Hello,
First, a little back-story. I was recently approached by a member of the forum (who would like to remain anonymous) and asked to complete a saga that ran on the TMF from 2001 to 2006, by TickleWizard AKA TextbookTickler. I asked the opinion of the TMF moderators and they saw no issue with me completing the story.
I have no idea as to what TextbookTickler would have wanted the conclusion to this epic to be, but I put some thought into it and I very much hope, wherever he is now, he would be happy with my interpretation.
Here are the original nine chapters
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 1
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 2
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 3
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 4
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 5
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 6
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 7
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 8
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 9
The conclusion was only supposed to be one more chapter, but in keeping with the chapters that have preceded it, I have written three more (edit: it was originally 11, but in exploring the story further, it's now 12!).
So, for the fans of this story, and the superfan who requested it, here is...
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Part 10
by Tamira K.
based on characters originally created by TextbookTickler
Jo stirred. With her eyes still closed, she felt as though she had been in the middle of a very hot dream, but couldn’t recall what it was. She opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the silken canopy of a lavish four-poster bed. This wasn’t her bed... In a flash she recalled exactly where she was and knew why lying in the middle of a four-poster bed spelt trouble.
A smiling Tara stepped into view and looked down at her. Jo reacted with exaggerated physicality, swinging both fists into thin air.
Tara gently leaned back and contained her amusement. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
Jo then took the time to look around. ‘I thought you’d tied me down.’
‘No.’ Tara replied, ‘This is a consensual competition.’
‘You electrocuted me, you bitch!’
‘I stopped you from assaulting my boss.’
‘I wasn’t assaulting her! She told me to tie her up.’
‘She also told you the rules: five minutes and no more. You lost control and very intentionally went past that.’
Jo sat up. She didn’t like being told off by anyone but especially by a “professional ticklee”. ‘Whatever,’ she said as she stood up. ‘Touch me again and I’ll floor you. How long have I been asleep?’
Tara maintained a serene smile, ‘Quite some time, actually. Five minutes of action must’ve taken it out of you.’
Jo threw her a bitter look. ‘I’m warning you…’
‘Are you? Do you think that’s a good idea?’
Jo looked away in frustration. ‘What’s happening now? When do I get my next turn?’
‘The contest is continuing. If your number comes up again, I will come and get you. In the meantime, Carol has laid on some dinner for you.’ Tara indicated a trolley with a silver cloche and dessert on it. ‘Of course, you are welcome to leave.’
‘Not a chance,’ said Jo, sitting down at the meal. ‘I’m here for the long-haul.’
‘As you wish,’ said Tara and opened the door to leave the room. As she did, Jo could hear the distant sound of Rachel’s laughter echoing through the corridors and cursed the fact that she might not get another chance to break her.
Tara strolled down the corridor, knocked on Carol’s office door and entered. Carol sat with her long legs outstretched, feet up and sipping a cup of tea. Her face was illuminated by a wall of screens that covered every conceivable angle of the action taking place in the torture room. Rachel was on the St. Andrew’s Cross for the fifth time during her ordeal and four more enthusiastic ticklers were frantically exploiting every vulnerable part of her torso in an attempt to break her.
‘Not long to go now…’ said Carol, without looking up.
‘Yes,’ said Tara as she approached and stood next to Carol, similarly mesmerised by the scene on display. ‘How is Rachel handling it?’
‘You should know, Tara. You’re more than experienced in such treatment. But this one doesn’t even enjoy thinking about it afterwards like you do.’
‘Yet,’ said Tara.
Carol smiled. ‘I will say, she is truly made of strong stuff. Some of these women have been very good and she’s resisted the temptation to give in for nearly 24 hours. Speaking of which, this group’s time is nearly up. We had better make the draw for the final four...’
She reached into a black cloth bag and pulled out four tiles with numbers on. She handed the tiles to Tara who consulted a clipboard.
‘Who do we have?’ Carol asked.
‘We have Belinda, Christine, Sika and Mary again.’
Carol nodded, seemingly satisfied with many of these contestants, but considered, ‘That’s almost four of the best so far. And they’ve all come together for the final round! Poor little Rachel. I tell you what, Mary has had two goes already. Swap her for Miss Sandler. Let’s see if Rachel can last this final round with the four best...’
Tara shivered in empathy with Rachel and exited to collect the final group. Carol eyed the clock and leant forward. She pressed a button and the buzzer sounded. On screen, the four current ticklers looked disappointed.
At the sound of the buzzer Rachel’s head flopped back against the headrest. The four defeated ticklers unstrapped her wrists and ankles and helped her down. Tara entered the room as Rachel flopped—sweating, naked and exhausted—onto the bed. She curled into the foetal position and dragged the cover over herself.
Tara held the door open as the ticklers left the room. As she left, the final girl said, ‘Don’t you think she’s had enough now?’
