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Flirting with disaster

Marauder

3rd Level Red Feather
Joined
Apr 17, 2001
Messages
1,662
Points
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Flirting with disaster

by Marauder

Just when the party was really starting to swing, a new entry brought the intricate social mechanics of networking to a grinding halt. The host, Beverly Hills movie mogul Carl Merman, as well as all other men attending were drawn from their respective partners to the new arrival like magnets. And it was clearly visible why they were so easily distracted - the woman who had just come into the huge garden area of the Merman estate was, quite simply, a knockout. Appearing to be 22 years old, six feet tall, a mane of lush blonde hair, slim and athletic, yet equipped with bombastic 38D breasts, swaying as she approached the party guests... and her clothing did little to hide her luxurious body ! A white silk blouse tied halter style, blue jeans so tight she couldn't fit a credit card in her pocket, and a pair of high heeled crystal clear lucite slides, further displaying her femininity and boosting the already breathtaking length of her legs to incredible proportions. They also displayed her long and narrow, size 12 feet with their 'French' pedicure and the silver toe rings on the second and third toe of each foot. The tall blonde immediately began prancing around the premises, chatting up to the men, flirting shamelessly... Nobody remembered who had invited her, but the men were too captivated by her looks to consider this. Of course, her behavior earned her the instant hatred of the wives, who could do little to draw their husbands attention back to themselves...
But their anger was a mere candle compared to the blaze of fury roaring inside the hostess of the party - Sylvia Merman, a forty eight year old former bombshell who married the boss, a bleached blonde who still retained a little of her tough street edge from her hometown, Brooklyn. 5 feet 6 inches and thirty pounds overweight but still attractive in a 'hard' way, wearing a loud print blouse, loose fit jeans and white tennis shoes. She was certain that she hadn't invited this slutty display of overflowing female characteristics. Slowly approaching the young woman, she overheard the conversation that was held between her and a fiftyish producer : 'Why, yes, I'm a model and actress ! But I'm still looking for somebody to recognize my true talents...' - the woman bent down a little at this, allowing the producer a generous view of her incredible cleavage, making him smile with lust-stricken debility - '...so I can finally hit the big screen, you know ?' Sylvia grimaced at this. Model ? Centerfold, most likely. Actress ? Well... softcore porn, judging from the twin monuments to corrective surgery sprouting from her body. Enough silicone to build a few mainframe computers for the NASA, the older woman thought to herself with disgust at the sluts cheap moves. She interrupted the conversation by clearing her throat. 'Excuse me, but I don't think we've met', she managed to say without too much aggression evident in her voice. The young 'actress' regarded her with a tilt of the head. 'I'm Daria Widner, and YOU are disturbing us,' she said, pointing to the man, who was still staring at the massive mounds in front of his eyes. Sylvia frowned. 'I don't think you're on the guest list. This is a private party, and I would ask you to leave. Now.' Daria laughed at this. 'I guess you just can't stand the thought of competition, can you ?' She looked around contemptuously, eyeing the women surrounding them, who were glaring back at her with cold hatred. 'No wonder ! I'm TWICE the woman that any of you old hags are ! I wonder why your hubbies make do with you dried-out mummies when they could have any woman they want ?' The situation almost got ugly at this point, as several fuming women started in on the insulting bimbo, but Sylvia held them back with a cryptic smile. 'Would all the men please go into the house while us girls settle our differences ?' The men, clearly disappointed, tried to argue, but a few well-placed icy glares from their wives succeeded in ushering them out of the way and into the house. Sylvia looked at Daria once more, no more cryptic, but with evil intentions. 'And now, bitch, we will have a talk.'
