The-Tickling-Master
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Hello! I'm a deviantart fetish writer.
I've decided to post all my stories here for your enjoyment.
I take commissions! If you want to commission me a story, please contact me THROUGH DA. My profile is: http://the-tickling-master.deviantart.com/gallery/
Feedback is greatly appreciated. If you liked (And especially if you disliked) the story, leave a comment!
-------------------------------
This was very likely Becky Lynch’s most important match ever. All her years in Japan, all her years tearing the house down on the indy circuit, everything led to this moment: She was on a WWE ring, bettling for the WWE Divas Championship in one of the biggest shows of the year, the Royal Rumble pay-per-view of 2016.
Standing on the other corner, the blonde figure of her ex-best friend Charlotte stared the challenger back, with a look of absolute, disgusting superiority. The two traded hateful gazes. The redheaded Lass Kicker still remembered like it was yesterday the time where the two were unseparable friends. It was a mere – what, three months? Four? It was not long ago. They were sisters, ready to give their lives to each other. Or, well... At least Becky was. It was now hard to say for sure if Charlotte meant those sweet words from back then. Charlotte was a proud fighter, which always had a bit of an attitude problem – being the daughter of a legends tends to do this to you. But she was always proud in a good way – always trying to prove her worth, and prove she was not just her father’s shadow. Becky missed those days. When they were called to the WWE main-roster, ascending from the developmental brand of NXT, Charlotte quickly made a name for herself and manage to take the WWE Divas Championship away from the ex-champion Nikki Bella.
It was then that things started to change. And it was all that man’s fault, that stupid old bastard currently on Charlotte’s corner, whispering her advice, tricks and plots: The legend, the nature boy, the two time Hall of Famer and sixteen time World Champion across multiple promotions, the man simply known as Ric Flair. Flair was probably the biggest name in wrestling’s history, and his strenght and thoughness were only matched by his smartness. And, while the first two vanished with his age, the latter did not. Flair was a cunning weasel, and his influence was the beginning of the end for the girl’s friendship.
It all started when, after Charlotte’s crowning victory, Becky challenged her for a friendly match on Monday Night RAW. However, with help from her father, Charlotte cheated to win, pinning Becky after a distraction. This kickstarted their rivalry, which blew to hateful proportions. Charlotte was back to being what she used to be on NXT – the “Genetically Superior”, “Bred for the Business” arrogant daughter of the legendary Ric Flair and, always with her father at her corner, cheated her way to the victory of many other matches against many other opponents.
And Becky... Becky was alone. Paige, her other friend, also became a despicable human being months ago, and her little group of friends had now abandoned Becky completely. The Lass Kicker was the only one left with her heart in the right place, it seems. But it doesn’t matter. She was going to defeat Charlotte, and take the Diva’s Championship. While in NXT, Becky was unable to become the NXT Women’s Champion, despite getting close at times. But this was the main roster, this was a whole new life, and she knew she could do it. She was one of the most experienced fighters in the roster and had the heart of a lion. She was going to take silver-and-pink butterfly belt back home.
-------------- o -------------------- o -------------------------- o -----------------------
Charlotte looked down at Becky, as her redheaded friend stretched herself in the corner in preparation for the match. Becky always was too eager for her own good. She didn’t stand a chance. Charlotte was taller and, despite being less muscular than Becky overall, she had skill, the skill that runs in her Flair blood. And, with her father at her corner, she had nothing to fear.
The match started, and Becky’s anger and resentment was quickly felt with the itensity she tackled Charlotte. Both women grappled for a bit, and Charlotte quickly found herself on the receiving end of a headlock. She pushed Becky against the ropes and clotheslined her, taking the girl down for a moment.
------------ o -------------------- o ----------------------- o --------------------------
Five minutes have passed, and Becky was starting to regret her strategy. She had dominated the start of the match, striking with fury, but Charlotte was resilliant and, above everything, smart. And Becky could see now, she had been outsmarted. She wasted too much energy attacking with anger, and, despite being able to wear out Charlotte a bit, it was becoming very clear that the Genetically Superior wrestler had the stamina advantage.
