Hello,
Yes, I previously said this would be 11 Chapters, but the story now requires 12...
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 Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 10
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Part 11
by Tamira K.
based on characters originally created by TickleWizard/TextbookTickler
Rachel lay on the bed looking up at Jo, panting heavily.
‘Back on your feet, bitch!’ said Jo, smiling.
Rachel could hardly move.
Jo turned to the others, ‘Help me get her up. Under the ceiling hook again.’
Belinda, Christine and Sika reluctantly assisted Jo to get Rachel in a standing position. Rachel, now almost so weak that she couldn’t stand, sobbed a little. She knew what the ceiling hook meant — Jo wanted another go at her armpits, which were now more sensitive than they had ever felt in her life.
‘Oh, my God, are you weeping!?’ said Jo as Rachel’s wrists were secured into the overhead straps. ‘I think you need to rethink your titles! Who would want a top-flight Marketing Consultant or a Tickle Top who bawls at a little tickling!?’
Rachel strengthened her resolve, ‘I’m not crying! Up yours!’
‘Okay, whatever you say,’ said Jo as she stepped back to analyse the helpless naked target in front of her.
Just then, Carol’s voice purred calmly over a speaker system that was installed in the room, ‘Ten minutes remaining...’
Rachel wanted to stay strong but, if she had nothing left to give at the beginning of this hour, she now had even less. It had just been proved to her that she couldn’t trust her own mouth. The best plan she could come up with was to put all focus into keeping her lips tight and just accept the next ten minutes of torture.
Jo’s eyes narrowed as she saw Rachel’s concerted effort to press her lips together and she knew what she was up to.
‘Remember subbie, you have to do as I say and this time I want you to talk constantly.’
Rachel’s eyebrows raised in the middle. Her last defence was about to be broken.
Jo continued, ‘I want you to say what is happening and what you’re thinking. I want you to talk continuously and not stop until you hear the klaxon that signifies my victory. Ready…?’
Jo approached Rachel with her fingers wriggling and aimed at Rachel’s fully-stretched armpits. Rachel instinctively tried not to talk.
‘I asked you a question, bitch. Now talk!’
Rachel was too mentally strained to be able to invent an alternative monologue, she could only say exactly what she was thinking, ‘No! No, I’m not ready! I never was ready! I can’t take it any more! I’m more sensitive than I’ve ever been and I just want to be let go now!’
Jo’s evil grin widened as her fingers approached Rachel’s skin, ‘And...?’
Rachel closed her eyes and turned her head away, ‘And I can’t look! I don’t want this to happen! I’m too ticklish! I can’t take it! I don’t want you to touch me! I hate you! You’re a total bitch and I—’
Jo made contact.
‘...I I-EEEEEE AAH HA HA HA HA HA...!!!’ Rachel went berserk in a way that none of the women had ever witnessed before. It was like her humanity had been taken from her but this didn’t stop Jo. She got her face right up to Rachel’s armpit as she scrutinised the precise level of contact she needed for optimum results. Sweat streamed from all over Rachel’s body, helping Jo’s fingernails glide with ease.
‘Five minutes remain...’ came Carol’s calm voice.
Belinda, Christine and Sika found it hard to watch, whilst Jo was in her element she found that the lighter she teased the skin of Rachel’s armpits, the more hysterical Rachel became. ‘Keep talking!’ she shouted over the sound of Rachel’s laughter
‘I’M TICKLISH! I-I-I’M TOO T-TICKLISH F-FOR THIS! HA HA! HELP ME!!! I’M GOING CRAZYYYYYY! M-MY ARMPITS ARE MY W-W-WORST SPOT!!! HA HA HA!!!’ Rachel screamed, her head lolling back and forth.
‘And so what do you want to say?’ Jo sneered, vindictively, ‘What do you want to say to get this to stop!?’
‘I KNOW WHAT I WANT TO SAY! HHHHAHAHAHAHA! BUT I DON’T W-WANT TO SAY IT! PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEEESE!’ Rachel yelled in a mixture of emotion and ticklish agony. Tears now mixed with laughter as Jo took an unexpected deviation from Rachel’ armpits to her hips, causing her to squeal and twist on the spot but Jo stayed in constant, relentless contact, running light fingernails all over Rachel’s body.
‘One minute remaining...’ said Carol.
Jo panicked, ‘Say it!’ she demanded
Rachel shook her head, ‘I-I D-DON’T WANT TO!!!’
