ThePurpleQuill
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2018
- Messages
- 161
- Points
- 18
A young woman sits by her lonesome in the middle of a boxing ring. Clad in a martial arts uniform, the pristine white material sits loosely across her body, with a thick white belt tied tight around her petite waist. Her short black hair cast over her downturned face, she is all but immersed with the task at hand, that which is turning her cheeks a frustrating hue of deep red at this very moment. Her ankles are shackled together right before her eyes, with the chain between them looped through a thick metal ring in the floor she has been fiddling with the last five minutes. However, such a feat would prove impossible at best, as upon her hands sits a pair of plush boxing gloves, seemingly too large to be of any practical purpose as they sit, as with a padlock on each band encasing her wrists, it seems their purpose is made to be anything but. A collar with a small compartment placed at her gullet is fit around her neck, the purpose of which Mai hasn’t the slightest clue but certainly would not like to find out. How she got here, she couldn’t tell you, having woken from her unexpected slumber not long before, but one thing is for sure: our amateur fighter here is about to have the battle of her short little life.
“In this corner: weighing in at a formidable 125 lbs, it is…” a female voice suddenly comes over the loudspeaker, its tone akin to that of an announcer. “Mai Tai! Let’s give her a hand!” Mai glances about, knowing for sure she was not in any official match, her confusion and anger reaching a boiling point.
“Welcome Miss Tai,” the announcer says, its tone just a tad bit condescending from Mai’s point of view. “I hope you’re enjoying the fighting area we’ve constructed especially for your arrival. I apologize for making you wait, but we just had to make sure everything was laid out perfect before we could begin. Are you ready for your first challenger?” Truly she is joking: not only was she left completely immobile in her position, but now she must face multiple challengers while bound to the floor? No, this wasn’t right, but it certainly wouldn’t be enough to dishevel this seasoned fighter in any way.
“You think this scares me?!” Mai shoots back, showing that formidable façade that has won her many titles before. “I don’t care if you tie both hands behind my back: I’ll kick the ass of anybody who walks on this stage!”
“That’s good, because your opponents have paid quite the sum of money to get everything you can throw at them,” she answers back, the ample enthusiasm in her voice sending a shiver down Mai’s spine. “Here’s what’s going to happen: when the buzzer sounds, the match will begin. Once that happens, the ring keeping you right where you are will disengage, giving you the ability to move freely about the stage. You will have one hour to fight your way out of the ring, facing each of your opponents one at a time. However, I suggest you do so in a timely manner lest you swiftly become overwhelmed: each of them is scheduled to go on every five minutes, meaning you could soon become hopelessly outnumbered. Only when you have subdued them all will you be let to leave by your own accord. If you try and escape before completing this objective is met, you can expect a shock from your collar to paralyze you where you stand.”
She glances to her left, catching sight of an unknown figure climbing through the ropes into the ring. He is clad in a luchador outfit, the traditional mask shrouding his identity, and the bright blue bottoms with gold accents a far contrast from her modern apparel. The moment he steps into the ring, the buzzer sounds, that which sends a jolt of energy through Mai’s person as though she were priming herself for a real match. It is then that the spiral retreats into the floor, letting her move about the ring to the best of her abilities. Standing herself upright, she confronts the masked figure, a look of sadistic ferocity scrawled across her brow.
“You have no idea who you’re messing with chump,” she proudly states, cracking her neck to the side as she puts her fists up in a defensive position. “Come and get me!” The man responds in turn, slowly approaching her on the outer perimeter of the ring. She may not know exactly who she is up against, but it does not matter: she is the best, and now she merely has to prove it. As he approaches, he raises his hands, directing them towards Mai as he begins wriggling his fingers in curious fashion. What his intent may be, she hasn’t the slightest clue, but she sure isn’t going to wait around to find out. She steps forward, launching a mighty strike right into his upper belly, a crippling spot that has taken down opponents stronger than this sack of nothing. He recoils for a brief moment, only to stand back up tall, approaching her again once more.
Motherfucker! she curses to herself, the abysmally soft material encasing her hardened knuckles rendering her strike all but completely useless. Had she known just how handicapped she would be rendered for this match, then she would have started playing dirty the moment the bell rang. Taking aim at his groin, Mai swings her leg up for a horrendous kick, forgetting that her ankles were bound together in the manner. Two attempts have been made that would have ended the match the moment it began, but all have been nullified by the binds she has no control over. Collapsing backwards unto the floor, Mai has just enough sense to look up at her opponent, lunging at her this very moment. In one swift motion, she rolls herself to the left, narrowly avoiding his pouncing tackle as he collapses unto the floor.