Tara didn’t break her gaze. ‘She’s perfectly able to decide that for herself. She has a safe word.’ With that the girl shrugged agreement and left the room and before following her, Tara softly whispered, ’This is your last round, Rachel.’
Rachel couldn’t answer. She remained on the bed, huddled in the sheet with little spasms of sensation still shooting through her body and residues of laughter murmuring from her lips. She was physically drained and her mind was mush. There was no fight left in her. She had began to doubt her ability to last the entire 24 hours around six hours ago. Yes, there may only be one hour left but it was still 60 minutes of torture. She could only hope that the next four were some of the least effective ticklers she’d experienced over the past day.
She knew the ticklers she didn’t want. She’d given them nicknames throughout the experience to help remember them and hopefully, one day, get revenge: “Buxom Belinda”, “Clowny Christine”, “Sadistic Sika” and “Jo the complete bitch”.
She was so tired that she began to drift off to sleep… but a second later, the door opened and woke her with a start. She heard several pairs of feet walk into the room. In a state of semi-hallucination, she wondered if she pretended to be asleep, they might leave her alone.
‘Time for the final round, Rachel,’ came Carol’s voice, warm but official.
Rachel looked over her shoulder and there stood Tara and Carol. They were accompanied by the final four. She tentatively scanned the other faces one-by-one. Belinda…Christine…Sika…and Jo. The sneer on Jo’s face was particularly irritating. Despite her resolve, Rachel couldn’t help but let out a piteous whimper. Each of the ticklers had their own look of contentment for having another chance to win the money but, Rachel suspected, that wasn’t the main prize each of them sought. They wanted her to call, ‘Mercy!’ and, at this point, she wasn’t sure if she could refrain from doing so.
Carol smiled. She felt empathy for Rachel, but remained professional as she turned to the four ticklers, ‘This time, ladies, I will let you be a little more freeform in your approach. You may decide beforehand how to tackle Rachel. You can arrange the hour as before or you may want 15 minutes each or you could even do the entire hour together…’
‘No…’ pleaded Rachel.
‘I’d advise you not to let your fears be known, Rachel. They don’t even have you tied up yet!’ smiled Carol. Then she looked at the clock. ‘I will leave you to it. Good luck, Rachel. We will be watching!’
Carol left the room, followed by Tara. As Tara closed the door, she gave an assuring wink to Rachel.
The door shut, leaving the room in silence. Rachel looked up at the four enthusiastic women.
Belinda, as per the nickname bestowed upon her by Rachel, was a mumsy-looking Thai lady in her early forties and extremely busty. Throughout their first encounter, she had been unable to take her eyes off this woman’s cleavage, which had jiggled continuously during 10 solid minutes of tummy tickling.
Rachel had named 30-something Christine “Clowny Christine” partly because she had the rubber face of a 1980’s comedian who used a lot of expression in her stand-up routine and also because she laughed more than Rachel whilst dishing out her treatment, which took her from head to toe, several times over.
Sadistic Sika was a tall, slim, striking 20-year-old Kenyan woman. She hardly spoke or smiled but worked almost clinically to find Rachel’s weak spots and exploit them to their fullest.
The women spoke about Rachel as if she was an experiment.
‘So, how do you want to do this?’ asked Belinda.
‘I’m happy however it goes,’ replied Christine. ‘She seemed pretty scared at the idea of all four of us at once for the whole hour. Why don’t we do that?’
‘No,’ said Jo, her eyes locked on Rachel, ‘I’m not sharing the winnings with you randoms. I want it all for myself.’
‘Suits me,’ said Sika. ‘I’ll go first.’
Jo momentarily glared at Sika for daring to assert herself but then considered. ‘Fine. You lot failed before, you’ll fail again and you’ll be getting her warmed up for me.’
‘Didn’t you fail before too?’ asked Sika bluntly before striding over to Rachel and telling her to stand up. As Rachel stood into the light, the marks on her skin told their own story of the last 23 hours — red patches, fingernail scratches and the occasional light bruise.
‘Raise your arms high and keep them up,’ said Sika, ‘Do not let them drop. Remember: you need to do exactly as I say.’
Rachel was confused. This was the first time anything had taken place without some form of bondage. As she raised her arms the other women couldn’t help but admire her naked, Amazonian figure. Sika was able to look her squarely in the eye. ‘On your tip-toes and turn round.’ Rachel raised herself up and turned like an amateur ballerina. ‘Now keep looking dead ahead,’ said Sika.
Rachel did so. There was something in Sika’s authoritative manner that made her feel more naturally compelled to comply than with anyone else she had met that day. Suddenly she felt a light scratching at her left, size 9 sole. All forms of defiance had left her some time ago and she immediately started giggling. Unfortunately, because she wasn’t tied, she also couldn’t prevent herself from reacting and she stumbled sideways, off balance.