‘SAY IT!!!’ Jo yelled, bringing her fingers back to the hellishly ticklish skin of Rachel’s armpits and causing her to go ballistic.
‘MMMERCYYY!’ screamed Rachel.
A loud klaxon sounded.
The room fell silent.
Jo stood back, revelling in her triumph and the echo of Rachel’s submission still ringing in the ears of those who witnessed it.
Rachel’s legs went from under her and she was left dangling from her wrist chains, her face covered by her sweat-soaked hair. Tara swiftly entered and she, Sika, Belinda and Christine helped release her and get her to the bed.
Carol entered and Jo turned to her, ‘I won!’ she beamed.
‘Yes, you did,’ said Carol. ‘How is she, Tara?’
‘In need of a rest, I think.’
‘No doubt.’
Tara wrapped Rachel in a luxurious dressing gown and held a bottle of water to her lips. Rachel took sips and was able to shoot a look of resentment to Jo. Jo sneered, ‘Told you I’d break you.’
‘There’s no need for gloating at this point,’ said Carol, ‘it lacks class.’
Jo’s smile shrank at being told off. ’When’s my prize-giving ceremony?’ she said, content with the victory and now seeking glory as the confirmed Queen of the Ticklers.
‘There is no ceremony,’ said Carol, ‘I’ve sent all the other contestants home. There was no need for them to stay. I would, however, like to invite you all to be my guests for the night and to share a 9am breakfast with me in the morning.’
The women each nodded agreement, needing some recuperation after 24 hours of mayhem. Carol showed the four ticklers to their rooms as Tara escorted Rachel to hers.
‘I have a new-found respect for what you put yourself through, Tara,’ said Rachel, meekly.
‘Thank you. Although it’s not often as intense as what you just experienced. Would you like me to run you a bath?’
‘That would be nice, but no thanks. I need to sleep. Perhaps I’ll bathe before breakfast. How long did I last, by the way?’
‘You almost made it. You had fourteen seconds left.’
‘Fourteen seconds!?’ Rachel deflated, ‘I could be £6000 richer right now! I didn’t know what was happening. My mouth was saying things I didn’t want to say.’
‘Yes, but don’t feel too bad. These skills can be developed. Plus, you may not know it now, but you will have learnt a lot from this experience.’
‘I can’t imagine what!’ said Rachel. ‘Never get tickled again?’
‘It’ll come to you. Just sleep on it.’ Tara smiled and left the room.
Without hesitation, Rachel laid back and went straight to sleep.
– – – – –
The following morning the ladies all joined Carol in the lavish dining hall for breakfast. Carol sat at the head of the long table in an impressive green business suit that emphasised the natural redness of her hair.
Jo was the last to arrive. This was a deliberate move, in order to have an audience for her entrance. Carol counted it as disrespect. Each of the others just tried to ignore her.
‘Good morning, ladies. I trust you all slept well? Firstly, may I just say—on behalf of everyone else who attended over the past day— thank you to Rachel. Nobody wanted to be in your position and you did marvellously well.’
There was a small round of applause, spoilt only by Jo’s sarcastic slow clapping, which didn’t go unnoticed by Carol.
‘And now, I would like to tell you the real reason as to why you are all here,’ said Carol.
The group was confused.
‘The real reason?’ said Belinda.
‘Yes. You don’t think this was really just a competition, do you? That I’m some eccentric multimillionaire with a love for tickling?’
The women stayed silent. They kinda did.
‘No. I’m here to find talented people. I’m the head of a relatively new branch of the secret service: The Elite Tickle Interrogation Unit or ETIU. As unorthodox as it may sound, the secret service has use for those who can interrogate suspects without hurting them in the battle against those who seek to harm our nation. I was tasked to find an elite crew who I could train for such work.’
The women were gobsmacked. ‘So you want to recruit us?’ asked Rachel.
‘Yes,’ said Carol. ‘Did it not strike you as odd that £1000 was really quite measly in terms of prize money?’
Jo felt the need to justify herself, ‘Yeah. But I came here because I love torturing. Not the money.’
‘And that’s the balance I needed to strike,’ said Carol. ‘There were many more applicants than those who attended the contest. I wanted to find those who were good at what they do because they love doing it and those who found the prize money an incentive.’ She paused. I’m now offering you each £70,000 per year. Of course you will be required to sign declarations of commitment under penalty of incarceration and there will be extensive training.’
