Helplesschime
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My first attempt at a pure tickling story. Left the strange society and stuff vauge in case I ever wanna explore it. After all, we all know what you're really here for. Hope you enjoy.
-----
Sat atop her judges podium, the slender woman in a Muse of Comedy mask banged a squeaky gavel down onto the stand. The sound elicited some giggles from the jury and court members who all wore similar masks and did a very poor job of creating any real tension in the room. Well aside for the one on trial at least.
You see in addition to the already bizarre scene playing out in this little corner of hell, one more odd sight could be seen. Sitting where the defendant would traditionally sit, a woman stood strapped to a tilt table. Like the silence of the lambs, straps tightly bound her to the cold steel piece of metal, and a muzzle like gag was placed over her face, baring the image of a frowny face rather than look like any real gag. The woman in question could be seen shaking the metal table as she fought to free herself from the strange surroundings.
Said woman was still in the clothing they had abducted her in. A fan of the gothic style she bore long black hair, a profuse amount of eye shadow and purple lipstick. Her top was clad with a tight black t-shirt with a skull chalice slightly overflowing with blood, and her bottoms were a short plaid skirt, both of which doing a poor job of hiding any curves though that may have been the intention. Finally, some sheer, black, nylon stockings worked their way down her plump thighs and into a pair of large black platform boots covered in many useless straps and buckles, considering they zipped up. When making the trip they had assured her they would "help her change later." Something that did not inspire much confidence. As she thrashed against the canvas bondage straps, the woman at the judge's podium spoke.
"It is clear to me based on the evidence provided by the prosecution," she said pointing to the "evidence", which was a boat load of images taken secretly of her putting on her boots, close ups of her large bare feet, posts from her social media of how she hated when people touched or tickled her, and a rather long video of the time a friend sat on her back while another goosed her thighs while she thrashed and screamed, "that the defense is CLEARLY guilty. As such I am ready to give my sentence. I hearby declare the defendant, Claire Rosewood, to be guilty of all charges, and sentenced to life in the "Giggle Graveyard". Court is adjourned." She declared with another squeaky slam of the gavel.
Claire went wide eyed with renewed struggling. She had no idea what the fuck they were talking about but she didn't want to be sentenced to life in anything. Especially not a graveyard. But it didn't seem up to her. Two women in security outfits, along with the same masks, flanked her on either side and began wheeling her out of the courtroom. One of them reached behind her restraint table and held an oxygen mask over her face. Claire began screaming into her muzzle as it was slowly placed over her nose. She tried to hold her breath, making the two guards look at eachother and shrug, as both of them suddenly dug an index finger into her ribs on either side. Claire nearly tore her restraints as she arched against her bonds, the simple contact feeling like ticklish lightning shooting through her. Her breathing accelerated as the two women began poking the gap between each rib making Claire shriek and rapidly inhale the air from the mask, the tickling fading away as she lost consciousness.
-----
Claire awoke with a start, remembering the crazy event that had taken place, sure it had to have been a dream. But then, that wouldn't explain her new predicament. As she tried to rise, Claire found she couldn't move a muscle. Her forehead was held down, as were her arms by both the biceps, forearms and wrists along with each finger. Her arms were restrained above her head. Her head was held down by the forehead and neck as well as her torso both above and below her breasts. Her waist had similar restraints as well as her shins and ankles along with each of her toes, however those seemed to be restrained as if she were in stocks. Instead of canvas though, these straps seemed to be made of metal with slight cushioning inside, providing no give at all.
"What the fuck! Help! Someone!" Claire screamed, but to no one. You see, Claire was in a box of some kind. A well padded and cushioned box giving her no light. The only things that seemed to not be in the box were her hands and feet, stuck just outside the box. She also noticed another frightening fact. She had been stripped totally naked, she wasn't cold as the box seemed to maintain a comfortable temperature, but she still felt totally exposed. Suddenly a faint glow appeared above her as she looked on it in horror.
Dangling above her, nearly close enough to touch her face were her old platform boots. Written on each of the chunky soles were the words, "You'll never wear shoes again" with a small smiley face sticking its tongue out. Claire was frightened and confused when another light came on, a screen between the two dangling shoes that revealed to her four separate camera feeds.