This is it! This is my chance! she assures herself, shuffling just behind the man just as he is about to get up, placing her forearm around his gullet, trapping him in a devastating chokehold that has become a specialty of hers ever since placing second in the state championships. Even without her legs wrapping around his midsection, her upper body strength alone is enough to keep him right where he is. A wave of satisfaction washes over her, knowing that even in such dire straits she could so easily come up on top, be her opponent female or male. However, her reveling is cut short by the sight of another opponent entering the ring, his attire in the same fashion as the one slowly losing oxygen in her grasp. He approaches her, that which does not deter Mai from staying the course.
Oh no! You’re not loosening this grip! she reassures herself, seeing out of the corner of her eye his slow approach. There’s nothing you could possibly do to get me to stop…what the hell?! It is then that she senses him kneeling behind her and, taking his fingers, begin gently swirling them into the crevices of her underarms.
NO FUCKING WAY!! she bellows internally in utter disbelief at the fate that has befallen her: he is tickling her! Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined being put in such a helplessly vulnerable state as to allow someone to tickle her from behind. She purses her lips, fighting the annoyance that is swiftly building up inside of her, having never encountered such a devious trick in all her years of semi-professional fighting. Even through the thick material of her garb, the sensation is maddening to say the least, as teetering giggles begin seeping out of her gullet one by one, her lips peeling back into a trembling grin. What little she could do to defend herself from a direct assault was being played with, completely helpless against the manipulation of the childhood weakness being used against her without the least bit of effort on his part. Her will to render the man unconscious before letting go was failing her, as it was only by her own accord that she was to release her grasp from her opponent, tossing him unto the floor as she rolls away from the tickling that was inflicted upon her.
She hears the man gasp for breath behind her, knowing she had ultimately failed and will now have two opponents to contend with. To think that they would resort to something so juvenile to use against her was boggling her already disheveled mind, trying to comprehend just what kind of trouble she is finding herself in. However, as she begins crawling away, she is stopped dead in her tracks, looking back to find her opponent stepping on the length of chain between her ankles.
“Get the fuck off me!” she barks at the masked assailant, trying her best to yank the chain from underneath his heavy boot, only to watch him slowly reach his fingers towards her trapped feet. “You’re going to pay for thahahahahat! Stahahahap it!” She claws at the floor in front of her, unable to escape his stubby nails scraping their way across the padded flesh of her upturned feet. Throwing yet another pathetic punch at her assailant, tapping him atop his shoulder having not even been phased, she is reminded just how little she has to defend herself in this predicament, pounding upon the mat as to relieve just a bit of her torments. Mouth agape, her maniacal laughter echoes through the open space, a combination of forced mirth and moans of embarrassment melding together into the pathetic display she is rendered to. Finally, after much struggling, the need to get away from her torments giving her newfound strength, she yanks the length of chain from under his shoe, having finally relieved herself of his tickling. However, as she stands herself upright, she only falls into the arms of the first fighter, a look of glee across what amount of his face she can recognize.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!” she shrieks at the tops of her lungs, only to be met with being tossed into the corner of the ring, her petite stature not enough to resist being thrown like a ragdoll as she collapses into the poll. Leaning up on the ropes, she is dumbfounded to find both arms pinned on either side of her, the result of two more masked fighters having waited for her just outside the ring. How foolish she feels herself to have been, trusting that they would follow the rules, despite being proven right from the start that it is being made up as they go. Just as she thinks about kicking herself away, her ankles are once again pinned down to the floor, rendering every appendage she has immobilized. As they surround her on both sides, pinning her against the corner with the weight of four bodies against her, she finds herself completely helpless to avoid twenty little appendages ravaging her midsection all at once.
“SSSTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAPP!!” she barks at them, feeling them dig their horrendous fingers into the hypersensitive flesh in between her protruding ribs. Having loosened her uniform just enough through her struggles alone, they are just able to slip their hands underneath the fabric, taking advantage of the vulnerable flesh underneath, with two going hog wild tickling her as the other two hold her tight. Despite her best efforts, that stalwart resolve she had been trained to foster is now betraying her, being torn to shreds right in front of her eyes having to endure such a continuous onslaught, all accompanied by the painful flashbacks it was inciting deep within her.