The group looked at one another in astonishment.
‘Do I need any more training?’ Jo scoffed, ‘I mean, I did just win the competition.’
Carol lost her patience, ‘My dear, you need more training than anyone! Yes, your technique is impressive but your attitude is not. When given two opportunities, you broke the rules no less than twice—that’s a 100% failure rate—and you are very easily emotionally manipulated. This is not just about having the ability to tickle someone’s armpits when they already have ticklish armpits. This is about the physical and psychological training that goes with every secret service position. This is about getting better and improving yourself to be the best. This is about self-discipline. This is about making someone fall to pieces in front of you when they have never been ticklish in their life before. You are all diamonds in the rough and you, Miss Sandler, are far from the finished article, despite how flawless you currently perceive yourself to be!’
Jo was finally silenced. The others smirked at one another. Tara circled the table, laying down contracts of engagement and golden pens for each of the women.
Rachel scanned the contract and then looked to Carol. ‘So, was there anything else that happened over the past day that wasn’t as it appeared to be?’
Carol smirked. She cast her mind back to the initial draw to see who the ticklee would be. She recalled seeing Rachel enter the room and having one of her spy cameras note the number 17 on her ticket. She recalled pulling out the number 25 from the black felt bag and announcing, ‘And our lucky—ahem, sorry—unlucky winner is...number 17!’
‘Yes, and I’m a little bit sorry about that, Rachel. You were chosen to be the ticklee on purpose.’
‘Why me?!’ exclaimed Rachel.
‘Because, as part of the process of deciding who was to attend the contest, we researched into everyone’s past. We even sent a couple of our undercover agents to be tickled by you over the past few months. The reports we got back indicated that you were by far the best tickler of everyone here. I only needed to see you in action once — on Tara, here.’
Tara smiled at Rachel, ‘You are very good.’
Rachel blushed.
Jo looked distinctly put out by the assertion and so interrupted Rachel’s appreciation-fest, ‘So, we sign these, go through the training and get seventy grand a year?’
‘If you make it through the training, yes,’ said Carol.
‘I’ll make it through,’ said Jo, picking up her pen and signing the document without reading it.
The other women read the contract thoroughly and then signed. Tara collected the documents.
‘So, who trains us?’ asked Christine.
‘We have a crew of men and women who have been recruited from all over the world. You are the third fivesome to go through the system.’
‘And when does the training begin?’ asked Sika.
‘It can begin today if you are all ready,’ said Carol. The group confirmed that they were. ‘Excellent. Well, the first task is for you each to experience what Rachel has just been through...’
Jo’s face dropped. She looked around at the other women who all seemed to take this information in their stride.
‘...as described in your contract.’
‘What!?’ said Jo.
‘The contract you just signed,’ smiled Tara. ‘It is legally binding.’
Jo was dumbstruck. She then noticed the other women all looking at her with sadistic glee in their eyes.
Carol explained, ‘To be a truly effective tickler requires empathy, Miss Sandler. You may be naturally talented, but you’ll only ever be a shadow of your potential if you don’t know what it’s like to be tickled in the most extreme ways possible.’
Jo began to sweat. ‘Yes, I can! I’m as good as I am without ever being tickled—’
‘And another thing,’ said Carol, ignoring her, ‘If you don’t fulfil your contract, this time it’s not £1000 that is on the line. It’s £70,000. Per year. So… the only question is, are you going to let your immature ego prevent you from life-changing income and the chance to be the best you can be?’
Jo experienced a moment of inner turmoil that caused her to falter.
‘Why don’t you go last?’ said Rachel, with apparent consideration for her position. ‘It will give you the chance to think it over.’
Jo looked at her, confused as to why Rachel would be nice to her. But she agreed.
‘I’ll go first,’ said Sika.
‘Very well,’ said Carol. ‘I will see you all in the torture room in one hour. This time you will be alternating with the other agents who have already completed training. So, you will be working together once every three hours for the next 24 hour period.’
As they left the table, Tara and Rachel exchanged a knowing smile. Jo was unaware that, having just been tickled by 49 women, Rachel had gained valuable insight into any toys, techniques and psychological torment of which she had been previously unaware. She was brimming with new things to try and, if Jo went last, she would be on the receiving end of herself, Sika, Belinda and Christine who would all be the best they had ever been...
To be concluded. Coming soon: The Ticklers' Lottery, Chapter 12.
