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Tickle Tutor #6: The Postgrads MF/f [BRAND NEW!]

TickleMantis

4th Level Red Feather
Joined
May 5, 2001
Messages
1,970
Points
48
Hello Friends! :D

Ah yes, here I am back with another long-form story! I had originally intended to post this back on May 5th of this year in order to tie it in (tie it up?) with my 20th anniversarry here on the TMF. Alas, the timing was not to be. So it goes.

Anyhow!

My latest offering below comes in at just under 70,000 words and is the latest in installment in the ongoing Tickle Tutor series. While I'm very much starting to propel the overarching story forward with this one you can rest assured it is JAM-PACKED with all the sexy, sweaty, terribly tortorous tickling you came here to see!

If you've never read any of the previous entries you should be able to jump in and enjoy without going back and reading the others, so fear not. That being said, if you ARE new to the series and would like a little more background on the events taking place (or you just want a refresher) I'll humbly suggest checking out installements #2 and #5.

In any case whether this is your first rodeo with Tickle Tutor or you've been here since the beginning, I sincerely hope you enjoy! And when you're done if you'd be so kind as to leave me a comment sharing your thoughts it is very, very much appreciated.

All the best,


'Mantis :D

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Tickle Tutor #6: The Postgrads

By TickleMantis

MF/f


Chapter One: Curiosity Doomed The Cat

Just as she had done every morning for the previous six months, Emma Clark sat diligently staring at her computer screen. Nestled in her tiny 400 square foot apartment, the studious young woman poured over news articles from all over the world. With particular focus on New York City, the place she now called home, the budding journalist kept copious amounts of notes for anything of interest. After being hired on at The Deep Look online newspaper right out of college the freckle-nosed girl had been eager to prove her journalistic skills. A couple of moderately popular articles were enough to keep Emma in the good graces of her bosses, but what the ambitious girl’s career really needed was one big scoop.

Illuminated only by the light of her computer screen, Emma’s small 5’1ft frame allowed her to easily sit with her knees up between herself and the edge of her well-organized desk. Donning a long-sleeve PJ top with teddy bear pattern and matching pants, the fair-skinned girl crinkled her button nose as she clicked from open tab to open tab. Turning her office chair slightly to jot a hand-written note, a strand of frizzy light red hair fell across her very ample bosom, her breasts squished up under the pajama top by her propped up knees. Absent-mindedly curling her tiny toes, which dangled over the edge of her chair, the blue eyed girl turned back to the screen. Her note done, Emma clicked onto yet another open browser tab, the website for her hometown’s biggest paper.

Emma kept loose track of the headlines back home more as a point of curiosity than anything else. Normally she would skim the top story or two and then click away to stories more important. At best the big news in a city of barely a million people would give her something to talk to her mother about over the phone. Her mind on other stories, Emma moved her cursor over the next tab when a familiar name caught her eye, and paused her hand. Wendy Starr, a bubbly and almost always cheerful girl from their senior year in high school. Wendy Starr who had got her name in the newspaper. Wendy Starr, whose name alone caused Emma’s stomach to pang with guilt. Emma had very few sins to her name, one sin by most people’s standards, but it was a doozy.

Slowly moving her hand downward, the suddenly anxious strawberry blonde clicked to expand Wendy’s article. Just as Emma opened the next page the front door of her apartment swung open, spilling in light from the hall. The mid-morning visitor was not at all unexpected, in fact he was so expected his arrival was the entire reason Emma had unlocked her door before sitting down. For the first few weeks of living in New York the petit girl had broken concentration and gotten up from her chair whenever Evan would bumble on by. Before long Emma realized the kindly young neighbor’s visits were a new fact of life, and simply started letting him come on in.

“Good morning, Gumshoe!” The chipper boy said, flicking on Emma’s living room light. Evan had mixed up the jobs of journalist and private eye early on in their friendship. She had explained the difference to him of course, and he did understand, but the nickname stuck anyway. “What’s big in the big world today?” The dark haired lad beamed as he closed the door behind him.

Like Emma, Evan hadn’t been in New York long and she honestly wondered how he survived the city even that short amount of time. A broad chested farmboy from somewhere deep in rural Nebraska, the grinning ox of a lad seemed to lack much in the way of both book and street smarts. After their first meeting in the apartment building’s clunky elevator Emma had decided that the pair of them would have little to talk about should they bump into each other again. As it happened Evan only lived two doors down and, despite her first impression, it was the country boy’s winning smile and infectious good nature that changed her mind. Perhaps, the bare foot girl had often been given cause to ponder, it was Evan’s naïvely insuppressible charm that kept the big city from swallowing him whole.

“Good morning, Evan.” Emma said, much more focused on the article with Wendy Starr’s name in it than she was the brawny farmboy lumbering his way into her kitchenette.

“Did you see Mrs. Gotterman’s cat got out again?” Evan said as he rummaged through his friend’s small refrigerator. “You’d think the little guy would have more trouble from all the way up on the nineteenth floor, but hoo boy is that cat clever!”

While the lantern jawed young man in her kitchen made himself at home, his ongoing thoughts about Mrs. Gotterman’s cat fell on deaf ears. Her eyes squarely on her computer screen, Emma read with great interest and a feeling of increasing unease about her former fellow high school senior. Wendy, according to the article, had been working as an exotic dancer under the stage name ‘Starburst’. After a private job went sideways, the details of which were scarce, Wendy had been found running stark nude in a farmer’s field quite some distance from the city. Up until that point in the article Emma had been firmly racked by her own guilt, but not enough to stop reading. Once the article went on to quote the farmer who found Wendy streaking across his land, Emma had to lean back and take a breath.

“You okay?” Evan’s said softly, his voice grabbing just enough of the redhead’s attention to be heard. “Hello?”

“…huh?” Emma said, prying her eyes away from the computer screen. “Oh…yeah, yeah I just…this article, I knew this girl.”

“She okay?” The burly boy said, holding a sandwich cobbled together from an assortment of odd ingredients.

“Um…yeah. No? I don’t know.”

“Well what happened to her?”

“Here I-“ Emma said and pointed to her screen. She started to lean back so Evan could move in and read the article himself, but instead hesitated when she noticed a piece of lettuce drop from his sandwich onto her floor. “Never mind.” She said, putting up a hand. “Here, I’ll just read you this bit…” Scrolling slightly back up, Emma began quoting the article. “’It was the darndest thing’ said Brown, 82. ‘I’m out feeding the cows like I do every morning and here comes this young lass in her birthday suit.’”

“Your friend?” Evan said, chomping away on his food.

“I didn’t really know her that well, but yeah. The girl from school.” Emma said before reading from the article again. “’I call my wife and I says Martha, Martha get out here. I don’t want her wondering why I’m chatting up a young lady, never mind a naked one, you understand.’”

“He’s funny!” Chuckling a little, Evan polished off the last of his sandwich.

“Here’s the part where…just listen.” Emma said, keeping her eyes on the screen and trying not to sound too impatient. “’The Browns consoled Miss Star, 22, wrapping a blanket around her before offering to call the sheriff. ‘I gave her some of my old clothes’ Martha Brown, 81 said. ‘They were a bit small, the poor dear was practically spilling out of them.’ said the retired librarian. ‘She didn’t want nothing to do with the police, that much was clear.’ Said Mr. Brown. ‘Everything else sounded like nonsense. She just kept babbling about some girls in white, and tickling. Ain’t that odd?’”

“Tickling?” Evan said, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

“That’s all it says.” Emma said as her brawny friend moved behind her to get a better look at the screen. “After that it just says something about a sorority hazing gone wrong or maybe a bachelorette party getting carried away. It makes no sense.”

“Makes sense to me.” The ditsy boy shrugged. “Girls can be crazy, especially in packs.”

“No, I mean…” Placing one elbow on her desktop the slightly perturbed girl leaned forward, resting the side of her head against two fingers. She couldn’t tell Evan everything that happened senior year, she couldn’t tell anyone, not after what happened last time. Still, after nearly four years of carrying the guilt Emma decided she had to tell somebody something. “There was this boy in school…Jason.” Looking to her single window across the room, Emma watched thick rain drops hit the glass outside. “Popular, nice, football player type.”

“I like him already!” Evan grinned, doing his level best to listen to Emma and read the article over her shoulder.

“Well, Jason wasn’t exactly everything he seemed.” Said the curled up girl, turning her head to look back over her shoulder briefly. “In his spare time, when no one was looking, Jason liked to tickle people. And I don’t mean in a friendly way, like friends do. I mean he’d find someone ticklish, really ticklish, and just tickle them like crazy.”

“He tickled you?” The big farmboy said in a moment of surprising perceptiveness. Shifting his focus from the screen to Emma’s eyes, the curvy girl turned immediately back to the rainy street outside.

“Me and others, yes.” Emma said, intent on avoiding specific details. “He never got me as much as he wanted to though. But I knew, I knew he wanted more. When he couldn’t have me he started going after other girls, so I started following him.”

“Ever the detective!” Evan said. By his tone Emma could tell her friend was speaking through a smile.

“One day I went to check up on Jason, but he wasn’t alone.” Her voice lowered to almost a whisper and the barefoot girl curled her toes as the memory of what happened next formed in her mind. “He was with the math teacher, Mr. Lucas. They were in his office, just them. It wasn’t that unusual, but then Wendy walked by.”

“The girl from the news story, the stripper?”

“Exotic dancer, yes.” Emma said more so quoting the article than she was correcting her friend. “I was going to leave but the office door closed after Wendy went in. I guess I thought it was weird, so I snuck up to the door. I couldn’t really hear what was going on, but after a minute or two I heard Wendy laughing. Jason was tickling her.”

“Was the teacher still there?” Evan said, as confused as he was curious.

“Oh he wasn’t just there. Mr. Lucas joined in.” Letting the statement sit for a moment, Evan’s normally chatty demeanor turned to heavy silence. Emma took a deep breath before continuing. “The two them of tickled her…I tried calling the police but they never came. When I called again they thought I was crazy. Same thing when I went to the police station, they couldn’t get me out of there fast enough.”

Evan shuffled his weight a little as the cogs turned, struggling to understand his the implication in his friend’s voice. “Well…you know, a teacher definitely shouldn’t do that…but it sounds like, I mean, it was just tickling, right?”

“No.” Emma said sternly. “No, it wasn’t just tickling, Evan. The things they did to her –the things I heard coming out of that room. Wendy begged them, BEGGED them to let her go. She screamed like nothing else I’ve ever heard…but, god, she laughed, she was laughing the whole time. Not a good laugh, not a nice laugh…a-a frightened, helpless laugh. She couldn’t stop. It was awful.”

“Did she know, after?” The farmboy said. “Did you tell her you were there?”

“I couldn’t.” Swallowing hard, Emma felt that familiar pang of guilt flair up. “To go through something like that, then to find out someone was there the whole time…I…there was nothing I could do, or nothing I could think of at the time. I was so scared. It could just as easily have been me.” Shaking her head at the thought, the remorseful redhead continued her story of regret. “I kept quiet for months and then, finally, I went to our guidance counselor, Miss Stonewood. I told her all of it, everything, but she said she had to be professional. These were serious accusations, she told me, and Mr. Lucas was well respected. She quit a few days later, moved out of state.”

“That doesn’t mean-“ Evan began and was quickly cut off by his friend.

“-She was nice, Miss Stonewood. Happy, smiley type person just like Wendy. The last time I saw her she had the same look in her eye that Wendy did. A little less happy, a little less smiley.”

“I don’t get it.” The large boy said plainly, he never showed any hint of shame from not being able to keep up with a conversation. Leaning forward, the hulking young man took hold of the mouse and scrolled back up the page as he reached around Emma’s shoulder. “This says it was girls who tickled your friend, not a teacher.”

“I don’t get it either.” Emma said, mild frustration in her voice as she had to concede the pieces before her made no kind of puzzle she could figure. “Where I’m from, it’s not a big city, but it’s not small either. There’s not enough people there for this to be unrelated. And for Wendy to be involved again…it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“That was years ago though, wasn’t it? When you were there?”

“Yeah….the timeline on this is strange too. I mean, what are the chances something like that would happen to the same person twice?”

“I gotta be honest Gumshoe, I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about it.” Evan said, his usual buoyant tone returning. “You said yourself, friends can tickle each other, no big deal.”

“It’s different Evan, it’s-“ Emma said, interrupting herself with a loud squeal as the country boy’s ten fingers suddenly squeezed her sides. “Yeeiihey!” Shooting her legs out straight under the desk, the hypersensitive young woman arched her back to avoid Evan’s wiggling fingers. “Ahahahheyhey! Evan!”

“Tickle tickle!” The dopey boy teased, his large hands wrapped around the surprised girl’s slender sides.

“Stop it! Eeeheehee! Stop!” Leaning forward over her desk, the much smaller young woman snapped her hands down and grabbed frantically at Evan’s boisterously strong grip. Try as she might Emma knew she would never be able to pull the far larger boy’s hands off of her, even if she wasn’t being tickled. “Evaaahahan! Enough! Eeeheee!”

Stomping her bare feet onto the rug, a forced grin plastered across her lips, the giggling girl was almost as frustrated by her flustered reaction as she was the feeling of being tickled itself. Much to Emma’s eternal dismay she had always been agonizingly sensitive all over her nubile young body, and she absolutely despised the loss of control. In her heart of hearts the riotously laughing girl knew there was no real danger with Evan, not like there had been in high school with Jason Whitmore. Nonetheless, in the moment with the brawny boy’s thick fingers drilling into her tender sides, Emma had to get away.

Against all instinct, the wildly shaking girl used every ounce of will power she had to stop fighting her friend’s overly playful touch. Planting her palms directly on the edge of her desk, Emma pushed back hard with a loud grunt. “Agh!” The fearsome girl roared as she rolled back her chair into Evan’s legs. To her relief the surprise movement was enough to put a halt in the hectic proceedings. With her quick-thinking the hurried redhead had created just enough space between her desk and chair to scuttle out from between the two.

Making sure to put several feet between herself and her friend, Emma turned back toward him. Leaning forward slightly with her arms wrapped around her midriff, the slightly blushing girl took a couple of short, sharp breaths. “Don’t do that again!” Emma said, trying to keep her temper at a low simmer toward her mostly well-meaning neighbor.

“Aww, come on Gummy!” Evan said with a bit of singsong in his voice. Pushing the rolling office chair away from himself, the lumbering dolt took a step toward the wide-eyed girl before raising both hands in the air. “It’s just a little tickle between friends!”

Stepping back instinctively, her bare feet moving from the rug to the cool wooden floor, Emma raised a hand. “No. No!” She repeated, each new word far more serious than the one before it. Raising an index finger as Evan’s own fingers began to wiggle, the hopelessly out-powered girl knew she had mere seconds to convince her friend how deathly genuine and very much not a game her demands were. “Evan, I swear to god if you tickle me again I’ll-“

“Cootchy coo!” The giant fool teased, launching his hulking mass of muscle toward her.

“Get away!” Emma balked, turning quickly toward the small area where her couch and TV were. Realizing her mistake having surrounded herself by furniture the panicky girl took a little too long deciding whether if it would be easier to jump the couch or her flimsy side table in order for escape. Before she had decided Evan was already closing in, wiggling fingers accompanying his big dumb grin. “No! Eeeheiii!” She squealed as the burly young man’s hands honed in on her tummy.

Buckling over, the giggling girl’s hefty bosom bounced beneath her pajama top. Slapping at Evan’s thick forearms as she stepped backward at a rapid pace, the uncoordinated girl bumped back into her living room wall. Trapped between the wall, Evan and his curious hands, Emma knew from past experience that she only had a few seconds before becoming a giggly mess on the floor.

“STOP!” The fuming girl growled, setting aside her friendship for the sake of anger. Unfortunately the stream of unstoppable schoolgirl laughter that followed her exasperated plea deflated her desperate effort of any power it might have had. Then, just as Evan landed a particularly devastating pinch right above her hipbone, Emma’s knees gave up and she sunk down to the carpet.

“Ohh, you’re in trouble now Gumshoe!” Evan teased, bending over to effortlessly poke and prod at the poor girl beneath him. “Or should I call you No-Shoe?”

“Naha! Noohahaha!” Convulsing helplessly and slapping at her attacker’s hands, the virtually defenseless girl tried to speak. The big boy’s silly joke about wearing no shoes had suddenly made Emma all too aware of her very bare, and excruciatingly ticklish feet. Drowning in her own involuntary laughter, she could not get a full sentence out to save herself. “It’s not fahaha! Aeeheeie! It’s not funneeheeheiie!”

“You’re so ticklish Gummy!” The native Nebraskan said gleefully. Lowering himself down to his knees, the large lad wiggled his fingers up to the bewildered girl’s lower ribcage.

“Aahahaha!” Emma cackled, her cheeks flushed red as she rolled aimlessly among the few short inches between her rock solid friend and the living room wall. Kicking and hitting the wall, the fitful redhead turned her back on Evan, swinging her elbows backward in an attempt to strike his kneeling legs. She might not have wanted to hurt him, not really, but as her desperation grew so too did her willingness to cause pain.

Unfortunately for Emma, as the bumbling boy’s fingers crept higher up her soft ribs, simply having the desire to fight back wasn’t enough. In her horribly weakened state every determined swing of her elbows did no more good than the rest of her fruitless struggling. Seemingly quite oblivious to his squealing friend’s violent efforts and her very real pleas for the big farmboy to stop tickling her, Evan chuckled with the same gleeful grin one might have when wrestling a friendly dog. Knowing she could not break free and that her boisterous neighbor was too dense to properly appreciate the situation, Emma screamed with as much aggressive force as she could muster.

“AAGGHH!” The petit girl roared, slamming her open palms into the wall.

“Ohh, you okay there Em’?” Evan asked, leaning over the red faced young woman and finally ceasing his ticklish assault. “You bang your knee or something?”

Panting heavily, Emma wrapped her arms around herself as Evan shifted back to give her some room. Slumping over onto her back, fiery mane of frizzy hair splayed out behind her, the much relieved girl rolled her eyes before looking at the perplexed young man beside her. Horrible as rolling around on her living room floor for several minutes had been, Evan seemed incapable of wicked intent.

“Yeah.” The slowly recovering redhead said as she sat herself upright. “I banged my knee.”

“Dang, I’m sorry!” The large lad said, reaching out for a consoling touch toward his friend’s shoulder.

“Uh-that-that’s alright.” Emma said, waving away his kind gesture. “But I should um, I should get back to work.”

“Oh-oh sure!” Evan slapped the tops of his own thighs. “I should get going anyway…” The doe eyed dolt said as he stood to full height. “I’m probably pretty late for work!”

After closing the door behind her brawny friend, and making sure to lock it securely, Emma sat back in her chair. Staring back at the rain hitting her apartment window, the bare foot girl thought about the last time she had been tickled so much. There had been the odd dates over the years, a quick pinch or playful bit of foreplay, but nothing that had lasted more than a few seconds. No, the last time Emma had truly been tickled prior to that morning was by Jason Whitmore in 12th grade. And while Evan had not a shred of cruel intention in his body, Jason Whitmore seemed to be composed entirely of them. So too, Emma knew, did the math teacher, Mr. Lucas.

Turning back to her computer screen the curious girl wondered just what it was about tickling that seemed to keep popping up back home. More so, she wondered if the girls in white were at all connected to Jason Whitmore and the math teacher, Mr. Lucas. How in all of it did Wendy Starr keep getting caught up, if any of it was related at all. Being a journalist and naturally curious, she did not believe it was all a coincidence. Perhaps against her better judgment, it was then and there that Emma Clark decided to find out either way.

Chapter Two: Pay With Interest​

1800 miles away from New York and a few hours later Wendy Starr was arriving for her afternoon shift at Glitter Grabbers. Strolling by the heavy-set day bouncer, who offered little more than a half-hearted flick of his chin for a greeting, the scantily clad twenty-two year old was clearly not part of the midday clientele. Sporting her regularly worn Ugg boots the leggy 5’8ft girl left the light of day as she entered into the dingy dark of the club’s foyer. Stopping for a moment to let her vision adjust, the blue-eyed dirty blonde flicked her tiny handbag aside so she could smooth out her tiny denim miniskirt. Looking down over her ballooning cleavage, the bosomy young woman made some effort to tug down the light pink short sleeve number barely covering her midriff. Wendy didn’t normally mind showing a little skin, but recent events had made her a touch paranoid.

Wandering from the foyer into the bar area, music blared as Donna, otherwise known as Jo Cocker, was on stage performing her set for a half dozen barely interested men scattered around the place. Every other table, along with the bar stools, was empty and no one seemed to be spending a whole lot of cash. Situation normal, Wendy thought as she moved passed the bar where Bobby the bartender appeared to be half asleep. Reaching the door that lead backstage the buxom girl reached for the handle, only for it to open before she got a grip on it.

“There you are!” Said Sapphire, which was very much her real name. “Skip’s looking for you.”

“I’m not late.” Wendy said with a hint of confusion as she made her way into the narrow hall. “What does he want?”

“No idea.” The fake tanned Latina said as she closed the door behind them. “Scarlet just told everyone to send you there first.”

Turning to her friend, the comparatively tall girl shrugged. “I’m probably fired.”

“Don’t say that.” Sapphire frowned, shaking her head. “You’re one of his best dancers.”

“Have you seen it out there?” The voluptuous young woman said and pointed back to the door. “There’s what, four, five of us working on a Monday afternoon? It’s dead.”

“Maybe he’s moving you onto evenings?” The shorter girl smiled, making an attempt to lighten the mood. “Besides, would being fired really be the worst thing? You could easily make more money over at Long Neck.”

“Nah.” Wendy returned the smile, appreciating her friend’s optimism. “Too many bikers over there. Too much trouble.”

“Oh yeah, like the guys Skip works with are any better?”

“Whatever.” The busty blonde said, turning away with a cheeky grin. “Maybe Starbucks will have me!”

“Probably.” Sapphire said, following her coworker down the hall. “You’ve definitely got the basic bitch thing down.”

“Ha!” Wendy laughed along with her friend and waved a hand dismissively. “Eat me!”

Leaving Sapphire behind at the dressing room, Wendy continued on down the hall toward her employer’s office. Skip wasn’t altogether a bad guy, especially according to some of the girls who had worked the other clubs. Mostly he was fair going and on a good day not entirely bad looking either. After all, Skip was the one who had given her a chance fresh out of high school when no one else would. Even dancing the afternoon shift allowed Wendy to afford her own modest apartment just a couple of blocks from the club. Naturally neither the apartment nor her place of employment were in the most glamorous part of town, but it beat living in the trailer park where she had spent most of her life.

“Hey, come in.” Skip said from behind his desk in the dimly lit office, motioning Wendy to come in a flick of his index finger. “Shut the door.”

A tall and sinewy man in his early forties, Skip’s slicked back hair had turned silver before his time. His original dark hair colour could still be seen in the stubble of his beard, but even that had become peppered with glints of white in recent months. Lines on his face betrayed what youth he had left and the usually irked looking man never seemed to aim any higher. A pity, most of the girls agreed in their dressing room gossip sessions, if Skip would only try wearing a suit instead of his usual torn jeans and black t-shirt he would probably clean up pretty good.

“Sapphire said you wanted to see me?” Wendy said, closing the door and muting the music from Donna’s set.

“Yeah, look.” The slightly agitated man said as he pawed through a mess of papers on his messy desk. “I was going through the weekend’s numbers and you’re looking short.”

“Really?” Furrowing her brow, the leggy girl sounded genuinely confused. “I tallied everything before I left on Friday.“

Giving up on searching his paperwork, Skip opened his hands in surrender-like manner. “You left on private gig though, right?” He asked, clearly not expecting an answer. “You know I don’t mind you taking outcalls but I need my cut. You’ve worked here long enough to know deposits need to be made over the weekend.”

“There was no cut.” Wendy shrugged. “The job didn’t work out, I never got paid.”

Leaning back in his squeaky old chair, the frustrated man sighed. “You left early, on my dime no less, to take the job…no?”

“I’m…I guess, yeah, I’m sorry but-“ The busty girl stammered, not entirely sure how any of this was fair. “It wasn’t my fault, the whole thing went wrong, I had to get out of there.”

“Look…” Skip said, placing his palm flat against one of the few uncovered spaces on his desktop. “Bottom line? The fact you didn’t get paid is annoying, to say the least. But the real problem, Wendy-“ He paused and made a fist, tapping the bottom of his hand gently against the desk. “-is that you fucked up the job.”

“I didn’t, I-“ The defensive girl began, only to be quickly interrupted.

“-Those girls who came in here on Friday? They were gorgeous.” The tall man opened his hand again. “More importantly, they were throwing money around like nobody’s business. Those are the kind of customers I, and you by the way, should want a lot of repeat business from.”

Wendy tensed her jaw a little at the thought of having to repeat Friday night’s debacle that ended with her running naked through the countryside.

“So.” Skip continued. “If those girls come back in here and want to take you somewhere and have you dance for them and do…whatever-” He waved both hands as he spoke. “-then you let them do it. Any of the other girls would have killed for that gig.”

“You-you don’t understand.” Wendy shuffled in her boots. “They, those girls, they didn’t just want me to dance. All they really wanted to do was…” She swallowed, preparing herself to utter the words aloud. “They tickled me. They were tickling the other girls too in the private rooms before I left, ask any of them. Sapphire, Scarlet…”

“I read your bit in the paper, I don’t care.” The irritable man shook his head. “If they want to tickle you, let them tickle you. You could have made out very well, we all could have with the way those girls were tipping.”

“You don’t get it.” Slumping her shoulders, the bosomy woman resigned herself to the fact few people could ever understand her plight.

“Listen-“ Skip said, standing up from his chair. “-your job, your only job, is to bring money into this place.” The older man’s mood seemed to lighten a little as he rounded the desk toward Wendy. “If you can’t do that one thing because you’ve got some weird hang up about being tickled, then you need to get over it.”

“I wish I could!” Wendy said, widening her eyes to drive home the point. “I can’t just get it over it Skip. You just can’t understand, but I’m super ticklish! It’s not the same for you.”

“Well then if you can’t get over it…” The silver haired man said as he stepped closer, very much into the blonde’s personal space. “Maybe you just need to get used to it!”

“Hey!” The buxom girl shifted her hips quickly as Skip’s left hand darted up and pinched her side.

“You’ll pay one way or another girl!” Skip said, clawing both hands toward the voluptuous young woman’s midsection.

“Eeeha! Noho!” Wendy squealed, stumbling backward as she tried to fend off her boss’ invading fingers. “Dohon’t!”

In a flurry of clumsy action the buxom girl’s fleshy cleavage jiggled as she tried to avoid Skip’s surprise tickle attack. Backing her well-rounded butt right into the office door, the sensitive girl’s handbag slid clean off her shoulder and landed on the floor. With nowhere left to go, Wendy planted her back directly against the door and tried her best to focus on fighting back. Caught of guard and outmatched in both height and strength, the big man looming over her had little trouble snaking around the blonde’s feeble defenses.

“See?! You could’ve got paid to do this!” Skip said, pressing his body up against the awkwardly dancing girl, effectively pinning her to the door as he goosed her sides. “Now you’re just getting tickled for free!”

“Noeeheehee! Skip!” Trapped between her boss’ torso and the door behind, the poor girl’s big blue eyes were wide, as she couldn’t even get a decent grip on his quickly wiggling fingers. “Stop! Eeeha! Stop it!”

“I’ll stop when I get my money’s worth!” The unkempt man said, unrelenting as he squeezed both hands up and down from the fitful girl’s hips to her ribs. “Including the future business we probably lost!”

“Nohoahaha! Skipstop! Aeheeheeii! Wendy gasped as she took hold of the older man’s forearms and strained to pull them away.

Naturally the painfully ticklish girl’s efforts to wrestle her boss were no use. Her laughter increasing in both pitch and frequency, Wendy knew her only way out was down. Unfortunately, as she knew well from past experience, dropping to the floor was a high risk, high reward maneuver. Much to her disdain, Skip’s sudden attack was not the first time the chesty dancer had found herself pinned and tickled between a man and a hard surface.

A little over a year before Wendy had been in the all too familiar situation with a rather dashing one-night stand. Seeing no other choice she had collapsed onto the boy’s bedroom floor, where fortunately the single evening lover decided to end his playful assault and move on to far more favorable activities. Two years prior to that successful escape however, Wendy had attempted the same move and it backfired miserably. In that instance, caught between the fridge in her mother’s trailer and her older sister’s boyfriend, the voluptuous young woman threw herself downward only for the boy to climb on top of her and continue tickling.

“Where you going?!” Skip said as his loudly laughing employee slid down the doorway and joined her handbag on the floor.

“No! Ehehee! Nowhere!” Realizing immediately that her daring maneuver had failed the busty girl launched herself onto all fours. Trying to crawl away, Wendy scrambled halfway passed her boss’ legs before his tickling fingers caught up with her. “Eeeiiii!” She tensed trying to keep herself from falling any further as Skip’s determined digits dug into her tender ribs. Batting one hand behind herself to try and swat the man away, Wendy’s cheeks were blushing pink. “Stohohop! Eeeheh! You dick! Aheehee!”

“A dick am I?!” The tall man said, probably less offended than he was acting. Skip got called a lot worse on a daily basis, no doubt.

Drilling his fingertips harshly into the soft spots between the girl’s heaving ribs caused her to spasm wildly. The one arm holding her off the floor buckled as she screamed and Wendy’s upper half toppled down, leaving her shapely ass in the air. Flapping both arms and still trying to wriggle away, the curvaceous blonde’s panicked movements caused her teeny tiny miniskirt to fall upward. Getting nowhere fast as Skip continued to hammer at her ribs, the unfortunate wardrobe malfunction exposed her almost entirely bare butt cheeks and the thin thread of a neon pink g-string between them.

“About time you did something useful!” Skip teased, giving the flustered girl’s plump right ass cheek a firm squeeze.

“YEEII!” Wendy shrieked, shooting her legs out backward and leaving her entire body face down on the floor.

“You are a stripper!” The older man said, dropping to his knees as he grabbed at the bottom of his employee’s form fitting t-shirt. “So strip!”

“Nono!” Rolling on to one side as her creamy white midriff was exposed, the powerless girl struggled to keep her shirt down. “I’ll pay! I’ll pay!” She wheezed, rapidly pushing at her boss’ big hands.

“You are paying!” Skip said, forcing the thin material up and over the blonde’s bulbous breasts. Barely contained by a lacey purple bra, the bosomy dancer’s cushy flesh ballooned out from the top and sides. “With interest!”

“Eiiiieee!” The poor girl curled into the fetal position as the handsome older man’s fingers poked riotously into her bare tummy.

A wide-open mouth grin involuntarily plastered across her face, Wendy had been rapidly losing control since the moment Skip first pinched her. The more seconds of cruel tickling went by the less her frantic movements were made by conscious decision. Her cheeks red and far more of her hyperticklish skin on display than bearable, the cackling girl was acting more on instinct with every pinch and poke. Buckled over the devilish man’s hands, Wendy gathered up whatever scraps of willpower she could find and took an open-handed swing toward his face.

“Nice try!” Skip said, the girl’s hand sailing clean by his jaw by at least two inches. Tragically the bold attempt at a slap not only misfired, it also exposed the blonde’s barely covered underarm, which her attacker took full advantage of.

“AHHH! AAHAHA!” Clamping her arm down quickly, the hapless young woman roared with laughter as the man’s wiggling fingers wormed into her silky smooth hollow.

With her arm held tightly to her side, Wendy had trapped her boss’ fingers in the exact spot she didn’t want them. Lifting her arm again would surely expose more of her agonizingly ticklish flesh, but keeping it there held his dastardly digits stroking deep into her underarm. There was no good option, and as Skip’s other hand clawed at her abdomen with his fingers spread wide the flailing girl could do little but laugh loudly and kick her long legs to no avail.

“Skip.” A familiar voice said from the doorway, and went ignored. “Skip!” She said again, the older man not responding as he continued to drive poor Wendy out of her mind. “SKIP!”

“What?!” The tall club owner snapped, finally turning around and pulling his hands off the partially disrobed blonde in the process.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scarlet said from the open door. Gasping for air on the floor, the center of her tummy a light shade of pink, Wendy could recognize her fellow stripper’s fiery red mane a mile away.

“I’m teaching her a lesson-“ Skip said, turning back to the buxom blonde who had begun to make a not-so-stealthy retreat. Pausing for a moment, the much stronger man grabbed a firm hold of Wendy’s left wrist. “-in fiscal responsibility.”

“Well can you stop?” Scarlet huffed, paying no attention to the wincing girl struggling to free herself from their boss’ grip. “We can hear her all the way down the hall.”

“Unless you want to swap places, get back to work.” The noticeably irritated man said, flexing his arm as Wendy continued to try and pry herself free. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

“Fine…” The disgruntled woman said with a roll of her eyes and started to step back out into the hall.

“Nono! Scarlet!” Wendy said, frantically shaking her firmly held arm. “Scarlet, WAIT!”

“Enough out of you.” Skip said, turning his attention back to the bosomy blonde as the office door clicked shut behind him. Pulling the girl’s arm toward him, the silver haired club owner swung one leg over her hips and straddled her, squeezing his legs tight. Forced onto her back, Wendy struggled to drag herself out from under the overbearing man.

“I learned my lesson! I did!” The desperate girl said, eager to say anything that might end her woeful trouble. Before she could even think of a more promising negotiation any success was quickly dashed as Skip hooked his fingers under the top of each bra cup and yanked them downward. “Skip!” Wendy squawked, quickly covering her now very bare boobs as they spilled out into the open.

“I told you to strip!” Taking each of her slender wrists in his hands, the larger man easily pulled her arms out to each side. Wendy’s big pink nipples sat erect atop her puffy areoles, her huge boobs pushed up by the bra that had been stuffed just underneath.

“Skip-unh-stop!” The bare breasted blonde winced, shaking her head as her boss pinned her hands down either side of her head.

“What are you more upset about, hm?” Skip said, keeping his busty employee firmly held under him. “The stripping or the tickling?”

“The tickling!” The squirming girl stressed with great emphasis as she strained to push her arms up off the floor.

“Sucks to be you.” The older man said without a shadow of empathy. Releasing the leggy girl’s wrists, he immediately shot his hands down to her fully exposed sides.

“Nyyaaaheeeiiiheeehee!” Wendy exploded, curling upward and tensing her abdomen. Clambering her hands at her boss’ deep-diving fingers the loudly giggling girl kept her upperbody held upright as she shook her long hair madly. The top of her head pressed against Skip’s chest, the frenzied blonde’s big naked boobs jiggled between them. Unable to fight her way free, Wendy threw herself back toward the floor and twisted herself in an effort to grab at the floor.

“Those rich girls wanted to tickle your naked ass-“ The bare chested girl’s employer said as he dug five fingers viciously into her abdomen. “-so that’s what you get!”

“Naaahahaha!” Rolling from side to side, her long legs kicking out behind the taller man, the desperate dancer’s umpteenth escape attempt had failed before it began. “Skiiihihihip! Eeeeheeheiii!” Batting helplessly at the man’s sporadically moving hands the furiously giggling girl could no longer finish a single word without laughing, but a rapidly declining vocabulary was the least of her problems. Almost as alarming as the tickling itself was a feeling Wendy had only felt once or maybe twice before, and it was infinitely more confusing than being terribly ticklish. What the feverishly laughing girl felt as Skip’s ten fingers raced up and down her convulsing sides was the unmistakable, and very much involuntary sensation, of being hotly aroused.

Her swollen nipples were a key indicator but as a rogue finger swiped far too close to her belly button, the bewildered blonde felt the familiar glow of lust. As Wendy’s eyes shot open wide and her entire face turned bright red she recalled in flashes of unwanted memory the previous times her body had betrayed her in similar fashion. Perplexing as it was infuriating, the first time the trapped young woman had been turned on while being tickled was in the company of a fellow student back in her senior year of high school. Jason Whitmore, the popular and secretly sinister star football player, had given Wendy the worst tickling of her life by a country mile. The second time had not been until the very same incident that lead her to being tormented on her boss’ office floor. Friday night, the girls in white. Six of them surrounding her naked body.

Unable to shake the memories as Skip’s vile hands explored her torso without pause, the wordlessly laughing blonde knew she would soon start to moisten her panties. Shamefully, Wendy had given herself cause over the years to think back on her time with Jason Whitmore and the horror he put her through. Without question the torturous tickling Jason had subjected her to had been the worst experience of the buxom girl’s young life. Yet every now and then, in her most private moments, Wendy would recall that nightmarish day and gingerly slip her hand down between her thighs. Some nights she would wake from actual nightmares of the fingers that stroked and flickered all over her most sensitive spots. On those nights, she always woke wet.

“Skip!” Scarlet’s voice barked again. The tall man turned faster that time, just as tears were beginning to well in the breathless blonde’s eyes.

“I told you-“ Skip began through gritted teeth, only to be cut off by his redheaded employee standing at the door.

“Wendy’s on in five minutes.” The unamused woman said sharply. “She’s going to be late for her set.”

Turning away from the door, the silver haired man looked down at the loudly gasping girl between his knees. Wendy’s cheeks and forehead were beet red, her eyes welling with tears. Long dirty-blonde hair splayed out underneath her. Her naked breasts raised and lowered with each quick, heavy breath and almost every inch from her ribs down to her hips was coloured a bright pink hue. As much as the obvious bulge beneath Skip’s jeans wanted him to keep her there, the money Wendy would earn on stage was just that much more tempting.

“Go get yourself cleaned up.” The tall man said nonchalantly as he climbed off of the half-exhausted girl. “You and I can settle up later.”

“One more thing.” Scarlet said as her boss wandered back behind his desk.

“What?”

“Not you, her.” The blazing haired woman said, pointing to her disheveled coworker on the floor a few feet away. “You got a message, hun. Some girl wanting you to call.”

“What girl?” Wendy asked, scrunching her face a little as she tugged her bra back up.

“Hopefully it’s them chicks from Friday.” Skip said as he slumped back into his chair.

“No, I don’t think so.” Scarlet said, shaking her head. “Said her name was Emma.”

Chapter Three: Interview With a Victim (#1)

On her break Wendy called the number from the message that had been left and was surprised to hear the voice of Emma Clark. While the two had shared a few classes together throughout high school and were cordial enough in their rare exchanges, neither ever knew the other very well. After some pleasantries and small talk, Emma invited Wendy for coffee whenever she might be free. This was how Emma Clarke and Wendy Starr met each other at 9pm in a small late night café a couple of blocks from the Glitter Grabber club. It was not the last time the two ever saw each other in person, but it was how they best liked to remember each other.

“This is so weird!” Wendy said, just as bubbly and cheerful as Emma remembered her, or at least she was pretending to be.

“Yeah, it’s pretty crazy…” Emma said as the taller girl wrapped her arms around the redhead and gave her an affectionate hug.

“So, New York huh?” The giddy blonde grinned, pulling back from the hug and giving the smaller woman a friendly push on the shoulder. “That’s got to be amazing!”

“Huh, yeah. It’s different alright.” Finding it difficult to feign joy in the presence of the one person she felt so much guilt for. “Shall we sit?”

“Oh yeah!” Wendy said, tossing her small handbag onto the table. “You have GOT to tell me about New York!”

“Uh…well…New York.” Sitting opposite the long legged young woman, Emma’s own outfit of jeans and a t-shirt seemed far more modest than Wendy’s miniskirt. “It’s um, it’s big alright.”

“Oh, of course it’s big! Even I knew that!” Waving a hand, the taller girl laughed.

“Well, why don’t you come out sometime?” Emma said. She certainly didn’t judge Wendy for her choices after graduation. Still, the redhead’s question was prompted by the thought that perhaps their hometown wasn’t giving the young Ms. Starr a lot of opportunity in life. “You know somewhere there now.” She smiled.

“Really? Haha!” The taller girl said. “Can you imagine, me in New York City? I bet they have some fine strip clubs there huh?”

Emma looked around the quiet café, laughing sheepishly at the chance anyone had overheard the blonde. “There’s plenty of work. I’d could even help you find something, if you’d like.”

Wendy paused, she looked down at the table and laughed softly. “You’re real sweet Em’.” The broad smile she had worn since the moment the two girls had met dimmed slightly, though didn’t disappear completely. “You know, I think you’re the first person who’s ever made me an offer like that without wanting to get into my pants.”

“You have my number now.”

“Yeah…” The buxom girl said, slipping into silent thought for a few seconds. When the thought was done her big blue eyes lit up and her broad grin returned, like a light switch going on in the dancer’s head. “And you, the big city reporter!”

“Heh, yeah. Not quite, but-“ The smaller girl said, quickly cut off by the vivacious woman sitting opposite.

“Now, now!” Wendy said. “Don ‘t down play it, you’ve gone a lot further than most folk from this town. Heck, I bet you’ve broken a bunch of big stories already!”

“You never know.” The curvy journalist said, making a point to make direct eye contact. “Right now I’m kind of thinking the story’s here.”

“Haha oh yeah, I was pretty surprised to get your call.” Wendy said, wobbling her head in a fanciful fashion. “I’m guessing you want to know about the other night?”

“If you’re okay to talk about it. If not, we can enjoy our coffee. And my offer still stands about New York, either way.”

Tapping her long nails on the table, the busty blonde thought for a moment. “I guess…you’re not going to use my name are you?”

“Nono.” Emma said with a quick shake of her head. “This is just exploratory. Fact gathering. No names until later, if I need them, and then I won’t mention you if you don’t want.”

“Okay well, I’ll tell you whatever you want but they already did a story. I think you might be late to the party.”

“The thing is Wendy…” The redhead hesitated. She had thought about Wendy and her time trapped in Mr. Lucas’ office a great deal. For the entire plane ride Emma had debated with herself whether or not to confess that she had been there that evening, right outside the office door. In the moment, finally face to face with the source of her internal conflict, she remained undecided. “That story they did, I don’t think it really told the true story. That piece, the way it was written, it was like a…”

“It wasn’t very dramatic.” Wendy said, surprising Emma with her perceptiveness.

“No. No, it wasn’t.” Emma said. “In fact I’d go so far as to say it was silly. They completely glossed over what happened to you and focused almost everything on the farmers who found you.” The freckle-faced girl’s mood soured considerably, irritated by the notion of sloppy, irresponsible journalism. “I’d like to know what happened before you met Mr. and Mrs. Brown. When you met the girls in white, and how you ended up in the countryside.”

“The girls in white…” The blonde repeated in a whisper as she let her mind reel back to a few days before. “Well, they weren’t in white when I first met ‘em.” Wendy said, her smile turning from gleeful to almost non-existent as she went on to tell the untold tale of her previous Friday. “I work the afternoons mostly, it’s slow until around dinner time except for the occasional bunch of yuppies who come in for a business lunch or whatever. Friday, ‘round three maybe, everything’s quiet, normal day and these…” The blonde paused as if trying to think of another word. “…girls come in. They’re all young and pretty.”

“How were they dressed?” Emma asked.

“Normal? Like normal women out for a good time.” The buxom girl turned out her bottom lip a little. “Anyway, they come in and like, right away they’re throwing cash around. They all had money to burn. Me and the other dancers, we were loving it. Pulling out all our best moves. Have you ever thought about strippin’?”

“It never occurred to me.”

“You could…” Wendy grinned, looking the suddenly rather bashful redhead up and down. “You’ve always had that whole cute thing going on, but I can tell you’re hot as a Carolina pepper underneath!”

“Let’s just…let’s get back to you.” Emma blushed, scratching the back of her neck where there was no itch.

