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  1. #1
    Join Date
    Jul 2012
    Blog Entries

    Avonelle, Krampus and the Klauses mmf*/f Belated x-mas story

    Happy belated Christmas, here is present for you all. It gets darker and more sexual as it goes on.

    - - - - -

    The two figures sat hunched in the alley, it was an unseasonably warm winter and yet both felt cold and an unhappiness that no passer’s by could ever truly understand. The larger of the two wore a coat that was once red, but was now faded and stained. A few years back he had swallowed his pride and worn the visage of his former glory turned red from green as his power rotted from within. It was a decision he had regretted and he had left without being paid, each spoiled child who screamed a reminder of how he had failed in his noble task to make the best of his exile on this rock.

    His companion cackled a braying laugh as he sipped the bottle of whiskey he had stolen from an un-attended shopping bag. Unlike the large man he was wiry and sinewy with dark wispy hair and a mad look in his eye. Most who looked his way instantly looked away, recoiling from the madness in the tramp’s eyes. Those who did not see him instinctively cut a wide berth, holding their breath at the terrible stench of ashes, brimstone and goat. In all his mannerisms and movements there was something distinctively licentious, demonic and goat-like.

    Meanwhile a short distance away Avonelle walked with her usual arrogance and nonchalance her styling, red high heels clicking on the pavement as she took her shortcut. She was tall and slim with freshly dyed blonde hair, a figure most women would kill for and crazy long legs that seemed to go on forever. Avoiding the wet grass she loosened her handbag allowing her small dog to breath and bark its annoying bark. As a fashion accessory it was proving to be more trouble than it was worth and after being seen with it she decided she would abandon it somewhere soon; the thought to put it up for adoption never even crossed her mind. She held the stupid creature as it did its business, recoiling from the smell before abandoning its wet brown leavings in the grass by the children’s play area.

    “Excuse me! Our children play here! Do you want to clean that up?!” A woman’s voice shouted in a posh accent with a north London twang.

    “No as it happens I don’t!” Avonelle replied, the arrogance of her American accent enraging her rebuker who was too weighed down with shopping to respond with anything other than a shake of the head.

    ‘As if I care about some bratty British children!’ Avonelle thought as she strode away. She hated children, even when she was one she had hated the other children in her orphanage. Within seconds Avonelle was gone taking her shortcut in quick bounds that never allowed her prized red shoes to become soiled. She quite forgot the stupid little dog that whimpered and tried to keep up; its little legs unable to match Avonelle’s long-legged strides and its paws in agony from eight generations of in-breeding that made pain-killers necessary for walking on hard surfaces, medication it had not received along with neither food, attention nor love.

    “C’mon sweetie! Let’s see if we can find you a better home!” Said the woman with the shopping as the poor dog whined pathetically.

    Avonelle continued to stride purposefully on her way home from returning the many gifts of jewellery for the money. She had recovered the receipts from all her suitors she had led-on during the run-up to Christmas, and had made a fuss to get a store credit at one shop with a snooty sales clerk she had taken the name of for her complaint letter. She didn’t even realise she had forgotten the dog which she thought was a stupid gift anyway, but the dumb body builder who bought it for her was loaded and not bad to look at so she would keep him on her hook.

    Avonelle positively beamed as she walked knowing that she had managed to break up at least one marriage as a result of her gold digging. Avonelle crossed the road and headed towards the alleyway that cut down a twenty minute journey to only ten. It wasn’t even listed on google maps but she had discovered it on an old road map shortly after moving to London, normally she would have called a cab but today they charged extra even though Christmas was over. Normally the alleyway was empty but today there were two tramps sat opposite one another, one fat and bloated the other stinking and grinning evilly as his glanced around with wicked and insane eyes. Avonelle could barely bring herself to look at the skinny once so glared at the other one.

    “Spare any change?” The fat tramp asked from behind his stained and knotted white beard.

    “No!!!!... Now Fuck off or I will call the police you worthless old tramp!” Avonelle spat with such venom the old man was taken aback.

    “Haa-haaw! Not much Christmas spirit in this one Dear Brother!” The other tramp laughed, his mad cackle making Avonelle shiver. She could not even bring herself to look at the flea-ridden tramp, he was so disgusting it was like her brain refused to acknowledge he was there.

    “Now that wasn’t very nice my dear, if you don’t have any change you could have just shaken your head and been on your way…” The fat tramp explained in his deep rumbling voice, recalling other passer’s by and their lies before being interrupted.

    “Oh I have money, lots of money! Just none for pathetic alcoholics like you!” Avonelle interrupted kicking the old man in the leg with her expensive high heels.

    “Ouch!” The old man gulped feeling the pain of failure more than any pain in the shell of flesh he was forced to endure.

    There was a blur of movement from behind Avonelle. Within seconds she was screaming kicking her feet in the air her expensive high heels threatening to come off. The other tramp had seized her and hoisted her onto his wiry shoulders. Avonelle screamed muffled screams into a smelly burlap sack that had instantly engulfed her from the head to the knees such that her calves and feet were all that any onlooker would have been able to see; kicking in their sheer thermal tights. But there were no on-lookers and no forgiveness.

    “What do you say brother? Since we found no Christmas joy to nourish our curséd spirits, shall we create a true believer? Such that next year we may be restored.” The wiry tramp asked holding Avonelle on his shoulder with inhuman strength and poise.

    The fat tramp smiled catching one of Avonelle’s high heels as it flew from her foot towards his face. With a broad smile he replied;

    “I think that would be most fun! I shall need your help in restoring my workshop; like me it has been much diminished by this imposter in a red coat my children have created”.

    The burlap sack assaulted Avonelle‘s senses such that she could have sworn she heard and felt chains rattling and clanking as she struggled. She hated that she had lost one of her prized red shoes, no doubt it would be ruined! Worse still her ticklish nylon-clad sole was exposed making her feel vulnerable. Avonelle screamed and raged threatening imprisonment and lawsuits against her captor. Little did she realise she was now imprisoned and no laws applied to her current situation, not even the laws of physics.

    Avonelle became dizzy as she seemed to spin, some internal sense told her she was moving like the unconscious awareness of movement on a train or boat only different to anything she had ever felt before. Her other shoe was gone and Avonelle screamed, even the scintillating currents of air running across her sensitive feet were too much for her to bear. Finally her dizzying journey came to a halt and her captor placed her stocking clad feet down on what felt like a warm wooden floor.

    Avonelle blinked as the sack was removed, she had expected to blink at the evening light as her eyes adjusted but there was almost as much gloom here. She could make little out through the darkness apart from her two captors and the chains which she felt move as if of their own accord.

    Why do you freaks do have fucking chains!” Avonelle exclaimed without thinking.

    “Oh we all have chains! Only most of your lot can’t see them!” The wiry tramp laughed, his foul breath offending Avonelle who turned her face still unable to look at the wiry tramp.

    “What the fuck do you want with me! Where the fuck am I?” Avonelle retorted trying to find her balance in the gloomy vortex of shifting shadows.

    “This used to be my workshop, only since I… well let’s say I can’t afford the rent!... It has all but ceased to be” The fat tramp kindly explained as he set her red designer heels down on a shadow that was slowly forming itself into a worktop table..

