First a note: Imagine my surprise when I commented on a picture today and realized that I had just made my 300th post thus my pass into "tmf experthood"!! I decided to commemorate this event with a story. Hopefully, you all enjoy it. Please leave comments.
There is a picture of the Lee attached if you would like to be able to visualize the victim throughout the story. Enjoy!!!
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The Battle of Atlanta, widely renowned as the largest, most prestigious, martial arts tournament in the world. Competitors of all ranks, ages, and skill levels compete in multiple categories and events culminating in the winners being known as the best of the best. Michelle Krasnoo was no stranger to competition. She is one of the most famous female martial artists in the world. She has released multiple videos on everything from self-defense to effective forms. Yet, this tournament had the ability to make anyone nervous.
Staring into the mirror affixed to the training room wall with intensity and concentration, Michelle threw combination after combination using her own reflection as an imaginary opponent. Punch after punch, kick after kick, her imaginary opponent took a beating that would have fell Goliath quicker than any stone. All through her shadowboxing practice Michelle wondered at the philosophical nature of using her own reflection as an opponent: Defeating her inner-demons, defeating her own self-doubt.
It was time to stop pushing herself so hard and get some rest for the forms competition tomorrow. She dropped into the splits to take advantage of the current warmth of her muscles and began unwinding her hand wraps revealing the creases in her skin from the tightness of the cotton strips. A shower sounded great. She tossed a towel over her shoulder and headed back towards the showers. Before she got undressed she turned on the water in the shower to assure that the water would be hot. As she placed her hand on the knob someone grabbed her from behind. Panic set in.
A soft cotton cloth over her mouth, she had no idea what chloroform smelled like, but she knew it was the main reason a rag would be placed over her mouth. She knew that she had to do something, or God only knows what would happen in the aftermath of this incident. Whoever had grabbed her had managed to lock her joints up in such a manner that she only had her right arm free. She threw a hard elbow behind her and was shocked when it struck a soft surface with a nylon cover: a chest protector, the same kind that competitor’s sometimes wore to protect their upper body from blows. She struck again, and again; elbow after elbow, each one getting weaker and weaker as the chloroform took effect when finally her arm fell as she couldn’t support the weight of it. Everything went black as reality faded out of existence.
When Michele awoke her head was throbbing similar to the effects of a hang over. She began to reach for it to try to rub out her own pain when she realized that her arms weren’t moving, every time she pulled down she felt the distinct feeling of ropes pulling back, the same with her legs. She was tied spread eagle to some sort of hard surface in the middle of a dark room. She couldn’t see anything, she couldn’t move, what was going on?
“Hello?” She called, “is anyone there?”
“Good, you’re awake. I wondered how long that would take.” A strong female voice answered back as a small light clicked on revealing part of the room. The cold, concrete block walls were reminiscent of a basement and a couple chairs and an empty workbench were the only things that gave any indication that anyone had ever been in this room. The wooden table she was strapped to, sat in the middle of the room. It seemed to have been an afterthought placed long after everything else.
Then Michelle’s captor stepped forward out of the shadows. She was dressed in all black with a mask concealing her facial features.
“A ninja costume? How original!” Michelle snapped. “OK, I don’t know who you are, but the jokes over; you need to let me go NOW! This is not funny.”
“Oh, I have no intention of letting you go, not until I get what I want.” Her mysterious captor stepped forward and began untying Michelle’s customized black belt and undoing the ties of her heavy cotton gi (a traditional karate uniform).
“I don’t know if anyone informed you, but I can tell by your voice that you’re a woman and that means you lack the proper plumbing to rape me, so you might as well let me go!” Michelle’s statement was greeted with a head-snap from her captor.
“Rape you?! You idiot, I want you to throw your first fight in the sparring competition!” This made perfect sense, the tournament was single elimination. Throwing her fight would eliminate Michelle from placing completely.
“Are you kidding? This is the biggest tournament of the year, I am NOT going to throw my fight! Untie me, NOW!!”
“Fine,” the woman replied. “I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way!” With that, she placed her bare hands on Michele’s torso and snaked them until her fingers were resting in the hollows of the gorgeous blonde’s underarms. Then she began wiggling her nails against Michelle’s sensitive skin.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing? Stop that, it tickles!” Michelle began thrashing and twisting trying to get away from the fingers that were igniting her nerve endings.
“Of course it does! I was counting on that.” Her captor’s fingers began moving more rapidly and sporadically caressing every inch of Michelle’s sensitive underarms. Finally Michelle broke.
