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This story was supposed to be shorter and less sexual. I might write a cut down, innocent, demon free version....
- - - -
Irene snuck into her seat in the corner booth of the train. She liked her privacy and was annoyed by the sleeping, scruffy man opposite her who was slumped in the corner. At least she thought it was a man, it could have been one of these “Guys” that were made out of straw and rubbish to be burnt in the strange ‘bun-fires’ British people light this time of year. It was a warm autumn day so Irene slipped her socked feet out of her colourful converses loving the way the cool air felt against her warm but fragrant feet.
Irene took good care of herself and liked to feel clean and comfortable, keeping her feet soft, odourless and sweat-free was part of that. Yawning she stretched out her legs placed them on the opposite seat, pointing with her toes to find the gap under the low table. As Irene wondered why the opposite seat was higher something happened;
Under her round heels what Irene presumed was the opposite seat began to move as the man opposite stirred. Irene gasped and stuttered an apology, squeaking in surprise as the scruffy man swung his other leg over the tops of her ankles trapping her feet.
Irene's awkward apology turned to giggles as the scruffy man began to tickle her sensitive socked soles. Irene wasn't just ticklish, she was super-ticklish. Even a cursory poke, prod or stroke could leave her giggling and squirming submissively, especially if she was caught off guard like this.
"No that tickles!" She pleaded through giggles quickly losing her voice.
"An appropriate punishment! You isn't a supposed to put your feet on the seats!" The strange man opposite her declared in a broad accent unfamiliar to the Asian student.
"No please!" Irene begged quickly losing control.
The man's legs were like a set of stocks. Irene's ankles trapped by their vice-like grip. Irene had never been tickled for more than a minute before, even on the bouncy castle the weekend before it hadn’t been this bad!
The weekend before her trip Irene and her fellow female students had gone to some ‘cider festival’ where there were hay bales, strange music and a bouncy castle. Irene had loved jumping around with the girls in her socks until Jenny accidentally discover she was ticklish and pounced on her making her squeal and shriek. The worst wasn’t the tickling on the bouncy castle that only lasted a minute or so, although it was unbearable for hyper-sensitive Asian beauty! The worst was when Jenny pulled off her colourful socks and stole them along with her prized pink converses and ran away; Irene tried to chase Jenny but running across the grass, straw and hay was unbearable for her. Irene never went barefoot and kept her feet soft, fresh and well moisturised. However the plucky red-head wanted to be caught and waved Irene’s prized footwear teasingly from a little hidey-hole by some speakers and empty beer barrels. Irene was surprised when Jenny leant in to kiss her, she had been angry and scared then suddenly the voluptuous red-head was kissing her and hugging her. What surprised Irene the most was that she was kissing Jenny back, every inch of her skin tingling.
It had been a week of confusion and regret, Irene had never really thought about girls that way, there had never been time with her studies and anxiety. Now for the first time in a week the confusion was banished by the pure tickle torture doled out relentlessly by her captor. Despite the protection afforded by Irene’s socks this was the worst tickle-torture she had ever experienced. People liked to tickle her, and for some reason cats and dogs often licked her bare soles. Normally though, she could squirm away or her friends would come to protect her, people in polite society could only tickle her so long but this man was not part of polite society and had no intention of stopping.
Irene had a love-hate relationship with her feet. Walking barefoot across grass was impossible for her, and without sandals the evil green spikey blades made her stick to the paths of her university campus. Irene loved to wear socks though, especially warm socks with plastic sandals. The straw on her feet at the cider festival had been an utter nightmare. Whilst grass was torture for Irene, sand was ecstasy. There was nothing better than walking barefoot at the beach and feeling the sand between her toes. And all that salt and sand made her feet super soft, and super sensitive. Letting the tide ripple over her toes and the tops of her feet was almost orgasmic for Irene and a part of her was curious about the warm wet tongues of cats, or maybe Jenny!
Being trapped made Irene a thousand times more ticklish. The sensation of her captor’s legs pinning her ankles made her panic at her utter helplessness, but there was also something of the pure unadulterated ecstasy of her frequent trips to the beach as the strange man explored her toes through her socks. The man had straw-like long blonde hair, a strange tattered hat and clothes and a gnarled sun-darkened face. Worst of all was his rough fingertips that felt hard and rough like bark or straw. Irene had never been tickled this long before and the terrible urge to flee was nowhere close to subsided and yet escape was impossible for poor Irene!
Irene was panicking. She was panicking so badly that she even bought into the scruffy man's skewed logic that if people heard her laughing she would get in trouble for putting her feet on the seat. She tried to resist laughing to her captor’s delight. All too soon Irene was trapped in the terrible rictus of silent laughter, making her his! All his!
A true sadist: the cruel vagabond spent several minutes slowly removing Irene's thin grey cotton socks, tickling her enough to keep her panicking and squirming, just barely capable of begging for mercy in a quiet voice. There was something utterly adorable about the way Irene begged in her quiet, submissive voice.
The cruel scruffy man finally bared her soles, slipping her fragrant socks into his coat pocket as a souvenir. Now was the time for him to use the toys at his disposal, from the same pocket that now held Irene's precious socks he produced two feathers. One was a shiny black crow's feather, the other a brown stripy feather from a female pheasant. He had many such feathers about his person, all would be tested on Irene's soles and toes: None would fail.
The cruel man would wisp the feathers between her toes whilst also tickling her creamy arches with his long ragged nails. He would also use the spiky points of the feathers to trace devilish designs all over her sensitive soles. There were no wrong moves but each technique was tried and tested with relish. Even his bare fingers were utterly hellish, feeling like the spiky strands of straw at the cider festival.
Irene was red in the face by now, she had worried she would lose control of her bladder but ever since the cruel man started using the pointy ends of the feathers her loins had started to tingle. Electric sensations ran all through her body as her body started to turn to jelly. Her panic had subsided and now Irene was feeling different, her body felt strange. It was a tingle she had only experienced when dreaming of Jenny over the past few days. She had hated being tickled, and the kiss only confused her! But Irene wanted Jenny somehow, the way she smiled and laughed… Sadly she could not manage anything hut shy awkwardness in the Celtic Goddess’ presence.