One of her feet, pulled taunt and looking shiny and smooth as if she had just had a pedicure. One of her hands, her muscles slightly flexing as she tried to move her fingers. And one of either side of the box, several arrows pointing to different hinged portholes labeling things like "Super Ticklish Pits", or "Squishy Squeezable Thighs". Claire began panicking even more than before. She watched as her feet and hands flexed only slightly in return for what was her maximum efforts to break free. She was truly and totally trapped. And then, a slight chiming jingle, and a woman's voice coming from some unseen speakers.
"The time is 8 AM. Today's tickling will now begin!" It said before cutting out. Claire's eyes were like saucers and a tear managed to escape the corner of her eye.
"Wait, tickling! No, god no! Someone fucking HELP!" She screamed with newly renewed energy. Of course no one would help, in fact no one could hear her. Her box was soundproofed unless the holes on the side were to open. So, Claire could only watch as shadows suddenly began being casted on the cameras she was forced to look up at. Shadows she knew belonged to the people who had taken her from the street.
If she could have seen more than the close up views on the sides of her box, she would have seen she was restrained in a coffin, a picture of her face and body displayed on the top as well as her most ticklish spots, and the number of days she had been there. This gave the girls the perfect way to choose who they felt was a worthy victim for them. And unfortunately for Claire, the new girls always got it the worst. She could hear faint chattering coming through the invisible speakers as her heart began beating out of her chest. And then she saw it. For a brief second, a red manicured nail swung into frame by her feet before leaving it, making Claire uselessly tru and yank her foot away.
"Fuck, wait please! Stay away from me!" She shouted in fear. Soon a new sensation. Claire yelped as she watched a few small paint brushes begin lightly tickling the palms of her hands. She began grunting and stifling giggles as the obnoxious light tickling sensations shot down her arms. It was more obnoxious than anything, that said, it was extremely obnoxious. But she found she wouldn't have to worry about that long. As she watched four paintbrushes from two women stroke and wiggle against her palms, she also watched as some activity started along the portholes on the sides of the coffin.
Two such holes opened on either side of her head. She heard some faint girlish giggling that inspired no confidence before feeling something. A quick swish over her neck made her shiver and yelp. Then another, and another. It became clear as she watched the monitor that two masked women were now using manicured nails to tickle along her neck and wiggle about in her ears. A new agonizingly annoying sensation that made her grit her teeth and fight back small peels of laughter. If she kept her reactions to a minimum maybe then they would lose interest. But instead they seemed to take it as a challenge. The teasing skitters up her sensitive neck and painfully infuriating brushes along her fingers and palms became erratic, with no patterns. Like they were toying with her, watching her grunts and slight snorts at the barley ticklish sensations. By the time something new joined in Claire already had tears coming down her face. A solid hour of this obnoxiously light tickling already making her a mess.
Then, with no warning, and no chance to prepare herself, four pairs of hands suddenly dug into her soft pedicures soles with insane gusto. If the straps had been any less than metal they would have been torn to bits as Claire screamed and fought, watching as a rainbow of brightly colored nails, burrowed, dug, skittered, and stroked across her wide canvas of feet. Unable to move a muscle the teasing tickle on her hands and head continued as she heard peels of teasing laughter from her tormentors.
"Nohohohohoho, PLEHEHEHEHEHESE STOHOHOHOHP" Claire screamed to the merciless tormentors. What she received in response was a chorus of laughter from the other women.
"Awww she's so squirmy. Wish you could move sweetie?"
"When I dig under her big toe she goes fucking insane. Watch."
"Coochi coooooo. Such a ticklish widdle girl. You have to know we can't stop with such cute laughter."
And on and on. Her begging and screeching laughter only made them dig into her large plush feet with more gusto, one woman grabbing a bottle of baby oil and pouring it on thick. Claire could only witness as the girls nails now slid effortlessly across her soles sending her into a new hell. Their mocking only made it worse as she screamed and cried in her padded tomb. It was merciless, for hours the women did nothing but tickle away at full force. She had passed out twice, only for the screen to lightly spray a mist that forced her back awake, fully alert and even more sensitive to the skillful hungry tickling from the sudden shock of being pulled back into consciousness. Every time she thought she could take no more, they swiftly proved her wrong. At about hour 4 she could barely register what was happening, a sweaty drooling mess of tickled flesh. She did however notice as new hands opened up some more holes around her stomach.
