Hi, all...I guess this post requires some explanation. This is my first post, and it's not a complete story...it's part of a larger work I've been messing around with for a while, but I was hoping to get some feedback about how it's working so far. Basically, it's the story of a young medieval noblewoman who commits an indiscretion, and is sent away to an isolated abbey...but since she has noble blood, the people there devise an interesting way to discipline her. The whole backstory is too big to put in here, and a lot of it doesn't involve tickling, but how does this scene work? Even if you don't feel like making any comments, hope you enjoy it...if so, more will come as I write it.
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...“I am very disappointed with you, Kayra,” the Reverend Mother said coolly, staring at the girl from across her desk. Without waiting for a response, she turned to the deaconess standing beside her. “Anisa, would you please go and inform the Mistress of the Acolytes that we have a difficult young girl here who finds it necessary to laugh at our rules?”
The deaconess smiled thinly. “Gladly,” she said, and left.
“Report to the Mistress of Acolytes at once. And march. I hear you dawdled even a minute, and it’ll go twice as bad with you, young lady.”
Kayra’s nerves quaked with raw fear as she took those steps down the hallway. <i>They wouldn’t dare,</i> she kept telling herself…but up here, in these isolated mountains, who would know? She’d always been an obedient girl. Fear of retribution was new to her, and she didn’t like the way it felt.
She stopped, and briefly considered running all the way home, but her pride won out and she knocked, gritting her teeth to keep from quivering. “Enter,” came the soft reply.
The Mistress was a plump woman, plain-faced and surprisingly cheerful for the dire reputation she held. She was at her writing desk when Kayra entered, and looked up with a carefully expressionless face. “Well, my girl, I wasn’t expecting to see you here this soon,” she said levelly, and stood. Kayra winced when she did, expecting to see a willow switch in the woman’s hand. <i>They can’t…they wouldn’t! I am nobility!</i> But the Mistress’s hands were empty, and she rounded the table, clasping them before her. “Even so, I suppose we were warned about you. There are so many girls, obedient every day of their lives, who rebel completely against themselves for love of some country lout. Such dalliances are counterproductive, child. If you learn nothing else these next two years, then heed that.” She sighed a little regretfully and shook her head. “I do hope we will still be able to be friends…I hate punishing people so soon.”
<i>Then don’t,</i> Kayra silently pleaded.
“But then, you have to learn eventually. It is not a soft life you’ll be living here. It’s best you get that fixed into your mind as soon as possible. I suppose we’d better get this over with, shall we? Now…up onto the bench with you, girl.” She stepped aside and indicated a long, backless wooden seat behind her. It was a wide, sturdy structure, cushioned on top with a plain, dark fabric, raised somewhat higher off the ground than other benches. As innocuous as it looked, to Kayra it looked explicitly unpleasant. Uncertainly, she tiptoed over to it and gingerly sat down, clasping her hands to keep them from trembling. Her heels barely brushed the floor, it was so tall. “Stretch yourself out upon it, face-down, please,” the Mistress said gently.
Kayra’s heart stuttered. “But—but you aren’t supposed to…I mean…” she protested, stalling for time. The bench was looking more sinister every moment.
The woman favored her with a slightly indulgent smile. “My dear, we keep our promises here…we uphold the law, not break it. You will not be struck. Now, please lie down…I don’t want to have to add minutes for insubordination.”
<i>Minutes??</i>
Kayra felt herself wanting to blubber as she stretched out on the bench. It was big enough for her to fully stretch out her arms upon it as well as her legs, but she kept her arms pulled in against her chest. She pressed her cheek against the cool, worn fabric, staring at the wall, willing herself not to cry. When a knock came at the door a few moments later, she nearly jumped from her position, but a restraining hand on her back held her down. “We are ready,” the Mistress called quietly, and two pairs of footsteps shuffled into the room. “One of you take her hands, the other her ankles. Anisa…you come down here. Hold them tightly, please.”
“What?” Kayra tried to gasp, but then the gray-clad deaconess appeared beside her. Silently the girl grasped her by the wrists and pulled her arms out taut, straight in front of her. Kayra gasped at the force of it, and struggled, but the girl's scanty weight seemed all muscle.