They made contact once again, and Charlotte as able to toss Becky in the corner. The Lass Kicker lost her breath with the vicious chop to the chest that Charlotte gave her, and fell to the ground, stunned. The blond opponent took advantage, lifting Becky up and throwing her against the ropes on the other side of the ring. Becky bounced on them, running almost on auto-pilot, and tried to plan a comeback, but it was too late – she took a big boot to the face and fell to the floor, more stunned than before. Hopeless, she felt Charlotte grabbing her legs and putting them in position, and soon she felt the stinging pain associated with theFigure Eight Leg-Lock, the evolution of her father’s Figure Four, and twice as destructive. Soon, Becky was screaming in the middle of the ring, Charlotte’s legs forcing her own to bend in ways legs are not supposed to bend.
But Becky’s greatest strenght was her determination. She would NOT tap – not to this Charlotte, this cheating, dishonored Flair spawn. Her legs could break for all she cared – she clenched her fists thight, and refused to tap, screaming to take her mind away from the pain.
Screaming, she tried to reach for the ropes, with little success. But that was what she would do until Charlotte decided to simply break her legs and pin her.
--------------- o -------------- o ----------------------- o --------------------------
‘I could simply break her legs and pin her’, thought Charlotte. But that was not what she wanted. Not that she minded breaking Becky’s leg – she brought this upon herself. She could have just accepted her first loss and moved on, but noooo, Becky couldn’t accept that Charlotte and her father outsmarted her.
What Charlotte wanted, however, was to make her tap. To make her humilliate herself and admit utter defeat at the hands of a superior opponent. Charlotte was bred for this business and wouldn’t accept a measily pinfall victory. But she also knew that Becky was stubborn as a mule and prideful as a lion. When she was in this mode, no amount of pain would break her will. Maybe she needed something different to make her tap, but what?
It was then that memories from their time as friends. One silly girl’s night at Paige’s house that evolved into a tickle fight. Becky cried and begged when Paige and Charlotte focused on her, and told the girls about how absurdly ticklish she was. A smirk spread through the Flair’s daughter’s face. Yes, this idea was perfect. It was a win-win scenario – even if the Lass Kicker didn’t tap, it would be a pretty humilliating experience.
----------------- o -------------------- o --------------------o -------------------------
Becky almost cried of relief when Charlotte stopped applying pressure into the figure eight, dropping from her arms and lying on her back. However, she noticed her legs were still trapped in Charlotte’s leglock. Weakened, she couldn’t do much but accept the motions when Charlotte rolled to the side, making both girls lay on her stomaches. This was a perfect position to counter the Figure Four lock and apply pressure into Charlotte instead, but Becky simply did not have the leg strenght necessary right now. Also, Charlotte didn’t leave this window opened, smoothly transitioning positions, quickly pulling Becky’s legs closer and changing the lock. Now, it wasn’t a submission move. In fact, this wasn’t a wrestling position at all. Charlotte was just sitting on her ankles, keeping her feet trapped. What the hell was going on?
Becky’s mental question wasn’t initially answered – in fact, she only grew more puzzled as she felt Charlotte taking away her boots. In any other situation, she would have quickly escaped, but the damage on her legs was too severe to do so on the present moment. Becky just panted and tried to recover her strenght, happy that Charlotte was messing around and allowing her this opening.
Then, she felt something, and things became clearer. A single finger going up her right sole. The surprise and the intensity of the feel made Becky squeal loudly. Another finger slid up her left sole, and now Becky was a bit more prepared, and managed to hold back any sounds – but wasn’t able to stop her face from contorting to a smirk of hillariaty. Why tickling? What kind of idea was that?!