"Can you believe someone left this sensitive tummy totally untouched." A new voice teased. Claire wanted to beg and scream but her voice had long since been stolen from her. She could only sob harder as she watched two new pairs of hands slowly enter her prison and position themselves over her stomach. The pointy nailed fingers wiggled and skittered along the air just inches from her sensitive tummy, making Claire's tears poor at an even faster rate from her eyes.
"No I can't. This sensitive tummy and those squeezable thighs. They're being much to nice to the new girl. Don't worry sweetie, we'll show you the ropes." A more mature and sultry voice replied. The tickling slowed a bit, giving her time to anticipate the help she was going to be put through.
"p….please. I...no more. no more. no moHOHOHOHORE GAHAHAHAHAD WHYHYHYHY" Claire shrieked as the hands swarmed her stomach and began skittering and squeezing her immobile thighs with the precision of a trained torturer. The other swarming hands now picked up at full speed once more stealing her voice from her. Dozens of fingers abusing her sensitive skin as they teased and cooed at her, in a complete over stimulated hell.
"Such a guilty ticklish girl. Coochie coochie."
"To think she was running around flaunting this thick sensitive body. Bad girl."
"It's fine, she's been tried and sentenced. You'll never spend a day outside of tickle hell again sweetie. Now lemme get at those armpits."
Claire wanted to beg them to stop, scream even louder, beg to killed even, if it meant even a second away from this torture. Instead all that came from her mouth were choked and frantic sobs and laughter as a hand left her belly and began crawling in the hollow of her armpit like a panicked spider. The seemingly endless fingers trying to burrow brown to the very ticklish nerves that caused her so much agony. And still, only 7 hours had gone by which meant, if the threats were to be taken seriously, this treatment was far from over. Claire felt herself deflate and succumb to the tears as she heard the teasing voices doom her once more, helping her to see, there was no freedom, from here or these people.
"I think it's time to step it up, grab me a hairbrush. One of the vibrating ones."
"Oh, itching powder for me please!"
"Get me the massager. These ribbies need some nice vibrations."
"Hear that sweetie. Things are about to get a lot more fun, and we have all the time in the world to see what really makes this sensitive body of your shriek. Now let's find out which of your piggies makes you wee wee wee in your brand new home." One woman said before lightly gnawing at the base of one of Claure's toes. From the blood curdling scream that came from the box, it sounded like this one. But...no harm in being sure.
-----
Sat atop her judges podium, the slender woman in a Muse of Comedy mask banged a squeaky gavel down onto the stand. The sound elicited some giggles from the jury and court members who all wore similar masks and did a very poor job of creating any real tension in the room. Well aside for the one on trial at least.
You see in addition to the already bizarre scene playing out in this little corner of hell, one more odd sight could be seen. Sitting where the defendant would traditionally sit, a woman stood strapped to a tilt table. Like the silence of the lambs, straps tightly bound her to the cold steel piece of metal, and a muzzle like gag was placed over her face, baring the image of a frowny face rather than look like any real gag. The woman in question could be seen shaking the metal table as she fought to free herself from the strange surroundings.
Said woman was still in the clothing they had abducted her in. A fan of the gothic style she bore long black hair, a profuse amount of eye shadow and purple lipstick. Her top was clad with a tight black t-shirt with a skull chalice slightly overflowing with blood, and her bottoms were a short plaid skirt, both of which doing a poor job of hiding any curves though that may have been the intention. Finally, some sheer, black, nylon stockings worked their way down her plump thighs and into a pair of large black platform boots covered in many useless straps and buckles, considering they zipped up. When making the trip they had assured her they would "help her change later." Something that did not inspire much confidence. As she thrashed against the canvas bondage straps, the woman at the judge's podium spoke.
"It is clear to me based on the evidence provided by the prosecution," she said pointing to the "evidence", which was a boat load of images taken secretly of her putting on her boots, close ups of her large bare feet, posts from her social media of how she hated when people touched or tickled her, and a rather long video of the time a friend sat on her back while another goosed her thighs while she thrashed and screamed, "that the defense is CLEARLY guilty. As such I am ready to give my sentence. I hearby declare the defendant, Claire Rosewood, to be guilty of all charges, and sentenced to life in the "Giggle Graveyard". Court is adjourned." She declared with another squeaky slam of the gavel.