“Arms up, Kayra.”
The first tears ran down her nose and spotted the fabric, but she obeyed, clenching her teeth to keep in a sob. She felt unseen hands grasp her ankles, and then her body was stretched out tight on the bench, toes hanging over the edge and fingers curled around the other side. She tried to wiggle her foot out of the other woman’s grasp, to no avail…she could twist her torso from side to side on the bench, but it made the scratchy fabric of her shift prickle her skin, and did her no good. <i>Gods…I’m helpless.</i>
A chair scraped up behind her, and she flinched as she felt a hand touch her slipper. She felt one shoe slipping off her foot, and then the other, although she crunched up her toes to keep them in place. The air was cool against her bare skin. She had a minute or so to consider the horrors of a hot poker or needle…but then…
“Two minutes should suffice for a small offense,” the Mistress said mildly as she sat down.
And then, quite suddenly, every muscle in Kayra’s left sole curled spasmodically in the wake of a fingernail, scraped straight down the center of it. Her entire body twitched, and she gave a shocked little squeak. The hands holding her bore down.
The scratch repeated again, this time on the other foot. Kayra’s bottom wiggled indecorously as she tried to kick away the restraining grasp, and another shameful whimper escaped her. “Satisfactory,” the Mistress mused quietly. Unseen fingers rubbed both soles into calmness, soothing the twitching nerves.
“The two minutes will begin now. May you take your penance like a true lady, Kayra Thornton,” the Mistress said…and began to tickle.
At first, the overwhelming shock of the situation was all Kayra could think of, and she jerked her body halfway off the bench in pure reflex. “You—!” she started to protest, mortified at what they were doing to her, a high-born duke’s daughter, these insolent, primitive clerics…and then, quite suddenly, the sensations caught up with her. The unbearable sensations. The feeling that those gentle, insistent fingertips were stirring every nerve into uneasy wakefulness and then plucking them like harpstrings…they flooded her mind, and her stately nobility fled cowering as a wave of shivers rose up her body. She cut herself off with a squeak, and her fingers tightened on the other end of the bench as she slammed both her eyes and mouth shut.
Some part of her mind tried to deny the absurdity of the situation, but she couldn’t escape either the hands holding her or the reality—the Mistress of Acolytes, a priestess of Idara, was tickling her right foot, running her fingertips lightly up and down the sole as if it were a small lapdog. The rhythm never varied, up and down, up and down…and it wouldn’t have been unbearable at all, if Kayra had just been able to move her foot. She jerked at the acolyte restraining her, wiggled the appendage back and forth, even tried to twist her hands free…but the women’s hands seemed as strong as iron, and as quick as chipmunks at keeping her pinned down. The gentle up and down motion ceased, and now Kayra felt a gentle scratching in the middle of her right sole, hardly enough to irritate the skin but terribly insistent. A little squeak escaped her clenched teeth, and then another, as she felt another fingernail begin in the same spot on her left. They remained there, softly wiggling, until Kayra had goosebumps all the way up her legs and onto her stomach, and the shivers were near to overwhelming her. Her toes curled inward, and her heart began to pound as the helplessness of her situation began to sink in. Before she could stop herself, another of those shameful yelps escaped her, and this time there were words in it “Stop it,” she whimpered, and she was horrified to hear her voice quiver a little. Another tormenting finger joined the ones already there on each foot, and this time, a tiny, stifled giggle escaped through her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit the insides of her cheeks.
“Stop? Why, my child, it’s only been twenty seconds,” the Mistress said implacably, and to Kayra’s dismay, she felt another seething wave of shudders go through her as the woman set to work in earnest…now she was wiggling all of her fingers in the center of the soles, and it was nearly unbearable. The poor girl gasped in a breath, tried to hold it—and then the fingers moved to the base of her toes, all at once.
“Sto—aah!” Kayra shrieked, and almost pitched herself sideways. “Leave mee-heehee…stop it! Stop it!” And then, as the tickling overwhelmed her, she erupted with shrill giggles, unable to force out a word....
