midrifftickler
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Here is part 3 of Chapter 10 of Dawn's Story. This one is a little longer than normal, but I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!
Chapter Beginnings
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise
Chapter 2: The Evil Box
Chapter 3: On the Run
Chapter 4: A New Paradise
Chapter 5: Tummy Testing
Chapter 6: Hidden Citizen
Chapter 7: Tummy Training
Chapter 8: Sessions and Reflections
Chapter 9: Full Citizen
Chapter 10: The Mistress
Chapter 11: Royals and Revelations
Chapter 12: The Rarest Reunion
Chapter 13: Novice Mistress
Chapter 14: Taking Control
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn
Previous Chapter
Chapter 10: The Mistress, Part 2
Dawn was a nervous wreck from the time she woke up Saturday. One long nightmare had her tied, tickled, and whipped by the Tickle Mistress, and it stayed with her until Cecelia roped her into a morning card game. By the end, Dawn had gotten the nightmare out of her mind, but she was still concerned about her visit.
Despite a full slate of nerves, as noon approached, Dawn found herself on the subway back to Wendy’s house, covered on her upper body by just a crop top and a bikini underneath. ‘I cannot admit anything if she doesn’t bring it up,’ Dawn vowed, determined to do whatever it took to stay free. ‘If I do, or if she already knows, I’ll be beaten and dragged back to the Tickle Slave Training Academy. I don’t even want to think about what they’ll do to me for my escape and four years of evasion. I have to act normal and hope tickle slavery never comes up.’
While walking, all alone, to the home of her future tormentor, Dawn recalled her mental conversation about other ticklers to replace Wendy. She decided that Cecelia could be her first tickler, so long as the tickling was not too effective; she was the most inexperienced out of everyone, despite years of practice on Dawn. Afterwards, her trio of best friends from home: Steph, Emilia, and Winona, with their friendliness in place to help counteract the harshness from the Tickle Mistress. Then it was going to be a toss-up between Jen, Lily, Betty, Myra, and the other Tummy Paradise ticklers, depending on what the mood called for. She still planned to reserve Connor for if the tickling felt like it was getting out of hand. He was the one person out of the bunch who was not ticklish, and she hoped that his non-ticklishness and the fact that he had grown to near perfection in her mind would eliminate any feeling of torture. Unfortunately, while thinking of her mental mulling from the prior day, she also recalled that if the sadistic training academy head decided to use pain, none of her friends, new or old, could protect her. She would need to improvise in that case, and she just hoped it would not come up.
Upon arriving at the high-class house, Dawn was greeted by Layla, who took her to Wendy in the living room. After greeting her guest and politely dismissing her tickle slave, the Tickle Mistress led Dawn to the dining room for lunch. Ava and Izzy, two other tickle slaves, brought out lasagna, and Dawn had to keep herself from panicking. Aside from a newfound appreciation for steak, lasagna had been Dawn’s favorite meal ever since Lily bought some for her first dinner with Cecelia. However, Wendy seemed to enjoy it just as much, and the guest eventually assumed that was the reason she had it made. “So, how was yesterday for you, Dawn?” Once all the tickle slaves had been out of sight for a while, Wendy initiated a conversation.
“It was fine,” Dawn replied, trying to keep her voice upbeat. She found this easier to do by focusing on the best part of the previous day, “It’s always a lot of fun working at Tummy Paradise. That’s probably been my dream job ever since I found out that it existed.”
“Wonderful, I’ve enjoyed visiting there a few times myself. Not as a ticklee, of course, but your workplace employs several people with tickleable tummies. I can’t resist making them squeal and squirm.”
“I know exactly what you mean; I have fun getting some of the other switches and ticklees, too.”
‘She’s saying that she can’t wait to tie me down and tickle my very tickleable tummy,’ Dawn reminded herself inside her head. ‘Now I really wish I hadn’t worn a crop top the last two times I came here.’ Outside, Dawn stayed calm as the conversation continued.
“I’ll have to visit there again sometime, maybe when Jen and Maddie decide they want another session with you,” Wendy stated. “Of course, I’ll probably go and tickle someone else. You enjoy being tickled, according to Jen and Maddie, and that’s not really my preferred ticklee type. In any case, I’ll have to make sure I go there, to show my appreciation of that lovely business.”
‘Lovely business? That’s an odd choice of words,’ Dawn twisted the words around in her head. ‘Does she know that Lily is involved in helping escaped tickle slaves? Is this meeting a trap to get me to admit that, too, since I was one of those escaped slaves?’
“Yes, it’s probably my favorite place on the island,” Dawn announced before rapidly turning the conversation away from her freedom-supporting workplace. “So, how was your Friday?”
“Oh, same old, same old,” the host shrugged. “Punishing tickle slaves when they really get out of line, preparing for an auction, basic Tickle Mistress tasks.” Whips and paddles appeared in Dawn’s mind, and she imagined herself in the place of a tickle slave being beaten by Wendy. Wanting to save herself from exposing her former status, she quickly imagined her old trio of best friends surrounding her, and the horrifying thought dissipated in an instant. “And once I got home, I went downstairs and made sure that my gallery was ready for you to come over. I have to confess, I don’t get guests interested in seeing it that often, so I don’t keep it up like I probably should.”
