commish729
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I walked with my friend Chloe towards the entrance for the renaissance festival. We had been best friends throughout high school and were now a month into our senior year. We were very similar in stature, medium height and slender, in good shape from a summer of soccer. That was where the similarity ended. I had light brown hair and my skin still held much of the tan I had acquired over the summer, where Chloe was dark haired and any tan her fair skin had seen over the summer was gone. We had both turned eighteen the week before and were looking for something fun to do in celebration. Someone had mentioned this festival and we thought it sounded like it could be fun so we thought w would give it a shot. The temperature was in the upper 50s and I had worn a high school sweatshirt that barely covered the t-shirt I had tucked into my tight jogging pants. Chloe was dressed the same, only she had on a shorter t-shirt under her sweatshirt and I could see a sliver of pale skin between her sweatshirt and jogging pants
We were walking through the festival grounds, enjoying all the sights, smells and sounds around us when we heard laughter coming from a small group of people off to one side, so we walked closer to investigate, and what we found was a young man around our age being tickle tortured. I don’t know about Chloe, but I was a little surprised because I had never seen anything like this before, but we had heard these festivals could be a little wild. The young man was sitting on a wooden bench with his hands tied up over his head. His feet were locked in a set of stocks at the foot of the bench and his shoes had been removed. A couple of men dressed in the renaissance era costumes were tickling his feet. One had pulled the toes back on his left foot, stretching the sole while scribbling against it with his fingers. The other was working a feather quill between the toes on his right foot. The men would occasionally switch to tickling his sides, but his feet received most of the attention. This continued on and off for several minutes before he was finally released. We watched as he slowly walked away, looking very tired from what he had endured.
One of the men looked at the group of people assembled and shouted out “Who else has dared to disobey the King’s rules?”. I looked around the crowd, wondering who would volunteer to be next when Chloe stepped behind me shoved me out into the open. “Aha!” said the man as he and his accomplice hurried in my direction. I turned to run away, but the crowd would not separate to let me through and within seconds the men had both grabbed onto an arm and were forcing me to walk towards a tall podium at the other end of the opening, behind which stood a middle-aged man with a really ugly wig. He had in his hand a gavel and I guessed him to be portraying a judge of some kind. “So, you are the one” he exclaimed. “Do you confess? Do so now and I will show mercy”. “Confess to what?” I asked. “You know what!” he answered. “Do you confess?” he asked again. “How can I confess if I do not know what you think I have done.” I replied. “She refuses to answer truthfully” he exclaimed to the crowd. “We will get the answer we want our way. Take her away!” The two men again grabbed on to me and pulled me across the open area towards the bench with the stocks. I knew what was ahead of me but I wasn’t very worried. I rarely wore shoes when not needed and the bottoms of my feet were pretty tough. Chloe had tried tickling them in the past with little success.
I slowed down as we approached the stocks, only to be pushed ahead as we walked past the stocks towards a different apparatus. As we drew nearer, I could see it was a torture rack, similar to what I had seen in various horror movies. I became a little more nervous as we reached our destination. There was another man waiting there and with no hesitation the three of them were able to lift me up and lay me face up on the rack. I tried putting up a little bit of a struggle, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good, and a nervous “oh no” came from me as I waited to see what would happen. One of the men who had dragged me over placed my ankles into the stocks while the other two wrapped leather cuffs around my wrists. I felt the man at my feet removing my shoes at the same time as the wheel at the head of the rack started turning. Ropes were attached to the leather cuffs, and I could feel my arms slowly being pulled up over my head as the wheel turned. I was now more worried about what was going to happen as I was slowly stretched out and I became more wary of how helpless I was. Eventually, the wheel stopped turning, but not before my arms were pulled tight. I felt a cool breeze around my midsection and guessed that my sweatshirt had pulled up a few inches, making me all the more glad that I had my t-shirt tucked into my pants.
My socks and shoes had been removed and I could feel the breeze blowing across my bare feet. “The interrogation will begin!” the one man announced. I immediately felt fingers moving across the soles of my feet and while it did tickle a little, it was easily tolerable and I laughed a little, as much because of my situation as from the tickling. After a few seconds one of the men moved up to the toes of my right foot, using a feather to tickle all around my toes in hopes of getting a better reaction. It did tickle a little more, but still not too bad. The man at the head of rack tried tickling my underarms, but his fingers had a hard time getting through the thick fabric of the sweatshirt. After a couple of minutes the tickling slowed and I was hoping it was over when I heard Chloe’s voice shout out “She hates having her belly tickled!”. My breath caught in my throat and my heart started pounding because what she had said was true. I had always hated having my belly tickled, since I was a little girl. Chloe only knew this because she had once poked my belly when we were sitting next to a pool in our bikinis. I had screamed out loud and Chloe stopped because we surrounded by strangers and didn’t want to cause a scene.
