midrifftickler
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Here is part 4 of Chapter 10 of Dawn's Story. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!
Chapter Beginnings
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise
Chapter 2: The Evil Box
Chapter 3: On the Run
Chapter 4: A New Paradise
Chapter 5: Tummy Testing
Chapter 6: Hidden Citizen
Chapter 7: Tummy Training
Chapter 8: Sessions and Reflections
Chapter 9: Full Citizen
Chapter 10: The Mistress
Chapter 11: Royals and Revelations
Chapter 12: The Rarest Reunion
Chapter 13: Novice Mistress
Chapter 14: Taking Control
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn
Previous Chapter
Chapter 10: The Mistress, Part 3
Wendy raised her hands and wiggled her fingers above the exposed and sensitized stomach. “It’s about time I got personally involved in extracting an answer from you.”
Dawn’s head pressed into the pillow when the gloved hands met her bare belly. “STAHAHAHAP!” she instinctively screamed, albeit before she could decide whether she liked this new tickling or not.
“All you need to do to make me stop is agree to tell me the truth,” the tickler reminded her. “I’ll stop, get the tickle powder off, and we can talk.”
“NEHEHEVEHEHEHER!” Dawn refused, certainly not that desperate yet. As the dominant woman spoke, the ticklee had realized that her plea had simply been an emotional outburst. It was not serious in the slightest, despite how the Tickle Mistress reacted.
In fact, Dawn soon found comfort in the torso tickling. Sure, Wendy was definitely as talented as Lily or Betty, but having a good tickler get her was just the norm for this ticklee. The tickle powder added a base level of feathering to the main spider attack, and Dawn absolutely loved it. It was essentially like having one of her bosses at Tummy Paradise tickle her while something else tickled her softly in the background. If Dawn had been offered that with Lily, Betty, or another Tummy Paradise tickler, she would have accepted in a heartbeat. And Dawn knew what that meant: it was time to mentally swap ticklers to ease the torment. The tickles were too effective to pretend that Cecelia was in charge, but the ticklish switch’s mind quickly jumped to a new plan: it replaced Wendy with Betty. The two ticklers’ fingers felt similar enough, and Dawn began to really relax as she imagined a nicer tickler dominating her most ticklish spot.
Although the tickle slaves had each only tickled their spots for a short bit, the Tickle Mistress took her time working over the arched abdomen. Dawn’s Tummy Paradise training allowed her to keep up her laughter easily; she had been tickled more intensely for much longer sessions. Not even the extra feathering from the tickle powder, which constantly assaulted her midsection, could begin to exhaust the professional switch. Aside from occasional reminders that her ticklee could give up at any time, Wendy stayed silent, apparently content to just tickle her prisoner’s midriff. She waited until the tickle powder wore off and then soon ceased her finger tickling, with Dawn in no worse shape than when she started.
“You ready to talk yet?” the Tickle Mistress wondered after concluding her opening tummy tickle. Just as she had for most of the questions, Dawn stayed silent. “Yeah, I didn’t expect you to say anything quite yet. Jen and Maddie mentioned that they used their fingers to tickle you at Tummy Paradise, as well as feathers like the tickle powder. But don’t worry; you’ll talk eventually. Even if it takes a long time. I promise you that. And when you do, I’ll free you. We can have a nice conversation, and we’ll see if you decide to like or tolerate my job.”
‘I won’t be untied; I’ll be tortured afterwards,’ Dawn mentally reinforced her view of the situation. ‘You may believe what you’re saying, but it’s not true. You cannot break me, and I will not let what would happen afterwards come to pass.’
“Let’s see how you feel about a real pair of dusters,” Wendy declared, picking up the tools. “Perhaps you’ll be in a more talkative mood after they treat you for a bit.”
‘I won’t be; I know that already,’ Dawn vowed.
With Dawn staying silent, the feather dusters began brushing against the bare belly. Like several of Dawn’s Tummy Paradise tickler clients, the Tickle Mistress started at the sides and moved to more sensitive areas. Of course, her professionalism inspired her to vary the feathering some more. She hit every single zone on the torso under her, typically focusing on one for each duster. To Dawn, it felt the same as when Lily, Betty, or even one of the lesser ticklers manipulated the mass-feather tool. The ticklee coped with this extended tummy tickling by imagining Lily in control of the duster. Out of all her ticklers, Lily had consistently been the kindest, even better than the more familiar Betty. The owner and Dawn’s original savior was practically the opposite of this evil slave mistress, and having her feather the former tickle slave’s middle was a blessing. Surprising even Dawn, her imagination was powerful enough that she actually began to enjoy what was designed to be tickle torture. Once she felt the bliss of a positive tickling, the ticklee embraced it and remained there until the feeling on her stomach went away.