‘Up again!’ said Sika.
Rachel did so, but as soon as the tickling began again she fell sideways again. ‘I can’t! I’m too tired!’
‘Stand still then.’
Rachel did so, flat-footed on the carpet. As she did, she felt Sika’s nails trace lightly along the sides of her feet. She couldn’t help but laugh, especially when the nails dragged lightly over the tops of her feet and into the cleavage of her toes.
She felt the instinct to kick the fingers away, but the strange combination of tiredness and Sika’s dominating demeanour kept her in place.
Sika’s fingernails continued their journey, stroking and circling their way up Rachel’s legs. Rachel wasn’t laughing as hard as she had been at other times during the past day, but this was different to anything else she’d experienced — the light, incessant tracing was maddening and hard to resist. She continued to giggle through clenched teeth and tried to bear it. This gave Sika the signal she needed to confirm that this technique was working and as she swept up the backs of Rachel’s thighs and around her buttocks, Sika saw the hairs stand up all over the ticklish woman’s body.
Rachel moaned, almost turned on by the last movement, but then squealed in surprise as Sika’s fingernails met at her tailbone. She suddenly felt wide awake — she’d never been touched there by anyone before. After a moment of registering this new sensation, she knew that Sika was not going to let that reaction go. And, as predicted, the analytical young woman gently teased the space at the top of her buttocks with a single fingernail.
Rachel couldn’t help but laugh and dance on the spot. ‘Don’t you move away from me!’ said Sika.
The infuriating, concentrated sensations were getting so intense that Rachel was about to run away when—
Bzzzzzzzzz!
‘My turn!’ cried Christine who launched herself from out of nowhere. She tackled Rachel away from Sika’s reach and they landed on the king-size bed, with Christine on top. Rachel yelped in surprise and was initially relieved to be away from Sika’s inquisitive nails but the relief was short-lived.
Clowny Christine immediately lived up to her nickname as she got herself right in Rachel’s face and said with a comical expression, ‘Readyyy...!?’ She immediately began prodding and probing Rachels tummy and ribs. Rachel was so weak from the hours and hours of torture that she wasn’t able to put up a fight. When she tried, Christine easily knocked her hands away.
Rachel was quickly reduced to hysterics. It wasn’t just that Christine knew how to poke, prod and massage her in all the right places, but the mania with which she ludicrously and hyperactively commentated the torment:
‘Ooh! Who’s a ticklish girl!? You are, aren’t you!? Yes! Yes, you are! Shall I tickle you here? Or shall I tickle you here?! What about your waist!? Ooh, yes! That’s lovely! Listen to you laugh, you ticklish little thing! What about your ribbies? Yes, yes, yes! Lots of ticklish ribbies! I think I’ll keep tickling them for a while! Tickle! Tickle! Tickle! And what’s this!? Ticklish titties! I think I’ll run my fingers all over them! And the little nippies! That’s right! Nice and ticklish! Don’t get turned on though! I’m not a lesbian! I’m not going to be your girlfriend! I just want to tickle you! Tickle-wickle-pickle you! That’s right! And here’s your neck! I’ll just wiggle my fingers in there! Ha ha! Listen to you laugh, you tickly little girlie! I thought you were tough! Want me to stop? I will if you say, “Mercy!” Come on! You can do it! Just one word and I’ll stop...! No...? Okay, let’s turn you over! And now I can tickle you from behind, just here...!’
Rachel was in complete thrashing hysterics. Christine’s style of torment felt like an attack on her mind as well as her body, forcing reserves of energy out of her that she didn’t know she had. She lost all sense of time. It felt as though this was going on for an hour on its own. As she was rolled onto her stomach and Christine pressed into her waist she felt as though she might go insane. She just wanted it to stop—
Bzzzzzzzzz!
‘Aagh!’ said Christine in frustration as she stopped and climbed off.
Rachel lay panting on her front with nothing left to give. Suddenly, she was completely disoriented as the room span round. She was being rolled over and over and eventually came to rest on her front. Then she worked out what had happened — she’d been wrapped up into the bed covers. Completely mummified, with just her head protruding from one side of the bed and her feet dangling over the other. She struggled but to no avail.
Belinda crouched next to her head and spoke softly. ‘I’m awfully sorry, Rachel. I know this is a real challenge for you. I greatly enjoyed tickling your tummy earlier, but I did just notice how you reacted when Sika touched your feet and I think they deserve some attention. Would you say you’re ticklish there?’
‘No…’ this was both an appeal for Belinda to leave her feet alone and a lie intended to dissuade her from tickling her feet. Rachel’s mind was in such turmoil that she had forgotten the cardinal rule: don’t say you’re not ticklish somewhere that you obviously are. It just makes a tickler spend more time there!
‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ said Belinda as she stepped out of Rachel’s field of vision.
Rachel couldn’t help herself. ‘No! Please don’t touch my feet!’ she begged, ‘It’s too much! None of you know what this is like!’
‘Thank God for that, hey?’ Belinda laughed, looking at Jo.
Jo wasn’t laughing. She could sense that Rachel was on the brink of breaking and didn’t know how long she would be able to stand her feet being played with. She decided to try some psychological manipulation to aid her own means. ‘Oh, God, will you stop begging! It’s insulting to us real ticklers!’
‘Get stuffed!’ shouted Rachel, ‘You have no idea what this is like!’
‘No, I don’t. Firstly, I’m not a secret submissive who pretends to be dominant! Secondly, even if I was in your position, I’d be able to take ten times what you’ve had—!’
‘Erm, excuse me!’ interrupted Belinda, ‘I believe this is my time! Save your trash talk for your turn.’
‘Up yours, Jo!’ shouted Rachel.
Jo stopped talking but smiled inside. She felt like she’d said enough.
‘Now,’ said Belinda, kneeling down at Rachel’s feet. ‘My, my! Don’t you have lovely large feet?’
Rachel’s anger at Jo turned to concern at the vulnerable position her feet were in. Belinda had very long nails and she had been a very perceptive and adaptable tickler when she had been tickling her stomach. ‘Please, Belinda…’
‘Rachel, dear, you know we’re all in this together. If I don’t get the money then you will. I’m not here for the fun of it…’ she reconsidered, ‘I’m not only here for the fun of it! If you really want me to leave your feet alone, then you know the word you have to say. Now, where shall I start…?’
Rachel felt Belinda’s dextrous fingernails tease rapidly at her heels and she began to breathe quickly. She hated having her feet tickled for the same reason she was fascinated by doing it to other people — just a couple of light touches at the far extreme of someone’s body caused their mouth to betray how they felt by laughing and begging.
As the scurrying fingernails began to work their way down her large soles, she quickly crumbled into helpless tittering.
‘You have such a delightful laugh, Rachel!’ called Belinda, ‘I really think you should be a permanent ticklee after all this is over! Perhaps you could be mine on a regular basis?’
Rachel tried to growl away these taunts but her ticklishness betrayed her and she just kept laughing. As the fingernails reached the halfway point of her soles, a rush of fear came over her they were approaching her toes. She was just about able to cope with Sika’s slow, methodical stroking on the tops of her toes but the rapid movement Belinda was performing was going to make her lose it completely.
As Belinda’s fingernails crossed from the high arches to the balls of her feet, Rachel began to thrash uncontrollably. ‘N-no! No more! I c-c-can’t take it!’
‘Awww!’ Belinda teased, ‘Are you getting a little worried about how close I am to your lovely long toesies?’
‘Please!’ squealed Rachel in a panic, ‘Please! No! Haha! Not that!!!’
‘Shall I just give you a taste of what it’s like?’ said Belinda, throwing a gleeful wink to Christine, Sika and Jo, who all stood together, less than impressed.
‘Stop! Listen! Listen to meee!’ cried Rachel.
Belinda paused, ‘I’m listening.’
‘Let’s share it!’ Rachel called. ‘I’ll say the safe word, but you have to agree to split it, fifty-fifty!’
‘You can’t do that!’ shouted Jo.
‘Zip it, little lady,’ said Belinda, ‘There’s nothing in the rules against it.’ She considered a moment. ‘If you’re so desperate, Rachel, it indicates to me that you’re about to crack anyway. So, why would I share my winnings?’
Rachel made the fatal mistake of hesitating. Belinda enthusiastically scrabbled straight under, in between and around her toes. Rachel exploded into laughter and clenched her toes. Belinda could have demanded she stay still but she was panicked enough anyway with the current inability to protect herself and her panic added to a level of hysteria.
‘MER…!’ cried Rachel, before her words were engulfed by helpless laughter. Rachel panicked. What was she saying? It’s like it came out of nowhere.
Belinda stopped, ecstatic, but unsure what she had just heard. ‘What was that? Did I just win!?’ she looked to the others.
Jo was livid, ‘No, you didn’t. Otherwise the buzzer would have sounded.’
‘Keep your toes still, Rachel!’ she said and continued her attack. Rachel shrieked, and her voice came from within again, ‘MERRR...!’
Belinda was delighted. She was going to win! ‘Just one more time, Rachie! What do you want to say…?’
Bzzzzzzzzz!
Jo breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Oh, no!’ Belinda cried. She stopped, gutted that her time had gone by so quickly. She stood and unwrapped Rachel.
‘And now it’s my turn...’ said Jo, stepping forward with a sadistic smile...
Coming soon: The Ticklers' Lottery, Chapter 11.