Having moved to the United States quite early in her life, with such a petite stature given to her at birth, young Mai found herself victim to the brutal methods of the local girls jealous of the attention she got as a high-achieving student. Frequently she would find herself cornered on the playground, wrestled down as she was tickled extensively by upwards of six other people, far away from anybody to even here her scream. As though it would matter: shoving her socks into her mouth, they would tickle her relentlessly until the bell rang, taking her new shoes with them, leaving her to explain her lack of footwear to the principal later that day. It was through the efforts to combat her weakness that she took up judo in the first place, hoping that she would soon be able to escape any grapple or hold she had been placed under. For the time being, it was successful, even turning the tables on a few unwitting ticklers as she regained her honor match by match until, just recently, she was crowned the top female fighter in her area. However, now with the tides having been turned back to where they were, all those feelings of despair were coming back to haunt her as a fully grown adult.
In desperation, with their horrendous fingers digging deep into her underarms and hips, she thrusts her head forward, knocking one of her assailants in the lip as he collapses backwards in pain. Using their diverted attention to her advantage, she wriggles her way out of their grasp, running to the middle of the ring to ascertain her situation. She looks backwards, watching her assailant’s speedy recovery unfold right as two more wrestlers enter the ring from behind, making the total number of foes now six, just five more than she is accustomed to. At this point, she tosses her confident demeanor right out the window.
“WHAT, YOU CAN’T ME TAKE ON BY YOURSELVES, MOTHERFUCKERS?!” she screeches at them, wrenching her head side to side to catch all of them in the act, watching them enclose her in an ever-shrinking circle in the middle of the mat. “YOU’RE ALL PATHETIC, YOU HEAR ME?! BE MEN AND FIGHT ME FAIR AND SQUARE!! COME ON!!” In what universe did she expect a fair fight to unfold, having been bound in such a degrading fashion even before it began, she could not understand. Her desperation is palpable, the color having been syphoned out of her face through the fear of knowing just what is to happen next. Suddenly, she is grabbed by the left wrist, followed by the right knee, one by one as she is wrenched unto the mat solely by their body weight. Kicking and screaming all the way down, it is only after a short struggle that she is lying flat on her back, rendered in a perfect x-position, with an assailant pinning down each of her limps giving her no leeway to resist. She attempts to bite them, swinging her head side to side in pathetic fashion as a fifth masked figure grips her by the head, pinning that too unto the mat. It is then she watches the final figure reach behind him, revealing a metal ring in between two leather straps, setting it just so gently atop her pursed lips. She hasn’t the slightest clue just what they could be planning but, from her experience as of now, it would be in her best interest to resist whatever they throw at her.
Unfortunately for her, that would not be in theirs: all in unison, they ravage her body, with two digging into her underarms and sides, while the other two scrape their way into her feet with both hands. She is tickled ruthlessly by the quartet of ticklish terrors, rendered pitifully helpless unto the floor. All the while, her lips are pursed, clenching her teeth as the gag sits precariously atop her lips, waiting for the very moment she lets slip a random shriek or hapless guffaw. Screaming bloody murder behind her closed mouth, clamping her eyes shut as hard as they’ll go, just how long she expected to last this long she could not have specified. It could have only been fate as the two seated upon her legs raise their hands at, without mercy, begin pulsating deep into the muscle of both thighs, finally breaking her resolve.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” she screams the moment they pounce, giving them just enough time to slip the ring in between her teeth, keeping her mouth in that same reaction of terror as it is buckled behind her head. Now, having let just one yelp of forced mirth slip out, she releases a sheer torrent of cries and laughter, now unbridled in just what she is able to suppress. Her strained gullet forces out a myriad of primal shrieks and cackles, the totality of her childhood suffering now rearing its ugly head all at once, without the slightest ability to resist it. Little could she know the ripe enjoyment her captors are deriving from her suffering, having rendered such a powerful fighter into a helpless little tickle pet of their own, forced to submit to a destiny the likes of which she could never truly hope to resist.
“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Wallowing in her self-pity, lips wrapping helplessly around her simple yet effective gag, she is swiftly being reduced to a pitiful heap of girlish laughter. Her eyes burn, the mixture of tears and anguish making them turn red as she suffers underneath their torments. She can only look out of the corner of her eye as one of the figures approaches her, watching the blurry figure reach towards his waist to drop his pants, bearing his throbbing erection. In her state, having been rendered so helpless, she could only imagine the myriad of things they could do to her body, with rape and dismemberment at the top of her horrific list. However, as she watches him hover over her face, stroking his manhood just a few feet above, she finds herself both haplessly relieved and pathetically vulnerable.