“Why don’t you like that I’m a Tickle Mistress, Dawn? I need an answer.” Wendy’s words whisked away Dawn’s illusion as fast as her hands whisked the feathers off Dawn’s belly. The ticklee shook her head in confusion initially, then looked up to her tormentor. Readjusting to her current situation, Dawn still felt no pressure to talk, so she stared instead. The Tickle Mistress stared back for several seconds before shrugging her shoulders. “Didn’t think that would work, but it was worth a shot. Let’s see how much more that tummy can take before you talk.” Just like that, Wendy turned around and picked up a pair of paintbrushes. “You like having your tummy painted, Dawn? If you don’t, just talk, and I won’t paint it.”
‘You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed of this,’ Dawn grew rather excited internally, but suppressed her emotions so a dream of hers would not be taken away. Wishing to withstand the tickling more easily, she thought back to the first time she heard of ticklish painting.
Within a year of joining the Tickle Cartel art website, Dawn came across a post about a live drawing on Tickle Island. She could not go, since she was still in hiding from the Tickle Cartel, but she was intrigued by the revelation that the paintings would be on people. Eventually, videos came out showing volunteers laughing hysterically as their most ticklish spots were colored in with tickly paintbrushes. Ever since that time, Dawn had been dreaming of herself in one of the midriff-ticklish volunteer’s spots. She was too nervous to expose herself at one of the events, but privately, she held the fantasy near and dear. Now that it was coming true, she was so happy that Wendy being the painter did not disturb her in the slightest.
Once she had finished her recollections, the ticklee looked down and realized that she would need to wait a little longer to fulfill that fantasy. The Tickle Mistress, while making painting motions on her stomach and making Dawn laugh like the volunteers in the videos, had not dipped her brushes in any real paint. There would not be a cute picture, or any image, to remind the ticklee of the experience. Nevertheless, the professional switch did get to feel how an artist would use her stomach as a canvas, and she enjoyed that. As before, she laughed freely the entire time, focusing her energy on resisting any torture, not the tickling itself.
“Paintbrushes work quite well on you, Dawn,” Wendy declared as she removed the brushes after a long session. “Did they inspire you to spill any hidden feelings?” Knowing that she would be punished, and fearing how, if she answered or said anything other than an answer, the ticklee just stared silently. “I guess you don’t mind being painted. Something to keep in mind for when you like me. Time to move on.”
Scarcely a moment passed before the paintbrushes fell to the floor and the Tickle Mistress grabbed a pair of Q-tips. “I know of a few people who hate these; let’s see if you’ll join them!”
Unlike most tickle tools, Dawn was not exceptionally sensitive to the Q-tips. Wendy commenced the tickling by plunging them onto opposite surfaces of her outie, and the laughter came screaming out, but the ticklee knew it was slightly less intense than her normal hysterics. When the tiny, tipped tools moved off her tickle button, she barely kept up a stream of laughs. Unbothered by the lack of a crazed reaction, the tickler continued to move them around, and Dawn was able to easily withstand the minimal ticklish feeling. She did not even need to imagine someone tickling her to get her mind off the situation at hand. A memory of her and Connor playing video games at his house, filled her mind. He had always been better than her at his games, but he never rubbed her frequent losses in. Eventually, a salient memory of a racing game came up. Dawn was too uncoordinated at the game to ever finish in a decent position, but Connor always encouraged her and rooted for her to finish right behind him. One time, she got fourth place, her best finish ever, and despite it having been years ago, she could almost feel the hug he had given her.
“Wow, maybe these Q-tips are doing something!” Wendy appeared shocked as she brought Dawn back to reality. It took a minute for the ticklee to recognize that a single tear was streaming off to the side of her face. Apparently, she had been so caught up in the memory that she had shed a tear in real life. Unfortunately for Wendy, once the captive realized where she was again, any distressed emotion instantly disappeared from her face. She looked to her captor, who was attempting to read her face, and simply kept laughing. The two stared at each other for the remainder of the Q-tip tickle session, with Dawn’s laughter serving as the only verbal communication between them.