“Thanks; that makes me feel really special,” Dawn hooked onto the reason for her visit with genuine appreciation. “I’m just happy to be given the opportunity to look at a private collection. I’ve never had that chance before.”
“In that case, I’d be happy to introduce you to some of my friends with more extensive collections,” Wendy suggested. Dawn grew somewhat nervous, realizing that these other art collectors were probably also placed highly in the Tickle Cartel. Luckily, the Tickle Mistress almost immediately changed the subject. “Anyways, let’s save the art for later. You know that I normally have dinner with Jen and Maddie on Fridays, and they told me that you usually go out with your roommate during that time. Did you do anything fun after work last night?” Dawn began talking about card games, and the conversation devolved back into mundane topics for the rest of the meal.
Shortly after both host and guest finished eating, the Tickle Mistress asked, “Dawn, are you ready to go down to the gallery?”
“Absolutely,” Dawn answered. The meal talk had relaxed her some, but the mention of actually going to the gallery brought her worry back. She still had no idea if the art collection was real or if Wendy was about to take her straight into an ambush.
In spite of her concerns, Dawn dutifully followed her host near the stairs, where three tickle slaves were waiting. “Dawn, is it alright if Layla, Ava, and Izzy join us?” Wendy politely inquired. “They haven’t had a chance to look at my art in a while, and after I told them why you were coming, they were very interested.”
“Of course,” Dawn accepted, seeing apparent eagerness on all three faces.
It was not alright, not in the least. The fact that the Tickle Mistress was already bringing significant extra muscle along lent credence to the notion that she did not have a gallery at all. However, Dawn feared having to explain herself if she refused the tickle slaves’ accompaniment, and she still had not come up with a lie about why she hated seeing tickle slaves. The five headed downstairs, with Dawn following Wendy and the slaves behind her.
To the guest’s mild astonishment, after walking through a couple of rooms, there really was an entire room nearly full of art. Dawn knew that she would be tied and tickled before too long, but she decided to take advantage of any delay and headed for the first piece. While going through the artwork, the Tummy Paradise employee learned that Wendy was not exactly an avid art collector. There were a few pieces that she bought from friends, but the majority of the work in the room came from an art-obsessed former boss, who used to give her paintings out as gifts. The Tickle Mistress showed the most appreciation for these, and Dawn noticed that most of them had something to do with tickling, whether it was shown directly or referred to through tools or skin exposure. Although Dawn primarily enjoyed friendly ticklings, she could not help but admire the skill used to create the paintings in Wendy’s gallery.
Over one wonderful hour later, the group was nearing the final paintings when the Tickle Mistress made her move with two words, “Get her.” Before Dawn recognized the order, she was on the ground, hands tied behind her back and three women dogpiling the rest of her body. “Bring her to the room.” One of the slaves tied her ankles together, and then the three carefully carried her to a torture chamber next door to the art gallery. “Put her on the table and stretch her out.” Five more tickle slaves entered the room to help secure Dawn, and she figured that any resistance would be met with a whipping, so she cooperated.
While stretched out on an arching table, her abdomen pushed into the spotlight, the ticklish switch knew that her only option was to endure the tickle torture. She imagined all her friends, new and old, beside her again, opposite Wendy. ‘Everyone, you’ve got to give me your best ticklings to help make this easy to resist.’ Once she was fully restrained, Dawn stared at her inevitable tormentor, waiting for her to speak first.
“Since you didn’t fight or scream at all when they took you down and secured you, I guess you knew this was coming,” Wendy sighed and announced after letting Dawn stew for what felt like a lifetime, in reality maybe a minute. The tied ticklee did not move at the statement; she did not even bat an eye. The Tickle Mistress sighed again and continued, “Let’s be clear about why you are here: you don’t like me for some reason.”
“That’s not true!” Dawn vehemently denied before mentally kicking herself for speaking up.
“Yes, it is, and I wouldn’t be mad if you just disliked me in a vacuum,” Wendy allowed. “However, you dislike me for something to do with the Tickle Cartel, and given where we live, that’s a problem.”
“What?”
“I know you don’t like that I’m a Tickle Mistress. You were fine before Jen brought that up, but afterwards, you seemed terrified of me. You only spoke when spoken to, and you essentially never volunteered more information than was directly asked.”
“No, that’s not true. I don’t…”
“You don’t like that I’m a Tickle Mistress; that’s a fact,” Wendy dictated. When Dawn started to speak up again, she held up a hand, “No more arguments now or I’ll let them all loose on you.” The mistress gestured to her eight tickle slaves surrounding the table. “If for whatever reason, I actually was wrong about that, you’ll have a chance later to tell me. But for now, let’s just assume that you don’t like that I’m a Tickle Mistress. I want to know why.”