    “Wha?... What are you talking about?! How did I get here?!” Avonelle asked woozily, still disoriented.

    “I brought you in my sack!” The wiry tramp replied directing the chains as if by magic with his hands.

    Avonelle still couldn’t hold the wiry tramp’s gaze, something instinctive told her to look away and afterwards she remembered seeing two things; a horrible old tramp and a goat-like figure with horns and red scaly skin. She began to wonder if she had been drugged; ‘Yes that must be it! Chloroform or something in the sackcloth!’ She thought to herself as the chains snaked around her wrists and ankles.

    “This isn’t happening!” Avonelle cried as the chains pulled her into an upright X shape.

    “Oh I’m afraid it is!” The wiry tramp answered.

    “No!...Let me go! How are you even doing this?” Avonelle screamed struggling against the chains and looked around to see what they were attached to.

    “We still have some power left, my brother once all but stopped existing but now is growing stronger. I on the other hand have lost almost all of my power to the red-coated imposter your kind insist upon making out of plastic!” The fat tramp explained lighting a candle in a holder dispelling some of the gloom.

    “What?! Do you think your Santa?” Avonelle laughed mockingly.

    “No!!!! I was Father Christmas!... And before that I was Saint Nicholas!!!! And before that I was The Green Man!!!!...” The great man bellowed, his booming voice growing ever louder as his white beard lost its stain and his eyes grew brighter.

    “Your kind!... You!... Created this ‘Santa’ and robbed me of my power! But I still have some of it left and unlike you I can never die!” The great man concluded standing back to reveal himself in his restored splendour; his dirty old red coat now glimmering in a lustrous forest green, his white hair glowing like snow.

    Avonelle whimpered and looked around at the shapes starting to form in the shadows. She tried not to look at the other figure but he seemed to appear everywhere she looked eventually she could look away no more.

    “Do you see me now?!” The horrible visage asked in a braying raspy voice. The shambling figure had discarded any illusion of humanity to stand upon two goat legs with black curly horns and red scales, a true vision of hell.

    “Satan????” Avonelle asked horrified.

    “KRAMPUSSSS!!!” Came the reply with a flicker of a long snake-like tongue.

    “What are you going to do with me?” Avonelle asked, certain this was a nightmare but still trying to pull at her chains.

    “Punish-sh-ssh you!....” Krampus replied flexing his long talon-like fingernails.

    “….But not with pain brother” The Green coated figure interjected.

    “No pain?... Then how?...” Krampus asked.

    “I don’t know, but we do need to make her believe. However we must do it without pain or violence. If my power is to be restored the energy cannot be gathered that way” The Great big man replied.

    Do you s-s-s-still have the toy machine brother?” Krampus asked.

    “Ah yes the toy machine, from my later incarnations” The Jolly old man rumbled before adding; “It was to secure the children’s belief in me once the population grew and the question of elves….”

    “Mind s-s-s-scan!....” Krampus interjected.

    The shadows were taking on shape as Avonelle’s fear grew so did the shapes in the dark ethereal mist. Her two captors seemed to focus on a machine like a juke-box or candy machine, only there were conveyer belts, a TV screen and all sorts. Avonelle tried not to think of the toy machine from all those campy Christmas specials but her mind was drawn to them and slowly but surely the machine seemed to grow out of nothingness until the machine was complete with the turning red & white cylinders that looked like candy canes or how the North Pole was depicted for children. Somehow Avonelle knew that these turning meant that the machine was scanning her mind.
    Avonelle watched on the screen as every unkind act she had committed was played back for her captors to see. Interspersed between her cruelty, rudeness and thoughtlessness were a few childhood memories from the orphanage she had tried for years to block out. Avonelle was a successful model turned business-woman who had sworn to rid herself of all weakness to get ahead. A few college and university memories began to swirl into the mix, as part of her sorority initiation she had been tied to the bed and tickled. She tried to move her mind away from that terrible day and the sense of powerlessness she felt but it was too late. The big old man was laughing a booming Jolly laugh whilst the goat-demon was cackling wildly.

    “So out naughty business-girl is TIC-KLE-EISH!!!” Krampus taunted using his long talon like nails to tickle Avonelle’s underarms through her expensive red dress.

    “No please! Anything but that!” Avonelle begged as she started to giggle.

    “Brother what manner of toys and helpers can you prestidigitate to aid our efforts?” Krampus asked as he explored Avonelle’s writhing body.

    “Well I think I could just about manage some tinsel…” The jolly old man humbly offered.

    “Tinsel-s-s-s-snakes!... Tins-s-s-sel-worms!...” Krampus hissed his long snake tongue flickering around Avonelle’s ticklish neck.

    The old man held out his hands and concentrated, with a few sparkles and glimmers some tinsel began to take form from the swirling shadows. His brother cackled and exhaled heavily on the newly formed tinsel which writhed like a snake and multiplied, soon there were multiple snakes of gold, silver, green and red. Each with the head of a snake and an evil darting tongue. Avonelle couldn’t believe what she saw, her captors had complete control of the terrible prison in which she was trapped; ‘This must be a dream!’

    “Oh this is no dream! This is your nightmare!” Krampus teased reading his victim’s mind as he approached with the first of the tinsel snakes.

    “Only unlike a nightmare this is really happening, your sensitive skin will feel every ticklish touch.” The Jolly old man explained approaching with the rest of the snakes.

    The snakes were placed on Avonelle, some around her neck like a feather-boa others to explore under her dress. The sharp fronds of the tinsel tickled like a thousand feathers. The only small mercy were her sheer nylon which protected her legs and feet from the tinsel but enhanced the sharp talons of Krampus’ fingers. Avonelle screamed and wailed through a cacophony of helpless laughter.

    “Nooooo! Take the off! Haahaa haha haaha haahaa! Get them off! Haahaa haha haaha haahaa!”

    “Oh we will take away your nylons!” Krampus cackled, with a wave of his hand Avonelle’s legs were bare and her nylons neatly folded on the workbench next to her shoes.

    Now the tinsel snakes tickled her legs all the worse, they explored the backs of her outstretched knees and slithered between her toes. Animated by the seasonal spirit and by evil they wriggled over her sensitive skin and flickered their darting tongues between her toes and in her ears. Krampus continued to use his sharp talon-like fingertips whilst the jolly old man held her toes back occasionally using a rough fingertip on her sensitive arches. Avonelle screamed and kicked hating every touch and her feverish mind making shapes out of the shadows as her captors allowed. Slowly a rustic log cabin took shape with a hearth and a fire bearing stockings and socks full of toys. The colourful woollen socks did not have children’s names, instead they said things like; ‘Liar!’, ‘Cheat!’, ‘Gold-Digger!’ and ‘Harlot!’.

    Avonelle could scarcely take in all of these details but noticed the room around her take form. The toy machine was gone and nothing else really seemed fixed, it was almost as if the existence of things within her surrounds was fluid rather than solid; they could be there, and then not be there. The tickling was too much for Avonelle and she had passed her limit long ago. Even the snakes exploring her sensitive body were too much especially when they explored her toes. Some had taken to weaving themselves between her toes and pulling them back to the Jolly old man could use both hands, one on her taut arch and the other on the backs of her outstretched knees.