Finally, the Tickle Mistress removed the tiny tools and questioned, “Ready to talk now?” For whatever reason, Dawn felt compelled to shake her head in a firm denial of the offer. “Really? I was sure that was working.” The frustrated captor growled and did a 360 degree turn before facing her prisoner again. “Okay, I can see you’re not going to make this easy for me. And unfortunately, I can’t just keep you there. You’ll hurt your back if we leave you stretched out like that. Plus, you’ve got to be getting hungry and thirsty.”
Finishing her statement with another frustrated growl, the Tickle Mistress waved to her slaves, and the eight bikini-clad women released Dawn from her arching bondage. The ticklee was briefly enthusiastic before her enslaved captors chained her wrists and ankles again. ‘Of course, she’s not done with me yet,’ Dawn realized. ‘She just wanted me to avoid getting hurt on the table. But why? She could probably just whip me until I talked, and it really seems like she wants answers.’ The prisoner considered this while being carried to the room opposite the art gallery. ‘It must be because she doesn’t know I was a slave. If she knew that, I’d still be tied up on that table, and she would have stretched me out more before whipping me. I cannot let that happen, no matter what she does to me.’
Dawn broke from her thoughts in time to see Wendy pointing to one of two chairs facing each other across an unusually long table. The chair indicated by the Tickle Mistress had a few loose but connected chains on the backrest and legs. In front of it, there was a plate sitting in between two holes, each of which had short chains coming out of them. Meanwhile, the other chair had no dishes nor chains. Following their mistress’ command, the tickle slaves sat Dawn in the prisoner chair, then bound her ankles to the legs of the chair. Her wrist cuffs were removed and replaced by the table chains. The slaves proceeded to wrap two of the on-chair restraints around her body: one on her upper thighs, and the other above the top of her torso. With all the bondage, the captive was only able to move slightly, maybe or maybe not enough to actually get food to her mouth.
“I’d like for you to be able to eat, but I knew that if we got to this point, I couldn’t exactly trust you not to try and run away,” Wendy announced as she took the other chair and nodded to a pair of tickle slaves. The two left the room and almost immediately returned with two sandwiches. “I also can’t trust you with any sort of silverware; I’m not sure what you’d be capable of doing with it. That said, I’m sure Sasha would be happy to cut your sandwich any way you’d like.”
“Yes, Miss Dawn, I’d be happy to help,” the slave called Sasha submissively stated. “Please tell me how you want the sandwich, and I’ll cut it accordingly.”
“Diagonal, please,” Dawn reluctantly identified her favorite way to eat sandwiches.
“Is this good, ma’am?” Sasha wondered after fulfilling the request, and Dawn nodded with a weak smile. The tickle slave placed her harmless table knife down far away from her mistress’ prisoner and then she brought the sandwich halves over and set them on the plate.
Dawn thanked the slave before taking half of the food in her bound hands. With her wrists kept fairly close to the table, she had to make a bit of an effort to lean down so she could actually eat. The sandwich tasted pretty good, and she was grateful for the food, albeit suspicious of Wendy’s motives for providing it. Fairly soon, the powerful woman added to her confusion by calling for some water. Dawn received a straw since her bondage prevented her from lifting and tilting the cup to drink.
After a few bites, the Tickle Mistress wondered, “Is your sandwich good, Dawn?” Not willing to speak up, Dawn nodded a yes and took another bite. “Hmm, you really don’t want to say anything to me. Very well, I’ll talk. I realized during your last tickling that you may have another reason for not sharing anything. If you hate that I’m a Tickle Mistress so much that I cannot change your mind, you think Jen and Maddie won’t want to be your friends anymore.”
‘I’m not scared of that now, but that’s the only reason I came here in the first place,’ Dawn mentally acknowledged that the concern had crossed her mind, albeit in a different fashion.
“I want you to know that this situation will not happen,” Wendy continued. “If for whatever reason your hatred of me is unfixable, I will tell Jen and Maddie that we just didn’t get along. If they push, I’ll make sure to cast you in a decent light.”
‘How generous.’