She chooses not to look, the prospect of being defiled by this faceless and wordless stranger, in an unknown place, without a soul in the world to be concerned for her well-being, just too much to bear in full. She can only listen as he moans to climax, a short two minutes after beginning as he spills his seed across her face and chest. She gags, having just the slightest drop fall atop the back of her tongue, forced to feel it slide into her throat and down her strained gullet. All the while, the tickling continued, with each spectator silently indulging in her fate as a cum dumpster of all things.
They each do the same, one by one rising from their perch, trading positions as they drop their pants, exposing themselves before their captive. Reaching down to their nude member, they masturbate themselves to orgasm, spilling their cum all over her without regard for her senses. Like clockwork they do this, over and over, rounding the circle a full three times as she is coated in a hazardous mixture of sweat, tears, and semen. Not one moment do they let up, exploiting every inch of her person as the ticklish lightning rod it truly is. As her hair sticks to the floor underneath, feeling every drop of their juices running across the length of her body, poor Mail finally discovers just what true defeat feels like.
Finally, after what seems to be far more than a mere hour, the buzzer rings, with the six assailants silently exiting the arena just as they entered, leaving her sperm-coated body where it lays. Her spirit is broken, the fight within her having been syphoned out through the endless stream of horrendous and degrading torments they could have bestowed upon her. She could only imagine herself trapped in the depths of hell, having perished a painful death and forced to endure her punishments for the pride she showed during her career, for no six mortal beings could possibly come together and inflict something as this without anybody knowing about it. However, when a pair of figures enters the area, cleaning supplies in hand, she only then realizes that this is true reality crashing on top of her. If only she knew of the dozen or so girls facing a similar fate in rooms just down the hall, or the pair of spectators watching in the control room upstairs, then maybe she could be more willing to accept her fate as reality.
“Now that was intense!” Darcy notes, staring into the surveillance screen, watching their captive be sprayed off by the clean-up crew.
“Yes, no expense was spared in satisfying my boys,” says Headmistress Orion, standing just behind her, salivating over the ripe paycheck she earned from this one session alone.
“This was the Board of Directors, right?” Darcy asks, hoping that her boss will divulge the information she usually withholds.
“Not exactly: these are a group of investors behind a securities firm based out of Casper, Wyoming. They scheduled this little event in the name of “team-building,” hoping to come together as a better company, and as their instructor, I give them a perfect score.” Swiveling in her chair, Headmistress Orion leans over her desk, taking hold of the small microphone placed just adjacent to her name placard, lifting it up to her lips as she begins to speak.
“Attention all members!” she announces, as Darcy watches the collection of guests stop their activities on the screens before cueing her boss to continue. “The lottery is to begin in one hour. Please, for any of you participating in the lottery, make the appropriate preparations to be present at precisely 9:30 PM. Any time that was spent participating in the lottery draw will be credited to your account. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your night!” She sets the microphone down, reaching for her tablet as she begins scrolling through the list of girls she has on her roster.
“What’s the lottery looking like now?” Darcy asks, knowing she could never gather the funds to even buy one ticket, the sum of which would cover a full year’s rent. Such was not a total loss, as a ticket did not guarantee a girl for the night, while her job guaranteed full entertainment for far longer.
“Well, including little Miss Mai and our new girl Tara, with Naomi having already been reserved for the night, I’m afraid we’ll only have to choose seven winners tonight.”
“But I thought we only had six girls available for the lottery,” Darcy states, finding her math to never be failing her, yet now realizing that she’ll have one more session to put in her files.
“Well, it seems our little violinist Natasha got out of one of her binds during her session today and scratched her client: not too badly, but enough to violate our zero-tolerance policy on violence against the patrons. Now, I’m out a full session, and our client has to worry about explaining this scratch to his wife when he gets home tonight. So now, she’s going to have to be schooled in the ways of obedience yet again.”
“What are you planning on doing with her?” Darcy asks, her suppressed desire to jump in not falling on deaf ears with her attentive boss.