First, a little back-story. I was recently approached by a member of the forum (who would like to remain anonymous) and asked to complete a saga that ran on the TMF from 2001 to 2006, by TickleWizard AKA TextbookTickler. I asked the opinion of the TMF moderators and they saw no issue with me completing the story.
I have no idea as to what TextbookTickler would have wanted the conclusion to this epic to be, but I put some thought into it and I very much hope, wherever he is now, he would be happy with my interpretation.
Here are the original nine chapters
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 1
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 2
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 3
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 4
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 5
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 6
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 7
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 8
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 9
The conclusion was only supposed to be one more chapter, but in keeping with the chapters that have preceded it, I have written three more (edit: it was originally 11, but in exploring the story further, it's now 12!).
So, for the fans of this story, and the superfan who requested it, here is...
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Part 10
by Tamira K.
based on characters originally created by TextbookTickler
Jo stirred. With her eyes still closed, she felt as though she had been in the middle of a very hot dream, but couldn’t recall what it was. She opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the silken canopy of a lavish four-poster bed. This wasn’t her bed... In a flash she recalled exactly where she was and knew why lying in the middle of a four-poster bed spelt trouble.
A smiling Tara stepped into view and looked down at her. Jo reacted with exaggerated physicality, swinging both fists into thin air.
Tara gently leaned back and contained her amusement. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
Jo then took the time to look around. ‘I thought you’d tied me down.’
‘No.’ Tara replied, ‘This is a consensual competition.’
‘You electrocuted me, you bitch!’
‘I stopped you from assaulting my boss.’
‘I wasn’t assaulting her! She told me to tie her up.’
‘She also told you the rules: five minutes and no more. You lost control and very intentionally went past that.’
Jo sat up. She didn’t like being told off by anyone but especially by a “professional ticklee”. ‘Whatever,’ she said as she stood up. ‘Touch me again and I’ll floor you. How long have I been asleep?’
Tara maintained a serene smile, ‘Quite some time, actually. Five minutes of action must’ve taken it out of you.’
Jo threw her a bitter look. ‘I’m warning you…’
‘Are you? Do you think that’s a good idea?’
Jo looked away in frustration. ‘What’s happening now? When do I get my next turn?’
‘The contest is continuing. If your number comes up again, I will come and get you. In the meantime, Carol has laid on some dinner for you.’ Tara indicated a trolley with a silver cloche and dessert on it. ‘Of course, you are welcome to leave.’
‘Not a chance,’ said Jo, sitting down at the meal. ‘I’m here for the long-haul.’
‘As you wish,’ said Tara and opened the door to leave the room. As she did, Jo could hear the distant sound of Rachel’s laughter echoing through the corridors and cursed the fact that she might not get another chance to break her.
Tara strolled down the corridor, knocked on Carol’s office door and entered. Carol sat with her long legs outstretched, feet up and sipping a cup of tea. Her face was illuminated by a wall of screens that covered every conceivable angle of the action taking place in the torture room. Rachel was on the St. Andrew’s Cross for the fifth time during her ordeal and four more enthusiastic ticklers were frantically exploiting every vulnerable part of her torso in an attempt to break her.
‘Not long to go now…’ said Carol, without looking up.
‘Yes,’ said Tara as she approached and stood next to Carol, similarly mesmerised by the scene on display. ‘How is Rachel handling it?’
‘You should know, Tara. You’re more than experienced in such treatment. But this one doesn’t even enjoy thinking about it afterwards like you do.’
‘Yet,’ said Tara.
Carol smiled. ‘I will say, she is truly made of strong stuff. Some of these women have been very good and she’s resisted the temptation to give in for nearly 24 hours. Speaking of which, this group’s time is nearly up. We had better make the draw for the final four...’
She reached into a black cloth bag and pulled out four tiles with numbers on. She handed the tiles to Tara who consulted a clipboard.
‘Who do we have?’ Carol asked.
‘We have Belinda, Christine, Sika and Mary again.’
Carol nodded, seemingly satisfied with many of these contestants, but considered, ‘That’s almost four of the best so far. And they’ve all come together for the final round! Poor little Rachel. I tell you what, Mary has had two goes already. Swap her for Miss Sandler. Let’s see if Rachel can last this final round with the four best...’
Tara shivered in empathy with Rachel and exited to collect the final group. Carol eyed the clock and leant forward. She pressed a button and the buzzer sounded. On screen, the four current ticklers looked disappointed.
At the sound of the buzzer Rachel’s head flopped back against the headrest. The four defeated ticklers unstrapped her wrists and ankles and helped her down. Tara entered the room as Rachel flopped—sweating, naked and exhausted—onto the bed. She curled into the foetal position and dragged the cover over herself.
Tara held the door open as the ticklers left the room. As she left, the final girl said, ‘Don’t you think she’s had enough now?’