“I will also forbid them from inviting you back here, so you never have to see me again. You can keep your friendship with them; I would not want to take one of their peers away.”
‘That’s what you think now. Once you find out why I really don’t like you, I’ll never see Jen or Maddie ever again. Well, unless I get sold to someone they know. But it won’t be the same me, I’m pretty sure.’
“So, with that in mind, would you please tell me why you don’t like that I’m a Tickle Mistress?” Wendy hopefully asked.
“Excuse me, may I please have some more water?” Dawn turned to one of the tickle slaves and requested more of the refreshing drink.
“Alright, I guess we’ll have to do more convincing,” Wendy sighed as Sasha refilled the empty water cup. “Layla, put some more lotion on her.” Dawn involuntarily winced at the thought of more tickle powder on her midriff, but the Tickle Mistress quickly reassured her, “No tickle powder in this lotion. That didn’t have the slightest effect on you; I don’t even think it made you more tired. I just want you as sensitive as possible.”
With the half-imagined threat averted, Dawn relaxed and continued to eat while the slave worked on sensitizing her. She was fine until Layla reached up near her neck and pulled on her shirt lightly. “Sorry, Miss Dawn,” the tickle slave apologized, “Mistress Wendy wanted me to put some lotion up here, too.” Although Dawn was unsure of why she would need her neck sensitized, she honestly could not do much as Layla added a very thin layer of lotion there. A similar apology and application happened later near her pants, with some of the slick substance being put on her hips.
After the ticklee’s spots were covered in lotion, the Tickle Mistress inquired, “Do you want another sandwich? You’re going to need your energy, and they made plenty.” Dawn accepted with a nod, and Sasha left to retrieve a second sandwich. Having her captive’s full attention, Wendy took the time to inquire, “Dawn, do you know why I set this afternoon as the date for our little conversation?” Dawn had just figured that both of them being off work during the weekend was the reason why she had been called now, so she shrugged. The Tickle Mistress stared her straight in the eyes and explained, “I have no plans for tomorrow, so you can stay here as long as it takes for me to get answers.”
‘Wait, does that mean she’ll keep me here overnight?’ Dawn recoiled.
Next Chapter
Chapter 10: The Mistress, Part 5
Chapter Beginnings
Chapter 1: Perilous Paradise
Chapter 2: The Evil Box
Chapter 3: On the Run
Chapter 4: A New Paradise
Chapter 5: Tummy Testing
Chapter 6: Hidden Citizen
Chapter 7: Tummy Training
Chapter 8: Sessions and Reflections
Chapter 9: Full Citizen
Chapter 10: The Mistress
Chapter 11: Royals and Revelations
Chapter 12: The Rarest Reunion
Chapter 13: Novice Mistress
Chapter 14: Taking Control
Chapter 15: Mistress Dawn
Previous Chapter
Chapter 10: The Mistress, Part 3
Wendy raised her hands and wiggled her fingers above the exposed and sensitized stomach. “It’s about time I got personally involved in extracting an answer from you.”
Dawn’s head pressed into the pillow when the gloved hands met her bare belly. “STAHAHAHAP!” she instinctively screamed, albeit before she could decide whether she liked this new tickling or not.
“All you need to do to make me stop is agree to tell me the truth,” the tickler reminded her. “I’ll stop, get the tickle powder off, and we can talk.”
“NEHEHEVEHEHEHER!” Dawn refused, certainly not that desperate yet. As the dominant woman spoke, the ticklee had realized that her plea had simply been an emotional outburst. It was not serious in the slightest, despite how the Tickle Mistress reacted.
In fact, Dawn soon found comfort in the torso tickling. Sure, Wendy was definitely as talented as Lily or Betty, but having a good tickler get her was just the norm for this ticklee. The tickle powder added a base level of feathering to the main spider attack, and Dawn absolutely loved it. It was essentially like having one of her bosses at Tummy Paradise tickle her while something else tickled her softly in the background. If Dawn had been offered that with Lily, Betty, or another Tummy Paradise tickler, she would have accepted in a heartbeat. And Dawn knew what that meant: it was time to mentally swap ticklers to ease the torment. The tickles were too effective to pretend that Cecelia was in charge, but the ticklish switch’s mind quickly jumped to a new plan: it replaced Wendy with Betty. The two ticklers’ fingers felt similar enough, and Dawn began to really relax as she imagined a nicer tickler dominating her most ticklish spot.