Utterly exhausted Irene slumped in her seat. At this point it would not have mattered if her cruel captor released her ankles, Irene was simply too ticklish to resist. The cruel man used his fingertips which felt strangely like the straw from the cider festival only animated purposefully to torture her in her exhausted malaise. In one of the short breaks to prolong his victim’s agony the cruel man held up his hands, he had positioned feathers between each finger so that his hands sported three rows of cruel pointy spikes.
It was clear what his intention was: instead of tracing one or two of the sharp quills over her soles he was going to apply a dozen or so to each sole.
"No please!" Irene begged, the prospect of such torture was unthinkable as was the humiliation she would feel if she gave in to the delicious torture and climaxed hard as her body craved. Irene had only just started touching herself that week, finding sleep impossible since Jenny kissed her and needing some way to relieve her hot hypersensitive body at night.
"Yes!" The man whispered lowering his hands to finalise Irene's humiliation.
The second the sharp points made contact with Irene's soles her clit slipped out from under its hood. She was past the point of no return now and clasped down hard on the train’s seat as her body betrayed her mind. Still she was silent; laughing like a ghost as her resolve slipped.
The scent of her own juices brought Irene down to earth. There was no stain on her tight jeans but her fragrant quim had been released. Feeling ashamed Irene changed tack and begged out of desperation;
"No please... need bathroom... no more!" The Asian beauty pleaded, her captor cooed sympathetically and made her surrender her expensive phone for the promise of a bathroom break.
But her sadistic captor was not done with het yet. A terrible black pen was produced along with a biro and Irene's soles became works of art sporting messages such as; "Super ticklish!" and "Please tickle me!" Somehow her captor even marked her pale soft soles with bold characters in her native Korean before returning her socks.
Irene’s precious new colourful converses were taken hostage along with her phone. Irene just needed a break from the torture, she had planned to masturbate to prevent the nightmarish humiliation of a red-faced, screaming public orgasm.
Being denied her shoes stopped Irene from even entering the unsanitary toilet cubicle. She just padded from one end of the train to the other before returning to her seat aghast that on the crowded train there was no-one near to her seat to witness and prevent her cruel exploitation.
Irene had a nasty surprise when she returned to her seat. Her cruel captor had the photo of her inky soles ready to upload to social media. It wasn't an exact translation but the Korean symbols the strange man somehow knew would be understood to all of her friends as 'tickle-slut'.
The man tapped the seat indicating that he wished for her to return her soles to his administrations. Irene cursed her trip west to see the city where her favourite show was filmed. It had been a lovely weekend and a wonderful hotel but the return trip had turned to pure torture.
Sulkily she returned her soles to the seat between the man's legs. This time he stripped away her socks hungrily, tying her big toes with a piece of string and tying the other end to the underside of the table between them. Irene couldn't believe how brazen he was being. As he revealed the electric toothbrush and hairbrush pillaged from her luggage Irene glanced down at her phone.
The update was still ready to post, she could make a grab for it but knew that in the confusion her touch-screen phone would probably broadcast her shame. The thought of her family and friends seeing her soles marked with ink terrified her, not only would it be utterly humiliating but she would never be free of people suddenly tickling her.
It was a long train journey for Irene, the electric toothbrush between her toes was the worst despite the brutality of the brush. Her cruel captor forced her to climax again and again just from foot tickling until her juices soaked through her jeans. He then compounded her utter humiliation by sending her hypersensitive soles into overdrive with her own hairbrush. Irene trembled with humiliation as she felt the air tug at her now urine-soaked jeans.
'How is nobody stopping this?' Irene thought to herself.
Somehow Irene’s captor persuaded her to change into the sundress and flip-flops from her bag. There was something about his piercing blue eyes that made her obey him. Irene tried not to flash the 'tickle-slut' message as she was guided through the station to a taxi.
Within a few hours she sat in her captor's dungeon. Her feet trapped in heavy wooden stocks her arms stretched high above her head. Poor Irene was to be spared no torture. Her already sensitive soles were to be scrubbed with hot soapy water, heated slapped and tickled at the peak of their sensitivity with fingers and all manner of cruel tickle-tools. Goats and cats were used to lick brine and grease from her soles as part of a cruel cycle that was always followed by more scrubbing and heating.
No inch of her sensitive Asian body was spared the touch of fingers, feathers and every imaginable tickle-tool. Whilst her soles were licked her thighs were kneaded and her upper body explored with fingers and feathers. What amazed her captor was not just her ability to endure such punishment despite her obvious hypersensitivity but also her capacity to climax again and again despite her absolute agony. She did not even need to be tickled down there although her clit spent many a minute under the administrations of a fine paintbrush or soft feather.
Curious as to how much his prized tickle toy could take Irene was cunningly transferred to a kneeling set of stocks designed to make every ticklish spot vulnerable apart from the backs of her knees that had already been thoroughly explored.
In her new position Irene's pussy smouldered away. Her captor was a master and gently teased her labia and clit with a fine soft paintbrush until the orgasmic release she craved was tantalisingly close but kept skilfully out of reach. Hungry to torment all of his victim the cruel scarecrow brought forth a terrible wheel sporting two rows of feathers that teased Irene’s inner thighs and the terribly sensitive skin where thighs met her taint. Irene squirmed trying to get the feathers to wisp over her pussy being kept terribly on the precipice of an orgasm and forced to endure terrible tickling all over her hyper-sensitive body.
Irene was spared no torture as her underarms, sides and neck were softly and skilfully tickled. Both captor and victim knew that too much stimulation would push her over the edge into a howling, frenzied, red-faced primal release. The cruel man wanted to prolong her torment instead and began to apply the tuna oil to her soles;
"No not the cats again!" Irene wailed.
"Yes! Time for my kitties to feast on your soles..." The cruel man insisted.