    “Haahaa haha haaha haahaa! No-more! Haa haa! Haahaa haha haaha haahaa! I need to be done! Haahaa haha haaha haahaa! I need a break! Haahaa haahaa! PLEASE!!!” Avonelle wailed.

    “We will give you a break in exchange for your clothes!” Krampus offered.

    “Haahaa haahaa! ANYTHING! Haahaa haahaa! JUST STOP!!!”

    “Not her underwear brother, save that for later” The Jolly old man interjected.

    With a wave of Krampus’ evil clawed hand Avonelle’s clothes joined her shoes and nylons on the workbench. She breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling humiliated and exhilarated as she was stretched out in her black lacy bra and panties. Avonelle was desperate for a respite and hated the continued administrations of the tinsel snakes. The reduction in torture allowed her to focus, the snakes were somehow more bearable now that they were just on her skin rather than under her clothes and yet still loathed their tickly touch. The workshop had taken shape as she had laughed and screamed, there was now a Christmas tree and decorations plus some windows through which she could see snow. It became harder and harder to not understand what held the chains in place and as she was offered a break to suffer the administrations of the snakes alone her captors discussed a solution to this meta-physical conundrum.

    “I am thinking we need a solid workbench!” The Jolly old man proposed about to suggest the one that bore their victim’s shoes and clothes.

    “I cannot stop thinking about little evil gingerbread men! Like in that film they made about me!” Krampus interjected.

    “Oh yes! Well I suppose we could…” The Jolly old man replied a little annoyed with his companion who seemed set to interrupt again, that film had truly gone to his head.

    “We shall, brother! I shall breathe life upon the figures you create and ye shall see that they are…. Evil!” Krampus cackled.

    In one corner appeared a huge oven, a female form a lot like the Jolly old man opened the oven to produce a baking tray full of steaming scented gingerbread men. Avonelle knew that the oven and what she guessed was “Mother-Christmas” had not been there a moment ago and guessed they would soon disappear into the delirious miasma. As he had with the tinsel Krampus breathed life onto the tray of gingerbread men and they came to life laughing and cackling like gremlins as they jumped from the tray onto chair and tables. This peculiar manifestation distracted Avonelle from what held her chains in place, and she watched as their evil faces changed into evil grins despite ever remaining painted on with icing, sprinkles and other confectionary to make their eyes mouths and noses.

    “I was thinking maybe one giant gingerbread to strap her down to!” Krampus suggested.

    The old man boomed his agreement and scrunched up his face concentrating to make the oven bigger. The ether swirled and the manifestation of Mother Christmas flickered in and out of existence as the oven seemed to come to life, the door turning into a great gaping maw and the windows into eyes. Krampus lent his strength and the oven seemed to grin a cruel grin before opening its mouth to extend a long tongue-like baking tray upon which and an enormous gingerbread man groaned and grumbled. It was huge, over six feet tall and longer once it spread its limps out into an X shape. Instead of icing there were what looked like liquorice imitating leather buckles protruding from the enormous gingerbread man.

    Avonelle gasped and struggled knowing with a deep inner sinking feeling that the huge table-like gingerbread man was her doom. Krampus cackled and began to gesture with his long talon in a clawing swirling motion causing Avonelle to spin. The workshop turned into a dizzy blur as the chains caused her to twist and spin like a hellish carousel ride. When she finally stopped spinning Avonelle found herself strapped tightly to the large recumbent gingerbread man. She screamed and struggled as the anthropomorphic table chuckled a deep rumbling laugh, clearly enjoying his new occupant. The liquorice straps held Avonelle’s wrists and ankles tightly at the end of each of the Gingerbread man’s limbs and there were more straps that held her legs and arms tightly in place at the thighs, shins and above and below her elbows. A wider belt-like strap held Avonelle’s upper body just above her tummy so her belly button was exposed. Most of the tinsel snakes had disappeared but one flickered its tongue inside her deep navel as it traced across her tummy whilst two more gave her toes the same treatment. All of her captors laughed at her struggles and the Jolly old man proposed;

    “I am thinking strawberry boot laces for her toes!”

    “Good idea Brother!” Krampus replied lending his power to transform the tinsel snakes.

    Avonelle screamed as she felt the thin tough cords bind each of her toes and pull them back, attaching to the liquorice straps somehow. Now her feet were completely helpless, the arches stretched taut the toes unable to wriggle. Her captors were closing in, including Mother Christmas and the many smaller gingerbread men who jumped from tables and chairs to surround her on the edges of their big brother. Eagerly they dug into her soft sensitive flesh using their strangely mobile and rough fingertips that distinguished them from their inanimate brethren enjoyed around the world at this time of year. ‘Why did they have to give them fingers?!’ Avonelle cursed as the horde of little torturers began to climb on top of her to gain access to her most sensitive spots. She could only move her head and looked down her body screaming at the little bastards each of which had between three or four tiny fingers but no thumbs.

    Worst of all Avonelle could see that both Mother and Father Christmas were positioning themselves at her feet. She screamed and struggled as they used both hands to tickle her arches. The old man’s fingertips were rough with textured ridges whilst his wife’s fingertips were smooth and supple from baking and taking care of household tasks, this she could feel through her sensitive soles. Avonelle’s screamed and tried to scrunch her toes but to no avail. Laughing heartily her captors replaced some of the tinsel snakes to torment her toes, plucking them from the rafters and decorations they had taken refuge amongst after being spun from their victim’s body. The evil snakes threaded themselves between her helpless toes tickling her with the multitude of shiny sparkly fronds that ran the length of their bodies, they would bend back to flicker their tongues under her sensitive toes loving that their restrained victim could no longer protect this: her most sensitive of spots.

    Avonelle threw her head back in helpless laughter denting the giant gingerbread man’s face just slightly. As her anthropomorphic host grumbled and moaned Krampus came into view leaning down and gesturing with his wicked talons. The giant Gingerbread man’s mouth tickled Avonelle’s neck; she didn’t know if his mouth was made of icing or some other confectionary but as he moaned and complained he gave her neck a ticklish gumming. Seeing this Krampus grinned and cackled;

    “I think we need some head restraints to stop you breaking poor Mungo’s nose!”

    Before Avonelle could wonder how many films the ancient evil spirit had enjoyed her host grew long flowing locks of liquorice like the bootlaces that held her toes only black instead of red. Some of the writhing fibres twisted and braided themselves into a cruel strap that tightly held her forehead strapping her down and holding head in the divot she had made. Other fronds began to explore her neck and ears making Avonelle scream in panic and rage. Worst of all the giant gingerbread man leant his head back exposing her sensitive throat as he continued to gum the back of his neck.

    “Ohhh! Maa! Ohm! Om! Om! Maa! Maa! Om! Nom! Nom! Nom!” The giant gingerbread man rumbled with satisfaction as he gummed away.

    “Ahhhh! Nooooo! Oh No! Oh No! Oh No! Ahhh! Haha! Haha! STOP IT!” Avonelle wailed as the giant stupid table tormented her neck.

    Avonelle absolutely hated having her neck nuzzled and there simply was no escape. Combined with the utter torture of her feet she was desperate for the torture to stop. Little did she know it had just begun! Krampus began tracing his long talon like fingers over her sensitive body exploring every helpless spot from her thighs to her underarms, occasionally squeezing her ribs cage or tummy to make her squeal. Her three main tormentors would also furnish the gingerbread men with gifts especially soft pastry brushes which they used to torment her underarms and the backs of her knees.