“Haha, alright you.” The blonde said through her amused grin. “Where was I? Oh right, so these girls are tipping and buying drinks and then after a bit they start getting private dances. The owner, Skip-” Wendy’s demeanor shifted briefly, her expression turning to one of borderline anger. “-who is an asshole, by the way-” She said and returned quickly back to her cheerful self. “-he’s about ready to cream his jeans at all the money we were making. But, and I didn’t think anything of it at the time, all the girls kept ticklin’ us. You know, you’re not really supposed to let customers touch you but with the private dances there’s a curtain so…and besides, it was girls right? What are they gonna do?”

“You and the other dancers, you didn’t mind that they were tickling you?”

“It wasn’t like it was a whole lot.” Wendy said. “I could hear the other girls laughing a little a bit and I got pinched or whatever a couple times. It was playful, there was no reason to think it was anything more than that.”

“And now?” Emma said, lifting her coffee cup halfway off the table. “You think it was something else?”

“Honestly? And you can all me crazy if you want.” The blonde said. “I think they were testing us. I think they were trying to figure out which of us was the most ticklish.”

“Why do you think someone would do that?”

“Well I’ve been wondering that since Friday and I still don’t know.” Wendy laughed a little. “I get it with boys, but girls I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh you know boys.” The taller girl said as she looked up from under her neatly trimmed brow. “Boys’ll tickle you just to tickle you, especially if you’re ticklish. Gives them an excuse to put their hands on you, or they’re just mean, or both. Just this morning my boss tickled the shit out of me, the bastard.”

“Your boss?” Emma said, even more confused by Wendy’s continued run-ins with tickling than she was already. Perhaps Wendy, by some cosmic smack of terrible luck, was just a magnet for being tickled. Perhaps there was no story after all.

“Right on his office floor, can you believe that?” The busty girl said. “Perv had some excuse about owing money cause of what happened Friday. Those girls really did a number on me, you know?”

“So you went with them, the girls?”

“Hm…yeah. I guess we’re getting to it now, aren’t we?” Wendy said, nodding gently. “We go on house calls or outcalls, whatever, all the time. Bachelor parties, that sort of thing. Skip gets a cut, we make better money than we would on stage. Everyone wins.”

“Is it normal to end up that far out of the city?” The redhead said before taking a sip of her drink.

Shaking her head, the bosomy girl said “No, no way. I still don’t even really know where we were. They had a big limo, windows were all blacked out. Couldn’t see anything.”

“How long were you driving for, do you know?”

“Mmm…” Wendy pursed her full lips off to one side and looked up in the opposite direction as she thought. “We were really out in the sticks. An hour and a half, maybe two.”

“You ended up in a house?” The redhead said.

“A house, no.” The blonde laughed and shook her head. “This was uh, a palace. Not really, but a mansion definitely.”

“I see.” Emma said with one eyebrow raised. She didn’t see at all, in fact she was completely baffled by the whole scenario. A thousand question rattled around in her head and none of the answers the inquisitive girl could imagine made even a little sense. “What about the ride out there? Did the girls do anything or…?”

“Nothing.” The buxom girl said, sounding a little surprised. “They talked, mostly to each other. Kind of ignored me actually, until we got there.”

“Was anyone else there, at the mansion?”

“The place was so big, I have no idea.” Wendy said. “I didn’t see anybody. We just went inside, up this huge set of stairs and into a…not a living room really, more like…like kind of a hang out room? Leather couches in a circle. It was kind of weird.”

“What did you think at the time?”

“I thought I was going to be making a lot of money.” The blonde quipped, chuckling at her own wit. “No, I didn’t really think anything was off until the girls left me alone. Said they were going to go freshen up, came back a few minutes later and they were all wearing like, kind of spandex?”

“Spandex?”

“Something like that.” Wendy said, and it seemed clear her mind had already moved on to the next part of her sorrowful story. “I danced…they watched, except for the white suits and the giant mansion it was all pretty normal. Then…” She paused for a long moment, staring at her coffee. “...when I was done, I mean naked, they all got up to dance with me.”

“Is that unusual?”

“No, no it was fine. Even kind of fun at first.” The voluptuous dancer said. “But after a few minutes, just a little bit, they started tickling me. They kept doing it more and more. I guess I should have figured it out but…”

“You couldn’t have known.” Emma said, her sympathy genuine. Imagining herself in a similar scenario sent a chill up the shorter girl’s spine.

“Well, you might not get this, but I have this thing, when I’m tickled really bad?” The leggy girl asked rhetorically. “I tend to just end up on the floor.”

“Oh no…I understand. Believe me.”

“Really?” Wendy laughed softly, relieved by the rare show of empathy on the subject. “It’s the worst, isn’t it?” She lowered her voice, careful so as only Emma could hear. “All they need to do is wiggle a finger and we’re just putty in their hands…is it like that for you?”

“More or less.” Emma nodded, knowing full well she had never experienced the lengths of torment Wendy had.

“I hate that, the loss of power. Controlled by something so small.” The blonde continued. “One minute I’m dancing and the next minute I’m on the floor laughing my ass off. All six of those bitches were tickling me and I am screaming for them to stop. The fun was over, you know?”

“I can imagine.” The budding journalist said, recalling with great dread the sounds of Wendy’s howling laughter from years before. “How did you get away?”

“Okay so, this is the really, really weird part.” Wendy said, raising her eyebrows and pausing for dramatic effect. “At some point, I don’t know exactly when, some of the girls started tickling each other. None of them seemed to really enjoy being tickled, I don’t think, but they really enjoyed being one of the ticklers. Eventually I noticed they were all so busy having this giant tickle fight they pretty much forgot about me. I didn’t even grab my clothes, I just ran like hell.”

“They let you go?”

“Oh no, they chased me.” The taller girl said, her lips smiling but her eyes distant, a little sad. “I was so scared because….because I knew if they caught me they wouldn’t bother tickling each other anymore. They were going to get me and…well, I really don’t want to think about what they would have done.”

“Do you mean they would have hurt you?” Emma said, narrowing her eyes.

The shapely blonde shook her head. “No, nono. They weren’t interested in pain or anything like that. Suffering, I think…I think they enjoyed that part, making whoever they were tickling upset. It was always tickling though. And like, I’m running and I can’t help thinking about what they’re going to do if they catch me, and I’m laughing. Like really laughing.”

“But you weren’t being tickled at the time?”

“Once I got away they never touched me.” Wendy said. “Dancing five days a week keeps me pretty fit.” She said, sliding her coffee cup around the table aimlessly. “It’s like…it’s hard to explain. Have you ever had someone stop tickling you, or about to tickle you, and you keep laughing anyway?

“No, but I think I know what you mean.” The redhead said, sympathetic to her new friend.

“Okay so, it was like that.” Wendy said. “I was naked, terrified and laughing like crazy. It was a madhouse. I knew if I didn’t get away I’d be driven out of my mind.”

Emma shook her head in disbelief. She believed the bosomy blonde of course, she believed every word. From there, as Wendy told it, she had run through a maze of hallways, downstairs and finally found her way out through a kitchen window. As best the bubbly girl could remember she had spent the rest of the night, bare ass under the stars before running into the elderly farmers. Old Mr. Brown had given Wendy a ride home in his pick up truck, in which she promptly passed out, exhausted.

Over the course of the next hour Emma asked every question she could think of to gather more detail. Wendy, helpful though she wanted to be, had little memory of much beyond the broad strokes from her Friday evening. Naturally the investigative redhead could not blame the buxom blonde, and imagined she herself would not be a lot of help either after such an experience. Worst of all, there seemed to be no connection between the girls in white, Jason Whitmore and Mr. Lucas. When Emma and Wendy parted ways and promised to hang out again, Emma knew she would need to conduct more interviews.

Continued...
 
Chapter Four: Girls in White​

In the comfort of her own modest apartment Wendy Starr stepped out of her steamy bathroom with nothing else besides her pink bunny slippers on and a fluffy white towel wrapped around her. Tucked in tight just under her left arm, the straining towel barely contained the ballooning cleavage of her huge breasts. The blonde’s well-rounded butt was barely covered, the bottoms of her cheeks where they creased against her thick thighs flexed in the open air.

Pushing wet hair out of her eyes as she stepped into her living room, Wendy thought back fondly to her coffee with Emma Clark the night before. Talking so openly about being tickled with someone so understanding had been freeing. So few people, perhaps none in the curvaceous blonde’s life, had ever truly empathized with her debilitating sensitivity. Far more often than she cared to remember there were those who took advantage of her excruciating ticklishness. Most everyone else in Wendy’s experience brushed any concerns she had off as silly or something she should get over. The ones who exploited her weakness though, those were the worst.

Stopping just outside her bathroom door to glance out the window, the barely-covered blonde could have sworn she saw movement out the corner of her eye. Wendy had toyed with the idea of maybe getting a cat. In the split second it took her to look out of the second story, think about a cat and turn back toward her couch the bosomy girl kind of hoped a random cat had found it’s way into her apartment. The morning had been pretty good so far, she thought, a new cat friend would make the whole day great. What Wendy saw when did turn however, were three young women.

At either end of her couch two of the girls sat casually, while the third stood a foot or so in front of them. They all wore the same thing, zip-up hoodies and tear-away pants, both in black, and socks that were stark white. Wendy recognized the pants as tear-aways immediately, they were common in her line of work. Her heart skipping several beats at the sudden sight of three people in her single occupant apartment, the blonde’s big blue eyes moved quickly between the uninvited guests.

On the far right sat a slender, olive-skinned brunette. She had a coy smirk across her lips and well manicured nails that she used to softly scratch the arm of the chair. On the left was a much curvier girl who had light skin and long, jet-black hair. Standing directly between the two was the youngest of the three, she stood around 5’5ft, had wide hips and dark skin. The middle girl had the broadest of the visitor’s smiles, and a bust so big it stretched her otherwise loose fitting hoodie. Her black hair was styled in thick braids, much thicker than they had been in high school. Though it took a moment, Wendy soon recognized the young black girl as Tanya Lowe.

“Tanya?” The skimpily covered blonde said when her heart finally decided to start pumping again.

“Hello Wendy.” Tanya said as if greeting an old friend, and certainly not as if she had just broken into someone’s home.

Much like with Emma, Tanya and Wendy had never been terribly close. The woman who now stood so confidently in her apartment had shared much of the same friend group with the voluptuous blonde during high school. They chatted, went to the same parties, but were never the type to hang out one-on-one outside of school. The most notable thing Wendy could recall about Tanya was that she had seemed to sort of fall off the face of the planet during the spring of their senior year. Naturally rumors about where Tanya had gone flew thick and fast, but the most popular and plausible among them was that she had transferred to some sort of private school. Looking back on it, the idea the dark haired girl would have switched schools just a few months before graduation made little sense.

“Is…is everything okay?” Wendy said. She didn’t know why she said it, but over three years had passed since they’d seen each other and it was the first thing that popped into her head.

“Of course.” A few inches shorter though she was, the brown eyed girl’s demeanor was as disarming as it was intimidating. “We’re doing great. There are my friends-“ Tanya said, tilting her head to her right. “-Maria-“ She shifted her head left, toward the olive-skinned girl. “-and Ana. They’re very happy to meet you.”

“Hi.” Ana said, her voice sultry and soft.

“H-hi.” The confused blonde said with a tiny wave before she gathered her senses. “Wait…how did you get in? Why…why are you even here?”

“We wanted to chat with you, Wendy.” Tanya said as if the answer were obvious. “You’ve had an…interesting time, the last few days.”

“I-I don’t know.” The buxom girl said, no less clued in to what was occurring than she had been before the apparently obvious answer. “You-you can’t just come in here, Tanya. You guys, I-I’m not even dressed.”

“You met some of our friends the other night.” The bold home-invader said. “Now, they were out of line and what they did was…very naughty.”

Wendy looked quickly from Maria, to Tanya, to Ana and back again. Her mind racing, the towel-covered girl tried to understand just what the heck was happening in her living room. In the back of her busy brain, Wendy couldn’t help but think Emma would have figured it out right away. After a few seconds the befuddled dancer’s train of thought stopped at the right station. It was Friday night, coming back to haunt her yet again. Caught somewhere between bafflement and disbelief, Wendy remained silent.

Tanya took a step closer toward her blonde host, closing the gap between them by a foot or so. “You don’t need to worry about them though. Those girls have been severely punished, believe me.” The shapely uninvited guest said with a glint in her eye that made Wendy’s heart skip again. “What we’re here to chat about is how much, exactly, you told the media.”

“I-I didn’t!” Wendy said, her back to the window. “That-that wasn’t me. It was the old farmers, they were the ones in the story!”

“Don’t lie Wendy.” The dark haired girl took another small step forward. She looked the flustered blonde up and down then quickly licked her full lips. “You’re not built for it.”

“I’m not! I swear!” The bosomy girl said, trying to back up even the tiniest bit.

“That wasn’t Emma Clark we saw you talking to last night?”

“You-you saw me?” Wendy said, furrowing her brow. “So y-y-you what? You followed me around?”

“We would have come sooner but…” Tanya cocked her head and smirked. “…we were busy all weekend helping to reprimand those girls you met. By the time we caught up with you, you were already at work. Then you met with Emma…after that it just seemed like you’d be better off after a good night’s rest.”

“Look I- Emma and I we just had coffee, we just-“ Tripping over her own words, the skimpily covered girl decided offense might be a better idea than retreat. “Listen you, you can’t be here. I’ve-I’ve got things to do, I have work in like an hour, you need to-“

“You and Emma were never that close.” Tanya said, unfazed by the still dripping young woman’s protest. “And we both know she’s a journo now. Ana, Maria and me? We’re real curious about what you talked about for so long last night.”

“No. No, no.” Speaking in as a defiant tone as she could, the taller girl took a step toward her former fellow student. “You three, I’m sorry, you need to go. This is my house, you can’t just come in here.”

“Now Wendy-“ The black-clad young woman began in a slightly scolding tone, only to be talked right over.

“No, I said.” Wendy spoke sternly and pointed toward her front door on the far side of the room. “Now you need to leave. I’m done. I’m done with all this craziness, whatever it is! I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Looking back over her shoulders one by one, Tanya glanced at her two eerily calm associates. “What do you think girls?”

“Honestly…” Maria said, pausing to look their unwitting host up and down from wet hair to fluffy slippers. “I’m just thrilled she wants to do it the hard way.”

“Me too.” Said Ana, the corners of her full lips rising in a most unnerving smile.

“Right then.” The girl with braided hair said as she turned her attention back to the irritated blonde. “Last chance Wendy. Tell us what you told Emma, or you know what happens next.” Tanya said, raising her right hand into the air and slowly wiggling her five fingers.

Freezing in place, Wendy had not even considered the possibility of being made to talk. Up until that moment the befuddled blonde had been so caught up in the three unexpected visitors and their cryptic reasons for being in her living room that the thought they might try to tickle her never entered her mind. Quite familiar with being nude before groups of people, it was only in seeing Tanya’s threateningly dancing fingers that it dawned on her how terribly vulnerable she really was. Unlike the surprise of seeing the three women in her apartment, the thought of them tickling her didn’t make Wendy’s heart skip. In fact, as the bosomy young woman stood there in naught but her towel and slippers, her heart was racing a mile a minute.

“Nonono! Y-you need to leave!” Wendy turned her pointed finger to a ‘stop’ hand and used her other hand to grab nervously at her towel.

“We’re not leaving…” Moving closer, the dark haired girl looked up from under her brow as she started wiggling all ten fingers toward the blonde.

“O-okay!” Stepping back into the wall beside the window, the trembling girl darted her eyes between the kitchen and the bathroom door in a rapid evaluation for escape. “Please, please stop! I can’t think!”

“We’re not stopping…” Tanya said, continuing her painstakingly slow advance toward the cowering girl.

“Wait, wait!” Keeping her hand up, the muddled girl watched in horror as both Maria and Ana stood up off the couch. “I can’t! I cahahan’t!” Wendy laughed, nerves getting the better of her. “We-we just-I told Emma! I told her what happened, that’s it! A-about your friends and the big house! But she doesn’t know anything! I don’t know anything! I don’t know where the house is, I swear! I don’t want to know!”

“I’m not sure I believe you…” Her daunting digits coming within a foot of the bosomy blonde, the brown-eyed girl sped up her wiggling.

“Noho!” Wendy yelled and ducked toward the kitchen, only to come face to face with Ana. Whipping back toward the bathroom, her last and best hope, the skittish girl’s path was blocked by Maria. All three of her unwanted trespassers held their hands in the air, wiggling their fingertips directly toward the poor girl. “Oh god! Oh no! Pleeheeheese!” She giggled, pressing her barely covered butt into the wall and pulling her arms in around herself.

“Tickle her!” Tanya said, and in unison the three invaders pounced on their horribly outnumbered prey.

“Naahahaha! Naheeheee! Nooohohoho!” Twisting and turning as thirty devilish digits poked and prodded at her towel, the wildly giggling girl hopped hopelessly with no good place to turn.

Her tightly squished boobs jiggling as she reeled with laughter the hapless dancer could already feel her towel’s tenuous tie begin to loosen. Whipping her long wet hair as she shook, Wendy flapped her arms madly as impish fingers slipped into any spot where her hands weren’t covering. Nimble claws pinched into her fluffy white torso, the squealing young woman swatting frantically as if swarmed on by tickling beetles. Any attempts to press her way out from between the three women were instantly met with a vicious lobster claw to the tummy, sending Wendy retreating back against the wall.

“Ahaha! Nahaha! Ohnoho!” Craning her neck back as she danced awkwardly, the wide-eyed girl looked up to the ceiling. A rogue fingertip grazed across the side of the blonde’s left breast, right where her fleshy bosom was bulging over the top of the towel. That singular stroke directly on her hypersensitive skin caused Wendy to rock backward, loosening her only protection almost entirely. “Yeeheehee! Noho! My tohowel! My tooowhoowwel! Eheehee!”

Fumbling to keep her towel on, the desperate dancer opened the lower half of her torso up to a full blown thirty-finger attack. Maria, Ana and Tanya all clawed viciously at the blonde’s convulsing tummy and sides. Shrieking with laughter, Wendy buckled over, her towel slipping down to her hips and her big bare boobs spilling out. Hunched over, the helpless girl’s choices were both devastating. On the one hand she could continue to try and salvage the last little bit of her towel that flapped loosely around her wildly squirming hips, but that meant not using her hand to fend off the trio of ticklers. Wendy’s other option was to drop the towel and try to shield herself, which meant she would be completely nude, save for her slippers.

“Noho! Nohahaha! Please!” The topless girl danced fretfully, surrounded by her three interrogators. “I cahahahan’t!”

“Sure you can!” Ana said, digging five fingers into the dancer’s supple side. “Here, let me help!” The brunette said and quickly snatched away the useless towel.

“Ahhno!” Wendy yelped, reaching out for the stolen towel as it flew to the floor behind Ana. Not quick enough and quite disoriented, the buxom girl’s desperate attempt inadvertently exposed her silky smooth underarm. Having a great deal to contend with in the moment as Maria and Tanya’s fingers continued scurrying over her body, Wendy only noticed her mistake when Ana’s deft digits dived directly into her unprotected hollow. “AAHHEEHE!”

Launching back to full height, the howling girl’s bare pussy came on display for all to see. Her hefty boobs bouncing as she fought to remove five wiggling fingers from her underarm, Wendy could do nothing about the other twenty fingertips racing around her slender midriff and drilling between her tender ribs. Her brow wrinkled with worry, the loudly laughing girl’s full lips continually morphed from a broad, toothy grin to open mouth misery. As she strained to tug Ana’s fingers out from under her arm, Wendy couldn’t help but recall flashes of her terrifying time on Friday night. Remembering very well how quickly she had collapsed, the frantically pleading blonde now knew falling to the floor would not be any use with these women. Unfortunately as her panicked mind struggled to think of a better escape plan, the hopelessly ticklish girl’s knees turned to jelly anyway.

“Woah!” Maria said as she and Ana caught Wendy’s arms mid-fall. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Aha! Oh god! No more, no more!” The nude blonde gasped as the two women either side of her hoisted her back up.

“Wendy. Wendy…” Tanya said, taking a step back and holding one hand up in a calming motion. “Relax, relax.”

“Tanya, Tanya please! Nff!” The writhing girl said as she made a feeble attempt at pulling each of her arms out from the firm grips of the women holding her. “Just- I-I’ll do whatever you want! No-no more ticking! I’ve been tickled so much, please don’t, please!”

“I know.” The apparent leader of the home invaders said with a tone that nearly sounded like empathy. “And next you’re going to tell me you’ll do anything.”

“I will!” Wendy said, nodding with hurried agreement. “I swear! I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Hmm…” Looking to the floor, the curvaceous girl hummed thoughtfully before looking back up at her captive audience. “You’ll have to do exactly as I tell you. No complaining.”

“Yes! Yes, I promise!”

“Alright, but I’m trusting you.” Tanya said, nodding to her two friends. “Let’s go to your room.”

“M-my room?” The nude girl said sheepishly, eyeing her open bedroom door as Ana and Maria released her arms.

“Are you complaining?” Raising one eyebrow, Tanya gave a quick wiggle of five fingers in the air.

“Nono!” Wendy said, raising her hands defensively.

As the anxious girl began making her way across the living room in nothing but her bunny slippers she also eyed her front door. Though Wendy certainly hoped her obedience would keep tickling hands off of her, she knew that once they reached her bedroom any chance she might have of escape would be gone forever. She could make it to the front door, of that much the voluptuous young woman was confident. Her job kept her fit and with adrenaline on her side she would definitely be quick enough. The problem, Wendy thought as she made it halfway across the room, was that she would need to stop to unlock the deadbolt. Clicking the bolt, opening the door, it would take a precious second or two. With Ana, Tanya and Maria following right behind her, capture was practically guaranteed, along with the punishment she would surely receive for trying to flee. No, Wendy decided, her best chance, her only chance, was the bedroom.

“On the bed.” Tanya said as the four young women shuffled into the decent sized room. A couple of drawers hung open and there were clothes scattered around on the floor. Some makeup products littered the bedside table and a dark purple duvet hung half-off the queen size bed.

Hesitating at the foot of her own bed, Wendy tried to think of something, anything to say. Questions raced through her mind thick and fast. Just as the near nude blonde went to open her mouth, she heard her bedroom door click shut behind her. The closing door sealed the deal and she knew then the only option was to obey. Doing anything, saying anything that did not comply completely with her guest’s instructions would surely result in rolling around pitifully on the floor. As Wendy crawled up on to her bed, the curvy girl’s shapely bare butt flexed.

“Lay down flat, on your stomach.” Maria said, just as the naked blonde was about to turn around. Wendy found it strange that Tanya was not the one giving the order, but she knew not to question the difference out loud.

Doing as she was told, the nervous girl curled her arms around her bare midriff and laid down flat, her long legs sticking out behind her. Swallowing hard, Wendy looked back and around as best she could manage. Maria and Ana had remained at the foot of the bed, each moving to opposing corners. Tanya was slowly wandering up the right hand side, her dark brown eyes gradually working their way up the entire length of their host’s nubile body.

“Spread your legs.” Ana said plainly. “Nice and wide.”

“Mmn.” Wendy whimpered and squeezed her thick thighs together a little tighter. She thought back to the front door and wondered if there was any way she might somehow make it out into the hall.

“Problem?” Tanya asked as she leaned forward, placing her open palms on the wrinkled sheet. “Because if there’s a problem…”

“No!” The trembling girl shook her head as she looked up and over her shoulder at the girl with braided hair. “I-I’m doing it, I’m doing it!”

Instinct and better judgment seemed to have glued the apprehensive dancer’s legs together. Reluctant as she was to expose herself, Wendy had to concentrate quite hard indeed in order to make her long smooth legs part ways. Sliding her pink slippers across the bed sheet, the buxom girl spread her ankles wide, all the way to each corner of her mattress. A deep sense of instant regret making her concentration slip, the terribly vulnerable blonde was just about to close her legs again when she felt Ana and Maria’s hands clamp down on her calves. Her ankles pinned in place, Wendy flexed her peach shaped ass as she could feel how totally exposed her bare pussy had become.

“Ohh, you’re being such a good girl.” Tanya cooed as she lifted herself up onto the bed beside Wendy. “Keep this up and we might even reward you.”

While her dark-haired capturer crawled over top of her, the uncertain dancer could not begin to fathom what the trio of women considered a reward. Anxious and borderline terrified though she was, Wendy did feel some minor sense of relief in hearing her dedication to compliance was paying off. Whatever the blonde’s former fellow student and her accomplices wanted, whatever insane set of circumstances she had found herself in the last few days, it seemed clear in that moment that doing as she was told was the best way to be free of it all. In truth the leggy young woman’s life was not a fraction as glamorous as she would have liked, but even her less than ideal normal was significantly preferable to the bizarre world she had stumbled into since Friday.

“Put your arms behind your back.” Tanya said, straddling the nude girl just below her plump butt cheeks.

Wendy winced again, shuffling a little in her limited capacity as she felt the girl kneeling over her bring her weight down. With her bare ass protruding up between Tanya’s thick thighs, the hesitant blonde gingerly pulled her arms out from under herself. Sliding her hands up and around her own slender sides, the slightly trembling girl placed palms facing up right in the deep curve at the small of her back.

“What do you think girls?” The kneeling woman said, maneuvering the dancer’s wrists over one another. “Do we think Wendy here deserves a special treat?”

“Definitely.” Ana said as both she and Maria removed one hand each from the backs of the blonde’s legs, while keeping one hand holding her legs in place.

Feeling movement around her lower legs and Tanya’s weight shifting a little, Wendy furrowed her brow as she strained to look back over her shoulder. Unable to see much passed the girl sitting atop her, the worrisome blonde did notice her capturer reaching into the front pocket of her hoodie. Continuing to feel strange movement down by her slippers, the otherwise naked girl’s entire focus quickly snapped to the small length of white nylon rope Tanya pulled from her pocket. Tensing without thought, Wendy tugged at her crisscrossed wrists, which were held together by the kneeling woman’s other hand.

“Ohnono…” Wendy said, her voice a shaky whisper. “Y-you don’t need that!”

“Of course we do.” Tanya said as she began threading one end of the rope between the pinned girl’s arms. At that moment Wendy also felt the smooth bumps of similar rope being wound around her ankles.

“Oh please! Oh please no!” Squirming fitfully, the bosomy girl rolled fruitlessly under the restraining holds of the three unwelcome women. “I-I was good! I did what you said!”

“You did.” The woman kneeling over her said as she bound the rope around her slender wrists. “And we’re going to be nice to you, don’t worry.”

“J-just…just please…please don’t!” Wendy writhed as she felt the ropes tightening just above her slippers.

“Please don’t be nice?” Tanya said, tugging her own rope snug around the blonde’s wrists.

“No-nff! D-do whatever you want!” Wendy strained, pulling at the ropes that held all four of her limbs in place. “Please just don’t, please just don’t…”

“Please don’t what?” Placing her elbows down on the sheet either side of her pleading captive, the buxom woman leaned forward until her full lips were right beside the girl’s ear.

“You know what!”

“I know…” Tanya said huskily, her warm breath caressing the blonde’s neck. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Oh no! Oh no! PLEASE!” The struggling blonde said, each word heavier with stress than the one before it. All thought of reward or freedom for good behavior obliterated, Wendy was never quite as dense as her naturally bubbly demeanor made her appear. To the forcibly restrained young woman now tied naked to her own bed, it was all too obvious she had been well and truly swindled. She thought of the front door and the deadlock one last time, which may as well have been a thousand miles away.

“Say it…” Tanya whispered, bringing her hands up either side of the terrified girl’s head so she could bare witness to her wiggling fingers.

“Nohohoho! Nohohoho!” Turning her head from side to side, the helpless girl laughed the kind of laughter that only came from horrified anticipation.

“Last chance…” The dark haired girl teased, her bulbous bosom pressed against the blonde’s shoulder blades as she slowly dragged her hands back down out of view. “Tell me what you don’t want us to do, or I’m going to have Maria and Ana take those cute bunnies away.”

“Don’t tickle me! Don’t tickle me!” Wendy shook, her pink slippers wiggling at the thought of being removed.

“Ah well, we never agreed to that!” The cruel girl said and quickly rushed both of her hands directly into the fretful girl’s defenseless sides.

“Eeeiiiheeheehee! We did! Eeeehee! We did!” Tugging uselessly under the devilish woman, the buxom blonde’s squished boobs ballooned out from either side of her as she tried futilely to roll away.

“Nooo, you said you’d do anything!” Tanya teased as she pinched relentlessly up and down from the dancer’s bouncing hips to the bottom of her soft ribs. “Not tickling you was only implied!”

Squealing and pleading through her high-pitched giggles as she lay sandwiched between her mattress and Tanya’s upperbody, Wendy could scarcely believe her own situation. Though there were only half as many women intent on tickling her as there had been the past Friday, being tied down made the dancer’s predicament infinitely worse. Being relatively free there was always the glimmer of hope that escape was possible, one the nude girl had taken full advantage of those few days before. Restrained by rope however, that hope was nonexistent. Wendy knew, as she lay face down and writhing atop her sheets, that the only way her torment would end was by the mercy of her three visitors. Tragically something told the poor girl that such mercy was as real as the hope of breaking free.

“Soooo ticklish!” Sitting up, the kneeling girl squeezed her thighs tight around the bottom of the blonde’s shapely bare ass. “And look at this beautiful booty!” She said, delivering a small open handed smack to the bound woman’s right cheek.

“Ai!” Wendy squeaked and tensed her round butt, which caused large dimples to form on the outer sides. “Don’t do this! I don’t deserve this!”

“Ohh, of course not!” The busty tormentor said as she gently dragged her fingernails right along the outer edges of the blonde’s butt cheeks, causing the tied girl to twitch sporadically. “But that’s what makes this so much fun!”

“It’s not fun! Eeiihee! It’s horrible!” Pushing her forehead into the mattress, the spasming dancer’s distress was undermined by her girlish giggles. “It’s the worheerst! I hate it! Eeheehee!”

“The worst? More lies!” Tanya said, dancing her maddeningly feathery touch higher toward the middle of the blonde’s butt. “Our mutual friends told us all about your worst spots! They never mentioned your fine ass!”

“Neeheehee! Stohahahap!” The poor girl wiggled her butt what little she could between the teasing woman’s thighs. Arching her back, her big boobs almost lifting off the mattress, Wendy tried to bat the ten tickling nails away with her bound hands.

“Of course I’m happy to find more!” Speeding up her fingers tenfold, the skillfully scribbling woman ran her well-manicured nails right along either side of the blonde’s terribly sensitive crevice.

“IIIIEEEHAHA! EEEIIEHHEEE!” Wendy bucked wildly, her long wet hair flailing as she slammed back down into the mattress and clenched her hyperticklish cheeks. “STOHOHOP! YEEHEEHEEHEE!”

“Oh I think I found one!” The giddy girl said as she rode the thrashing young woman beneath her. “Our little lady has a ticklish tooshie!”

Grabbing desperately at air with her tightly bound hands, the best the busty blonde could do to fight back was occasionally brush a finger against the side of Tanya’s hand. Bouncing up and down and rolling wildly from side to side, Wendy screamed with laughter. Her big bare boobs squished and ballooned, jiggled and mashed as their fleshy weight was rolled and pressed. Behind the brazen woman atop her, the blonde’s long legs shook violently and her fluffy slippers wiggled quickly. For as much as she had been tickled in her young life, Wendy could not recall a single time where her butt was subjected to more than a second or two of purposely targeted tickling. The result of such an agonizing assault, which the frenzied girl found out that morning while held prisoner in her own apartment, drove her crazy.

“By the way…” Tanya said, ceasing her sadistic scribbling of the bound blonde’s butt crack. “…the mutual friends I mentioned? I don’t mean those dummies who got you the other night.”

“Ahh…ahh n-no more!” The breathless girl said, her cheeks puffing and blushed red.

“Are you listening?” The kneeling woman said, and quickly spidered five fingers directly under the panting girl’s tailbone, which elicited a loud squeal. “I’m saying we know all about what happened to you senior year, Wendy. Jason? Mr. Lucas? Jason told us every detail of the good time you had with them.”

Wendy didn’t speak, but she did hold her breath. Emma had been right, there was a connection between Mr. Lucas, Jason Whitmore and the girls in white. The information was of no use in that particular moment of course, though the naked girl was no less daunted by the insanity of it all. All the poor young woman wanted to do was return to her normal routine. Laying there, face down and naked, Wendy couldn’t begin to imagine what exactly it was she had done to become so unwittingly entangled in. One thing the worrisome blonde did know however, was that Emma Clark was in a great deal of danger.

“Y-you know Jason?” The well-restrained girl finally squeaked. If she could just get word to Emma somehow, any information she might be able to gain could be enormously helpful.

“Oh, Jason and I go back.” The wicked woman atop the trapped dancer said. “You know it was me who broke his nose, right? That bullshit story about him defending my honor or whatever it was? Total crap. He tickled the shit out of me in the back of his car so I popped him one.”

“He-he tickled you too?” Wendy said, eager to keep the conversation going. Maybe find some common ground. The buxom girl was under no false hope that she might be able to talk her way free, but any second she could converse with her captures was a second she wasn’t being tortured.

“Worse than you ever got it, believe me.” The dark haired woman’s tone soured. “I fought him off the first time but later, after graduation, the prick finished what he started. We see him around now and then, don’t we girls?”

“Nnhm.” Ana hummed, making no effort to hide her disdain.

“Anyway.” Tanya said. “His little story about you was what got a few of the ladies all worked up to track you down. You never stood a chance.”

Wendy’s blood ran cold. The girls in white on Friday hadn’t tickled the other dancers because they were testing them, the shocked girl thought, they had tickled Wendy and her coworkers because they’re a bunch of tickle-crazed psychos. She had been the target before the six conspirators had even walked through the door of Glitter Grabbers. Those women were hunters seeking their next meal. The thought made the helpless girl feel like exactly what they had treated her as, completely outmatched prey.

“Never mind though!” Maria chimed in, moving around to the right side of the bed. “They screwed it all up, and now we get to play with you instead!”

“Lucky us!” Ana said as she appeared on the left, a hungry grin plastered across her lips.

“Nono!” The bound blonde begged as she felt Tanya’s arms coiling around her elbows.

Moving her kneeling position back to between Wendy’s widespread claves, Tanya leaned backward and pulled the nude girl up with her. Forced to stand on her own knees, Wendy twisted and squirmed as her entire front was exposed. Fighting weakly to pull herself forward again, the upright blonde was not even entirely sure if laying back down or staying vertical would be worse. Shaking her head, the bare breasted girl watched as Ana and Maria climbed up onto either side of her bed and it occurred to her that laying down or not, she was damned either way.

“You know what else Jason told us…” Tanya said softly, letting her full lips gently caress the nape of her captive’s neck as she spoke.

“Neehee!” Quickly bringing her shoulder up to her cheek, Wendy squealed.

“He told us…” Holding the blonde’s arms tight, the buxom girl behind her whispered hot breath against the other side of her neck.

“Eeiiee!” Wendy shook, whipping her head to the other side.

“That when he and Mr. Lucas tickled you…” The kneeling woman put her lips to the back of her prisoner’s neck.

“Nopleeeheease!” The nude girl said, craning her neck back.

“You got very…” Tanya said, moving back to the same side she started at and caused another loud giggle. “…very…” She moved to the other side, then to the back, the fitful blonde’s laughter spilling out. “…turned on.”

“Nohoho! Noheeheeiiee!” Rolling her head every which way, the tightly held girl’s fleshy boobs jiggled as she tried to twist her arms free.

“Doesn’t really matter if it’s true or not.” Tanya said, keeping her arms firmly curled around the writhing dancer’s elbows. As the woman with braided hair spoke, Ana and Maria were shuffling on their own knees, moving in very close toward the pleading girl. “Either way we’re going to give you that reward we talked about.”

“Nono!” Wendy tried to shift backward, stopped by the shapely girl pushing behind her. Mouth open in a wide O-shape, the struggling blonde watched as Maria and Ana both bought a hand up and began gently pinching her large pink nipples. “Awh…awhh….awfffu-uck…” Her bottom lip quivering, the defenseless dancer took short, sharp breaths and looked off to random spot on her bedroom wall.

“The boys would never get it.” Tanya whispered as her two friends skillfully fondled the softly moaning girl’s swelling nipples. “We do….we know all too well. To be tortured, put through hell, your mind going crazy but your body…wanting more.”

“N-no!” Squeaking between breathy moans, the involuntarily aroused girl turned to jelly in the trio’s hands.

“You do.” Increasing her hold around the blonde’s arms, the busty girl held tight. “You don’t know you do. You’ll scream for it to stop, you’ll try and get away. In the end though, some part of you deep down will crave it.”

“Nnnoo…st-stop…” Wendy shuddered, her devastatingly sensitive nipples fully erect.

If Tanya had not been talking about unbearable ticklish torment, the writhing dancer would have been fully onboard. Tied up by three hotties and pleasured, the way Wendy saw it that was a fine way to spend a Tuesday morning. Tragically for as much as she soaked up Maria and Ana’s deftly skilled fingertips and their tender tugs, twists and pinches, the moaning girl knew tickling was exactly what they had in mind. The blonde’s own complicated relationship dealing with life post-tickle torture only helped to emphasize Tanya’s argument. Wendy knew, even from her relatively brief encounter with her boss the day before, that in some perverse way being tickled against her will caused a salacious lust she could not control.

“We’re going to start now, Wendy.” Maria said, stroking her fingers slowly down the underside of the bound girl’s right breast.

“Nnnnno…” Wendy whined softly.

“We’ve gone easy on you.” Ana added as she mimicked her friend’s movement, sliding her sensuous touch down the squirming woman’s fleshy bosom.

“We’re going to start.” Tanya said, pulling the moaning girl in close to her. “And we’re not going to stop.”

“N-no….no god….please!” Snapping out of her lust-driven daze almost entirely, the nude girl could feel Maria and Ana’s fingertips beginning to poke at her slender sides. “Pl-pleeheese! No!”

“All three of us…” The girl holding her still said as the other two slowly explored the blonde’s unprotected midriff. “…are going to tickle you.”

“Nonogodno! Teeheehee! Not me!” Wendy flinched and jumped as devious digits pinched and prodded at her supple flesh.

“We’re going to tickle every inch of you.” Tanya teased, keeping the tightly-tied woman upright and relatively steady. “And don’t think we’ve forgotten about what’s hiding in those slippers.”

“Ohno ohno! Please!” The poor girl almost sobbed at both the thought of what was being threatened, and the fact she could feel herself becoming disturbingly more turned on. “D-don’t do thiiiis! Eeiiee! Eeeiheehee!”

“If you’re lucky…” Maria said, bringing in her other hand to stroke lightly up the inside of the busty girl’s trembling thigh. “…we might even let you cum.”

“NoNONO!” Wendy shook, flexing her wide-open thighs in a desperate effort to close them tight. “Don’t! DON’T! Not there!” She stressed, feeling the curvy woman’s feathery fingertips begin to caress the most outer edges of her bare pussy.

“What’s the matter sweetheart?” Tanya said as her two friends sped up their fingers. “Ticklish?”

“Neeeheehee! Naha! Naha! StopstopSTOP!” Rocking from side to side, her damp hair whipping against her bare shoulders, the fretful blonde pleaded as twenty swift digits toyed with her tummy and thighs.

Without moving her hand any further inward, Maria carefully kept her cruelly dancing fingertips right where the helpless woman’s thigh met her labia. Meanwhile, the dark haired girl’s other hand and all ten of Ana’s fiendishly long nails were frolicking gleefully all over Wendy’s convulsing, creamy soft tummy. Her mouth wide in an insuppressible grin, the loudly laughing woman jerked hard against Tanya’s unflinching hold on her. In her frantic, albeit limited movement that her capturers allowed, the struggling dancer’s naked boobs bounced and swayed. She wanted more than anything to buckle over, to hunch forward, to clamp her arms around herself, anything to defend her terribly ticklish midriff. Try as she might, what Wendy wanted did not matter as long as Tanya and the ropes were holding her in place.

“What’s this? What’s this right here?” Ana teased, circling a single razor sharp nail around the outer edges of the bewildered blonde’s navel. “A button? What does it do?”

“Nahahaha! Nahahah! NONO!” Laughing louder from the obvious threat alone, as well as the fifteen other fingers roaming her lower torso, Wendy begged for Ana not to follow through.

“Tell me what it does!” The olive-skinned girl said, drawing her talon in tighter circles around the panicked woman’s belly button. “Tell me what the button does and I won’t have to push it!”

“Nothing! Eeiieheehee! Nothiiieheehee!” Wendy giggled, her eyes bursting open when she felt Maria pinching at the large tendon in her inner thigh.

“Nothing?” Ana said, an amused grin across her face. “I don’t believe you!”

“Naheii! Naheii! NODON’T!” The bound girl wailed, right before the brunette’s whirling fingertip descended deep into her hyperticklish navel. “EIIIEEHEEHEE!” Wendy rocked violently, but the girl’s weren’t done with ramping up their assault. Less than a second after Ana’s long nail drilled into the blonde’s belly button, Maria’s five diabolical digits danced freely all over her completely vulnerable pussy. “YYEEIIEEEE! AWNOO! AHHEEHEEHEE!”

“You’re going to cum for us, aren’t you Wendy?” Maria said, raising her voice to be heard through their captive’s howling laughter.

In the throws of the ticklish tornadoes wreaking havoc across her curves and valleys, some small part of the cackling girl heard Maria’s teasing. Even though her sides were pinched and pussy was scribbled upon, her navel was explored and her ribs were poked, a tiny part of Wendy’s mind picked up the words of her tormentors. As her entire face blushed beet-red and a light sheen of sweat formed on her quaking breasts, the blonde knew Maria was right. She’d have liked to deny it, she would have liked to not feel it all, but Wendy was quickly becoming very, very wet between her thighs.

“Uh uh!” Tanya said, partly straining to keep the wild woman in her arms from flailing too much. “You only cum when we say so!”

“Don’t you dare cum until we tell you!” Ana said, the single finger she had circling inside the blonde’s navel continuing without pause.

“You’ll be in big trouble if you do!” Maria added, then quickly flickered her middle fingers directly back and forth across the naked woman’s swollen clit.

“IIIYYAAHEEE! IIIIEEEHEEE!” Wendy thrashed, shoving her hips back hard.

The sudden bucking of the blonde’s shapely ass caused Tanya to lose balance as she was pushed backward. Forced to choose between falling from the end of the bed or saving herself, the buxom girl released Wendy’s arms. Planting her hands on the edge of the mattress, Tanya just managed to stay on the bed, but lost her bound tickle-toy in the process. Free of the busty home invader’s grip, if not the ropes that held her tight, the nude girl plummeted forward directly between Maria and Ana. Once again face down on her sheets, Wendy had nary a split-second to appreciate her new position when the women either side of her began clawing at her sides.

“Eeeiiiheehee!” Rolling from side to side rapidly, each twist to protect one side only served to expose the other. Accosted by twenty fingers from both left and right, Wendy laughed helplessly as her sides were squeezed, ribs were poked and the flesh sides of her huge bosoms were savagely stroked. “Stohohop! Eeiieehee! No moreeeheeiihee!”

“Oh Wendy…” Tanya said, recovering from her rough dismount. “You silly, silly girl.” She said as the nubile young woman rolled fitfully before her. Placing one hand on each of the blonde’s fiercely jerking calve muscles, the brown-eyed girl slid her hands slowly up the dancer’s long legs. “You shouldn’t have done that…we were being so nice to you.”

Nestling her knees in right between Wendy’s thick thighs, the wicked woman slid her hands firmly up and over the girl’s gyrating ass. Taking hold of the rope bound around the giggling girl’s wrists, Tanya stood up on her knees and leaned forward. Looming over the pleading girl’s bouncing bare butt, the dark haired girl pressed down on the tightly tied rope with her right hand, limiting her captives movements even further. “We we’re being nice.” She repeated as she sneakily moved her left hand down between Wendy’s flexing thighs. “And now we’re going to have to be mean!”