One of the men stayed at my feet, determined to get a better reaction, while the other two approached my sides. One of them pulled my sweatshirt up even further and began poking at my ribs while the other began probing the area above my bellybutton. The combination of these two got more of the reaction that the men were looking for as I began laughing harder. The ribs were bad, but the worst part was the man tickling my stomach through the t-shirt. For whatever reason, this area had always been the worst when it came to tickling. The man that was tickling my ribs must have sensed that the other man was having more luck so he also moved to my stomach and in unison they began a more intense tickling, digging their fingers into the area between my bellybutton and my hips, at least as far as the waist on my pants would let them. I now began laughing out loud and tried to beg for mercy, but any attempt to talk was fruitless as the fingers dug into my stomach. I had no way of knowing it, but the situation was getting worse because tickling was slowly pulling my t-shirt up and it began pulling loose from my pants. The tickling suddenly stopped, giving me a few seconds to catch my breath. “I think we will have more luck if we try this!” one man exclaimed, and any wonder I had about his statement vanished when I suddenly felt my t-shirt being yanked up to my chest. I gasped as the cool wind hit the bare skin of my stomach. This was a whole new world of strange. Here I was, stretched out on the rack with my entire belly exposed and a growing crowd of people looking on. Even with my tan skin, I could feel my face turning a deep red. The tickling resumed. Not having to deal with a t-shirt must have made the work easier for the men as they explored all the areas of my stomach. Upper belly, sides and the area just below my bellybutton were all tickled over the next few minutes. It wasn’t a constant tickling, with a few seconds of intense tickling followed by a short break or by the men pushing down on different areas of my belly. I had never felt this helpless and all I could do was scream with laughter when the fingers wiggled and poked all over my belly.
The tickling stopped for several seconds, and I began to hope that they were finished as I worked to catch my breath. “I think we will try this!” one of the men exclaimed. I tried raising my head to see what he was talking about but my sweatshirt was in the way so I laid my head back down and looked up at the sky, wondering what was coming next. I didn’t know it, but the man was holding a large feather, and my question was answered when I felt the point of the feather touch down inside my bellybutton. I had never felt anything like that before, a combination of a tickling sensation at the same time as what felt like a jolt of electricity going through my stomach. “Oh NO!” I screamed as I felt the quill moving around inside my bellybutton, searching for the most sensitive areas. I started laughing again with an occasional scream as a more sensitive area was found. All three men were now paying attention to my bellybutton and I could feel fingers pulling on the edges of my bellybutton, opening it up so the feather had easier access. I wanted to curl up and protect my navel, but the rope and stocks held fast and I could only laugh and gasp as every area of my bellybutton was probed. The bottom, the rim and around the walls. This continued on and off for what felt like forever before, again, the tickling came to a sudden stop. My chest was heaving and I noticed for the first time the cool feeling of tears of laughter running down from my eyes. The pause continued for several seconds and I again hoped it was over, but again I was wrong. The men were apparently giving me a little time to catch my breath before they resumed their attach, only this time all the areas of my belly were tickled. I felt fingers wiggling across my upper belly, my sides and my lower belly. My bellybutton was included, only now instead of the feather, a finger was poking inside and wigging around. This was the worst yet and I screamed with laughter. Fortunately, this final session ended after only a minute or two, but it felt like an hour. “Do you now confess?” one of the men asked. I continued trying to catch my breath and remembered that it was Chloe’s actions that had put me in this position. “Yes” I whispered, before looking over at Chloe, “But only because the girl over there in the matching sweatshirt wanted to murder the queen so she could take her place”. It was a silly line but it still got the result I was looking for. Two of the men walked towards Chloe as the third man released my wrists and ankles. Chloe must not have realized what was happening until the men grabbed hold of her but by then it was too late. I slowly sat up on the edge of the rack and pulled my shirt and sweatshirt back down, weary and still trying to catch my breath, but I was able to move in time for the third man to join the others in laying Chloe down and strapping her to the rack. The wheel began turning and as she was stretched out her sweatshirt and t-shirt slowly pulled up, exposing her pale skin inch by inch until her entire belly was showing. “She also hates having her belly tickled” I said before stumbling away to join the crowd in watching as Chloe received here just rewards. One of the men shouted that Chloe had dared put the queen in danger and would be justly punished. The men didn’t even bother taking off her shoes and socks as they put all their attention towards her bare belly. I watched as my friend suffered as I had suffered with her belly and bellybutton vigorously tickled. Fortunately for her, the tickling continued for only ten minutes or so before she was released. I walked up to help her get to her feet. I could see areas of her belly and belly button where the tickling had been more sever and her pale skin had turned pink. She playfully punched me in the arm and swore that she would never wear a short t-shirt again.