Claire went wide eyed with renewed struggling. She had no idea what the fuck they were talking about but she didn't want to be sentenced to life in anything. Especially not a graveyard. But it didn't seem up to her. Two women in security outfits, along with the same masks, flanked her on either side and began wheeling her out of the courtroom. One of them reached behind her restraint table and held an oxygen mask over her face. Claire began screaming into her muzzle as it was slowly placed over her nose. She tried to hold her breath, making the two guards look at eachother and shrug, as both of them suddenly dug an index finger into her ribs on either side. Claire nearly tore her restraints as she arched against her bonds, the simple contact feeling like ticklish lightning shooting through her. Her breathing accelerated as the two women began poking the gap between each rib making Claire shriek and rapidly inhale the air from the mask, the tickling fading away as she lost consciousness.
-----
Claire awoke with a start, remembering the crazy event that had taken place, sure it had to have been a dream. But then, that wouldn't explain her new predicament. As she tried to rise, Claire found she couldn't move a muscle. Her forehead was held down, as were her arms by both the biceps, forearms and wrists along with each finger. Her arms were restrained above her head. Her head was held down by the forehead and neck as well as her torso both above and below her breasts. Her waist had similar restraints as well as her shins and ankles along with each of her toes, however those seemed to be restrained as if she were in stocks. Instead of canvas though, these straps seemed to be made of metal with slight cushioning inside, providing no give at all.
"What the fuck! Help! Someone!" Claire screamed, but to no one. You see, Claire was in a box of some kind. A well padded and cushioned box giving her no light. The only things that seemed to not be in the box were her hands and feet, stuck just outside the box. She also noticed another frightening fact. She had been stripped totally naked, she wasn't cold as the box seemed to maintain a comfortable temperature, but she still felt totally exposed. Suddenly a faint glow appeared above her as she looked on it in horror.
Dangling above her, nearly close enough to touch her face were her old platform boots. Written on each of the chunky soles were the words, "You'll never wear shoes again" with a small smiley face sticking its tongue out. Claire was frightened and confused when another light came on, a screen between the two dangling shoes that revealed to her four separate camera feeds.
One of her feet, pulled taunt and looking shiny and smooth as if she had just had a pedicure. One of her hands, her muscles slightly flexing as she tried to move her fingers. And one of either side of the box, several arrows pointing to different hinged portholes labeling things like "Super Ticklish Pits", or "Squishy Squeezable Thighs". Claire began panicking even more than before. She watched as her feet and hands flexed only slightly in return for what was her maximum efforts to break free. She was truly and totally trapped. And then, a slight chiming jingle, and a woman's voice coming from some unseen speakers.
"The time is 8 AM. Today's tickling will now begin!" It said before cutting out. Claire's eyes were like saucers and a tear managed to escape the corner of her eye.
"Wait, tickling! No, god no! Someone fucking HELP!" She screamed with newly renewed energy. Of course no one would help, in fact no one could hear her. Her box was soundproofed unless the holes on the side were to open. So, Claire could only watch as shadows suddenly began being casted on the cameras she was forced to look up at. Shadows she knew belonged to the people who had taken her from the street.
If she could have seen more than the close up views on the sides of her box, she would have seen she was restrained in a coffin, a picture of her face and body displayed on the top as well as her most ticklish spots, and the number of days she had been there. This gave the girls the perfect way to choose who they felt was a worthy victim for them. And unfortunately for Claire, the new girls always got it the worst. She could hear faint chattering coming through the invisible speakers as her heart began beating out of her chest. And then she saw it. For a brief second, a red manicured nail swung into frame by her feet before leaving it, making Claire uselessly tru and yank her foot away.
"Fuck, wait please! Stay away from me!" She shouted in fear. Soon a new sensation. Claire yelped as she watched a few small paint brushes begin lightly tickling the palms of her hands. She began grunting and stifling giggles as the obnoxious light tickling sensations shot down her arms. It was more obnoxious than anything, that said, it was extremely obnoxious. But she found she wouldn't have to worry about that long. As she watched four paintbrushes from two women stroke and wiggle against her palms, she also watched as some activity started along the portholes on the sides of the coffin.