“Hahahaha crap hahahhaha cut it out! I hate hahahahaha being tickled! Hahahaha *snort* hahahahahehehehehe!!” Michelle’s tiny body thrashed and bucked as the torment continued.
“Did you just snort? You silly little girl!” The woman let her fingers trail down to the underside of Michelle’s sports bra and flipped it up over Michelle’s breasts. She then began drawing lazy circles around her breasts grazing over her areolas occasionally but never touching the nipple itself. “You do understand that this could all be over or the entire dynamic could change if you just promise me that you’ll throw your fight.”
“Not interested!” Michelle yelled and she spit at her captor. Then she felt the woman’s warm soft hands drift down to the floating small ribs just above her flanks and began kneading. This was not good! “SHIT! Hahahahahaha oh my god ahahahaha stop it! Don’t hahahahaha that really hahahehehee ticklessssssssss!” Michele was thrashing and twisting away from the torment to no avail. Her mind was a mess; she hadn’t been tickled like this since she was a kid. Her boyfriends had tried, but with her martial arts experience she was a little more than difficult to hold down. She had forgotten how ticklish she actually was. She had to wonder if her worst spot from her childhood was still as bad as it was then.
The torment of Michelle’s ribs and sides went on for about 20 minutes. Her captor switched occasionally from the kneading technique to light spidery scraping that drove Michelle into absolute hysterics. She also occasionally drifted onto her tight stomach, Michelle considered this a bit of a break since it barely made her giggle but was still fairly ticklish. Then suddenly the torturous tickling stopped.
“OK, hon, are you ready to agree to throwing your fight? Or do I have to keep tickling you?” The woman rested her hands on Michelle’s stomach.
“Please,” Michelle begged. “I can’t throw this fight. My dojo and production company have a year’s worth of publicity riding on this. This is a really important tournament.” Michelle’s pleading eyes had welled up with tears from the intense insatiable laughter.
“Fine,” her captor calmly said. “But, it only gets worse from here.” The woman began tying a strip of fabric around Michelle’s head serving as a blindfold to cover her eyes. When it was tight and she was convinced that Michelle couldn’t see anything she removed her mask. Black masks make you warmer than she had bargained for. Then, she walked down to the foot of the table. Michelle’s feet had been bare when she grabbed her, pretty customary for any martial arts practice. She let her fingers fall on the soles of Michelle’s tiny feet. Considering she spends her entire career barefoot, her feet were in really good shape, no calluses to be found.
Michelle’s mind lit on fire as she went into a state of panic. “Please, not there, don’t do this to me. I really can’t take anymore!” The fingers began to glide on the bottoms of Michelle’s feet, her most sensitive spot, and she went absolutely ballistic. She screamed and thrashed as her head tilted back and her back arched. The screaming subsided into silent laughter as the torturous fingers glided up and down her soles and across the base of her toes. Michelle couldn’t think, she couldn’t talk, she couldn’t even laugh. The torment of her feet was so intense; she just wanted it to end. And it did.
She felt the thumbs of her captor press into the bottom of her soles like a foot massage. She gasped for air, trying to re-oxygenate her body after the ten minutes of torment on her feet. The massaging almost felt good, but then she felt something she never expected. The woman’s warm, wet tongue slid softly between her toes and the torment of her feet was reborn. She was once again laughing and thrashing and she didn’t think it could get any worse until the woman’s lips wrapped around her toe and she felt a light sucking sensation accompanied by a tongue swirling between all the toes on her left foot. This continued and she felt her captor’s nails scraping her right foot once again. Michelle was about to break when she reached the only decision she possibly could. “Stop, stop, I’ll do it. Hahahaha” Michelle managed to squeak out.
“What was that?” The woman asked as she ceased Michelle’s torment.
“I’ll throw the fight, just no more tickling.” Michelle panted.
“That’s all I needed to hear.” The woman pulled out a knife and slashed the rope binding Michelle’s right wrist to the table and laid the knife on Michelle’s stomach. “You can figure out what to do from here.” Seconds later Michele heard the door shut. “One down, four more to go.” The woman thought as she quickly ran from the room where she had left Michelle bound.
Back in the room, Michelle grasped the knife in her hand and set it on the table beside her. She could have cut the bonds, run her captor down, and pummeled her into oblivion, but, with what had just happened Michelle had more important matters to attend to. She hadn’t even cut her other binds when her free hand slid down her stomach passing the elastic waist band of her uniform pants. She began lightly massaging her womanhood, trying to remember all the sensations she had just experienced.