Although the tickle slaves had each only tickled their spots for a short bit, the Tickle Mistress took her time working over the arched abdomen. Dawn’s Tummy Paradise training allowed her to keep up her laughter easily; she had been tickled more intensely for much longer sessions. Not even the extra feathering from the tickle powder, which constantly assaulted her midsection, could begin to exhaust the professional switch. Aside from occasional reminders that her ticklee could give up at any time, Wendy stayed silent, apparently content to just tickle her prisoner’s midriff. She waited until the tickle powder wore off and then soon ceased her finger tickling, with Dawn in no worse shape than when she started.
“You ready to talk yet?” the Tickle Mistress wondered after concluding her opening tummy tickle. Just as she had for most of the questions, Dawn stayed silent. “Yeah, I didn’t expect you to say anything quite yet. Jen and Maddie mentioned that they used their fingers to tickle you at Tummy Paradise, as well as feathers like the tickle powder. But don’t worry; you’ll talk eventually. Even if it takes a long time. I promise you that. And when you do, I’ll free you. We can have a nice conversation, and we’ll see if you decide to like or tolerate my job.”
‘I won’t be untied; I’ll be tortured afterwards,’ Dawn mentally reinforced her view of the situation. ‘You may believe what you’re saying, but it’s not true. You cannot break me, and I will not let what would happen afterwards come to pass.’
“Let’s see how you feel about a real pair of dusters,” Wendy declared, picking up the tools. “Perhaps you’ll be in a more talkative mood after they treat you for a bit.”
‘I won’t be; I know that already,’ Dawn vowed.
With Dawn staying silent, the feather dusters began brushing against the bare belly. Like several of Dawn’s Tummy Paradise tickler clients, the Tickle Mistress started at the sides and moved to more sensitive areas. Of course, her professionalism inspired her to vary the feathering some more. She hit every single zone on the torso under her, typically focusing on one for each duster. To Dawn, it felt the same as when Lily, Betty, or even one of the lesser ticklers manipulated the mass-feather tool. The ticklee coped with this extended tummy tickling by imagining Lily in control of the duster. Out of all her ticklers, Lily had consistently been the kindest, even better than the more familiar Betty. The owner and Dawn’s original savior was practically the opposite of this evil slave mistress, and having her feather the former tickle slave’s middle was a blessing. Surprising even Dawn, her imagination was powerful enough that she actually began to enjoy what was designed to be tickle torture. Once she felt the bliss of a positive tickling, the ticklee embraced it and remained there until the feeling on her stomach went away.
“Why don’t you like that I’m a Tickle Mistress, Dawn? I need an answer.” Wendy’s words whisked away Dawn’s illusion as fast as her hands whisked the feathers off Dawn’s belly. The ticklee shook her head in confusion initially, then looked up to her tormentor. Readjusting to her current situation, Dawn still felt no pressure to talk, so she stared instead. The Tickle Mistress stared back for several seconds before shrugging her shoulders. “Didn’t think that would work, but it was worth a shot. Let’s see how much more that tummy can take before you talk.” Just like that, Wendy turned around and picked up a pair of paintbrushes. “You like having your tummy painted, Dawn? If you don’t, just talk, and I won’t paint it.”
‘You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed of this,’ Dawn grew rather excited internally, but suppressed her emotions so a dream of hers would not be taken away. Wishing to withstand the tickling more easily, she thought back to the first time she heard of ticklish painting.
Within a year of joining the Tickle Cartel art website, Dawn came across a post about a live drawing on Tickle Island. She could not go, since she was still in hiding from the Tickle Cartel, but she was intrigued by the revelation that the paintings would be on people. Eventually, videos came out showing volunteers laughing hysterically as their most ticklish spots were colored in with tickly paintbrushes. Ever since that time, Dawn had been dreaming of herself in one of the midriff-ticklish volunteer’s spots. She was too nervous to expose herself at one of the events, but privately, she held the fantasy near and dear. Now that it was coming true, she was so happy that Wendy being the painter did not disturb her in the slightest.