‘She cannot know; just pretend that you like that she’s a sadistic slave tormentor,’ Dawn tried to stay strong.
“There’s no reason because that dislike doesn’t exist,” Dawn retorted.
“We’ll see how you feel about that later,” Wendy allowed. “There’s another thing that you don’t like: my tickle slaves. Are you scared of them, or do you just not like them, or what? Why are you so uncomfortable when they’re around?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Fine, you’re clearly not going to talk right away,” the Tickle Mistress accepted. “That means that we’ve got two issues to get through: you not liking that I’m a Tickle Mistress and you not liking my tickle slaves. Unfortunately for you, I know just how to get answers out of people like you.” Whips and chains appeared in Dawn’s mind yet again, and she shuddered. “Maybe you know it already, but I’ll clue you in on a secret I’ve learned through working with tickle slaves for years: As long as a subject is ticklish, she can be broken by tickling. That applies to every ticklish person, even someone who normally enjoys being tickled, like you. Sometimes it’s a certain spot that breaks them, sometimes it’s a tool, sometimes you just need to keep the tickling up. Sometimes it’s a combination. In any case, it’s possible to break any ticklee and make them answer any question. Now that you know that fact, Dawn, you have two choices. We’re going to start with me being a Tickle Mistress. Either you tell me why you don’t like that, or I promise that I will find out your weakness and exploit it to the fullest extent.”
Wendy let the threat sink in, staring at Dawn while the ticklee stared back. ‘If all she’s got is tickling, no whips or anything like that, she won’t break me,’ Dawn kept confidence in her tickling resistance. ‘I love being tickled too much, and there’s nothing that this monster can do to change that. Even if I don’t love how I’m getting tickled by her, I can just imagine that one of my friends is tickling me. There is no chance that she can break me. I am stronger than her. I survived the tickle machine taking me to tickle slavery; a mere human tickler will be nothing compared to that. No matter how much experience she has.’
After staring silently for several mental minutes, the Tickle Mistress blinked first and relaxed her look, “However, I’d much prefer to do things the easy way. You can give me an honest answer at any time, and I’ll get you out of there. Even now, and we won’t have to do this at all.” Dawn stayed steadfast in her refusal to speak, and Wendy finally accepted it. “As you wish, Dawn; I’ll tickle you. Remember that my offer will stand, even during a tickling. You tell me why you don’t like my job, and the tickling stops, and you get out of there.”
Dawn looked straight at her captor until ten nails surprisingly skittered up her soles. With a squeal and then a stream of giggles, the ticklee’s eyes darted down towards the source of her torment. One of the tickle slaves, she thought Izzy, was standing at the foot of the table. Since her back was arched, Dawn could not be sure, but it appeared that Izzy was her tickler. The tickle slave went from soles to toes and back, appearing to be more interested in warming Dawn up than actually delivering on the tickle torture Wendy had promised.
After identifying her tickler, the ticklee looked up to the Tickle Mistress. “You didn’t think I was going to be the only one tickling you, did you?” Dawn did not have a knee-jerk answer for this, so she continued giggling. Shortly afterwards, Izzy began to randomize her tickling, frequently switching spots to gain and then hold the prisoner’s attention. The foot tickling continued like this for maybe five minutes, during which Dawn never let out more than giggles. “Alright, Izzy, that’s good,” Wendy commanded the fingernails off her captive’s bare feet, and the ticklee looked the Tickle Mistress in the eyes again.
“Dawn, I’m assuming that as an employee of Tummy Paradise, you’re familiar with the nerve sensitizing properties of Tingly Torso lotion?” The evil executive held up a bottle in one of her now gloved hands.
The answer to the question was, of course, yes; Tummy Paradise required the lotion to be on all ticklee and switch employees during sessions. Dawn, for her part, loved the stomach sensitizer more than most of her fellow ticklees and switches. She rubbed two coats of it into her midriff every weekday morning, to make sure no spot was left uncovered. Even on the weekends, she applied a single layer just to be prepared in case someone wanted to tickle her best spot. This morning had been the only one in a long time that she had not used the lotion, hoping that her most ticklish spot would be just a little less sensitive when Wendy tickled it. So much for that. The presence of rubber gloves on the captor’s hands, however, took the professional switch off-guard. Tingly Torso lotion did nothing to hands, nor any other non-belly body part. Wendy had a shirt over her midsection, so there was no tickle-based reason for her to be extra protective. Maybe she just did not like the feel of the lotion.
“Well, since you aren’t going to say anything, I might as well get this started,” Wendy declared as she poured some lotion onto a gloved hand. The slave trainer rubbed a thick layer of sensitizer into the entirety of Dawn’s midsection, not leaving out any part of the already sensitive abdomen. Despite her best efforts, the ticklee squeaked out some laughter when her bellybutton was touched by the massaging hands. Her tormentor did not react, simply continuing to rub the lotion in and only addressing Dawn when she finished, “Want to talk now? I’ll free you, and you can wash the lotion off.”