Suddenly and without warning, Charlotte started to scribble her nails on both Becky’s soles, tickling them for real. Becky screamed with the sudden shift of intensity, and started laughing. She tried her best to contain her laughter, but at this point, it was impossible – the floodgates had opened, and the water was flowing. And she barely had strenght to struggle, and the little strenght she had was being consumed by the torturous ticklish sensations. Charlotte quickly started to tickle her in an extremely methodical way, scratching her soles with her nails, up and down, up and down, rythimically, every second building anticipation for the next. Becky punched the floor in frustration, looking for something to take her mind our of the tickling.
------------------- o ---------------------- o --------------------o ------------------
The referee just watched all of that, confused. The poor man mentally reviewed the pages of the WWE Rulebook, a maze of confusing and inconsistent rules and regulations, but couldn’t recall anything that would classify Charlotte’s current technique as an illegal maneauver. The man was quickly pulled out of his trance, however, when he heard Charlotte speak to him:
- Ask her, ref!
The man quickly approached Becky Lynch.
- Becky, do you want to quit?
The redheaded girl only shook her head in denial – and then screamed in laughter as Charlotte intensified the tickling on her feet as punishment. She looked around, trying to find a rope to reach and break damn the hold, but she was right at the center of the ring, far away from anything that could bring and end to her torment.
------------------ o --------------- o -----------------------o -----------------------
Torment was the best way to describe what Becky was feeling. She was wildly ticklish, on her feet and pretty much everywhere, and while a life of fighting made her quite resistant to pain, she never trained for something like that, and it was taking a toll on her stamina extremely quickly.
And Charlotte soon added verbal teasing to the mix, which only made everything worse. “Coochie coochie coo”, “What’s the problem, Becky? Too ticklish?” “Is the mighty Lass Kicker ticklish?” and such. Becky’s face was as red as her hair, partly because of the laughter, partly because of the humilliation.
This went on for at least another full minute before Charlotte stopped, apparently tired, but still not letting go of Becky’s feet. The champion’s face became contemplative, analyzing a new strategy, but Becky could only lay on the ground, panting, thankful for the moment of rest. Her mind wanted to break free and Charlotte’s graps and destroy her, but her body was broken, refusing to obey her comands, just focused on recovering some strenght.
Which, of course, Charlotte would not allow.
------------------- o -------------------- o ------------------------ o ----------------------
The Genetically Superior Diva was deeply enjoying that. For some reason, reducing the mighty and prideful Lass Kicker to a screaming, laughing schoolgirl was a power-trip beyond what Charlotte expected. And it fit her nicely. She was the superior Diva, a queen among insects, and the competition existed only to amuse her. Becky was learning her place as the playtoy of the champion. However, Becky was taking too long to tap, and each second wasted was a chance of her finding strenght to fight through the tickling and counter-attack. She needed to find her weakest spot, her achille’s heel – and it was very clear that her actual heels weren’t it, despite the amazing results they were giving nonetheless. Charlotte’s mind went back to the tickle fight at Paige’s house, and she remembered there was one spot that Becky covered at all costs.
Yes. That would break her.
------------------ o ------------------------ o --------------------- o -----------------------
Becky could barely register as Charlotte finally let her go, but the relief was extremely short-lived – it was just a change of position, as Charlotte quickly grabbed her and dragged her to the ground. Becky didn’t have energy to fight back and just complied as Charlotte arranged her body in the desired position. Becky felt as Charlotte’s legs went under her arms, and locked themselves behind her head, trapping Becky in a position with her arms up. Then, Charlotte laid down, stretching Becky. The redheaded struggled, but it was useless. It took her a few seconds to realize what was about to happen. Her eyes widened in terror, and she begged:
- NO! PLEASE! NOT THERE!
Her pleas were met with the feeling of Charlotte’s fingers scribbling on her armpits. Becky went ballistic.
- NOHOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHO!!! PLLEHEHEHEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHASSSSHEHEHEHE!!
Becky was ticklish everywhere, but her armpits were off the charts. The diva was reduced to a laughing, trashing, begging mess as Charlotte’s nails cruely explored her hollows. Becky howled in despair, and squirmed with strenght she didn’t know she had, but it was impossible to escape Charlotte’s tight grasp. Now and then, the blonde diva would tickle Becky’s ribs and sides to add some variety, but she focused the bulk of her efforts in Becky’s armpits.
Her body was already broken and, finally, the tickling was taking a toll on her mind and will. Two minutes in, she started to cry, the tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t want to lose to Charlotte. Her ex-friend didn’t deserve that belt, and that was Becky’s dream. She couldn’t abdicate of this because of tickling.
And, yet, as if reading her mind, Charlotte digged deeper into her armpits, and those toughts started to fight with her desire to make the tickling stop, an excruciating mental battle between her body’s needs and her soul’s pride. In the meantime, all Becky could do was laugh, and laugh she did, loud and intensely, with a huge dose of desperation, a laughter that was very different from someone laughing at a joke and more akin to the screams of a tortured prisioner. Charlotte’s fingers went up and down her armpits, never allowing an inch to desensitize, always renewing the torture. And, with each second, Becky’s body gained more and more of an upperhand against her soul. The tickling was breaking her in ways she didn’t know was possible. It was so horrible!
Finally, Charlotte grabbed a particularly sensitive spot, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Her pride vanished, her will was crushed, and Becky Lynch became an animal with only one instinct: To make the tickling stop, at all costs. In this single solitary moment of irrationality, her urges moved her hand, and she tapped out against the air, without being able to reach the ground or any part of Charlotte’s body.
- IHIHIHIHIHHIHI QQUIHIHIHIHIHIHITTTT!! – She yelled in despair, and only then the referee understood. The bell was rung, but Charlotte kept going, making Becky’s screams reach new heights. – IHIHIHIHIHI GGGIHIHIHHIHIIVVVHEHEHEHE UHUHUHUHUHPPP!! IHIHIHIH CHAHAHAHANNTTT THAHAHAHAHAKKHEHEHEHEHE AAHAHAHANYYMOHOHOHOHORRRHEHEHE!! STOHOHOHOHP IHIHIH BEHEHEHEHEG YOHOHOHOHOHUU!! – Becky was able to scream amid her laughter, but Charlotte wasn’t listening. She wanted to make the redhead suffer, to make sure she would never defy her again, to make sure she understood her place as a vermin at Charlotte’s boots. Only when the referee interfered that Charlotte let her go.
Becky’s body fell to the side, useless, as the redheaded alternated between panting and gasping for breath, and crying intensely. Her title shot, wasted. Her dreams, crushed. Her carreer, ruined – how could she ever recover herself from such an humilliation? She could hear the whole stadium laughing, and their laughing made her cry even more. Everything was over...
It was when she felt Charlotte grabbing her again, and putting her in the same position she was before. Becky cried even more, screaming and trashing like an animal, looking for the best words to beg for mercy. Despite everything, she was still broken, and would do anything to not get tickled further. So, she screamed, begged and cried, in the vain hope of satisfying her tormentor.
It was then that a music hit. “Had a dream I I hadn’t made it” echoed in the arena, as the crowd went wild for the appearance of The Boss, Sasha Banks. The diva made her way down the ramp and into the ring, staring at Charlotte – which, in the surprise, let Becky go and rose to face the new challenger.
Sasha, however, turned to Becky. She said something that Becky didn’t quite register, but noticed was a taunt about ticklishness, and then kicked Becky out of the ring, laughing together with Charlotte at her expense. She was too broken and tired to complain, and just laid in the ground, happy that the tickling was over, as Sasha turned on Charlotte and locked her in her traditional submission – the Banks Statement – to kickstart their rivalry moving on.
And Becky? Would she recover from this humilliating defeat and regain her place among the contenders for the title? Only time will tell.