He knew their coarse sand papery tongues would tickle his victim terribly, but also that Irene would respond with repulsion as well as laughter. This he knew from the face she pulled in the stocks when he first subjected her to ‘kitten torture’. Irene had previously been curious about having her soles licked, but now cats’ tongues were to be feared.
Irene’s torture in the kneeling device lasted for several hours. Cruelly her captor would explain to her precisely what he was going to do to her next until finally she reached the point of no return. Any stimulation would push Irene into the full release of an orgasm.
Naked apart from her blindfold and bonds Irene began to wail; "Noo Don't stop!" She desperately writhed, curling her toes against their toe-ties in an attempt to push her pink suffering soles into the evil blocks of ice that had been placed against them.
The ice blocks had been a master stroke. After enduring the cats her soles had once again been scrubbed, roasted and slapped before finally being subjected to two perfectly shaped blocks of ice that were placed against the red glowing skin, fitting perfectly into her arches and over the balls of her feet. There were even protrusions of ice to go between her toes.
“Tickles please!” Irene wailed as the roaring silence boomed against her need for orgasmic release.
“Ticket’s please!” The conductor asked again, looking down at the dreaming Asian sleeping beauty.
“Tickles please…” Irene murmured in her sleep.
The conductor shrugged and leant down trapping the Asian student’s ankles under his strong hands amongst the straw all over the blue fabric seat.
“If you say so miss!” He declared as he began to tickle her soft socked soles.
The reaction was unexpected and explosive, the conductor had just expected to tickle the silly girl awake and playfully chide her for putting her feet up on the seat as she giggled cutely. Instead the Asian beauty rocked and writhed in ecstasy, arching her back and crying a primal howl as his fingers stroked her soles. The conductor knew he should stop but something inside him made him carry on, he knew he could be fired for anything other than a playful poke but he scribbled his nails over the soft soles as the Asian student dig her nails into the train’s seat the scent of quim filing the carriage. Still half asleep she continued to beg to be tickled, the conductor’s eyes the same piercing blue as the terrible straw-man from her nightmare.
When Irene had finally finished climaxing the conductor apologised awkwardly, blinking;
“Sorry love, I thought you said ‘tickles please’, you see I said tickets please!” he was a confused and had a slight headache starting at the backs of his eyes.
Irene was slowly coming to her senses, now the conductor looked at her tickets with his soft kind brown eyes and moved on. Baffled and blushing Irene wondered what had happened to her; ‘when did she fall asleep?’
‘Have I missed my stop? Where am I?’
‘Was there really a man here at the start of my journey…’
These questions along with a thousand others assaulted her mind along with the terrible piercing blue eyes both the man from her nightmare and the conductor had briefly pierced her very soul with.
When she got home, exhausted and embarrassed her confusion only grew. Stripping off her grey socks her eyes were assaulted by the same bold black letters outlining every ticklish spot, only the characters in her native Korean did not read: ‘tickle-slut’… they read ‘tickle-queen’!!! Irene was cared and slipped into the shower eager to wash the torturous trip off of her.
Two days later Jenny screamed into her sock-gag. She had fallen into Irene’s trap hook, line and sinker! After the initial awkwardness and her trip out West, Irene had slowly warmed to her and then asked her to help study ‘tactile sensations’ in the Science lab’ after hours. With a little smile and feigned awkwardness Irene had seduced the voluptuous red-head and now had her tied down tightly to the old wooden table.
Jenny was terrified. It had only been ten minutes since Irene had kissed her and then overpowered her. Jenny wasn’t sure how Irene had got her stretched out and tied helplessly like this. She certainly wasn’t sure how Irene’s eyes now glowed bright blue! All she knew was that she was in trouble!
Stripped naked and tied helpless in a room no-one would use for hours Jenny screamed into the gag made out of her favourite socks: the yellow ones with the cats. She desperately hoped someone would hear her but her captor had chosen this room well, this old laboratory sometimes went months without ever even being used!
Jenny’s pale skin was ticklish, not as ticklish as Irene’s; but just give it some time with soapy water, scrubbing brushes and heat lamps. So far Jenny’s cruel captor had started with her feet, devising toe-ties from various lab’ equipment. But in time every inch of the voluptuous red-heads body would be teased, toyed with and tormented.
Jenny screamed and howled as Irene teased her nipples with soft feathers and brushes making her dark pink buds stiff and firm. This was just the start and after getting her victim’s nipples to bursting point the blue-eyed tickle-demon trapped each bud in a little clamp device, again developed from the old science equipment. Jenny didn’t think her ordeal could get any worse as her nipple clamps were used to pull her breasts up on fine cables, now the cruel clamps tugged on her nipples in response to any movement. But Jenny was wrong, her former crush had knowledge of ancient tortures more unbearable and devious than this.
The table Jenny was tied down to hand a sink built in to it just below her ass. As the possessed Asian beauty teased her victim she also set up the next device: A long springy metal bar sporting two feathers positioned perfectly to tickle Jenny’s smouldering pussy. It was a device of supreme cruelty; not only would it translate any movement into a soft touch in the Celtic Goddesses most sensitive region but it could be set in motion with a quick twang making it flicker up and down from the opposite edge of the sink. Jenny was close to climaxing despite her fear. She knew that the creature tormenting her was not poor gentle Irene, something in her bones knew that she was in the presence of an ancient terrible evil! She didn’t need to see the piercing blue eyes to know that! Jenny had dabbled in witchcraft, and cursed not listening noticing the change in her crush sooner.
What was more Jenny felt as if she knew what this evil spirit wanted, it didn’t just crave tickle-torturing her pale and tender yet strong body; it wanted in!
Jenny tried to resist but this demon wasn’t playing fair; Jenny was a tickle freak and would fantasize about being tickled and tickle torturing other women just like this. Jenny had met up with a few other tickle-philes; but had stuck to gentle-tickles, clothes on with no bondage. In the videos and stories Jenny loved there was extreme tickle-torture just like this! However being on the receiving end of such extreme tickle-torture was unbearable, the once shy Asian student was relentless moving between tickle-spots quickly and unpredictably until Jenny’s entire body was bright pink.