‘If she thinks Tingly Torso lotion is supposed to intimidate me, she clearly doesn’t know much about Tummy Paradise,’ Dawn internally proclaimed, as her mouth stayed shut. ‘I get more of this on me before half-hour bellybutton-only sessions, and I love those.’
“Alright,” the only speaker for the last several minutes accepted, and one of the other tickle slaves began tickling the ribs right above where the lotion had been rubbed. Dawn did not recognize this slave, but she decided to conserve her energy instead of finding out her tickler’s identity. Although more ticklish than her feet, her ribs were not a bad spot, and she simply laughed lightly throughout the entire tickling. This tickle slave worked more routinely than Izzy, simply going up and down the ribcage and not attempting to catch Dawn off guard. She dug into the skin a little more to get at the sensitive muscles, but luckily, it did not hurt. Overall, the tickling was not great, and it was not bad. Dawn knew the tickle slave’s real purpose was to warm her up for a more intense belly tickle torture later, and she served that purpose well.
“Brandy, you can stop,” Wendy stopped the tickles after a few minutes, returning the ticklee’s glare to her. “Feel like talking, Dawn?” she inquired, pouring another big glob of Tingly Torso lotion onto her palm. The conversation stayed one-sided, and another large layer of lotion covered Dawn’s abdomen. “Anything?”
The next tickle slave did not give the ticklee much time to consider answering before tickling on her upper legs. Not that it would have mattered; Dawn was resolute in her refusal to talk. Once the thigh tickles commenced, the captive looked to see Layla looming over her legs. She was close enough, and her arms were pointing in the correct direction, so Dawn assumed that she was the tickler this time. As it turned out, the thigh, and later knee, tickling was a mixture of the most boring aspects of the foot and rib ticklings. Layla tickled up and down, the same as how Brandy worked on her ribs, and Dawn did not raise her voice above a giggle, similar to Izzy’s foot tickles. Once again, the tickles came and went without any real effect on the ticklee, who simply relaxed and let her body offer minimal reactions.
“Layla,” the Tickle Mistress addressed her slave once again, and the tickles stopped. An opportunity for Dawn to speak up, an application of Tingly Torso lotion, and another chance to talk passed like clockwork.
Since the prisoner stayed quiet, a tickle slave reached into the short sleeves of the captive’s crop top and began teasing her armpits. Dawn only had to strain her neck upwards a tiny bit to see that Ava was her tickler now. Without much skin to target, the slave either ran her fingers in circles around the pits or wiggled them in the center. The ticklee remained unbothered by the tickling under her arms, snickering as she had with the other mildly sensitive areas.
However, during Ava’s turn as tickler, Dawn’s attention was robbed from the tickle slave. Something began touching her stomach, and the ticklee felt it begin twitching. Almost instantly, she looked at her arched abdomen, only to see that there was nothing near it. Nevertheless, the feeling persisted, eventually transitioning into a feather-like sensation. Dawn felt laughter bubble up inside her throat, and she fought to contain her reaction to giggles. Despite initially succeeding at suppressing her verbal reaction, since the sensation was still light, the midsection could not hold out against the unexplainable ticklish feeling. It attempted to jerk around: side to side, front to back, up and down, in any and all directions at once. Of course, the tickle slaves had bound her very tightly, and her attempts at movement only amounted in constant, panicked twitching.
Dawn finally had the courage to look up at Wendy, who was observing her midriff’s movement with a malicious smile. The Tickle Mistress caught her captive’s eye, and she cast a knowing grin over to the ticklee. Unnerved at the mystery tummy tickles, Dawn’s defenses slipped, and she let out a few laughs before regaining control. Apparently, that was enough for the slave trainer, who ordered, “Ava, time’s up.”
The armpit tickling ended, but the professional switch continued to giggle from the unending tickles on her worst spot. “How do you like this Tingly Torso lotion?” Wendy stepped up and placed a gloved palm on the arched abdomen.
“Wha-ha-ha-ha-ha-hat i-hi-hi-hi-s thi-his?” Dawn needed to know, even if it required her to giggle out the inquiry.
“I mixed in a decent dose of slow-acting tickle powder with the lotion,” the Tickle Mistress explained, causing Dawn’s eyes to go wide and her laughter to increase. “It needed some time to get settled, but you’ll be laughing for a while now. Unless, of course, you decide to tell me why you don’t like my job as a Tickle Mistress. In that case, I could get that out of your system in an instant. What do you say? Ready to talk?”
Giving in never seriously crossed Dawn’s mind. If she told the truth, there would be no mercy. The tickle powder would stay on, and her tormentor may even be inclined to add more of the modified lotion. Plus, after the tickling stopped, there would surely be a whipping punishment for the four-year-old escape. “NOHOHOHOHOHO!” Dawn verbally refused, laughing harder as she felt a large concentration of the tickle powder’s feathering on her outie.
“Have it your way,” Wendy calmly dictated, raising both hands and wiggling her fingers above the exposed and sensitized stomach. “It’s about time I got personally involved in extracting an answer from you.”