“Well Darcy,” Headmistress begins, pulling out a drawer in her desk, revealing a golden sheet of paper with her name on it. “I don’t know how it happened, but it appears as though you’ve won the lottery. Congratulations!” Launching up from her perch, Darcy rushes over to her boss, grasping the ticket with absolute glee as she rushes out of the room, gathering everything she will need for her session tonight. Headmistress Orion can only look on in pure satisfaction, knowing the encyclopedic knowledge her assistant holds of all things tickling-related would prove highly effective in suppressing any rebellious inklings her little violinist could have, especially after the full eight hours the lottery guarantees.
The End
“In this corner: weighing in at a formidable 125 lbs, it is…” a female voice suddenly comes over the loudspeaker, its tone akin to that of an announcer. “Mai Tai! Let’s give her a hand!” Mai glances about, knowing for sure she was not in any official match, her confusion and anger reaching a boiling point.
“Welcome Miss Tai,” the announcer says, its tone just a tad bit condescending from Mai’s point of view. “I hope you’re enjoying the fighting area we’ve constructed especially for your arrival. I apologize for making you wait, but we just had to make sure everything was laid out perfect before we could begin. Are you ready for your first challenger?” Truly she is joking: not only was she left completely immobile in her position, but now she must face multiple challengers while bound to the floor? No, this wasn’t right, but it certainly wouldn’t be enough to dishevel this seasoned fighter in any way.
“You think this scares me?!” Mai shoots back, showing that formidable façade that has won her many titles before. “I don’t care if you tie both hands behind my back: I’ll kick the ass of anybody who walks on this stage!”
“That’s good, because your opponents have paid quite the sum of money to get everything you can throw at them,” she answers back, the ample enthusiasm in her voice sending a shiver down Mai’s spine. “Here’s what’s going to happen: when the buzzer sounds, the match will begin. Once that happens, the ring keeping you right where you are will disengage, giving you the ability to move freely about the stage. You will have one hour to fight your way out of the ring, facing each of your opponents one at a time. However, I suggest you do so in a timely manner lest you swiftly become overwhelmed: each of them is scheduled to go on every five minutes, meaning you could soon become hopelessly outnumbered. Only when you have subdued them all will you be let to leave by your own accord. If you try and escape before completing this objective is met, you can expect a shock from your collar to paralyze you where you stand.”
She glances to her left, catching sight of an unknown figure climbing through the ropes into the ring. He is clad in a luchador outfit, the traditional mask shrouding his identity, and the bright blue bottoms with gold accents a far contrast from her modern apparel. The moment he steps into the ring, the buzzer sounds, that which sends a jolt of energy through Mai’s person as though she were priming herself for a real match. It is then that the spiral retreats into the floor, letting her move about the ring to the best of her abilities. Standing herself upright, she confronts the masked figure, a look of sadistic ferocity scrawled across her brow.
“You have no idea who you’re messing with chump,” she proudly states, cracking her neck to the side as she puts her fists up in a defensive position. “Come and get me!” The man responds in turn, slowly approaching her on the outer perimeter of the ring. She may not know exactly who she is up against, but it does not matter: she is the best, and now she merely has to prove it. As he approaches, he raises his hands, directing them towards Mai as he begins wriggling his fingers in curious fashion. What his intent may be, she hasn’t the slightest clue, but she sure isn’t going to wait around to find out. She steps forward, launching a mighty strike right into his upper belly, a crippling spot that has taken down opponents stronger than this sack of nothing. He recoils for a brief moment, only to stand back up tall, approaching her again once more.
Motherfucker! she curses to herself, the abysmally soft material encasing her hardened knuckles rendering her strike all but completely useless. Had she known just how handicapped she would be rendered for this match, then she would have started playing dirty the moment the bell rang. Taking aim at his groin, Mai swings her leg up for a horrendous kick, forgetting that her ankles were bound together in the manner. Two attempts have been made that would have ended the match the moment it began, but all have been nullified by the binds she has no control over. Collapsing backwards unto the floor, Mai has just enough sense to look up at her opponent, lunging at her this very moment. In one swift motion, she rolls herself to the left, narrowly avoiding his pouncing tackle as he collapses unto the floor.