We considered staying to see what would happen to the next victim, but we were tired and hungry, so we made our way towards the food court.
We were walking through the festival grounds, enjoying all the sights, smells and sounds around us when we heard laughter coming from a small group of people off to one side, so we walked closer to investigate, and what we found was a young man around our age being tickle tortured. I don’t know about Chloe, but I was a little surprised because I had never seen anything like this before, but we had heard these festivals could be a little wild. The young man was sitting on a wooden bench with his hands tied up over his head. His feet were locked in a set of stocks at the foot of the bench and his shoes had been removed. A couple of men dressed in the renaissance era costumes were tickling his feet. One had pulled the toes back on his left foot, stretching the sole while scribbling against it with his fingers. The other was working a feather quill between the toes on his right foot. The men would occasionally switch to tickling his sides, but his feet received most of the attention. This continued on and off for several minutes before he was finally released. We watched as he slowly walked away, looking very tired from what he had endured.
One of the men looked at the group of people assembled and shouted out “Who else has dared to disobey the King’s rules?”. I looked around the crowd, wondering who would volunteer to be next when Chloe stepped behind me shoved me out into the open. “Aha!” said the man as he and his accomplice hurried in my direction. I turned to run away, but the crowd would not separate to let me through and within seconds the men had both grabbed onto an arm and were forcing me to walk towards a tall podium at the other end of the opening, behind which stood a middle-aged man with a really ugly wig. He had in his hand a gavel and I guessed him to be portraying a judge of some kind. “So, you are the one” he exclaimed. “Do you confess? Do so now and I will show mercy”. “Confess to what?” I asked. “You know what!” he answered. “Do you confess?” he asked again. “How can I confess if I do not know what you think I have done.” I replied. “She refuses to answer truthfully” he exclaimed to the crowd. “We will get the answer we want our way. Take her away!” The two men again grabbed on to me and pulled me across the open area towards the bench with the stocks. I knew what was ahead of me but I wasn’t very worried. I rarely wore shoes when not needed and the bottoms of my feet were pretty tough. Chloe had tried tickling them in the past with little success.
I slowed down as we approached the stocks, only to be pushed ahead as we walked past the stocks towards a different apparatus. As we drew nearer, I could see it was a torture rack, similar to what I had seen in various horror movies. I became a little more nervous as we reached our destination. There was another man waiting there and with no hesitation the three of them were able to lift me up and lay me face up on the rack. I tried putting up a little bit of a struggle, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good, and a nervous “oh no” came from me as I waited to see what would happen. One of the men who had dragged me over placed my ankles into the stocks while the other two wrapped leather cuffs around my wrists. I felt the man at my feet removing my shoes at the same time as the wheel at the head of the rack started turning. Ropes were attached to the leather cuffs, and I could feel my arms slowly being pulled up over my head as the wheel turned. I was now more worried about what was going to happen as I was slowly stretched out and I became more wary of how helpless I was. Eventually, the wheel stopped turning, but not before my arms were pulled tight. I felt a cool breeze around my midsection and guessed that my sweatshirt had pulled up a few inches, making me all the more glad that I had my t-shirt tucked into my pants.
My socks and shoes had been removed and I could feel the breeze blowing across my bare feet. “The interrogation will begin!” the one man announced. I immediately felt fingers moving across the soles of my feet and while it did tickle a little, it was easily tolerable and I laughed a little, as much because of my situation as from the tickling. After a few seconds one of the men moved up to the toes of my right foot, using a feather to tickle all around my toes in hopes of getting a better reaction. It did tickle a little more, but still not too bad. The man at the head of rack tried tickling my underarms, but his fingers had a hard time getting through the thick fabric of the sweatshirt. After a couple of minutes the tickling slowed and I was hoping it was over when I heard Chloe’s voice shout out “She hates having her belly tickled!”. My breath caught in my throat and my heart started pounding because what she had said was true. I had always hated having my belly tickled, since I was a little girl. Chloe only knew this because she had once poked my belly when we were sitting next to a pool in our bikinis. I had screamed out loud and Chloe stopped because we surrounded by strangers and didn’t want to cause a scene.