Next Chapter
Chapter 10: The Mistress, Part 4
Chapter Beginnings
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise
Chapter 2: The Evil Box
Chapter 3: On the Run
Chapter 4: A New Paradise
Chapter 5: Tummy Testing
Chapter 6: Hidden Citizen
Chapter 7: Tummy Training
Chapter 8: Sessions and Reflections
Chapter 9: Full Citizen
Chapter 10: The Mistress
Chapter 11: Royals and Revelations
Chapter 12: The Rarest Reunion
Chapter 13: Novice Mistress
Chapter 14: Taking Control
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn
Previous Chapter
Chapter 10: The Mistress, Part 2
Dawn was a nervous wreck from the time she woke up Saturday. One long nightmare had her tied, tickled, and whipped by the Tickle Mistress, and it stayed with her until Cecelia roped her into a morning card game. By the end, Dawn had gotten the nightmare out of her mind, but she was still concerned about her visit.
Despite a full slate of nerves, as noon approached, Dawn found herself on the subway back to Wendy’s house, covered on her upper body by just a crop top and a bikini underneath. ‘I cannot admit anything if she doesn’t bring it up,’ Dawn vowed, determined to do whatever it took to stay free. ‘If I do, or if she already knows, I’ll be beaten and dragged back to the Tickle Slave Training Academy. I don’t even want to think about what they’ll do to me for my escape and four years of evasion. I have to act normal and hope tickle slavery never comes up.’
While walking, all alone, to the home of her future tormentor, Dawn recalled her mental conversation about other ticklers to replace Wendy. She decided that Cecelia could be her first tickler, so long as the tickling was not too effective; she was the most inexperienced out of everyone, despite years of practice on Dawn. Afterwards, her trio of best friends from home: Steph, Emilia, and Winona, with their friendliness in place to help counteract the harshness from the Tickle Mistress. Then it was going to be a toss-up between Jen, Lily, Betty, Myra, and the other Tummy Paradise ticklers, depending on what the mood called for. She still planned to reserve Connor for if the tickling felt like it was getting out of hand. He was the one person out of the bunch who was not ticklish, and she hoped that his non-ticklishness and the fact that he had grown to near perfection in her mind would eliminate any feeling of torture. Unfortunately, while thinking of her mental mulling from the prior day, she also recalled that if the sadistic training academy head decided to use pain, none of her friends, new or old, could protect her. She would need to improvise in that case, and she just hoped it would not come up.
Upon arriving at the high-class house, Dawn was greeted by Layla, who took her to Wendy in the living room. After greeting her guest and politely dismissing her tickle slave, the Tickle Mistress led Dawn to the dining room for lunch. Ava and Izzy, two other tickle slaves, brought out lasagna, and Dawn had to keep herself from panicking. Aside from a newfound appreciation for steak, lasagna had been Dawn’s favorite meal ever since Lily bought some for her first dinner with Cecelia. However, Wendy seemed to enjoy it just as much, and the guest eventually assumed that was the reason she had it made. “So, how was yesterday for you, Dawn?” Once all the tickle slaves had been out of sight for a while, Wendy initiated a conversation.
“It was fine,” Dawn replied, trying to keep her voice upbeat. She found this easier to do by focusing on the best part of the previous day, “It’s always a lot of fun working at Tummy Paradise. That’s probably been my dream job ever since I found out that it existed.”
“Wonderful, I’ve enjoyed visiting there a few times myself. Not as a ticklee, of course, but your workplace employs several people with tickleable tummies. I can’t resist making them squeal and squirm.”
“I know exactly what you mean; I have fun getting some of the other switches and ticklees, too.”
‘She’s saying that she can’t wait to tie me down and tickle my very tickleable tummy,’ Dawn reminded herself inside her head. ‘Now I really wish I hadn’t worn a crop top the last two times I came here.’ Outside, Dawn stayed calm as the conversation continued.
“I’ll have to visit there again sometime, maybe when Jen and Maddie decide they want another session with you,” Wendy stated. “Of course, I’ll probably go and tickle someone else. You enjoy being tickled, according to Jen and Maddie, and that’s not really my preferred ticklee type. In any case, I’ll have to make sure I go there, to show my appreciation of that lovely business.”
‘Lovely business? That’s an odd choice of words,’ Dawn twisted the words around in her head. ‘Does she know that Lily is involved in helping escaped tickle slaves? Is this meeting a trap to get me to admit that, too, since I was one of those escaped slaves?’
“Yes, it’s probably my favorite place on the island,” Dawn announced before rapidly turning the conversation away from her freedom-supporting workplace. “So, how was your Friday?”
“Oh, same old, same old,” the host shrugged. “Punishing tickle slaves when they really get out of line, preparing for an auction, basic Tickle Mistress tasks.” Whips and paddles appeared in Dawn’s mind, and she imagined herself in the place of a tickle slave being beaten by Wendy. Wanting to save herself from exposing her former status, she quickly imagined her old trio of best friends surrounding her, and the horrifying thought dissipated in an instant. “And once I got home, I went downstairs and made sure that my gallery was ready for you to come over. I have to confess, I don’t get guests interested in seeing it that often, so I don’t keep it up like I probably should.”