Yes, I previously said this would be 11 Chapters, but the story now requires 12...
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 Ticklers’ Lottery, Chapter 10
The Ticklers’ Lottery, Part 11
by Tamira K.
based on characters originally created by TickleWizard/TextbookTickler
Rachel lay on the bed looking up at Jo, panting heavily.
‘Back on your feet, bitch!’ said Jo, smiling.
Rachel could hardly move.
Jo turned to the others, ‘Help me get her up. Under the ceiling hook again.’
Belinda, Christine and Sika reluctantly assisted Jo to get Rachel in a standing position. Rachel, now almost so weak that she couldn’t stand, sobbed a little. She knew what the ceiling hook meant — Jo wanted another go at her armpits, which were now more sensitive than they had ever felt in her life.
‘Oh, my God, are you weeping!?’ said Jo as Rachel’s wrists were secured into the overhead straps. ‘I think you need to rethink your titles! Who would want a top-flight Marketing Consultant or a Tickle Top who bawls at a little tickling!?’
Rachel strengthened her resolve, ‘I’m not crying! Up yours!’
‘Okay, whatever you say,’ said Jo as she stepped back to analyse the helpless naked target in front of her.
Just then, Carol’s voice purred calmly over a speaker system that was installed in the room, ‘Ten minutes remaining...’
Rachel wanted to stay strong but, if she had nothing left to give at the beginning of this hour, she now had even less. It had just been proved to her that she couldn’t trust her own mouth. The best plan she could come up with was to put all focus into keeping her lips tight and just accept the next ten minutes of torture.
Jo’s eyes narrowed as she saw Rachel’s concerted effort to press her lips together and she knew what she was up to.
‘Remember subbie, you have to do as I say and this time I want you to talk constantly.’
Rachel’s eyebrows raised in the middle. Her last defence was about to be broken.
Jo continued, ‘I want you to say what is happening and what you’re thinking. I want you to talk continuously and not stop until you hear the klaxon that signifies my victory. Ready…?’
Jo approached Rachel with her fingers wriggling and aimed at Rachel’s fully-stretched armpits. Rachel instinctively tried not to talk.
‘I asked you a question, bitch. Now talk!’
Rachel was too mentally strained to be able to invent an alternative monologue, she could only say exactly what she was thinking, ‘No! No, I’m not ready! I never was ready! I can’t take it any more! I’m more sensitive than I’ve ever been and I just want to be let go now!’
Jo’s evil grin widened as her fingers approached Rachel’s skin, ‘And...?’
Rachel closed her eyes and turned her head away, ‘And I can’t look! I don’t want this to happen! I’m too ticklish! I can’t take it! I don’t want you to touch me! I hate you! You’re a total bitch and I—’
Jo made contact.
‘...I I-EEEEEE AAH HA HA HA HA HA...!!!’ Rachel went berserk in a way that none of the women had ever witnessed before. It was like her humanity had been taken from her but this didn’t stop Jo. She got her face right up to Rachel’s armpit as she scrutinised the precise level of contact she needed for optimum results. Sweat streamed from all over Rachel’s body, helping Jo’s fingernails glide with ease.
‘Five minutes remain...’ came Carol’s calm voice.
Belinda, Christine and Sika found it hard to watch, whilst Jo was in her element she found that the lighter she teased the skin of Rachel’s armpits, the more hysterical Rachel became. ‘Keep talking!’ she shouted over the sound of Rachel’s laughter
‘I’M TICKLISH! I-I-I’M TOO T-TICKLISH F-FOR THIS! HA HA! HELP ME!!! I’M GOING CRAZYYYYYY! M-MY ARMPITS ARE MY W-W-WORST SPOT!!! HA HA HA!!!’ Rachel screamed, her head lolling back and forth.
‘And so what do you want to say?’ Jo sneered, vindictively, ‘What do you want to say to get this to stop!?’
‘I KNOW WHAT I WANT TO SAY! HHHHAHAHAHAHA! BUT I DON’T W-WANT TO SAY IT! PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEEESE!’ Rachel yelled in a mixture of emotion and ticklish agony. Tears now mixed with laughter as Jo took an unexpected deviation from Rachel’ armpits to her hips, causing her to squeal and twist on the spot but Jo stayed in constant, relentless contact, running light fingernails all over Rachel’s body.
‘One minute remaining...’ said Carol.
Jo panicked, ‘Say it!’ she demanded
Rachel shook her head, ‘I-I D-DON’T WANT TO!!!’