While Ana and Maria continued to goose her sides, slipping their wiggling fingers along any piece of hypersensitive skin that Wendy accidentally exposed, Tanya began mercilessly poking a single fingertip right into the center of the blonde’s taint. Craning her neck back, mouth open wide, the forcibly restrained girl screeched like a banshee, her eyes clenching shut around newly formed tears. Like a full-powered jackhammer, Tanya’s demonic digit beat up and down in the exact same spot with such accuracy it drove Wendy completely out of her mind. Couple with the girls either side of her turning her tender flesh pink, the teary eyed dancer lost all sense of herself.

Consumed by the triple-pronged tickle onslaught, thick tears began streaming down the trapped girl’s crimson cheeks. Still not entirely dry from her steamy shower, Wendy had started to make herself even wetter still. While beads of salty sweat drizzled down her neck, breasts, abdomen and furiously bouncing ass, the sinfully lust-filled girl’s pussy was practically drenched in arousal.

“Do you want to know something funny?” Tanya said, the trio all stopping their sadistic tickle-blitz at the same time. As Wendy gasped breathlessly beneath her, the busty leader of the pack lowered herself down. Her full lips brushing gently against the blonde’s red-hot ear as she spoke, the buxom girl began to grind herself slowly atop her prisoner’s ass. “It’s about my friend Ana here…”

“N-n-neehee…pl-pleaheese…” Wendy gasped, giggling as the grinding girl’s mouth moved lightly along the back of her ear. Too caught up in her own panting, arousal and Tanya’s teasing, the teary-eyed blonde barely noticed Ana and Maria climbing up off the bed.

“The thing about Ana is…” The curvaceous girl said while her two friends wandered around to the foot of the bed. “…she has a kind of strange obsession. It’s not anything we don’t all enjoy…it’s just that Ana really, really loves it.”

“Nomorrree…eeheeiihee!” The squirming bound girl giggled, her stomach sinking when she felt nimble fingers begin to tug at the pink slippers dutifully encasing her delicate feet. “No-nono-NO! PLEASE NO!”

“Not only does she love it…” Tanya said, pausing to nibble on the screaming blonde’s ear. “…she’s very, very good at it.”

“NO OHNO! PLEHEEASE!” Wendy shook and giggled from the tender nips at her ear, her focus agonizingly split between Tanya’s teeth and the slippers sliding off over her marshmallowy soft heels.

“What do you think Maria?” The nibbling woman said, increasing the force of her thrusting hips into the dancer’s squished ass.

“Oh I agree!” Maria said with a joyful tone, just as she was revealing Wendy’s buttery soft sole. “Our dear Ana is terrifying…easily one of the top three foot ticklers I know!”

“PLEASE OH PLEASE! NO!” Wendy sobbed a little, curling her plump toes as her slender feet were made fully bare. “I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! I’ll DO IT!”

“Hmmnnff!” Tanya cooed approvingly, speeding up her lustful grinding. “Whatever I want hmm? Would you lick my clit?”

“YES! YES!” The desperate blonde strained, doing her best to thrust back in response.

“I’d like that very much…” The thrusting woman said, then snaked her long tongue down around the begging girl’s earlobe. “And Maria, and Ana? You’ll lick their pussies too?”

“Yeeheehes! Yeeehees!” Wendy grit her teeth, shifting her head in no direction that could avoid the tiny tongue tip.

“And your ass? Can I lick your ass?” Her voice breathy and mixed with moans, the dark haired woman licked hungrily right behind the tied girl’s ear.

“Yeeeiieehes! Yesyeseeheehe!” The helpless girl giggled, agreeing to anything without truly considering the question. Scrunching her neck to one side, Wendy squealed and was just about to offer all manner of carnality to her domineering guests when Tanya’s hands shot like lightening up her sides. Before she could fully comprehend the sudden side tickles, the buxom woman had already dug five fingers deep into Wendy’s underarms. “EEEIII! AHAHAHA!”

“There are no deals here Wendy!” Tanya said, riding the wildly laughing woman beneath her. “You do as you’re told! You don’t make bargains! You’re ours now, little girl!”

“AHAHAH! I’M SORRY! YEEHAHA!” The poor blonde screamed, trying with everything she had to pull her arms around as she bucked madly. “I’MSORREEEHEHEE! NAHAHA!”

Curling her shoulders forward as much as she could, Wendy could do little else against the five fingertips worming into her painfully ticklish hollows. As her bare feet wiggled and her toes spread, the loudly cackling girl let out a shrill squeal when Tanya’s tongue lapped ravenously into the nape of her neck. On top of the devious digits digging into her silky squished underarms and the long wet tongue licking quickly around her collar, the completely nude girl could feel her tormentor’s lustful grinding intensify. Tortured by every ticklish touch and her mind in a frenzy, Wendy’s more primal self was feeding off of Tanya’s lewd action. A tiny, mousy voice in the back of the blonde’s mind screamed for her to maintain control, stressed not to give in to lustful release. That miniscule voice may as well have been gagged, as every word was drowned out in a deluge of unstoppable laughter.

“My little tickle-kitten!” Tanya said breathily, grinding herself quickly into the crazed blonde. “I’m going to tickle you all day!”

As Tanya’s devilish fingers caused the luckless girl to roar with forced laughter, the raving blonde had not forgotten that her upturned bare feet were out in the open. Even in the throws of ticklish anguish, even as hopelessly aroused as she was, Wendy still found space in her mind to dread anyone touching her destructively ticklish feet. Worse still, the fiercely struggling dancer knew Ana and Maria were eagerly looming directly near her terribly soft soles and had no way to tell when they might indulge themselves. It was a distressing thought, one that nagged at the sweat soaked girl as Tanya’s fingertips drilled into her hollows.

“Ah!” The brazen intruder moaned sharply, her fingers clutching at the sides of her blonde plaything’s fleshy boobs. “Ahaw! Yeah!” Tanya squeaked joyfully as she thrust her hips hard into the wild girl under her. “My-my-MY! My littlleeee!” Her tone raw with passion, the cruel woman clawed at the restrained girl’s supple, squishy flesh. “Kitteennnn! AWWHH!”

Curling herself over and pressing down hard into Wendy’s arms and back, Tanya opened her mouth wide and howled with ecstasy. As the dark haired girl writhed through a body-spasming orgasm, she continued to grip and claw at the blonde’s pinkened skin. With ten fingers continuing to dig and clamor at her hot and slippery sides, the tightly tied girl could do nothing as her capturer came atop her. Torturous as the prolonged ticking certainly was, Wendy’s infuriating lust piqued rapidly. Feeling Tanya’s voluptuous body roll and squirm as she pushed down, the destitute dancer knew it would not take much at all to put her in a similar state.

“OooOOoohh…” Tanya cooed softly, her gasping moans fading as she rubbed tenderly into the restrained woman beneath her. “Ohh Wendy…you are magical…”

“Ahh…ahh…” The buxom girl breathed heavily, catching her breath and simultaneously doing her best to massage both her erect nipples and drenched pussy with the bed sheet.

“Don’t…don’t cum, Wendy.” The relieved woman said as she pushed herself up off the lewdly writhing blonde. “You’re not allowed to cum…not until we tell you.”

“Nnggh…hmmnngg!” Wendy groaned, tightening her lips in frustration as she fought an internal battle for the ages. She wanted to finish, she wanted the sordid release of orgasm so bad she could taste it, but the helpless girl knew nothing good would come immediately after. The trio of intruders would punish her in their horribly unjust fashion, probably in ways the relatively naïve dancer could not even imagine. Wendy teetered on the precipice of her own destruction, and god help her if she wasn’t willing to jump in.

“Can you ladies help our little kitten?” Tanya said as she climbed off the bed. “I think she needs a distraction.”

“Ohh!” Ana said excitedly. “Allow me!”

Snapping out of her lust-induced daze, Wendy opened her eyes wide. “Wait….wait no!” She squeaked.

“Oh yesss…” The sultry brunette hissed as she stroked a long nail so close to the bottom of her captive’s foot that the distance was imperceptible.

“Noheehee!” Wendy giggled, curling her toes and wrinkling the sole of her upturned foot. Whether it was in her mind or not, the utterly defenseless girl felt the tiniest graze along her slender arch.

For all the times the hapless blonde had been tickled in her young life, she had been fortunate enough to avoid having her feet touched for most of them. This, Wendy figured when considering her luck -or lack thereof-, was not at all due to any kind of sympathy on the part of her numerous assailants. The fact that friends, boyfriends, siblings, extended family and one especially handsy dance coach had put the majority of their unwelcome focus toward her upperbody was simply a matter of convenience. From a tickler’s perspective there was little sense dealing with shoes, socks and a long pair of forcefully kicking legs when Wendy had an entire torso of hopelessly ticklish curves just a finger-wiggle away.

In it’s own morbidly beneficial way, the girl’s feet simply being too much trouble to tickle worked to her advantage. After all, it was the then bound and naked young woman’s most dreadfully sensitive of all spots for another human to touch. There was truly only one instance of foot tickling that remained seared into Wendy’s mind; the apparently infamous incident during her senior year of high school. Cornered, trapped and tormented by fellow student Jason Whitmore and their math teacher Mr. Lucas, the ill-fated blonde’s bewilderingly ticklish bare feet had been mercilessly toyed with for far longer than she cared to remember. The crystal clear memory of that horrid debacle was what drove Wendy to feel an abysmal sense of abject fear. That dire memory was also the reason she knew that another few strokes of Ana’s expert fingers across her exquisitely soft soles would send the blonde into an orgasm of unbridled force.

“Pleeeheeheease!” Burying her forehead into the bed sheet, the bound girl could not honestly tell if her sole was actually being touched, or it was simply the anguish of anticipation making her laugh. “Heeiiheehee! You cahahahahan’t!”

“Why not Wendy?” Tanya said as she stood leaning lazily against the dresser drawers.

“Tell us.” Ana said as she used the very tip of one fingernail to draw slowly over the spasming woman’s tender heel.

“EIIEE! Eeeheeheehee!” Arching her back and exploding with a stream of uninterrupted high-pitched giggling, the powerless girl felt a magma-hot surge of lust. There was nothing left to protect, any sense of pride or dignity had long since been stripped away. Wendy knew all too well from her previous experience that the battle was well and truly lost. “I’ll cuuuumahahahaa!

“Oh no you will not!” Ana said sternly as she introduced a second vilely slow nail to stroke down the blonde’s smooth arch. “You’re not allowed to.”

“YEEII! Eeiiieeheehee! Pleeheeheease!” Wendy bucked and rolled in ticklish agony from side to side, every giggle-filled word a monumental effort to construct. “I cahahaha! I cahahaha! I can’t help it! Eeeeiiiheehaha!”

“You had better find a way!” The slender brunette said as she slowly dragged the same two nails over the balls of the bound girl’s foot, barely touching the skin. “Because if you cum, all three of us are going to tickle you out of your mind!” Leaving that final thought in her frantic prisoner’s mind, Ana suddenly scribbled all five of her teasing talons up and down the dancer’s desperately wiggling sole.

“YAAAHAHAAA! OHNO! AAHAHA! OHSTOP!” Wendy screamed the last recognizable words she could before losing herself to a storm of wailing laughter.

Launching herself in every direction her bonds would allow, the furiously thrashing blonde flopped wildly toward either side of her bed. Up and down, slamming her naked body into the dampened sheets, the voluptuous girl’s entire bed frame shook as her bare left sole was gleefully explored. Wendy had been wrong, she had not lost the battle. Battle implies some measure of fight, of contest, of a chance no matter how small to wound the other side. There was never a battle. Wendy had been annihilated before she even knew what was happening.

Devastatingly, Ana’s prowess as an exceptionally skilled tickler had not been overstated. If anything -Wendy might have thought had her mind not been a splintered mess of hyperticklish agony- Maria and Tanya’s praise of their friend’s savagely cruel talent had been criminally undersold. The swift and balletic way the brunette’s fingers moved was almost inhuman, as if some perfectly designed tickling-super-machine were analyzing every nerve for how best to exploit it. For a woman so sensitive even the most clumsily fingered fiend could have driven her mad, such finely tuned tickling finesse was perfectly customized disaster.

Shrieking and soaked in sweat, Wendy’s toes spread wide as her tormentor’s five-fingered flurry flew up and down the entire length of her helplessly bare sole. Rotating madly to escape Ana’s talented talons, the blonde’s feverishly wiggling foot scrunched and stretched, snapping one way and then the other, never once able to free itself for a half-second’s respite. Tracked and tickled relentlessly no matter which way she moved, the poor girl’s muscles flexed in brutal displays of delirious struggling. What little strands of long blonde hair didn’t flail wildly were matted to her glossy neck and back. An endless deluge of tears soaked her stretched red cheeks. A hysterical nightmare bought about by the seemingly simple act of five sadistically wiggling fingers, and one that rocketed Wendy clean off the edge of orgasm and far beyond.

“EEEEIIHAHA! OHAHAHA! OHOHAHAHA!” The berserk blonde howled, loud gasping moans turning to calamitous laughter.

Within seconds the rapidly swelling warmth in Wendy’s lower tummy grew white-hot, and utterly uncontainable. Bursting throughout the maniacal girl’s already highly-alarmed nervous system, the inferno of lustful release scorched up her spine, sizzled through her bouncing boobs and consumed everything in it’s path between her thighs. In her laughing, moaning frenzy the rush of searing fire lit every nerve ending aflame, then instantly melted into a flood of all consuming magma. Between the blonde’s quickly quivering thighs her pulsating pussy gushed, an overflow of liquid lust that saturated her sheets, mattress and anything else in it’s sopping wet path.

“Ohh…” Ana said in a tone of mock disappointment as she took a step back from the violently moaning girl. “Wendy, Wendy, Wendy. Tut tut!”

“You naughty girl.” Maria said as the blonde’s bound hands clawed at the air while she continued to pump liquid lust onto the rumpled sheets.

“We were very clear.” The slender brunette said, sounding like a scolding schoolmarm. “You were given one instruction. Do. Not. Cum.” She said as the lewdly writhing girl continued to gasp in ecstasy before her. “Now look at you, cumming yourself silly.”

“There’s only one thing for it.” The dark haired girl beside Ana said.

“You’ve left us no choice.” Tanya added, her words suggesting regret but her tone far from any semblance of remorse.

“Discipline.” Ana said, and stepped back toward the strictly restrained girl’s foot.

Her body-rocking orgasm slowly subsiding to waves of pleasure that tingled across her breathless body, Wendy barely heard a word said by the trio of tickling intruders. The teasing by her three sadistic capturer’s would have surely sent the nude girl’s mind reeling with panic had she not been deafened by her own carnal outburst. Tragically that most welcome of distractions only served to spare the exhausted blonde a few precious seconds before she felt Ana and Maria curling their hands around the tops of her trapped feet. Still riding out the last few titillating waves of her orgasm, Wendy’s mind careened back into red alert.

“N…no!” Wendy stammered, at first with disbelief and then with outright dismay. “No please! T-Tanya! Tanya please! S-stop them!” The blonde begged, looking over to her former fellow student with tear filled eyes.

“Oh, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Tanya said coldly, followed by a wide grin that caused her captive to sob.

Cupping the top of Wendy’s left foot in one hand while Maria did the same to the right, Ana began wiggling five fingers just inches from the silky sole. “I bet you’re just sooo much more sensitive after that lovely orgasm!”

“Nohohohoooo!” The naked girl cried, unable to move either of her slender bare feet. Ana was right, of course. In her post-orgasmic state Wendy’s normally hypersensitive body was in overdrive. Burying her face into the bed sheet, the weeping girl braced for the inevitable.

“Tickle tickle!” Maria teased, and in sync with her partner began frolicking five fingernails all over the conquered girl’s sole.

“AHHHHHAHAHAA!” Wendy bellowed, arching her entire body from the knees up off the bed by several inches. As she slammed back down into the mattress, the nightmarishly ticklish girl moved like a person possessed.

Both feet immobile and squished together between her attacker’s thumbs and fingers, the buxom girl’s exposed soles were wrinkled inward. Five speedy claws spidered down over the centerline of each foot, danced across her flexing toes and pranced like playful fairies around her heels. Wendy’s body still tingling from her mind-melting orgasm, the effect of having both feet tickled at once was complete lunacy. There were no more thoughts of freedom, no beginnings or ends, time lost all meaning. There were no memories or hopes, no recollection of who or where she was. In those early moments, as Ana and Maria effortlessly drove Wendy insane, she was nothing more than a creature of tortured ticklishness.

Unblinking and wide-eyed, an expression of grinning madness was cemented on the thrashing blonde’s bright red face. Her mind gone and body driven by pure instinct, Wendy’s libido entered a free-for-all. Unrestrained by the protests of her mind, the flailing dancer’s arousal tore through her, unimpeded and raw. Where sixty seconds felt like hours for the poor ravaged girl, it was less than a minute before another body-convulsing orgasm erupted across her abhorrently sensitive physique. Loud screaming moans mixed into Wendy’s tortured laughter, much of the sounds coming from her barely sounded human. As the tidal waves of her second orgasm washed across the blonde’s body a third was already swelling within. Before the second had even begun to subside, a third orgasm of tsunami-strength had the nude girl’s pussy squirting like a fire hose.

How long exactly Ana and Maria did their devil’s dance over the dancer’s bound bare feet she had no idea. Nor did the breathless blonde ever recall how many abdomen-straining orgasms her capturer’s put her through. Before her mind had snapped completely Wendy did recall thinking she would certainly be late for work. Perhaps it was around the time she should have been strolling onto stage that the two sadists at the foot of her bed stretched her toes back. Her delicate soles held taut, the deranged blonde slipped into a squeaking, silent laughter as ten mercilessly talons roamed over her arches and down between her toes.

“All this work is making me hungry.” Ana said at one point, her words unheard by the violently twitching girl tied on the bed.

“Snack time?” Maria grinned, at long last letting go of the blonde’s upturned foot.

“Oh yes…” The sultry brunette said as she kneeled down to the carpet. Cupping the top of Wendy’s foot in both hands, the cruel vixen moved her full lips less than an inch away from the creamy soft sole. “I’m starving!”

“EEP!” Wendy broke her silent suffering at the flicker of a tongue directly under her left heel. Before the shattered girl could even begin to figure out what new torment this was, a second tongue licked quickly along her right heel. “EEEHEE! EEEHEEHEE!”

“Yummy!” Ana said, then opened her mouth wide and took the side of the nude girl’s foot between her teeth.

Nibbling gently, the slender woman used a devious combination of teeth, lips and quick-licking tongue all over Wendy’s sole. It was clear then that Ana’s reputation as a highly skilled foot-tickler was not restricted to her nimble fingers alone. Not without her own considerable talent, Maria joined in on the feast a moment later as she too maneuvered the tip of her tongue with uproarious effect. Prying the howling girl’s toes apart, the two ravenous intruders slipped their long wet tongues down in between, and slid along the painfully sensitive undersides. Seconds into the savage dinner party taking place over her hyperticklish feet, Wendy felt as if she would split in two when a thunderous orgasm struck without warning. If there were a point where that orgasm slowed and another took it’s place, the blonde did not feel it. Caught in what seemed to be a perpetual storm of orgasmic tickle torture, the wordlessly laughing woman fell ever further into a bottomless abyss.

“Wendy...” The frazzled girl heard, like a voice echoing far away. Who she was, where she was, how much time had passed was all a mystery. As the blonde’s mind slowly pieced itself back together she did not know well enough to ask such questions. The first thing she knew, the only thing, is that she was no longer being tickled. “Wendyyy…” The voice came again, calling softly and a little closer. Wendy. Yes, she thought, that sounds familiar.

The voice was Tanya, and as Wendy gathered herself the realization soon came that she was once again propped up on her knees. Behind her were Ana and Maria, each holding one of the blonde’s bound arms. She did not recall when the tickling had stopped, or when her last orgasm had faded, nor being lifted up off her stomach. Drenched in sweat and her own love juices, the helpless girl’s soles were bright pink. Hanging her head limply, Wendy blinked tears from her eyes as she slowly came back to reality. Her vision clearing, the first thing the disheveled blonde noticed was a black hoodie hanging over one edge of her bed. Looking up when she heard her name again, Wendy could see Tanya kneeling before her, tear-away pants and hoodie gone, in their place a tight full body suit, the colour stark white.

“Uhnn…” The confused girl whimpered as she looked over the sleek suit that appeared almost painted on.

“I’m going to join in now.” Tanya said, smirking at the trembling girl. “All three of us are going to tickle you, together.”

“N…no…” Her squeaked, her breathing becoming faster.

“We gave you a break.” The curvy woman said as she started to move off to one side. “You were in no fit state for conversation.”

“Please…please…” Wendy trembled as Ana and Maria began slowly lowering her back down toward the soaked bed sheet.

On her long descent toward the rumpled, messy bed, Wendy took such quick breaths that she almost began to hyperventilate. Tanya and her cohorts had not given their miserable plaything a break from her torment, they had purposefully made it worse. The trio’s level of cruelty, their inventiveness for how best to make someone suffer, it was like another world for the helpless blonde, an alien concept. She did not understand how making another person endure such horrors could be enjoyable in the first place, let alone how one could be so creative about it. Giving Wendy a brief respite from the tickling, allowing her to gather her thoughts, the only purpose was so she could truly, consciously appreciate how much trouble she was in.

“N-not me…” The nude girl whimpered as she was laid down gently.

“What’s that kitten?” Tanya said as Ana and Maria let go of their captive’s arms.

“Not me…not me…Emma….” The destitute girl said, her voice trembling and thick with the shame of betrayal. Wendy had done nothing, not a thing to face such brutal retribution, not even a little bit. There had been no intentional act on her part to upset anyone, to ruffle anyone’s feathers, she thought. Had she known talking to Emma would have even mildly perturbed someone Wendy never would have said a word, let alone upsetting the kind of people Tanya seemed to be involved with. None of it was fair, she didn’t choose to be so cripplingly ticklish. In her heart of hearts the forlorn girl did not want to betray her friend, but as she lay there bound and facing another pitiless attack on her naked body throwing Emma to the wolves seemed like her only option.

“Emma?” Tanya said as she maneuvered herself around the begging dancer’s upper body. “Don’t you worry about Emma.” She said, kneeling comfortably between her captive’s wide-spread legs and facing her upperbody. “We’ll catch up with her before long.”

“Sh-she’s the one!” Wendy cried, looking back over her shoulder with tear filled eyes. Ana and Maria were once again positioning themselves near her upturned bare feet. “I-I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Ohh, of course you didn’t!” The buxom intruder said with what could nearly be mistaken as a sympathetic tone. Placing her open palms on the back of the quivering girl’s thighs, Tanya slid her hands up until she had a sturdy grip on each of Wendy’s firm butt cheeks. “We know you never meant to do anything bad…we know you’re innocent in all this.”

“Then whyyy? Why-hy-hyyy?” The nude girl cried as she felt her shapely cheeks being gently pried apart. “Oh god! Oh gohohod! What are you doing noooow?!”

“Let’s just say…” Tanya said as she lowered her face until she was just inches from the bound blonde’s exposed pink star. “I bet you’ve never been tickled like this before!”

“NEIIII! Whatisthat?! NOHO!” Wendy shrieked when she felt the wet tip of her tormentor’s long tongue flicker right above her asshole. “TanYAAHAA! NOPLEASE! EEEHEEEII!”

Before she could comprehend the strange and hellishly ticklish sensation, the poor blonde was thrown into a storm of squealing laughter. Flexing her curvaceous ass cheeks, Wendy strained uselessly to close the gap. Reaching down with her tightly tied hands, the blonde clawed desperately, doing little more than fondling Tanya’s thick braids. Arching her back, the frenzied girl screamed as she felt that fiendish tongue tip flick around the outer edges of her hole. A few seconds of bewildering hysterics into the unstoppable ass licking, Wendy could feel her ever-disobedient libido rearing it’s head again. Then, right as the crazed captive’s arousal was defiantly making her hips bounce, she felt two more tongue tips tasting her silky soles.

“YYEEIIIGGHAHAHAHA!” The poor young woman let out a gut-wrenching scream that drained all air from her lungs.

Falling into a deep, silent laughter, little could be heard coming from the defeated girl. Panicked gasps for air and before long, the labored moaning of multiple orgasms. Along with the shaking of the blonde’s bed and occasional soft cooing from her torturers, there were no other sounds. Thrashing madly, a deranged expression contorting her once cheerful features, Wendy careened into her hyperticklish insanity as tongues slid between her toes. Teeth found flesh at the sides of her feet to nibble. Tanya’s tongue explored every inch between the prisoner’s cheeks, dashing up and down between taint and tailbone. There was no end, there was no mercy. She did not deserve this.

Continued...
 
Chapter Five: Interview With a Victim (#2)​

Right around the time Wendy Starr was discovering three unexpected visitors in her home, Emma Clark was entering a record store forty minutes away. In her usual attire of tight blue jeans and a yellow t-shirt, the diminutive strawberry-blonde pushed open the store’s rickety door to the chime of a bell overhead. Closing the door gently, Emma looked around the rows of records, vintage posters and various music merchandise before finally landing on the only other occupant. Standing behind the counter, having seemed to barely change much at all since high school, was Deena Tripp.

Of their graduation class Deena Tripp was perhaps the one person with less friends than Emma. While Emma kept a small group of bookish associates during her teen years Deena mostly kept to herself, at least as far as anyone knew. The difference between Deena and most other kids their age was, the raven haired girl never seemed to care all that much about her social standing. Standing around 5’8ft with a pale skin tone, Emma could not recall ever seeing Deena wear anything other than black. Now twenty-two, wearing heavy lace-up boots, torn form fitting jeans and a black and white metal-band t-shirt covering her amble bosom, Deena looked almost exactly the same.

“Hey.” Deena said coolly as she looked up from an old magazine. “I know you.”

“Yeah.” Emma said, smiling politely as she made her way toward the till. “I’m Emma Clark, from high school?”

“I know.” The slender young woman said with some sense of dry humor. “I just said that.”

“Ha, right.” The redhead chuckled nervously. She had not interacted much with Deena during high school, but did remember that devil-may-care demeanor.

“What can I do for you Emma Clark from high school?” Deena said, her black lipstick catching the shorter girl’s eye as she approached the till. “After some Billy Joel?”

“Billy Joel…?”

“Never mind. What’s up?”

“I’m uh, I’m actually not here for music.” Emma said, trying to gather her journalistic confidence. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“Well shit.” The slender young woman said as she sat down on a barstool beside the register. Propping her heavy leather boots up on the stool legs, the long-haired girl sat with her knees apart. “I’m not doing anything else.”

Emma looked around the otherwise empty store. “You’re working.” She smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I tried calling but-“

“I never answer my phone.” Deena said plainly.

“I left a message but-“

“Yeah, I never check my messages.”

“We can talk after your shift maybe, or-“ Emma said before being cut off again.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what you want to talk to me about.” The smirking girl said, one thin eye brow raised.

“Ah, well like I said, you’re working so-“

“Oh yeah, look at me.” Deena said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “I’m rushed off my feet.” Leaning forward with her elbows on the countertop, the nonchalant girl looked up at Emma. “Fuck this job, okay? How’d you get my number anyway? I’m not on the InstaFaces and Twittergrams.”

“Our moms have book club together.” The busty redhead said as she noticed the hazel in Deena’s eyes.

“Do they? I haven’t talked to Catherine in a while.”

“My mom gave me her number. Your mom gave me yours.”

“Yeah, I figured the chain of events.” Deena said dryly. “How is the old lady?”

“She’s…um…” Emma said, a touch caught off guard. The conversation was not going the way the rookie journalist had pictured it before coming into the store. “Your mom’s-“

“A ****.”

Holding her breath for a moment, the curvy inquisitor wasn’t sure whether to laugh or nod in agreement. Finally, Emma’s wit caught up with her. “I was going to say impersonal.”

“Ha!” Deena threw her head back and grinned. “Alright cowgirl-“ She said, leaning back from the countertop. “-What are you doing tracking me down? If it’s about a five year reunion you can count me out.”

“Nothing like that.” Emma said, relieved at the break in tension. “I work for an online newspaper in New York and I’m writing a story…or, I’m looking into one, maybe. I wanted to ask you about Jason Whitmore.”

“Whitmore?” The slender girl said, looking down at the counter as she searched her memory. “You came all the way from New York and that guy’s the best story you can think of? He get famous or something?”

“The opposite. I guess he doesn’t have social media either, because he’s even harder to find than you were.”

“Wait, am I being interviewed right now?”

“If that’s okay.” Emma said. “Nothing on the record. It’s all just…exploratory.”

“Sure.” The pale girl said and looked around the lifeless store. “Most interesting thing that’s happened all week. So what the fuck you want to know about that guy for?”

“You and him, you dated didn’t you?”

“Dated? No, no way.” Deena said, a tiny smirk remaining across her full lips as she spoke. “We screwed around like, one time. That was it. He never called me after and I never called him, was what it was.”

“I see.” Emma said and paused, taking a moment to psych herself up for the next phase of her questions. “Did Jason ever…and, forgive me if it’s too personal…did he ever…tickle you?”

Raising her thin eyebrows, the taller girl let out a small, breathy laugh. “Now that is a weird question.”

“Weird because he did tickle you? Or because it’s just weird a question?”

“Umm, I’m thinking both.” Deena said, a little amusement in her voice. “As I recall, he didn’t tickle me though. He couldn’t, but he did try.”

“You pushed him away or…” Emma said, remembering her own daring escape from Jason’s clutches.

“No, no we fucked.” The shameless girl said plainly. “He like, tried to tickle me I guess. I told him it wouldn’t work, and then he played with my feet for a while. I mean whatever, right? Everyone has their kinks and I got a foot massage out of the deal so no biggy.”

“You’re not ticklish?”

“Uh uh. Not a bit.”

“Did he seem upset, or disappointed?” Emma said, trying her best to not feel too envious of what she saw as Deena’s natural advantage in life.

“Ahh, I don’t really remember.” The svelte woman narrowed her eyes as she searched the memory. “Too long ago. Plus, ha, I don’t really I think I cared how he felt.”

“Hm.” The redhead sighed, nodding thoughtfully and looking down at nothing in particular.

“Hm.” Deena mimicked her visitor’s sound with extra volume. “That’s it? You came all the way here to ask me these crazy questions and that’s all I get?” Pausing for a beat, the dark haired girl’s expression changed from amusement to frowning confusion. “Hang on a second…how did you even know Whitmore and I got together? I mean, you’re the first person I’ve ever heard mention it, even him and me didn’t talk about it afterwards. And you said you couldn’t find him now, so how did you know he tried to tickle me?”

“It’s um…” Emma said, finding herself on the back foot again as Deena’s perceptiveness got the better of her. “I was following Jason at the time.” She said, her tone thick with an air of confession. “I saw him go into your house…but I didn’t know actually know if he’d tickled you or not.”

“You were stalking him?” The taller girl’s chuckle returned, along with her smirk.

“No, god no. It wasn’t like that.” Emma said. “Look, I don’t have all the facts yet but I have good reason to believe that Jason might be connected to…something. I don’t know what, but I think it might involve tickling.”

Deena’s grin grew wide as she spoke. “What the fffffuck are you talking about?”

“Jason tickled me, a couple of times senior year.” The curvy journo said with a bite to her voice. “He never got very far with me, but I could tell he wanted to do more. A lot more. So I started following him around, the way I figured it, Jason couldn’t get what he wanted out of me so he was going to try and get it from other girls.”

“Tickling?”

“To the extreme, yes.” Emma said. “He tied me up, the second time. I nearly broke his hand getting away.”

“I don’t get it. Why come back now? Why do you care after four years?”

“Because I think there’s something else going on, beyond Jason.” The redhead said, her expression serious. “See, Jason wasn’t the only one who liked to tickle people. Mr. Lucas, the math teacher? Him and Jason were working together, at least once that I know of for sure.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Deena said. “Jason and Mr. Lucas had what, a team-up?”

“More or less, yes. They tickled Wendy Starr together…they tickled her worse than anyone I’ve ever heard of. Torture, is the word I would use.”

“It’s that bad huh?” The dark haired girl’s amusement faded. “Being tickled I mean.”

Emma looked the taller girl directly in the eye. “If you’re ticklish, really, really ticklish, there’s nothing worse.”

“Shit.” Deena said thoughtfully. “So…that happened, then what? You didn’t just randomly decide to come back and get revenge.”

“No. Wendy got tickled again recently, quite terribly, except it was women this time.” The buxom girl said, referring to the dancer’s Friday night debacle.

“This is getting more fucked by the minute.”

“I agree.” Emma said with a hint of Deena-style dryness. “I can’t see the connection, but it’s nagging at me. It’s too strange not to be related, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. You’re the hotshot writer, not me.” The laidback young woman said. “What about the other girls? I was far from the only chick who hooked up with Jason back in the day.”

“You and Wendy are the only ones who I’ve managed to get anything from.” The curvy girl said. “I spent most of yesterday and this morning calling other girls from our year. Some were ones who I knew got with Jason and the others were just in Mr. Lucas’ class. Most didn’t know what I was talking about. A few hung up on me. A couple I just couldn’t find.”

“Oh shit.” Deena said with what was clearly a sudden realization. “Remember when Jason broke his nose? There was some story about him fighting muggers or something.”

“Yeah…” Emma said, frowning in thought. “You remember who he was with when that happened, don’t you?”

The taller girl’s eyes widened. “Tanya Lowe…”

“Who disappeared a while later.”

“Right…right!” Deena said, pointing excitably at Emma. “Everyone said she went to France or something but it was senior year! Who just drops out that close to graduating?”

“What if it wasn’t muggers that broke Jason’s nose?” The petit girl said, her journalist-senses tingling at an all time high. “What if was Tanya Lowe?”

“Because he tried to tickle her!”

Emma nodded. “You see what I’m saying? There’s something going on here. Jason, Mr. Lucas, Tanya. And all this time later some random girls just happen to attack Wendy Starr? The same girl who was tortured years before?”

“It’s a cult.” Deena said definitively. “Gotta be, it’s the only explanation. They’re all culted up, some fucked up…tickling cult or something.”

“It’s something.” The shorter girl relaxed a little, unconvinced by the slender woman’s theory. “I just don’t know what yet.”

“Well, what are you going to do now?”

Emma tapped the countertop with two fingers and bit her top lip. “I don’t know. Keep calling the other girls I guess. Maybe see if I can track down Miss Stonewood.”

“Orrr…” Deena tilted her head forward and looked up from under her brow with a smile far too mischievous for Emma’s liking. “You could do like a real journalist and snoop around.”

“Uhh ha…” Laughing a little awkwardly, the comely girl shook her head. “That’s…not really how things get done anymore. I’m not really sure that’s how things were ever really done, you know, outside the movies.”

“Psssh!” The raven-haired woman said, leaping up from her stool. “Bulllllshit! If all you wanted to do was sit around and make phone calls you could have done that from New York.” Deena said as she strode purposefully toward the back corner of the store. “You really want to get to the bottom of this thing? You need to snoop baby, snoop!”

“Um…I wouldn’t even know-“ Emma said, stopping herself as she watched the brazenly marching music store clerk grab a black leather jacket from a coat hook. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“What are we talking about here?” The bold young woman said as she threw on her jacket and walked swiftly toward the front entrance. “Come on April O’Neil, let’s roll!”

“Roll? What-we’re not-“ Stammering as Deena blew right by her, the freckle-faced girl watched as the dark haired whirlwind flipped the door’s Open sign to Closed. “What about the store? Your boss-“

“I told you, fuck this job!” Deena said as she swung open the door, the tiny bell overhead jingling loudly. “Now are you coming or what?”

Emma looked around the store, completely unsure of what was going on, but undeniably excited by her interviewee’s fervor and drive for answers. “Mmm…alright!” She said and hurried after the taller girl. “But where are we even going?”

Chapter Six: The House on The Hill​

“We shouldn’t be here.” Emma said as she trudged through the woods.

“You want to find out what’s going on, this is how you do it.” Deena said, moving over the uneven ground several steps ahead of her shorter companion.

“We’re trespassing, it’s not even-“ The petit redhead paused to step over a root jutting from the leafy earth. “-it’s not even legal.”

“It’s a forest.” The taller girl said, finding her way through the trees with more ease than her curvy friend. “You can’t trespass in a forest.”

“I saw property markers a minute ago.”

“So what?” Deena said, placing one hand on a tree trunk as she looked back. “You were rearing to go all the way here. You see some coloured squares on a tree and now you’re turning chicken?”

“It’s not that.” The bosomy young woman said as she caught up to her slender partner in alleged crime. “I just thought we’d be able to see his house from the road or something.”

His house, of course, was that of the undoubtedly criminal high school math teacher Samuel Lucas. A few short minutes on Emma’s phone were spent poking around her former school’s website. With a little sleuthing online it had not been difficult for the savvy rookie journalist to locate Mr. Lucas’ place of residence. A 45-minute car ride and one long winding road later, Deena and Emma had parked at a small roadside lookout point that held a couple of picnic tables and a rather spectacular view of the city far below. From there, according to Emma’s GPS, the home of Mr. Lucas was only a short walk through a forested area.

“What if we get caught?” Emma said as she followed the darker haired girl up a small incline.

“We’ll say we got lost.” The more adventurous of the two girls said, reaching the top a lot quicker than her companion. “We went for a stroll at the lookout, took a wrong turn.”

“And just happened to end up at our old teacher’s house.”

“Coincidences do happen, you know.” Deena said before suddenly sidestepping behind a tall pine tree. “Keep your head down.” She whispered sharply.

“What is it?” Stopping in place, the shapely writer’s eyes went wide.

“I think…” Deena said, gingerly craning her neck around the tree to peer at whatever was on the other side of the hill. “It’s his house…but…I don’t know how a high school teacher could afford a place like this.”

“What are you talking about?” Raising her shoulders up around her neck, the smaller girl crept higher up the hill until she could peek just over the top. Sure enough, Deena’s confusion was well founded. Beyond the other side of the slope was a wide-open clearing of cobblestone. There was no car on the cobblestone, nor a single leaf, stick or even a tiny speck of dirt beyond where the forest floor ended and the driveway began. Looming over the clearing, perched on the edge of the steep hillside, was a large and modern looking two-story house. More a mansion than a house, Emma thought, and either way certainly more than a teacher’s salary would warrant.

“Do you think he’s home?” Deena said as Emma moved up to take cover by another nearby tree.

“Car could be in the garage.” The redhead said quietly. “Cars, probably.”

“Yeah. Inheritance maybe?”

“Who knows? It’s weird though, look how tidy it is. The house, the driveway, nothing out of place. Immaculate.”

“His classroom was the same.” The taller girl said, taking another look at the severely ordered property. “Never a pencil out of place.”

“Quiet too.” Emma said, leaning out from behind her own tree just enough to examine the suspected home of Mr. Lucas. “Hm.” She said thoughtfully, and leaned back behind the pine. “Now that we’re here, I’m not sure what we were hoping to discover by staring at the man’s house.”

“You want to go in?”

“No!” The freckled faced girl said a little louder than she had intended. “Despite the-the massive breach of ethics, if we were caught I really don’t think Mr. Lucas is the kind of man to call the police, you know? And I don’t want to be arrested if he does.”

“You worry too much, we got lost remember?” Deena said. “Besides, what’s he going to do? Tickle us? I’m not ticklish and he can’t take both of us anyway.”

“Great. So I get tickled to death while you get away.”

“Oh, come on…” The raven-haired girl said with a roll of her eyes.

“I told you, I came very, very close to being tickle tortured once.” Emma said, being sure to keep her voice hushed. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even the few minutes I went through.”

“All the more reason to expose him then, right?” Deena said, making more sense than the redhead wanted to admit. “If Mr. Lucas really has been torturing students like he did Wendy, we need to stop him don’t we? Him and whoever else. There could be proof right inside that door.”

“He’s too careful. Look at this place.”

“Maybe he’s too arrogant.” The taller girl said. “I mean, you found him out once already right? That was right in the school, and you weren’t even a real journalist then. He could have anything in his house.”

“Yes, but-“ Emma began, just as her ears caught a low hum echoing through the trees. “Wait, someone’s coming!” She said in a hurried whisper.

Falling silent, the two girls froze with their backs to their respective tree trunks. As the hum grew louder neither of the two sneaking young women needed to speak, clearly a car was making it’s way down the driveway. Looking across the gap between them, Emma was somewhat relieved to see that for the first time Deena looked almost as worried as she did. Within seconds a sleek black BMW emerged into the open yard, windows tinted as dark as legally possible. Taking a slow turn around the rounded edge closest to the hill where Emma and Deena hid, the expensive newer model car crawled to a stop 30 feet from the front door. When the engine shut off a moment later, Deena started crouching.

“What are you doing?!” The appalled redhead whispered as she watched the daring girl drop down onto her belly.

“Getting a better look.” Deena whispered back as she army-crawled out from behind her tree.

“Stop it, they’ll see you!”

“Shh!” The dark haired girl sneered, moving her way to the very top of the hill between both pines. “Someone’s getting out.”

Peering around gingerly, Emma watched as a young woman of maybe twenty-five climbed out from the back passenger’s-side door. Clad in an all-white one-piece suit that showed off every nook and cranny of the stranger’s body, the girl sported a truly curvaceous hourglass figure. Standing around 5’4”ft, the new arrival had wide flaring hips and spectacularly thick thighs. A slender waistline curved in and somehow supported her enormous and impossible-not-to-notice bosom, the kind of breast size that doubtlessly required a specialty store when bra shopping. Long locks of dark hair cascaded down to the rather severe curve at the small of her back, where the woman’s very pronounced butt jutted out. As she looked around, forlorn expression across her face, the girl’s big brown eyes and bronze skin made Emma think perhaps she was of South American descent. Stunning though she was, it was the woman’s peculiar clothing that really caught the redhead’s eye.

“She does not look happy.” Deena said, looking back toward her stealthy partner. “Super hot, but not happy.”

Looking down at the darker haired girl, Emma shook her head. “She’s not in any hurry either.” She said as the visitor down below took far more time than necessary to close the car door behind her. “I don’t think she wants to be here.”

Just as soon as the car door finally clicked shut, so too did the front door of the house click open. The sudden movement from the building sent Emma quickly back behind her tree, certain that no single part of her could be seen from either side of the large trunk. As she tried to steady her breathing Emma could hear the low murmur of voices coming from down by the house. A deep, bass voice, though she couldn’t make out the words she certainly recognized the speaker. Emma remembered the voice well, years before, dryly instructing Jason Whitmore on how to most efficiently, most sadistically torture someone. She couldn’t hear the buxom girl in white, if she said anything at all it must have been meek. There was another click, the front door closing, and silence returned save for a few lazily tweeting birds.

“She went in.” Deena whispered. “You were right though, she wasn’t happy.”

Emma peeked out from behind her tree, ready to whip back into obscurity at the first sign of Mr. Lucas. “We should call the police.”

“What for?”

“You know what he’s going to do to her.” Emma frowned, a touch irritated that Deena hadn’t immediately agreed.

“So?” The darker haired girl put on a deeper tone in her hushed voice. “Sorry officers, just a misunderstanding, we’re two consenting adults. The end.”

Emma sighed, partly because Deena was right, more because what was about to happen seemed horribly inevitable. The curvaceous visitor may well have looked miserable going into that large house, but sorrowful expressions were hardly evidence of crime. Whatever this was Sam Lucas had been doing it for years, that much was clear. He was meticulous, careful and terrifying. The more Emma thought about it the more she imagined the police having little success, Mr. Lucas likely talking his way smoothly out of any wild accusations. Accusations made by a couple of young women trespassing on his property, no less.