“Thanks; that makes me feel really special,” Dawn hooked onto the reason for her visit with genuine appreciation. “I’m just happy to be given the opportunity to look at a private collection. I’ve never had that chance before.”
“In that case, I’d be happy to introduce you to some of my friends with more extensive collections,” Wendy suggested. Dawn grew somewhat nervous, realizing that these other art collectors were probably also placed highly in the Tickle Cartel. Luckily, the Tickle Mistress almost immediately changed the subject. “Anyways, let’s save the art for later. You know that I normally have dinner with Jen and Maddie on Fridays, and they told me that you usually go out with your roommate during that time. Did you do anything fun after work last night?” Dawn began talking about card games, and the conversation devolved back into mundane topics for the rest of the meal.
Shortly after both host and guest finished eating, the Tickle Mistress asked, “Dawn, are you ready to go down to the gallery?”
“Absolutely,” Dawn answered. The meal talk had relaxed her some, but the mention of actually going to the gallery brought her worry back. She still had no idea if the art collection was real or if Wendy was about to take her straight into an ambush.
In spite of her concerns, Dawn dutifully followed her host near the stairs, where three tickle slaves were waiting. “Dawn, is it alright if Layla, Ava, and Izzy join us?” Wendy politely inquired. “They haven’t had a chance to look at my art in a while, and after I told them why you were coming, they were very interested.”
“Of course,” Dawn accepted, seeing apparent eagerness on all three faces.
It was not alright, not in the least. The fact that the Tickle Mistress was already bringing significant extra muscle along lent credence to the notion that she did not have a gallery at all. However, Dawn feared having to explain herself if she refused the tickle slaves’ accompaniment, and she still had not come up with a lie about why she hated seeing tickle slaves. The five headed downstairs, with Dawn following Wendy and the slaves behind her.
To the guest’s mild astonishment, after walking through a couple of rooms, there really was an entire room nearly full of art. Dawn knew that she would be tied and tickled before too long, but she decided to take advantage of any delay and headed for the first piece. While going through the artwork, the Tummy Paradise employee learned that Wendy was not exactly an avid art collector. There were a few pieces that she bought from friends, but the majority of the work in the room came from an art-obsessed former boss, who used to give her paintings out as gifts. The Tickle Mistress showed the most appreciation for these, and Dawn noticed that most of them had something to do with tickling, whether it was shown directly or referred to through tools or skin exposure. Although Dawn primarily enjoyed friendly ticklings, she could not help but admire the skill used to create the paintings in Wendy’s gallery.
Over one wonderful hour later, the group was nearing the final paintings when the Tickle Mistress made her move with two words, “Get her.” Before Dawn recognized the order, she was on the ground, hands tied behind her back and three women dogpiling the rest of her body. “Bring her to the room.” One of the slaves tied her ankles together, and then the three carefully carried her to a torture chamber next door to the art gallery. “Put her on the table and stretch her out.” Five more tickle slaves entered the room to help secure Dawn, and she figured that any resistance would be met with a whipping, so she cooperated.
While stretched out on an arching table, her abdomen pushed into the spotlight, the ticklish switch knew that her only option was to endure the tickle torture. She imagined all her friends, new and old, beside her again, opposite Wendy. ‘Everyone, you’ve got to give me your best ticklings to help make this easy to resist.’ Once she was fully restrained, Dawn stared at her inevitable tormentor, waiting for her to speak first.
“Since you didn’t fight or scream at all when they took you down and secured you, I guess you knew this was coming,” Wendy sighed and announced after letting Dawn stew for what felt like a lifetime, in reality maybe a minute. The tied ticklee did not move at the statement; she did not even bat an eye. The Tickle Mistress sighed again and continued, “Let’s be clear about why you are here: you don’t like me for some reason.”
“That’s not true!” Dawn vehemently denied before mentally kicking herself for speaking up.
“Yes, it is, and I wouldn’t be mad if you just disliked me in a vacuum,” Wendy allowed. “However, you dislike me for something to do with the Tickle Cartel, and given where we live, that’s a problem.”
“What?”
“I know you don’t like that I’m a Tickle Mistress. You were fine before Jen brought that up, but afterwards, you seemed terrified of me. You only spoke when spoken to, and you essentially never volunteered more information than was directly asked.”
“No, that’s not true. I don’t…”
“You don’t like that I’m a Tickle Mistress; that’s a fact,” Wendy dictated. When Dawn started to speak up again, she held up a hand, “No more arguments now or I’ll let them all loose on you.” The mistress gestured to her eight tickle slaves surrounding the table. “If for whatever reason, I actually was wrong about that, you’ll have a chance later to tell me. But for now, let’s just assume that you don’t like that I’m a Tickle Mistress. I want to know why.”
‘She cannot know; just pretend that you like that she’s a sadistic slave tormentor,’ Dawn tried to stay strong.