This is it! This is my chance! she assures herself, shuffling just behind the man just as he is about to get up, placing her forearm around his gullet, trapping him in a devastating chokehold that has become a specialty of hers ever since placing second in the state championships. Even without her legs wrapping around his midsection, her upper body strength alone is enough to keep him right where he is. A wave of satisfaction washes over her, knowing that even in such dire straits she could so easily come up on top, be her opponent female or male. However, her reveling is cut short by the sight of another opponent entering the ring, his attire in the same fashion as the one slowly losing oxygen in her grasp. He approaches her, that which does not deter Mai from staying the course.
Oh no! You’re not loosening this grip! she reassures herself, seeing out of the corner of her eye his slow approach. There’s nothing you could possibly do to get me to stop…what the hell?! It is then that she senses him kneeling behind her and, taking his fingers, begin gently swirling them into the crevices of her underarms.
NO FUCKING WAY!! she bellows internally in utter disbelief at the fate that has befallen her: he is tickling her! Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined being put in such a helplessly vulnerable state as to allow someone to tickle her from behind. She purses her lips, fighting the annoyance that is swiftly building up inside of her, having never encountered such a devious trick in all her years of semi-professional fighting. Even through the thick material of her garb, the sensation is maddening to say the least, as teetering giggles begin seeping out of her gullet one by one, her lips peeling back into a trembling grin. What little she could do to defend herself from a direct assault was being played with, completely helpless against the manipulation of the childhood weakness being used against her without the least bit of effort on his part. Her will to render the man unconscious before letting go was failing her, as it was only by her own accord that she was to release her grasp from her opponent, tossing him unto the floor as she rolls away from the tickling that was inflicted upon her.
She hears the man gasp for breath behind her, knowing she had ultimately failed and will now have two opponents to contend with. To think that they would resort to something so juvenile to use against her was boggling her already disheveled mind, trying to comprehend just what kind of trouble she is finding herself in. However, as she begins crawling away, she is stopped dead in her tracks, looking back to find her opponent stepping on the length of chain between her ankles.
“Get the fuck off me!” she barks at the masked assailant, trying her best to yank the chain from underneath his heavy boot, only to watch him slowly reach his fingers towards her trapped feet. “You’re going to pay for thahahahahat! Stahahahap it!” She claws at the floor in front of her, unable to escape his stubby nails scraping their way across the padded flesh of her upturned feet. Throwing yet another pathetic punch at her assailant, tapping him atop his shoulder having not even been phased, she is reminded just how little she has to defend herself in this predicament, pounding upon the mat as to relieve just a bit of her torments. Mouth agape, her maniacal laughter echoes through the open space, a combination of forced mirth and moans of embarrassment melding together into the pathetic display she is rendered to. Finally, after much struggling, the need to get away from her torments giving her newfound strength, she yanks the length of chain from under his shoe, having finally relieved herself of his tickling. However, as she stands herself upright, she only falls into the arms of the first fighter, a look of glee across what amount of his face she can recognize.
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!” she shrieks at the tops of her lungs, only to be met with being tossed into the corner of the ring, her petite stature not enough to resist being thrown like a ragdoll as she collapses into the poll. Leaning up on the ropes, she is dumbfounded to find both arms pinned on either side of her, the result of two more masked fighters having waited for her just outside the ring. How foolish she feels herself to have been, trusting that they would follow the rules, despite being proven right from the start that it is being made up as they go. Just as she thinks about kicking herself away, her ankles are once again pinned down to the floor, rendering every appendage she has immobilized. As they surround her on both sides, pinning her against the corner with the weight of four bodies against her, she finds herself completely helpless to avoid twenty little appendages ravaging her midsection all at once.
“SSSTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAPP!!” she barks at them, feeling them dig their horrendous fingers into the hypersensitive flesh in between her protruding ribs. Having loosened her uniform just enough through her struggles alone, they are just able to slip their hands underneath the fabric, taking advantage of the vulnerable flesh underneath, with two going hog wild tickling her as the other two hold her tight. Despite her best efforts, that stalwart resolve she had been trained to foster is now betraying her, being torn to shreds right in front of her eyes having to endure such a continuous onslaught, all accompanied by the painful flashbacks it was inciting deep within her.
Having moved to the United States quite early in her life, with such a petite stature given to her at birth, young Mai found herself victim to the brutal methods of the local girls jealous of the attention she got as a high-achieving student. Frequently she would find herself cornered on the playground, wrestled down as she was tickled extensively by upwards of six other people, far away from anybody to even here her scream. As though it would matter: shoving her socks into her mouth, they would tickle her relentlessly until the bell rang, taking her new shoes with them, leaving her to explain her lack of footwear to the principal later that day. It was through the efforts to combat her weakness that she took up judo in the first place, hoping that she would soon be able to escape any grapple or hold she had been placed under. For the time being, it was successful, even turning the tables on a few unwitting ticklers as she regained her honor match by match until, just recently, she was crowned the top female fighter in her area. However, now with the tides having been turned back to where they were, all those feelings of despair were coming back to haunt her as a fully grown adult.