Once she had finished her recollections, the ticklee looked down and realized that she would need to wait a little longer to fulfill that fantasy. The Tickle Mistress, while making painting motions on her stomach and making Dawn laugh like the volunteers in the videos, had not dipped her brushes in any real paint. There would not be a cute picture, or any image, to remind the ticklee of the experience. Nevertheless, the professional switch did get to feel how an artist would use her stomach as a canvas, and she enjoyed that. As before, she laughed freely the entire time, focusing her energy on resisting any torture, not the tickling itself.
“Paintbrushes work quite well on you, Dawn,” Wendy declared as she removed the brushes after a long session. “Did they inspire you to spill any hidden feelings?” Knowing that she would be punished, and fearing how, if she answered or said anything other than an answer, the ticklee just stared silently. “I guess you don’t mind being painted. Something to keep in mind for when you like me. Time to move on.”
Scarcely a moment passed before the paintbrushes fell to the floor and the Tickle Mistress grabbed a pair of Q-tips. “I know of a few people who hate these; let’s see if you’ll join them!”
Unlike most tickle tools, Dawn was not exceptionally sensitive to the Q-tips. Wendy commenced the tickling by plunging them onto opposite surfaces of her outie, and the laughter came screaming out, but the ticklee knew it was slightly less intense than her normal hysterics. When the tiny, tipped tools moved off her tickle button, she barely kept up a stream of laughs. Unbothered by the lack of a crazed reaction, the tickler continued to move them around, and Dawn was able to easily withstand the minimal ticklish feeling. She did not even need to imagine someone tickling her to get her mind off the situation at hand. A memory of her and Connor playing video games at his house, filled her mind. He had always been better than her at his games, but he never rubbed her frequent losses in. Eventually, a salient memory of a racing game came up. Dawn was too uncoordinated at the game to ever finish in a decent position, but Connor always encouraged her and rooted for her to finish right behind him. One time, she got fourth place, her best finish ever, and despite it having been years ago, she could almost feel the hug he had given her.
“Wow, maybe these Q-tips are doing something!” Wendy appeared shocked as she brought Dawn back to reality. It took a minute for the ticklee to recognize that a single tear was streaming off to the side of her face. Apparently, she had been so caught up in the memory that she had shed a tear in real life. Unfortunately for Wendy, once the captive realized where she was again, any distressed emotion instantly disappeared from her face. She looked to her captor, who was attempting to read her face, and simply kept laughing. The two stared at each other for the remainder of the Q-tip tickle session, with Dawn’s laughter serving as the only verbal communication between them.
Finally, the Tickle Mistress removed the tiny tools and questioned, “Ready to talk now?” For whatever reason, Dawn felt compelled to shake her head in a firm denial of the offer. “Really? I was sure that was working.” The frustrated captor growled and did a 360 degree turn before facing her prisoner again. “Okay, I can see you’re not going to make this easy for me. And unfortunately, I can’t just keep you there. You’ll hurt your back if we leave you stretched out like that. Plus, you’ve got to be getting hungry and thirsty.”
Finishing her statement with another frustrated growl, the Tickle Mistress waved to her slaves, and the eight bikini-clad women released Dawn from her arching bondage. The ticklee was briefly enthusiastic before her enslaved captors chained her wrists and ankles again. ‘Of course, she’s not done with me yet,’ Dawn realized. ‘She just wanted me to avoid getting hurt on the table. But why? She could probably just whip me until I talked, and it really seems like she wants answers.’ The prisoner considered this while being carried to the room opposite the art gallery. ‘It must be because she doesn’t know I was a slave. If she knew that, I’d still be tied up on that table, and she would have stretched me out more before whipping me. I cannot let that happen, no matter what she does to me.’
Dawn broke from her thoughts in time to see Wendy pointing to one of two chairs facing each other across an unusually long table. The chair indicated by the Tickle Mistress had a few loose but connected chains on the backrest and legs. In front of it, there was a plate sitting in between two holes, each of which had short chains coming out of them. Meanwhile, the other chair had no dishes nor chains. Following their mistress’ command, the tickle slaves sat Dawn in the prisoner chair, then bound her ankles to the legs of the chair. Her wrist cuffs were removed and replaced by the table chains. The slaves proceeded to wrap two of the on-chair restraints around her body: one on her upper thighs, and the other above the top of her torso. With all the bondage, the captive was only able to move slightly, maybe or maybe not enough to actually get food to her mouth.