“Damn it.” Emma grit her teeth.

“Relax.” Deena rolled onto her back, resting the back of her head in her hands like she was relaxing at the park. “Maybe she’s being paid well for the trouble.”

“Or maybe she’s a sex-slave, did you think of that?” The redhead snapped a little more than she meant to.

“A sex-slave?” The svelte girl grinned, apparently as impervious to a sharp tone as she was to being tickled. “Come on. Your journo brain is going haywire. There’s no big conspiracy here. It’s just some kinky people doing kinky shit.”

Emma pursed her lips, shaking her head gently. “There’s more to it than that, there has to be. That girl, she’s wearing the same kind of peculiar material Wendy described, the same worn by the girls who attacked her.”

“It is a pretty weird outfit…” Deena said, making a quizzical face. “I’m looping back around to my cult theory.”

“Oh shoot!” Emma’s eyebrows flew up and she dropped to the ground without thinking. Something on the top floor caught her eye, movement in the great bay windows near the middle of the house. With a wince she crashed down onto the leaves and dirt, both thankfully quite soft.

“What is it?” Her partner in crime said, quickly rolling back onto her stomach for a better view. A moment passed, Emma reorienting herself while Deena narrowed her eyes on the upper room. “Oh my fuck…”

“What’s he doing?” The shorter girl crawled up beside Deena, both laying flat as they focused through the huge windows.

In plain view of anyone who might happen to be watching, Mr. Lucas, tall dark and handsome as ever, and his mysterious visitor stood halfway between the tall windows and the end of a huge, perfectly tidy bed. The olive-skinned girl, hands by her sides, stared glumly down at the thick white carpet around her slip-on shoes. Behind her the brawny bald teacher was reaching up toward the ceiling, taking hold of a thin cord, the kind one might pull to switch a ceiling fan on and off. With a gentle tug of the string no fan appeared to come on, instead a small hatch in the ceiling opened smoothly from either side. A second later, a thin silver wire came lowering down right over top of his comely guest, a pair of leather shackles attached to its end.

“Oh no.” Emma whimpered, her stomach twisting in knots. “That poor girl.”

Deena’s mouth was hanging half open, she shifted her eyes over to Emma and snapped it shut. “That is one crazy fuckin’ house.” She whispered.

“We have to do something.” The freckle-faced girl blurted out before thinking.

“Oh right.” The taller girl turned her attention back to the house. Mr. Lucas stood behind his visitor, gently guiding her arms up and over her head, much to the young woman’s dismay. “Unless you’re willing to trade places with her I’d say she’s boned.”

“We can’t let this happen.”

“Look.” Deena turned back to her new friend, her all-too-cool demeanor instantly dropping away. “There’s nothing we can for her, not now.” Emma went to speak, to argue more like, but Deena cut her off before she could utter a single syllable. “Even if we could stop this one, it’s not going to help the next girl, or the one after that. You want to expose…whatever all this is…you need to get evidence, do it properly. What she’s about to go through-“ She turned and eyed the house, where the busty Latino girl was having her wrists securely bound by Mr. Lucas’ bizarre ceiling-bondage device. “-we can make it count, we can make it worth it. You said he tortures girls, right?”

“Yes…” Emma said, equal parts curious and suspicious.

“So he’s probably going to be a while. And he’s going to be distracted.” The taller girl said, and Emma started to get a sinking feeling along with the knots in her belly. “We go in, find…something…duck out, quick as lightening.”

“Breaking and entering.” Emma said, her turn to interrupt. “Our list of crimes continues to grow, why not just murder the man while we’re at it? The driver too? We could start a spree, why not?”

Deena rolled her eyes, sighed and looked back to the house where the shapely girl was well and truly trussed up. “Suit yourself.” She shrugged. “Let’s just watch the show.”

On the other side of those grand windows, Mr. Lucas was pulling at the ceiling-string again. He held it down, keeping the cord taut while the thin wire raised the bound girl higher. Up and up the short woman’s arms stretched, pulling her voluptuous body tidy as she squirmed. When her arms became straight, elbows locked, her big eyes slowly went wide as she was forced onto tippy-toes in her white shoes. Mr. Lucas released the cord, letting it snap up out of his fingers. He loomed over the young Latina as she twisted weakly, dancing awkwardly as she tried to find the best position of balance.

Emma knew what was coming next and had no desire to watch, except she had the overwhelming sense that there was no choice. If she wasn’t going to help the least the cowardly redhead could do was watch on as some form of, Emma didn’t know, solidarity? She felt wrong, looking away, like the least she could do for that poor girl in the house was to bear witness to the suffering. An familiar feeling crept up Emma’s spine, her old friend, guilt. History was repeating itself, another helpless girl, Emma doing nothing. Damn it all, she thought, not this time.

“I’m going in.” Emma looked away just as Mr. Lucas was starting to move his pointed index fingers slowly toward the trapped woman’s taut underarms.

“…What?” Deena turned, her response somewhat delayed. Emma was already shuffling up of the ground. “No-wait, you don’t have to, I was joking, I just-“

“No, you weren’t.” Emma said, brushing off her knees as she stood half-crouched. “And you were right. We can’t stop this, not now, but we can try and make sure it never happens again.”

Out the corner of her eye Emma could see rapid movement in the house, the out-of-focus shape of forceful struggling. She looked to Deena instead, who was staring a little wide eyed up at her. “I’m coming too.” The taller girl said.

“You stay, keep watch.” The redhead said and turned to skulk off through the trees. She looked back over her shoulder, keeping her voice nice and quiet. “Text me if he leaves the bedroom…or if anything else happens.” And she moved on passed the first tree, desperately hoping Deena would say something so perfectly convincing that Emma would have no choice but to lay back down beside her.

Stunned silent, Deena watched the petit girl slink off along the hillside until she lost sight of her among the woods. Truthfully she had never expected things to go this far. A little light trespassing, some voyeurism, hell it would hardly be the first time Deena Tripp found herself in handcuffs, or the first time she’d broken the law. Emma Clark, quiet bookish, kind of a nerd, one of the last people Deena expected to be charging headlong into danger. It was only Emma’s mousy awkwardness that had fired Deena up so much, dragging the meek little strawberry blonde along on some half thought out adventure seemed more fun than wasting away in the record store for the next few hours. Now the situation was hurtling from fun to frightening at breakneck speed. And, Deena had to admit, strangely exciting.

Shifting focus back to the house, Deena’s eyebrows raised at the sight inside. Sam Lucas was drilling his index fingers deep into the thin material covering his captive’s hollows, the girl shaking wildly as she dangled from the ceiling. Her beautifully round face had gone from a pitiful expression to a wide, open mouth grin, though there was no humor in it. Where her full lips smiled broadly, the girl’s eyes had a look of deep anguish, her features contorting fitfully between hilarity and horrid pain. Deena could not hear anything, but it appeared through her laughter the young woman was talking, or screaming, or at the very least trying to say something desperate.

Strange, Deena thought as she lay upon the crest of the forested hill watching the bosomy girl kick uselessly, no one from years before seemed to quite be turning out how she expected them to. Emma Clark was courageous, evidently. And the math teacher, charming though he was, was turning out to be some sort of tickle-mad sadist. It was true Deena had spent most of high school avoiding getting to know people, but this was really getting out of hand.

Mr. Lucas’ hands, meanwhile, where full of his young visitor’s sides. From behind, the teacher turned torturer held his large paws in claw shapes, squeezing quickly at the thrashing woman’s convulsing midsection. Long black hair whipped back and forth, flying haphazardly as she threw her head around. Every which was she moved was an effort to escape and every move found only her host’s unrelenting fingers. Her movements also, Deena found it impossible not to notice, sent the girl’s hefty breasts jiggling in spectacular fashion beneath her tight white shirt.

Like watching a train wreck, Deena stared, unable to pry her eyes from the morbidly fascinating destruction. The handsome older man, stoic expression across his chiseled face, held such overwhelming power. With nothing but a few flicks of his fingers he had the sultry creature reeling, pleading, the desperation palpable even across the silent distance between them. Who knew tickling, something Deena had barely paid any mind to throughout her life, could cause a person to so immediately, so brutally, lose all control.

Several minutes into the ordeal and Mr. Lucas started hiking his helpless captive’s shirt up over her midriff. The young woman’s bronze midriff came into view, her bare tummy heaving breathlessly. It was then Deena realized she herself had been quite busy the last few minutes, absent-mindedly grinding her hips into the soft soil beneath her.

A short distance away, out of sight of everyone, she hoped, Emma crept across the enormous balcony of Mr. Lucas house. The great open deck spread around the entire front section of the cruel man’s affluent home, a brilliant view of the city sprawled out far below. She’d come down the hillside, almost to the point where it fell away completely, and worked her away along its edge until reaching the corner of the balcony. A highly skilled thief she was not, but with a bit of effort the sleuthing redhead did managed to heft herself up and over the low fence.

Making her way toward one of many sliding doors, Emma’s entire body prickled with the urge to turn and run back the way she’d come. Only the thought of that poor girl’s torment upstairs spurred the ambitious journalist on. Cupping her hands around the side of her freckled face, Emma peered into the well furnished, surgically tidy home through one wall-high window. No sign of anyone, thank fully. She checked her phone, no new messages, all signs pointed to soldiering on. Reaching out for the door handle, Emma assumed a man as careful as Mr. Lucas would surely keep every entrance firmly locked. She kind of hoped it was as she tugged at the door, only for it to slide smoothly open without so much as a hiss.

Where the door was silent, as soon as it cracked open the sound of uproarious laughter hit Emma’s ears. Squealing, distressed laughter echoed all the way down, through who knew how many rooms, straight to the cringing girl. For all his wealth, Emma wished Mr. Lucas had spent some money on soundproofing his interior. She opened the door just enough to squeeze through, her ample boobs squishing as she nudged her way into the monstrous math teacher’s den.

Sliding the door closed behind her, the hum of outside fading to nothing, Emma could hear words among the laughter. Broken cries for mercy, half screamed pleas that turned to high pitched screeching. The redhead’s heart raced, her brow furrowing as her sense of empathy played havoc on her mind. Emma feared for herself, of course, of being caught and subjected to similar torment. That tragic young woman upstairs was already in the throws of nightmarish tickling. At least Emma had Deena diligently keeping watch outside.

Back on the hill, Deena’s panties were starting to dampen. One hand clamped over her mouth, squeezing her jaw tight, she’d been fighting the urge to slip her other hand down below her belt for the last few minutes. Instead, Deena clawed at the dirt between her fingers, guiltily wishing the earth and leaves were the hopelessly sensitive flesh of that bosomy Latina. Confusion played its part too; the slender girl certainly hadn’t woken up that morning expecting to become hot and bothered by the sight of someone suffering. Yet, there she lay, grinding lewdly onto a forest floor, nipples stiffened against the inside of her cotton t-shirt.

Mr. Lucas had tugged the bound woman’s shirt higher, the tight material snug halfway up her large bosom. The undersides of the Latina’s fleshy boobs jiggled, ballooning out from under her shirt in full view, the bare sides of her tummy a hue of pink where she’d been rigorously tickled for minutes on end. From the distance it was hard to tell, but Deena could have sworn a light glisten of sweat had started to bead across the distraught girl’s delicate skin.

She was muttering something, shaking her head and talking quickly. The muscular giant pressed up behind her, reaching around from both sides, his arms in wide arcs so she could see his big hands before her. Deena could see his lips moving too, speaking slow and calm, the increasingly lustful girl could only imagine what he might be cooing in his victim’s ear. His fingers started to wiggle, slow at first and getting faster, his curvy victim already twisting and writhing in unwanted anticipation. Deena didn’t think she would be half so patient, horny as she was, thinking it best to simply ravage the dangling woman. Mr. Lucas though, he had patience, there was skill there, a dreadful artfulness that surely made his prisoner’s torment unbelievably worse.

Deena bit her plump bottom lip, clutching at the ground with both hands. Through the arousal, confusion, pity and guilt, the dark haired rebel found something else, a sense of mild admiration. Mr. Lucas moved slow, drawing his devilish hands ever-closer to the squirming woman between his steely arms. Like watching some apex predator on a nature documentary, the huge man waited for the perfect moment to strike. The moment when his prey’s vulnerability was at its absolute, nerve-wrecking peak. Except this was now documentary, this was happening right before Deena. She could have walked there in less than a minute, and the idea fueled her libido like mad.

Mr. Lucas’ hands snapped inward with the speed of a striking snake. With his forearms crossed over each other, all ten of the teacher’s brutish fingers clawed viciously at the busty girl’s defenseless ribs. She tried immediately to lurch backward, finding her tormentor’s great mass completely unflinching as her body convulsed among his muscles. Going nowhere fast, the violently shaking woman’s shoes dragged wildly at the floor, tip toes scrapping fruitless across the unhelpful carpet.

Allowing herself a throaty little moan, Deena had almost entirely forgot why she was spying from the wooded hilltop to begin with. From her hiding spot she could see the furiously fighting woman’s cheeks turning bright red, a sight that made Deena realize she was becoming a little flushed herself. If there was ever a time the slender girl had become so horny so damn fast, she couldn’t remember it. The steel tips of her heavy black boots were digging small holes as Deena’s long legs writhed, careless of the fact the front of her tight jeans were turning filthy. Hell, she thought, she was turning filthy, captivated by the hopeless display and loving every terrible moment.

God, that desperate creature in there wanted to escape. Forceful mirth stretched her red cheeks, eyes opening wide and closing tight bellow her miserably furrowed brows. All the while her jaw worked overtime, useless against the unstoppable laughter bellowing from within. Long locks flicked this way and that, head whipping back and forth, slamming into the monster’s broad chest pressed up behind her. Nothing she did, nothing she said –or screamed- would help free her from her plight.

Paying highly focused attention to every blistering hot detail, Deena took note of Mr. Lucas’ crotch pushed into the Latina’s jumping, bouncing ass. Brilliantly plump cheeks rubbing into the big man, if his cock was half as hard as Deena’s rigid nipples he was having a hell of a good time. Deena imagined the stern older man’s erection, wondered how big he was, starting picturing him, rippling muscles and sweat and his sharp gaze staring down at her. Or her staring down at him. The thought he was corrupt, even outright evil, committing a heinous act right before her eyes, it all made the flustered girl exponentially more turned on.

Without warning Mr. Lucas’ fiendish hands raced across the woman’s heaving tummy and started pinching furiously just above her flaring hips. Arching her back from the abrupt change in technique, the voluptuous victim’s shirt suddenly snapped up around her collar. Two huge olive skinned boobs spilled out, jiggling like great mounds of fleshy jello as she shook.

That was it, that was all Deena could take. Hurriedly she rolled onto her side, fumbling clumsily at her belt buckle while trying to keep watch on those magnificent swaying tits. Big brown nipples, stiff as rocks, visible even from the hilltop. Deena huffed, let her belt open, fiddled madly with the button and wrenched her zipper down. Her thin black panties were soaked through, fingers slick the moment she slid them down onto her sopping pussy. She found her clit, rolled back, planted her knees, one arm pressed underneath her as the enamored girl refocused her better view.

How Deena wished she was down there, so much so she was tempted to actually race down and knock on the damn door. Mr. Lucas’ might not mind a partner, he’d worked with Jason Whitmore after all. She could do it, her lust-crazed mind thought, she could offer to help, tickle that wailing girl together. How much worse would it be, tickled by two people instead of one; the idea had Deena squeezing her thighs, tight jeans flexing around her shapely butt.

Across the cobbled clearing, over the roof of the idle car and through the high windows, Mr. Lucas was moving slowly. The buxom girl dangled, hefty chest raising and lowering with quick breath, mouth hung open. There was no broad grin, now that the beastly man wasn’t forcing it, only a pained expression of dismay across the girl’s face. He wandered around his trembling captive, casual as a Sunday stroll, eyes fixed on his cruel task. Lucky for Deena, if Mr. Lucas did take a glance outside there was the slim chance he’d see her, or at least the top half of her head, rolling and squirming about between the trees like a forest nymph.

Deena slowed her eager fingertip, gently stroking her stiffened clit beneath her panties. She didn’t want to climax, not yet, though she surely could have. The show had slowed so did she, keeping to a steady pace as Mr. Lucas stood in front of the bound woman. His mouth moved a little, saying something, calm and collected. Whatever it was the response was less relaxed, the half naked woman shaking her head, her mouth moving much faster, talking desperately, begging. Deena realized her fingers had sped up again.

A flurry of movement came next, Mr. Lucas bending down and the bare breasted woman swinging backward, or trying her best to. Dancing on her tiptoes worked for a full second, gravity getting the better of her as it pulled the panicked Latina right back toward her foe. Deena couldn’t quite make out what was happening, the big man’s shoulder were moving, his arms darting one way and then the other like he was trying to wrangle an especially ornery cat. When he stood, Mr. Lucas was holding the woman’s right ankle in both hands, her legs kicking and jerking madly against his grip.

Turning wildly from side to side, the powerless girl twisted as far and hard as she could, which was not very far at all. Not far enough to break her bent leg free of the teacher’s clutches. Meanwhile the leg that was free could do nothing of worth, hopping pointless with nowhere to go. As Mr. Lucas turned his back on the bare chested girl, her huge bosoms bounced and squished together. Deena imagined herself, face buried deep between those great mighty tits, maybe her long fingers tickling at the woman’s twitching sides.

Mr. Lucas coiled his sinewy bicep around the kicking girl’s ankle, her expression cracking like she was about to sob. Maybe she was sobbing, it was hard to tell from the distance. There could have been tears, Deena felt a pang of pity in her chest, it lasted the blink of an eye, any sense of guilt washed away by a torrent of raging lust. The captive was begging hard, neck craned forward, big brown eyes surrounded by the whites as she stared gravely at her wicked host’s brawny back. Her foot poked out from the crook of his arm, tiny white shoe wiggling helpless. Mr. Lucas hooked one finger down between the shoe and the woman’s foot, the touch causing her to tug even harder than before. With a single pluck he popped the shoe clean off, the discarded piece of footwear tumbling to the floor, forgotten.

Deena had little frame of reference for someone having their foot tickled, she certainly lacked any personal experience. Whatever it was she didn’t know about having ticklish feet, the bound woman appeared to be all too familiar with, and a good way from happy about it. Her trapped bare foot was going as mad as the rest of her, squirming, trembling, tiny toes spreading wide and curling in. Mr. Lucas, with beautifully sadistic tact, raised his free hand over his shoulder, right where his quaking victim could get a good view. His fingers wiggled, slowly at first and gradually speeding up. After a few seconds, the woman’s eyes locked on those five threatening digits, Mr. Lucas lowered his hand back down, out of her sight. Deena could see it well enough though, moving with painstaking patience closer and closer to the woman’s defenseless naked sole.

When his fingers touched down, brushing softly across her tender heel, the buxom woman’s entire body was struck rigid. Her head whipped back, mouth flew open wide and then every part of her was moving with seizing lunacy. In a display of outright crazy, the sultry victim’s free leg bent up into the air, her hips thrusting forward, trapped leg kicking frantically at the knee. When her right leg stomped down she slipped, swinging back and screaming as her arm muscles strained. Up at the leather cuffs her fingers clawed desperately, searching impossibly for a way free. Deena couldn’t see any tears, but she would have been very surprised indeed if the tortured woman wasn’t crying a river.

For his part, Mr. Lucas appeared to be made of stone. He barely moved, despite the thrashing woman in his iron grip. Eyes fixed on the terribly sensitive foot under his arm, the big man’s fingers ran up over the woman’s arches, the marshmallowy balls of her foot and back down to the heel, steely expression unchanging all the while. Effortless, it looked like, no more difficult than typing and it was causing that buxom beauty to completely lose her mind.

Deena’s own mind was lost too, voluntarily and for a much more enjoyable reason. Giving her slick nubbin the rubbing of its life, the sopping wet girl was seriously considering introducing herself to the mystery driver. At that point Deena was so apocalyptically aroused she didn’t care who it might be sitting patiently in the driver’s seat. Heaven help her, if Emma happened to wander back up at that moment she’d probably have jumped the timid little journo. Hell, it wasn’t as if they were close, Deena and Emma had said more to each other that morning alone than they ever did throughout all of high school. Her carnal thoughts shifted to Emma, bound up and squealing, her wanton imagination plotting how exactly she might make that happen.

Movement caught the randy girl’s eye, through a window just off to the left of Mr. Lucas’ bedroom. Startled, Deena yanked her hand free and lay as flat as she could. Watching close she could see the shape of someone, someone’s head anyway, rising up slowly, a mane of frizzy strawberry hair appearing near the floor. Emma, sneaking her way up to the second story, taking each new step as soft and carefully as she dared. Deena propped herself up a few inches, took a relieved breath and felt somewhat remorseful for the lewd fantasy that had just been interrupted. Emma was a sweetheart, Deena couldn’t really do such awful things to her. Though, if the kindly redhead wasn’t careful she might end up having a few nasty things done to her regardless. Emma appeared at the top of the stairs, nothing separating her from Mr. Lucas but a single door and a few short meters.

Emma looked to her right and Deena could practically see her wincing from the hilltop. She turned back to the window, moved her head one way and then the other, scanning the hilltop for some sign of her backup. A good sign, Deena thought, she must have been pretty difficult to see up there. Deena raised herself a little higher, put one open palm up without waving, she didn’t want to make too much movement. Emma responded, gave a quick wave followed by an exaggerate shrug. She’d found nothing, not yet. Deena pointed toward the bedroom windows, then used the same finger to make a swirling motion around her ear. Severely turned on she might have been, but Deena still had to admit the entire situation was completely bonkers. Emma looked to the bedroom door again, back to Deena and pointed down the opposite end of the hall as if she had just then decided not to blunder on into the bedroom.

As her diminutive cohort trod gently away from the manic scene, Deena returned her eager eyes back to Mr. Lucas. He hadn’t stopped, from what the svelte girl could tell, not even for a second, five fingers still dancing tirelessly over his captive’s trapped foot. For her part the topless Latina was a hot mess, thrashing wildly against what might as well have been some sort of mechanical tickling device. Those big bouncing tits hypnotized Deena once again, the only thing stopping her from touching herself was the thought Emma might look back outside at any second. More was the pity. Perhaps, Deena thought as her libido quickly took the reins, she would have to find some way, later, to punish Emma for the inconvenience.

A few seconds later, right as Emma was slinking her way into some room down the hall, Mr. Lucas leaned down. With his free hand, before the tied woman probably even realized she wasn’t being tickled at that moment, he snatched up her other foot. Standing back to full height, the giant fellow easily wrapped his right arm around the buxom girl’s right ankle, both feet now firmly held between his wide chest and thick biceps. Bent up as she was, hanging in the air, the girl’s knees pressed into her bare breasts causing the cushy flesh to squish out on all sides. Shaking, kicking, no doubt pleading breathlessly, the poor creature appeared even more distressed than she had when Mr. Lucas grabbed only the one foot. Deena wouldn’t have thought the curvaceous woman could have looked more desperate than she did before, but she was all too happy to be proven wrong.

Crossing his forearms, the cruel older man’s big paws hovered in front of the helpless woman’s feet. With one hand he deftly picked away her remaining shoe, tossing it carelessly away, the bewildered beauty shaking her head with what must have been a mix of shock and disbelief. Both petit feet completely exposed, the sobbing girl was beside herself, creamy soles stretching back as if they could already feel Mr. Lucas’ fingers wiggling toward them. Wiggle he did, scribbling all ten of his fingertips over the girl’s devastatingly sensitive feet.

Holding her firm, the strapping man hardly seemed to use much effort at all to keep the crazed girl in place. He was unusually bulky for someone of his profession, Deena started to wonder if this was the reason why. She wondered how often Mr. Lucas did things like this, often enough that he had a specialized tool in his bedroom, that was certain. How many young women had he done this too, how many girls over how many years were living their lives in fear of the man? Were there women out in the world who woke sweaty from nightmares, memories of the terrible torments charming math teacher Mr. Lucas had put them through? The questions boggled Deena’s mind, and turned her on so much she couldn’t resist slipping her hand down between her thighs once again.

Deena imagined herself sauntering up behind the hysterical girl, reaching around her voluptuous body just as Mr. Lucas had done earlier. While the brawny teacher could keep tickling the frenzied girl’s feet, Deena would pinch at those big brown nipples, squeeze her bulbous tits and pinch impishly at her heaving ribcage. Perhaps when they were done, when the girl had well and truly been tickled out of her mind, Deena and her hulking new friend could make for the bed, or just strip and fuck ravenously right there on the floor.

A minute passed, maybe two, who the hell knew anymore, and Emma sleuthed her way out from the room she’d been searching. Deena halted her grinding hips but kept her hand at its carnal work, flicking her clit while trying to look unfazed. Emma didn’t look out, moving on to the next room. A good thing too, because the restless hilltop voyeur had a hard time prying her eyes from the ticklish assault in the other room.

Finding the edge of climax, Deena slowed. In the large bedroom Mr. Lucas was shifting his bulk, hands moving around the bound woman’s ankles. He wasn’t tickling her, though it was difficult to make out exactly what his game was. His hands were shuffling, grabbing at something, almost looked like his own shirt. Suddenly Mr. Lucas loosened his arms, let the girl swing back, her legs dropping out, and left her pants behind. With his back still to her, the hunky older man had pinched the bottoms of the woman’s pants, stripping them clean off as she fell away. He tossed the pants aside and turned back to his frightened toy, now dangling in only white lacy panties and her shirt, still hunched up around her collar.

Deena tensed, clenching her jaw. The sight of that bosomy bound girl stripped down to her panties almost sent Deena reeling over the edge, she had to pull back from her clit, writhing in the dirt as she fought the pending orgasm. She didn’t want to cum yet, not yet, all she needed was a little more show. Of course the timing would have to be perfect, Emma wasn’t going to be inside forever and it wouldn’t look too good if she found the green-eyed girl literally with her pants down. Unless Emma got caught by Mr. Lucas, then maybe there would be a whole new torturous spectacle on display. Deena couldn’t let that happen…could she?

Across the way, Mr. Lucas pounced, frightening speed defying his size. With clawed hands he was on the near-nude girl, pawing mercilessly at her heaving tummy and swelling ribs. Above his wiggling fingers the captive’s weighty boobs shook, an eye-catching result of the rest of her body struggling. The fitful girl’s legs kicked madly at the big man’s own, his legs firmly planted in place like great oaks. If her kicking caused any pain Mr. Lucas didn’t show it, and from what Deena could see every blow was uncoordinated, unplanned and entirely without aim. Nothing about the hysterical Latina looked like it was the result of coherent thinking, her head shaking, laugh-crying, stretched arms straining helplessly, all of it on a lunatic’s instinct.

Temptation getting the better of her, Deena was rubbing mindlessly at her clit with abandon. The teacher’s skilled digits were racing up and down, pinching supple ribs and kneading at the stripped woman’s sides. He shot his hands up, wriggled fingers around the outer edges of her glorious tits. Her torso glistened with sweat and Mr. Lucas did his part to help her cool, grabbing at the bunched-up shirt and hiking it up and over her head. With her taut underarms out in the open the ruthless man sent his fingertips skating all over her smooth hollows, the poor creature bucking violently in the air.

Deena stifled a moan, then figured screw it and let herself gasp openly, not caring a smidge if the driver or anyone else heard. Her spine was tingling, thighs quivering under tight denim. When Mr. Lucas’ fingers danced around his victim’s naked breasts and flickered over her big nipples, Deena lost control. Soaking her hand in hot lust, the squirming girl slid her long legs, boots scraping hard into the dirt. She moaned, eyes unmoving from the tit-tickling, cumming loudly as she drove her clit into over-sensitive submission.

While Deena writhed on the forest floor, Mr. Lucas appeared to be making his own way toward primal release. With hard, forceful movements he grabbed at the bound woman’s wide hips and spun her around. Tearing hands clutching at the unwitting guest’s cotton panties, pulling them down. She squeezed her thick thighs together, one last feeble attempt to remain clothed, but it didn’t even slow her tormentor down. The discarded panties fell around the Latina’s ankles, her astonishingly curvy ass bare, and in full view.

Doing her best to look behind, the nude girl was saying something, pleading, still fighting for mercy or freedom or even just a small respite. Mr. Lucas had no give, the woman’s distress falling on deaf ears as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. The man had muscles everywhere; his back a rippling sea of flexing brawn, sides sinewy with brute strength. Working his belt with far more precision than Deena had unbuckled her’s, the Herculean teacher dropped his pants, briefs falling down along with them. Completely nude he kicked back the pile of clothes. He was even bigger than Deena had imagined, huge erect cock curved up toward the ceiling.

Feeling her arousal spike, rushing madly toward another climax, Deena showed her tender clit no mercy. Barely able to stand her own touch, the dark haired girl flexed and cooed, abs curling over as she wrestled with herself. How helplessly the bound woman over in the bedroom must have wished she could wrestle. Wrestle free of her cuffs, wrestle Mr. Lucas. She would never have won, though it would surely have felt a tiny bit better to have some measure of chance, rather than the crushing defeat she had.

Slipping his hands between the buxom Latina’s thighs, Mr. Lucas faced his palms away from one another and grabbed at the insides of her legs. With sheer brute force the nude man lifted the girl, spreading her legs apart as she was hauled upward. Her knees up near her shoulders, the disheveled creature kicked weakly as her assailant drew her back toward him. From the angle she was at on the hilltop Deena couldn’t quite see the girl’s whole face, but when the helpless woman looked down it was clear what she saw. Deena tried to imagine it herself, seeing Mr. Lucas’ enormous shaft appearing between her wide-spread thighs, rock hard and pulsing. Deena moaned, she’d have gleefully taken a cock in that moment, hell she’d have taken three.

Mr. Lucas shifted his weight, the nude girl in his unflinching grasp shifting her own, big butt grinding on his well-defined abs. His thick muscles tensed and swelled as he pawed at her, forcing her legs wider, his fingers deep in the girl’s soft flesh. There was a sharp jerk up with his hips as the Adonis looking man bent under her slightly, the exhausted woman arcing her back in response. She threw her head back, mouth in a wide O-shape. The big man’s chiseled ass tightened, pulling back and sliding up again. He was in her, pumping slow, agonizingly slow, Deena just wanted to see the girl fucked silly.

As she took her master’s engorged cock, the busty girl’s fingers gripped at the thin wire tight between her hands, knuckles turning white. Her eyes were so wide the whites could be seen all around, tongue hanging over her plump bottom lip as she was bounced up and down. Mr. Lucas was getting faster, the woman’s huge tits jiggling more as he took her again and again. Hot sweat glistened on their straining bodies, thick beads rolling down the severe curve of her lower back and into the press of skin between them. He was moving quick and hard, powerful legs pushing his hips and cock deep, the girl a trapped mess of tortured lust atop him.

Deena wanted to cum, wanted Mr. Lucas to cum, she wanted the girl to moan loud enough to be heard on the hilltop. She wanted all three of them to cum together, a blissful wreckage of perversion and fuming hot chaos. Just then, as Deena could scarcely stand another second of the best fucking she’d ever laid eyes on, Mr. Lucas leaned in and put his mouth to the nape of the woman’s neck. There was no way to tell exactly what he was doing, biting or licking or working his lips, maybe all three. Whatever it was sent the nude woman reeling instantly. Pulling her head down close to her raised shoulder, the helpless Latina’s mouth contorted from a passionate gape to a pained grin. She was laughing, the big man’s cock still inside her, his thrusts unwavering as she twisted and turned, bare bosoms flying up and down, unrestrained.

Too caught up in the moment, or perhaps it was just a lack of imagination on her part, but Deena had never once considered someone could be both fucked and tickled at the same time. The revelation equal parts blew her mind and libido, drenching her hand a second time as lightening spread out through her body. She closed her eyes, riding the waves of ecstasy as they swelled in her lower tummy and crashed through her limbs, chest, and sopping, throbbing pussy. The effect must have been quite extraordinary on the captive girl too, her lower legs kicking frantically as she cackled and thrashed, face twisting into a strange mixture of hell and primitive lust.

Slowing her slick fingers, Deena winced, sighing and breathing heavy. Inside, Mr. Lucas’ steely muscles were flexing all over, his grip hard around the young woman’s legs. The usual stoicism of his expression changed, making something like a frown as he worked his mouth in between the sweat-glistened woman’s hunching neck and shoulder. Every new thrust was more powerful than the one before, the woman’s voluptuous body being ridden so hard the silver wire holding her up was turning slack with every pounding drive upward. One more vigorous thrust into her and the Herculean man took a step back, letting her legs drop and snapping her curvy body taut.

Surely the sorrowful Latina couldn’t take anymore, Deena certainly couldn’t, her swollen clit a bundle of fiery nerves. She wouldn’t dare touch herself, not while so hypersensitive, even if her libido was still running hot. Watching on, Deena wondered about the smolderingly hot woman’s own state of sensitivity, tickled and fucked into oblivion. Wherever her mind was, she hadn’t any time to collect herself after being dropped before Mr. Lucas’ diabolical digits were digging viciously into her sides.

The nude woman lurched forward, toes reaching out to find a grip on the fluffy carpet and instead swung helplessly back toward her tormentor. Caught between his hands, the cackling woman wailed with unheard laughter as she spun around. Twirling uselessly, the painfully ticklish woman spun clockwise, Mr. Lucas’ fingers racing around her back, sides, tummy and pinching playfully at her big round ass cheeks.

Exhilarating as it was to watch the big breasted beauty shake with involuntary laughter, Deena’s eyes kept flicking to Mr. Lucas’ huge cock. Glistening slick all over, his bulbous purple cockhead throbbed fast, a delectable sight as Deena had ever seen. With a quick jerk of his hips the big man’s lips drew back, his teeth clenched and frown drawing down further. Keeping his fingers speedily poking and stroking the rotating woman, Mr. Lucas burst a great thick load of white cum onto her. Another and another, cum painting the woman’s heaving midriff, her back, her bouncing butt cheeks. He soaked the degraded captive, not once pausing the ongoing tickle attack. The destitute creature continued to squeal hysterically as she was drenched with the beastly man’s depraved cream, rotating in a debasing show of humiliating torment.

Then, as if he were doing his laundry, Mr. Lucas’ face returned to its default state, almost looking slightly bored. He reached up, unbuckled one of the gasping woman’s wrists and her arm dropped, leaving her dangling limply by one hand. Hooking one arm under shoulder, Mr. Lucas used his other hand to release the Latina’s other wrist and she slumped breathlessly into the huge man’s tree-trunk like arms. With no sign of a care or special treatment, he dragged the ravaged woman over to his bed and hauled her up onto the mattress. She lay there, great big breasts raising and lowering, covered in sweat and cum.

Turning away, Mr. Lucas started to pick up the various pieces of discarded clothing littering his otherwise spotless floor. At around the time the sadistic educator was picking up his own trousers, Deena caught sight of Emma emerging from a room at the far end of the hall. The hall of the house, which had surely fallen very quiet now that the show was over.

“Oh shit!” Deena snapped back to reality. Emma didn’t look out, instead started making her way back toward the stairs, every step closer to Mr. Lucas bedroom. Efficient as he was devious, the big man was plucking the last item of clothing from the floor, the wheezing Latina’s lacy white panties. He might have a laundry hamper in the room, or he could head straight for his laundry room, either way Deena did not expect him to stay there for much longer. Fumbling for her phone, her wet hand pawing at the tight pocket at the back of her jeans, the dark-haired girl watched uselessly as Emma wandered closer and closer toward her doom.

“Come on…come on…” Deena cringed, punching out a quick message and hitting ‘send’. She lay on her back, front of her jeans wide open. Tossing her phone into the dirt, Deena grabbed at her zipper, hiked it up quick over her sordid panties. With her eyes locked on the phone screen, impatiently waiting for any response, the somewhat panicked girl yanked her belt together, snapping the buckle shut before snatching up her phone again. Nothing, no reply.

“Damn it…” She whispered, rolling over and surveying every window on the upper floor. There was the naked Latino, still breathing heavy, sprawled across Mr. Lucas be and…no Mr. Lucas. No Emma either. “Damn it!” Deena said, considerably louder. “What do I do? What do I do?”

“Are you okay?” Emma’s voice, her sweet, innocent, delightfully relieving voice came from Deena’s left. She was creeping, crouched at half-height from between the trees.

Deena turned with a start. “There you are! Scared the shit out me!”

“Sorry.”

“Did you find anything?” The slender girl said, only then realizing there were a few dead leafs in her hair from all the rolling around. She propped herself up on one elbow, laying on one side and noticed a collection of leafs and dirt smattered across her body from collar to boots. Evidently, Emma noticed too, it would have been impossible not to.

“No…” She said, a quizzical look crossing her freckled-face as she looked her debris covered friend up and down. “He’s too careful…what uh, what happened to you?”

Deena sat up, brushing herself off hurriedly, like a child trying to hide the wrappers from stolen candy while their parent watched. “Me?” She stood up, picking twigs off of her shirt. “I fell.”

“You…fell?”

“Hey look!” Deena said, spying movement in the house and grateful for the distraction. Mr. Lucas appeared, coming from the far side of his bedroom, exiting what must have been a washroom or walk-in closet. He worse dark pants and a calm, almost unimpressed expression.

Both girls crouched quickly, peering at the lumbering giant in his lair. He wandered to foot of his bed, grabbed the bewildered Latina’s wrists and pulled her, forcing her to sit up. Something was said, impossible to tell what, the girl nodding glumly in response. She stood up, shakily, a lost look in her eye and made way for the bedroom door. Emma and Deena exchanged a puzzled glance, the tortured girl was making her way down the hall, down the stairs, every step stark nude. She disappeared down the steps and Mr. Lucas strolled out of his room. He made way down the hall, passed the stairwell and into one of the rooms Emma had explored.

“What’s in there?” Deena said, whispering again.

“His study.” The redhead said, not taking her eyes off the affluent home. “There were test papers on his desk, looked like he was halfway through marking them.”

“So he tortures that chick and then just goes back to marking papers? This fuckin’ guy, I swear.”

A still moment later and the front door clicked open, the buck naked young woman plodding through. She closed the door gently behind her, too gently, like she was doing everything in her power to not make the tiniest sound -which she probably was. She turned to make way for the waiting car and Deena snapped around, putting one hand on Emma’s shoulder. “We have to go.”

“Yeah. I don’t think much else is going to happen here.”

Deena started getting up, quick as a fox. “No I mean, we have to go, right now.” She said, hushed and hasty. Sliding her hand down the redhead’s arm, she grabbed at her elbow and tugged her up too. “We have to follow that car!”

“She’s one of them, right?” Deena started off into the woods, one hand pulling at Emma’s wrists and dragging her along with awkward, tripping steps. “The cult or, whatever! Maybe we can find out where they are, where they took Wendy the other day!”

“I don’t know, we already-“

“Are you kidding me?!” The excitable girl spun around, waving her hands as she spoke. “You just snuck into the lion’s den! We came this far! Come on!”

Wrinkling her nose, the shorter girl sighed and started to nod. Deena grabbed at her arm again and they were off, both crashing down the forested hill toward the lookout, toward the car.

Toward far more than either of them ever bargained for.

Continued...​
 
Chapter Seven: Run Rabbit, Run​

The further they drove from the city the more both girls realized neither of them knew where they were. They had both grown up in the suburbs. Deena visited cousins in the country from time to time and Emma’s family had a lakehouse just out of town, but neither her nor Deena had the first idea where the black car was leading them. Full credit to Deena, she was a deft hand at tailing another vehicle without being spotted, though she swore it was her first time doing so.

“What’s your phone say?” Deena said, turning down the radio. Their target was some distance ahead, making a turn at the end of a long straight. For a while now the roadside had been little more besides farmland and spots of trees.

Emma shook her head. “There’s nothing out here. No shops, not even a gas station.”

“Just an insane Satan worshipping tickling-sex-cult.”

“They worship Satan now?”

Deena grinned out one side of her mouth. “Maybe, I’m sure he’d approve of what we saw back there.”

“Mm.” Emma grimaced, she was trying not to think about it. Though she hadn’t witnessed that poor woman being tortured the redhead had heard every screeching plea for mercy, every shriek of hellish laughter bouncing off the walls. A little too much like hearing Wendy Starr do much the same, and again Emma found she had done nothing to help. She had to change that, she had to find something that would bring Mr. Lucas down.

“Oh-oh, here we go…” Deena said, slowing around the same bend their quarry had gone around moments before.

Down another long stretch, the road notably better maintained than others in the area, shadowy forest ran along either side. The dark car with the nude Latina inside was turning into a driveway, the first one they’d seen for miles and the only one made of asphalt in at least half an hour. Drifting off to the right, Deena rolled to a stop in the gravel shoulder and switched off the engine. Up ahead, the dark car stopped, taillights sticking out from behind the first tree.

“I don’t like this.” Emma said, looking around like she was being watched. “Did they see us? Why did they stop?”

Deena was annoyingly calm. “Maybe they lead us out here.”

“Be serious.”

“What, I don’t know!” The grinning girl laughed. “This whole day is nuts! Who knows what anyone does way out here.”

The brake lights turned off and the car started rolling ahead, disappearing down among the woods.

“There, see?” Deena reached down beside her seat and pulled the small lever, leaning back to a more relaxed angle. “All good in the wood.”

Emma looked to the slender girl, stretched out, arms behind her head, not a care in the world, or at least she looked like it. “We have to go look…” She said, not entirely sure of herself. “…don’t we?”

Deena spoke without opening her eyes. “Unless you have a helicopter in your pocket it’s gonna be hard to see where they went from here.”

“Are you…keeping watch again or…”

“I can come.” Deena opened one eye, smirking like she had her own private joke. “We should wait ‘til night though.”

“That’s hours from now.”

“All gung ho now, ain’t ya?”

“Well, I already trespassed once today.” Emma said, trying to sound cool. “Besides, we’ll just take a peak down the driveway. If anything seems off we can go.”

“IF anything seems off.” The dark haired girl chuckled.

Emma unclicked her seatbelt and took hold of the door handle. “Are you coming then…?”

“I already did.” Deena muttered under her breath. “Let’s go!” She said a good deal louder as she sprung up and opened her door.

Approaching the driveway, Emma kept looking back to the car. There was a story here, she knew it, and a big one. The risks though, the risks were big, for someone like Emma, someone so cripplingly sensitive, they could scarcely have been bigger. Success meant making a name for herself, failure meant potentially making enemies of some very, very scary people. Mr. Lucas alone was utterly terrifying. All the way up to the driveway Emma debated her choices. A story like this could make her, getting caught…getting captured…that would, undoubtedly, break her.

Just beyond the first row of trees was a tall iron gate, a imposing black thing of straight bars and deadly spikes. Either side stood a grand stone wall, its length stretching out through the woods, at least ten feet high.

“Well?” The taller girl said, looking at her petit friend expectantly. “It’s your barbeque, what do you want to do?”

Emma fretted internally, tightening her lips as she thought it over. A tickling group or cult or club or whatever it was. Suddenly she felt like Indiana Jones; Tickling, why did it have to be tickling? Black cars dropping off unwilling young women to the home on an unusually wealthy high school teacher. Girls dressed in white tormenting strippers. All that strange business senior year, Jason Whitmore’s bizarre lesson with Mr. Lucas and poor, dear Wendy Starr. Tanya Lowe, missing. Miss Stonewood, run out of town. The whole thing made Emma’s head spin.

“I want to go home and curl up with a good book and forget all this.” The freckle-faced girl took a step toward the intimidating gate. “But that’s not we’re going to do.”