Daria strutted over close to the older woman and made a promising attempt of looming threateningly over her. 'You want to start something with me ? Okay, I'm game.' The other wives looked at the two women, concerned. Did Sylvia really think she could best a woman half her age and six inches taller ? Their concerns were soon smashed, as was Daria, who, anticipating some screaming or hair pulling, was caught squarely in the stomach by Sylvias right hook. Staggering back, she managed to bring up her own hands in an attempt to defend herself, but Sylvia broke through her defenses again and again with ease, plowing into Daria like a berserk Diesel train. After catching a few more punches, Darias blouse gave way to the pressure of her huge, heaving breasts and popped open, only to be grabbed and torn off by a triumphant Sylvia. Daria was not wearing a bra, and her huge knockers bobbed madly in their newfound freedom, attracting hoots and disdainful cheers from the surrounding women. Sylvia threw another punch and hit one of Darias breasts head on. 'Watch out ! You're a-gonna spray us all with silicone !' whooped one of the on looking wives with glee. Daria tried to defend her jangling tits with one hand while throwing weak, ineffective punches with her right, stumbling around clumsily on her heels, while Sylvia toyed with her mercilessly, coming up from different, unexpected angles, moving fast and precise in her tennis shoes, and all the while mocking her blonde opponent : 'What's that, can't defend yourself for a pennies worth, can ya ? How do you even stay upright with those two inflated monsters wobbling around ? C'mon, you gotta at least try !' And with this, she drove Daria back with a flurry of punches and hooks, finally readying her coup de grace - 'Now, Bimbo, I'm going to knock you out !' - and she caught the young woman squarely in the jaw with a mighty uppercut, lifting her a few inches and then knocking her back by almost a whole yard. Daria landed on her butt, legs splayed apart in front of her, making a profoundly stupid face while she listened to the angels sing. One of the wives pointed and laughed. 'Look, Sylvia, you knocked the slut clean out of her shoes !' And true enough, Darias lucite slides were still standing at the losers last position, though one had fallen over from the momentum. Daria still sat on the ground, dazed, flexing her huge, bare feet...
Sylvia grinned, suddenly thinking of an even better way to utterly humiliate the knocked out knockout. 'Let's have a few laughs !' she exclaimed and explained to her friends what she wanted to do. Soon, Daria found herself tied to a lawn chair, hands bound tightly behind her back, strapped securely into the furniture by lengths of strong rope from a nearby shed. A second chair was put in front of her, her ankles were tied together and put through the slats of it. Her big toes were tied together and to the top slat with twine, leading back to her ankles, and pulling her large, naked soles taut as drums. As she slowly regained her senses, she saw what her current situation was, and reeled, fearful anticipation slowly gripping her... But that was nothing to the blind panic that overcame her when she saw Sylvia standing in front of her trapped feet, grinning with malicious intent, slowly twirling in her fingers...
'A f-f-feather? Oh ... Oh dear ... y-you've got a f-f-feather! Er, listen, ladies, I-I've learned my lesson here and ... well, I'd just like to apologize and ... and leave, ok? You see, the thing is ... well, this is a little embarrassing but, well, my feet... well, they're rather (ulp) sensitive, you see. The fact is, well, they're ... they're ticklish - my feet are highly ticklish! It's just the silliest thing, I know, but I hope you can understand why y-y-you can't, uhm ... you really ... oh dear, please don't tickle my feet!!!' The women all grinned at this outbreak, foreboding unpleasant events the near future had in store for the helpless gatecrasher. Sylvia squatted in front of the immobilized soles of her captive, still playing with the stiff goose feather menacingly. 'But dear, tickling your feet is EXACTLY what I have in mind. As a matter of fact, I think I'll tickle them with this plume until you're a babbling, hysterical heap, and then I intend to use the stiff end to further reduce you to a begging, sweat soaked mess, darling. And THEN I'm going to think of other ways to make you regret you've ever been born... or that I'd never been born, but I doubt you're smart enough to tell the difference, ain't you ?' Daria swallowed, hard. 'Hey listen, you can't do this, okay ? I... I mean, it's... c-c-cruel, I really can't taAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!!' The feather had made its initial contact with the big, soft sole of Darias left foot and began tracing a torturous path upwards from the heel towards the helplessly writhing toes in a steady line, sending impulses of pure agony through the bound blondes body. Daria threw her head back and screamed with forced mirth, sucking in deep, desperate breaths to let out great guffaws of helpless hilarity, causing her big boobs to bob up and down in regular rhythms. Sylvia and the other women fell in with evil cackles, cruelly taunting the struggling, wriggling blonde to add to her deep humiliation at the strokes of a mere feather on her tormented soles... 'Look at that, Bimbo's TICKLISH !!!' 'Can you believe that such a big woman is reduced to a wobbling heap of laughter just by tickling ?' 'My, oh my, how BIG those feet are ! I bet you've got trouble finding shoes, bitch !' 