‘SAY IT!!!’ Jo yelled, bringing her fingers back to the hellishly ticklish skin of Rachel’s armpits and causing her to go ballistic.
‘MMMERCYYY!’ screamed Rachel.
A loud klaxon sounded.
The room fell silent.
Jo stood back, revelling in her triumph and the echo of Rachel’s submission still ringing in the ears of those who witnessed it.
Rachel’s legs went from under her and she was left dangling from her wrist chains, her face covered by her sweat-soaked hair. Tara swiftly entered and she, Sika, Belinda and Christine helped release her and get her to the bed.
Carol entered and Jo turned to her, ‘I won!’ she beamed.
‘Yes, you did,’ said Carol. ‘How is she, Tara?’
‘In need of a rest, I think.’
‘No doubt.’
Tara wrapped Rachel in a luxurious dressing gown and held a bottle of water to her lips. Rachel took sips and was able to shoot a look of resentment to Jo. Jo sneered, ‘Told you I’d break you.’
‘There’s no need for gloating at this point,’ said Carol, ‘it lacks class.’
Jo’s smile shrank at being told off. ’When’s my prize-giving ceremony?’ she said, content with the victory and now seeking glory as the confirmed Queen of the Ticklers.
‘There is no ceremony,’ said Carol, ‘I’ve sent all the other contestants home. There was no need for them to stay. I would, however, like to invite you all to be my guests for the night and to share a 9am breakfast with me in the morning.’
The women each nodded agreement, needing some recuperation after 24 hours of mayhem. Carol showed the four ticklers to their rooms as Tara escorted Rachel to hers.
‘I have a new-found respect for what you put yourself through, Tara,’ said Rachel, meekly.
‘Thank you. Although it’s not often as intense as what you just experienced. Would you like me to run you a bath?’
‘That would be nice, but no thanks. I need to sleep. Perhaps I’ll bathe before breakfast. How long did I last, by the way?’
‘You almost made it. You had fourteen seconds left.’
‘Fourteen seconds!?’ Rachel deflated, ‘I could be £6000 richer right now! I didn’t know what was happening. My mouth was saying things I didn’t want to say.’
‘Yes, but don’t feel too bad. These skills can be developed. Plus, you may not know it now, but you will have learnt a lot from this experience.’
‘I can’t imagine what!’ said Rachel. ‘Never get tickled again?’
‘It’ll come to you. Just sleep on it.’ Tara smiled and left the room.
Without hesitation, Rachel laid back and went straight to sleep.
– – – – –
The following morning the ladies all joined Carol in the lavish dining hall for breakfast. Carol sat at the head of the long table in an impressive green business suit that emphasised the natural redness of her hair.
Jo was the last to arrive. This was a deliberate move, in order to have an audience for her entrance. Carol counted it as disrespect. Each of the others just tried to ignore her.
‘Good morning, ladies. I trust you all slept well? Firstly, may I just say—on behalf of everyone else who attended over the past day— thank you to Rachel. Nobody wanted to be in your position and you did marvellously well.’
There was a small round of applause, spoilt only by Jo’s sarcastic slow clapping, which didn’t go unnoticed by Carol.
‘And now, I would like to tell you the real reason as to why you are all here,’ said Carol.
The group was confused.
‘The real reason?’ said Belinda.
‘Yes. You don’t think this was really just a competition, do you? That I’m some eccentric multimillionaire with a love for tickling?’
The women stayed silent. They kinda did.
‘No. I’m here to find talented people. I’m the head of a relatively new branch of the secret service: The Elite Tickle Interrogation Unit or ETIU. As unorthodox as it may sound, the secret service has use for those who can interrogate suspects without hurting them in the battle against those who seek to harm our nation. I was tasked to find an elite crew who I could train for such work.’
The women were gobsmacked. ‘So you want to recruit us?’ asked Rachel.
‘Yes,’ said Carol. ‘Did it not strike you as odd that £1000 was really quite measly in terms of prize money?’
Jo felt the need to justify herself, ‘Yeah. But I came here because I love torturing. Not the money.’
‘And that’s the balance I needed to strike,’ said Carol. ‘There were many more applicants than those who attended the contest. I wanted to find those who were good at what they do because they love doing it and those who found the prize money an incentive.’ She paused. I’m now offering you each £70,000 per year. Of course you will be required to sign declarations of commitment under penalty of incarceration and there will be extensive training.’