I've decided to post all my stories here for your enjoyment.
I take commissions! If you want to commission me a story, please contact me THROUGH DA. My profile is: http://the-tickling-master.deviantart.com/gallery/
Feedback is greatly appreciated. If you liked (And especially if you disliked) the story, leave a comment!
-------------------------------
This was very likely Becky Lynch’s most important match ever. All her years in Japan, all her years tearing the house down on the indy circuit, everything led to this moment: She was on a WWE ring, bettling for the WWE Divas Championship in one of the biggest shows of the year, the Royal Rumble pay-per-view of 2016.
Standing on the other corner, the blonde figure of her ex-best friend Charlotte stared the challenger back, with a look of absolute, disgusting superiority. The two traded hateful gazes. The redheaded Lass Kicker still remembered like it was yesterday the time where the two were unseparable friends. It was a mere – what, three months? Four? It was not long ago. They were sisters, ready to give their lives to each other. Or, well... At least Becky was. It was now hard to say for sure if Charlotte meant those sweet words from back then. Charlotte was a proud fighter, which always had a bit of an attitude problem – being the daughter of a legends tends to do this to you. But she was always proud in a good way – always trying to prove her worth, and prove she was not just her father’s shadow. Becky missed those days. When they were called to the WWE main-roster, ascending from the developmental brand of NXT, Charlotte quickly made a name for herself and manage to take the WWE Divas Championship away from the ex-champion Nikki Bella.
It was then that things started to change. And it was all that man’s fault, that stupid old bastard currently on Charlotte’s corner, whispering her advice, tricks and plots: The legend, the nature boy, the two time Hall of Famer and sixteen time World Champion across multiple promotions, the man simply known as Ric Flair. Flair was probably the biggest name in wrestling’s history, and his strenght and thoughness were only matched by his smartness. And, while the first two vanished with his age, the latter did not. Flair was a cunning weasel, and his influence was the beginning of the end for the girl’s friendship.
It all started when, after Charlotte’s crowning victory, Becky challenged her for a friendly match on Monday Night RAW. However, with help from her father, Charlotte cheated to win, pinning Becky after a distraction. This kickstarted their rivalry, which blew to hateful proportions. Charlotte was back to being what she used to be on NXT – the “Genetically Superior”, “Bred for the Business” arrogant daughter of the legendary Ric Flair and, always with her father at her corner, cheated her way to the victory of many other matches against many other opponents.
And Becky... Becky was alone. Paige, her other friend, also became a despicable human being months ago, and her little group of friends had now abandoned Becky completely. The Lass Kicker was the only one left with her heart in the right place, it seems. But it doesn’t matter. She was going to defeat Charlotte, and take the Diva’s Championship. While in NXT, Becky was unable to become the NXT Women’s Champion, despite getting close at times. But this was the main roster, this was a whole new life, and she knew she could do it. She was one of the most experienced fighters in the roster and had the heart of a lion. She was going to take silver-and-pink butterfly belt back home.
-------------- o -------------------- o -------------------------- o -----------------------
Charlotte looked down at Becky, as her redheaded friend stretched herself in the corner in preparation for the match. Becky always was too eager for her own good. She didn’t stand a chance. Charlotte was taller and, despite being less muscular than Becky overall, she had skill, the skill that runs in her Flair blood. And, with her father at her corner, she had nothing to fear.
The match started, and Becky’s anger and resentment was quickly felt with the itensity she tackled Charlotte. Both women grappled for a bit, and Charlotte quickly found herself on the receiving end of a headlock. She pushed Becky against the ropes and clotheslined her, taking the girl down for a moment.
------------ o -------------------- o ----------------------- o --------------------------
Five minutes have passed, and Becky was starting to regret her strategy. She had dominated the start of the match, striking with fury, but Charlotte was resilliant and, above everything, smart. And Becky could see now, she had been outsmarted. She wasted too much energy attacking with anger, and, despite being able to wear out Charlotte a bit, it was becoming very clear that the Genetically Superior wrestler had the stamina advantage.