“There’s no reason because that dislike doesn’t exist,” Dawn retorted.
“We’ll see how you feel about that later,” Wendy allowed. “There’s another thing that you don’t like: my tickle slaves. Are you scared of them, or do you just not like them, or what? Why are you so uncomfortable when they’re around?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Fine, you’re clearly not going to talk right away,” the Tickle Mistress accepted. “That means that we’ve got two issues to get through: you not liking that I’m a Tickle Mistress and you not liking my tickle slaves. Unfortunately for you, I know just how to get answers out of people like you.” Whips and chains appeared in Dawn’s mind yet again, and she shuddered. “Maybe you know it already, but I’ll clue you in on a secret I’ve learned through working with tickle slaves for years: As long as a subject is ticklish, she can be broken by tickling. That applies to every ticklish person, even someone who normally enjoys being tickled, like you. Sometimes it’s a certain spot that breaks them, sometimes it’s a tool, sometimes you just need to keep the tickling up. Sometimes it’s a combination. In any case, it’s possible to break any ticklee and make them answer any question. Now that you know that fact, Dawn, you have two choices. We’re going to start with me being a Tickle Mistress. Either you tell me why you don’t like that, or I promise that I will find out your weakness and exploit it to the fullest extent.”
Wendy let the threat sink in, staring at Dawn while the ticklee stared back. ‘If all she’s got is tickling, no whips or anything like that, she won’t break me,’ Dawn kept confidence in her tickling resistance. ‘I love being tickled too much, and there’s nothing that this monster can do to change that. Even if I don’t love how I’m getting tickled by her, I can just imagine that one of my friends is tickling me. There is no chance that she can break me. I am stronger than her. I survived the tickle machine taking me to tickle slavery; a mere human tickler will be nothing compared to that. No matter how much experience she has.’
After staring silently for several mental minutes, the Tickle Mistress blinked first and relaxed her look, “However, I’d much prefer to do things the easy way. You can give me an honest answer at any time, and I’ll get you out of there. Even now, and we won’t have to do this at all.” Dawn stayed steadfast in her refusal to speak, and Wendy finally accepted it. “As you wish, Dawn; I’ll tickle you. Remember that my offer will stand, even during a tickling. You tell me why you don’t like my job, and the tickling stops, and you get out of there.”
Dawn looked straight at her captor until ten nails surprisingly skittered up her soles. With a squeal and then a stream of giggles, the ticklee’s eyes darted down towards the source of her torment. One of the tickle slaves, she thought Izzy, was standing at the foot of the table. Since her back was arched, Dawn could not be sure, but it appeared that Izzy was her tickler. The tickle slave went from soles to toes and back, appearing to be more interested in warming Dawn up than actually delivering on the tickle torture Wendy had promised.
After identifying her tickler, the ticklee looked up to the Tickle Mistress. “You didn’t think I was going to be the only one tickling you, did you?” Dawn did not have a knee-jerk answer for this, so she continued giggling. Shortly afterwards, Izzy began to randomize her tickling, frequently switching spots to gain and then hold the prisoner’s attention. The foot tickling continued like this for maybe five minutes, during which Dawn never let out more than giggles. “Alright, Izzy, that’s good,” Wendy commanded the fingernails off her captive’s bare feet, and the ticklee looked the Tickle Mistress in the eyes again.
“Dawn, I’m assuming that as an employee of Tummy Paradise, you’re familiar with the nerve sensitizing properties of Tingly Torso lotion?” The evil executive held up a bottle in one of her now gloved hands.
The answer to the question was, of course, yes; Tummy Paradise required the lotion to be on all ticklee and switch employees during sessions. Dawn, for her part, loved the stomach sensitizer more than most of her fellow ticklees and switches. She rubbed two coats of it into her midriff every weekday morning, to make sure no spot was left uncovered. Even on the weekends, she applied a single layer just to be prepared in case someone wanted to tickle her best spot. This morning had been the only one in a long time that she had not used the lotion, hoping that her most ticklish spot would be just a little less sensitive when Wendy tickled it. So much for that. The presence of rubber gloves on the captor’s hands, however, took the professional switch off-guard. Tingly Torso lotion did nothing to hands, nor any other non-belly body part. Wendy had a shirt over her midsection, so there was no tickle-based reason for her to be extra protective. Maybe she just did not like the feel of the lotion.
“Well, since you aren’t going to say anything, I might as well get this started,” Wendy declared as she poured some lotion onto a gloved hand. The slave trainer rubbed a thick layer of sensitizer into the entirety of Dawn’s midsection, not leaving out any part of the already sensitive abdomen. Despite her best efforts, the ticklee squeaked out some laughter when her bellybutton was touched by the massaging hands. Her tormentor did not react, simply continuing to rub the lotion in and only addressing Dawn when she finished, “Want to talk now? I’ll free you, and you can wash the lotion off.”