'Yeah, and you can't even have them custom made, because your feet are WAY too sensitive to endure the taking of your foot's measurements, right ?' Daria only laughed, redoubling her efforts to escape her tight bonds when Sylvia began to trace the minute wrinkles of her soles with the feather's tickling tip, and to insert her instrument of tickle torture between the toes of the twitching feet, sawing it back and forth cruelly. 'AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA NOOOOOO !!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO !!! NOT THE FEEEEEEEHEHEEHEHEHET !!! DON'T TEEEEEHEHEHEHEKLE MEEEHEHEHEHEHE !!! I CAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA !!! CAAAHAHAHANT TAKE IT ! AAAHAHAHAHAHA ! IT TEEEEHEHEHEKLES !!!' The women came closer, wanting a better view of the action. Two leaned close to Darias ears, taunting her cruelly - 'Awwwww, poor Daria is ticklish on her huge soles ! Look at those toes wriggle !' 'Yeah, and speaking of wriggling, look at these tits wiggle ! My, how they bob ! How embarrassing to be sitting here, shaking your tits for a bunch of old hags while your feet are tickled, right, bimbo ?' 'Tickle tickle tickle ! Oh, how much that's gotta tickle you ! How sensitive these gigantic, graceless big feet are !' Daria was beyond frantic already, but Sylvia had much more in store for her. Not wanting to wait any longer, the hostess of this party continued tickling the left foot with the feather while beginning to torture the right sole with short staccato strokes of her long fingernails. 'Kootchy kootchy koo, Bitch ! Tickle tickle ! My, how soft those soles are ! Are you sure it was a smart move to come here, huh ? Look at what it's gotten you ! No movie contract, but a whole afternoon of sitting here, laughing your airhead off ! But at least you're the center of attention, aren't you ? Everyone's looking at those huge feet of yours and these jiggling silicone breasts ! And we're all listening to your pitiful pleads for mercy now. C'mon, beg for us, slut !' And though she didn't want to, Daria couldn't help herself but to oblige. The tortures of her helpless feet were robbing her of her sanity, forcing her to further humiliate herself before these vengeful, cackling witches that were taunting her and tickling her... 'PLEEEEHEHEHHEZE !!! STOOOOHOHOHOHOHOP IT OH NOHOHOHOHO NOT THE TOOOOHOHOHOHOES ! NOT THE TOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOES !!! OH GOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOD NOOOOHOHOHOHOH !!! STOP IIHIHIHIHIHIHIT !!! STOP LAAAUGHING AT MEEEHEHEHEEHE !!! PLEEEHEHEEHEZE DONT OH GOD NO STOPSTOP OH NOOOOHOHOHOHOHOOO !!!' Sylvia had now been joined by another woman, the wife of the producer Daria had hit on, and now both feet were treated to a very thorough stroking and tickling as both women used their long nails on the quivering, wrinkling soles. Sylvia looked at their howling victim cheerfully. 'Tell you something, if you can tell us exactly how you feel right now, we'll let you go, got it ? You may start !' and with this, she began to really put her gusto into the tickle torture, stroking the feathers tip back and forth over the quivering toe stems while scribbling her sharp nails all over the arch of the long, narrow sole that was her target. Daria went completely nuts at this renewed increase of her plight - 'AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!! NOT THAAHAHAHAAHAT NOT THAAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAT !!! OKAY I FEEEHEHEHEHEEL I FEEEHEHEEHEHEL I CAAAAHAHAHANT TALK IF YOU YOUHHHOHOHOHOHOU TEEEEHEHEHEEKLE MEEEHEHEEH STOOOOHOHOHP IT YOU BEEEEEHEHEHEEHETCHES !!! AAAHAHAHAHAHA !!!' Sylvia grinned and sped up the torture even more, causing Daria to scream with tortured laughter, robbing her of any chance of comprehensive begging. 'Who's calling us bitches, huh ? If I had feet this big and this insanely sensitive, I would be careful whom to insult, see ? You're really asking for it...' She slowed the tickling a little, allowing Daria to renew her begging. 'NOOOHOHOHO !!! IM SOOHOHOHOREEEEHEEHEHEHE !!! I FEEEHEHEL ASHAAHAAHAHAMED !!! ASHAAAHAHAHAAHAAAHAHAHAAMED !!!' 'Why's that ? Elaborate,' a grinning wife said from the sidelines, where a line started to build as the women decided who was next to torture the insulting bimbo. 'BECAUSE I CAAAHAHAHANT (gasp) CAAHAHAHANT STOOOHOHOHP !!! STOOOHOHOHOP !!! AAAHAHAHAHAA !!! I CAAHAHAAHNT STOOOHOHOHOHOHP LAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAFFING !!!' 'Yes, you are really laughing your head off, aren't you ? You're laughing with very little dignity. Now tell us why you're ashamed of your tits.' 'AAAHAHAHA NOOOHOHOHO PLEEEHEHEHEZE !!! IM ASHAAAHAHAHAMED OF MY TEEEHEHEHEEHTS ! TEEHEHEHETS !!! BECAUSE THEY WREEEEEHEHEHEGLE SOOOHOHOHO MUAAHAHAAHACH !!!' 'Bobbing up and down, yes, up and down like jelly... and we still want to hear about those gargantuan feet of yours that are twitching down there. You know which feet we mean ? Those very ticklish, big, bare feet that are currently being worked over with feathers and torturous fingernails, those feet ? You know ?' Daria shook her head in desperation. '(gasp) AHAHAHAHAHAAAA !!! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA !!! IM ASHAAHAHAAMED OOOHOHOHOHOOOHAHAHAHAHA OF MEEEHEHEHEHE MEEHEHEE AAAHAHAHAHA MY FEEEHEHEHEEHET BECAAAHAHAHAHAHA OH GOD (gasp) NOOOHOHOHOHO PLEEEEHEHEHEHEZE ! BECAAHAHAAH BECAUSE THERY SOOHOHOHOHOHO AHAAHAHA NOOHOHOHO SOOOHOHOHO !!!' 'Yes ? Because they're so... WHAT ?' 'NOOOHOHOHOHO !!! THEYRE SO BEEEEHEEHEHEHEG !!!' 'Yes, they ARE big. And besides ?' 'PLEEEHEHEHEEZE !!! NOOOHOHOHO !!! WHAT DOOHOHOHO YOU WAHHHAHAHANAAAHAHA HEEEEHEHEEHRE ?!?' 'Why are you laughing when we do this ?' Sylvia stroked the soles with all five fingers of both hands now, up and down the spasmodically twitching, rapidly reddening soles now, grazing them with her nails, tickling like crazy. 'AAHAHAHAHA !!! HAHAHAHAHA !!! NOOHOHOHOHOH !!!' 'You're laughing because your big feet are... ? Are... ? Well ?' 'AAHAHAHAAH NOOHOHOHOH !!! BECAAHAHAHABECAUSE MY FEEHEHEHEET...' 'Your WHAT feet ? Start over from scratch, Bimbo !' 'AAHAHAAH OH GOOOHOHOHOHOHOD THIS IS TOOHOHOHORTURE !!! (gasp) IM ASHAAHAAHAHAMED BECAAAHAHAUSE MYHEHEEHEHEE BEEEHEHEHEG FEHEHEHEEHEET AAAHAHAHA !! AHAHAHA !!! AAAHAHARE SOOHOHOHHO TEEEEHEHEHEHEKLISH !!! OH GOOOHOHOHOD PLEEEHEHEZE !!!' Sylvia reluctantly traded places with another woman, immediately stepping to the end of the line... she was FAR from done with this slut... 'Now you forgot your tits. Why are you ashamed ? start over !' chided one of the women now squatting at the pair of struggling, helpless bare feet as they picked up from where the first two tormentors had left off... The women went on and on like this, tickling, taunting, laughing at the ridiculous picture the bound bimbo made there, laughing and begging, forced to repeat the account of her own humiliation through tortured gales of laughter over and over again... Each one took her turn for at least ten minutes, then getting back in line and waiting impatiently for her next shot at tickling the helpless, hypersensitive soles of their humiliated victim. They even brought a camera and took picture of each one of them at the helplessly laughing blondes feet, tickling away cruelly, and then shot a few more rolls of film simply capturing the state of disgrace Daria was in. 'C'mon, give us a huge smile for the camera !' they chimed, 'And flex those huge feet ! My, we're going to need a special lens for these, they're just too big to fit into the picture, aren't they ? What do you say, Bitch ?' But all Daria could reply was, 'NOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOO !!!'
When dusk finally came after many long, torture-filled hours, The women untied their victim, not without more taunts about her disheveled exterior - 'Not looking so smug anymore, huh, Bimbo ? All sweaty, too... and this hair ! What a mess you made of yourself ! Just look at you, bigfoot !' - and a few more tickles on the sobbing womans huge, quivering soles. At last, Daria stood there, head hanging, thoroughly chastened and utterly humiliated, topless and barefoot, her breasts jangling with each sobbing breath she took, one foot always covering the other one in futile and far too late attempts to protect them from the tickling... Sylvia faced her with a pleased but stern smile on her face. 'Are you quite ready to leave now ?' Daria whimpered, '...yes... I'm going to leave now... can I please have my clothes back ?' Sylvia only laughed. 'I'm going to keep your blouse and shoes as souvenirs, as well as your purse. Look at it as compensation for my ruined dinner party, you cheap gate crashing slut.' The hostess quickly produced two dollar bills. 'You can have this for your bus ticket home, though,' she added magnanimously. Daria looked up at this with a tear streaked face and whimpered 'But I can't take a bus topless and barefoot !' Then she noticed Sylvia waving a pair of scissors. 'You got thirty seconds to remove yourself from my property. If you're still here then, I'm going to tie you down again and cut off every hair on your head until you're as bald as a cue ball. And then we'll make you LAUGH about it for the ENTIRE NIGHT. Understood ?' But the tall blonde had already taken off, tearing across the lawn to the road as if all the demons of hell were on her trail, finally reaching the street and running off, her big bare feet slapping the pavement and her huge breasts swinging wildly from side to side, while a horde of laughing and mocking wives was chasing her... She finally managed to flag down a car, and without looking inside, jumped through the open passenger door, thankful for the escape. The car took off. Daria began to stammer 'Thank you ! Oh god, thank you ! You rescued me from...' when she suddenly saw who had stopped for her - In the drivers seat sat a young woman with a strangely square jaw and close cropped black hair, wearing a lumberjacks shirt and leather pants, sunglasses and an earring with a large, double bladed axe. The woman was looking at her hungrily like a dog eyeing a steak, and as she pushed the button for the emergency door locks, the car vanished across a bend, a half naked female shape pounding the window from inside, screaming noiselessly...