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Well, there it is. Sorry it's kind of a cliffhanger. Hope to hear from someone, and by the way, nice to meet all of you! This forum is a great place.
~Calliope
[email protected]
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...“I am very disappointed with you, Kayra,” the Reverend Mother said coolly, staring at the girl from across her desk. Without waiting for a response, she turned to the deaconess standing beside her. “Anisa, would you please go and inform the Mistress of the Acolytes that we have a difficult young girl here who finds it necessary to laugh at our rules?”
The deaconess smiled thinly. “Gladly,” she said, and left.
“Report to the Mistress of Acolytes at once. And march. I hear you dawdled even a minute, and it’ll go twice as bad with you, young lady.”
Kayra’s nerves quaked with raw fear as she took those steps down the hallway. <i>They wouldn’t dare,</i> she kept telling herself…but up here, in these isolated mountains, who would know? She’d always been an obedient girl. Fear of retribution was new to her, and she didn’t like the way it felt.
She stopped, and briefly considered running all the way home, but her pride won out and she knocked, gritting her teeth to keep from quivering. “Enter,” came the soft reply.
The Mistress was a plump woman, plain-faced and surprisingly cheerful for the dire reputation she held. She was at her writing desk when Kayra entered, and looked up with a carefully expressionless face. “Well, my girl, I wasn’t expecting to see you here this soon,” she said levelly, and stood. Kayra winced when she did, expecting to see a willow switch in the woman’s hand. <i>They can’t…they wouldn’t! I am nobility!</i> But the Mistress’s hands were empty, and she rounded the table, clasping them before her. “Even so, I suppose we were warned about you. There are so many girls, obedient every day of their lives, who rebel completely against themselves for love of some country lout. Such dalliances are counterproductive, child. If you learn nothing else these next two years, then heed that.” She sighed a little regretfully and shook her head. “I do hope we will still be able to be friends…I hate punishing people so soon.”
<i>Then don’t,</i> Kayra silently pleaded.
“But then, you have to learn eventually. It is not a soft life you’ll be living here. It’s best you get that fixed into your mind as soon as possible. I suppose we’d better get this over with, shall we? Now…up onto the bench with you, girl.” She stepped aside and indicated a long, backless wooden seat behind her. It was a wide, sturdy structure, cushioned on top with a plain, dark fabric, raised somewhat higher off the ground than other benches. As innocuous as it looked, to Kayra it looked explicitly unpleasant. Uncertainly, she tiptoed over to it and gingerly sat down, clasping her hands to keep them from trembling. Her heels barely brushed the floor, it was so tall. “Stretch yourself out upon it, face-down, please,” the Mistress said gently.
Kayra’s heart stuttered. “But—but you aren’t supposed to…I mean…” she protested, stalling for time. The bench was looking more sinister every moment.
The woman favored her with a slightly indulgent smile. “My dear, we keep our promises here…we uphold the law, not break it. You will not be struck. Now, please lie down…I don’t want to have to add minutes for insubordination.”
<i>Minutes??</i>
Kayra felt herself wanting to blubber as she stretched out on the bench. It was big enough for her to fully stretch out her arms upon it as well as her legs, but she kept her arms pulled in against her chest. She pressed her cheek against the cool, worn fabric, staring at the wall, willing herself not to cry. When a knock came at the door a few moments later, she nearly jumped from her position, but a restraining hand on her back held her down. “We are ready,” the Mistress called quietly, and two pairs of footsteps shuffled into the room. “One of you take her hands, the other her ankles. Anisa…you come down here. Hold them tightly, please.”
“What?” Kayra tried to gasp, but then the gray-clad deaconess appeared beside her. Silently the girl grasped her by the wrists and pulled her arms out taut, straight in front of her. Kayra gasped at the force of it, and struggled, but the girl's scanty weight seemed all muscle.
“Arms up, Kayra.”