Deena gave a smile and an approving nod, then they were off. At the foot of the wall, just to the left of the gate, the slender girl took a knee and made a cup with her hands. She tensed her arms and made a motion, raising both hands together, eyebrows raised with invitation. Emma took a deep breath and did a kind of jog turned hop, stepping one foot up into her friend’s hands as she jumped. Hoisted by Deena, the redhead found herself clambering at the top of the wall a lot quicker than she had expected.

“You don’t have to come.” Emma lay on her tummy, looking down.

“Oh really?” Deena reached up toward her perched partner. “And how are you going to get back over the wall without me?”

Hard not to concede that point, Emma had always been a good deal more successful in less physical pursuits. Proved immediately as she strained to lift Deena up, the taller girl doing the lion’s share of the work and then some. One they were both up on the wall, getting down was much easier. Hanging off, dropping the last few feet. Deena landed with something cat-like grace, or a cat that wore heavy leather boots anyway. Emma fell, lost one knee, stumbled, nearly ended up on her butt and managed to flail to a sort of dumb recovery. She did not miss gym class. Or, in fact, she had missed quite a lot of gym class while hiding in the library. Perhaps that was the problem.

“Let’s stay off the driveway.” Emma whispered as they stood among the tree trunks.

“Okay!” Deena said, far too loud, halfway to yelling.

“No!” Putting her open palms up in stop-gesture, the bookish girl snapped. “What are you doing? Be quiet!”

“Calm down, no one’s going to here us out here.”

“Can you be serious? Please? For one minute?”

“Tell you what, I’ll be more serious if you lighten up.” Deena said and gave the shorter girl a cheeky poke in the side.

“Ee! No!” She jumped, slapping the frustrating girl’s teasing finger away. “Seriously! If you don’t want to do this, just wait here.”

Deena put up her hands this time, a sign of surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry, I am.”

Emma made a disgruntled huff and trudged on into the woods. Watching her cute little friend march away, the feeling of soft midriff still fresh at the tip of her finger, Deena felt a tinge of the excitement she’d found at Mr. Lucas’ house. Curious as she was to find out what was going on, part of Deena was starting to regret not taking advantage of her time alone with Emma. All that time in the car on quiet roads, to think she could have been tickling her silly the whole drive there. Of course, then Deena would have probably been horribly distracted and sent them careening off the road. Still, the taste of wasted opportunity was all the more palpable now she’d made the redhead squeal.

Following the well-kept driveway the intrepid pair kept their distance, a few trees between them and the asphalt. Naturally walking on the driveway itself would have been quicker, but they didn’t want to risk a random car coming along. A random car full of tickle-crazed maniacs, more to the point. The journey took a while, longer than either of the girls expected, no sound besides their footfalls and tweeting of friendly birds. Finally, after what turned into more of a hike than a quick sneak through the trees, the woods ended.

“Weird.” Deena stated plainly, standing at the edge of a seemingly endless expanse of grass. Not just any kind of raggedy, wild grass either. Perfectly trimmed, healthy green, mowed and clipped and flat to perfection. To the left and right stretched the tree line, eerily straight all the way to the horizon. Ahead the peculiar grasslands did the same, carried on for what looked like forever until reaching the sky. Only one thing stood out among all the green, about a half-mile away, an enormous Victorian era mansion. The flawless driveway lead right up to the front of the mansion, where a huge water fountain acted as a roundabout.

Emma saw Deena’s mouth hanging slightly open and realized her own mouth was doing the same. “I don’t know what I expected, exactly, but it wasn’t this.”

“I am…” The taller girl paused, not taking her eyes off the huge house as she spoke. “…very confused.”

“Eccentric millionaire…tickling…cult?” Emma said, believing each word less than the one before it. “I’m starting to get the feeling whatever’s going on here is a lot more complicated than we thought.”

“Um.” Deena laughed, though there was a scant amount of humor in it. “I didn’t think anything. Honestly, I kind of thought we’d just hang out, maybe do a little light B and E. This shit? This is the Twilight Zone.”

“Well, we came this far.”

“No, no. You know what, even if I was game to keep pushing this, which I’m not, there’s no way we could get all the way over there without being seen.”

The redhead looked across that half-mile of wide-open space and had to agree. A small rabbit wouldn’t be missed out there, even at a glance. “You’re right. Let’s…huh?”

There was a flurry of activity at the mansion. The two huge wooden doors came open, followed immediately by four, five, six figures scurrying out toward the fountain. There were more coming behind them, a dozen at least, all dressed in stark white. Scurrying across the asphalt they passed the dark car, parked idle right out front, split into two groups and ran around the ostentatious water feature. Both Emma and Deena narrowed their eyes.

“Are they…” Deena began.

“Coming right for us!” Emma squeaked, her legs suddenly feeling like jello.

“Shit. Shit shit. Fuck!” The slender girl waved her hands up and down pointlessly as she stammered. “We need to, we should-“

“RUN!”

And they were crashing through the woods like hunted prey. Neither of the girls was much the athletic type but few things make a person sprint quite so well as fear and a heavy dose of adrenaline. With her considerably longer legs Deena got ahead, a sight that sent Emma’s spine tingling with horror. Deena could flee, and if she got caught she had her natural advantage. Emma imagined herself left behind, no such advantage, in fact a terrible, awful, nightmare of a weakness for the girls in white to exploit. Sure Deena might get help, but how long would that take? The terrified redhead spurred herself on, thighs burning as she closed the gap on her speedy cohort.

Somehow, the way back from a place always seems to be quicker than getting there. Add in a big dose of abject panic and that becomes doubly true. In what seem like only a few short moments, Deena had reached the stonewall, Emma only a few hasty strides behind her. Back through the woods, the girls in white could be heard, snapping sticks and trampling on, like hungry bloodhounds.

“Hurry!” Deena snapped, like Emma needed telling.

Puffing frantically, the curvy redhead bounded onto Deena’s cupped hands and scurried atop the wall in one swift movement. She couldn’t have performed a feat like that in a million years, not if she tried. As she turned awkwardly, Emma wobbled, waving one arm stupidly for balance. Just as the buxom young woman corrected herself, the hoard of white-clad girls came bursting from the trees. Blondes and brunettes, a redhead, tall, short, tanned, pale, a variety of nubile young ladies all with a excited grins over their beautiful faces.

“Emma!” The slender girl jumped a few inches, reaching up desperately.

“Come on, come on!” The fretful redhead reached down, straining as the tips of their fingers touched, right before Deena was snatched away. “No!” Emma snatched her own arm back up, petrified at the thought of being pulled down into the mad crowd.

“Get off me!” Deena barked as she was swarmed upon, dragged down into a sea of limbs and grunting, struggling and forceful movements. Surrounded, overpowered and fighting every inch of the way down to the ground. “You bitches! Get the fuck off me!”

One of the girls looked up, a green eyed brunette with olive-skin. “Get that one!”

Emma’s eyes shot wide. She couldn’t help Deena, not now. She felt like the greatest coward the world had ever seen, but there was nothing for it. Fighting of a dozen crazed women would never work and she wouldn’t be much use to anyone tickled to death. A trio of girls broke off from the bunch, bolting toward the gate. Now or never, Emma thought, there would be plenty of time for regret later, and she’d need a lot of time for all the regret she had. With a push the buxom girl shoved herself clean off the wall, dropping down the full ten feet and landing roughly in the dirt below.

As she scrambled up, clawing at the stonewall, Emma could hear Deena continuing to scream obscenities on the other side. Darting off across the driveway, Emma sprinted onto the roadside as the great iron gate started sliding open behind her. She didn’t look back, she knew what she’d see, the three hounds of hell chasing after her and ready to pounce. Emma got a sinking feeling as she came within spitting distance of the car, the awful thought that the keys were likely in Deena’s pocket. Fumbling with the driver’s side door, the best she could hope to do was lock herself in, use whatever time might get to call the authorities before the girls in white broke in.

Swinging open the door, Emma leaped in, slamming it hard behind her. The three girls were slowing to a jog, breathless, red faced but still grinning like Cheshire cats. Emma slapped one hand up near the ignition and felt a keys, heard the beautiful, sweet sound of jingling metal. “Yes!” She squawked and turned those wonderful, relieving keys for all they were worth.

“Where are you going?” One of the girls said, slapping her palms on the hood of the car.

The engine revved with a roar and Emma threw the car into drive, just as the other two girls were circling around toward her. “You can’t leave now!” They teased, not appearing all too concerned about the redhead’s daring escape. “What about your friend?” They sang, wiggling their fingers menacingly at the window. “You know what we’re going to do to her!”

Emma hit the pedal, tires kicking up dust as she tore away onto the road. “Good luck!” She yelled. They didn’t hear her, but it felt good to know Deena would be okay until help arrived.

Chapter Eight: Too Cool for School

Deena fought them every step of the way. They’d pinned her by the wall, hands pressing on her arms and legs and back, more than one boldly squeezing at her well-toned butt. It was not lost on her that for the second time that day she was laying face down on a forest floor, though the second time had already become much less pleasant than the first. When they wrestled her arms back Deena strained and cussed and kicked and swore she’d have her vengeance on each and every one of them. In response the girls poked and prodded at her, doing their best to elicit some reaction. All they got was more cussing.

It took two girls on each limb to make the struggling girl do anything. In a strange way she had to admire their preparation, binding her hands and ankles with zip-ties. Who just kept zip-ties handy, seriously? Were they really kidnapping people that often they just kept them on hand? Along with the useless attempts to tickle her came a slew of attempted teasing, telling the iron-willed girl to save her energy, how much fun they were going have, how much fun she wasn’t going to have. Fat chance. After Deena’s newfound love of seeing someone driven crazy, these idiots were dragging a lion into a mouse-den.

She refused to stand when they hauled her up, letting herself fall limp. When they resigned to carry her, Deena bucked wildly, her long black hair whipping around while she yelled obscenities. There was no escaping the girls in white, that much was obvious, but the defiant girl would be damned if she’d make it easy on them.

As they reached the driveway the black car arrived, slowing neatly to a halt. The trunk opened and the hoard of women tried to make Deena kneel, except she wouldn’t bend her legs. After a few moments one of the more frustrated women had to knock their captive behind her knees to make them bend. Deena forced a laugh, as bratty and irritating as she could make it, if they wanted an inch from her it’d cost a mile. Out of nowhere a black bag was shoved over her head, and the day fell away. All but blinded, Deena felt herself being lifted and stuffed into the trunk, lid slammed sharply behind her. Finally, out of sight from the enemy, the rattled girl took a deep breath, exhausted from the running, the struggling and the mental fortitude it took to put on such a brave face.

The ride to the mansion was long enough and smooth enough that it gave Deena time to recover. She rallied her willfulness for the next round, caught her breath and searched for anything she could use a weapon. A tire iron would have been nice, alas there was naught but darkness and that new car smell. Deena could hear the fountain when the engine shut off and the trunk opened a few seconds later, her mouth spilling with any vile threat she could imagine a second after that. Hands grabbed at her legs and arms, carrying her thrashing indoors, upstairs, around one corner and another. Deena kept struggling, kept fighting, hoping if nothing else she might knock down some antique vase or ornament, send it smashing to the floor out of sheer spite.

Her back hit something and they pushed her shoulders to it, a flat surface, like a wall but slanted back just a touch. They cut her ankles free first and lifted one up, which was a great effort on their part and took more than a few attempts to keep her still. Deena felt something wrap around her ankle, thicker and wider than the zip-tie, it pulled tight and secured her ankle in place against the leaning wall. Her hands came next, cut free and held firm by two girls each, they pulled her arms up, someone jabbing her in the ribs uselessly as they did. Deena felt the same thick banding wrap around her wrists, the sound of metal buckles clinking as they were secured. Stretched taut and off the ground, the furious girl kicked violently with her one free limb. Three women strained to press her leg down, a fourth locking it firm a couple of feet from the other one. Finally, her body bound into an upside down Y shape, Deena could only breath raging breaths from her flaring nostrils.

There was panting and puffing around her, the sound of the dozen girls catching their breath. They’d won, at least in getting her strapped down, but Deena was happy in the knowledge they’d had to work for it. Soft footsteps shuffled around, there was some light muttering Deena couldn’t quite make out, then silence. As best the trapped girl could tell the pack of lunatics had left the room, whatever the room was. She found out a moment later, when the bag was swiftly pulled from her head.

Deena didn’t know what she was expecting exactly…but it wasn’t this. A small room, bigger than a prison cell but by much, and far cleaner. Surgical, even. The walls, floor and ceiling were all pristine white, save for the wall directly opposite the bound girl where her own reflection stared back at her. A large mirror took up the entire top half of one wall, Deena could see the one and only door was behind her. That was where she’d make her escape, just as soon as she figured out a way from the infernal contraption she was strapped to.

Black leather straps held her wrists and ankles, not a one of them giving any slack. Deena had been stretched so tight it was difficult to do little more than move her hands, feet and head off the rectangular surface. Her boots were about six inches off the ground, a collection of polished chrome levers and cogs holding the table up from underneath. There was a young woman there too, perhaps a year older than Deena. She was a short girl, around the same height as Emma, and platinum blonde. Deena pretended not to notice her for a moment, even though she stood just a couple of feet in front of the trapped girl, and even though her shapely curvaceous figure could hardly be ignored through the tight white catsuit.

“Oh good, I ordered room service an hour ago.” Deena quipped, finally deigning to make eye contact with the blue-eyed young woman. “About time you showed up.”

The girl smirked, blinked and tossed the black hood off to one corner of the room. “You’re funny. We appreciate a good laugh around here.”

“Yeah? Let me down and I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

“Ohh, I hate to break it to you hun-“ The voluptuous woman took a step toward the slanted table. “-but it’s you who’s going to be laughing.”

Deena craned her neck forward as best she could, looking down on her capturer. “Do your worst, Thumbelina.”

The buxom girl glanced back over her shoulder, toward the mirror, and smirked like she was sharing a private joke with someone. “My name’s Romey.” She said, coming up right close. “What’s yours?”

“Nunya.”

“Sounds exotic.” Romey said as she plucked gently at the bottom of Deena’s shirt. “Where’s that from?”

“Nunya Business.”

The blonde nodded, smiling with that look of someone who’s outwitted and kind of amused at the same time. “I like you. You’re cheeky.” She said, tugging the shirt up just enough to reveal a sliver of Deena’s slender midriff. “Which is why it’s going to be even more fun tickling all that cheekiness out of you.”

“Whatever you say, Smurfette.” Deena leaned her head back, raised her chin and closed her eyes like she was bored. “Wake me when it’s over.”

The securely bound girl could feel her shirt tucked up, just below her bellybutton. One of Romey’s fingers slid across her side, just above the hip, a purposefully gentle touch. Kind of nice, Deena thought, after all the curvy little lady was rather her type and she had no objection to being touched by her. Or, she wouldn’t have objected were they not literally holding her prisoner. Still, Deena remained nonchalant, a sassy attitude and confident demeanor were the only defenses she had left. That and not being the slightest bit ticklish.

“Cootchy coo…” Romey said in a singsong voice, pinching with her thumbs and index fingers along Deena’s beltline.

“A little lower.” The insolent girl said, doing her best to move her hips suggestively. “Like, four or five inches.”

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll get there.” Romey said, persisting with the futile strokes around the bound girl’s sides.

“I can’t wait.”

Deena glanced down, looking for some sign of frustration. Her would-be torturer made a little hum, a sound of thoughtful, mild surprise. She reached up, pinched the outer edges of Deena’s shirt and started raising it higher. A welcome move, as far as she was concerned, this chick could strip her down and touch her all over. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon. Sitting in a lifeless record store on a weekday, for example.

“What do we have here?” The busty girl in white said, like she’d just found something embarrassing in a friend’s closet. All Romey found was Deena’s well-toned tummy, now that her shirt was bunched up around her lower ribcage. “Such a cute little bellybutton…I half expected to find it pierced.”

“I think your brain might be pierced.” Deena said dryly. Not her best effort, but she had just been kidnapped.

“Keep it up.” Romey licked her full lips. She drew one nail lazily around the outer edges of her smart-alecky prisoner’s navel. “Make jokes. Call me names if you like. You’ll regret every word.” She sent her fingertip spiraling deep into Deena’s bellybutton, a surprise attack to hammer home her point.

Without so much as a twitch the raven-haired girl gave an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. The blonde’s finger sped up, wiggling furiously as if it would make the slightest difference. “Alright then.” Romey said, retracting her fingertip and looking Deena up and down. “I’m gonna find your spots.”

“You can find my G-spot.”

“I’m sure I could. But I’m more interested in…hmm…” Romey put one finger to her chin, tapping gently like she was deep in thought. “Right here!” Her hands sprung up and she scribbled all ten fingers into Deena’s cotton covered underarms.

Predictably, nothing of note happened. Using her most condescending scowl, Deena looked down at her hapless fondler, one eyebrow raised as insultingly high as it could go. “You can’t put a TV in here or something, can you?” She said. “Even my dentist has a TV. I never watch it, but getting my teeth cleaned is more interesting that…whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

“Hmph.” The buxom girl pursed her lips. She hung her head, then tilted it to one side like she’d just been struck by a brilliant thought. “Those are nice boots. They looked heavy though…any reason you wear such big boots?”

“Sure.” Deena glanced down at the blonde’s backside. “So I can kick big asses.”

“Alright you-“ Romey began, interrupted by the door clicking open. Deena couldn’t quite make out who was there, in the reflection of the mirror they stood right behind her. Tall, dark hair, not dressed in white. Whoever she was, she spoke with a calm sense of authority.

“Leave us.”

“No wait, just, please-” Romey tripped over her own words, her entire demeanor shifting from confident to defeated to what looked very much like fear in the space of thirty seconds. “-I just need another minute, I can break her.”

“No, you can’t.” The mysterious figure said sternly. “Goodbye.”

Dropping her shoulders, the busty blonde plodded around the slanted rack and out the door. Another click of the door handle and Deena was left with her new host, who strolled slowly around the rack like a cat sizing up a mouse. Not a cat, Deena decided as the Amazonian woman cast her jade-green eyes over the trapped girl, not even something big, like a jaguar. This woman was a dragon. And not so much a woman either, for that matter. Deena had only heard her speak six words but it was clear from her glare alone that Goddess was a far more apt description.

Standing an imposing 6’3” in a pair of spectacular heeled boots, the long legged Japanese woman was clad all in black. Tight leather pants gripped her thick thighs, curving around her shapely butt like she’d been poured into them. A corset pushed her large breasts up making for unmissable cleavage, and her long black hair was tied up in a severely strict bun. Deena loved everything about her, the style, the walk, the general air of otherworldly aura she gave off. More than anything though, it was the goddess’ eyes that caught her captive’s attention. Like they looked right through a person, right into their soul, and knew more about them than they did themselves.

“Not ticklish?” She purred when she finally stopped before the bound girl.

“Sorry.” Deena replied in a way that said she was very much not sorry.

“Mm.” The striking woman gave the tiniest hint of a nod. She held Deena’s eye, hardly seeming to blink. “I have been…tickling people for a very, very long time. I enjoy it. It is, in fact, my greatest pleasure in life. You might not believe it, yet, but I have tickled people to the brink of sanity and some…far beyond.”

Deena thought about making some snappy remark, but it seemed strangely rude to interrupt.

“Some of those people, the ones whose minds could not take it-“ The sultry Amazon continued, speaking with a matter-of-fact calm. “-claimed not to be ticklish. Others, much like you, genuinely believed they weren’t. I’ve found, actually, the torture can be harder on them. People who know they’re sensitive to it, they know their minds will snap before long. But you, you still think it can’t happen. You’re thinking; no one’s ever tickled me before, I’m just not ticklish.”

The bound girl tipped her head, just slightly. Just enough to acknowledge that, yes indeed, the evidence was clear and she was not ticklish. Tough luck, can we all go home now?

“That’s the funny thing about being ticklish.” The tall woman said. “Most people, the vast majority mind you, think of it as some sort of physical affliction. Some like it, most don’t, and no matter which side they fall on, they agree, it’s all to do with how your body reacts.” She paused and narrowed her predatory eyes. “It’s not true. There’s a physical element, of course there is, but the reality is for a lot of people that the degree to which they are ticklish relies heavily on their mental state. Some can switch it off, maybe after they get angry, some even register tickling as pain.”

She reached up and gave Deena’s right temple a tender tap with one finger. “The hypothalamus, you see? Registers pain, fight, flight…and being tickled.”

Deena ignored the little tap and narrowed her own eyes. “I never knew I’d learn so much being kidnapped.”

“You…have walls. You’ve built them up, wonderful mental defenses to protect yourself, from a very early age I’m sure. Your problem now is-” The tall woman slid her fingers down the edges of Deena’s ribs and onto her bare midriff. “-once you’ve accepted the walls are there, once you’re aware of them-“ She brushed her fingertips slowly down the bound girl’s silky skin. “-they become very difficult to maintain. And you, my dear, are already crumbling.”

The hell she was. Deena had never heard such drivel in all her life, afflictions and mental states, walls and hypothal…whatevers. This broad and all her little minions were crazier than a sack full of raccoons.

And yet.

A point more of curiosity than concern, naturally, Deena started to feel the strangest hint of something where the woman’s fingers traced along her porcelain skin. An odd little tingle, maybe, just down her side. Nothing to worry about, she’d had a big day, probably just tired. Plus, Deena could not forget, there was the naughty little duo of orgasms on the hilltop. Likely her body was still feeling a touch sensitive after that sordid business.

“I can see you trying.” The Amazon said softly. “You’re not worried yet, but you should be. The walls are turning to sand before you.” She dragged her long nails just below Deena’s t-shirt, over her abdomen.

“You don’t know the first thing about mehee!” Deena twitched.

She was a devil woman, a succubine seductress playing mind games, there was no other possibility. Taking advantage of the fact Deena had been fighting a mental battle since the girls tackled her at the wall, keeping cool and witty all this time, it wasn’t easy. Easy enough to explain, luckily. If only that happy explanation could stop the nails sliding over her tummy, a tingling sensation that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. Deena’s swallowed hard, her stomach muscles flinching to move away with zero success.

“Okay, okaaay.” The bound girl said, her tummy sucking in without permission. Her body was doing it’s own thing now apparently, and the loosening controls were causing butterflies in Deena’s stomach. “Okay! OHKay!”

“Struggling to rebuild?” The succubus’ talons were starting to spread away from each other, wiggling a little faster. “It’s far too late.”

“No. No. No, it’s not!” Deena danced her bare midriff one way, then the other, found her muscles tensing and eyes growing wider by the second.

“Your walls are dust.”

“No! No they’re nohaht!” A tiny giggle broke her words and the young woman started pulling at her arms instinctively. Suddenly she wanted nothing more in the world than to bring her hands down and cover her belly. “Okay! Okay, I said! Eeehee! Enough!”

Deena had no idea, not a single clue how awful it could be. She’d lay there and watched that busty Latino woman tortured. She’d fantasized about doing the same to Emma. All the while Deena had no frame of reference for how horrible the feeling really was. It was like pleasure, but to an extreme degree, too much, far too much, to the point it was no longer anywhere close to enjoyable. To the point it was worse than pain. At least pain she understood. Now, for the first time, even to this relatively minor degree, the perplexed girl began to understand why some people lived in fear of being tickled.

More giggles were bubbling up from deep within her, infuriatingly difficult to suppress. Deena barked demands, grunted, growled, make any noise that wasn’t a laugh. She tried to sound as threatening as she could, every effort embarrassingly undermined by her girlish squeaks. As she found her tummy was dancing to it’s own spasmodic tune, the wide-eyed girl looked down in unhidden horror as the devilish woman’s other hand was moving toward her.

“No-no! Wait! St-stop!” Deena said, her voice a much higher pitch than intended. The cruel woman’s fingers were wiggling just inches away and the anticipation of having five more long nails scraping over her skin was almost as bad as the tickling itself. “Eeehehe! Don’t! Eiiee! Come on, don’t!”

“Why not?” The wicked witch whispered coyly, then danced all ten talons up and down her captive’s sides.

“Eeeiiieeheehee!” Jerking madly at her limbs, Deena shook with a burst of involuntary laughter. Her self-assured attitude was out the window, this was uncharted territory and she had no compass. Up was down, black was white, the world was on it’s ass. “Eeheehe! Stop! Aheehee! Stop it!”

“Why should I?”

Those ten terrible claws raked over her lower tummy, skidded around her navel and skated across her bottom ribs. Deena enjoyed her pride, she always had. Being the coolest and quickest, the slowest to care, dumping every boyfriend before they could dump her. She wanted to hold to that pride, she wanted to bite back and say something with razor wit, but her mind was a whirlwind of shock, nervousness and terror. And, more than her utter bewilderment, Deena really did not want to be tickled anymore.

“It tickles!” She squeaked, and was dismayed to find the hellish assault did not immediately stop. “Eiiiheehee! Stop now! Aheehee! I told you! Eeeheiiee! Quit it!”

“The question was; why should I stop?” The busty woman said, pinching up and down the blushing girl’s exposed sides. “All you gave me is a reason to continue.”

“Oh fuhahahuuuuck!” Deena threw her head back, mouth wide open in a big dumb grin. Something had to give, any second now she would return to normal. No more ticklishness, not for Deena Tripp, thank you very much. She was strong, stronger than this, she sure as hell wasn’t about to let a silly thing like tickling get the better of her. No way. She’d get her walls back up, stronger than ever. Any second now.

“You really must curb that fowl mouth, young lady.”

“Fuck you!” The bound girl snapped, only for the hardness in her face to be tickled away as quickly as it had arrived. “Aiieeheehee!”

Deena liked to fancy herself the kind of girl who kicked ass when asses needed kicking, and never took shit. Her first week of high school she’d sent that cow Sally Goldsmith hurtling over a railing for trying to trip her. Few people messed with Deena after that little incident and those rare idiots who did quickly regretted it. Even that one guy with the knife, outside the record store late one night, mumbling incoherently, wanting money or sex or both. He turned soprano after Deena’s boot found his crotch. She still had the knife, sitting proudly in the drawer of her bedside table. As the vile woman’s skillful hands lifted the trapped girl’s shirt, somehow managing to prod her tender ribs at the same time, Deena couldn’t understand how it was that her carefully cultivated mean streak was melting away and turning her into a silly, giggling little girl.

“You sick freak!” Deena barked as her shirt was bunched up over the top of her chest, her big milky white boobs and pink nipples slightly visible through her sheer black bra.

The devil woman ran her fingers dancing down the busty girl’s ribs, all the way to her wiggling hips. “Even now, with no escape, you still don’t appreciate the severity of your situation, do you? It’s why I haven’t started asking questions yet.”

“Eeeiihahaha! I won’t tell you shit! Aheeheehee!” The giggling girl said, her squished cleavage jiggling as she struggled.

“I know you believe that.” Said the Amazon. She frolicked her long nails up onto the fleshy sides of Deena’s boobs, causing a fit of sudden shaking and torrent of loud squeals. “You believe because you still have hope. A dangerous thing, the longer you hope…the worse this will be.”

“Yeiieeheehee! Stop!” Deena bucked, finding her words were starting to sound more like pleas than demands, and hating herself for it. “You’re fucked lady! Eeeheeiiieehee! No!”

With a touch light as a feather, lighter maybe, the unfazed lady in leather glided her terrible talons over Deena’s shockingly sensitive skin. Skirting the edges of her bra cups, wiggling up to the bottom of her raised shirt and racing back down to play cruelly across the slender girl’s protruding ribs. Cussing, squealing, gnashing her teeth, pleading, raging, the helpless girl flip-flopped maddeningly between expressions of fury and moronic, unwanted glee. A few frantic minutes into the ordeal and Deena was still reeling with disbelief, that it was happening, that she was ticklish, and most of all that the damn snake-eyed woman just would not stop.

“Stopit! Eeeheehee! Stahap! Please!” She begged without thought, the word just slipping out. One might have thought you’d get used to the sensation, that it would grow duller over the long, agonizing minutes, but to Deena’s horror there was no doubt her sensitivity was getting rapidly worse. “Screw youhoohahaha!” She growled, a desperate attempt to regain some of her lost grit. “Fuck offhahaha! I hate it! Ahaha! I fucking hate iiiiiitahaha!”

“Manners.” The demoness cooed, and Deena could have sworn she hissed the last letter like a snake. Her slender hands moved up, at least a few sharp claws always grazing across the pale girl’s creamy skin. Nimble thumbs hooked under the fuming girl’s shirt and started pulling it up, up her trembling arms, over her chin, nose, eyes.

For the second time that day, Deena couldn’t see. Not much anyway, only parts of the white lettering on her upturned shirt. Light came in from the white ceiling above, and that was about it. The succubus stopped there, leaving the shirt stretched over the bound girl’s face, pulled tight around her biceps. The tickling stopped too and it was then Deena realized how hot she’d become. There was sweat beading on her face, cheeks blushed red, her own hot breath pounding in her ears. Unfortunately, nightmarishly, the flustered girl’s temperature was not the only thing heating up. To her utter bafflement, Deena could feel her libido coming to a simmer.

“I’m going to ask you a question soon.” The Amazon’s voice was as frightening as it was calm, and perplexingly sexy. She slid one fingertip lazily up the side of Deena’s abdomen, causing the girl to flinch sharply.

No witty retort, not this time. Deena was gripped by fear, a different kind of deep worry that she had rarely felt during her life. Strapped to that table, most of her slender torso defenseless, the anxious girl was becoming all too aware how terrifyingly vulnerable she was. Not being able to see put her nerve endings on high alert, twitching and flexing muscles at teasing touches that weren’t there. All of that worry culminated to a spot Deena seldom gave any thought, her very smooth, very taut underarms. Somehow, instinctively, the weary prisoner just knew her silky hollows were painfully, unbearably ticklish.

“Listen.” Deena said, doing her best to sound respectful and despising herself for it. “This…this is a misunderstanding. We-we got lost, is all. We were jus- EIIEE!” She yelped when a long nail caressed along the groove where her breast squished near the bottom of her underarm.

“Lies.” The vicious woman swiped another nail along the top of Deena’s other underarm, making her squawk. “You trespass on my property.” She flickered another nail, elicited another shriek. “You swear in my house.” Another nail, another loud cry. “And now you lie to me.” She wiggled one of her claws quickly near the bottom of Deena’s left hollow.

“YEEIHEEHAHA! NO!” The bound girl thrashed, throwing her head from side to side. It was over in a second, an ominous preview of far worse things. That quick poke from one single finger almost had Deena ready to spill her guts. But she couldn’t, as terrible as more fingers would be, Emma would arrive soon, help in tow. Any second now the door would fly open and they would free Deena from this madness. They had to. They had to or she was going to tell her capturer everything.

“If you’re not careful this interrogation is going to turn into a punishment.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I really am. I-” Deena said pitifully. She was all set to grovel some more when five flittering nails touched down on both of her excruciatingly sensitive underarms. “YEEIIHA! NOHO! NO-OHPLEASE! NAHAHAHAAA!”

Lung-pounding laughter throttled the powerless girl’s body, her arms and legs tugging violently at their bonds. Her heavy boots wiggled, looking for something to push against, her fingers spread and clawed finding nothing but air. Coherent words were hard to come by, loud, involuntary laughter bursting from Deena’s wide-open mouth instead. What few words the cackling girl could manage were pathetic pleas, cries for mercy and shrieking appeals for an end to her hysterical misery. Misery that was making her nipples stiffen, poking lewdly through the sheer material of her bra.

With no previous experience to compare with, Deena had no idea how skilled a tickler this woman was. After thirty of the worst seconds of her life, the berserk girl had to guess her host was likely one of the best there was. Like ten butterflies kissing her taut hollows, the Amazonian woman’s nails flew with such a delicate touch it hardly seemed possible that it could cause any reaction, let alone screaming laughter and ferocious thrashing. Attacked from both sides in the most absurd fashion, Deena couldn’t move away, every fraction of every second a nerve rattling jolt of hyperticklishness.

Agonizing seconds dragged into long, inhumane minutes. Sweat from Deena’s face dampened her tight t-shirt, a light sheet glistening on her convulsing tummy and beading along the sides of her heaving boobs. Under the shirt the formerly unflappable girl’s howling face was turned bright red, rosy cheeks stretched from helpless laughter. The cruel woman’s technique switched sporadically, feathery strokes would end and harsh clawing would begin, pinching would turn to poking and there was never any telling when the changes might come. Every deft movement seemed tailor-made with the express purpose of driving Deena as far out of her mind as possible, and it worked. God almighty how it worked.

When the underarm invasion came to a halt the breathless girl’s hollows were covered in pink lines. A cool waft of air brushed over Deena’s face as her tormentor hiked the shirt up to her elbows, relief that was crushingly outweighed by the rest of her perplexing and horrifying predicament. Tickling cult or perverted millionaire, whatever was going on really did not matter anymore, all Deena knew was that she couldn’t stand to be tickled another moment. Thinking back to the buxom Latina, Deena felt a sharp pang of guilt at the pleasure she’d given herself over that woman’s suffering. She felt an even sharper pang of terror at the thought she was very likely about to go through a similar, unendurable experience.

“Emma!” Deena gasped. “Emma Clark! She-she works for a newspaper or something, she’s investigating you!” Words poured out of her as quickly as her panting lungs would allow, mind searching frantically for every bit of halfway relevant information her tickle-addled mind could recall. “We-she! She snuck into Mr. Lucas’ house!”

“Please.” A long finger pressed firmly against the newly loquacious girl’s lips. “We are well aware of Miss Clark’s snooping.”

“Please-please!” Deena couldn’t believe how quickly she’d broken. The normally stubborn girl didn’t imagine she would break at all, but that was when she didn’t know how terrible being tickled could be. Now, terrifyingly aware of being so powerlessly sensitive, she’d have done anything to not go through a single second ever again. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

“I’m sure you will.” The tall woman said. She reached behind herself, to a back pocket Deena had not noticed, and retrieved a small knife. As she unfolded the blade, the flustered girl froze, watching the razor sharp tip with every ounce of her focus. With a precision even the most sought after of surgeons would have been proud to have, the leather-clad lady slashed one of Deena’s shoulder straps, then the other in quick succession.

“Ah!” Deena gasped when her bra popped down, the cups pushed away by her bulbous breasts bouncing into full view. Only the back-strap remained of the half naked girl’s broken bra, the tension propping her bare boobs up from underneath. Her erect nipples out in the open, Deena’s sense of vulnerability sunk far deeper than she’d thought possible. Initially confident, even cocky, the brash girl felt as if she was in a swimming pool one moment only to realize it was actually the Pacific Ocean. No land in sight, no boat, alone with nothing but the mercy of the gods.

One of the she-devil’s long nails slid gently on the outer sides of her prisoner’s ribs. “What’s your name?”

“De-Deehee-Deenha!” She squirmed. “Deena Tripp!”

“Miss Tripp.” The long legged woman said with all the stern nature of a strict schoolmarm. She continued to drag her single long nail in winding paths around the topless girl’s ribcage. “What is you involvement with Miss Clark?”

“N-nothing!” Deena’s voice came out at a much higher pitch than usual, every word having to beat back a bubbling wave of humiliating giggles. “She-sheehee! She was asking abhowahaha! About Jason! Nff!” Pursing her lips, the bosomy girls boobs shook as she struggled to suppress the infuriating laughter.

“Jason?”

“Whitmore! He-heehee! He tried to t-t-“

The cruel woman poked her wiggling finger into the soft spot between two of Deena’s ribs. “Tickle you?”

“YEHES! Yes!” She shrieked. “I just came along! That’s all!”

“To Mr. Lucas’ home?” That maddening single digit, the bane of Deena’s existence, drew slowly along under her bra strap, just below her bobbing boobs.

“Yes! Eeiiheehee! She snuck in!” The long nail explored her other side, sliding over each rib with delicate menace. “There was nothing so-so-weheeheehee! We followed the car! I’m sorreehee! I was just tagging along!”

“Were you now?” The Amazon said, moving her talon dangerously close to the bottom of Deena’s underarm. The captive girl craned her neck, watching wide-eyed at the finger wiggling just below her taut hollow. “And how much does your new friend Miss Clark know about us, exactly?”

“Nothingpleasedon’t!” Deena said in a husky rush. “Only about Mr. Lucas! He teeheeohnoplease! Pleaseplease!”

“Focus…Mr. Lucas?”

“He tickles people! A-and the girls, the girls whihaihaite! But there’s nothing! No connection! I swear!”

“I see.” The seductress slid her hand away from Deena’s underarm and over to her breast. She bought her other hand up, fingertips honing in on the fitful girl’s rigid nipples.

“Mmmfff!” Sucking her lips back, Deena rolled her head and moaned as the evil woman massaged her puffed up nipples.

“Good girl.”

Gyrating her hips lewdly, Deena moaned again. Ever the rebel, she had spent most of her life cultivating a bad girl image. Being told she was a good girl, in that commandingly sultry voice no less, made her barely dried panties damp all over again. Suddenly she had the overwhelming urge to do obey, to submit completely and do anything to please her striking new mistress. It wasn’t just the ever-present threat of more horrendous tickling that had Deena turning to jelly, everything about that sensuously intimidating woman demanded respect. Demanded honesty. Admiration. Obedience. Demanded…awe.

“Enjoying yourself?” The wondrous witch said softly, pressing up closer to the writhing girl.

“Y-yes…ohh fffuck yes…” Deena felt a rush of lustful warmth as the woman’s hot breath caressed the nape of her neck.

One open palm slid down the topless girl’s side, a firm touch, while the other continued to nimbly fondle her nipple. With her eyes closed pushed to grind herself onto something, anything. She lost track of the hand that had gone down her side, hoping desperately that its next stop would be her belt buckle. Instead, there was a small click from under the raised table. Glancing down, Deena could see her mistress’ hand reaching behind the tabletop. A soft whirring noise, mechanical and smooth like well-greased gears started, and as it did the entire table began to shift.

Both the Amazon’s hands moved up, slipping over Deena’s arms, all the way to her hands where their fingers intertwined. They were eye-to-eye, almost close enough to kiss. The bound girl moaned softly as her whole body, the whole table, tipped backward with her interrogator turned lover along for the ride. As they moved lower, becoming more horizontal by the moment, Deena could feel the commanding woman’s weight atop her. Thick thighs straddled her grinding hips, and when the table finally stopped Deena was almost parallel to the ground.

Kneeling, the gracious host released her captive’s hands. Deena tried to hold on, tried to keep the embrace, but her lover sat up, looming over her stretched naked torso. “Now then…” The captivating woman said, hovering both hands in the air she started to wiggle all ten of her long, devastating nails. “…I have more questions.” From lover to torturer, in little more than a second.

“….no.” Deena squeaked, barely any sound to her voice as her eyes locked trembling on the poised talons. “No. God-no! Please! I said-I said I’d tell you anything!”

“You did.” The claws started to lower, scratching slowly at the air. “And you’ve been so good.”

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you anything! You don’t have to-“ Trying to sink back into the table, the shamefully seduced girl cowered. Her skin prickled with nervous goosebumps. She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words. “You don’t have to-to…”

“To what?”

As Deena spoke the words she knew, beyond the point of no-return, that in her panic she’d fallen headlong into the mistress’ trap. “Tickle me.”

“As you wish.” And the sharp nails went flying across the girl’s trapped torso.

Lulled into a false sense of security, Deena’s nerves were wide open with anticipation for further pleasure. Standing to attention, ready and willing. Her heightened state of arousal lowered every defense as she prepared to feel whatever carnal delight came her way. What came instead was an onslaught of scrawling fingernails running rampant over her unprepared flesh.

“YAAAHEEHEE! NOHOHAHA!” Deena howled as her ribs were viciously clawed. She bucked and twisted, screaming pained laughter at the savage assault. Gone were the feathery strokes that had driven her so mad, this new attack was brutally unrestrained.

As her body heaved, stomach muscles tensed, arms pulled violently to nowhere, the poor girl could hardly breath. Veins swelled in her bright red forehead, tendons strung up the front of her neck. Deena’s hands flapped wildly, not reaching for anything, instead just flailing uselessly with no greater purpose. Fingertips drilled deep in between her soft ribs, animal-like screeching tearing from her gaping, grinning mouth. Half coherent words were shrieked out, lost among her helpless cackling, her lungs forcing in gasping breaths before screaming anew.

On it went, merciless, relentless, the berserk girl could never have prepared herself for such excruciating torment. Deena’s mind was crashing, tumbling, a hurricane of frantic thoughts, each one smashed to pieces as soon as it took shape. While her mind reeled and her body thrashed, the frenzied girl’s libido was doing the absolute opposite of what she wanted it to. Her big pink areoles were swollen, stiff nipples pointing toward the ceiling like beacons of delight. Between Deena’s thighs her panties soaked, her pussy pulsing impatiently for attention. Every second was agony and every second turned the crazed young woman on more. The more Deena’s lust spiked the more sensitive she became, and the greater her anguish along with it.

“Ohh this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Her tormentor teased, spidering her long nails along the undersides of the wheezing girl’s milky white boobs. “Don’t look so upset! Here, you like it when I touched these didn’t you?”

Those ten terrible talons crawled up and sped gleefully across Deena’s swollen nipples, like naked witches dancing around unholy fire. The effect was nothing like her previous pleasure, instead the light strokes caused her to jerk harshly at her bonds and squeal like a lunatic possessed. An hour ago the cocksure girl did not even consider herself the slightest bit ticklish, now being tickled was tearing high-pitched cries from her that barely sounded human. One moment you think you’re one way, then you find out you’re another –it might have been an interesting thing to ponder during a lazy afternoon at the record store. Deena never thought she would miss lazy afternoons at the record store. How things change.

If the over stimulated girl had been a robot her bolts would surely have flown off, steam hissing from the holes at great speed. Deena felt like she was fit to explode and wipe out everything for miles around. Her pussy throbbed, soaked in hot lust. Her heart pounded like it wanted free of her chest. The spasming captive’s nipples had become so tender another few moments of hellish tickling were sure to make her climax for the third time that day. Then, as if the jade-eyed Amazon was reading Deena’s fractured thoughts, those pitiless nails moved away from shrieking girl’s areoles and scribbled down her sides.

“AAAHAHAHA! PLEAHEESE!” Deena managed to shriek as her tormentor’s claws ran wild over her supple midriff. “NO MORE! NO MORHORHORAAHAHA!”

“Oh don’t worry.” While one hand raced up and down the helpless girl’s right side, the other danced five fingers in a menacing circle surrounding her navel. “There’s always more.”

There was that dread feeling again, instinct or intuition, a knowing sense that some parts of her were cripplingly more ticklish than others. That dopey blonde girl had already tried it, shoving her finger into Deena’s belly button, but that was back when she was bulletproof. Tickleproof. Now, whatever it was that had kept her immune to such torment gone, the fuming girl knew nothing should touch her navel. No good would come of something wriggling around in there, yet despite Deena’s shrill cries for mercy the seductress’ relentless nails edged a tiny bit closer with every speedy stroke.

Bunching together around the precipice, as if all trying to dig in at once, the cruel older woman’s talons fought to be the first one into Deena’s belly button, like hyenas scraping over prey. Of course the only causality of such a conflict was the half naked girl, wailing with frenzied laughter as the tip of each nail skirted around her undoubtedly hyperticklish navel. One slipped in, no way of telling which finger, and the raving girl let out a crazed yelp. That victorious digit was pushed out, another sliding in and causing Deena to yelp again, a yowling cry like her soul had been shocked. Her helpless laughter would return, another nail would graze quickly along the inside of her belly button and the maddened girl would make that same sound each and every time.