The vibrating feather device was the worst, it not only flickered back and forth but also cunningly drew Jenny’s juices back to the inner workings between the two feathers where some kind of contraption swelled pushing the two plumes out and away from Jenny’s engorged clit to flicker up and down over her hypersensitive undercarriage. The true cruelty of this contraption was that had the feathers remained zeroed in on Jenny’s swollen clit she would have climaxed long ago, instead she was kept on the very edge of an orgasm for half an hour as her juices kept the release she craved tantalisingly close yet out of reach. As she was teased Jenny’s pale tender skin was tormented from her elegant neck to her long toes trapped expertly in toe-ties. Finally the Celtic Goddess could take no more and howled through her sock-gag;
“PPPLEEEAFFFTH!!!! LEEEWWWTT… MMMMHHH… KKKKHHRRRMMM!...”
Sensing victory was imminent the evil spirit brought Irene’s lips close to Jenny’s ear and whispered;
“Okay my sweet! But when you do you are mine, together we shall roam this rock and find more ticklish women to torment. You shall watch powerless as those lovely sharp nails torment sole after sole, something I know you crave!”
“NNNNN HOOO!” Jenny wailed, terrible at the prospect of losing control to this ancient terrible evil.
Jenny’s former crush whirled a fine paintbrush, her blue eyes beaming a cruel unnatural light. The Celtic Goddess knew she was not at the mercy of her Asian crush but deliriously pleaded with Irene incomprehensibly through her gag. She wanted to grab the Asian beauty and kiss her but at the same time she somehow knew giving in to her sexual urges would lead to her being a prisoner in her own body the way Irene was now.
The evil spirit made Irene’s face smile to express its joy. It had only been a few days since it was swirling on the winds of this rock it had been banished too aeons ago. Some of the foolish apes had left a suitable vessel made of straw for it to corrupt and inhabit just long enough to transfer itself to one of their kind, now it had another to inoculate with its prodigy: and soon it would spawn hundreds of itself and rule this rock!
For now though it would satisfy itself by conquering the trembling mass of flesh stretched out on the table before it. Slowly the fine brush was lowered towards Jenny’s ravenous womanhood, the Celtic Goddess thrashed against her bonds making her entire body vibrate like a guitar string. And upon contact what sweet music was made the second the fine fronds of the brush stroked Jenny’s engorged clit her resistance melted and she exploded in an earth-shattering orgasm. She could feel her consciousness receding as her control melted and knew she was doomed. Still the pleasure coursed through her making her feel both powerful and powerless at the same time. When the powerful climax was over Jenny’s body should have slumped with her exhausted mind, instead her muscles tensed and flexed against their bonds her eyes closed in concentration as something explored the nerves and neurons of this new vessel. Jenny’s eyes opened revealing eyes that were no longer emerald green but piercing blue, glowing just like Irene’s.
“Welcome!” Irene said with a smile.
“Good to be here! Want to swap over and show me the ropes so we can tickle your one together!” Jenny’s voice answered.
The Celtic Goddess couldn’t believe it! Her ears heard her own voice but she had not tried to speak!
Within a few minutes Irene was tied naked to the table in the same manner Jenny had been. She screamed into a gag made of a plastic rubber ball and some duct tape and Jenny’s cruel nails traced her immobile feet the ingenious toe-ties keeping her soft arches taut for torture. She had fragmented memories of watching Jenny suffer under such cruel torture techniques. What exactly had happened Irene did not know, one moment she had been taking a shower and the she was tied naked and helpless on a warm wooden table damp with Jenny’s sweat and juices.
Flashes of memories howled at Irene. She recalled watching the torture devices be made by her own hands but had no idea when. Between her legs a similar device to the one that had broken Jenny flickered up and down on the cruel metal spring. This one sported four feathers that did not move but traced gently up and down whenever the flexible piece of metal was twanged by her captor. Two of the feathers proudly brushed against her inner thighs and undercarriage whilst the other two briskly breezed each of her pussy lips and labia in smooth yet unpredictable strokes.
Laughing as she tickled: Jenny’s possessed body tickled Irene’s from head to sensitive toe, already having intimate knowledge of every tickle spot. It took two of the evil spirits to subdued Jenny’s enraged consciousness that howled and thrashed, true she had the same desires as the cruel demons within her but she cared about Irene and knew this was way too much!
But it was too late! Within months the evil spirits would have corrupted thousands of human hosts, building a powerful business empire for their first two vessels, having watched humanity and its foibles since the foolish apes’ first tentative steps on this rock and knowing exactly how to exploit their vanity and their greed.
From the fortress of their business empire Jenny and Irene were powerless to watch as woman after woman laughed and pleaded with them for mercy from stocks, racks and cruelly ingenious bondage device designed to stretch them out helplessly for tickle-torture and orgasm denial. Irene and Jenny didn’t know it but this was to be their fate for decades, perhaps centuries: their bodies would age slower and be resistant to disease. But this was a source of little comfort as they would be spared no torture on the many occasions the spirits would abandon them for a temporary host, often the poor woman they had just tortured.
Sometimes only one of the primary hosts, sometimes both would wake up from the terrible nightmare of watching their bodies dish out sadistic torture to a new nightmare of being stretched out on a rack or some other device; the women they just tortured standing over them with bright blue glowing eyes ready to torture their soft hypersensitive bodies in the same manner the ancient spirits had just forced them to inflict.
Irene had no idea what lay before her that night stretched out on the table but she was terrified as the Celtic Goddess positioned electric toothbrushes between and every one of her toes as punishment for orgasm number one. Each of the evil bristled heads was secured in place with little clips and then switched on leaving the voluptuous red-head to torment Irene’s smooth underarms and neck with fingers and feathers.
‘How can this be!!!’ Irene thought as she screamed incoherently. A long night of torture awaiting her before lifetime of helplessly watching and enduring the same sadistic and scintillating scenes of depravity. Both Irene and humanity were weak, too weak to stop the ancient spirits on their sadistic rise to power. No pretty woman was to be spared, no pretty woman was safe!