“I’d like for you to be able to eat, but I knew that if we got to this point, I couldn’t exactly trust you not to try and run away,” Wendy announced as she took the other chair and nodded to a pair of tickle slaves. The two left the room and almost immediately returned with two sandwiches. “I also can’t trust you with any sort of silverware; I’m not sure what you’d be capable of doing with it. That said, I’m sure Sasha would be happy to cut your sandwich any way you’d like.”
“Yes, Miss Dawn, I’d be happy to help,” the slave called Sasha submissively stated. “Please tell me how you want the sandwich, and I’ll cut it accordingly.”
“Diagonal, please,” Dawn reluctantly identified her favorite way to eat sandwiches.
“Is this good, ma’am?” Sasha wondered after fulfilling the request, and Dawn nodded with a weak smile. The tickle slave placed her harmless table knife down far away from her mistress’ prisoner and then she brought the sandwich halves over and set them on the plate.
Dawn thanked the slave before taking half of the food in her bound hands. With her wrists kept fairly close to the table, she had to make a bit of an effort to lean down so she could actually eat. The sandwich tasted pretty good, and she was grateful for the food, albeit suspicious of Wendy’s motives for providing it. Fairly soon, the powerful woman added to her confusion by calling for some water. Dawn received a straw since her bondage prevented her from lifting and tilting the cup to drink.
After a few bites, the Tickle Mistress wondered, “Is your sandwich good, Dawn?” Not willing to speak up, Dawn nodded a yes and took another bite. “Hmm, you really don’t want to say anything to me. Very well, I’ll talk. I realized during your last tickling that you may have another reason for not sharing anything. If you hate that I’m a Tickle Mistress so much that I cannot change your mind, you think Jen and Maddie won’t want to be your friends anymore.”
‘I’m not scared of that now, but that’s the only reason I came here in the first place,’ Dawn mentally acknowledged that the concern had crossed her mind, albeit in a different fashion.
“I want you to know that this situation will not happen,” Wendy continued. “If for whatever reason your hatred of me is unfixable, I will tell Jen and Maddie that we just didn’t get along. If they push, I’ll make sure to cast you in a decent light.”
‘How generous.’
“I will also forbid them from inviting you back here, so you never have to see me again. You can keep your friendship with them; I would not want to take one of their peers away.”
‘That’s what you think now. Once you find out why I really don’t like you, I’ll never see Jen or Maddie ever again. Well, unless I get sold to someone they know. But it won’t be the same me, I’m pretty sure.’
“So, with that in mind, would you please tell me why you don’t like that I’m a Tickle Mistress?” Wendy hopefully asked.
“Excuse me, may I please have some more water?” Dawn turned to one of the tickle slaves and requested more of the refreshing drink.
“Alright, I guess we’ll have to do more convincing,” Wendy sighed as Sasha refilled the empty water cup. “Layla, put some more lotion on her.” Dawn involuntarily winced at the thought of more tickle powder on her midriff, but the Tickle Mistress quickly reassured her, “No tickle powder in this lotion. That didn’t have the slightest effect on you; I don’t even think it made you more tired. I just want you as sensitive as possible.”
With the half-imagined threat averted, Dawn relaxed and continued to eat while the slave worked on sensitizing her. She was fine until Layla reached up near her neck and pulled on her shirt lightly. “Sorry, Miss Dawn,” the tickle slave apologized, “Mistress Wendy wanted me to put some lotion up here, too.” Although Dawn was unsure of why she would need her neck sensitized, she honestly could not do much as Layla added a very thin layer of lotion there. A similar apology and application happened later near her pants, with some of the slick substance being put on her hips.
After the ticklee’s spots were covered in lotion, the Tickle Mistress inquired, “Do you want another sandwich? You’re going to need your energy, and they made plenty.” Dawn accepted with a nod, and Sasha left to retrieve a second sandwich. Having her captive’s full attention, Wendy took the time to inquire, “Dawn, do you know why I set this afternoon as the date for our little conversation?” Dawn had just figured that both of them being off work during the weekend was the reason why she had been called now, so she shrugged. The Tickle Mistress stared her straight in the eyes and explained, “I have no plans for tomorrow, so you can stay here as long as it takes for me to get answers.”
‘Wait, does that mean she’ll keep me here overnight?’ Dawn recoiled.
Next Chapter
Chapter 10: The Mistress, Part 5
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