    At her feet Mother and Father Christmas inflicted a true masterclass of torture. Their fingertips danced almost knowing instinctively the best ways to tickle the soft supple taut flesh of Avonelle’s arches. The torture seemed to get worse and worse despite neither needing to learn new techniques. Some of the gingerbread men eagerly helped and were furnished with gifts of little toothbrushes and combs to torment the rest of Avonelle’s immobile feet. Some of the gingerbread scrubbed away at her heels and insteps with tiny little hairbrushes that seemed to have exactly as many evil bristles as a full size one. Others climbed upon Avonelle’s shins and ankles to run the little combs between her toes.

    “NOOOO! STOP THIS!!! Ahaha! Haha! Haha! PLEASE STOP THIS!!!!” Avonelle wailed to no avail.

    Krampus had found the sweet spot just above each of Avonelle’s hips and had pursed his long talons into a point and begun making tiny circles clockwise then clockwise as his victim screamed. To make matters worse The giant ginger bread man had taken to arching his back such that his four limps sloped down at a slightly obtuse angle, this stretched Avonelle out even further and exposed the terrible spot just above her hips.

    At her feet the two human-form ticklers had pulled a cracker to reveal all manner of tickle-toys for them and the gingerbread men to use. There were fake nails, electric toothbrushes and finger-toppers that came to life to add two tiny arms and a licking mouth the thumbs of The Jolly Man and his wife. Each found the finger-topper most effective when run up the sides of Avonelle’s feet so they could hit the sole and instep but they were effective on her arches as well. The Jolly old man boomed with laughter as he used the fake nails whilst the manifestation of his wife grew her nails longer to match. Avonelle screamed and wailed unable to take much more torture.

    “Ahaha! Haha! Haha! I need a break! Ahaha! Haha! Hahaha! I NEED A BREAK! Ahahaha! NO!!!! Ahaha! Haha! Haha!! PLEASE YOU HAVE TO STOP THIS!!!!” She wailed.

    “How about we give you a break in exchange for removing this!” Krampus replied tugging at her lacy bra.

    “Sounds reasonable, a fair exchange is no robbery!” The Jolly old man added.

    “You seem restored brother!” Krampus gleefully replied digging his bunched talons into the sweet spot just above Avonelle’s hips. He had found that making a star with each talon just a few millimetres away from the others was the most effective technique as he could vary the pressure and make any one talon the troublemakers for a short time before shifting focus to a new point to apply pressure with.

    Avonelle tried to protest but the torture was too much for her to endure. The talons had taken on a bluntness that allowed them to probe the terrible spot that connected directly to the ‘panic and thrash’ part of her brain, only it was impossible to thrash so she simply panicked;


    There was a sudden rush of silence as the torture stopped broken only by Avonelle sighing and moaning as her senses were freed of the terrible tickling sensations that had flooded every nerve and brain cell with the irrevocable message to flee. Avonelle flexed and curled her fingers that were the only part of her body that could move apart from her eyes and lips. With a glance Krampus brought more of the terrible strawberry bootlaces into life and the struggling blonde whimpered as the thin cords wrapped around each finger binding all ten elegantly to the huge fingerless palm of the gingerbread man upon which she lay. Having her fingers tied down made Avonelle feel vulnerable; she did not notice that her head had been freed as there was no release of the buckles only one moment her brow was strapped down the next it wasn’t, like in a dream.

    “I would say I am restored brother!” The Jolly man announced, adding; “I feel the old magic again! I have the power to help others again! And all thanks to punishing this wicked harlot! I even think I could even manage to create some with your help!”

    Avonelle whimpered as the pair brought tiny little elfin creatures out of the shadows and gloom. They seemed less fixed than the gingerbread men and no two seemed to look alike, one moment they would be jolly creatures in colourful clothes and curly-toed shoes; the next they were dark, wide-eyed creatures with grey skin and something terribly insect-like in their movements.

    “Seize her bra!” Krampus ordered.

    With their clever little hands the elves grabbed Avonelle’s bra fumbling with the catches behind her back. The giant gingerbread man helped by lifting his limbs to allow their swift hands to dart between his belly and Avonelle’s back. The second the catches came loose the bra was off and carried away like a trophy. Avonelle panted in humiliation as the cold air fondled her pert breasts that rose and fell with each terrified breath. Her nipples hardened with cold and she suddenly realised they would probably be tickled and tortured now that they were bare, that much was apparent from the way the goat-demon thing was leering at her.

    “Now during your little break my dear perhaps you can fill us in on why you are here?” The Jolly old man rumbled in his deep voice.

    Looking up Avonelle saw that he was eating a mince pie and it was his wife’s lips moved.

    “Because I’m fucking hallucinating! Your lips aren’t even moving hers are!” She screamed angrily.

    “Don’t be silly! She is simply an extension of my psyche dating back to the time I spent in female form to learn all magic” Mother Christmas answered still in her so-called husband’s voice.’

    “All Magic! What! There’s No magic! Magic’s not real!!!” Avonelle retorted.

    “You know a wise man once said: Those who do not believe in magic shall never find it…” The Jolly old man answered having finished his mince pie before adding;

    “You are quite unfortunate my dear; magic has found you!”

    “Please! You have to take me off this fucking thing! No more tickling me!” Avonelle begged.

    “And why don’t you like being tickled?” The Jolly old man asked.

    “Because it’s fucking torture!” Avonelle snapped.

    “Because you are not in control!” The Jolly old man answered.

    “I think her break is over!” Krampus interjected with a flicker of his long serpent tongue.

    “No! Please you can’t tickle me again!” Avonelle begged, desperately looking from side to side as her captors circled in.

    With a click of his long fingers Krampus brought the head restraints back into existence and it was only then Avonelle realised she had been free to look around during her break. The elves were the first to tickle being keen to join in the fun. They had small hands that simultaneous felt like soft plump fingertips and terrible animal claws due to the variable nature of their existence. They mostly focused on Avonelle’s underarms, thigh and knees but roamed all over her ticklish body. Mother and Father Christmas meanwhile took over Krampus’ former position each using one hand to tickle the sweet spot just above Avonelle’s hips and the other to tickle her ribs and sides.

    “Noooooo! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU FUCKING FREAKS!!!!” Avonelle wailed as she returned to tickle hell.

    Krampus took over tickling Avonelle’s feet and used his long talons to deadly effect. The elves joined in snatching up the tools the gingerbread men had left discarded. With the introduction of the elves there seemed to be fewer of the little gingerbread men; but they still tortured every inch of Avonelle from head to toe and enjoying tickling the restrained palms of her hands which could no longer grab and crumble them out of existence thanks to the new restraints.

    Avonelle’s torturers had a clear pecking order; Krampus and ‘The Klauses’ were at the top of the pecking order with the elves underneath and finally the gingerbread men scurried around at the bottom of the great tickling chain just above Avonelle upon who’s flesh they skittered and crawled. This pecking order was firmly established when one of the gingerbread men started playing around with the elastic of Avonelle’s knickers.

    “Not yet little man!” The Jolly old man boomed, scooping up the gingerbread man in the hand he had been using to tickle Avonelle’s ribs.