Two such holes opened on either side of her head. She heard some faint girlish giggling that inspired no confidence before feeling something. A quick swish over her neck made her shiver and yelp. Then another, and another. It became clear as she watched the monitor that two masked women were now using manicured nails to tickle along her neck and wiggle about in her ears. A new agonizingly annoying sensation that made her grit her teeth and fight back small peels of laughter. If she kept her reactions to a minimum maybe then they would lose interest. But instead they seemed to take it as a challenge. The teasing skitters up her sensitive neck and painfully infuriating brushes along her fingers and palms became erratic, with no patterns. Like they were toying with her, watching her grunts and slight snorts at the barley ticklish sensations. By the time something new joined in Claire already had tears coming down her face. A solid hour of this obnoxiously light tickling already making her a mess.
Then, with no warning, and no chance to prepare herself, four pairs of hands suddenly dug into her soft pedicures soles with insane gusto. If the straps had been any less than metal they would have been torn to bits as Claire screamed and fought, watching as a rainbow of brightly colored nails, burrowed, dug, skittered, and stroked across her wide canvas of feet. Unable to move a muscle the teasing tickle on her hands and head continued as she heard peels of teasing laughter from her tormentors.
"Nohohohohoho, PLEHEHEHEHEHESE STOHOHOHOHP" Claire screamed to the merciless tormentors. What she received in response was a chorus of laughter from the other women.
"Awww she's so squirmy. Wish you could move sweetie?"
"When I dig under her big toe she goes fucking insane. Watch."
"Coochi coooooo. Such a ticklish widdle girl. You have to know we can't stop with such cute laughter."
And on and on. Her begging and screeching laughter only made them dig into her large plush feet with more gusto, one woman grabbing a bottle of baby oil and pouring it on thick. Claire could only witness as the girls nails now slid effortlessly across her soles sending her into a new hell. Their mocking only made it worse as she screamed and cried in her padded tomb. It was merciless, for hours the women did nothing but tickle away at full force. She had passed out twice, only for the screen to lightly spray a mist that forced her back awake, fully alert and even more sensitive to the skillful hungry tickling from the sudden shock of being pulled back into consciousness. Every time she thought she could take no more, they swiftly proved her wrong. At about hour 4 she could barely register what was happening, a sweaty drooling mess of tickled flesh. She did however notice as new hands opened up some more holes around her stomach.
"Can you believe someone left this sensitive tummy totally untouched." A new voice teased. Claire wanted to beg and scream but her voice had long since been stolen from her. She could only sob harder as she watched two new pairs of hands slowly enter her prison and position themselves over her stomach. The pointy nailed fingers wiggled and skittered along the air just inches from her sensitive tummy, making Claire's tears poor at an even faster rate from her eyes.
"No I can't. This sensitive tummy and those squeezable thighs. They're being much to nice to the new girl. Don't worry sweetie, we'll show you the ropes." A more mature and sultry voice replied. The tickling slowed a bit, giving her time to anticipate the help she was going to be put through.
"p….please. I...no more. no more. no moHOHOHOHORE GAHAHAHAHAD WHYHYHYHY" Claire shrieked as the hands swarmed her stomach and began skittering and squeezing her immobile thighs with the precision of a trained torturer. The other swarming hands now picked up at full speed once more stealing her voice from her. Dozens of fingers abusing her sensitive skin as they teased and cooed at her, in a complete over stimulated hell.
"Such a guilty ticklish girl. Coochie coochie."
"To think she was running around flaunting this thick sensitive body. Bad girl."
"It's fine, she's been tried and sentenced. You'll never spend a day outside of tickle hell again sweetie. Now lemme get at those armpits."
Claire wanted to beg them to stop, scream even louder, beg to killed even, if it meant even a second away from this torture. Instead all that came from her mouth were choked and frantic sobs and laughter as a hand left her belly and began crawling in the hollow of her armpit like a panicked spider. The seemingly endless fingers trying to burrow brown to the very ticklish nerves that caused her so much agony. And still, only 7 hours had gone by which meant, if the threats were to be taken seriously, this treatment was far from over. Claire felt herself deflate and succumb to the tears as she heard the teasing voices doom her once more, helping her to see, there was no freedom, from here or these people.
"I think it's time to step it up, grab me a hairbrush. One of the vibrating ones."
"Oh, itching powder for me please!"
"Get me the massager. These ribbies need some nice vibrations."
"Hear that sweetie. Things are about to get a lot more fun, and we have all the time in the world to see what really makes this sensitive body of your shriek. Now let's find out which of your piggies makes you wee wee wee in your brand new home." One woman said before lightly gnawing at the base of one of Claure's toes. From the blood curdling scream that came from the box, it sounded like this one. But...no harm in being sure.