One of the men stayed at my feet, determined to get a better reaction, while the other two approached my sides. One of them pulled my sweatshirt up even further and began poking at my ribs while the other began probing the area above my bellybutton. The combination of these two got more of the reaction that the men were looking for as I began laughing harder. The ribs were bad, but the worst part was the man tickling my stomach through the t-shirt. For whatever reason, this area had always been the worst when it came to tickling. The man that was tickling my ribs must have sensed that the other man was having more luck so he also moved to my stomach and in unison they began a more intense tickling, digging their fingers into the area between my bellybutton and my hips, at least as far as the waist on my pants would let them. I now began laughing out loud and tried to beg for mercy, but any attempt to talk was fruitless as the fingers dug into my stomach. I had no way of knowing it, but the situation was getting worse because tickling was slowly pulling my t-shirt up and it began pulling loose from my pants. The tickling suddenly stopped, giving me a few seconds to catch my breath. “I think we will have more luck if we try this!” one man exclaimed, and any wonder I had about his statement vanished when I suddenly felt my t-shirt being yanked up to my chest. I gasped as the cool wind hit the bare skin of my stomach. This was a whole new world of strange. Here I was, stretched out on the rack with my entire belly exposed and a growing crowd of people looking on. Even with my tan skin, I could feel my face turning a deep red. The tickling resumed. Not having to deal with a t-shirt must have made the work easier for the men as they explored all the areas of my stomach. Upper belly, sides and the area just below my bellybutton were all tickled over the next few minutes. It wasn’t a constant tickling, with a few seconds of intense tickling followed by a short break or by the men pushing down on different areas of my belly. I had never felt this helpless and all I could do was scream with laughter when the fingers wiggled and poked all over my belly.
The tickling stopped for several seconds, and I began to hope that they were finished as I worked to catch my breath. “I think we will try this!” one of the men exclaimed. I tried raising my head to see what he was talking about but my sweatshirt was in the way so I laid my head back down and looked up at the sky, wondering what was coming next. I didn’t know it, but the man was holding a large feather, and my question was answered when I felt the point of the feather touch down inside my bellybutton. I had never felt anything like that before, a combination of a tickling sensation at the same time as what felt like a jolt of electricity going through my stomach. “Oh NO!” I screamed as I felt the quill moving around inside my bellybutton, searching for the most sensitive areas. I started laughing again with an occasional scream as a more sensitive area was found. All three men were now paying attention to my bellybutton and I could feel fingers pulling on the edges of my bellybutton, opening it up so the feather had easier access. I wanted to curl up and protect my navel, but the rope and stocks held fast and I could only laugh and gasp as every area of my bellybutton was probed. The bottom, the rim and around the walls. This continued on and off for what felt like forever before, again, the tickling came to a sudden stop. My chest was heaving and I noticed for the first time the cool feeling of tears of laughter running down from my eyes. The pause continued for several seconds and I again hoped it was over, but again I was wrong. The men were apparently giving me a little time to catch my breath before they resumed their attach, only this time all the areas of my belly were tickled. I felt fingers wiggling across my upper belly, my sides and my lower belly. My bellybutton was included, only now instead of the feather, a finger was poking inside and wigging around. This was the worst yet and I screamed with laughter. Fortunately, this final session ended after only a minute or two, but it felt like an hour. “Do you now confess?” one of the men asked. I continued trying to catch my breath and remembered that it was Chloe’s actions that had put me in this position. “Yes” I whispered, before looking over at Chloe, “But only because the girl over there in the matching sweatshirt wanted to murder the queen so she could take her place”. It was a silly line but it still got the result I was looking for. Two of the men walked towards Chloe as the third man released my wrists and ankles. Chloe must not have realized what was happening until the men grabbed hold of her but by then it was too late. I slowly sat up on the edge of the rack and pulled my shirt and sweatshirt back down, weary and still trying to catch my breath, but I was able to move in time for the third man to join the others in laying Chloe down and strapping her to the rack. The wheel began turning and as she was stretched out her sweatshirt and t-shirt slowly pulled up, exposing her pale skin inch by inch until her entire belly was showing. “She also hates having her belly tickled” I said before stumbling away to join the crowd in watching as Chloe received here just rewards. One of the men shouted that Chloe had dared put the queen in danger and would be justly punished. The men didn’t even bother taking off her shoes and socks as they put all their attention towards her bare belly. I watched as my friend suffered as I had suffered with her belly and bellybutton vigorously tickled. Fortunately for her, the tickling continued for only ten minutes or so before she was released. I walked up to help her get to her feet. I could see areas of her belly and belly button where the tickling had been more sever and her pale skin had turned pink. She playfully punched me in the arm and swore that she would never wear a short t-shirt again.
We considered staying to see what would happen to the next victim, but we were tired and hungry, so we made our way towards the food court.