- - - -
Irene snuck into her seat in the corner booth of the train. She liked her privacy and was annoyed by the sleeping, scruffy man opposite her who was slumped in the corner. At least she thought it was a man, it could have been one of these “Guys” that were made out of straw and rubbish to be burnt in the strange ‘bun-fires’ British people light this time of year. It was a warm autumn day so Irene slipped her socked feet out of her colourful converses loving the way the cool air felt against her warm but fragrant feet.
Irene took good care of herself and liked to feel clean and comfortable, keeping her feet soft, odourless and sweat-free was part of that. Yawning she stretched out her legs placed them on the opposite seat, pointing with her toes to find the gap under the low table. As Irene wondered why the opposite seat was higher something happened;
Under her round heels what Irene presumed was the opposite seat began to move as the man opposite stirred. Irene gasped and stuttered an apology, squeaking in surprise as the scruffy man swung his other leg over the tops of her ankles trapping her feet.
Irene's awkward apology turned to giggles as the scruffy man began to tickle her sensitive socked soles. Irene wasn't just ticklish, she was super-ticklish. Even a cursory poke, prod or stroke could leave her giggling and squirming submissively, especially if she was caught off guard like this.
"No that tickles!" She pleaded through giggles quickly losing her voice.
"An appropriate punishment! You isn't a supposed to put your feet on the seats!" The strange man opposite her declared in a broad accent unfamiliar to the Asian student.
"No please!" Irene begged quickly losing control.
The man's legs were like a set of stocks. Irene's ankles trapped by their vice-like grip. Irene had never been tickled for more than a minute before, even on the bouncy castle the weekend before it hadn’t been this bad!
The weekend before her trip Irene and her fellow female students had gone to some ‘cider festival’ where there were hay bales, strange music and a bouncy castle. Irene had loved jumping around with the girls in her socks until Jenny accidentally discover she was ticklish and pounced on her making her squeal and shriek. The worst wasn’t the tickling on the bouncy castle that only lasted a minute or so, although it was unbearable for hyper-sensitive Asian beauty! The worst was when Jenny pulled off her colourful socks and stole them along with her prized pink converses and ran away; Irene tried to chase Jenny but running across the grass, straw and hay was unbearable for her. Irene never went barefoot and kept her feet soft, fresh and well moisturised. However the plucky red-head wanted to be caught and waved Irene’s prized footwear teasingly from a little hidey-hole by some speakers and empty beer barrels. Irene was surprised when Jenny leant in to kiss her, she had been angry and scared then suddenly the voluptuous red-head was kissing her and hugging her. What surprised Irene the most was that she was kissing Jenny back, every inch of her skin tingling.
It had been a week of confusion and regret, Irene had never really thought about girls that way, there had never been time with her studies and anxiety. Now for the first time in a week the confusion was banished by the pure tickle torture doled out relentlessly by her captor. Despite the protection afforded by Irene’s socks this was the worst tickle-torture she had ever experienced. People liked to tickle her, and for some reason cats and dogs often licked her bare soles. Normally though, she could squirm away or her friends would come to protect her, people in polite society could only tickle her so long but this man was not part of polite society and had no intention of stopping.
Irene had a love-hate relationship with her feet. Walking barefoot across grass was impossible for her, and without sandals the evil green spikey blades made her stick to the paths of her university campus. Irene loved to wear socks though, especially warm socks with plastic sandals. The straw on her feet at the cider festival had been an utter nightmare. Whilst grass was torture for Irene, sand was ecstasy. There was nothing better than walking barefoot at the beach and feeling the sand between her toes. And all that salt and sand made her feet super soft, and super sensitive. Letting the tide ripple over her toes and the tops of her feet was almost orgasmic for Irene and a part of her was curious about the warm wet tongues of cats, or maybe Jenny!
Being trapped made Irene a thousand times more ticklish. The sensation of her captor’s legs pinning her ankles made her panic at her utter helplessness, but there was also something of the pure unadulterated ecstasy of her frequent trips to the beach as the strange man explored her toes through her socks. The man had straw-like long blonde hair, a strange tattered hat and clothes and a gnarled sun-darkened face. Worst of all was his rough fingertips that felt hard and rough like bark or straw. Irene had never been tickled this long before and the terrible urge to flee was nowhere close to subsided and yet escape was impossible for poor Irene!
Irene was panicking. She was panicking so badly that she even bought into the scruffy man's skewed logic that if people heard her laughing she would get in trouble for putting her feet on the seat. She tried to resist laughing to her captor’s delight. All too soon Irene was trapped in the terrible rictus of silent laughter, making her his! All his!
A true sadist: the cruel vagabond spent several minutes slowly removing Irene's thin grey cotton socks, tickling her enough to keep her panicking and squirming, just barely capable of begging for mercy in a quiet voice. There was something utterly adorable about the way Irene begged in her quiet, submissive voice.
The cruel scruffy man finally bared her soles, slipping her fragrant socks into his coat pocket as a souvenir. Now was the time for him to use the toys at his disposal, from the same pocket that now held Irene's precious socks he produced two feathers. One was a shiny black crow's feather, the other a brown stripy feather from a female pheasant. He had many such feathers about his person, all would be tested on Irene's soles and toes: None would fail.
The cruel man would wisp the feathers between her toes whilst also tickling her creamy arches with his long ragged nails. He would also use the spiky points of the feathers to trace devilish designs all over her sensitive soles. There were no wrong moves but each technique was tried and tested with relish. Even his bare fingers were utterly hellish, feeling like the spiky strands of straw at the cider festival.
Irene was red in the face by now, she had worried she would lose control of her bladder but ever since the cruel man started using the pointy ends of the feathers her loins had started to tingle. Electric sensations ran all through her body as her body started to turn to jelly. Her panic had subsided and now Irene was feeling different, her body felt strange. It was a tingle she had only experienced when dreaming of Jenny over the past few days. She had hated being tickled, and the kiss only confused her! But Irene wanted Jenny somehow, the way she smiled and laughed… Sadly she could not manage anything hut shy awkwardness in the Celtic Goddess’ presence.