A frighteningly perceptive smirk drew across the tall woman’s lips. She lifted her hands and caught Deena’s eye, the poor girl looking like the definition of misery as she gasped for air. One hand rose above the topless captive, and her cruel host started wiggling one single index finger with malicious intent. Breathless and failing to comprehend how she could possibly suffer through another second of tickling, Deena watched wide-eyed as that sinister digit hovered a little less than a foot above her unprotected navel. Eyes fixed on the wiggling nail as it began to lower, the besieged girl struggled to find her voice. Shaking her head every so slightly, all Deena could do was mouth the word ‘No’ over and over without sound, craning her neck more and more as she followed the fingers ruinous path downward.

Staring horrified over her engorged nipples, the wheezing prisoner could do nothing as she watched the woman’s devilish digit come within an inch of her glistening tummy. Sucking her stomach in, Deena braced herself, long hair matting to her sweat soaked forehead and reddened cheeks. Half an inch away and she could no longer mouth the words, her lips pulled back. Even if her petrified state could have allowed her to beg it would have been pointless. When that sharp nail dipped below the horizon of her navel, a gormless expression of mindless fear crossed Deena’s face.

Deena shook like she was taking ten thousand volts, her body doing everything it could to expel the unwanted invader. Most of her body, that was, except her unruly libido which was hungrily soaking up every torturous touch. Deep within her belly button, right at the critically sensitive center, the Amazon’s wiggling talon worked back and forth, swirling and flickering around and brushing against the hopelessly ticklish sides. Wordless banshee laughter shrieked out of the bewildered girl as her arousal grew from a five-alarm-fire to an untamable forest inferno. An inferno started by lightening, and the mysterious woman atop her was the goddess wielding every thunderous bolt.

Deena was so caught up in the storm, amazed that she was continuing to survive the experience, that she had no idea what her tormentor’s other hand was doing. In those long, awful, horrifically ticklish moments, the hysterical girl forgot hands were for anything else besides tickling. What the Amazon’s free hand was up to, in fact, was nimbly unbuckling Deena’s belt. While the delirious girl’s navel was vigorously explored, her tormentor slyly popped open the button of Deena’s jeans, plucked the zip between two fingers and opened the world to her soaked-through panties. At what point during the ravaging of her belly button that all happened exactly, she had no idea. When it was over, when it was finally, finally over, Deena stared dead-eyed at the ceiling, gasping like a fish out of water.

“Still enjoying yourself, I see.” Two fingertips brushed firmly up and over the front of the stunned girl’s damp panties. She shuddered, groaning weakly through her heavy breaths. “Who else knows about Miss Clark’s investigation?”

No answer. Deena had barely heard the words over her own pounding heart and loud, desperate panting. There was no question on Earth she could have answered at that moment, not in that state. Her own birthday, her own name, the half naked girl’s mind was demolished. Slowly but surely her breathing slowed from rapid heaving to sharp, short gasps and as it did somewhat coherent thoughts started to piece together. Deena. Yes, Deena, that sounded right. Deena who is tough. A real toughie. A real ticklish toughie. No, wait, not ticklish. Deena isn’t ticklish. No more tickling. Please god no more. Wait, where are my pants?

Feeling air against her long smooth legs, Deena stared down reluctantly, not entirely sure she wanted to see. If she didn’t look, maybe it wasn’t happening. What she saw was the woman in black standing down by her ankles, pocketknife in hand, and slicing the last of the bound girl’s jeans apart. With a final ripping sound, the tall tormentor tossed the shreds of what had been Deena’s pants aside. She folded the knife back up, slipped into the back pocket of her tight leather pants and left the red-faced girl in nothing but her boots and panties.

“Well?” The smirking torturer dragged one nail up the length of her prisoner’s right leg as she strolled toward her upperbody. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t….I don’t…I didn’t…” Deena stammered, twitching feverishly as the wandering claw made its way over her knee. “I didn’t hear….”

“You weren’t paying attention? How rude.” The nail meandered along the quivering girl’s sensitive thigh, drifting slowly down between her legs. “Another thing I’ll have to see you punished for.”

“I’m soheehee…I’m sorreeheehee!”

“Last chance.” Said the seductress, gliding her nail along the outside of the giggly girl’s panties, her body bucking and leg muscles tensing wildly. “Answer me.”

If her mind were made of papers, the answer on one single sheet out of thousands, Deena searched while an enormous fan blew her memories in every direction. Maybe, just maybe, if that maddening claw hadn’t been sliding over her waistline the fitful girl might have remembered the question. Might have come up with an answer, whether she knew it or not. Alas, Deena found in the moment she was as successful at finding anything useful as she was at trying to hold back her laughter.

“Nohohoho! Nohohoplease!” She watched as the knife came out again. Deena wasn’t even being tickled, the anticipation alone enough to make helpless giggles bubble up.

Pinching one side of the black cotton hem, the merciless woman pulled the waistband off Deena’s squirming hips. A swift flick of her wrist cut the hem into two stringy pieces. She did the same again with the other side, then tugged the ruined panties out from under her captive’s well toned, and now very bare ass. At least her ass was pressed against the tabletop, for the most part, Deena’s soaking bare pussy however, was completely exposed. The knife went away and the smirking woman placed the damp panties on the table beside her quivering victim. Deena didn’t have to see in order to know, stretched as she was with legs spread, her erect clit was protruding out from its hood like a signal alerting folk for miles around of her uncontrollable arousal.

Her eyes fixed on every tiny move the cruel woman made, Deena was certain she would be relentlessly tickled again at any second. Standing beside the bound girl, the Amazon’s left hand motioned forward causing her weary pet to jerk sharply away. To her brief relief, the hand did not come towards her, instead reaching underneath the tabletop. When that demonic hand came back, in no particular rush, it was holding a long, stiff red feather, the quill perfectly poised between thumb and index finger.

“If I use this…” The devil woman cooed, waving the feather tip in slow circles just inches above Deena’s writhing tummy. “…you’d cum, wouldn’t you?”

Yes. “…no…” Deena squeaked out the lie. “…no…” Absolutely, yes. “…no…” She had almost climaxed from the sight of the feather. Almost cum herself silly, so much so she couldn’t understand what it was keeping her from orgasm. The bewilderingly aroused girl was riding the edge of ecstasy so close she felt like Wile. E. Coyote standing in mid air and waiting for gravity to kick in. Of course the sight of the feather was one thing, having it skirting across her hyperticklish skin was an outlandishly nightmarish prospect. And cumming while being tickled, well, that was an idea so abhorrent Deena did everything she could to push it from her mind.

“Hm.” Her tormentor gave a disbelieving scoff. She placed the feather down right beside the ruined panties and waved her hand over both items like a picky mechanic looking for the right tool. “If you won’t answer my question, you may as well keep silent.” She snatched up the soaked panties and shoved them toward Deena’s mouth.

“Ngh!” Deena balked, turning her head and tightening her lips. The wet cotton was pressing hard against the struggling girl, she wouldn’t open her mouth, not for that, never for that. The busty woman’s free hand pinched at Deena’s side and she opened her mouth. “YAHA! EE-MFF! MNF! MMMFF!” Whipping her head this way and that, muffled protests were all the gagged girl could manage as the woman’s hand cupped over her mouth. At the same time that damned free hand was up to more mischief, reaching under the table and pulling out a roll of silver duct tape. With a quick snap of her teeth that made it look like she’d done it many times before, the evil mistress tore off a piece of duct table. Deena tried to throw her head in any direction, but the older woman was too quick. The tape clamped over her lips, sealing tight, and left the almost entirely naked girl a mumbling mess.

“It’s so rare…” One nail dragged slowly along the tabletop as the coy woman strolled down toward the foot of the table. She looked back over her shoulder as she talked, making sure the gagged girl could see her smirk. “…to share in the discovery of one’s body. Normally when I tickle someone they’re already quite familiar with their most sensitive spots.” That long claw slid up onto Deena’s lower leg and she winced sharply. “Oh there’s always the odd surprise or two, the less…traditional areas people don’t think of. It’s different with you though, isn’t it?” She scrapped her nails gently across the top of her captive’s thick black sock, working away around the corner of the table. “With you we can discover everything together, at the same time.”

Those nightmarishly nimble fingers quickly unbound Deena’s tightly tied laces on her right boot. A double-tied bow too, surely there should have been a little effort involved in getting it loose, but no. Swift and skillful as everything she did, the tall woman easily loosened the laces. Deena thought back to Jason Whitmore, years before, fumbling with her feet, doing his best to tickle. She’d been lucky then, she saw that now. She’d been lucky many times, the trembling girl suspected, who knew how often horny boys had tried to tickle her without her noticing. Casual pokes from friends, a cheeky pinch from some flirtatious girl, not once did Deena so much as smile. There had to be a way, whatever spell this witch had put her under, there had to be a way to go back.

Sliding the boot off slowly with both hands, the buxom torturer was undeterred by the stripped girl’s useless wiggling. She held the heavy steel-toed boot up, laces dangling either side, and gave it a discerning glare. “Do you wear these all the time? I’m all for solid footwear-“ One of the long heels from her own leather boots clicked loudly against the floor to illustrate the point. “-but you might like to consider sandals once in a while.” She tossed the boot backward over one shoulder and was already working the laces of Deena’s left foot before it clunked noisily somewhere off near the wall.

Slumping her head back, neck tired from staring down the length of her pinkened, sweaty body, Deena whimpered as her left boot joined its partner on the floor. Left in only her socks, the defeated girl had not thought she could possibly have felt more vulnerable after being stripped of her panties, yet there was something so crushingly final about losing one’s footwear. Perhaps it was that the ability to run away became much more difficult, not that fleeing had been an option for some time. Maybe it was simply that Deena did in fact wear her boots everywhere, much to her mother’s dismay. Either way she always felt a great sense of comfort with them on, and now with them gone the poor girl was starting to understand she truly had no idea how helpless she could become.

“You must let your feet breath, dear.” The merciless mistress pinched the back of one sock, right behind the bound girl’s Achilles tendon, and started pulling it down over her heel. “Of course wearing these all day must keep your skin oh so soft.”

For the first time ever Deena found herself wishing she’d never worn boots. Never worn shoes or socks or anything, she wished her entire life had been spent stomping around on concrete with rough bare feet, tough as stone. Alas, her tormentor was right, under those thick black socks were tissue-soft soles and heels so tender they made kitten fur feel like tree bark by comparison. Deena wondered then, strapped and gagged as her sock was painstakingly peeled away, if the precious feel of her feet was why Jason Whitmore had spent so much time with them. Even after he realized she was not the least bit ticklish Jason had played with her slender toes and stroked her silky arches. It made sense, Deena supposed as her breath quickened with the dread thought, that a person who enjoyed tickling people was likely to enjoy pretty feet as well.

“My my.” The sock was tossed away and the expression that spread across the demon woman’s sharp features made it look like she was admiring a decadent desert. “You’ve been depriving the world of such beauty.” She started the same agonizingly slow process of sliding Deena’s other sock, her one last piece of clothing, off and over her ankle. “I’m not complaining, of course. I am a vehemently selfish woman and am more than happy to have these all to myself.”

Deena might have laughed, a real voluntary laugh of amusement, if she hadn’t been so terrified. Stark naked, bound, gagged by her own ruined panties and now frozen with the fear of having her feet touched. Her, Deena Tripp, afraid of anything, the idea was absurd. Afraid of being tickled, absolutely laughable. All too laughable, it turned out, and she knew it. Knew it just like she had with her underarms and just like she had with her belly button. The fear crept up her spine and spread through her chest, curled down into her belly and turned the nude girl’s legs to jelly. Not having the power to speak, to have no agency, no options, completely and utterly powerless, that alone was maddening. Deena could feel her lust on the table top, slippery under the bottom of her ass cheeks.

“My new…pets.” The voluptuous vixen tapped a finger every-so-gently onto the tip of the quaking girl’s big toe.

“Mnh!” Deena jerked violently against her leather bonds. She strained, closed her eyes, tried to put every bit of focus on rebuilding her once beautiful wall of mental protection. Her wall that had been so easily and mortifyingly razed. Determined to rebuild, motivated by torment, Deena would use stronger materials this time, she would build it twice as high –no- ten times as high and ten times as thick. Not now though, not in that moment, because every ounce of focus the distracted girl put forward was quickly dragged away by her unruly libido. Whatever miniscule success Deena might have achieved was dashed regardless, as a single taunting talon swept across her right heel. “MMMNN-HHN!” She shook, spreading her toes wide.

“What are you going to do, hm?” Wiggling five fingers so her captive was sure to see, the tall woman grinned as if teasing a small child. “Are you going to laugh?”

“Mmff! Mhmf!” The muffled girl pleaded uselessly, not a single word forming through the bunched up panties and firmly stuck duct tape. As she wiggled her feet and curled her toes, the older woman’s devilish claws continued to scratch at the air.

“I’m going to tickle your feet…”

“Hmnn! Hnhnff!”

“From top-“ She used her other hand to tap one nail at the underside of Deena’s toes, causing her to buck and squeal. “-to bottom” Another tap, this time at the heel, and the captive girl fought even harder. “And all over…”

‘No! Please!’ Is what Deena tried to say in a horribly stressed tone, except it came out more like ‘Nff! Ffffhh!”

“…And I’m not going to stop.”

“Mmnn! Mmmn!”

“And there’s nothing-“ The sinister woman flickered one finger across the creamy balls of Deena’s right foot and got a suppressed shriek in response. “-not a single thing-“ She sent that same finger down the spasming girl’s arch. “-you can do about it.”

Come on Emma, come on, where are you? How long did it take to find help? Deena swore when she got out of there she’d tickle Emma silly, even if she did show up, just for making her wait so long. Or maybe she wouldn’t, now that the buck naked girl knew how excruciating tickling could be. The loss of all control over one’s own body, the humiliation from being overpowered by such a deceptively simple act. Another finger grazed along one tender heel and Deena yelped, thinking she was likely a strong candidate for the lunatic asylum. Perhaps if she had been eased into it, perhaps if the slender girl had grown up being tickled, or had any experience with it at all, the situation would not be so bad. Naked, restrained, gagged and at the hands of some sort of tickling-sadist, there couldn’t have been a harder way to learn the lesson.

“What do think, my pet?” The diabolical woman raked five nails up from Deena’s left heel, all the way to the undersides of her desperately curling toes, the incapacitated girl erupting into a ticklish seizure. “Should I start with one?” She dragged her nails back down the entire length of the frothing girl’s vulnerable sole. “Or do both at once?” Both feet got the same savage treatment, five claws dragging slowly over the crazed girl’s pink heels, across her hopelessly soft arches and onto the desperately wrinkling balls.

“NNNHHHNHN! MMFFFH! MMFFHH!” Deena fumed as the ten talons meandered back down over the bottoms of her helplessly wiggling bare feet.

“Oh yes, both I think.”

Caught in such a blind panic she couldn’t even concoct words to be muffled, Deena made a series of desperate whines instead. Inevitable as it was, nothing to be done and no way to stop it, the hypersensitive girl still could not help maintain some sliver of hope that her feet would not be touched again. Human nature maybe, to always hold out some spark until fate determined otherwise. Deena wasn’t a big believer in fate, and if it did exist it was fair to say in that moment she fucking hated it. She tried to listen over her hard breaths and pounding heart, wishing for the sound of rushed footsteps, yelling, the door bursting in. Where the raucous chaos of rescue should have been, muffled squealing came in its place as fingers fluttered across Deena’s flawless arches.

“MMFFFF! MMHHFF!” Rocked into an instant frenzy, the shrieking girl’s head rolled backward and her back arched as much as it could. Eyes wide and toes spread, the poor girl screamed laughter into her gag as the witch’s speedy talons scribbled up and down her uselessly wiggling and unbearably ticklish feet.

“What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” The Amazon teased, dancing her long nails across the bottoms of her captive’s toes and down her insteps. “A sudden urge to answer my question, perhaps?” Her fiendish fingers skittered across the tops of Deena’s slender feet, the thin skin shockingly no less sensitive than her soles. “Not to worry yourself, I’m in no rush.”

Her whole body was one raw nerve, the hysterical girl flailing violently within the constraints of her infuriatingly firm bonds. Somewhere in the chaotic furor of her mind Deena repeatedly howled the question; why haven’t I cum yet? Impossibly, maddeningly, the crazed girl was riding along the razor’s edge of climax and becoming bewilderingly more aroused with every devastating finger stroke, all without the relief of release. A relief Deena found she now feared, the torrent of new and hellish experience reminding her that there was no telling how her body might respond to a tickling-induced orgasm. That, and being tickled while cumming just seemed like an all around traumatic idea.

Minutes wore on, every second a tense torment as Deena’s libido threatened to send her screaming into the unknown. In her fervor she showed no signs of losing energy, a constant explosion of mindless, muffled laughter and insane struggling as her feet were relentlessly toyed with. The torturer, merciless that she was, showed no indication of slowing either. Dancing nails flew up and down Deena’s bare soles, dug under her toes and tapped playfully down the outer sides. Playful for the fingers and their devilish wielder, a long way off from anything remotely fun for the wailing nude girl.

Deena didn’t know what would kill her first, the tickling or her own perpetual lust. Either way the raving girl was far beyond the limit of what she thought capable. Long black hair stuck to her face and neck, matted to her shoulders and big bouncing tits, her whole shaking body slick with hot sweat. Her hips gyrated furiously, drenched pussy craving for something, anything to slide inside. Deena fought the urge to cum as much as she longed for it, the memory of Mr. Lucas’ huge erect cock making her lean toward the later. She wouldn’t need much, heaven help her, just a stroke of a finger along her slick lips would do, anything to get the ravenous girl over the edge. As long as it didn’t tickle.

“How are we doing?” The tall woman grinned, her tone one of mock-sympathy. She stopped, hovering her hands just above the wheezing girl’s wiggling toes. “Ready to talk now?”

“Mmm! Mmm!” Deena swallowed hard and started to nod frantically, brows furrowed to a miserable point. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in much needed air, perplexed as to how she hadn’t passed out from sheer exhaustion.

“Not yet?” The Amazon made a playfully disappointed face.

“MMM!” The poor girl nodded faster, tugging helpless at the straps around her wrists.

“Have it your way.”

“NNNNGGGH!” Nails frolicked back over her soles and Deena howled, crushed by the unfairness of it all as she turned from pitiful to deranged in one hyperticklish instant.

Against the tabletop Deena’s shapely ass flexed, large dimples forming in the milky white sides of her cheeks as she bounced up and down. Fingertips delved between her toes, the slender girl’s abdomen working overtime to handle her hysterics. Where the nude girl’s silky soles had been white they now turned a light hue of pink, and where her feet had been pink they now turned red. Pinker still was Deena’s swollen clit and engorged nipples, but nowhere had she turned a darker shade than her anguished face.

The laughter was all consuming, endless and exhausting, if just for one moment she could hold back, just for single second stop cackling maybe, maybe the poor girl could have fought to gain some small measure of composure. Of control. She couldn’t though, Deena knew she couldn’t, not even for the briefest pinch of time. The laughter kept coming, forceful and strained, no chance of stopping as long as the tickling continued. On it went, on and on, and on.

“My goodness.” The mysterious demoness said, fanning her face with one hand. “You’ll have me working up a sweat soon.”

For almost a full thirty seconds after the relentless foot attack stopped Deena continued to shake. Her breaths were short and shallow, chest shifting up and down quickly as the overwhelmed girl pumped air. With a blank stare she looked up at the ceiling, eyes focused on nothing. When Deena did stop shaking, the muscles in her arms and legs continued to quiver from overuse. She’d not done so much physical activity in years, if ever, and then it was only gym class, which she usually skipped. In her severely rattled state the almost catatonic girl did not notice the tall woman strolling up to the tableside.

“Feeling a little more cooperative now, are we?” Pinching one corner of the duct tape, the pitiless woman slowly peeled it back from Deena’s lips.

With a little cough, the nude girl’s eyes rolled down as she dragged herself back to reality. She watched on, gasping and moaning as her tormentor plucked the destroyed panties out, tossing them and the used tape aside. Deena might have been relieved to have the power of her voice back if she thought it might do any good. As it was in that moment the frazzled girl was so shattered even saying her own name would have been a spectacular effort.

“Who else knows about Miss Clark’s investigation?”

“I d…I don…I don’t…” Was all Deena could muster, her voice barely a squeak.

“Come now…” The Amazon grinned. She picked up the long red feather and dangled it in the air. “You’ve been so good. Don’t spoil it…”

Being terrified of a feather might have been shocking an hour before but Deena was not at all surprised when her stomach twisted up and her heart sank. That pang of fear gave the bound girl a sudden shot of clarity, the only problem was she hardly had much to tell. “Me…me and….and Wendy Starr.”

“Yes, we’re aware of that.” The vicious vixen bought the feather up, holding it with more purpose. “Who else?”

“N-no one! I don’t know!”

“Which is it?”

“W-what?”

“No one else knows or you don’t know who else knows?”

The feather started to lower toward Deena’s hips, every fragile frond of it a menacing threat. “I-I don’t know! I swear! Please!”

“I believe you.” The domineering woman held the feather tip less than an inch from her captive’s bare skin, moving it slowly down between her trembling thighs. “I’m going to use this on your clitoris now.”

“No-o…” Deena whimpered, her voice only breath. She almost sobbed, unable to imagine anything touching her clit in it’s hypersensitive state. At worst she had imagined the feather swirling into her belly button, or stroking freely over her slender midriff. A few seconds of feeling those red fronds brushing anywhere were sure to send Deena careening into orgasm, but just the thought of it being anywhere near her clit made her knees weak. A hot wave went up her neck, her spine tingled and she winced, her trapped body already letting lust spill through the gates.

“I don’t want you to orgasm.”

“N-no…” Gritting her teeth the poor girl started to writhe, her thighs and abdomen tensing. She tried to think of anything, terrible thoughts, boring thoughts, anything that would bring her back from the brink. Thoughts of long nails and pinching fingers swam into Deena’s mind instead, of feathers and nudity and not being able to do a damn thing about any of it.

“Do you understand? You are not allowed to cum.”

“Pl-please…I cannn’t…” The squirming girl strained, her toes curling as she struggled to fight back the ever worsening orgasm. “Nnnot like that!”

“If you cum without my permission I’ll have you tickled out of your mind.” The feather was down between the bound girl’s thighs, her pussy throbbing a hair’s breadth from the feather’s edge.

“I don’t…please…I don’t want to cum…not…not from tickling…” She stared down her tensing body, over her swollen nipples and tightened abdomen. Deena’s loins tingled madly, her face bright red and the whites of her eyes entirely visible all the way around.

“You’ll do as your told then.” The older woman said, like she was satisfied to hear all was in order. Before the cringing girl could reply, the Amazon stroked the full length of her feather up along the tip of her captive’s clit.

“AAAAAIIIIEEEE!” Deena let loose a piercing scream, and came immediately. Thick lust squirted across the tabletop, between her long legs, body convulsing violently as she seized with orgasmic release. Primal ecstasy spread through her, every tiny frond tickling across her engorged clit with excruciating sensitivity. When the feather had sawed high enough, the very point flickered across the howling girl’s bare pussy. Her uncontrollable climax skyrocketed into realms of pleasure and torment that seemed unnatural, like something from another world. “YEEEEIIIAA! AAAHEE! OHOH! AAHAHA!”

Maniacal laughter roared from the thrashing girl, loud panicked moans sending her eyes wide before clenching shut again. It shouldn’t have been possible, Deena had never cum so hard in her life. She didn’t think her body was capable of such orgasmic magnitude, didn’t think anyone’s was. Coming harder with every flick of the feather, her unwieldy body denied the frenzied girl’s every wish as it became increasingly hyperticklish. One orgasm rampaged into another and into another, each wild climax so close together the disoriented girl had no idea where one ended and the next began.

Descended into hysterical lunacy, and all it took was some gentle flicking of the wrist. Standing over the deranged girl, the tall woman wore her wry smirk. One hand down by her side, the other holding the feather as she expertly ran the tip up and down, around and around, every which way over Deena’s rigid clit. She didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, the poor girl was a mindless creature of extreme ticklishness. The table was soaked, the squealing girl’s shaking inner thighs were drenched. Every muscled tingled and swelled and ached, all at once. Her eyes didn’t know whether to burst open wide or hold tightly closed, more than once she did both, one eye open as she howled with unbearable laughter.

Demoness, goddess, succubus, witch, it didn’t matter what the seductive torturer was in the end. Where once had been rebellion was only submissiveness, where once had been cuss words and stubbornness was wailing laughter. The girl in the bonds, covered in her own hot juices and sweat, was no more. Only a creature remained, a long suffering thing that existed to be tickled, teased and humiliated. Everything she did was in hell, every shriek and mind-cracking orgasm in service to her queen. The Queen of Hell.

Eventually, jaw aching and lungs burning, Deena’s raving laughter and forced, delirious cries of passion started to fade. Her laughter turned from riotous to repetitive and breathy, as if her mind could not longer function well enough to form variety in her hysteria. Muscles worn and tender, the defeated girl twitched and jerked randomly, hips constantly shifting in a never-ending effort to avoid the unavoidable feather. How long she lay like that was impossible to say, but the tip of the feather never once left her clit, not even for a second.

When Deena’s laughter no longer sounded like laughter little else but her hips continued to move. Hoarse sighs of a sort bubbled from the tortured girl’s quivering lips, her head rolled back and an emotionless stare fixed on the door. Nothing much but unending ticklish agony went through her mind, but her fixation on the door might have signaled something deep inside. Maybe something that wasn’t even there anymore, like muscle memory for some long forgotten practice. Staring at the door because it seemed like the right thing to do, though not knowing why. Deena’s laughter feel silent and her hips stopped, the only movement an occasional tightening of her abdomen.

An eternity later, a young woman’s voice echoed in the recesses of the naked girl’s mind. “-and Romey was saying none of us could have done better-“ The voice was saying. “-so Jeong poked her in the ribs. Romey tried to fight back but the other girl’s took Jeong’s side so…” She trailed off like the conclusion was obvious.

The next voice to speak was all too familiar. It sent a shiver up Deena’s spine as the Amazon spoke. “And where is Romey now?”

“Tied up in one of the guest rooms.” The young woman’s voice said plainly. “When I got the call they were starting on her butt with feathers.”

Deena started to stir. The door was opened, she hadn’t even noticed. Where it lead to she had no idea, the hallway outside looked old and well kept. In her daze there wasn’t much the confused girl could pay attention to, certainly not the details of a hallway.

“Go and fetch them, will you?” The wicked woman said. “One can stay, keep Romey company. You and the others come back here.”

“Yes madam.” Said the girl, all obedience. Deena saw her, or the back of her, a tiny brunette scurrying from the room.

Letting her head fall forward, the trapped girl blinked. Her tormentor stood beside the table, hands resting behind her and an almost imperceptible smile pricking the corners of her lips. What she was smiling about was hard to say, Deena was more concerned about those knowing green eyes moving over the curves and crevices of her naked body. Nothing had changed about the woman since the moment Deena first saw her, hair tied back, not a single one out of place, skin perfect, no sign of weariness despite how long they had been there together. Meanwhile the bound girl was a wreck of cold sweat, pink marks and stickiness.

“…please…” Deena whimpered, trying to remember where she was. There were flashes of memory, vague images and feelings, like trying to capture a dream. She spoke, if you could call it that, without thinking. “…I-I don’t…”

“Hush now.” The Amazon’s smile grew as she met the exhausted girl’s eyes. “A few of my girls will be here in a moment. They’ll take care of you.”

“N-no…please…m-make it stop…”

“Nothing’s happening to you dear.” She said, slightly amused. “You did very well.”

“Please…please…” Deena’s voice tremored. “I don’t…I don’t want to be ticklish anymore…make it stop…”

A huddle of footsteps came hurriedly into the room and the tall woman’s attention turned away from her pleading captive. “You needn’t worry.” She said as five girls surrounded the table, each one in a tight white catsuit. A couple of them stepped aside to let their madam through, all but bowing as she sauntered toward the door. “Your interrogation is over.” Standing in the doorway, the seductive demon goddess looked back over one shoulder. “Now it’s time for your punishment.”

Continued...​
 
Chapter Nine: Help

When Emma sped off down the road she watched in her rearview mirror as the three girls in white chased her, all laughing and grinning as they faded behind a cloud of gravel dust. She watched the large gate get smaller, set her eyes forward and pressed her foot down harder on the pedal. Where exactly she was going the panicked redhead had no idea, but anywhere was better than there. A town, a village, anywhere with sane people would do.

Keeping her eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel, Emma leaned down toward the passenger’s side floor and reached for her bag. At the speed she was going it occurred to the normally law-abiding girl that she hadn’t even put her seatbelt on. An unknown country road, no seatbelt, excessive speed, all of that and Emma still decided to fumble for her handbag. Evidently the kindly girl’s day of multiple trespasses and a little voyeurism had given her the confidence to take even loftier risks.

Yanking her bag up onto the empty passenger’s seat, heart pounding, the panicked girl fished out her phone. Holding the phone beside the steering wheel, Emma darted her eyes from screen road and back again as she clumsily typed in her password. Only when the Home Screen popped up did she realize, unsurprisingly way out in such a rural area, there was no signal. “Damn!” She tossed the phone back beside her bag and clutched both hands to the wheel, knuckles white from the force of her grip.

Trees and fields whizzed by and all Emma could focus on was her mounting pile of regrets. She should have stayed behind to help Deena. She should have called the police when Mr. Lucas was torturing that girl. Should never have let Deena come along, never let herself be swayed by Deena’s adventurous streak. Maybe, maybe if Emma had not been such a coward and rescued Wendy Starr years before, maybe none of this would have happened. Too late now of course, but her guilt was hardly lessened by an inability to go back in time and try again.

Emma took a bend in the road, then another, passed over a small bridge, ten minutes or more had gone by and she hadn’t seen a single other car. It was a weekday in the middle of the afternoon out in the middle of nowhere, yet there should have been something. A person on a horse even, a barn off in the distance. There was nothing, fields and fences, the odd tree. Emma was starting to feel less like she was racing toward help and more like she was driving deeper into the Twilight Zone.

Tearing by a rough dirt driveway that lead into a bunch of high shrubbery, the speedy redhead paid it little mind. There was no letterbox or any sign the driveway went much further than beyond the collection of twiggy roadside bushes. A moment later Emma heard a distinctive ‘Woop!’ as the noise cut right through the sound of the car. Sure enough when she glanced up to the rearview mirror, there was a beige police car making a dramatic turn out of the driveway to nowhere.

“Oh thank god!” Emma shook the steering wheel with delight as she let her foot up off the gas. “Yes! Yes!” She pulled over to the shoulder, or the patch of dirt and grass that stood as an excused for one. Seconds later the police car, with the words ‘Sheriff’ plastered across the hood, pulled up sharply behind her. Emma was already bounding out of the driver’s door. “Officer!”

“Ma’am-“ A kindly older man with a bushy grey moustache said. He was halfway out his own driver’s door, one hand on the top.

“Officer, please!” She bounded around the car, waving her hands in frantic worry. “My friend! My friend she’s down the road! She was –she’s been-“ Emma stammered a bit, her mind working faster than her mouth.

The old man stood up, one wrinkled hand still on his door. His other hand came up and calmly rested a white cowboy hat atop his thinning white hair. “Ma’am I’mma need you to get back in your vehicle.” He spoke nice and calm, like he was ordering toast on a lazy Sunday morning.

“No, officer, please, you don’t understand!” Emma squawked, stopping just a few feet from the old cowboy’s open door.

“Sheriff.” He stated plain and started to gently push his door closed. He wore dark pants and a beige top, silver star right over his heart.

“What?” The confused girl said, some of the steam taken out of her panic. She looked the cowboy over and wondered why he wasn’t more concerned about her clear state of anxiousness.

“You keep calling me officer. I’m the sheriff.”

“Right –yes- sheriff, sorry!” Emma said, happy to placate any technicalities as long as it would get her to more pressing matters with haste.

“Now, like I said-“ He gave his door a final push with one hand, letting it click shut. “-I need you to get back in your vehicle.”

Emma put her hands up, palms open as if to calm the man, though it was hard to see how he could have been much calmer without falling asleep. “I will, I will, promise! It’s just my friend, down the road, she’s been….been kidnapped, I think!” It sounded even stranger saying it out loud than it had been going through the whole ordeal.

“Kidnapped you say?” He said without so much as a raised eyebrow.

“Yes! There was- there are some people…” She hesitated, suddenly very unsure how best to explain why Deena was now in the hands of girls that dressed all in white at an enormous country mansion where they allegedly used tickling to torture people.

“Ma’am-“ The sheriff put up one hand, it was his turn to calm her.

“It’s hard to explain! But I swear, I swear! Her name is Deena Tripp and they kidnapped her, they have her there right now!”

“Ma’am I need you to caaalm down, you understand?”

“Yes! Yes I do!” Emma took a half-step toward the sheriff. “There are these people, bad people and they-

“Ma’am-“

“-They took Deena but I got away and-“

“Ma’am…”

“-I didn’t have a signal and I was going for help but we have to back there-

“Ma’am!” The sheriff’s tone turned hard and put an end to the flustered girl’s yammering. “I understand you’re upset. But we ain’t gonna help your friend or anyone else out here on the roadside.” His voice lowered to a less authoritative octave, returned to the agreeable old boy he first appeared. “We’ll head down the station, sort all this out there.”

“The station?” Emma said, posing the question more to herself than to the sheriff. She wasn’t all too keen on a delay but maybe he was right. The old man did have an air of someone who knew what he was doing, the curvy redhead supposed he wouldn’t be sheriff otherwise. A police station would have resources, other officers, or deputies, Emma thought. She turned and started motioning back toward her car. “Okay. Okay, that sounds good. I’ll just-“

One of the old man’s hands rested on the girl’s shoulder, firm and gentle at the same time. “Uh-uh, no ma’am. Best you ride with me.”

“My keys are in there, my phone-“ She started to pull away but the sheriff’s squeezed a little tighter.

“Never you mind.” He said, pulling the shorter girl back around so they came eye to eye. “I’ll have a couple deputies come by and collect your things.”

“But the car, we can’t leave it with the ke- “

“Stop resisting.” Cutting her off with his commanding tone, the sheriff’s grip went from firm to forceful.

“I’m not! I just want to-“ Emma began, without thinking she started to pull away. The old man’s free hand caught her around the wrist. “Hey!” In a whirlwind of motion she was tugged toward him, the world spun and before the petit girl knew what was happening she’d been bent over the hood of the sheriff’s patrol car. “Wait! I didn’t do anything! Agh!” She struggled instinctively as her other hand was snapped up and pulled behind her.

“We’ll get you down the station-“ He said to the tune of clinking handcuffs. “-sort all this out there. You don’t give me no more trouble, deal?”

“Yes-ngh-“ She winced as one cuff clicked around her wrist. Emma froze, the cold metal forcing her to take a breath and try to calm her nerves. “This is a misunderstanding, that’s all. I didn’t mean to resist, okay?”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” The other cuff clicked around her wrist and the diminutive girl was pulled back to stand upright, hands behind her back. “Ain’t no crime here, so far.”

Emma stepped awkwardly along toward the back door of his patrol car. “Do I really need to be handcuffed? I’ll go quietly, I swear.”

“Just procedure.” He held her elbow in one hand and opened the back door with the other. “In you get.”

As the buxom girl slumped into the back of the old man’s car, door closing with a definitive click behind her, Emma could hardly believe her luck. Finally she did the right thing, found help at last for someone who needed it –albeit accidentally- and still managed to mess it up. Forcing her breathing to slow, hoping her heart rate would come down, the frazzled girl stayed quiet as the sheriff climbed in, closed the door and pulled a lazy U-turn back the way she’d come from. Best to keep her mouth shut, Emma thought, at least until she could explain herself calmly. Maybe even work out a version of events that didn’t incriminate her and Deena.

Five minutes of country road went by and Emma was starting to wonder if her employer, The Deep Look, would be willing to pay for a lawyer. They turned a corner, down some side road that had gone by completely unnoticed during her mad dash of an escape. The sheriff was in no hurry, meandering along as if matching the actual speed limit would blow the engine. Every minute or so the old man’s eyes would flick up to the rearview mirror, no particular expression on his well-lined face as he looked back at the anxious girl. He was giving her one of those looks when they turned again, the road suddenly bumpy and crunching underneath.

Snapping her eyes away from the mirror, Emma jerked her head around. There were trees, over grown grass. They weren’t on the road anymore, not one made of asphalt anyway. It was a dusty dirt stretch, hardly even a driveway, the patrol car wobbling along at a crawl as the actual roadway disappeared behind. The worrisome girl looked back to the mirror, her eyebrows furrowed, hoping to meet the sheriff’s eye again. He wasn’t looking back, though, driving on as mild-mannered as someone’s good-hearted grandpa.

“Is…is this a shortcut?” Emma said, a touch of hope in her voice even though it made little sense.

His eyes moved to the mirror for less than second, then back to the dusty path ahead. “Nope.”

“Well…where’s the station?”

The old man sniffed, then yawned, then made a sort of ‘tup’ sound with his lips, none of which came anywhere close to something resembling an answer.

“Where are you taking me?” A noticeable quiver entered the redhead’s voice.

He nodded like he was pointing ahead. Emma leaned to one side to see out the windshield and as they came round a bend the trees either side parted to a small clearing. There were a couple of other police vehicles, the same beige and star markings as the sheriff’s except they said ‘deputy’ on the side. One was a car, the other some sort of SUV but Emma didn’t really know a whole lot about vehicles. It was encouraging at least, to see more police. Less encouraging was the run down single-story cabin they were parked out front of. More a shack, boards breaking off, a hole in the roof, chimney crumbled. There was no glass in the two windows and no light coming from either of them.

“What is this place?” Emma said, hoping it was some sort of temporary station, though she could hardly see how this place would be an improvement over…literally anywhere else. As they slowed to a stop right out front, a brawny deputy with a baldhead and a dark goatee stepped out of the shack’s front door. Or the hole where the front door used to be. “I said; What is this place? What are we doing here?”

“Sheriff.” The burly deputy said when the old man opened his door.

“Carson.” Said the sheriff, stepping out of the car. “Not here yet, huh?”

Strolling over to the hood of the sheriff’s car, the big deputy leaned over and squinted through to peer at Emma. “Won’t be long. Steph and I got here just a minute ago.” The driver’s door closed but the handcuffed girl could still hear the men, if a little muffled.

“Steph!” Called the sheriff as he wandered around to join the one named Carson at the front of his car. “Get up here girl!”

“She give you any trouble?” Carson said, nodding toward the sheriff’s car.

“Says her friend got kidnapped.”

“That right?” There was no change of tone in the deputy’s voice, like he was having a perfectly normal conversation around the office water-cooler.

“S’what she says.”

Leaning on the hood of the car, the two men had their backs to Emma. While they waited, presumably for the one named Steph, Emma ran through a hundred different thoughts trying to speculate where she had been taken, and why. On the one hand there were multiple officers, which was good. On the other hand the sheriff hadn’t been very forthcoming with where they were or why they were there, which was less good. She cycled through a few different thoughts like that, trying to focus more on the positive ones than the negative. They seemed unfazed about the alleged kidnapping, but that could be because the law was already aware of it. Perhaps they were aware of Mr. Lucas too, and this whole shack-in-the-woods was just a staging point for some sort of raid. Naturally protocol would prevent the sheriff from sharing any police business with a civilian. They’d left her keys behind, car, phone, bag. And she hadn’t resisted that much, had she? Positive thoughts Emma, the nervous girl thought, positive thoughts.

“Who’s this?” A woman’s voice came from the doorway. She was shorter than the sheriff, long brunette hair, in her late twenties maybe. Emma didn’t get too much of a good look at the deputy’s face, what with the men standing in the way and the fact she was slipping on a pair of dark aviator glasses as she stepped out from the building.

“Emma Clark, so I’m told.” The sheriff said and it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Emma racked her brain, thinking back to every word she and the old man had exchanged. Nowhere did she recall telling the sheriff her name. Staying positive was a lot more difficult all of a sudden. Had he run her plates? Would it have mattered? The car wasn’t registered to Emma and even it was he didn’t just say her name. He said he’d been told her name, but by who?

Walking with something of a swagger, the deputy called Steph came up beside the back window on the driver’s side. Emma had to admit she was somewhat relieved to be in the presence of another woman, even if she was wearing a similar, if tighter, uniform as the men. Steph leaned down, her mirrored glasses staring into the patrol car, full lips a straight line as she inspected the handcuffed girl. Looking back, Emma caught her own reflection in the woman’s aviators, a pitiful sight of worry if ever she saw one.

“Alright.” Said the sheriff, stepping up off the front of his car with a huff. “You two get her inside, I’ll wait here for pretty boy.”

As Steph stood upright and grabbed hold of the door handle, Emma instinctively shuffled backward. Sliding away as the door opened, the redhead’s back hit the passenger’s side door. No way was she was going anywhere without some answers, not a chance.

“Come on now.” Steph said, waving a finger. “Let’s do this easy.”

Emma shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the deputy’s glasses, slightly unnerved that she couldn’t properly see the woman’s eyes. “No, no way. I need to know why I’m here.”

Bending one knee, the svelte brunette put a hand on her hip as it jutted out. She gave a tired sigh. “An officer of the law is giving you a direction. Don’t make this difficult.”

“I just want some answers.” Said the smaller girl, pressing her back hard up against the opposite door. “I’m more than happy to cooperate but-“ Air rushed up her back and gravity yanked her out of the car as the door whipped open. Emma fell with a startled yelp, plummeting only half as far as she expected.

Emma looked up, her bottom half still in the car. She was laying back, parallel to the ground, caught in the steely thick arms of deputy Carson. “We appreciate your compliance, ma’am.” Said the big man as he started dragging the petit redhead out of the vehicle.

“Ah! No!” Emma winced as her legs fell, shoes hitting the dusty parking lot with a thump. “What is this?! What’s going on?!”

Steph wandered around the back of the sheriff’s car as Emma was hauled to her feet. “Have you been drinking?” The deputy said, in no hurry to help out of her fellow officer. “You sound drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” The tiny girl snapped, struggling against the big man behind her. He held her upper arms in his large paws, looming over. There was little point in fighting, Deputy Carson stood a solid foot taller than Emma but she kept squirming anyway, if only to make a point. “My friend’s been kidnapped, don’t you understand?! She’s in danger!”

“Ain’t we all.” Carson said dryly, and forced the smaller girl to turn, guiding her stumbling toward the ominous cabin.

“Sheriff, please!” Emma whined as she tripped, shoved on firmly by the bulky deputy as she passed the old man.

Turning her head quickly from side to side the increasingly panicked girl looked for some means of escape. Running from the police was so far outside Emma’s realm of possibilities she was surprised to even think of it, but something was clearly very wrong here. She tried to stay calm, tried to think of the positive reasons a rural sheriff’s department might have hauled her to a rundown cabin in the woods. Tried, and failed. On through the yawning front door and everything fell dark, the redhead’s eyes blinking in a rush to adjust. Moving forward blindly, the buxom girl made several steps into the unknown before she could make out anything. When shapes did start to make sense the first thing Emma saw, right in front of her feet, was a staircase descending down.

“Down you go.” Carson said.

“No. No! Forget it!” She pushed back, like pushing back against a brick wall.

Steph appeared beside her, aviators folded neatly into her breast pocket. “If you don’t go down, we’ll make you go down.”

Fixing her eyes hard as she could muster on the woman, Emma planted her feet. “I am not going down there.” Said the redhead, as stern as anything she had ever said.

With a shrug of total indifference the brunette leaned down and hooked one arm behind the handcuffed girl’s knees. “You’re almost more trouble-ngh-“ Steph gave a little grunt as she hefted the prisoner up off the floor. “-than the actual drunks we deal with.”

“Hey! Hey! Put me down!” Emma wriggled, bucking and worming among the grip of the two deputies. “This isn’t right! This isn’t right! Help! HELP!”