Tara didn’t break her gaze. ‘She’s perfectly able to decide that for herself. She has a safe word.’ With that the girl shrugged agreement and left the room and before following her, Tara softly whispered, ’This is your last round, Rachel.’
Rachel couldn’t answer. She remained on the bed, huddled in the sheet with little spasms of sensation still shooting through her body and residues of laughter murmuring from her lips. She was physically drained and her mind was mush. There was no fight left in her. She had began to doubt her ability to last the entire 24 hours around six hours ago. Yes, there may only be one hour left but it was still 60 minutes of torture. She could only hope that the next four were some of the least effective ticklers she’d experienced over the past day.
She knew the ticklers she didn’t want. She’d given them nicknames throughout the experience to help remember them and hopefully, one day, get revenge: “Buxom Belinda”, “Clowny Christine”, “Sadistic Sika” and “Jo the complete bitch”.
She was so tired that she began to drift off to sleep… but a second later, the door opened and woke her with a start. She heard several pairs of feet walk into the room. In a state of semi-hallucination, she wondered if she pretended to be asleep, they might leave her alone.
‘Time for the final round, Rachel,’ came Carol’s voice, warm but official.
Rachel looked over her shoulder and there stood Tara and Carol. They were accompanied by the final four. She tentatively scanned the other faces one-by-one. Belinda…Christine…Sika…and Jo. The sneer on Jo’s face was particularly irritating. Despite her resolve, Rachel couldn’t help but let out a piteous whimper. Each of the ticklers had their own look of contentment for having another chance to win the money but, Rachel suspected, that wasn’t the main prize each of them sought. They wanted her to call, ‘Mercy!’ and, at this point, she wasn’t sure if she could refrain from doing so.
Carol smiled. She felt empathy for Rachel, but remained professional as she turned to the four ticklers, ‘This time, ladies, I will let you be a little more freeform in your approach. You may decide beforehand how to tackle Rachel. You can arrange the hour as before or you may want 15 minutes each or you could even do the entire hour together…’
‘No…’ pleaded Rachel.
‘I’d advise you not to let your fears be known, Rachel. They don’t even have you tied up yet!’ smiled Carol. Then she looked at the clock. ‘I will leave you to it. Good luck, Rachel. We will be watching!’
Carol left the room, followed by Tara. As Tara closed the door, she gave an assuring wink to Rachel.
The door shut, leaving the room in silence. Rachel looked up at the four enthusiastic women.
Belinda, as per the nickname bestowed upon her by Rachel, was a mumsy-looking Thai lady in her early forties and extremely busty. Throughout their first encounter, she had been unable to take her eyes off this woman’s cleavage, which had jiggled continuously during 10 solid minutes of tummy tickling.
Rachel had named 30-something Christine “Clowny Christine” partly because she had the rubber face of a 1980’s comedian who used a lot of expression in her stand-up routine and also because she laughed more than Rachel whilst dishing out her treatment, which took her from head to toe, several times over.
Sadistic Sika was a tall, slim, striking 20-year-old Kenyan woman. She hardly spoke or smiled but worked almost clinically to find Rachel’s weak spots and exploit them to their fullest.
The women spoke about Rachel as if she was an experiment.
‘So, how do you want to do this?’ asked Belinda.
‘I’m happy however it goes,’ replied Christine. ‘She seemed pretty scared at the idea of all four of us at once for the whole hour. Why don’t we do that?’
‘No,’ said Jo, her eyes locked on Rachel, ‘I’m not sharing the winnings with you randoms. I want it all for myself.’
‘Suits me,’ said Sika. ‘I’ll go first.’
Jo momentarily glared at Sika for daring to assert herself but then considered. ‘Fine. You lot failed before, you’ll fail again and you’ll be getting her warmed up for me.’
‘Didn’t you fail before too?’ asked Sika bluntly before striding over to Rachel and telling her to stand up. As Rachel stood into the light, the marks on her skin told their own story of the last 23 hours — red patches, fingernail scratches and the occasional light bruise.
‘Raise your arms high and keep them up,’ said Sika, ‘Do not let them drop. Remember: you need to do exactly as I say.’
Rachel was confused. This was the first time anything had taken place without some form of bondage. As she raised her arms the other women couldn’t help but admire her naked, Amazonian figure. Sika was able to look her squarely in the eye. ‘On your tip-toes and turn round.’ Rachel raised herself up and turned like an amateur ballerina. ‘Now keep looking dead ahead,’ said Sika.
Rachel did so. There was something in Sika’s authoritative manner that made her feel more naturally compelled to comply than with anyone else she had met that day. Suddenly she felt a light scratching at her left, size 9 sole. All forms of defiance had left her some time ago and she immediately started giggling. Unfortunately, because she wasn’t tied, she also couldn’t prevent herself from reacting and she stumbled sideways, off balance.