Utterly exhausted Irene slumped in her seat. At this point it would not have mattered if her cruel captor released her ankles, Irene was simply too ticklish to resist. The cruel man used his fingertips which felt strangely like the straw from the cider festival only animated purposefully to torture her in her exhausted malaise. In one of the short breaks to prolong his victim’s agony the cruel man held up his hands, he had positioned feathers between each finger so that his hands sported three rows of cruel pointy spikes.
It was clear what his intention was: instead of tracing one or two of the sharp quills over her soles he was going to apply a dozen or so to each sole.
"No please!" Irene begged, the prospect of such torture was unthinkable as was the humiliation she would feel if she gave in to the delicious torture and climaxed hard as her body craved. Irene had only just started touching herself that week, finding sleep impossible since Jenny kissed her and needing some way to relieve her hot hypersensitive body at night.
"Yes!" The man whispered lowering his hands to finalise Irene's humiliation.
The second the sharp points made contact with Irene's soles her clit slipped out from under its hood. She was past the point of no return now and clasped down hard on the train’s seat as her body betrayed her mind. Still she was silent; laughing like a ghost as her resolve slipped.
The scent of her own juices brought Irene down to earth. There was no stain on her tight jeans but her fragrant quim had been released. Feeling ashamed Irene changed tack and begged out of desperation;
"No please... need bathroom... no more!" The Asian beauty pleaded, her captor cooed sympathetically and made her surrender her expensive phone for the promise of a bathroom break.
But her sadistic captor was not done with het yet. A terrible black pen was produced along with a biro and Irene's soles became works of art sporting messages such as; "Super ticklish!" and "Please tickle me!" Somehow her captor even marked her pale soft soles with bold characters in her native Korean before returning her socks.
Irene’s precious new colourful converses were taken hostage along with her phone. Irene just needed a break from the torture, she had planned to masturbate to prevent the nightmarish humiliation of a red-faced, screaming public orgasm.
Being denied her shoes stopped Irene from even entering the unsanitary toilet cubicle. She just padded from one end of the train to the other before returning to her seat aghast that on the crowded train there was no-one near to her seat to witness and prevent her cruel exploitation.
Irene had a nasty surprise when she returned to her seat. Her cruel captor had the photo of her inky soles ready to upload to social media. It wasn't an exact translation but the Korean symbols the strange man somehow knew would be understood to all of her friends as 'tickle-slut'.
The man tapped the seat indicating that he wished for her to return her soles to his administrations. Irene cursed her trip west to see the city where her favourite show was filmed. It had been a lovely weekend and a wonderful hotel but the return trip had turned to pure torture.
Sulkily she returned her soles to the seat between the man's legs. This time he stripped away her socks hungrily, tying her big toes with a piece of string and tying the other end to the underside of the table between them. Irene couldn't believe how brazen he was being. As he revealed the electric toothbrush and hairbrush pillaged from her luggage Irene glanced down at her phone.
The update was still ready to post, she could make a grab for it but knew that in the confusion her touch-screen phone would probably broadcast her shame. The thought of her family and friends seeing her soles marked with ink terrified her, not only would it be utterly humiliating but she would never be free of people suddenly tickling her.
It was a long train journey for Irene, the electric toothbrush between her toes was the worst despite the brutality of the brush. Her cruel captor forced her to climax again and again just from foot tickling until her juices soaked through her jeans. He then compounded her utter humiliation by sending her hypersensitive soles into overdrive with her own hairbrush. Irene trembled with humiliation as she felt the air tug at her now urine-soaked jeans.
'How is nobody stopping this?' Irene thought to herself.
Somehow Irene’s captor persuaded her to change into the sundress and flip-flops from her bag. There was something about his piercing blue eyes that made her obey him. Irene tried not to flash the 'tickle-slut' message as she was guided through the station to a taxi.
Within a few hours she sat in her captor's dungeon. Her feet trapped in heavy wooden stocks her arms stretched high above her head. Poor Irene was to be spared no torture. Her already sensitive soles were to be scrubbed with hot soapy water, heated slapped and tickled at the peak of their sensitivity with fingers and all manner of cruel tickle-tools. Goats and cats were used to lick brine and grease from her soles as part of a cruel cycle that was always followed by more scrubbing and heating.
No inch of her sensitive Asian body was spared the touch of fingers, feathers and every imaginable tickle-tool. Whilst her soles were licked her thighs were kneaded and her upper body explored with fingers and feathers. What amazed her captor was not just her ability to endure such punishment despite her obvious hypersensitivity but also her capacity to climax again and again despite her absolute agony. She did not even need to be tickled down there although her clit spent many a minute under the administrations of a fine paintbrush or soft feather.
Curious as to how much his prized tickle toy could take Irene was cunningly transferred to a kneeling set of stocks designed to make every ticklish spot vulnerable apart from the backs of her knees that had already been thoroughly explored.
In her new position Irene's pussy smouldered away. Her captor was a master and gently teased her labia and clit with a fine soft paintbrush until the orgasmic release she craved was tantalisingly close but kept skilfully out of reach. Hungry to torment all of his victim the cruel scarecrow brought forth a terrible wheel sporting two rows of feathers that teased Irene’s inner thighs and the terribly sensitive skin where thighs met her taint. Irene squirmed trying to get the feathers to wisp over her pussy being kept terribly on the precipice of an orgasm and forced to endure terrible tickling all over her hyper-sensitive body.
Irene was spared no torture as her underarms, sides and neck were softly and skilfully tickled. Both captor and victim knew that too much stimulation would push her over the edge into a howling, frenzied, red-faced primal release. The cruel man wanted to prolong her torment instead and began to apply the tuna oil to her soles;
"No not the cats again!" Irene wailed.
"Yes! Time for my kitties to feast on your soles..." The cruel man insisted.