“Ain’t nobody going to hear you out here.” Carson said, his grip firm around the girl’s arms as they trudged down into the basement.

Stairs creaking under her, the fitful girl continued to holler. Below the cold room had little in it, a concrete floor and an old green rug. Two slim windows sat just above ground level, the only source of light in the dank basement. Without too much trouble, despite the frightened girl’s struggling, the two deputies bought her down to the center of the room and set her down. Lowered to a sitting position, Emma immediately eyed the stairs. Much to her dismay Carson wasted no time, lumbering over to the foot of the shoddy old steps where he turned back to face her and folded his tree trunk sized arms.

Her breath quickened from the brief, very one-sided conflict, Emma looked to the windows. Dirty, actual glass windows that didn’t look like they would open. Even if they did open the curvy girl doubted her plump butt would be able to squeeze through, assuming she was somehow able to climb up the dusty cinderblock wall to begin with. With no obvious escape route Emma turned her attention to Steph, hoping she could muster some form of empathy, or at least reason, one woman to another.

“Listen- listen this- this all just a big-“

“Don’t bother.” Said the deputy with a scoff. “Just keep quiet.”

Through the tight denim of her jeans Emma could feel the rug, perhaps not quite so old as she first thought, surprisingly soft under her butt. It was oddly clean, in fact, compared to the rest of the shabby space. There were a few other items nearby, a rusted shovel, some water damaged boxes, none of which looked like they had moved in at least a decade. The rug was odd though, now that her eyes had adjusted to the dimly lit room, out of place like it had no business being there. Emma had no business being there even more so, tugging gently at the cuffs behind her back, she couldn’t just sit in silence. There had to be something she could say, some deal or question maybe. As the bookish girl thought, the loud roar of an engine echoed down the stairs and broke her concentration.

Lessening to a low rumble, Emma could hear tires crunching slowly across the ground before the world fell silent again. Watching keenly, eager for any hint of what was going on, the handcuffed girl saw the two deputies eye each other. There wasn’t much in the look between them, a touch of recognition, maybe. Voices followed from above, the sheriff and another man, distorted by the walls and distance. Emma couldn’t make out what they were saying, a fairly casual conversation by the pitch of it. Footsteps then, creaking across the floorboards above and then creaking down the stairs.

The sheriff came first, moving slow either because his fastest years were behind him or because he didn’t trust those stairs one bit. Behind him another man, another deputy, his gait somewhat impatient as he followed the old man. Tall, broad shoulders, not unlike deputy Carson but a little more athletic. He wore the same uniform, beige and dark pants, and a motorcycle helmet with the tinted visor still pulled down. Strange then, that the new arrival seemed in a rush to get down the stairs, as Emma was fairly sure he mustn’t have been able to see very much at all.

“Alright-“ The bound girl said, a little more sheepishly than she intended. “-what is this now? You’re all here aren’t you?” The new deputy brushed by the sheriff and strolled right over to her. Looming over Emma, the muscular man’s covered head looked down, blank features of the helmet showing nothing. Her voice shook all too noticeably when she spoke, looking up at the dark visor. “What do you want?”

Large hands reached up and took either side of the helmet, the deputy pulling it slowly up and off his head. A clean-shaven lantern jaw moved as he said “The same thing I’ve always wanted.” He was the same age as Emma or thereabouts, blue eyes and swept-back hair, the handsome look of an all-American boy. It took her a moment to place the face, and when she did the tiny girl’s world fell away. There was nothing, a black void, the only things inside it were Emma and the strapping lad. “Hello Emma.” Said Jason Whitmore.

She couldn’t speak. Her chin quivered, mouth half open like she wanted to say something, too crippled by fear to form the thoughts. Emma forgot about the sheriff, about Steph and Carson, even the crummy basement. Four years of nightmares and guilt and terrible regret took the redhead’s breath, twisted her heart and squeezed at her stomach. Barely able to pry her eyes off the chiseled lad, Emma darted a look to the sheriff. Standing beside Carson at the bottom of the stairs, neither the old man nor his bald deputy showed any sign emotion. If anything, they looked slightly bored.

Jason crouched down to his haunches, resting the helmet gently on the carpet behind him. “My fingers sting, you know?” He held one hand up, turning it in careful examination. “When it’s cold enough, in the winter. I didn’t think there was any real damage after what you did, but then I’m reminded, on the coldest days, of the one that got away.” He lowered his hands and narrowed his eyes. “Or I should say, got away until now.”

“You can’t do this.” Emma said breathily. She looked back to the sheriff, to Carson, over Jason’s shoulder to Steph, not a one of them showing any sympathy. “You-whatever you’re planning, whatever this is….you’re police officers!”

“We are.” Jason said and before the tiny redhead could react he’d cupped his large hands onto her legs, just above the knees. “And you’re our prisoner.”

“Let me go!” Making an attempt to shuffle backward, something she regretted not doing earlier, the captive girl felt the former footballer’s pressure increase. “I want a lawyer! I want-“

“No lawyer for you.” The brawny young man said, tipping forward onto his knees and straddling Emma’s shins. “You know what happens now.”

“No! NO!” As the huge lad shifted forward, the poor girl found she had no choice but to lean back. “You can’t let him do this! Sheriff, please! You don’t know what he does!”

The old man chuckled. “”Course we do.” He pointed a thumb at the stoic deputy beside him. “Carson here does the same damn thing. Steph too when she’s of a mood.”

“Y-you’re not cops!” Emma balked as Jason’s weight came down just below her squirming hips, but they ignored her.

“What was the name of name of that one woman…?” Said the sheriff, twirling his fingers as he tried to jog a memory. “Business lady from out of town, you know the one.”

Carson grinned, shoulders rising with a silent laugh. “Linda…something. Had the stockings. Boy did she ever go crazy.”

“She got lost.” Jason said, squeezing his knees tight either side of Emma’s hips. “Carson pulled her over-“

“-She wasn’t even speeding!” The bald man laughed again.

The burly boy continued, “Some out-of-towner on a business trip or some such.” Emma couldn’t believe it, trapped under Jason Whitmore, of all people, and he was recounting some bizarre tale like he was in a bar after work. “So Carson here tells her she’s gotta get towed, has to pay a big fine.” He turned to Carson. “You want to tell it? It’s your story.”

“Go ahead.” Carson gestured, gladly.

“Takes her out to this grass patch, not too far from here as it happens, says she can avoid the fine and all. But this lady, Linda whatever, she’s not having it.” Jason looked down at his captive like she was an interested audience, her mortified expression giving off quite a different impression. He soldiered on without trouble, the sheriff and his deputies all smiling along. “So Carson says look, he’s not all too interested in anything untoward, all he wants is to give her a little foot massage. They go back and forth a bit, I think, as you do, but eventually Carson gets her laying down and shoes off. ‘Course she’s handcuffed too, just like you are now.”

“I don’t want to hear this.” Emma said, voice trembling. She could imagine well enough what happened to poor Linda in the grass patch. It would have been an uncomfortable story under any circumstances, far more so handcuffed and pinned to the floor of a dingy basement.

Jason’s smile faded. “You sure about that? Cause once the story’s done…” He didn’t have to finish and the implication left Emma silent. Taking the lack of a response as an invitation to continue, the burly boy’s smile returned. “He starts touching her feet, right? But not like a massage.”

“Not like a massage at all.” Carson added cheerfully, Steph and the old man grinning along.

“And this Linda lady starts flipping out, thinking it’s an accident, then thinking it’s a joke.” The one-time star athlete said. “Soon enough she realizes; this guy’s fuckin’ crazy.”

The other three laughed openly, even the old man, who gave his bald deputy a playful nudge of the elbow.

“You went to town on her, didn’t you Carson?” Jason said as the jovial volume faded.

“Sure did. Tore them stockings open, had me a right royal time. Never seen anyone leave town so fast…after I let her go.”

“The point is, Emma-” Leaning forward, Jason’s expression turned cold. “-Me, Steph, Carson, even old Mackleroy, we was all hired on for the same reason. Hired by the same people, and you had to go poking around in their business. Hell, I never would have come looking for you, you were a drop in the bucket these last few years.” Emma swallowed, and swallowed hard. “You should have stayed in New York.” Jason said, followed immediately by clawing both hands wildly at the cuffed girl’s lower ribs.

“Nyyyoooh!” Curling forward Emma screamed, then slammed back against the carpet. “Ahahaha! Ohnoho!” She would have liked not to have laugh, for a moment at least, to show some sign of resistance. The attack caught her off guard so fast there just wasn’t any time to brace for it.

In the first few seconds, as her legs kicked helplessly between his, the spasming girl almost wished she was back in her apartment with Evan. Being tickled by the dopey country boy was horrible, yet Emma would have traded it without a second thought if it meant not being under the cruel fingers of Jason Whitmore. That was the difference, the pleading redhead knew right away, Evan was the lesser of two evils because he wasn’t evil at all. He was big and boisterous and had trouble reading very obvious cues, but ultimately well meaning. Jason, broad grin stretched across his perfectly white teeth, was the total opposite. He enjoyed the fight, relished in the struggling and screaming and did everything he could to ensure the suffering was as awful as he could make it.

Gone were the clumsy jock’s hands of senior year that had fumbled around Emma’s torso, he moved more like a machine now. Bounding up and down, frilly hair whipping every which way, the loudly laughing girl rolled left, rolled right, no direction safe from Jason’s vicious digits. Poking fingertips rolled over her tender ribs, squealing laughter bursting from the trapped girl who was as furious as she was ticklish. Flashing wide-eyed looks to the sheriff and his idle deputies gave Emma no hope, the three of them watching on with mild interest.

“Ooh I am glad you came back!” The cruel lad growled, sliding his pinchers down to the bosomy girl’s heaving sides. “You are just stupidly ticklish!”

Bucking up and down, the flailing girl’s hefty boobs bounced under the thin cotton of her yellow top. Emma’s entire nervous system was reeling, a deep fear gripping at the core of her being. Like a person petrified of knee-deep water being thrown in a lake, or a chronic arachnophobic being covered in spiders, this was her most primal of terrors. In truth, Emma would have taken the lake or the spiders and have been happy for it, anything but being trapped and tickled. As his fingers kneaded just above the shaking girl’s hips, she remembered all too well the distressing sounds of Wendy Starr being tortured senior year. In her ticklish fervor one terrible thought continued to whirl in the bound journalist’s mind; Maybe this is what I deserve.

“Emma, Emma, Emma!” Jason clapped his hands loudly, rubbing his palms together like he was looking over a tasty treat. “We are going to have some fun today, let me tell you!”

“Let me go!” Anger returned easily to the petit girl’s voice, now that the bastard’s hands were elsewhere. “You’ll all go to prison! All of you!” She whipped her gaze around, certain to show the rage in her eyes to the sheriff and his deputies.

“Ha-ha!” The dark haired lad threw his head back with exaggerated humor. “Do you think you’re the first one we’ve bought down here? Hell Emmie, do you think you’re even the first who’s told us we’ll all be locked up?”

Emma gnashed her teeth, hoping she was showing a lot more fury than fear. “I don’t care what you’ve done before! I swear I’ll never stop until you’re all be-hiiihiihaha! Noho! Hahaha! Get off me!” She squealed, Jason’s fingers slipping against the sliver of exposed midriff just above her belt. In her fitful struggling the redhead’s shirt had ridden up, hardly even a full inch, but it was more than enough to send her flopping like a breathless fish.

Though Emma’s career required a certain level of skill at being descriptive, the hyperticklish girl had always found it exceptionally difficult to describe just how much she loathed being tickled. Whenever someone came at her with wiggling fingers it was as if her entire body rejected the sensation. Every limb, every thought, ever damn cell of the tiny girl’s being fought to drive away the horrid sensitivity. Emma liked reading, doing research, taking nice walks. Calm, dignified pass-times that seldom, if ever, required raised voices or strenuous activity. Laughing feverishly as her tummy was tickled in front of three strangers was not only detestable, it was downright humiliating.

“Jason! Eeehahaha! Stop itahaha!” Emma strained, her cheeks blushing a light pink. More of the muscular young man’s fingers were finding their way onto her soft skin, the effect shockingly more maddening than through the cotton.

Yellow cloth gave way to devious digits and as it did more of the squealing girl’s midriff was exposed. Fingertips with far more finesse than Jason Whitmore had any right to quickly stroked and pinched along the redhead’s lower abdomen. Terrible struggle-filled seconds crawled by, the brawny boy’s wiggling fingers spreading out, venturing down to Emma’s sides. Sitting up sharply the top of the poor girl’s head almost hit Jason’s chin, a narrow miss as she let out a growling shriek. Collapsing back down onto her bound arms, Emma rolled frantically, furious demands for mercy forced out through her embarrassingly loud and unstoppable laughter.

It occurred to Emma then, in the throws of her infuriating agony, how lucky she had been most of her life. Though she did not feel especially fortunate in that moment it did seem, relative to other girls she knew, that Emma had not been tickled a great deal. For someone so small and painfully ticklish the freckle-faced girl had often considered herself a frequent target, but it wasn’t so. Certainly Emma didn’t hold a candle to the likes of poor Wendy Starr, the kind of girl who apparently ended up in helpless laughter every other day. With that in mind the handcuffed journalist was starting to fear Jason was all too keen on helping her make up the difference.

“Haeeeheehahaa! Help me!” The curvy girl cried to no one in particular. Midriff fully exposed, she rolled frantically as the strong lad’s hands goosed up and down her heaving sides.

“No one comes here, Emma!” Jason teased, clawing suddenly at the center of her tummy. “Only us! The locals know better than to come poking around!”

“Nyyyggghahahaaa! Stahahahap!” Her abdomen tensed severely, curling up as the boy’s deft digits ran amok around the trapped girl’s tender tummy.

Never in her life had Emma been so full of anger, hatred and fear all at the same time, none of which showed across her stupidly grinning face. At least with pain she could have shown her distress. Tickling made it so displaying anything besides an open-mouth smile required monumental effort. Even those couple of times during their senior year of high school when Jason got his hands on her, she had not been so afraid. Horrible though those incidents were, especially that second time in the AV room, there had been a sense of security, of being in a safe place. Under the bleachers, in the AV room, there was always the chance someone might happen by. In a basement in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by strangers quite happy to see her suffer, Emma’s sense of security was firmly replaced by an overwhelming hopelessness.

“I can’t get over you just showing up like this.” Jason said, smirking and shaking his head. He hooked his thumbs under the bottom of the redhead’s bunched-up shirt and started tugging it upward. “You were supposed to be my first real plaything, you know that?”

“Nff! No!” Emma winced, squirming as her white bra was slowly exposed.

“I mean you kind of were, remember?” He carried on as if there wasn’t a struggling woman underneath him. Stuffing the yellow cotton around the bottom of his prisoner’s neck, the strapping boy revealed her milky white cleavage. Just as there were across her button nose, a smattering of light freckles were peppered across the bulging flesh, hefty boobs squished into the cups of the buxom girl’s bra. “I got you good that last time. I’ve gotten a lot better at knot-tying, by the way.”

“You’re an asshole!” Emma spat. She never was much for cussing but even with half her torso in the open she made that one sound pretty venomous.

Jason curled his bottom lip out, like he was thinking about it, maybe like he agreed. “Doesn’t really change your situation though, does it?”

“I swear if you stop now I’ll-“ She started, but the muscular man’s hands were already crawling up both sides of her bare ribcage. A bargain, a threat, it didn’t matter much what the helpless girl was about to say. Wiggling fingers scrambled over her bra straps and as they did any ability to reason was instantly pushed aside by forced laughter. “Ohnahahaeee! Ahaha! Stopstop! Stoahahaha!”

Five fingertips on each side burrowed all too eagerly into the lower sides of Emma’s ballooning boobs. Shaking with laughter and every bit of fight she had to give, the voluptuous young woman’s bosoms quaked like they were going to burst free. Behind Jason, the cackling girl’s legs kicked wildly, her tiny shoes slipping and digging against the carpet. As she rolled and bucked atop her own arms Emma tugged madly at the cuffs, a fruitless exercise that was given no less effort despite zero chance of breaking free. With the heavy lad pressed down on her thighs the pleading girl couldn’t even knee him in the back, which she would have very much liked to do.

On top of the nightmare that was being bound and tickled against her will, having an audience made Emma feel preposterously more vulnerable. When it had just been her and Jason those years before, tied up at his mercy in the AV room, the frizzy haired girl hardly thought she could feel any less without power. Three people watching on, officers of the law no less, compounded every poke and stroke of the big lad’s cruel fingers. Emma was alone against the world and if there was a way out she was too wrapped up in laughter to think of it.

“How much can you take Emma, hmm?” The burly lad teased, fingers creeping up to explore the tightly clamped press of flesh between the girl’s biceps and bosom. Fingertips danced along the edge of her bunched-up shirt, the tickling sensation dangerously close to her thankfully hidden underarms.

Emma made no effort at a reply, everyone in that room knew the answer. How much the fitful girl could take had already been far surpassed, she was well into uncharted territory by then. One frantic minute drew into another, Jason’s fingers never seeming to slow. He wasn’t stopping, that was the scariest part. In the anguished redhead’s experience, even during those couple of times Jason had tickled her before, there were always pauses. Little moments, maybe only a second or two, just enough to gasp or growl while whoever was tickling her shifted position or made to some silly taunt. Not this time, the muscular man’s fingers moved up and down her heaving upperbody.

“Please!” Emma found she’d squealed, freckled cheeks redder with every terrible second. She hated herself for begging but it seemed there was little choice in the matter, the word simply burst out. Through her ongoing laughter the poor girl said it again, and again, each yelp for mercy more desperate than the one before. There was hardly much point in being prideful anymore. “Eeeieheeplease! Pleeeheeheease!”

“’Please’? ‘Please’, is that what you’re saying?” Jason chuckled, squeezing cruelly at the curvy girl’s tender sides. He enjoyed every squawking cry for mercy, they all did, that was all to clear. Emma was furious for giving the sadistic officers exactly what they wanted from her, yet she couldn’t stop. Laughing, struggling and screaming for an end to it, the frazzled girl was playing right into their hands in the most literal sense.

“Eeehahaha! Stopahaha!” Forehead turning as red as her cheeks, the cuffed girl bounced madly. Wiggling fingertips slid along the underside of her straining bra, great milky cleavage jiggling uncontrollably. Just then the wiggling stopped, the big lad’s hands staying firmly gripped around his captive’s lower ribs.

“Any requests?” The handsome deputy looked around to his fellow officers while Emma panted for much needed air, her ribs swelling with each breath in his large hands.

“Get her feet.” Carson nodded, bristled chin pointing toward the breathless girl’s tiny shoes. Emma shuddered, heart leaping as she instinctively crossed one foot over the other.

“Uh-uh.” Jason shook his head, tensing his arms to ensure his prisoner stayed exactly where she was. “I’m saving those beauties for later.” He said, winking at the gasping girl who visibly cringed at the thought.

“Try her navel.” The sheriff chimed in. “You know I love a good poke at a young lady’s navel.”

“Her naaaavel.” The big lad grinned, dragging out the word like it was the greatest idea he’d ever heard. That toothy smile, white as a shark’s, turned down to the redhead who started struggling against the cuffs in earnest. Struggling against Jason’s grip, struggling against every ridiculous decision that had lead her to that basement.

“No! Nff! No!” Emma jerked back, or tried anyway. She thrust her hips hard, the former athlete’s immense mass of muscle barely shifting. Digging her shoes into the carpet the poor girl pushed hard, heels sliding and slipping fruitlessly. Emma didn’t need any experience having her belly button touched to know she didn’t want it to happen, alarm bells blaring in the back of her mind like a storm warning.

“Here it coooomes!” Wiggling a single index finger high above her, the brawny young man squeezed his legs tight around the redhead’s hips.

“Hngh! NO! Nnnggh!” Twisting and turning the poor girl strained, stomach stretching as she huffed to worm away. Wide eyes fixed on that devilish finger, Emma grit her teeth and watched in agony. Inch by inch it lowered closer to her doubtlessly sensitive navel, every second a drawn out torture of it’s own. “God please! Stop it!” She blurted out, no clue as to where the words came from and mortified at how easily she’d been made to say them.

“Funny-“ Jason paused his advancing finger just a couple of painfully short inches from the redhead’s defenseless belly button. “-I had you pegged for an atheist.” And before she could respond the cruel boy’s fingertip was drilling deep inside her tender navel.

“Yeeeiigghahaaa!” Lurching up with a shrill cry, the bound girl’s stomach muscles seized tight. Frizzy red hair flew up and followed Emma immediately back down, the petit girl’s curvaceous body convulsing madly as she let out a shrieking laugh.

Rolling sharply one way and back the other, bucking and arching her back, not a single panicked maneuver gave a split-second’s respite. Every violent throw of Emma’s upperbody was easily accompanied by her attacker’s casually wiggling digit. Half spoken words came out in high-pitched wails, each one buried among her frantically loud squeals. Within thirty seconds the captive girl’s face and forehead were bright red, her harshly flexing neck quickly following suit.

“Good one Mackleroy!” Jason beamed, all joyful and having a grand old time while his unwilling guest went wild under him. Though Emma was a long way from paying attention to her squad of corrupt capturers she did catch a glimpse of the sheriff and his other two deputies chuckling along. “Any other requests? Carson? Steph?”

“I’m not your toy!” Emma snapped in the same second the muscular boy’s evil fingertip finally backed off. “I’m a human being! You understand?!” She yelled, the look in her eye one of absolute fury. The kind of look that promised brutal retribution, if only she’d been free.

Sheriff Mackleroy gave a humorless chuckle. “Well sure, we know that. Wouldn’t be much point otherwise, would there?”

Flashing her fiery glare around the dank room the raging girl took a few hurried breaths. “You people, you’re sick! You’re all insane!” She barked.

“How about her tits?” Steph said, no hint in her tone that any of Emma’s anger had even been heard.

Generally quiet and thought of as well-read, Emma rather enjoyed being thought of as a dignified type. A nerd of sorts and happy for it, the studious girl seldom ever found a need or even the desire to swear. In that moment, as four sets of eyes all gazed hungrily over her bra-clad bosoms, she could scarcely think of a time in her life when cussing had ever been more appropriate. “Fuck you!” She intended to roar at the four uniformed onlookers but the words came out as more of a fearful sob.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you have ticklish titties?” The former athlete said in that tactless way a stereotype locker-room jock might. Snaking one hand under her back the fitful girl twisted, pushing herself down a top his wandering hand. Turned as she was it allowed the Jason’s other hand to breezily swoop under the redhead’s other side.

“No! Nnnggnnoo!” Emma pushed her upper-back downward, forcing her shoulders into the carpet as hard as she could. Behind her, squashed between her spine and the rug, the big lad’s hands were pawing at her bra strap. Jason loomed over, big grin across his solid jaw. All the fighting and yelling, Emma was playing his game. She couldn’t win, that was abysmally clear, but maybe she could at least fight the way she wanted to.

Tightening her lips, the determined girl forced herself still. Not quite able to stop herself from pressing down on the deputy’s hands, she willed her heavy breathing to slow. Nose twitching as she stared daggers up at him, Emma flared her nostrils angrily. She hoped Jason understood, she hoped in some way he knew that whatever indignities he put her through would be coming back on him a thousand fold when all was said and done. Him and all his wicked kind.

“There it is!” A muffled click followed the brawny fellow’s self-satisfied smirk. Suddenly the trapped girl’s whole bra loosened, the clasp forced down as the weight of her hefty boobs fell free. Sweeping his hands out from underneath her, Jason nimbly hooked his thumbs under each cup and shoved Emma’s bra neatly up under her chin.

Carson let out a long whistle as Jason leaned back, their prisoner’s bulbous breasts trembling in the open air. Deputy Steph gave an approving nod and the sheriff raised an eyebrow. Milky white and peppered with small orange freckles, Emma’s large boobs lay bare, big pink nipples terrifyingly vulnerable.

Steph took a half-step off the wall. “Oh, let me at ‘em…” She purred.

“Not a chance.” Jason threw up one hand which caused his fellow deputy to retreat back that eager little step. “Miss Clark here is all mine.”

Emma trembled and bared her teeth. “Only…because you have help. You could never take me alone.”

“Ha!” Carson sputtered, quickly stifling himself and giving Jason an apologetic wave. “Sorry, she’s just…they’re never usually this spunky.”

“Trust me-“ Jason said, jaw tensed as he turned his focus from the bearded deputy and back to the half naked girl between his thighs. “-it won’t last.”

It felt like a win, maybe even like an opportunity, short-lived though it was. Emma thought fast to seize the moment, maybe ding the handsome lad’s pride a little more, but to her limitless dismay it was his hands that were faster. In a flash he clawed at her the bare breasted girl, five fingers digging into the fleshly sides of her naked boobs.

“Aaaiiihahaha! Ahahanaha!” Emma screamed, jaw dropping into a shocked gape as fingertips wiggled between her ribs and kneaded savagely into her squishy bosoms. Shaking wildly in the wounded man’s grip, the red-faced girl’s breasts quaked, pressed together in a pair of buxom cushiony mounds.

Between clenching her eyes shut tight and having them burst open wide sporadically, Emma caught flashes of the brutish deputy’s glower. Gone was the boisterous grin, his expression turned sour and cold. In what fractured pieces of thought the squealing girl could gather, it suddenly seemed unwise indeed to have challenged him. Not to be undone in front of his colleagues Jason now had something to prove, and unfortunately for Emma he was doing so with fervor.

Fingers dug up under the redhead’s bunched shirt, digging deep into her underarms and causing her to howl. Rocking with wide open-mouthed laughter, Emma shrieked as the vengeful lad’s fingers danced across her nipples and squeezed savagely down her sides. He pinched with malice at the undersides of her jiggling boobs, his big hands able to engulf her tender ribs and claw relentlessly at the same time. Wordless, frenzied laughter tore from the buxom girl’s overworked lungs.

Over long, anguished minutes the raving young woman’s convulsing tummy turned a bright pink. Her sides were covered in streaks just a touch lighter, tracks where Jason’s fingers stroked over and over again. From the scrunched up shirt and down to the cackling girl’s bottom-most ribs shone a glistening red, beads of sweat forming across her hopelessly ticklish skin. Even Emma’s poor, delicate navel did not escape unscathed, rouge digits diving in and out as the burly boy ravaged the length of her curvy upperbody.

How long the ten-finger onslaught lasted Emma couldn’t say, but when Jason finally stopped even he appeared slightly out of breath. “You know, I was going to leave them for later-“ He paused for air, his victim hardly able to hear a word over her own wheezing gasps. “-but I think those little feet of yours are just dying for my attention!”

“N-nuh!” She blubbered mindlessly, eyes wet with tears. Emma could feel the steel-chested monster’s weight shifting. Her stomach twisted in knots and her already heaving breaths quickened.

As Jason slowly turned his wicked attentions around an insane thought crossed Emma’s mind. Torment-induced no doubt, nonetheless the disheveled girl imagined she would rather return to the merciless assault on her torso than suffer a single finger stroking her feet. His wide shoulders turned back on her, the desperately panting girl wriggled herself weakly away, both legs caught immediately in the deputy’s vice-like grip.

“You’re in biiiig trouble now!” Jason sang, straddling the topless girl’s lower legs.

“N-no! I won’t-I-I won’t-“ Stammering, desperate for some sort of bargain to be had, the helpless girl truly had no idea what it was she was trying to say. Squirming and shifting her feet, Emma yelped with a wide-eyed start at the feeling of fingers tugging gently at her laces.

“You know Em, thinking about it now…” Said the vile tower of sinewy muscle as he painstakingly slid one pair of neatly tied laces open. “…I think you and I might be good for each other. High school sweethearts, what do you think?” He let the slack laces fall aside and started to work the other shoe. “When all this is over, if we’re allowed, maybe I’ll have you for a wife.”

Naturally the prospect sent a cold shiver across Emma’s sweat-sheened body, goose bumps breaking out enforce all over her exposed skin. It sounded impossible, of course, but then a great many impossible things had occurred in the last few hours. Marriage was a long way off, if the ambitious redhead had considered it at all, and it certainly would never be to a tickle-mad psychopath like Jason Whitmore.

He carried on, taking his time to pry the trapped girl’s left shoe slowly from her anxiously wriggling foot. “You’ll stay home, of course. We’ll have to live in my trailer for the first while but we’ll get somewhere nice. I like sundresses, you know the kind? Strapless, you’d look good on those. No shoes around the house, obviously. Then every night when I come home-“

-A shrill ringing echoed throughout the basement. Emma lay frozen, left shoe half-off her wincing foot. Whipping his head around Jason searched for the noise, a second ring and by the third all eyes were on Sheriff Mackleroy. The old man fumbled at his pants pocket, other hand holding one finger up to the room. From his pocket the sheriff fished a small flip-phone and he squinted trying to read the called I.D as it rang again.

“Hold on.” The sheriff said in a hushed tone, almost like he didn’t want the person on the other end to hear even though he hadn’t yet answered. With a click he snapped open the phone and pressed with some hesitance to his ear. “Ma’am…yes ma’am….understood.” The old man’s eyes looked up to Jason, then slowly shifted down to Emma. “Will do.” And he snapped the phone closed again. A short conversation and, judging by the look of unease across Mackleroy’s wrinkled face, not one that boded well for him.

“Who was it?” Jason said in that same hushed tone the sheriff had, like the phone was somehow still listening.

Mackleroy swallowed, tucking the phone back into his pocket with some haste. “You know who it was. Party’s over.”

“Aw, no!” The big lad put his hands up, half in a stop-signal, half pleading. “Mackleroy come on! Give me five minutes, just five-“

“-Nothing doing kid.” Said the old cowboy as he moved forward. “You know the drill.”

Jason’s shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh of abject frustration. For a brief second Emma felt some sense of relief, pushing her heel down to wriggle her foot back into the shoe. That relief soured as quickly as it had ripened, the sight of Mackleroy and his other two deputies advancing on her half naked body.

“Wait…” Emma squeaked, voice trembling as Jason reluctantly lumbered himself off of her. Looking up from the ground as the four officers surrounded her, the poor girl realized with a certainty that the phone call had not boded well at all, but it wasn’t Mackleroy or his deputies that were the ones in trouble. “Wait!” She squawked louder, the four of them all reaching down and grabbing at her limbs as she started to struggle. “Where are you taking me?!”

Chapter Ten: Stop The Press​

Where they took her, Emma knew, would undoubtedly be worse and she fought like hell to avoid it. Not that any of her efforts mattered in the end, if anything the furious redhead only tired herself. Handcuffed and alone versus four trained police officers, each one of the evil squad more physically imposing than her by half, she stood no chance. Outside the abandoned shack they’d sliced her shirt and bra, rendering her well and truly topless. A moment later a black bag was shoved over Emma’s head and from there it was a blur of movement and infinitely increasing terror.

Mackleroy and his deputies bundled their captive into the trunk of the sheriff’s car. At no point did she stop yelling, screaming and kicking for all she was worth. Once the trunk slammed with a definitive clunk, Emma searched frantically for some way to open it back up. The engine rumbled to life and off they went, bumping back down the narrow gravel road. Their journey wasn’t long, no more than twenty minutes, and not once did Emma cease her attempts at escape.

When the sheriff’s car stopped and the trunk opened, Emma threw her legs up and out. About as far from a violent person as one could get, in those frantic moments of blind dread the normally passive girl truly did hope to land a blow. Kick someone in the jaw or chest, preferably Jason Whitmore, if she had a choice. Large hands were on her again, the officers saying nothing as they forced her along, up two flights of stairs and around corners. They’d gone indoors and onto carpet, Emma could tell that much from under her hood.

Once they stopped there was a flurry of rough hands and forced movement, manhandled from one strange position to another. She felt the cushion of what had to be a mattress under her, wincing and pleading as the cuffs were loosened. They took her jeans and the frizzy haired girl made them work for it, bucking as they undid her belt-buckle and wrestling madly as the tight denim was peeled away. Her shoes followed a moment later, already unlaced and easily plucked away. Left in naught but thin ankle socks and white cotton panties, Emma was hauled up onto her knees as she continued to twist and scratch and kick. Logically she knew there was no escape, but logic has no place in a nightmare. When it was over, when the hands of the sheriff and his vile deputies finally released the buxom girl, her breath was racing so fast she kept sucking the hood back between her teeth.

Arms stretched overhead, Emma could barely move. Her voluptuous body, almost entirely nude, was pulled taut. Her wrists bound together in something soft yet just as inescapable as the handcuffs had been. Stood on her knees, the officers had pried her legs apart, and some form of thick strap was laid over the backs of her ankles. Cranked tight with a rhythmic clicking, the strap pushed Emma’s lower legs down into a silky sheet leaving her sock covered feet upturned and immovable. In vain the helpless girl plucked her fingers at the material tied around her wrists, only her hands and head able to make any measure of significant movement.

“See you soon.” Came Jason’s voice from the darkness as the officers shuffled away from their trembling prisoner. There was a gentle click of a door, and then silence.

Apparently alone, as best she could tell, Emma tried to calm herself. Holding her breath and pushing back the urge to sob uncontrollably she had to bring her heart rate down. Had to think. There was no way out, not through brute strength and even if there was it wasn’t a department the curvy girl had much weight in. No, if there was a way out it was going to be through yelling or pleading or fighting, it would be through reason. Reason and intuition are what lead Emma down that mad path in the first place, reading between the lines and seeing what other people had missed, or chose to ignore.

“Hello Miss Clark.” A woman’s voice, calm as a summer breeze and effortlessly smooth. There was a gentle stroke of fingers across the top of Emma’s head and she flinched. How her mysterious host had gotten so close without the captive girl realizing was more than a little peculiar. “I believe you’ve been wanting to meet me.” The woman said, and in one swift motion pulled the hood from her freckled prisoner’s head.

Anticipating a sudden brightness, Emma closed her eyes tight. Prying them open slowly what came into focus was not bright at all, instead warmly lit. Though the room had no windows it was otherwise luxurious down to every square inch, as masterful a master bedroom as the freckle-faced girl had ever imagined, and then some. A dark hardwood floor spread out before her, the bound girl only then realizing she was firmly tied at the very foot of an enormous four-poster bed. Across the vast expanse hardwood was a collection of neatly positioned and very expensive looking furniture, ornate carvings over the woodwork. Far to the right stood a tall door, the one Emma had be hustled through. Along the far left wall was another door. And not four feet directly in front of her stood the woman whose velvety voice had broken the silence.

She stood a foot taller than Emma and then some. Clad in severely tight black leather, the towering Japanese woman wore her jet-black hair in a preposterously strict bun. Staggeringly long legs appeared to have the leather all but painted on, so firmly sealed around the Amazon’s shapely butt the pants left almost nothing to the imagination. A sleeveless corset pushed the domineering host’s unavoidably heavy breasts up into a shameless display of magnificently fleshy cleavage. Had Emma not been forcibly bound to the woman’s bed, she would have taken a step or two back. Never had she met someone with such an immediately intimidating presence.

“Who…who are you?” The nearly nude girl managed to stammer, her trembling voice hardly loud enough to call it a whisper. Fear gripped her, deeply primal, instinctual fear. Even surrounded and handcuffed by Mackleroy and his deputies Emma had not been so afraid.

A wry smile crept slowly across her full lips before she spoke. “I’d been wondering if you’d figured that already.” She took a slow, oddly seductive step closer and tossed the hood onto the bed. It was then Emma noticed the Amazon wasn’t wearing shoes, slender bare feet padding silent as cat’s paws across the glossy wooden floor. “You are clever, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ve worked out where you are by now. I commend you, truly. You’ve gotten closer than anyone else has over the years, and believe me, many have tried.”

“Close to what?” Emma had to force the words out, finding it strangely difficult to speak.

“This.” Her stunningly green eyes shifted around the room. “Us. Everything.”

Her mind racing, the bare-breasted girl almost forgot she was bound and in her underwear. “The girl’s in white…Mr. Lucas…” She whispered, frowning as she tried to piece it all together. “And…you?”

“Jai Lin is my name. This is my house, as a matter of fact.”

It seemed strange then, inappropriate even, to ask any more questions. Learning the woman’s name bought Emma no closer to understanding what was going on after all. That brief pause in conversation also helped to remind the scantily clad girl of her dire predicament. Curious as she was to understand Jai Lin and her house of lunatics, at a certain point Emma had to start putting her own preservation first. Perhaps, she thought then, self-preservation was something she should have prioritized much earlier on. What had she been thinking, a cripplingly ticklish young woman heading out to investigate people who prey on cripplingly ticklish young women? And now, doing what the worst of journalists do, Emma had made herself part of the story.

“Incidentally-” Jai Lin said, her voice causing a sudden flutter of butterflies in the redhead’s stomach. “-our mutual friend, young master Whitmore, has asked my permission to make you his wife.”

Swallowing hard, Emma trusted the horrified expression on her face did more to convey her repulsion toward the idea than any words could.

Jai Lin smirked and made a soft noise, something between a laugh and a purr. “He does tend to have that effect, doesn’t he? Not the sharpest tool, but Mr. Whitmore does have his uses.”

“I’ll never marry him.” The bound girl said shakily. “I don’t care what you say.”

“He has potential.” Said the tall woman, seeming to ignore her captive’s defiant attitude. “But I understand your reluctance. Anyway, a conversation for another day.” Jai Lin pointed one long nail at the hopelessly exposed redhead. “We have more pressing matters to discuss.”

“I-I’ll go away.” Emma said. It wasn’t quite the brilliant negotiating tactic she had hoped for but then she hadn’t planned to be so taken off-guard by her distractingly disarming capturer. “I’ll go back, I…I won’t ever come back, I swear! I won’t tell anyone!”

“You’ll never return home? Never visit your parents?” Jai Lin tilted her head to one side, a knowing look that said neither she nor Emma believed a word of it. “No, even if you meant it….even if you truly thought you’d leave all of this behind you, I don’t think it would last. You’re a tenacious young woman Miss Clark.”

“No, please! You don’t have to do this!”

“Sooner or later you wouldn’t be able to leave well enough alone. And now you know my name…”

“I-I-“ Emma stuttered, nothing of use coming to mind.

“I’d like to introduce you to someone…” The statuesque woman raised her voice a little as she glanced toward the far-left door. “Aleena, would you come in here please?”

Emma had expected another young woman, instead Aleena appeared much closer to Jai Lin’s age. Early, maybe mid forties, with a curvy figure and a looser fitting outfit than the others. White cloth, just like the catsuits, but the top and pants were draped over her body rather than plastered to it. She stood a few inches taller than Emma, with wide hips, dark skin and long brown hair. The obedient new arrival closed the door behind her as gently as she had opened it. Turning into the room her big brown eyes looked over to the bound redhead and the domineering Amazon, expression unchanging. Not the first time Aleena had seen such a sight, Emma supposed. As she wandered closer, slippers shuffling gently across the smooth floor, there appeared to be a sadness about her. Something in the eyes Emma couldn’t quite place, a far away look, like her thoughts were constantly elsewhere.

Jai Lin stroked her long, slender fingers through Aleena’s wavy hair as she came to stand alongside her. “Aleena here used to be a lot like you.” She said, looking her expressionless servant up and down. “Full of fire and stubbornness. Caused us quite a bit of trouble back then. Long time ago now though…wasn’t it?”

“Yes Madam.” Aleena said, eyes on the floor.

“Still, we persevered. Through many long hours and arduous training, and the occasional reminder, Aleena became one of my trusted assistants.” The tall woman’s piercing jade eyes moved to Emma. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Taking a shaky breath, the topless redhead was fairly certain she got the message. “You...you tortured her.”

One corner of Jai Lin’s lips piqued as she gave the barest incline of a nod. “Truth be told, Miss Clark, I’ve not yet decided what to do with you. We’ll be spending a great of time together for the next while-“

“People know where I am!” Emma cut the Amazon off. She wished she’d thought of it earlier but the idea seemed better late than never. “My editor, my mom! They’ll come looking!”

“Please.” Jai Lin made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Even if that were true, what are they going to do hmm? Ask the local police for help?”

“You CAN’T do this! I’m serious! Yo-“

“I’ll tell you what.” It was the Amazon’s turn to interrupt. “I’m to tickle you, that is inevitable. What I decide to do with you beyond that I’ll leave up to you.” She waved a dismissive hand in front of her captive. “No more silly lies. No more attempts to bargain. If you can do that I’ll keep you here, you can live a life of…relative pleasure. But any more games, one word out of your mouth that isn’t the absolute truth, and I will see you wed to Jason Whitmore. Forever his plaything, until death do you part.”

She’d tried to hold it together, she really had, but right then Emma’s bottom lip began to quiver. Short sharp breaths shook her bare breasts and water welled at the corners of her eyes. Looking up at her neatly bound hands, the trapped girl gave a futile tug. Maybe it was a self-inflated opinion of her own smarts but it hadn’t been until that moment Emma felt truly, undeniably defeated. On the floor of that dank basement, in the trunk of the sheriff’s car, even bound on Jai Lin’s bed, Emma had held out some belief that she could think her way free. She had always been a thinker and proud of it, perhaps too proud. And now they were going to take her mind.

“No…no…” The watery-eyed girl squeaked. Jai Lin was coming toward her, both hands raised and ten long fingernails poised for havoc. Emma’s arm muscles shook and she sucked her midriff in, a last desperate effort to escape the advancing digits of doom. “No no nonono!”

Stubborn, determined, ambitious. Righteous. These were the words Emma liked to describe herself as. Or at least the words she strived to live up to. When the first of Jai Lin’s sharp talons swiped the underside of Emma’s ribs, a few more words came to mind. Coward. Selfish. Terrified little girl.

“Eie! Mmff! Pleaseno!” Trying to turn away the tightly tied girl was horrified to find she could barely wriggle an inch. Looking wide eyed at Aleena, the dutiful servant only stared unwaveringly to the ground. “Please no!” Emma squealed, there was nothing else to say. Dignity and careful thought were a thing of the past. Seeing her future in the docile brunett, the redhead was more afraid of ending up like that than anything else.

“What would you do to stop me, I wonder…” Jai Lin teased as she danced two claws down each of the giggling girl’s sides. “…would you tickle Aleena? Hm? If you could trade places, if it meant an end to this, would you do that for me?”

“Eieheehe! Noho!” Twitching her hips the freckled girl tried and tried to suppress the stupid grin that wouldn’t stop spreading across her face.

“I believe you.” The statuesque woman said before running five fingers across her prisoner’s lower tummy. “Let’s see if you give the same answer in an hour.”

“No I won’t IEHEHEHE!” High-pitched giggles cut off Emma’s words as ten fingernails suddenly ran wild all over her abdomen.

Squealing unstoppably, the effect of Jai Lin’s nails was hard to believe. Emma knew far better than she would have liked what it felt like to be tickled across her tummy, and it had never before felt like that. Each stroke flew with a feathery grace, a teasing touch that was so overwhelming the poor girl could barely form a single coherent syllable. Shrill laughter poured out of her, far louder and far more intense that she would have ever thought possible from such a deceptively simple assault.

Fiery red hair flew every which way as the helpless girl strained. Her face twisted from agonized to crazed and everywhere in between. A wide open-mouthed grin contorted Emma’s lips, melting into a miserable wail and back to that terrified smile, laughter never fading. Jai Lin’s impossibly deft touch skittered across the tops of the buxom girl’s hips, along the elastic of her panties and back up the center of her heaving tummy. After several long, hellish minutes, Emma could confidently say she had never in her life been tickled so horribly, if in fact she could have said anything at all.

After suffering the worst few minutes of her life Emma might have imagined a break, even a short one, might be in order. Just a small, merciful moment to collect her thoughts. A measly few seconds to try and comprehend what was happening to her. Emma might have imagined such a thing if all her thoughts were not already occupied by the unbearable tickling and abject fear of her sanity slowly slipping away. Evidently Jai Lin had no interest in letting the frenzied redhead think of anything else as her skillful fingers clawed wildly at the girl’s supple ribcage.