‘Up again!’ said Sika.
Rachel did so, but as soon as the tickling began again she fell sideways again. ‘I can’t! I’m too tired!’
‘Stand still then.’
Rachel did so, flat-footed on the carpet. As she did, she felt Sika’s nails trace lightly along the sides of her feet. She couldn’t help but laugh, especially when the nails dragged lightly over the tops of her feet and into the cleavage of her toes.
She felt the instinct to kick the fingers away, but the strange combination of tiredness and Sika’s dominating demeanour kept her in place.
Sika’s fingernails continued their journey, stroking and circling their way up Rachel’s legs. Rachel wasn’t laughing as hard as she had been at other times during the past day, but this was different to anything else she’d experienced — the light, incessant tracing was maddening and hard to resist. She continued to giggle through clenched teeth and tried to bear it. This gave Sika the signal she needed to confirm that this technique was working and as she swept up the backs of Rachel’s thighs and around her buttocks, Sika saw the hairs stand up all over the ticklish woman’s body.
Rachel moaned, almost turned on by the last movement, but then squealed in surprise as Sika’s fingernails met at her tailbone. She suddenly felt wide awake — she’d never been touched there by anyone before. After a moment of registering this new sensation, she knew that Sika was not going to let that reaction go. And, as predicted, the analytical young woman gently teased the space at the top of her buttocks with a single fingernail.
Rachel couldn’t help but laugh and dance on the spot. ‘Don’t you move away from me!’ said Sika.
The infuriating, concentrated sensations were getting so intense that Rachel was about to run away when—
Bzzzzzzzzz!
‘My turn!’ cried Christine who launched herself from out of nowhere. She tackled Rachel away from Sika’s reach and they landed on the king-size bed, with Christine on top. Rachel yelped in surprise and was initially relieved to be away from Sika’s inquisitive nails but the relief was short-lived.
Clowny Christine immediately lived up to her nickname as she got herself right in Rachel’s face and said with a comical expression, ‘Readyyy...!?’ She immediately began prodding and probing Rachels tummy and ribs. Rachel was so weak from the hours and hours of torture that she wasn’t able to put up a fight. When she tried, Christine easily knocked her hands away.
Rachel was quickly reduced to hysterics. It wasn’t just that Christine knew how to poke, prod and massage her in all the right places, but the mania with which she ludicrously and hyperactively commentated the torment:
‘Ooh! Who’s a ticklish girl!? You are, aren’t you!? Yes! Yes, you are! Shall I tickle you here? Or shall I tickle you here?! What about your waist!? Ooh, yes! That’s lovely! Listen to you laugh, you ticklish little thing! What about your ribbies? Yes, yes, yes! Lots of ticklish ribbies! I think I’ll keep tickling them for a while! Tickle! Tickle! Tickle! And what’s this!? Ticklish titties! I think I’ll run my fingers all over them! And the little nippies! That’s right! Nice and ticklish! Don’t get turned on though! I’m not a lesbian! I’m not going to be your girlfriend! I just want to tickle you! Tickle-wickle-pickle you! That’s right! And here’s your neck! I’ll just wiggle my fingers in there! Ha ha! Listen to you laugh, you tickly little girlie! I thought you were tough! Want me to stop? I will if you say, “Mercy!” Come on! You can do it! Just one word and I’ll stop...! No...? Okay, let’s turn you over! And now I can tickle you from behind, just here...!’
Rachel was in complete thrashing hysterics. Christine’s style of torment felt like an attack on her mind as well as her body, forcing reserves of energy out of her that she didn’t know she had. She lost all sense of time. It felt as though this was going on for an hour on its own. As she was rolled onto her stomach and Christine pressed into her waist she felt as though she might go insane. She just wanted it to stop—
Bzzzzzzzzz!
‘Aagh!’ said Christine in frustration as she stopped and climbed off.
Rachel lay panting on her front with nothing left to give. Suddenly, she was completely disoriented as the room span round. She was being rolled over and over and eventually came to rest on her front. Then she worked out what had happened — she’d been wrapped up into the bed covers. Completely mummified, with just her head protruding from one side of the bed and her feet dangling over the other. She struggled but to no avail.
Belinda crouched next to her head and spoke softly. ‘I’m awfully sorry, Rachel. I know this is a real challenge for you. I greatly enjoyed tickling your tummy earlier, but I did just notice how you reacted when Sika touched your feet and I think they deserve some attention. Would you say you’re ticklish there?’
‘No…’ this was both an appeal for Belinda to leave her feet alone and a lie intended to dissuade her from tickling her feet. Rachel’s mind was in such turmoil that she had forgotten the cardinal rule: don’t say you’re not ticklish somewhere that you obviously are. It just makes a tickler spend more time there!
‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ said Belinda as she stepped out of Rachel’s field of vision.
Rachel couldn’t help herself. ‘No! Please don’t touch my feet!’ she begged, ‘It’s too much! None of you know what this is like!’
‘Thank God for that, hey?’ Belinda laughed, looking at Jo.
Jo wasn’t laughing. She could sense that Rachel was on the brink of breaking and didn’t know how long she would be able to stand her feet being played with. She decided to try some psychological manipulation to aid her own means. ‘Oh, God, will you stop begging! It’s insulting to us real ticklers!’
‘Get stuffed!’ shouted Rachel, ‘You have no idea what this is like!’
‘No, I don’t. Firstly, I’m not a secret submissive who pretends to be dominant! Secondly, even if I was in your position, I’d be able to take ten times what you’ve had—!’
‘Erm, excuse me!’ interrupted Belinda, ‘I believe this is my time! Save your trash talk for your turn.’
‘Up yours, Jo!’ shouted Rachel.
Jo stopped talking but smiled inside. She felt like she’d said enough.
‘Now,’ said Belinda, kneeling down at Rachel’s feet. ‘My, my! Don’t you have lovely large feet?’
Rachel’s anger at Jo turned to concern at the vulnerable position her feet were in. Belinda had very long nails and she had been a very perceptive and adaptable tickler when she had been tickling her stomach. ‘Please, Belinda…’
‘Rachel, dear, you know we’re all in this together. If I don’t get the money then you will. I’m not here for the fun of it…’ she reconsidered, ‘I’m not only here for the fun of it! If you really want me to leave your feet alone, then you know the word you have to say. Now, where shall I start…?’
Rachel felt Belinda’s dextrous fingernails tease rapidly at her heels and she began to breathe quickly. She hated having her feet tickled for the same reason she was fascinated by doing it to other people — just a couple of light touches at the far extreme of someone’s body caused their mouth to betray how they felt by laughing and begging.
As the scurrying fingernails began to work their way down her large soles, she quickly crumbled into helpless tittering.
‘You have such a delightful laugh, Rachel!’ called Belinda, ‘I really think you should be a permanent ticklee after all this is over! Perhaps you could be mine on a regular basis?’
Rachel tried to growl away these taunts but her ticklishness betrayed her and she just kept laughing. As the fingernails reached the halfway point of her soles, a rush of fear came over her they were approaching her toes. She was just about able to cope with Sika’s slow, methodical stroking on the tops of her toes but the rapid movement Belinda was performing was going to make her lose it completely.
As Belinda’s fingernails crossed from the high arches to the balls of her feet, Rachel began to thrash uncontrollably. ‘N-no! No more! I c-c-can’t take it!’
‘Awww!’ Belinda teased, ‘Are you getting a little worried about how close I am to your lovely long toesies?’
‘Please!’ squealed Rachel in a panic, ‘Please! No! Haha! Not that!!!’
‘Shall I just give you a taste of what it’s like?’ said Belinda, throwing a gleeful wink to Christine, Sika and Jo, who all stood together, less than impressed.
‘Stop! Listen! Listen to meee!’ cried Rachel.
Belinda paused, ‘I’m listening.’
‘Let’s share it!’ Rachel called. ‘I’ll say the safe word, but you have to agree to split it, fifty-fifty!’
‘You can’t do that!’ shouted Jo.
‘Zip it, little lady,’ said Belinda, ‘There’s nothing in the rules against it.’ She considered a moment. ‘If you’re so desperate, Rachel, it indicates to me that you’re about to crack anyway. So, why would I share my winnings?’
Rachel made the fatal mistake of hesitating. Belinda enthusiastically scrabbled straight under, in between and around her toes. Rachel exploded into laughter and clenched her toes. Belinda could have demanded she stay still but she was panicked enough anyway with the current inability to protect herself and her panic added to a level of hysteria.
‘MER…!’ cried Rachel, before her words were engulfed by helpless laughter. Rachel panicked. What was she saying? It’s like it came out of nowhere.
Belinda stopped, ecstatic, but unsure what she had just heard. ‘What was that? Did I just win!?’ she looked to the others.
Jo was livid, ‘No, you didn’t. Otherwise the buzzer would have sounded.’
‘Keep your toes still, Rachel!’ she said and continued her attack. Rachel shrieked, and her voice came from within again, ‘MERRR...!’
Belinda was delighted. She was going to win! ‘Just one more time, Rachie! What do you want to say…?’
Bzzzzzzzzz!
Jo breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Oh, no!’ Belinda cried. She stopped, gutted that her time had gone by so quickly. She stood and unwrapped Rachel.
‘And now it’s my turn...’ said Jo, stepping forward with a sadistic smile...
Coming soon: The Ticklers' Lottery, Chapter 11.
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