He knew their coarse sand papery tongues would tickle his victim terribly, but also that Irene would respond with repulsion as well as laughter. This he knew from the face she pulled in the stocks when he first subjected her to ‘kitten torture’. Irene had previously been curious about having her soles licked, but now cats’ tongues were to be feared.
Irene’s torture in the kneeling device lasted for several hours. Cruelly her captor would explain to her precisely what he was going to do to her next until finally she reached the point of no return. Any stimulation would push Irene into the full release of an orgasm.
Naked apart from her blindfold and bonds Irene began to wail; "Noo Don't stop!" She desperately writhed, curling her toes against their toe-ties in an attempt to push her pink suffering soles into the evil blocks of ice that had been placed against them.
The ice blocks had been a master stroke. After enduring the cats her soles had once again been scrubbed, roasted and slapped before finally being subjected to two perfectly shaped blocks of ice that were placed against the red glowing skin, fitting perfectly into her arches and over the balls of her feet. There were even protrusions of ice to go between her toes.
“Tickles please!” Irene wailed as the roaring silence boomed against her need for orgasmic release.
“Ticket’s please!” The conductor asked again, looking down at the dreaming Asian sleeping beauty.
“Tickles please…” Irene murmured in her sleep.
The conductor shrugged and leant down trapping the Asian student’s ankles under his strong hands amongst the straw all over the blue fabric seat.
“If you say so miss!” He declared as he began to tickle her soft socked soles.
The reaction was unexpected and explosive, the conductor had just expected to tickle the silly girl awake and playfully chide her for putting her feet up on the seat as she giggled cutely. Instead the Asian beauty rocked and writhed in ecstasy, arching her back and crying a primal howl as his fingers stroked her soles. The conductor knew he should stop but something inside him made him carry on, he knew he could be fired for anything other than a playful poke but he scribbled his nails over the soft soles as the Asian student dig her nails into the train’s seat the scent of quim filing the carriage. Still half asleep she continued to beg to be tickled, the conductor’s eyes the same piercing blue as the terrible straw-man from her nightmare.
When Irene had finally finished climaxing the conductor apologised awkwardly, blinking;
“Sorry love, I thought you said ‘tickles please’, you see I said tickets please!” he was a confused and had a slight headache starting at the backs of his eyes.
Irene was slowly coming to her senses, now the conductor looked at her tickets with his soft kind brown eyes and moved on. Baffled and blushing Irene wondered what had happened to her; ‘when did she fall asleep?’
‘Have I missed my stop? Where am I?’
‘Was there really a man here at the start of my journey…’
These questions along with a thousand others assaulted her mind along with the terrible piercing blue eyes both the man from her nightmare and the conductor had briefly pierced her very soul with.
When she got home, exhausted and embarrassed her confusion only grew. Stripping off her grey socks her eyes were assaulted by the same bold black letters outlining every ticklish spot, only the characters in her native Korean did not read: ‘tickle-slut’… they read ‘tickle-queen’!!! Irene was cared and slipped into the shower eager to wash the torturous trip off of her.
Two days later Jenny screamed into her sock-gag. She had fallen into Irene’s trap hook, line and sinker! After the initial awkwardness and her trip out West, Irene had slowly warmed to her and then asked her to help study ‘tactile sensations’ in the Science lab’ after hours. With a little smile and feigned awkwardness Irene had seduced the voluptuous red-head and now had her tied down tightly to the old wooden table.
Jenny was terrified. It had only been ten minutes since Irene had kissed her and then overpowered her. Jenny wasn’t sure how Irene had got her stretched out and tied helplessly like this. She certainly wasn’t sure how Irene’s eyes now glowed bright blue! All she knew was that she was in trouble!
Stripped naked and tied helpless in a room no-one would use for hours Jenny screamed into the gag made out of her favourite socks: the yellow ones with the cats. She desperately hoped someone would hear her but her captor had chosen this room well, this old laboratory sometimes went months without ever even being used!
Jenny’s pale skin was ticklish, not as ticklish as Irene’s; but just give it some time with soapy water, scrubbing brushes and heat lamps. So far Jenny’s cruel captor had started with her feet, devising toe-ties from various lab’ equipment. But in time every inch of the voluptuous red-heads body would be teased, toyed with and tormented.
Jenny screamed and howled as Irene teased her nipples with soft feathers and brushes making her dark pink buds stiff and firm. This was just the start and after getting her victim’s nipples to bursting point the blue-eyed tickle-demon trapped each bud in a little clamp device, again developed from the old science equipment. Jenny didn’t think her ordeal could get any worse as her nipple clamps were used to pull her breasts up on fine cables, now the cruel clamps tugged on her nipples in response to any movement. But Jenny was wrong, her former crush had knowledge of ancient tortures more unbearable and devious than this.
The table Jenny was tied down to hand a sink built in to it just below her ass. As the possessed Asian beauty teased her victim she also set up the next device: A long springy metal bar sporting two feathers positioned perfectly to tickle Jenny’s smouldering pussy. It was a device of supreme cruelty; not only would it translate any movement into a soft touch in the Celtic Goddesses most sensitive region but it could be set in motion with a quick twang making it flicker up and down from the opposite edge of the sink. Jenny was close to climaxing despite her fear. She knew that the creature tormenting her was not poor gentle Irene, something in her bones knew that she was in the presence of an ancient terrible evil! She didn’t need to see the piercing blue eyes to know that! Jenny had dabbled in witchcraft, and cursed not listening noticing the change in her crush sooner.
What was more Jenny felt as if she knew what this evil spirit wanted, it didn’t just crave tickle-torturing her pale and tender yet strong body; it wanted in!
Jenny tried to resist but this demon wasn’t playing fair; Jenny was a tickle freak and would fantasize about being tickled and tickle torturing other women just like this. Jenny had met up with a few other tickle-philes; but had stuck to gentle-tickles, clothes on with no bondage. In the videos and stories Jenny loved there was extreme tickle-torture just like this! However being on the receiving end of such extreme tickle-torture was unbearable, the once shy Asian student was relentless moving between tickle-spots quickly and unpredictably until Jenny’s entire body was bright pink.