The first tears ran down her nose and spotted the fabric, but she obeyed, clenching her teeth to keep in a sob. She felt unseen hands grasp her ankles, and then her body was stretched out tight on the bench, toes hanging over the edge and fingers curled around the other side. She tried to wiggle her foot out of the other woman’s grasp, to no avail…she could twist her torso from side to side on the bench, but it made the scratchy fabric of her shift prickle her skin, and did her no good. <i>Gods…I’m helpless.</i>
A chair scraped up behind her, and she flinched as she felt a hand touch her slipper. She felt one shoe slipping off her foot, and then the other, although she crunched up her toes to keep them in place. The air was cool against her bare skin. She had a minute or so to consider the horrors of a hot poker or needle…but then…
“Two minutes should suffice for a small offense,” the Mistress said mildly as she sat down.
And then, quite suddenly, every muscle in Kayra’s left sole curled spasmodically in the wake of a fingernail, scraped straight down the center of it. Her entire body twitched, and she gave a shocked little squeak. The hands holding her bore down.
The scratch repeated again, this time on the other foot. Kayra’s bottom wiggled indecorously as she tried to kick away the restraining grasp, and another shameful whimper escaped her. “Satisfactory,” the Mistress mused quietly. Unseen fingers rubbed both soles into calmness, soothing the twitching nerves.
“The two minutes will begin now. May you take your penance like a true lady, Kayra Thornton,” the Mistress said…and began to tickle.
At first, the overwhelming shock of the situation was all Kayra could think of, and she jerked her body halfway off the bench in pure reflex. “You—!” she started to protest, mortified at what they were doing to her, a high-born duke’s daughter, these insolent, primitive clerics…and then, quite suddenly, the sensations caught up with her. The unbearable sensations. The feeling that those gentle, insistent fingertips were stirring every nerve into uneasy wakefulness and then plucking them like harpstrings…they flooded her mind, and her stately nobility fled cowering as a wave of shivers rose up her body. She cut herself off with a squeak, and her fingers tightened on the other end of the bench as she slammed both her eyes and mouth shut.
Some part of her mind tried to deny the absurdity of the situation, but she couldn’t escape either the hands holding her or the reality—the Mistress of Acolytes, a priestess of Idara, was tickling her right foot, running her fingertips lightly up and down the sole as if it were a small lapdog. The rhythm never varied, up and down, up and down…and it wouldn’t have been unbearable at all, if Kayra had just been able to move her foot. She jerked at the acolyte restraining her, wiggled the appendage back and forth, even tried to twist her hands free…but the women’s hands seemed as strong as iron, and as quick as chipmunks at keeping her pinned down. The gentle up and down motion ceased, and now Kayra felt a gentle scratching in the middle of her right sole, hardly enough to irritate the skin but terribly insistent. A little squeak escaped her clenched teeth, and then another, as she felt another fingernail begin in the same spot on her left. They remained there, softly wiggling, until Kayra had goosebumps all the way up her legs and onto her stomach, and the shivers were near to overwhelming her. Her toes curled inward, and her heart began to pound as the helplessness of her situation began to sink in. Before she could stop herself, another of those shameful yelps escaped her, and this time there were words in it “Stop it,” she whimpered, and she was horrified to hear her voice quiver a little. Another tormenting finger joined the ones already there on each foot, and this time, a tiny, stifled giggle escaped through her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit the insides of her cheeks.
“Stop? Why, my child, it’s only been twenty seconds,” the Mistress said implacably, and to Kayra’s dismay, she felt another seething wave of shudders go through her as the woman set to work in earnest…now she was wiggling all of her fingers in the center of the soles, and it was nearly unbearable. The poor girl gasped in a breath, tried to hold it—and then the fingers moved to the base of her toes, all at once.
“Sto—aah!” Kayra shrieked, and almost pitched herself sideways. “Leave mee-heehee…stop it! Stop it!” And then, as the tickling overwhelmed her, she erupted with shrill giggles, unable to force out a word....
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Well, there it is. Sorry it's kind of a cliffhanger. Hope to hear from someone, and by the way, nice to meet all of you! This forum is a great place.
~Calliope
[email protected]