In desperation, with their horrendous fingers digging deep into her underarms and hips, she thrusts her head forward, knocking one of her assailants in the lip as he collapses backwards in pain. Using their diverted attention to her advantage, she wriggles her way out of their grasp, running to the middle of the ring to ascertain her situation. She looks backwards, watching her assailant’s speedy recovery unfold right as two more wrestlers enter the ring from behind, making the total number of foes now six, just five more than she is accustomed to. At this point, she tosses her confident demeanor right out the window.
“WHAT, YOU CAN’T ME TAKE ON BY YOURSELVES, MOTHERFUCKERS?!” she screeches at them, wrenching her head side to side to catch all of them in the act, watching them enclose her in an ever-shrinking circle in the middle of the mat. “YOU’RE ALL PATHETIC, YOU HEAR ME?! BE MEN AND FIGHT ME FAIR AND SQUARE!! COME ON!!” In what universe did she expect a fair fight to unfold, having been bound in such a degrading fashion even before it began, she could not understand. Her desperation is palpable, the color having been syphoned out of her face through the fear of knowing just what is to happen next. Suddenly, she is grabbed by the left wrist, followed by the right knee, one by one as she is wrenched unto the mat solely by their body weight. Kicking and screaming all the way down, it is only after a short struggle that she is lying flat on her back, rendered in a perfect x-position, with an assailant pinning down each of her limps giving her no leeway to resist. She attempts to bite them, swinging her head side to side in pathetic fashion as a fifth masked figure grips her by the head, pinning that too unto the mat. It is then she watches the final figure reach behind him, revealing a metal ring in between two leather straps, setting it just so gently atop her pursed lips. She hasn’t the slightest clue just what they could be planning but, from her experience as of now, it would be in her best interest to resist whatever they throw at her.
Unfortunately for her, that would not be in theirs: all in unison, they ravage her body, with two digging into her underarms and sides, while the other two scrape their way into her feet with both hands. She is tickled ruthlessly by the quartet of ticklish terrors, rendered pitifully helpless unto the floor. All the while, her lips are pursed, clenching her teeth as the gag sits precariously atop her lips, waiting for the very moment she lets slip a random shriek or hapless guffaw. Screaming bloody murder behind her closed mouth, clamping her eyes shut as hard as they’ll go, just how long she expected to last this long she could not have specified. It could have only been fate as the two seated upon her legs raise their hands at, without mercy, begin pulsating deep into the muscle of both thighs, finally breaking her resolve.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” she screams the moment they pounce, giving them just enough time to slip the ring in between her teeth, keeping her mouth in that same reaction of terror as it is buckled behind her head. Now, having let just one yelp of forced mirth slip out, she releases a sheer torrent of cries and laughter, now unbridled in just what she is able to suppress. Her strained gullet forces out a myriad of primal shrieks and cackles, the totality of her childhood suffering now rearing its ugly head all at once, without the slightest ability to resist it. Little could she know the ripe enjoyment her captors are deriving from her suffering, having rendered such a powerful fighter into a helpless little tickle pet of their own, forced to submit to a destiny the likes of which she could never truly hope to resist.
“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Wallowing in her self-pity, lips wrapping helplessly around her simple yet effective gag, she is swiftly being reduced to a pitiful heap of girlish laughter. Her eyes burn, the mixture of tears and anguish making them turn red as she suffers underneath their torments. She can only look out of the corner of her eye as one of the figures approaches her, watching the blurry figure reach towards his waist to drop his pants, bearing his throbbing erection. In her state, having been rendered so helpless, she could only imagine the myriad of things they could do to her body, with rape and dismemberment at the top of her horrific list. However, as she watches him hover over her face, stroking his manhood just a few feet above, she finds herself both haplessly relieved and pathetically vulnerable.
