digging her fingers into the more ticklish spots on Susan's ribcage, forcing her laughter to a higher pitch. Then, to Susan's complete surprise, she quickly licked one of Susan's erect nipples. A moan escaped Susan's mouth amidst the laughter and a startled look appeared on her face.
"Oh, you liked that," Isabelle grinned, still tickling Susan's ribs, "Let me do that again!" This time, she licked the other nipple, forcing another moan from Susan's lips.
Isabelle stopped tickling, letting Susan catch her breath. Susan could only stare at the exotic Latino. Tickling always turned her on to a point, a fact that always embarrassed her. Even the limited attention given to her nipples had sped the process up. Already, Susan could feel a flush coming to her face and a bit of wetness between her legs.
"See," Isabelle said, "I told you this could be fun." Then, Isabelle took off her own tight fitting clothing, and stood before Susan nude as well. Susan felt a chill go up her spine. The Latino had a sexuality about her that excited Susan even though she tried to deny it.
"Ready?" Isabelle attacked again, focusing this time on Susan's underarms. The skin there was soft and subtle, and with Susan's arms suspended over her head, pulled tight. Isabelle skated her fingers lightly through the hollows, forcing Susan into hysterics.
"HE EHEHE EHE EHEHE EHE NO NO NO NOOOOT HE EHEE EHE EHE
THEHE EHEHEHE EHEHRRREEEE HE HE EH EHEHEHEHEH OOOOOHHHH!!! She moaned again as Isabelle licked her nipple yet again. This time, Isabelle didn't stop. Every few seconds, she'd lick again, swirling her tounge over Susan's rock hard nipple, all the while swirling her fingers under Susan's arms.
"HEHE EHEHE EHE OOOH HE EHHEH EHE EH WHEEHHAAATT OOOH HEH EHEEHEE EOOOOOOOHHHHH HEHE EHEH EHEHE HHE EHE EHEHEH EHEHHE EHEHEH EHEHEHE EHE EEEEEHHHHEE EHEH EHEHEHE HHEHEHE!!! I HE EHEHE HEH HE HEHHEEEEE OOOOOOHHHH!!!!!!"
Susan felt caught in-between the tickling and the pleasure. It was as if her body couldn't decide which way to react. Somehow that made both the pleasure and the tickling more intense.
When Isabelle started sucking on one of Susan's breasts but tickling her underarms even harder, Susan thought she was going to lose her mind. Hysterical laughter and deep moans and groans were coming out of her mouth randomly. She became lost in the sensations, as if they were somehow building upon each other. The rest of the world vanished, and the only thing Susan was aware of were the fingers under her arms, and the mouth on her breasts.
Finally, it ended. All of the muscles in Susan's arms went limp, and she just hung there, gasping for breath. Isabelle came close, her body only inches from Susan's, and waited.
"Please..." Susan said after a long time.
"Please what?" Isabelle asked. "Stop tickling you? Keep pleasuring you? Stop both? What?"
Susan stared at her. At that moment, she didn't know. She was more excited, more turned on, than Tom or any of the other men she'd slept with had ever gotten her. It was hard to think, so hard...
"Do you want me?" Isabelle asked, drawing her finger dwon the inside of Susan's thigh.
Susan shook her head no. She had never been attracted to a woman before. But there was something about her! A sensuality that made Susan want to hold her to, to kiss her...
No! She wasn't, couldn't be! She shook her head again.
"Well then," Isabelle breathed seductivly, "Let's try this."
Then Susan felt a finger run between her legs. The pleasure shot through her. next, she felt those long fingernails, tickling her bottom, right where the tush meets the thigh, and laughter poured out her. The hard fingernail on the soft, tender tush was an extremely ticklish combination.
Isabelle alternated the sensations, the tickling, the pleasure, finally doing both at the same time. Susan thought she'd go insane. The tickling on her tush was the worst she'd ever felt, worse than even on her feet. The pleasure of Isabelle fingering her between her legs was the most intense. Susan thought her nervous system would short out.
Susan just hung there, screaming with pleasure, screaming with laughter, whipping her head wildly from side to side. Isabelle's body was now pressed close to hers. Susan could feel Isabelle's own tight breasts, smell her perfume.
Isabelle kept it up for what might have been hours, being careful not to allow Susan an orgasm, or tickle her to unconsciousness. Susan just kept screaming. Now, you couldn't identify it as laughter or moans. It had all merged into one sensation, one overpowering feeling.
"Do you want me," Isabelle whispered in her ear.
"YESSSSS!!!!!!!!!!" Susan screamed at the top of her lungs.
"To keep touching, to keep tickling?"
"ANYTHING!!!!!!!! JUST DON'T STOP!!!!!"
Finally, with more force than she'd ever imagined possible, Susan climaxed, over and over again. She blacked out.
When she awakened, Isabelle was still there, but Susan's mother had returned. Susan was out of her bonds and lieing down on a cot in the corner of the same room. Susan glanced at Isabelle, and a wave of emotion crashed over her. Love, passion, everything. Susan had never considered herself a lesbian before, but it didn't matter. She dind't care if Isabelle was a man or a woman. She wanted her.
"Do you want her?" Susan's mother asked simply.
"Yes," Susan said simply. She did and didn't care who knew it.
"Isabelle works for me," Mother said. "I'll lend her too you as an engagement present. she'll do anything you want her to. Anything. But if you break the engagement, or leave your future husband in any way, you lose her."
"But if I'm good?" Susan asked in a little girl voice.
"Then she'll be yours. For as long as you want."
"Can I tie her up on the table and tickle her like she tickled me?"
Isabelle asnswered that question. "Of course. I'm very ticklish." She drew out the word `very' in a seductive way.
Susan only nodded. She couldn't turn away Isabelle, she just couldn't. Even if it meant living her life the way her mother wanted her to nad marry whom she wanted. As long as shehad her Issy everything would be fine.
"Excellent!" Mother said. "Now, you need to go shower and get something to eat. You must be starving."
Susan was about to protest, when she realized Mother was right. She was starving. And she could feel the dried sweat clinging to her body.
"Go ahead," Isabelle said sweetly, "I'll be waiting for you."
Susan nodded, put on the robe that had been laid out for her and left the study.
For the first time, Mrs Vanderbilt didn't worry about her daughter trying to escape. The velvet chain was firmly in place.
"Don't worry, Edith," Isabelle said using Mrs Vanderbilt's first name, "I'll control her for you. She'll do whatever you want."
"Good," Mrs Vanderbilt said, "I have plans for that one."

The End of
"Bad Day for a White Wedding"

all good!