They made contact once again, and Charlotte as able to toss Becky in the corner. The Lass Kicker lost her breath with the vicious chop to the chest that Charlotte gave her, and fell to the ground, stunned. The blond opponent took advantage, lifting Becky up and throwing her against the ropes on the other side of the ring. Becky bounced on them, running almost on auto-pilot, and tried to plan a comeback, but it was too late – she took a big boot to the face and fell to the floor, more stunned than before. Hopeless, she felt Charlotte grabbing her legs and putting them in position, and soon she felt the stinging pain associated with theFigure Eight Leg-Lock, the evolution of her father’s Figure Four, and twice as destructive. Soon, Becky was screaming in the middle of the ring, Charlotte’s legs forcing her own to bend in ways legs are not supposed to bend.
But Becky’s greatest strenght was her determination. She would NOT tap – not to this Charlotte, this cheating, dishonored Flair spawn. Her legs could break for all she cared – she clenched her fists thight, and refused to tap, screaming to take her mind away from the pain.
Screaming, she tried to reach for the ropes, with little success. But that was what she would do until Charlotte decided to simply break her legs and pin her.
--------------- o -------------- o ----------------------- o --------------------------
‘I could simply break her legs and pin her’, thought Charlotte. But that was not what she wanted. Not that she minded breaking Becky’s leg – she brought this upon herself. She could have just accepted her first loss and moved on, but noooo, Becky couldn’t accept that Charlotte and her father outsmarted her.
What Charlotte wanted, however, was to make her tap. To make her humilliate herself and admit utter defeat at the hands of a superior opponent. Charlotte was bred for this business and wouldn’t accept a measily pinfall victory. But she also knew that Becky was stubborn as a mule and prideful as a lion. When she was in this mode, no amount of pain would break her will. Maybe she needed something different to make her tap, but what?
It was then that memories from their time as friends. One silly girl’s night at Paige’s house that evolved into a tickle fight. Becky cried and begged when Paige and Charlotte focused on her, and told the girls about how absurdly ticklish she was. A smirk spread through the Flair’s daughter’s face. Yes, this idea was perfect. It was a win-win scenario – even if the Lass Kicker didn’t tap, it would be a pretty humilliating experience.
----------------- o -------------------- o --------------------o -------------------------
Becky almost cried of relief when Charlotte stopped applying pressure into the figure eight, dropping from her arms and lying on her back. However, she noticed her legs were still trapped in Charlotte’s leglock. Weakened, she couldn’t do much but accept the motions when Charlotte rolled to the side, making both girls lay on her stomaches. This was a perfect position to counter the Figure Four lock and apply pressure into Charlotte instead, but Becky simply did not have the leg strenght necessary right now. Also, Charlotte didn’t leave this window opened, smoothly transitioning positions, quickly pulling Becky’s legs closer and changing the lock. Now, it wasn’t a submission move. In fact, this wasn’t a wrestling position at all. Charlotte was just sitting on her ankles, keeping her feet trapped. What the hell was going on?
Becky’s mental question wasn’t initially answered – in fact, she only grew more puzzled as she felt Charlotte taking away her boots. In any other situation, she would have quickly escaped, but the damage on her legs was too severe to do so on the present moment. Becky just panted and tried to recover her strenght, happy that Charlotte was messing around and allowing her this opening.
Then, she felt something, and things became clearer. A single finger going up her right sole. The surprise and the intensity of the feel made Becky squeal loudly. Another finger slid up her left sole, and now Becky was a bit more prepared, and managed to hold back any sounds – but wasn’t able to stop her face from contorting to a smirk of hillariaty. Why tickling? What kind of idea was that?!