There is a picture of the Lee attached if you would like to be able to visualize the victim throughout the story. Enjoy!!!
***************************************************
The Battle of Atlanta, widely renowned as the largest, most prestigious, martial arts tournament in the world. Competitors of all ranks, ages, and skill levels compete in multiple categories and events culminating in the winners being known as the best of the best. Michelle Krasnoo was no stranger to competition. She is one of the most famous female martial artists in the world. She has released multiple videos on everything from self-defense to effective forms. Yet, this tournament had the ability to make anyone nervous.
Staring into the mirror affixed to the training room wall with intensity and concentration, Michelle threw combination after combination using her own reflection as an imaginary opponent. Punch after punch, kick after kick, her imaginary opponent took a beating that would have fell Goliath quicker than any stone. All through her shadowboxing practice Michelle wondered at the philosophical nature of using her own reflection as an opponent: Defeating her inner-demons, defeating her own self-doubt.
It was time to stop pushing herself so hard and get some rest for the forms competition tomorrow. She dropped into the splits to take advantage of the current warmth of her muscles and began unwinding her hand wraps revealing the creases in her skin from the tightness of the cotton strips. A shower sounded great. She tossed a towel over her shoulder and headed back towards the showers. Before she got undressed she turned on the water in the shower to assure that the water would be hot. As she placed her hand on the knob someone grabbed her from behind. Panic set in.
A soft cotton cloth over her mouth, she had no idea what chloroform smelled like, but she knew it was the main reason a rag would be placed over her mouth. She knew that she had to do something, or God only knows what would happen in the aftermath of this incident. Whoever had grabbed her had managed to lock her joints up in such a manner that she only had her right arm free. She threw a hard elbow behind her and was shocked when it struck a soft surface with a nylon cover: a chest protector, the same kind that competitor’s sometimes wore to protect their upper body from blows. She struck again, and again; elbow after elbow, each one getting weaker and weaker as the chloroform took effect when finally her arm fell as she couldn’t support the weight of it. Everything went black as reality faded out of existence.
When Michele awoke her head was throbbing similar to the effects of a hang over. She began to reach for it to try to rub out her own pain when she realized that her arms weren’t moving, every time she pulled down she felt the distinct feeling of ropes pulling back, the same with her legs. She was tied spread eagle to some sort of hard surface in the middle of a dark room. She couldn’t see anything, she couldn’t move, what was going on?
“Hello?” She called, “is anyone there?”
“Good, you’re awake. I wondered how long that would take.” A strong female voice answered back as a small light clicked on revealing part of the room. The cold, concrete block walls were reminiscent of a basement and a couple chairs and an empty workbench were the only things that gave any indication that anyone had ever been in this room. The wooden table she was strapped to, sat in the middle of the room. It seemed to have been an afterthought placed long after everything else.
Then Michelle’s captor stepped forward out of the shadows. She was dressed in all black with a mask concealing her facial features.
“A ninja costume? How original!” Michelle snapped. “OK, I don’t know who you are, but the jokes over; you need to let me go NOW! This is not funny.”
“Oh, I have no intention of letting you go, not until I get what I want.” Her mysterious captor stepped forward and began untying Michelle’s customized black belt and undoing the ties of her heavy cotton gi (a traditional karate uniform).
“I don’t know if anyone informed you, but I can tell by your voice that you’re a woman and that means you lack the proper plumbing to rape me, so you might as well let me go!” Michelle’s statement was greeted with a head-snap from her captor.
“Rape you?! You idiot, I want you to throw your first fight in the sparring competition!” This made perfect sense, the tournament was single elimination. Throwing her fight would eliminate Michelle from placing completely.
“Are you kidding? This is the biggest tournament of the year, I am NOT going to throw my fight! Untie me, NOW!!”
“Fine,” the woman replied. “I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way!” With that, she placed her bare hands on Michele’s torso and snaked them until her fingers were resting in the hollows of the gorgeous blonde’s underarms. Then she began wiggling her nails against Michelle’s sensitive skin.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing? Stop that, it tickles!” Michelle began thrashing and twisting trying to get away from the fingers that were igniting her nerve endings.
“Of course it does! I was counting on that.” Her captor’s fingers began moving more rapidly and sporadically caressing every inch of Michelle’s sensitive underarms. Finally Michelle broke.