If you liked this tale of ticklish torture, pay heed ! You can read more of my works, along with many other pieces of high quality fiction, in Tales From The Asylum, the ultimate resource for fiendish tickling fiction and art, and on the magazine's website -
http://www.MTJpub.com !
 
Last edited:
Hope I'm not out of line with this ...

I've gotten a fair amount of positive feedback about the storys I've posted recently, all of which are of a distinctly "harsh" style. So for the people who were not on the board almost a year ago, I'm giving a very belated "bump" to this story that I consider a classic - hope that doesn't sound too immodest - in any case, all I provided was the outline and a few lines of dialogue - the flawless execution is courtesy of the great writer, Marauder. Could hardly beleive that for all the hits, this one never elictied any comments - maybe it will second time around.
 
when this story first posted, i wasnt even a member yet. i was still a "lurker". but i always loved this story!!! Marauder did a fantastic job in writing it based on Sceej's plotline. i only wish i could see something like what happened in person. like if i was hiding in the bushes or something. great story!!!
 
a question?

if everyone agree's that Marauder is one of the best,than why isn't he in the story archives yet.If anybody should be there it's Marauder! just my opinion.
 
Great Job!!!!

Great story, Mar!!!!! I loved it!! I'm going to really watch my feet around you!!! As Daria said, "They're highly Teeeeklissh!!!" LOL You are a class act, my dear. I misss you much. Keep writing!!!

love,

crydun
 
I agree that Marauder should have an archive. I know I read that one but it was a long time ago. Your first one that really grabbed me was Teflon. From that point, I've always made it a point to read your new stuff.

Excellent work.

..Mark
 
Whew, guys, don't make my head pop :) I didn't want an archive of my own because I don't have a lot of works to offer. Even if I were to include the stories Morandilas of MTJ Publishing was kind enough to include in his publications, It'd still be a meager little archive. The free stuff I posted here wouldn't look like more'n a footnote compared with the works of the giants like Max Speer, Dave2112 and Shem the Penman (rest of giants omitted for brevity, no offense or weighing of skills implied towards the artists by in/exclusion or order of names). Archives should be reserved for people who produce high quality in considerable quantity, with more than moderate reliability, not for someone like me who (metaphor)starts off too fast and than collapses wheezing halfway to the finish line(/metaphor). Maybe if my writing block dissolves (read: I get off my lazy butt) and I get back to work for fun (<b>YAY!</b>)and profit(ka-CHING!!! <i>$$$</i> ), I'll ask Myriads if I could pweeze pweeze have an archive, but until then, I sit in a corner puffing my pipe and grouchily grumbling about the good ole' days when I was still one of this here forum's first writers and thus worthy of more notice than a passing "oh, that guy" remark and a dusty Emmy-equivalent for accomplishments of a lifetime, washout that I am.

(Psst, I need to pine that way, it goes with the image I'm trying to build and it nicely accents my little black number, so don't take it seriously)
 
Somehow I must have missed this story the first time out or I'd have certainly made comment on how much I enjoyed it.

It goes right into my list of 10 best stories - which I think has about 35 entries so far.

Brilliant and keep up the good work!!

Quiller
 
Originally posted by Marauder (most deleted)
I sit in a corner puffing my pipe and grouchily grumbling about the good ole' days when I was still one of this here forum's first writers and thus worthy of more notice than a passing "oh, that guy" remark and a dusty Emmy-equivalent for accomplishments of a lifetime, washout that I am.

It was your story, "Money Makes the World Go Around", in the April 2001 issue (#16) of Tales From the Asylum, that caused me to begin to write down my own fantasies as stories. That story remains one of the best tickling stories that I have ever read.
 
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