Suddenly and without warning, Charlotte started to scribble her nails on both Becky’s soles, tickling them for real. Becky screamed with the sudden shift of intensity, and started laughing. She tried her best to contain her laughter, but at this point, it was impossible – the floodgates had opened, and the water was flowing. And she barely had strenght to struggle, and the little strenght she had was being consumed by the torturous ticklish sensations. Charlotte quickly started to tickle her in an extremely methodical way, scratching her soles with her nails, up and down, up and down, rythimically, every second building anticipation for the next. Becky punched the floor in frustration, looking for something to take her mind our of the tickling.
------------------- o ---------------------- o --------------------o ------------------
The referee just watched all of that, confused. The poor man mentally reviewed the pages of the WWE Rulebook, a maze of confusing and inconsistent rules and regulations, but couldn’t recall anything that would classify Charlotte’s current technique as an illegal maneauver. The man was quickly pulled out of his trance, however, when he heard Charlotte speak to him:
- Ask her, ref!
The man quickly approached Becky Lynch.
- Becky, do you want to quit?
The redheaded girl only shook her head in denial – and then screamed in laughter as Charlotte intensified the tickling on her feet as punishment. She looked around, trying to find a rope to reach and break damn the hold, but she was right at the center of the ring, far away from anything that could bring and end to her torment.
------------------ o --------------- o -----------------------o -----------------------
Torment was the best way to describe what Becky was feeling. She was wildly ticklish, on her feet and pretty much everywhere, and while a life of fighting made her quite resistant to pain, she never trained for something like that, and it was taking a toll on her stamina extremely quickly.
And Charlotte soon added verbal teasing to the mix, which only made everything worse. “Coochie coochie coo”, “What’s the problem, Becky? Too ticklish?” “Is the mighty Lass Kicker ticklish?” and such. Becky’s face was as red as her hair, partly because of the laughter, partly because of the humilliation.
This went on for at least another full minute before Charlotte stopped, apparently tired, but still not letting go of Becky’s feet. The champion’s face became contemplative, analyzing a new strategy, but Becky could only lay on the ground, panting, thankful for the moment of rest. Her mind wanted to break free and Charlotte’s graps and destroy her, but her body was broken, refusing to obey her comands, just focused on recovering some strenght.
Which, of course, Charlotte would not allow.
------------------- o -------------------- o ------------------------ o ----------------------
The Genetically Superior Diva was deeply enjoying that. For some reason, reducing the mighty and prideful Lass Kicker to a screaming, laughing schoolgirl was a power-trip beyond what Charlotte expected. And it fit her nicely. She was the superior Diva, a queen among insects, and the competition existed only to amuse her. Becky was learning her place as the playtoy of the champion. However, Becky was taking too long to tap, and each second wasted was a chance of her finding strenght to fight through the tickling and counter-attack. She needed to find her weakest spot, her achille’s heel – and it was very clear that her actual heels weren’t it, despite the amazing results they were giving nonetheless. Charlotte’s mind went back to the tickle fight at Paige’s house, and she remembered there was one spot that Becky covered at all costs.
Yes. That would break her.
------------------ o ------------------------ o --------------------- o -----------------------
Becky could barely register as Charlotte finally let her go, but the relief was extremely short-lived – it was just a change of position, as Charlotte quickly grabbed her and dragged her to the ground. Becky didn’t have energy to fight back and just complied as Charlotte arranged her body in the desired position. Becky felt as Charlotte’s legs went under her arms, and locked themselves behind her head, trapping Becky in a position with her arms up. Then, Charlotte laid down, stretching Becky. The redheaded struggled, but it was useless. It took her a few seconds to realize what was about to happen. Her eyes widened in terror, and she begged:
- NO! PLEASE! NOT THERE!
Her pleas were met with the feeling of Charlotte’s fingers scribbling on her armpits. Becky went ballistic.
- NOHOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHO!!! PLLEHEHEHEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHASSSSHEHEHEHE!!
Becky was ticklish everywhere, but her armpits were off the charts. The diva was reduced to a laughing, trashing, begging mess as Charlotte’s nails cruely explored her hollows. Becky howled in despair, and squirmed with strenght she didn’t know she had, but it was impossible to escape Charlotte’s tight grasp. Now and then, the blonde diva would tickle Becky’s ribs and sides to add some variety, but she focused the bulk of her efforts in Becky’s armpits.
Her body was already broken and, finally, the tickling was taking a toll on her mind and will. Two minutes in, she started to cry, the tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t want to lose to Charlotte. Her ex-friend didn’t deserve that belt, and that was Becky’s dream. She couldn’t abdicate of this because of tickling.
And, yet, as if reading her mind, Charlotte digged deeper into her armpits, and those toughts started to fight with her desire to make the tickling stop, an excruciating mental battle between her body’s needs and her soul’s pride. In the meantime, all Becky could do was laugh, and laugh she did, loud and intensely, with a huge dose of desperation, a laughter that was very different from someone laughing at a joke and more akin to the screams of a tortured prisioner. Charlotte’s fingers went up and down her armpits, never allowing an inch to desensitize, always renewing the torture. And, with each second, Becky’s body gained more and more of an upperhand against her soul. The tickling was breaking her in ways she didn’t know was possible. It was so horrible!
Finally, Charlotte grabbed a particularly sensitive spot, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Her pride vanished, her will was crushed, and Becky Lynch became an animal with only one instinct: To make the tickling stop, at all costs. In this single solitary moment of irrationality, her urges moved her hand, and she tapped out against the air, without being able to reach the ground or any part of Charlotte’s body.
- IHIHIHIHIHHIHI QQUIHIHIHIHIHIHITTTT!! – She yelled in despair, and only then the referee understood. The bell was rung, but Charlotte kept going, making Becky’s screams reach new heights. – IHIHIHIHIHI GGGIHIHIHHIHIIVVVHEHEHEHE UHUHUHUHUHPPP!! IHIHIHIH CHAHAHAHANNTTT THAHAHAHAHAKKHEHEHEHEHE AAHAHAHANYYMOHOHOHOHORRRHEHEHE!! STOHOHOHOHP IHIHIH BEHEHEHEHEG YOHOHOHOHOHUU!! – Becky was able to scream amid her laughter, but Charlotte wasn’t listening. She wanted to make the redhead suffer, to make sure she would never defy her again, to make sure she understood her place as a vermin at Charlotte’s boots. Only when the referee interfered that Charlotte let her go.
Becky’s body fell to the side, useless, as the redheaded alternated between panting and gasping for breath, and crying intensely. Her title shot, wasted. Her dreams, crushed. Her carreer, ruined – how could she ever recover herself from such an humilliation? She could hear the whole stadium laughing, and their laughing made her cry even more. Everything was over...
It was when she felt Charlotte grabbing her again, and putting her in the same position she was before. Becky cried even more, screaming and trashing like an animal, looking for the best words to beg for mercy. Despite everything, she was still broken, and would do anything to not get tickled further. So, she screamed, begged and cried, in the vain hope of satisfying her tormentor.
It was then that a music hit. “Had a dream I I hadn’t made it” echoed in the arena, as the crowd went wild for the appearance of The Boss, Sasha Banks. The diva made her way down the ramp and into the ring, staring at Charlotte – which, in the surprise, let Becky go and rose to face the new challenger.
Sasha, however, turned to Becky. She said something that Becky didn’t quite register, but noticed was a taunt about ticklishness, and then kicked Becky out of the ring, laughing together with Charlotte at her expense. She was too broken and tired to complain, and just laid in the ground, happy that the tickling was over, as Sasha turned on Charlotte and locked her in her traditional submission – the Banks Statement – to kickstart their rivalry moving on.
And Becky? Would she recover from this humilliating defeat and regain her place among the contenders for the title? Only time will tell.