    Mother Christmas continued to tickle the sweet spot just above Avonelle’s hips as her husband munched down the doomed gingerbread man. To Avonelle’s horror the little figure cried out and screamed in pain as he was munched down feet first. A few seconds earlier it had been tickling her thighs with its terrible rough fingers now it was disappearing with several quick bites and a look of fear upon its icing and caramel face. A few seconds later The Jolly old man was washing it down with a glass of milk.

    “Oh my God! What the Fucking Fuck!.... Haha haha! Why did you create it to feel pain? Hahahaha!.... JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!” Avonelle screamed trying to escape the terrible gingerbread table that nuzzled her neck.

    “Do you think we could rack her?” Krampus asked.

    “Muuuuu-ungo RACK!!!!! The giant gingerbread man answered stretching his limps out such that the restraints pulled on Avonelle’s limbs.

    “No don’t!” Avonelle screamed as she felt herself being stretched out, there was no pain but she felt even more helpless as the tiny fingers and brushes tickled every spot of flesh.

    The elves had found that Avonelle’s feet were the most sensitive but also enjoyed tickling and playing with her breasts. Avonelle’s nipples were now rock hard from being pinched and played with and stood proudly to attention a dark shade of throbbing pink. Avonelle could feel her arousal growing underneath the frantic panic of tickle torture and dreaded climaxing for these freaks. She knew she could orgasm just from having her nipples played with and these elves’ tiny hands knew what they were doing. Little did she know that part of her torture would be never being allowed to climax, as a result of their long exile both of her captors took a particular delight in ‘denying heaven’ as well as inflicting hellish torture.

    “I think we are missing something dear brother!” The Jolly old man declared.

    “What brother?” Krampus asked.

    “Reindeer! I always flew with eight or nine reindeer!” He answered his voice booming and resounding with joy a vitality.

    “Reindeer tonguessss to lick her s-s-s-solessss!...” Krampus suggested with a wicked cackle.

    “Well I’m sure we could manage to bring two into existence within this hammer-space brother!”

    Avonelle tried to protest but was lost to the agony of silent laughter. It was the second time she had heard the word ‘hammer-space’ and through her hysteria she tried to work out what it meant. The fact she didn’t know worried her as her captors using terms she didn’t understand somehow undermined her only hope that this was all a dream and they were just figments of her imagination. A memory popped into her mind of a cartoon rabbit, probably Bugs Bunny pulling hammers out of nowhere to whack the hunter or another cartoon character. This memory was cut short as two evil-looking reindeer appeared at her soles, out of nowhere.

    Their tongues were like nothing Avonelle had ever felt before, they were so rough and raspy her arches exploded with the ticklish sensations taking her through the silent laughter into a screaming rage of fury. Her captors just laughed and resumed torturing her, surrounding her on all sides and cruelly digging into to the delicious meal of ticklish mortal. Avonelle screamed and struggled remembering a Kitten that liked to do this to her toes, the reindeers tongues were a thousand times worse. They were broad and flat and lapped perfectly at her arches which had been covering in some sort of goo. Every now and then though the reindeer would dart narrow forked serpent’s tongues between her toes instead; flickering and hissing, the undeniable consequence of Krampus’ contribution to their creation.

    As Avonelle thrashed and screamed she thought of the kitten. It had been cute at first but then it got annoying and it always wanted feeding or made a mess on her carpet so Avonelle had simply abandoned it. She had just scooped it up carried it away and left it meowing pathetically in the cold half way through January, lost and alone in and uncaring city. She hadn’t thought about this cruel act once since committing it but had seen the kitten on the screen of the toy machine, and unlike the dog she had abandoned earlier that day she had not been shown its rescue or what became of it. For the first time in a long while Avonelle felt empathy and remorse, she was like that kitten now; lost, alone and unsure.

    “I think this is working wonderfully, I feel better than ever!” The Jolly man’s voice boomed.

    “I am glad brother, it is good to work with you again!” Krampus replied with a hissing voice.

    “I think I could even perform a few random acts of kindness in the real world, deliver surprise gifts to orphans or save abandoned animals in a few days’ time all whilst disguised as that red-coated BASTARD!!!!” The Giant man bellowed.

    “Careful brother! It feels good now but outside of the hammer space your power won’t last! You need to rebuild your power from belief slowly, it might be unwise to…” Krampus began still torturing Avonelle as he chided the Jolly man who roared and interruption;

    “Do not speak to me of wisdom brother!!!! I hung upon the tree of life for nine days and sacrificed an eye to gain wisdom, I am the one who lasted for centuries as an adaptive vision of kindness whilst the church chained and banished you to near oblivion, I remember when you were all but a Djinn swirling on the wind...”

    The great man’s booming voice caused all the apparitions of torture to stop tickling and look up, even the reindeer stopped licking at Avonelle’s soles to sniff and exhale ait onto her toes that flinched against the toe-ties.

    “We should not fight brother! We have grown s-s-strong together, go if you will… But take care. And before you depart please help me create one of those thingssss, with the coal with the buttons and the s-s-sticks…. And the carrot for a nose! They were always yours and never mine!” Krampus replied calming his brother.

    “Do you mean a snowman brother?” The Jolly old man replied, the rage gone from his countenance.

    “Ah yesssss!” Kranpus confirmed his tongue hissing; “A s-sss..snow-maaaaan!”

    Avonelle wailed as the tickling resumed and a new torturer was brought into existence. A mound of ice and snow was rolled up out of the ether and sat heavily on her crotch cooling her smouldering libido which had been awoken by the nipple torture. Components were revived from memory and decided upon, the snowman was absolute and fixed within the unreal reality of her tickle-hell; Good and evil sat side by side and did not jostle for position as they did with the elves. The snowman was made of three balls of snow topped by an old, battered silk hat. His eyes were of dark coal in which there was no mercy and smaller smears of coal marked a wicked smile. The carrot that was his nose was long, firm and orange and offset the cruelty of his grin with its bright healthy jollity. Unlike every other snowman Avonelle had ever seen he had a crooked back. Each of the three balls of snow that made up his body overhung so that he loomed over Avonelle’s torso. From his position upon her crotch he extended two long evil branches bearing twig hands reaching for her belly.

    “No!!! I don’t like it get it away!” Avonelle cried as the evil hands reached for her sides zeroing in on ‘the sweet spot’ her other captors had so cruelly exploited.

    “We may have created the perfect tickling machine, sh-sh-sh-shame he will melt away to nothing in a few hoursss!...” Krampus cackled his serpent tongue hissing.

    Avonelle wailed as the cruel twig hands dug in, skittering and poking with expert knowledge given to the snowman by his psychic and experienced creators. The palms of his twig hands rested on her sweet spots and seemed to poke and vibrate a stubby blunt branch into the perfect spot. The rest of his twig fingers skittered about and roamed unnaturally over her belly and sides, feeling both like and un-like the sweet torture she had already endured only worse. The elves continued to torment her nipples and Avonelle could feel her libido fighting against the cold of the snowman’s body.