The group looked at one another in astonishment.
‘Do I need any more training?’ Jo scoffed, ‘I mean, I did just win the competition.’
Carol lost her patience, ‘My dear, you need more training than anyone! Yes, your technique is impressive but your attitude is not. When given two opportunities, you broke the rules no less than twice—that’s a 100% failure rate—and you are very easily emotionally manipulated. This is not just about having the ability to tickle someone’s armpits when they already have ticklish armpits. This is about the physical and psychological training that goes with every secret service position. This is about getting better and improving yourself to be the best. This is about self-discipline. This is about making someone fall to pieces in front of you when they have never been ticklish in their life before. You are all diamonds in the rough and you, Miss Sandler, are far from the finished article, despite how flawless you currently perceive yourself to be!’
Jo was finally silenced. The others smirked at one another. Tara circled the table, laying down contracts of engagement and golden pens for each of the women.
Rachel scanned the contract and then looked to Carol. ‘So, was there anything else that happened over the past day that wasn’t as it appeared to be?’
Carol smirked. She cast her mind back to the initial draw to see who the ticklee would be. She recalled seeing Rachel enter the room and having one of her spy cameras note the number 17 on her ticket. She recalled pulling out the number 25 from the black felt bag and announcing, ‘And our lucky—ahem, sorry—unlucky winner is...number 17!’
‘Yes, and I’m a little bit sorry about that, Rachel. You were chosen to be the ticklee on purpose.’
‘Why me?!’ exclaimed Rachel.
‘Because, as part of the process of deciding who was to attend the contest, we researched into everyone’s past. We even sent a couple of our undercover agents to be tickled by you over the past few months. The reports we got back indicated that you were by far the best tickler of everyone here. I only needed to see you in action once — on Tara, here.’
Tara smiled at Rachel, ‘You are very good.’
Rachel blushed.
Jo looked distinctly put out by the assertion and so interrupted Rachel’s appreciation-fest, ‘So, we sign these, go through the training and get seventy grand a year?’
‘If you make it through the training, yes,’ said Carol.
‘I’ll make it through,’ said Jo, picking up her pen and signing the document without reading it.
The other women read the contract thoroughly and then signed. Tara collected the documents.
‘So, who trains us?’ asked Christine.
‘We have a crew of men and women who have been recruited from all over the world. You are the third fivesome to go through the system.’
‘And when does the training begin?’ asked Sika.
‘It can begin today if you are all ready,’ said Carol. The group confirmed that they were. ‘Excellent. Well, the first task is for you each to experience what Rachel has just been through...’
Jo’s face dropped. She looked around at the other women who all seemed to take this information in their stride.
‘...as described in your contract.’
‘What!?’ said Jo.
‘The contract you just signed,’ smiled Tara. ‘It is legally binding.’
Jo was dumbstruck. She then noticed the other women all looking at her with sadistic glee in their eyes.
Carol explained, ‘To be a truly effective tickler requires empathy, Miss Sandler. You may be naturally talented, but you’ll only ever be a shadow of your potential if you don’t know what it’s like to be tickled in the most extreme ways possible.’
Jo began to sweat. ‘Yes, I can! I’m as good as I am without ever being tickled—’
‘And another thing,’ said Carol, ignoring her, ‘If you don’t fulfil your contract, this time it’s not £1000 that is on the line. It’s £70,000. Per year. So… the only question is, are you going to let your immature ego prevent you from life-changing income and the chance to be the best you can be?’
Jo experienced a moment of inner turmoil that caused her to falter.
‘Why don’t you go last?’ said Rachel, with apparent consideration for her position. ‘It will give you the chance to think it over.’
Jo looked at her, confused as to why Rachel would be nice to her. But she agreed.
‘I’ll go first,’ said Sika.
‘Very well,’ said Carol. ‘I will see you all in the torture room in one hour. This time you will be alternating with the other agents who have already completed training. So, you will be working together once every three hours for the next 24 hour period.’
As they left the table, Tara and Rachel exchanged a knowing smile. Jo was unaware that, having just been tickled by 49 women, Rachel had gained valuable insight into any toys, techniques and psychological torment of which she had been previously unaware. She was brimming with new things to try and, if Jo went last, she would be on the receiving end of herself, Sika, Belinda and Christine who would all be the best they had ever been...
To be concluded. Coming soon: The Ticklers' Lottery, Chapter 12.
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