‘If she thinks Tingly Torso lotion is supposed to intimidate me, she clearly doesn’t know much about Tummy Paradise,’ Dawn internally proclaimed, as her mouth stayed shut. ‘I get more of this on me before half-hour bellybutton-only sessions, and I love those.’
“Alright,” the only speaker for the last several minutes accepted, and one of the other tickle slaves began tickling the ribs right above where the lotion had been rubbed. Dawn did not recognize this slave, but she decided to conserve her energy instead of finding out her tickler’s identity. Although more ticklish than her feet, her ribs were not a bad spot, and she simply laughed lightly throughout the entire tickling. This tickle slave worked more routinely than Izzy, simply going up and down the ribcage and not attempting to catch Dawn off guard. She dug into the skin a little more to get at the sensitive muscles, but luckily, it did not hurt. Overall, the tickling was not great, and it was not bad. Dawn knew the tickle slave’s real purpose was to warm her up for a more intense belly tickle torture later, and she served that purpose well.
“Brandy, you can stop,” Wendy stopped the tickles after a few minutes, returning the ticklee’s glare to her. “Feel like talking, Dawn?” she inquired, pouring another big glob of Tingly Torso lotion onto her palm. The conversation stayed one-sided, and another large layer of lotion covered Dawn’s abdomen. “Anything?”
The next tickle slave did not give the ticklee much time to consider answering before tickling on her upper legs. Not that it would have mattered; Dawn was resolute in her refusal to talk. Once the thigh tickles commenced, the captive looked to see Layla looming over her legs. She was close enough, and her arms were pointing in the correct direction, so Dawn assumed that she was the tickler this time. As it turned out, the thigh, and later knee, tickling was a mixture of the most boring aspects of the foot and rib ticklings. Layla tickled up and down, the same as how Brandy worked on her ribs, and Dawn did not raise her voice above a giggle, similar to Izzy’s foot tickles. Once again, the tickles came and went without any real effect on the ticklee, who simply relaxed and let her body offer minimal reactions.
“Layla,” the Tickle Mistress addressed her slave once again, and the tickles stopped. An opportunity for Dawn to speak up, an application of Tingly Torso lotion, and another chance to talk passed like clockwork.
Since the prisoner stayed quiet, a tickle slave reached into the short sleeves of the captive’s crop top and began teasing her armpits. Dawn only had to strain her neck upwards a tiny bit to see that Ava was her tickler now. Without much skin to target, the slave either ran her fingers in circles around the pits or wiggled them in the center. The ticklee remained unbothered by the tickling under her arms, snickering as she had with the other mildly sensitive areas.
However, during Ava’s turn as tickler, Dawn’s attention was robbed from the tickle slave. Something began touching her stomach, and the ticklee felt it begin twitching. Almost instantly, she looked at her arched abdomen, only to see that there was nothing near it. Nevertheless, the feeling persisted, eventually transitioning into a feather-like sensation. Dawn felt laughter bubble up inside her throat, and she fought to contain her reaction to giggles. Despite initially succeeding at suppressing her verbal reaction, since the sensation was still light, the midsection could not hold out against the unexplainable ticklish feeling. It attempted to jerk around: side to side, front to back, up and down, in any and all directions at once. Of course, the tickle slaves had bound her very tightly, and her attempts at movement only amounted in constant, panicked twitching.
Dawn finally had the courage to look up at Wendy, who was observing her midriff’s movement with a malicious smile. The Tickle Mistress caught her captive’s eye, and she cast a knowing grin over to the ticklee. Unnerved at the mystery tummy tickles, Dawn’s defenses slipped, and she let out a few laughs before regaining control. Apparently, that was enough for the slave trainer, who ordered, “Ava, time’s up.”
The armpit tickling ended, but the professional switch continued to giggle from the unending tickles on her worst spot. “How do you like this Tingly Torso lotion?” Wendy stepped up and placed a gloved palm on the arched abdomen.
“Wha-ha-ha-ha-ha-hat i-hi-hi-hi-s thi-his?” Dawn needed to know, even if it required her to giggle out the inquiry.
“I mixed in a decent dose of slow-acting tickle powder with the lotion,” the Tickle Mistress explained, causing Dawn’s eyes to go wide and her laughter to increase. “It needed some time to get settled, but you’ll be laughing for a while now. Unless, of course, you decide to tell me why you don’t like my job as a Tickle Mistress. In that case, I could get that out of your system in an instant. What do you say? Ready to talk?”
Giving in never seriously crossed Dawn’s mind. If she told the truth, there would be no mercy. The tickle powder would stay on, and her tormentor may even be inclined to add more of the modified lotion. Plus, after the tickling stopped, there would surely be a whipping punishment for the four-year-old escape. “NOHOHOHOHOHO!” Dawn verbally refused, laughing harder as she felt a large concentration of the tickle powder’s feathering on her outie.
“Have it your way,” Wendy calmly dictated, raising both hands and wiggling her fingers above the exposed and sensitized stomach. “It’s about time I got personally involved in extracting an answer from you.”
Next Chapter
Chapter 10: The Mistress, Part 4
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