    At her feet the reindeer had disappeared, her captors could not maintain so many horrific visages of torment. In their place The Klauses’ took up stiff scrubbing brushing to clean Avonelle’s soles. Avonelle could not see past the snowman and did not know where the hot soapy water was coming from but screamed as the stiff bristled brushes moved the suds around. The sensations were terrible, the brushes scrubbed at her deep sensitive arches and ran over her ticklish heels and the balls of her feet. Some the elves used toothbrushes to tickle her captive toes, getting the sensitive spots under each toe stem and in between as well as scrubbing the ticklish tips of poor Avonelle’s long toes.

    As her feet were scrubbed they seemed to get more and more ticklish. There was no escape from the cruel brushes and to make matters worse Mother Christmas had brought the elves some Christmas presents from the stockings that hung by the fire. With eager hands they elves unwrapped electric toothbrushes and flossers from within parcels of bright, shiny paper. The new tickle-toys were specially made for their little hands and pushed Avonelle to a new zenith of ticklish agony as they clicked on and explored her toes buzzing like bees beyond her sight.

    “Hahaha! No!!!! What is that!!!! Hahaha! STOP IT!!!!! Hahaha!” She wailed as her helpless soles were scrubbed expertly by the spinning brushes, the soapy suds making it a thousand times worse.

    The ticklish agony at her soles was counterpointed by the withheld ecstasy within her loins. Avonelle could feel lustful fires being quashed by the cold of the snowman’s mere presence upon her crotch. As the elves tormented her nipples her desire to climax grew stronger and stronger. The Snowman tickled her terribly with his twig arms, focusing on the sweet spot with the strange nubs in his palms whilst exploring her Tummy and ribs with his terrible grasping branch fingers. The elves and the gingerbread men eagerly tickled around the animated twigs, the elves in particular focusing on her nipples.

    As Avonelle’s libido grew stronger the snowman melted slowly causing the cold water to trickle slowly down her thighs in an infuriatingly ticklish manner. As the snowman melted his carrot nose got closer and closer to Avonelle as he continued to tickle her mercilessly. The snowman would pulse her sweet spot rhythmically with the blunt stubby nubs causing both panic and arousal as his orange phallic nose got closer and closer to Avonelle. Eventually Avonelle lost her mind and screamed;


    “Such language from a lady!” Came the reply from her feet which were still be scrubbed mercilessly.

    Avonelle’s torture persisted as the snowman slowly melted, dripping cold water onto Avonelle’s steaming hot body in a manner that infuriated her. Eventually his carrot nose explored her belly button in a terrible thrusting motion that did not satisfy Avonelle’s carnal desires. All of her captors laughed as the carrot was added to her torment, the two brothers mocked her in unison;

    “We control you now human! We are the carrot and the stick! You are a stupid pathetic human who cannot tell the difference between a carrot and a stick!”

    Avonelle screamed in a silent rictus of laughter. The sensations merged and swirled each leaving a unique impression upon her psyche like fresh footprint in pure white snow, before receding into a haze of torment such that she could not tell one torturous ticklish touch from another. As Avonelle was sure she could endure no more agony or ecstasy Krampus clicked his fingers causing the snowman to melt in a rush of meltwater leaving the carrot, coal and twig to clatter onto the floor. Avonelle moaned and writhed the final assault of the snowman feeling like a bucket of ice water thrown onto her smouldering body. As she was given a brief respite Krampus paced around her leering and swirling his long forked tail.

    “Is it over! Are you going to stop?!” Avonelle asked.

    “I shall be going soon” The Jolly man answered before adding; “But before I do Avonelle, I want you to look at the fire.”

    Avonelle lifted her head unaware of the disappearance of her head restraints and terrified of what was going to happen next. The Klauses stood to either side of her so she could see the fire place behind them.

    “Do you see the fire Avonelle? Do you feel its heat on your soles?” They both asked in unison.

    “Oh my God! Are you going to burn me! How are you doing this?!” Avonelle screamed, the fire was several yards away but she could the feel the warmth of its flame drying her soles as if it was up close.

    “There will be no pain, feel the warmth of the flames drying your soles and roasting them to a perfect pink sensitivity” The Klauses intoned in unison.

    “Noooo! I don’t need to be any more ticklish!!!!!” Avonelle screamed feeling her tormentors’ words come true as her feet felt the flames roast them to new heights of ultra-sensitivity.

    Krampus laughed; “Ultra-sensitive and never allowed the sweet release of ecstasy you crave!”

    “What?! Wh…” Avonelle whimpered, knowing instinctively that the cold that had fought her libido was somehow still inside her making sure she would never orgasm again.

    “But before we go! Let us test these new feet of yours!” The Jolly old man added running a rough finger up Avonelle’s arch.

    “Nooo!!! Hahaha! Hahaha!” Avonelle screamed her concerns about orgasm denial pushed from her mind by the terrible ticklish sensations that felt more intense than ever before.

    Mother Christmas joined in as did the Elves and the gingerbread men. Everyone wanted a turn tickling the pink and clean, freshly roasted; most ticklish feet in all creation. All other torture stopped for Avonelle to truly experience how much more ticklish she now was on her feet. The giant gingerbread man would sometimes still nom on her neck or use his hair to tickle her face but other than that all that existed for Avonelle were the terrible touches on her ultra-ticklish soles. Every tickle toy and tool had to be used again including some new ones like little spiky wheels that prickled and spun terrible paths up and down her soles. The torture seemed to last forever until the Jolly old man decided to introduce a new game.

    “I tell you what!... When she breaks the gingerbread man she is strapped to, then I shall depart and leave her in your care brother!”

    Avonelle suddenly realised she might be able to break free as the gingerbread man was damp from where the snowman had melted. This should have been the case since the snowman melted but was only true now because her captors wanted it to be.

    “When she breakssss Mungo I will remove her panties! I want to unwrap her under the Christmas tree!” Krampus replied.

    “Very well brother, but no pain!” The Jolly old man replied.

    “Oh but I want to slap her soles with a switch of birch! I want to hang baubles from her aching….” Krampus protested.

    “I don’t want to hear about it brother! Do as you must to restore yourself but I do not condone pain and I don’t want her broken when I get back!” The Jolly old man interrupted.

    Avonelle was hysterical from the torture and the prospect of being left alone with the Krampus – goat -…. thing. Tears ran down her face as she descended into silent laughter as Krampus took his turn at her feet using his long sharp terrible talons as well as his tail. Avonelle knew if she thrashed she would break the giant gingerbread man but only because her captors had made it that way. She was starting learn how this place worked; if they wanted something to torture her, it appeared. If it needed to be gone, it would disappear.

    As much as the torture of her sensitive feet was beyond anything she had experienced so far the prospect of being ‘unwrapped under the Christmas tree’ by Krampus was worse. Avonelle struggled to resist thrashing instinctively as Krampus returned to torment her upper body leaving her soles to the Klauses and their little helpers. With every spot getting tickled again was impossible for Avonelle to resist. As she thrashed she felt the gingerbread man break with a titanic cry of pain that felt as though the earth itself was groaning. And then she was falling. As Avonelle fell she saw trees around her; instinctive memories of missing a branch and falling from the canopy came to her from deep within her ancestral memories.

    And then suddenly she was caught. Avonelle looked around to see that the giant gingerbread man was gone and she was lying on the floor of a forest with her arms tied and the wrists and elbows around a great fir tree whose branch spread out above her. Her legs were extended above her and tied above and below the ankles to a low branch. Avonelle struggled but she could not move. Somehow her toes were still tied tightly back and frantically she looked around to see Krampus leering at her with just a handful of the elves which were now the dark wide-eyed alien insects without a hint of the ‘Jolly’s little helpers’ that had previously vied for their finished form.