“Hahahaha crap hahahhaha cut it out! I hate hahahahaha being tickled! Hahahaha *snort* hahahahahehehehehe!!” Michelle’s tiny body thrashed and bucked as the torment continued.
“Did you just snort? You silly little girl!” The woman let her fingers trail down to the underside of Michelle’s sports bra and flipped it up over Michelle’s breasts. She then began drawing lazy circles around her breasts grazing over her areolas occasionally but never touching the nipple itself. “You do understand that this could all be over or the entire dynamic could change if you just promise me that you’ll throw your fight.”
“Not interested!” Michelle yelled and she spit at her captor. Then she felt the woman’s warm soft hands drift down to the floating small ribs just above her flanks and began kneading. This was not good! “SHIT! Hahahahahaha oh my god ahahahaha stop it! Don’t hahahahaha that really hahahehehee ticklessssssssss!” Michele was thrashing and twisting away from the torment to no avail. Her mind was a mess; she hadn’t been tickled like this since she was a kid. Her boyfriends had tried, but with her martial arts experience she was a little more than difficult to hold down. She had forgotten how ticklish she actually was. She had to wonder if her worst spot from her childhood was still as bad as it was then.
The torment of Michelle’s ribs and sides went on for about 20 minutes. Her captor switched occasionally from the kneading technique to light spidery scraping that drove Michelle into absolute hysterics. She also occasionally drifted onto her tight stomach, Michelle considered this a bit of a break since it barely made her giggle but was still fairly ticklish. Then suddenly the torturous tickling stopped.
“OK, hon, are you ready to agree to throwing your fight? Or do I have to keep tickling you?” The woman rested her hands on Michelle’s stomach.
“Please,” Michelle begged. “I can’t throw this fight. My dojo and production company have a year’s worth of publicity riding on this. This is a really important tournament.” Michelle’s pleading eyes had welled up with tears from the intense insatiable laughter.
“Fine,” her captor calmly said. “But, it only gets worse from here.” The woman began tying a strip of fabric around Michelle’s head serving as a blindfold to cover her eyes. When it was tight and she was convinced that Michelle couldn’t see anything she removed her mask. Black masks make you warmer than she had bargained for. Then, she walked down to the foot of the table. Michelle’s feet had been bare when she grabbed her, pretty customary for any martial arts practice. She let her fingers fall on the soles of Michelle’s tiny feet. Considering she spends her entire career barefoot, her feet were in really good shape, no calluses to be found.
Michelle’s mind lit on fire as she went into a state of panic. “Please, not there, don’t do this to me. I really can’t take anymore!” The fingers began to glide on the bottoms of Michelle’s feet, her most sensitive spot, and she went absolutely ballistic. She screamed and thrashed as her head tilted back and her back arched. The screaming subsided into silent laughter as the torturous fingers glided up and down her soles and across the base of her toes. Michelle couldn’t think, she couldn’t talk, she couldn’t even laugh. The torment of her feet was so intense; she just wanted it to end. And it did.
She felt the thumbs of her captor press into the bottom of her soles like a foot massage. She gasped for air, trying to re-oxygenate her body after the ten minutes of torment on her feet. The massaging almost felt good, but then she felt something she never expected. The woman’s warm, wet tongue slid softly between her toes and the torment of her feet was reborn. She was once again laughing and thrashing and she didn’t think it could get any worse until the woman’s lips wrapped around her toe and she felt a light sucking sensation accompanied by a tongue swirling between all the toes on her left foot. This continued and she felt her captor’s nails scraping her right foot once again. Michelle was about to break when she reached the only decision she possibly could. “Stop, stop, I’ll do it. Hahahaha” Michelle managed to squeak out.
“What was that?” The woman asked as she ceased Michelle’s torment.
“I’ll throw the fight, just no more tickling.” Michelle panted.
“That’s all I needed to hear.” The woman pulled out a knife and slashed the rope binding Michelle’s right wrist to the table and laid the knife on Michelle’s stomach. “You can figure out what to do from here.” Seconds later Michele heard the door shut. “One down, four more to go.” The woman thought as she quickly ran from the room where she had left Michelle bound.
Back in the room, Michelle grasped the knife in her hand and set it on the table beside her. She could have cut the bonds, run her captor down, and pummeled her into oblivion, but, with what had just happened Michelle had more important matters to attend to. She hadn’t even cut her other binds when her free hand slid down her stomach passing the elastic waist band of her uniform pants. She began lightly massaging her womanhood, trying to remember all the sensations she had just experienced.