The vibrating feather device was the worst, it not only flickered back and forth but also cunningly drew Jenny’s juices back to the inner workings between the two feathers where some kind of contraption swelled pushing the two plumes out and away from Jenny’s engorged clit to flicker up and down over her hypersensitive undercarriage. The true cruelty of this contraption was that had the feathers remained zeroed in on Jenny’s swollen clit she would have climaxed long ago, instead she was kept on the very edge of an orgasm for half an hour as her juices kept the release she craved tantalisingly close yet out of reach. As she was teased Jenny’s pale tender skin was tormented from her elegant neck to her long toes trapped expertly in toe-ties. Finally the Celtic Goddess could take no more and howled through her sock-gag;
“PPPLEEEAFFFTH!!!! LEEEWWWTT… MMMMHHH… KKKKHHRRRMMM!...”
Sensing victory was imminent the evil spirit brought Irene’s lips close to Jenny’s ear and whispered;
“Okay my sweet! But when you do you are mine, together we shall roam this rock and find more ticklish women to torment. You shall watch powerless as those lovely sharp nails torment sole after sole, something I know you crave!”
“NNNNN HOOO!” Jenny wailed, terrible at the prospect of losing control to this ancient terrible evil.
Jenny’s former crush whirled a fine paintbrush, her blue eyes beaming a cruel unnatural light. The Celtic Goddess knew she was not at the mercy of her Asian crush but deliriously pleaded with Irene incomprehensibly through her gag. She wanted to grab the Asian beauty and kiss her but at the same time she somehow knew giving in to her sexual urges would lead to her being a prisoner in her own body the way Irene was now.
The evil spirit made Irene’s face smile to express its joy. It had only been a few days since it was swirling on the winds of this rock it had been banished too aeons ago. Some of the foolish apes had left a suitable vessel made of straw for it to corrupt and inhabit just long enough to transfer itself to one of their kind, now it had another to inoculate with its prodigy: and soon it would spawn hundreds of itself and rule this rock!
For now though it would satisfy itself by conquering the trembling mass of flesh stretched out on the table before it. Slowly the fine brush was lowered towards Jenny’s ravenous womanhood, the Celtic Goddess thrashed against her bonds making her entire body vibrate like a guitar string. And upon contact what sweet music was made the second the fine fronds of the brush stroked Jenny’s engorged clit her resistance melted and she exploded in an earth-shattering orgasm. She could feel her consciousness receding as her control melted and knew she was doomed. Still the pleasure coursed through her making her feel both powerful and powerless at the same time. When the powerful climax was over Jenny’s body should have slumped with her exhausted mind, instead her muscles tensed and flexed against their bonds her eyes closed in concentration as something explored the nerves and neurons of this new vessel. Jenny’s eyes opened revealing eyes that were no longer emerald green but piercing blue, glowing just like Irene’s.
“Welcome!” Irene said with a smile.
“Good to be here! Want to swap over and show me the ropes so we can tickle your one together!” Jenny’s voice answered.
The Celtic Goddess couldn’t believe it! Her ears heard her own voice but she had not tried to speak!
Within a few minutes Irene was tied naked to the table in the same manner Jenny had been. She screamed into a gag made of a plastic rubber ball and some duct tape and Jenny’s cruel nails traced her immobile feet the ingenious toe-ties keeping her soft arches taut for torture. She had fragmented memories of watching Jenny suffer under such cruel torture techniques. What exactly had happened Irene did not know, one moment she had been taking a shower and the she was tied naked and helpless on a warm wooden table damp with Jenny’s sweat and juices.
Flashes of memories howled at Irene. She recalled watching the torture devices be made by her own hands but had no idea when. Between her legs a similar device to the one that had broken Jenny flickered up and down on the cruel metal spring. This one sported four feathers that did not move but traced gently up and down whenever the flexible piece of metal was twanged by her captor. Two of the feathers proudly brushed against her inner thighs and undercarriage whilst the other two briskly breezed each of her pussy lips and labia in smooth yet unpredictable strokes.
Laughing as she tickled: Jenny’s possessed body tickled Irene’s from head to sensitive toe, already having intimate knowledge of every tickle spot. It took two of the evil spirits to subdued Jenny’s enraged consciousness that howled and thrashed, true she had the same desires as the cruel demons within her but she cared about Irene and knew this was way too much!
But it was too late! Within months the evil spirits would have corrupted thousands of human hosts, building a powerful business empire for their first two vessels, having watched humanity and its foibles since the foolish apes’ first tentative steps on this rock and knowing exactly how to exploit their vanity and their greed.
From the fortress of their business empire Jenny and Irene were powerless to watch as woman after woman laughed and pleaded with them for mercy from stocks, racks and cruelly ingenious bondage device designed to stretch them out helplessly for tickle-torture and orgasm denial. Irene and Jenny didn’t know it but this was to be their fate for decades, perhaps centuries: their bodies would age slower and be resistant to disease. But this was a source of little comfort as they would be spared no torture on the many occasions the spirits would abandon them for a temporary host, often the poor woman they had just tortured.
Sometimes only one of the primary hosts, sometimes both would wake up from the terrible nightmare of watching their bodies dish out sadistic torture to a new nightmare of being stretched out on a rack or some other device; the women they just tortured standing over them with bright blue glowing eyes ready to torture their soft hypersensitive bodies in the same manner the ancient spirits had just forced them to inflict.
Irene had no idea what lay before her that night stretched out on the table but she was terrified as the Celtic Goddess positioned electric toothbrushes between and every one of her toes as punishment for orgasm number one. Each of the evil bristled heads was secured in place with little clips and then switched on leaving the voluptuous red-head to torment Irene’s smooth underarms and neck with fingers and feathers.
‘How can this be!!!’ Irene thought as she screamed incoherently. A long night of torture awaiting her before lifetime of helplessly watching and enduring the same sadistic and scintillating scenes of depravity. Both Irene and humanity were weak, too weak to stop the ancient spirits on their sadistic rise to power. No pretty woman was to be spared, no pretty woman was safe!