    “No please! No more tickling! I will do anything! Just let me go!” Avonelle begged.

    Krampus cackled: “Lotssss more tickling! Lotsss more torture!”

    Avonelle screamed as her torturers approached, her position did not allow her to move at all apart from thrash her head from side to side and try and bite the elves who tickled her breasts and sides. Krampus used his long talons to tickle her upturned soles. Avonelle screamed and tried to struggle but it was hopeless, her soles were still as sensitive as ever and could not move even a millimetre such was her strict unseen bondage. Worst of all Krampus could bring insects, worms and snakes into existence to crawl over her naked skin. The millipedes were worst of all skittering their myriad of little legs down the backs of her knees, but Avonelle loathed every beetle, bug and creepy crawly that tickled and tormented her.

    Avonelle varied between screaming in rage and pleading for mercy through desperate laughter. The torture seemed to last an eternity and she never passed out or got tired, her stomach muscles never seemed to succumb to the painful stitch that her instincts told her were just around the corner. With what felt was the last of her energy she cried out;


    Krampus cackled: “Fuck you!... You were begging for that earlier! A church to wors-sssh-sshh-ship me sounds interesting! But for now I will be sss-sa-satisfied with making you s-s-su...suffer!”

    “PLEASE I WILL DO ANYTHING!!!!” Avonelle screamed.

    “Will you kneel before me?” Krampus asked, clicking his fingers to compose a new bondage position within the hammer space of his secret pocket of reality.

    The second Krampus clicked his fingers Avonelle was kneeling beneath a Christmas tree back in the log cabin her ankles tied behind its trunk and her arms tied to two branches that held her in a Y-shape. Her head whirled as she took in her new surroundings, there were tinsel snakes writhing around the tree along with an assortment of other decorations. Again her toes were tied somehow but she could not twist round to see her feet. Suddenly she realised her panties were gone as the warm air caressed her undercarriage.

    Krampus cackled: “I see the carpet doesn’t match the drapessss! Perhaps it would please me to torture you au naturelle!”

    With another click of his fingers Avonelle’s long blonde hair was restored to its natural chestnut brown. With a gasp of fear she beheld her hair blow as it blew into her face. Seeing the fear on his victim’s face Krampus cackled and clicked his fingers again, adding;

    “Or perhaps how your kind’s hair was when my brother and I were cast down from heaven onto this cursed rock!”

    With a start Avonelle realised her entire body was covered in thick brown hair like that of an ape. She was still human form but every follicle, even those that previously bore only short fine translucent hairs that were microscopic in size now flourished with thick dark hair. She screamed at her captor’s complete control over this nightmarish existence. It was a primal howl that shook the forest she had been returned to, louder and more full of horror than the most terrible scream anyone had cried out with when waking from the darkest nightmares.

    Krampus clicked his fingers again returning Avonelle to the workshop with just her chestnut brown head hair and shaven pussy:

    “I like you bessst thisss way!” He leered as he approached.

    Avonelle was terrified, her rollercoaster ride to the stone-age and back had left her disoriented and she trembled as Krampus lent under the canopy to leer at her smouldering pussy. His hands were different; gone were the terrible talons, replaced by strong fingers instead. The new hands held fine paint brushes for Avonelle to see she squirmed as something tickled her captive soles and a tinsel snake slithered over her neck. She already knew her tormentor would have a new freshly exposed target, the only part of her more sensitive than her nipples and feet. Krampus leered and whispered;

    “Pusss-sssy! Ticklessss!” his tongue flickering and horrible throating raspy laughter filling the air as he lowered the brushes.

    “Oh my God! Please No!!!” Avonelle begged as she struggled against her nightmarish bondage.

    “Yessss… and you will never orgassss…smmm!” Krampus answered her cruelly.

    The soft fine brushes started in small circles right where Avonelle’s thighs met her taint. Krampus made tiny expert circles over her undercarriage teasing the soft sensitive skin getting ever closer to her smouldering pussy. It was a cruel dance, Avonelle writhed and squirmed unable to stand the delicate touch of the brushes but secretly wanting them to make contact with her clit. Krampus hissed and tickled her neck with his tongue. The tinsel snakes writhed across her as she struggled, running from her neck over her shoulders and into her underarms. There were gingerbread men or elves tickling her feet, she wasn’t sure. Avonelle couldn’t even work out where she was; sometimes she was in the woods, sometimes under a tree in the workshop. It seemed to vary with her captor’s mood.

    Somehow Krampus could tickle her with his hands whilst still using the brushes to deadly effect. As Avonelle glanced down in panic she saw that Krampus now had four arms; two tickling her sides and two using the brushes which got closer and close but never touched her clit. Finally Avonelle was broken.

    “Hahaha! Please! Hahaha! PLEASE TICKLE MY CLIT!!!! Hahaha! HAHAHA! HAHAHA!” She screamed through desperate laughter.

    Krampus cackled and obeyed her command watching the look of absolute horror on her face when the brushes made contact and the orgasm wouldn’t come. He nuzzled her neck and mocked her as she continue to beg for the climax she crave, and for the torture to stop and for her to ‘wake up’.

    “This is your wake-up call human! This is to wake you up from the error of your ways!!”

    “I have something from the error of her ways here!” A familiar voice boomed.

    The Jolly old man had returned and loomed into view holding a kitten, her kitten the one she abandoned last year or the year before. As recognition flooded Avonelle’s eyes she lacked the strength to ask how this could be. Krampus was also concerned.

    “Time travel brother?” his raspy voice hissed.

    “Well I bended time a little, always had to... Only way to deliver all those presents in one night!” The Jolly man replied.

    “Still you s-s-s-should be careful brother, do not over exert yours-s-self!” Krampus chided.

    “Oh pish! Its future was not shown on the toy machine because I rescued it, and because I always rescued it! I saw it on that screen licking this ones feet before she kicked the poor thing… perhaps it could lick now without interruption.” The Jolly old man concluded.

    Krampus hissed with approval and before long the cat was happily licking Avonelle’s soles and toes. With the Jolly old man gone again her torture became more and more extreme. The tickling got more intense as Krampus grew more arms. The orgasm denial was unbearable too and Avonelle could find no words to beg and screamed a primal scream of expectant arousal that was never to be satisfied.

    “Yessss!!! How does it feel to be denied heaven human!!!”

    With a lustful glee to his word Krampus clipped some Christmas lights to Avonelle’s nipples with cruelly tight bulldog clips. The cruel clips to shocked her just slightly as they drew an electro-chemical charge from her suffering body to power the lights. Krampus used two of his new arms to hang baubles from the stream of lights tugging tighter and tighter on Avonelle’s engorged nipples. Avonelle screamed as each new weight was added. Her torment became a blur, it always seemed to be getting worse somehow but at every point she felt as if she was at the limit of her endurance. She was returned at times to her original bondage position with her legs in the air but somehow still seemed to suffer the nipple torture, only with gravity partially in reverse.