“HAHAHA! AAAHAHEEHEE!” The topless girl screamed, shrill belly laughter exploding from deep within.

In her bewildered state Emma caught flashes of the world around her. Jai Lin’s full lips, ever-so-slightly perked with a tiny smile. Those brilliantly green eyes, equally as unnerving as they were captivating. Wiggling fingers spidered along the underside of the redhead’s bulbous jiggling boobs and as she squealed she caught a glimpse of the servant woman, Aleena. If Aleena had moved at all it hadn’t been much, standing idly by as her mistress worked her sadistic task. It was almost comforting, in a perverse way, having someone in the room who had suffered the same way as Emma was. Almost comforting, until considering how much the poor woman must have been through, then Aleena’s presence was more a dreaded vision of the future. A lost soul. Everything that once made her a person tortured away.

Five fingers raked savagely into the redhead’s stretched underarms. In the same moment thick tears started pouring down her freckled cheeks. Crying from the tickling, crying for Aleena and for the idea that in the not-too-distant future Emma was going to end up just like her. The tips of Jai Lin’s razor sharp claws skated all over the crazed girl’s silky hollows, not a single second of respite given as her anguished laughter filled the room. How much time had passed Emma could not say, she knew only that the Amazon’s wicked talons had not left her skin since it began.

An hour, that’s what Jai Lin had said. The stark memory of the Amazon’s sultry voice played over and over in Emma’s rattled mind. A full hour before the ultimatum would be offered again and as those ten terrible talons frolicked across her bouncing breasts the squealing girl found no reason not to believe it. Certainly it felt like an hour, maybe hours, had passed already. Maybe only a few minutes had truly gone by, in any event Emma was more than ready to give a different answer now.

Aleena was a tragic shell of a person, there was no doubt, and the thought of making the poor creature suffer any further sickened Emma to her core. Still, as Jai Lin’s menacingly skilled fingers ran rampant back down along her abdomen, the helpless prisoner would have done just the same to Aleena if it meant freedom. Hell, in those long fits of hyperticklishness the horrible truth was Emma longed to do it, to put someone else in her place, anyone would do. Anything to not have her excruciatingly sensitive flesh stroked, poked and prodded for a single second longer.

With a flutter of five nails against the ravaged redhead’s left bosom, Jai Lin took a step back. “Be a dear and give me Miss Clark some water, won’t you?”

Like a well trained pet, Aleena gave a quick nod and turned immediately toward a cabinet on the other side of the room. While the timid servant shuffled away, Emma gasped and sobbed, tears dripping from her chin. Her face bright red, underarms covered in pink trails, ribs and tummy fairing no better. Beads of sweat glistened across the redhead’s brow, jaw working overtime as she wept and panted. It had not been an hour, not even close.

“I’ll do-uhuh-I’ll do-ahuh-I’ll do it!” Emma blubbered, whimpering the words as she forced them out.

“You’ll do what?” Jai Lin asked, her calm demeanor a great deal more frightening now that she had shown what she was capable of.

The guilt, god help her, the guilt. Emma couldn’t even look up from the floor, eyes blurred with tears as she strained to say each treacherous word. “I’ll…I’ll tickle her…Aleena…”

“Ohhh!” The sadistic woman cooed, a wide grin easily heard in her cheerful tone. “Did you hear that Aleena? Our guest wishes to switch places with you.”

“Yes Madam.” Aleena said, one hand busy retrieving a small bottle of water from the cabinet.

“And while you’re being so kind fetching her a drink too. Tut tut, Miss Clark, tut tut!”

“No…no I-“ Emma began, hating herself for agreeing to trade places and hating herself even more for not realizing sooner it was all a cruel mind game.

“You’ve certainly shown your true colours, haven’t you?” Jai Lin said, playing up the apparent injustice of the disheveled girl’s desperate decision. “And it hasn’t even been an hour! Goodness me. I dare say we’ll have to rescind our kind offer and punish you accordingly.”

Emma’s heart sunk, there was no winning here. Aleena approached holding the water bottle up and as she did the topless prisoner could only shake. Of course they were never going to let her trade places, Jai Lin was always going to find some loophole or reason for Emma to remain in bondage. The goal, the only goal, was to make her suffer and they were clearly masters at that. Even though she would have tried anything, taken any thread of hope no matter how tenuous, the humiliated girl felt terribly foolish. There was no getting out and the thought was one so abominable Emma could scarcely wrap her mind around it.

“Drink.” Jai Lin poked her ponderous plaything less than a inch from her belly button.

“Eei!” The redhead jerked sharply, her girlish squeak making for a brief interlude among the trembling sobs.

“Driiiink.” Another quick poke, this time with a teasing little wiggle of the fingertip to accompany it.

“Eeiyaha!”

“Drink Emma…” Jai Lin sang, two long nails running across her painfully ticklish lower tummy.

“Eehee! Noho! Stop!” Emma looked up, her blushing face twisting from stupid giggling to furious anger. “Stop it!”

Looking directly into Jai Lin’s penetrating gaze the flustered girl found her burst of fury turn suddenly sheepish. “My dear, you need to drink.” Said the commandingly beautiful woman. “I’m sure you don’t want to offend me, do you?”

Beautiful? Why was Emma, cheeks soaked with tears and bound against her will, why on earth did she did think for a moment this psychotic woman was beautiful? She was insane, evil of the highest order, Jai Lin didn’t have servants, she had slaves. Slaves! Emma must have already been out of her mind to think the green eyed goddess was even remotely attractive. And what was she doing thinking about such things anyway in her current state? Yet, as Emma puckered her lips to accept the bottle of water, she found it all but impossible to pry her eyes from Jai Lin’s terrifying stare.

Guzzling the water, the bewildered girl felt the most unnerving mixture of desires. A desire to be free, to run and run and get away from Jai Lin and all her wickedness. And, strange and frustrating beyond reckoning, Emma felt a desire to please the striking mistress. To roll over like a good little pet and submit to her owner’s every whim. It had to be fear, the frazzled girl thought as she let the bottle slid from her plump bottom lip, there was other explanation. Emma would never have thoughts of being owned, being dominated, not unless she was terrified into it. Peculiar then, that in the darkest and most well hidden parts of her studious mind, a vile little light of lust was beginning to shine.

“Now, isn’t that better?” Jai Lin said like she was the kindest, most charitable soul that ever walked and then drove a single long claw into the buxom captive’s belly button.

“NYAAOHOHO!” Thrashing violently, the devastatingly ticklish girl wailed as her stomach muscles tightened. Thick tears streamed anew down Emma’s stretched cheeks, her naked breasts jiggling as they gleamed slick with hot sweat. Deep in her distressingly sensitive navel the very tip of the Amazon’s sharp nail wiggled at great speed. Such a tiny movement performed by a single finger, but one that the redhead couldn’t fight from driving her into cackling hysterics.

While Emma tugged and pulled at her bindings, her muscles strained and stomach heaved as she screamed with laughter. Hardly able to notice in her tickle-mad state, the busty girl could barely concentrate as Jai Lin’s other hand crept slyly up her flexing thigh. With a single finger, the counterpart of the digit tormenting the redhead’s navel, the older woman hooked the elastic of her victim’s cotton panties and stretched it outward. Catching only frantic flashes of the delicate operation, Emma could do nothing but squeal and thrash as Aleena revealed a small pair of scissors. With a quick snip one side of the frantic girl’s panties split in two, her desperate wriggling struggles causing the other side to slide unceremoniously down her other thigh.

That was it then, with the exception of her thin cotton socks Emma was entirely naked. Ruined panties dangling around one bent knee, the poor girl’s sense of vulnerability caused no end of chaos. In what she would have previously thought impossible, somehow in the very instant her panties fell away Emma felt debilitatingly more sensitive. In the midst of her hyperticklish fervor, coupled with her newfound sense of helpless exposure, the crazed girl’s little lustful light shined a great deal brighter. When that ruthless fingertip at last left her belly button the frustratingly confused redhead could feel a familiar and most unwelcome warmth, right behind the short hairs of her fiery red bush.

Before Emma had even begun to try and compose herself, Aleena was already climbing up onto the bed. There was little point in questioning why, nothing good would come of whatever her captors had planned next. So far as the stark nude girl could see in that moment nothing good would ever come again. While Aleena crawled behind Emma, Jai Lin was strolling over to a small, ornately designed set of drawers. Though they were in the same room, the sweat-soaked and heavily panting redhead felt a world away from her sadistic tormentress. Elegant, every movement one of calculated precision, there was not a single move Jai Lin made without complete control.

Emma found an odd sense of envy as she swallowed back tears. She hated and feared the terrifying woman, lusted for her, longed to be commanded by her, and wanted to be her. Striding around all confidence and power, beautiful women bending to her every inclination. Not a fantasy Emma had ever entertained, nor even thought to imagine, such was the mystifying effect of Jai Lin.

Gathering back some small amount of humanity, the weary young woman looked back over one shoulder as best she could. Out the corner of her eye Emma could just make out Aleena, kneeling idly behind her. While it certainly didn’t escape her notice that the older brunette was sitting right in front of her upturned feet, she otherwise sat with no obvious intent. Same blank stare across her smooth features, Aleena simply sat there. Waiting, no doubt, for her mistress’ next irrefusable command.

“Ah!” Emma let out a startled gasp as she turned back to find Jai Lin standing directly in front of her.

“Worried about your feet?” The seductively frightening woman smiled coyly. “You needn’t worry about those quite yet. Here…“ She held up a tablet, the screen set on a perfectly ordinary looking desktop. “…I have something to show you.”

“Eeii!” A loud squeal burst from the redhead’s lips as she thrust herself forward. Before she could figure out what happened, it happened again. “Eiehee!” Emma squawked, something was touching her butt. Her curvaceous round cheeks, bare and protruding out from the tops of her thighs. Aleena was pinching her. “Eiiiee! Ohno!”

They were tiny, quick pinches, just with the tips of her nails. One on the far side of the squeaking girl’s right cheek, another along the bottom of her left. Spaced out by a half second each, every new nip was more alarming the one before it. Bewilderingly, Emma was coming to the mortifying realization that her milky white behind was embarrassingly, hopelessly ticklish.

“Would you mind concentrating?” Jai Lin held the tablet up with one hand, a mock look of annoyance on her face. “I said I have something to show you.”


“I caheeiee! I can’t!” Dancing her hips erratically, the fitful girl tried pursing her lips. “Eie! Aleehee! Aleena!” Emma giggled, her libido bubbling up a lewd brew of perversion as another naughty pinch came dangerously close to her butt crack. “Shehee! She’s ticking me!”

“Is she now?” The tall woman raised one of her dark, well-maintained eyebrows. “Well if you can’t pay attention I might just have to join her. Would you like that?”

“Nohee!”

“Be a good girl then.”

“I’m sorreeiie!” Emma squealed and sucked her lips in tight. Her eyes went wide and her body continued to spasm with every unstoppable pinch. New tickled tears welled in the nude girl’s eyes, groaning as she winced and strained to hold back the helpless laughter. The game was rigged, Emma knew it, and somehow that devastating knowledge was setting her unwanted lust ablaze.

“Now then…” Jai Lin held up the screen so her wildly twitching captive could see it. Hovering one slender finger over the screen, the busty sadist searched for the right icon. “Ah, here we go. ‘Live Feed’.” She said, and tapped the screen.

Stifling her giggles behind firmly pursed lips, Emma watched as a video took over the entire screen of the tablet. It was a birds-eye view and for the first few seconds, her ongoing butt tickling not withstanding, it took the hopelessly flinching girl a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. An operating room maybe, clinically clean wherever it was, floors and walls all stark white. There were girls in white too, Jai Lin’s girls in their catsuits and a fair few of them. Two groups in fact, six each surrounding two separate tables. The tables were strange, X-shaped and adorned with thick leather straps. Strapped firm to the tables were two women, face up, their naked bodies held spread-eagled. They had blindfolds on and black ball gags in their mouths and the girls in white were tickling them mercilessly.

Standing either side of the gagged women’s fully exposed upper bodies were four girls, two on each woman’s left and two on each woman’s right. Forty collective fingers stroked, teased and poked at the trapped women’s convulsing torsos, nails dancing in pinkened underarms and around reddened tummies. Their glistening nude frames shook and twitched, flinching and flexing from the onslaught of eagerly exploring fingertips. Nearer the bottom of the screen stood the remaining four girls-in-white, each one attending to a helpless bare foot each. Toes were stretched back and defenseless soles were raked with fingernails, frantically wriggling feet tried uselessly to escape the ten fingers always on them. Then, Emma noticed, one of the blindfolded women had the most familiar dirty blonde hair. Come to think of it, the other one’s hair looked strangely recognizable too, long and jet black.

“Who-eheee! Who are they?” Emma said shakily, fearful she already knew the answer.

“I think you know.”

“Y-you’re lying! Ehee! D-Deena’s not-she’s not-“

“Ticklish?” Jai Lin finished for her unwilling guest. “She is now.”

“NO!” The redhead gasped, her voice thick with dread and quickly undercut by another crude pinch to the bottom of her bare ass. “Eehee! Noho! No! What have you done?!”

“Me?” Jai Lin looked at the screen like she was as surprised as anyone by what was on show. “I’m not the one who involved them, am I?”

“Eeehe! STOP IT!” Emma shrieked, snapping her head around to make sure Aleena got the message. If she got the message it went ignored, another pinch snipping at the very edge of her butt crack. “Ehehee! Ohno! Not them!” She turned back to Jai Lin, every bit of the redhead’s shock and anger constantly punctuated by mindless giggling. “They didn’t do anything! Aheehe! Let them go! Eiieehestop!”

“You’re right, they didn’t do anything.” Jai Lin said plainly. “It’s your fault they’re here. You dragged them into this.”

True or not, Emma didn’t have the mental capacity in that moment to argue the finer points of who should be blamed for what. Aleena pinched the redhead’s butt again and again, each time she squealed and jumped. Frustrating though the tickling on the flustered girl’s behind was, it hardly compared to the paralyzing remorse she felt coursing across her every nerve. With her teary eyes locked on the screen Emma’s jaw trembled, crushed by the sorrow of her friends’ ongoing torment. There was no need to see the look in their eyes or hear their screams, the regret-stricken girl knew Wendy and Deena were suffering atrocities no human should have to endure.

“YOU’RE MONSTERS!” The weeping girl thrashed, voice cracking as she jerked hard at her unflinching bonds.

Still holding the tablet so her captive could keep watching, Jai Lin leaned forward ever so slightly. “Yes, and I eat little girls like you for breakfast.”

Flashing a parting smile, the long legged woman placed the tablet on the bed beside Emma and strode off around to one side of the bed. With movement behind her, the mattress shifting with weight, the nude girl wanted to look back. Instead, against her better judgment, she couldn’t help but crane her neck downward and stare at the video of her tortured friends. Wendy and Deena, neither should have been there. It was Emma’s idea to pursue the story, Emma’s risk. Deena wasn’t even supposed to be ticklish, and now she was soaked in sweat, face beet red, muscles straining as sixty collective fingertips ran rampant over her naked body.

Not wanting to watch but unable to look away, the redhead followed the screen as Aleena picked it up. Standing before her, the forty-something year old woman held the tablet less than a foot from Emma’s face. Even if she had tried to look away the image of her friends being driven out of their minds would always be somewhere in her field of vision. She could have closed her eyes except, in her most reprehensible act on an ever-growing list of heinous sins, Emma found she was growing quite wet between her quivering thighs. Small, breathy sobs sent guilty tears down the sordid girl’s freckled cheeks and she bit her bottom lip. Maybe she really did deserve to be punished.

“Enjoying the show?” Jai Lin said, snapping the captive’s attention back to her own abysmal predicament.

“Let them go!” Emma cried, almost as horrified by her unruly libido as she was the barbarity her poor friends were being subjected to. “Please! They’ll go mad!”

“Mad? No no.” The villainous woman was sat cross-legged behind the bound girl, her own long bare feet upturned atop her knees. “My girls have clear instructions to only bring Miss Starr and Miss Tripp to the brink of their sanity.” One of Jai Lin’s slender fingers hooked under the rim of Emma’s small white sock. “You on the other hand…”

Looking back quickly over one shoulder, Emma could still the video out the corner of one eye. Out the corner of her other eye was an even more distressing sight as Jai Lin slowly peeled one sock over the redhead’s marshmallowy soft heel. Pushing the top of her tiny foot into the mattress as best she could made little difference, if any. With painstaking force the evil Amazon was easily able to slide the sock down over Emma’s buttery smooth arch and the tender balls of her foot. Tiny beads of involuntary arousal were beginning to glisten upon the red bush between her thighs, a feeling that made the nude girl’s toes curl as much as the fear.

With a flick of her wrist Jai Lin tossed the small sock aside, Emma’s tiny toes as naked as the rest of her. Paralyzed by fear and confusion, the buxom girl could only watch on wide-eyed as her domineering mistress began the same process with her other ankle sock. Thin as they were, the small socks would have done little good to protect her. Even so the frizzy haired girl only realized how much comfort the little pieces of cotton had provided once they were cruelly stripped away. Bare foot and bound, under the seductive spell of a heartlessly sadist whose only intent was to tickle her. If Emma had lived to a thousand years old she never once could have imagined such a hellish scenario.

“Exquisite.” Jai Lin purred and ran the tip of her tongue across her top lip.

Emma looked away, she couldn’t watch. Her eyes focused on the tablet, Wendy and Deena locked into their own tragic torments. Shutting her eyes tight the redhead winced, just a moment to block out the world around, she needed that at least. In the darkness, trying to think of anything else but how excruciatingly ticklish her feet were, Emma was reminded with a warm swell that her arousal had grown into a five alarm fire. Alone with her disobedient libido, Jai Lin and her ilk were monsters no doubt but what did that make Emma? Turned on after being tortured, turned on even more so seeing her friends in ticklish turmoil. The same friends she couldn’t help feeling were only in their nightmares because of her.

Using a touch so light it would not disturb tissue paper, Jai Lin ran the tip of one long fingernail over her captive’s tender right heel. Emma’s voluptuous body tensed, teeth clenched and toes spread. Her eyes shot wide and her head arched back. No matter how bad the busty girl’s anxious anticipation made her think being tickled would be, it was always unfathomably worse.

“NOHH!” The poor girl thrashed again, gasping the word out in one giant strained breath as another nail grazed her other heel. Emma didn’t want to plead or beg. It would make no difference and she wanted some final measure of dignity before the true savagery began. Sadly, much like her incorrigible arousal, some part of the studious girl’s mind had other ideas. “OH NO PLEASE! PLEASE PLEASE! I’M SORRY!”

“Sorry?” The devious Amazon swiped a teasing talon across the desperate girl’s wrinkled arch.

“EIEE! I’LL DO ANYTHING! I’LL MARRY JASON!” Emma squawked, her mind reeling, no idea what insane bit of madness might spill out of her next. Marrying Jason Whitmore was about the most abhorrent idea the pleading girl could think of, or certainly in the top ten after the day she’d had so far. Every time one of Jai Lin’s claws touched her bare sole what was a dreadful idea a second ago suddenly became all too appetizing. If Emma could avoid any more of the Amazon’s skillful fingers teasing her vulnerable soles, the sad truth was she would have slapped a ring on then and there.

“You do understand, of course…” Jai Lin swept a lone fingernail across the shrieking girl’s instep. “…that whoever Mr. Whitmore marries will be spending a great deal of time here.” Another nail dragged along the balls of one foot made the redhead screech appallingly loud. “In fact, it might be more convenient for everyone concerned if I simply keep you here.”

“NONO PLEASE! NOT ME!” The bewildered girl’s voice was cracking with the stress of it all and her mind wasn’t far behind. On the screen in front of her she could see exactly what it meant to be kept by Jai Lin. “I’LL BE GOOD!”

“Perhaps I’ll let Aleena retire, what do you think?” The ruthless woman stroked five nails gently down the back of her struggling captive’s calf muscle. “She’s been through so much over the years…and you’d make a fine replacement.”

In the instant before those five lazily wandering nails meandered onto Emma’s delicate sole, she noticed Aleena’s expression change for the first time. If the redhead would have blinked she’d have missed it, just a twitch in the older woman’s face muscles. An almost imperceptible furrow of her brow. Was Aleena disturbed by the idea of losing her position, or did the suggestion of finally being free light a spark somewhere in her? Emma had no time to truly consider it as less than a second later Jai Lin’s five fingers were scrambling all over her torturously ticklish bare foot.

“NYYYIIEEEGHAHAHA!” Emma howled, volcanic blasts of misery and carnality devastating her helpless, naked body. As someone hopelessly, haplessly hyperticklish, the berserk girl had some assurance she knew how awful being tickled could be. With Jai Lin’s long nails scribbling up and down her upturned sole, the petit girl then knew her assurances meant next to nothing. What Emma really understood about being terribly ticklish then seemed laughably childish compared to the hard lesson her Amazonian mistress was teaching her.

Her thoughts shattering, the manically cackling girl’s blurred world caught glimpses of Wendy and Deena on the video. At the bottom of the screen were only two girls now instead of four. The two remaining girls-in-white stood squarely between Wendy and Deena’s feet, arms spread out to each side, five fingers dancing endlessly over their frantically wriggling soles. A little higher up the screen Emma saw the missing girls, both on their knees between her friends’ thighs, faces buried deep against soaking bare pussies. While their tongues worked overtime the girls’ hands did not rest idle either, pinching at Wendy’s gyrating ass and squeezing Deena’s bouncing hips.

Emma should have been horrified, beside herself with concern and anger. Instead whatever conscious filter controlled the redhead’s sense of morality had been destroyed, tickled away, leaving only her most raw and primal responses. Her fiery bush all but soaked, the screaming girl’s thick thighs drizzled with clear arousal. A second group of vicious fingernails descended onto her other foot and Emma’s tiny body thrashed so violently she made the giant wooden bed creak.

After a full minute of having Jai Lin’s expertly skilled fingers frolicking around her bare soles, Emma could no longer make sense of reality. Fractured thoughts whirled through her tortured mind. Her vision had become a tear-blurred mess of colours only made worse by the constant shaking of her head. Mercifully, if there was such a thing anymore, Aleena had put down the tablet. No longer did the feverishly horny redhead have to suffer the perverse delight of seeing her friends’ torment. Of course relieving Emma of that terrible sight wasn’t done out of charity, only in service of something worse. Aleena appeared in the squealing girl’s tortured vision, the older woman’s nimble fingers suddenly spidering all over her painfully erect nipples.

Until that moment Emma had not even realized how swollen her areoles had become, puffy pink beacons of dangerously lewd sensitivity. With Aleena’s fingertips skating around her nipples, pinching and pulling with maddening skill, the deranged girl could no longer ignore them. Coupled with Jai Lin’s hellish nails working their way all over Emma’s bare soles and the poor girl’s whole body was a hurricane of obscene pleasure and unbearable torture.

Jai Lin’s devious claws dug down under her frenzied plaything’s tiny toes and it was then the raving young woman passed the point of no return. A storm of mind numbing tingles raged up the back of Emma’s flexing thighs, her shapely bouncing ass cheeks and along her spine. Her pussy throbbed, simultaneously longing for touch and far too sensitive for even the most gentle caress. Aleena’s hands clawed rapidly down the redhead’s ribcage and down her sweat-slick sides, the sudden attack of horrid tickling causing a white-hot glow in her lower tummy. Dropping her knees forward to lean on the end of the bed, the older woman reached around and groped forcefully at Emma’s big round butt cheeks. That sudden shock on her hyperticklish ass caused the buxom girl to thrust forward, her drenched pussy unintentionally coming into immediate contact with Aleena’s waiting lips.

“AIIHHEE!” A flickering wet tongue tip slid over the helpless girl’s clit and she wailed with inhuman agony. Emma jerked backwards but there was no escape, Aleena’s mouth was planted firm over her steaming hot pussy. That white-hot glow in her lower tummy burst outward, annihilating every nerve ending in it’s path. Rocking ferociously like a caged beast, the busty journalist’s orgasm was altogether more blissful and more terrible than anything she could have previously imagined.

Turbulent in the extreme, Emma squirted burst after soaking burst over Aleena’s busily maneuvering face. Screaming laughter was interjected with hoarse cries of unwanted passion, the shrieking girl’s butt and feet relentlessly teased throughout the entire orgasmic ordeal. Clawing mindlessly at the silk bonds around her wrists, the manic redhead let out a piercing cry as another explosive orgasm followed hot on the heels of the first. Carnal ecstasy melted one orgasm into another, the uncontrolled waves of pleasure combining into one titanically ticklish nightmare.

Every tiny nerve ending throughout Emma’s naked body was propelled into sensitivity-overdrive as her mind numbing orgasms caused every square inch of skin to be unfathomably ticklish. Without a fraction of a coherent thought to steer the wheel the crazed girl’s severely heightened ticklishness was making her libido take full, unchecked control. Like an impish demon intent on nothing but chaos Emma’s arousal engulfed her every pore. A single finger stroke would have sent shivers up her spine, as it was there were twenty deft fingertips running wild over her sweat-slicked flesh and a long wet tongue flickering over her overly sensitive clit.

Feathery light fingernails fluttered down the inner sides of the naked journalist’s butt cheeks and the spasm caused her to cum a third, shrieking time. Utterly unyielding in their assault the twenty fingers had left Emma no doubt that a person could truly, genuinely be tickled far out of their mind. Done long enough and often enough anyone would go quite mad, though the bewildered girl doubted it would take long for her to go over the edge of sanity. A fourth orgasm sent the petit redhead into a wheezing, squeaking state, almost silent as her curvy body convulsed.

For how long Jai Lin and Aleena tickled her for, or how many inescapable orgasms they forced her through, Emma did not know. Gone was Emma Clark, the studious and determined novice investigator, gone were her wits and memories and knowledge of anything beyond her own flesh. Her world was one of endless, infinite tickling, evermore ticklish with each outrageous orgasm. Not a patch of the freckled-faced girl’s curvy body remained its usual pale white, instead her skin had turned entirely bright red and hot to the touch. Glistening with sweat from the top of her brow to her wearily wiggling toes Emma had become whimpering, disheveled shadow of her former self.

“…Miss Clark….oh Miss Clark…” Emma heard someone say, like a distant voice in the darkness. “Miss Clark...wake up now…come on dear…” She knew that voice, as sultry as it was terrifying. “Wake up or we’re going to have to start all over again…”

“…mmrr…? Barely conscious, the exhausted girl murmured. Reality, if that is indeed where she was, was not returning fast.

“Come on now…” Emma felt fingers on her chin, gentle and caring, guiding her dangling head upward.

“Uhh…” Wearily the weakened redhead opened her eyes. Jai Lin stood before her, thumb and index finger helping to prop her captive’s head upright. She was still nude, still tied to the great big bed. How long Emma had been out she couldn’t guess, cold sweat stuck hair to her face but her skin still glowed red. Maybe she hadn’t even been unconscious, it was hard to tell as her mind tried to grip at the world around her like a grabbing handfuls of paint. Her stomach and jaw ached from laughter, the poor girl’s thighs still quivering and sinfully sticky. The soles of Emma’s tiny feet, bright pink from heel to toe, were tingling and despite her abysmal state the strange sensation was causing an odd glimmer in her loins.

“There you are.” Jai Lin said, offering up a bottle of water. The tortured young woman knew well enough by the then to not disobey as she greedily guzzled back mouthfuls and was thankful for it. “Good girl. Now then, can you speak?”

“Ah!” She gasped as the bottle was taken away, water dribbling over her plump bottom lip. Hardly the most dignified look but then it wasn’t worth worrying about given the redhead’s overall image. “…yes.” She managed to squeak.

“Aleena and I are content to keep going.” The ruthless older woman said as she handed the half empty bottle to her dutiful servant. Emma hadn’t even notice Aleena was standing there until that moment. “However, I’d be willing to let you free on one condition.” Jai Lin raised a single eyebrow. No doubt the cost would be great, impossible even, but the unkempt girl was desperately eager to do anything that would keep tickling fingers off of her.

“I’ll do it!” Emma blurted out, even as she doubted the offer was real, surely she would be tortured again.

The seductive Amazon smirked. “Your friends are still downstairs…” As Jai Lin spoke her assistant picked up the tablet and turned the screen toward Emma. Deena and Wendy were on screen, still strapped to their tables. Surrounding them were the dozen girls all holding a pair of feathers each. Two dozen long white feathers danced and stroked their soft fronds over the trapped girls’ naked bodies, every curve and crevice explored over and over again. How her lost friends were still enduring such torment Emma didn’t know, other than that as they convulsed and twitched it was clear neither of them had a choice. While Emma watched on with renewed horror, Jai Lin continued her devil’s deal. “I’ll untie you…let you free…all you have to do is go down there…and help.”

“…what?” Her eyes not leaving the terrible sight on screen, the redhead’s jaw trembled.

“Help my girls tickle your friends.” The effortlessly evil woman said plainly.

“I…I can’t…” Emma wept, not entirely convinced of her own words. “…not that…please not that…”

“It’s that-“ Jai Lin was giving a mockery of a helpless shrug. “-or I’ll have your friends come up here and tickle you instead. And believe me when I say, after the day they’ve had, they’ll both be more than willing to oblige. Especially since…you know…”

Emma did know. Since the entire reason Wendy and Deena were there in the first place was entirely her fault. That old chestnut guilt, her old friend, it gripped at the redhead’s chest. Looking back there was a lot Emma wished could be undone. Leaving Deena for the wolves when they’d run, or letting Deena convince her to trespass. Emma was stubborn enough and it wasn’t like she knew Deena all that well. She could have refused, couldn’t she? She could have done a lot of things, like not involving Wendy, at least until she knew more. If only Emma had run for help those years before instead of sitting and listening to Mr. Lucas and Jason Whitmore torture poor Wendy. An atrocious thought occurred to Emma then, as she hung there bound to Jai Lin’s bed; Perhaps it wasn’t just cowardice that had stopped her from running that day. Perhaps some small, awful, unforgivable part of Emma had enjoyed hearing Wendy’s screams.

The redhead mouthed the words, unable to put any power behind them. “…I’ll do it…” God, the guilt. A funny pulse trembled between the nude girl’s thighs at the thought of what she had to do. There was no real choice though…was there?

“I’m sorry?” Jai Lin’s grinned.


“I said I’ll do it.” Emma’s voice shook with the shame of it. The shame of ultimate betrayal. Or the shame that some part of her knew she might enjoy her friends’ helpless, naked bodies writhing under her hands.

“Excellent.” The tall woman purred and turned her attention to Aleena. “Help Miss Clark down, will you? And bring her downstairs. I’ll go make sure the girls remove our guests’ blindfolds before you get there.”

Weeping softly, Emma watched as Jai Lin sauntered breezily to the far side of the room and out the door. A monstrous woman, the redhead thought, and then cringed at the thought she may not be so innocent herself. As Aleena started climbing onto the bed Emma made a concentrated effort to gather her thoughts. A hard ask given how frazzled her mind was, remembering every detail that had lead her there. Jason Whitmore, poor sweet Wendy. Mr. Lucas. Had Emma really found some miniscule measure of sadistic delight in Wendy’s torment senior year, or was that Jai Lin somehow getting in her head? Aleena started to loosen then bindings around the redhead’s wrists and the nude girl squirmed. She had never found any interest in tickling before, other than avoiding it. Maybe Emma was just a coward after all. Still, the idea of what she was about to do downstairs sent a lewd pulsating through her stiffening nipples.

“Ahh!” Emma fell, almost tumbling off the bed before Aleena caught her in a hug from behind.

“Easy now.” The older woman said, pulling the nude captive back and resting her gently in a kneeling position. “Won’t be a moment.”

Putting her trembling hands out to either side the shaken girl steadied herself. Within seconds the strap over her legs sprung free and at long last Emma was lose, not that it mattered. She still felt trapped, the red marks on her calves and wrists keen reminders that there was no real escape.

“Come on.” Aleena said softly as she slid off the end of the bed. She turned and offered out a helping hand.

Pushing back tears, Emma took hold of the kindly servant’s hand as she stood shakily from the bed. “Do…do I have to?” Making eye contact with Aleena, the nude girl’s knees wobbled like she was propped up by jello.

“We should hurry.” Aleena gave a sharp nod and turned swiftly. “Keep up.” She said, something unusual in her voice, a hard edge Emma hadn’t heard before. With no small amount of reluctance the redhead followed on, bare feet tingling as she padded naked across large room. Aleena stopped beside an antique set of drawers and slid one open with a woody hiss. “Here, put these on.” She held out a neatly folded catsuit, stark white and made of terribly thin material.

Insult to injury. Or injury upon injury, Emma thought as she unfurled the surprisingly lightweight suit. As the buxom girl wormed her way into the peculiar outfit she tried to imagine what her next indignity might be. They already tortured her, taken her friends, turned her traitor. Now she would dress like them. Perhaps Jai Lin would whisper sinister lies into Deena and Wendy’s ears, convince them that Emma had planned this all along. Nothing seemed impossible now. Tugging the tiny zipper up and squishing her big milky boobs in the process, the fearful girl knew no matter how vile a thought she might be able to imagine she would never reach the heights of depravity Jai Lin’s wicked mind could conjure.

“This way.” Aleena said and made way for the same door Jai Lin had exited through.

With a pace that took quite some effort to match in her worn out state, Emma kept a few steps behind as Aleena lead them down a long hall. High ceilings and polished floors, masterpieces of undoubtedly expensive art lined the walls. How Jai Lin’s girls wore the catsuits so often the redhead couldn’t understand, the tight cloth working its way into every curve. Nothing was left to the imagination, the redhead’s hardened nipples poking embarrassingly through the fabric. Probably, Emma had to concede to herself, Jai Lin’s girls got little say in the matter.

Through a side door and into a great ballroom, Aleena worked her way swiftly around a grand piano and opened another door. All ceremony gone from the place they entered a narrow hallway, barely wide enough for two people to stand side by side. The walls were rough and the floor little better, a good way gone from the shiny floors and affluent furniture. Rounding a tight corner Aleena carried on down old stone steps, Emma following uneasily behind. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, dreading what she would have to do and hoping all the same she was not being fooled into some new trap.

At the bottom of the stairs the thin passage split in two and the older woman pivoted left without pause. Glancing back over her shoulder Aleena frowned, a look of anger or something close to it, nothing like the faraway gaze Emma was used to seeing on her. Around another sharp corner, right this time, the redhead had no clue where they were anymore in relation to anything. The mansion was a labyrinth, she wondered if even Jai Lin knew it’s every corner. It seemed unlikely the mistress of the house ever had need of what Emma figured must have been servant’s passages. Aleena stopped at another door and turned, pressing one index finger gently across her full lips.

Emma furrowed her brow, perplexed why Aleena would feel the need to shush her. Sneaking up on poor Wendy and Deena, the frizzy haired girl guessed. The older woman took hold of the door handle and turned it gingerly, taking painstaking effort to remain silent. Whatever their need to quiet it was undoubtedly part of some cruel plot. Aleena peered around the door, only open a slither, whipping her head left and right. With a quick wave of her fingers she urged Emma forward.

“Where are we?” Emma looked around a grandiose kitchen, fashionable yet big enough to feed a small army.

“Quiet!” Aleena snapped with a whisper. She pursed her lips and waved the confused girl over to her.

“What are we doing?” Making her way over to the older woman, the redhead’s eyes darted around and saw two large windows. It was night out, stars adorned the distant sky. To their left was a door and when Aleena opened the cool air spilled in and sent a chill up Emma’s back.

“Run.”

Emma froze in place. It was a test, some trick, it had to be. There was no running here, no freedom. There was only Jai Lin and tickling. Tickle or be tickled, those were the only choices and Jai Lin was the only one who got to choose. Aleena grabbed her forcefully by the wrist.

“Run, damn you!” The older woman hissed. “Get out of here!”

Pulled into the door frame, face to face with Aleena, Emma planted her feet. “I…where do I go? I can’t run…Wendy and-“

“Their only hope now-“ Aleena squeezed the redhead’s shoulders, her nails digging in as she spoke all wide eyed and determination. “-is you. You have to go, do you understand? Go and find a woman, she might be in Japan, I don’t know, but you have to find her, she’ll tell you everything. Madam Ui, okay? Don’t forget it. Madam Ui, you understand?”

Emma nodded slowly, still entirely unsure of whether or not she should run. “M-Madam Ui.” She stammered. “What…what about you?”

Aleena scoffed through a humorless grin. “Believe it or not, Jai Lin’s powers aren’t limitless. What more can she do to me?”

“Come with me!” Emma looked around hurriedly. “We’ll go together, please you-“

“Go!” The older woman shoved the curvy girl out into the night air. “When they realize you’re gone, I can slow them down.”

“She’ll torture you! She’ll-“

“She already broke my heart.” Aleena closed the door.

Cold air rushed into her lungs and as the door clicked shut Emma took a staggered step backward. To her left and right and all above the mansion loomed, windows glowing warm. Looking back over her shoulder the light did not reach far and fell into endless dark. Another step back, mouth agape, the busty girl pictured what was going on deep within those walls. What was happening to Deena and Wendy, what would soon be happening to brave Aleena. Courageous Aleena, who had suffered untold horrors for years at Jai Lin’s hand and still found the will to do what was right. To make a sacrifice Emma never could have.

And so she ran. Maybe it was what she did best. Emma ran like she’d never ran before, bare feet pounding in the soft grass, heart pounding harder still. She ran until her muscles burned and veins pumped hellfire. And as she fled she swore to herself the next time she ran it would be right at Jai Lin, at Mr. Lucas and Jason Whitmore and that damned mansion. And she would see it all burn.

The End​
 
Last edited:
Horrifying, yet titillating. Amazing, yet sickening. I enjoyed every word and felt guilty; I was disgusted yet couldn't help but scroll down.

Bravo.

This is perhaps my favorite long-standing series of non-con tickle stories. By far my favorite part (besides all of it) was Jai Lin casually breaking down Deena (who I hope there will be more of, but that almost defeats one of her defining character traits up to this point; non-ticklishness). Above all else? The underlying hope that somehow, someway, all of the villains will eventually get their comeuppance, and their victims will find a measure of peace...yet that same perverse part hopes that peace involves a lot of tickle-orgies, which would suggest they never get over what happened, and returns me back to the guilt.

Good stories are supposed to make you feel something. And even if it is a kink-smut story, it's still a story, damnit! And this? This made me feel something. Once again, bravo.
 
Amazing, mind numbing hot! Extraordinary! Thank you! You’re a master!

Emma must be stopped though. This mansion is a haven for us and must kept and saved!

I can’t wait for your next part! Just amazing!!

Somebody should turn this story series into a movie series.
 
Damn fine story. You could do a master class on writing tickling fiction.
 
You’re just on a different level with your work. I almost feel bad for the victims…almost.
 
What a fantastic and captivating tale. The way you manage to place so many details about appearance, situation and boob wobbling seamlessly into the flow of reading shows your talent as a writer.

This secret society with its hidden mansions and powerful surveillance is very interesting to read about and should send chills trough every ticklish person.
Especially the white catsuits on the buxom bodies of the female members, hiding nothing and showing of every curve, add to sexy weirdness of this cult.
The different setups and dialogue are spot on and one really feels with these characters but can’t help themselves but look forward until every girl gets their fair share.

I personally love the small Romey scene (she has my favorite backstory and Tutor #4 is an all time classic) and the hint of the punishment games between the cult members themselves, would love to read more about that and the training of new arrivals.

Thanks for writing these Stories
Cheers :)
 
Another success! Loved it. I loved the final tortures of Emma, and I appreciate the way you built up to it.

Hasn't she got a younger sister just turned 18?
:)

Thanks very much for sharing your work with us!
 
Ain't no story like a Mantis story.

How amazingly good to see you back here again with another story which basically amounts to a short novel.

I'm not even halfway through yet but I'm loving this.

Thank you, sir!
 
I hope Jason gets to have some fun with Emma again haha

He certainly wants to! She just keeps slipping out from under him, literally!

What can Madame Ui do? I can't wait for Emma's revenge!

What indeed? :D I'll say this; Ui has a fount of information that Emma is unaware of. Information is power! If Emma can get her hands on it, who knows what she could achieve? :wowzer:

Horrifying, yet titillating. Amazing, yet sickening. I enjoyed every word and felt guilty; I was disgusted yet couldn't help but scroll down.

Bravo.

This is perhaps my favorite long-standing series of non-con tickle stories. By far my favorite part (besides all of it) was Jai Lin casually breaking down Deena (who I hope there will be more of, but that almost defeats one of her defining character traits up to this point; non-ticklishness). Above all else? The underlying hope that somehow, someway, all of the villains will eventually get their comeuppance, and their victims will find a measure of peace...yet that same perverse part hopes that peace involves a lot of tickle-orgies, which would suggest they never get over what happened, and returns me back to the guilt.

Good stories are supposed to make you feel something. And even if it is a kink-smut story, it's still a story, damnit! And this? This made me feel something. Once again, bravo.

Good gracious, you can't get much better than that! Thank you so much for sharing your great breakdown, I truly appreciate it! :D

Amazing, mind numbing hot! Extraordinary! Thank you! You’re a master!

Emma must be stopped though. This mansion is a haven for us and must kept and saved!

I can’t wait for your next part! Just amazing!!

Somebody should turn this story series into a movie series.

I'm thrilled you liked it! Your comment about Emma being stopped genuinely made me laugh :D. If we can find funding for a film I'm game, but I think we'll have a harder time finding willing actresses!

Well.

This is going to keep me busy for a while.

Glad you're back!

Thank you! Please let me know what you thought when you're all done!

Damn fine story. You could do a master class on writing tickling fiction.

You're too kind! I might be willing to teach a class if I can use live subjects. You know, to properly illustrate the uh...illustration?

You’re just on a different level with your work. I almost feel bad for the victims…almost.

Thank you for the kind words! I used to hold back for that very reason -feeling bad for the victims- I have a feeling the characters miss the old days...

Bring it all down, Emma!

Some support for Emma! Woo! I admit, she's really grown on me and I kind of want her to succeed...but you know me... :firedevil

What a fantastic and captivating tale. The way you manage to place so many details about appearance, situation and boob wobbling seamlessly into the flow of reading shows your talent as a writer.

This secret society with its hidden mansions and powerful surveillance is very interesting to read about and should send chills trough every ticklish person.
Especially the white catsuits on the buxom bodies of the female members, hiding nothing and showing of every curve, add to sexy weirdness of this cult.
The different setups and dialogue are spot on and one really feels with these characters but can’t help themselves but look forward until every girl gets their fair share.

I personally love the small Romey scene (she has my favorite backstory and Tutor #4 is an all time classic) and the hint of the punishment games between the cult members themselves, would love to read more about that and the training of new arrivals.

Thanks for writing these Stories
Cheers :)

Thank you for your detailed thoughts, I really appreciate it! I am definitely planning on more Romey, she's a personal favourite of mine and I like to sneak her in where I can. I'm working on a little something right now which could *potentially* show a little more about the mansions inner workings, so hang tight! :D

Another success! Loved it. I loved the final tortures of Emma, and I appreciate the way you built up to it.

Hasn't she got a younger sister just turned 18?
:)

Thanks very much for sharing your work with us!

And thank YOU for taking the time to share your thoughts! :D I'm honestly not sure if Emma has any siblings, although she did mention her mother...

Ain't no story like a Mantis story.

How amazingly good to see you back here again with another story which basically amounts to a short novel.

I'm not even halfway through yet but I'm loving this.

Thank you, sir!

Thank you my friend! I greatly look forward to your final thoughts, I hope the second half lived up the to the first! :D
 
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