She chooses not to look, the prospect of being defiled by this faceless and wordless stranger, in an unknown place, without a soul in the world to be concerned for her well-being, just too much to bear in full. She can only listen as he moans to climax, a short two minutes after beginning as he spills his seed across her face and chest. She gags, having just the slightest drop fall atop the back of her tongue, forced to feel it slide into her throat and down her strained gullet. All the while, the tickling continued, with each spectator silently indulging in her fate as a cum dumpster of all things.
They each do the same, one by one rising from their perch, trading positions as they drop their pants, exposing themselves before their captive. Reaching down to their nude member, they masturbate themselves to orgasm, spilling their cum all over her without regard for her senses. Like clockwork they do this, over and over, rounding the circle a full three times as she is coated in a hazardous mixture of sweat, tears, and semen. Not one moment do they let up, exploiting every inch of her person as the ticklish lightning rod it truly is. As her hair sticks to the floor underneath, feeling every drop of their juices running across the length of her body, poor Mail finally discovers just what true defeat feels like.
Finally, after what seems to be far more than a mere hour, the buzzer rings, with the six assailants silently exiting the arena just as they entered, leaving her sperm-coated body where it lays. Her spirit is broken, the fight within her having been syphoned out through the endless stream of horrendous and degrading torments they could have bestowed upon her. She could only imagine herself trapped in the depths of hell, having perished a painful death and forced to endure her punishments for the pride she showed during her career, for no six mortal beings could possibly come together and inflict something as this without anybody knowing about it. However, when a pair of figures enters the area, cleaning supplies in hand, she only then realizes that this is true reality crashing on top of her. If only she knew of the dozen or so girls facing a similar fate in rooms just down the hall, or the pair of spectators watching in the control room upstairs, then maybe she could be more willing to accept her fate as reality.
“Now that was intense!” Darcy notes, staring into the surveillance screen, watching their captive be sprayed off by the clean-up crew.
“Yes, no expense was spared in satisfying my boys,” says Headmistress Orion, standing just behind her, salivating over the ripe paycheck she earned from this one session alone.
“This was the Board of Directors, right?” Darcy asks, hoping that her boss will divulge the information she usually withholds.
“Not exactly: these are a group of investors behind a securities firm based out of Casper, Wyoming. They scheduled this little event in the name of “team-building,” hoping to come together as a better company, and as their instructor, I give them a perfect score.” Swiveling in her chair, Headmistress Orion leans over her desk, taking hold of the small microphone placed just adjacent to her name placard, lifting it up to her lips as she begins to speak.
“Attention all members!” she announces, as Darcy watches the collection of guests stop their activities on the screens before cueing her boss to continue. “The lottery is to begin in one hour. Please, for any of you participating in the lottery, make the appropriate preparations to be present at precisely 9:30 PM. Any time that was spent participating in the lottery draw will be credited to your account. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your night!” She sets the microphone down, reaching for her tablet as she begins scrolling through the list of girls she has on her roster.
“What’s the lottery looking like now?” Darcy asks, knowing she could never gather the funds to even buy one ticket, the sum of which would cover a full year’s rent. Such was not a total loss, as a ticket did not guarantee a girl for the night, while her job guaranteed full entertainment for far longer.
“Well, including little Miss Mai and our new girl Tara, with Naomi having already been reserved for the night, I’m afraid we’ll only have to choose seven winners tonight.”
“But I thought we only had six girls available for the lottery,” Darcy states, finding her math to never be failing her, yet now realizing that she’ll have one more session to put in her files.
“Well, it seems our little violinist Natasha got out of one of her binds during her session today and scratched her client: not too badly, but enough to violate our zero-tolerance policy on violence against the patrons. Now, I’m out a full session, and our client has to worry about explaining this scratch to his wife when he gets home tonight. So now, she’s going to have to be schooled in the ways of obedience yet again.”
“What are you planning on doing with her?” Darcy asks, her suppressed desire to jump in not falling on deaf ears with her attentive boss.
“Well Darcy,” Headmistress begins, pulling out a drawer in her desk, revealing a golden sheet of paper with her name on it. “I don’t know how it happened, but it appears as though you’ve won the lottery. Congratulations!” Launching up from her perch, Darcy rushes over to her boss, grasping the ticket with absolute glee as she rushes out of the room, gathering everything she will need for her session tonight. Headmistress Orion can only look on in pure satisfaction, knowing the encyclopedic knowledge her assistant holds of all things tickling-related would prove highly effective in suppressing any rebellious inklings her little violinist could have, especially after the full eight hours the lottery guarantees.
The End
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