    She was truly subject to Krampus’ cruel whims. True to his word at one point he followed through on his promise of slapping her soles with a switch of birch explaining how this would make her even more sensitive than the foot-roasting. The pain came almost as relief to Avonelle as it broke the unbearable tickle-torture that had become a monotonous but unpredictable hell.

    In her nightmares afterwards Avonelle remembered the Jolly old man returning and her torture continuing but it was at this point her mind lost any ability to place her ordeal into any logical time frame. In truth she was tortured outside of time, and time itself became a burden to her torturers who abandoned it to tickle her for an eternity. Even after returning her physical form they could still enjoy the delights of driving her insane within their hammer space.

    And drive her insane they would, they drove her through madness and out the other side until she woke up a changed woman. Avonelle was changed both physically and emotionally. She awoke in hospital wearing her nylons and expensive dress, her red shoes were on a table she noticed as the room came blearily into focus.

    “Ah sleeping beauty awakes” A Jolly nurse announced.

    “Where am I?” Avonelle asked.

    “Hospital darling, toxicology shows some alcohol positioning combined with systemic shock from those lovely tattoos you got yourself!” The cheerful nurse announced.

    “Tattoos?” Avonelle asked, narrowing her eyes and trying to work out where she had seen this chubby nurse before and what tattoos she was talking about.

    “Yes not a good idea to drink so much and then get tattooed, they are pretty enough but we think the artist gave you something nasty through his tattoo gun or needles, you had quiet the fever my dear!”

    Avonelle followed the nurse’s gaze to the soles of her feet, with a sudden desperate lung she grabbed her own ankle and bent her leg to look at the sole of her foot through the sheer fabric of her nylons. Her eyes widened in horror. There was a red and green tattoo on the sole of her foot. Avonelle tried to stretch out the fabric of her nylons to see it clearer and descended into helpless laughter at even the fabric moving against her freshly tattooed skin.

    “Seems they have had the desired effect! Anyway I am off on my rounds!” The nurse concluded turning on her heel.

    Suddenly Avonelle realised where she had seen the nurse before, she looked exactly like Mother Christmas from her nightmare. Avonelle jumped out of bed to chase her down the corridor but descended into helpless laughter the second her feet touched the floor. Frantically she collapsed into the chair by her bedside. Avonelle had to tear her nylons off at the ankle to get a proper look at her tattoo. The tattoo was a Christmassy motif of a wreath with red ribbons and little bells. It bore the words;

    ‘Merry Christmas! May laughter be yours all year round!’ As Avonelle’s eyes focused the design came to life with little details, the evil little gingerbread men from nightmare were there along with the tinsel snakes, she even noticed some impossibly small print that somehow she could read:

    ‘Your feet are now hundred times more ticklish forever and a hundred more under these tattoos, may you never place your feet fully on the ground without remembering us!’

    Avonelle’s mind raced: ‘So it hadn’t all just been a dream!’ She sulked on the bed before being discharged. She was too ticklish to walk now and even her high, deep arches didn’t save her. Her stocking-clad left foot was worse than the right as any shift would cause the sheer fabric to move just slightly tickling her terribly. As much as she cherished the protection the nylons gave her, she had no choice but to tear them off at the left ankle too revealing the second tattoo of a Christmas tree. Underneath it was a beautifully packaged parcel, its gift tag reading;

    ‘Oh and you still will never get the release you seek, there is a little present under your tree to prove it!’

    Avonelle didn’t know how she could read the tiny letters she just could. She would find the tattoos would change to mock her, she had to keep them secret not just out of embarrassment but because when seen by anyone they would be encouraged psychically to tickle her; reading the words ‘tickle me’ or ‘very ticklish’ and feeling compelled to obey. Worst of all she couldn’t walk, even her beloved red high heels made contact just slightly at the arch were the tattoos were. In order to escape the hospital she had to steal a wheelchair, she later found out that there was no record of her ever being admitted. She got a taxi home and smiled as the handsome taxi driver strapped her in using the special straps. He wished her a merry Christmas as she perched her heels on the backs of her red shoes, treading down the backs to her utter dismay. The handsome Taxi driver helped her into the lift and even opened her door for her, wishing her a merry Christmas once more. He had been a young man before but as he winked she saw his eyes and it was the Jolly fat man from her nightmare! Avonelle was in shock but before she could react he was gone; he hadn’t gone back to the lift, he had just vanished.

    The wheelchair wouldn’t fit through her door so she had to crawl on her hands and knees, folding the wheelchair in half and awkwardly bringing it inside to avoid being caught of her first crime since her ordeal. The wheelchair would disappear later, she never found out how but missed it as it was the only way for her to move around her apartment without crawling. Using her laptop she ordered another and some special shoes that only made contact with her heels, toes and the balls of her feet. Avonelle found them through a fetish site after extensive searching, she shuddered at the reminders alongside them of her ordeal but had suffered far worse. With her knew shoes arrival she was able to walk again but she was never the same.

    Avonelle tried to make up for her past sins, making a list and using her ill-gotten gains and business acumen to fund her reparations to society. She felt better as a result of this but the tattoos remained, as did her other curse. True to the promise of the words she had read underneath her Christmas tree was a suspicious package, it was long and thin and Avonelle knew what it was before un-wrapping it. The label read;

    “From Krampus” in swirling elegant letters.

    The label and wrapping paper would later disappear, Avonelle could have sworn afterwards that the wrapping paper had been covered with tiny pictures of gingerbread men and elves holding feathers and other tickle-tools. Their disappearance only confirmed what she suspected and what she found to be true putting the vibrator to use alongside her own;

    Avonelle could never, ever orgasm again.

    Her arousal had not been stolen and after each night of dreaming about her horrific ordeal she would awake with turgid rock hard nipples and a desire to be fucked hard. No amount of vibrator use or secreting the love-egg she bought online would suffice and she remained frustrated and unsatisfied haunted by nightmares of hellish tickle-torture.

    Avonelle had been denied heaven…. forever.

  2. #2
    Join Date
    May 2005
    Excellent story

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Jul 2005
    Truly amazing, so perverse and imaginative, you really should do this more. Your writing really shines when you really let your imagination go wild, i really hope you like more fantasy/horror stories like this again.

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Jul 2012
    Blog Entries
    Quote Originally Posted by player 0 View Post
    Truly amazing, so perverse and imaginative, you really should do this more. Your writing really shines when you really let your imagination go wild, i really hope you like more fantasy/horror stories like this again.
    Thanks :-) I do actually have an idea for a similiar story ...

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Jul 2005
    Quote Originally Posted by Viewmaster View Post
    Thanks :-) I do actually have an idea for a similiar story ...
    Oh please do tell, I hope you go for it

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Jul 2012
    Blog Entries
    Quote Originally Posted by player 0 View Post
    Oh please do tell, I hope you go for it
    Similiar horror ticklers, a magician and his assistant. Got a different take on the magician's box tickling trope

  7. #7
    Join Date
    Jul 2005
    Quote Originally Posted by Viewmaster View Post
    Similiar horror ticklers, a magician and his assistant. Got a different take on the magician's box tickling trope
    Sound awesome, would love to see it

  8. #8
    Join Date
    Jul 2012
    Blog Entries
    Quote Originally Posted by player 0 View Post
    Sound awesome, would love to see it
    Here is the link in case you miss it

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