isuckwithnames
Registered User
- Joined
- Dec 30, 2023
- Messages
- 34
- Points
- 18
Lately I have been lying awake at night, plagued by an existential question: Is there ever a valid reason to not tickle torture a hot anime gal to the point of a whimpering, begging mess?
I firmly believe the answer is no, but even if there is, it surely wouldn't apply to this irresistable, absolute piece of eye candy. A near all-powerful creature from the realm of fiction with stunningly attractive feet and an ego larger than life... naturally, she had to be put in her place. Those of you who have watched Frieren will know who I'm talking about - Serie, the shameless serial foot teaser and toe wiggler had it coming. For every second of screentime spent presenting us her bare soles, waving her cute toes at us provocatively and her stubborn insistence to remain completely barefoot for the entirety of season 1, those dainty little feet will suffer.
The second mage starring in this story may be a less obvious choice, although she was an instant favorite of mine with her mysterious strength and slightly unsettling vibe. Now that I've read beyond what the anime covers... no spoilers here, but boy does she fit a story like this. This lady is completely off her rocks to a point where I genuinely believe the events in this story aren't too far fetched. To illustrate what I mean, I've taken the liberty to include some of my favorite panels at the bottom. Also, I have tried to match the classical language of the English translation of the manga, which imo does a fantastic job at capturing the fantasy vibe.
Now, let's celebrate the soon-to-come arrival of Frieren Season 2, and indulge in a feast of heavenly ticklish elf feet!
A Dangerous Woman (Part One)
~~29 years after the death of Himmel the Hero~~
The city of Äußerst, jewel of the Northern Lands. Resplendent on an island in the middle of a crystal clear mountain lake, its sandstone walls rose from the cold waters, an everlasting monument to mankind's ambition. Its proud battlements stood against the pale blue of the surrounding mountains like the spires of a crown, the emerald cupolas of its mighty guard towers blazoned the wealth amassed thanks to blooming trade.
Yet neither this imposing bulwark encircling the city nor the pageantry of the merchant houses inside it, manmade as they were, could ever hope to compete with the magnificent beauty that magic was able to create. Paying tribute to this insurmountable gap, the pearl white tower of the Continental Magic Association reared into the sky, visible from far and wide. It shimmered in the light like a scepter of ivory, eliciting wonder and amazement from those who laid eyes upon it for the first time.
Those who were adept in the art of magic themselves may have experienced a more wondrous sight still. Even at the height of noon, it seemed like the morning sun was just rising above Äußerst, blinding the beholder and warming his skin with its dazzling light. The atmosphere around the august white tower was singing with energy, glimmering and distorting like air in the summer heat. This strange phenomenon, unnoticed by those incapable of sensing mana, had persisted for several months now - ever since a most eminent guest had taken residence in the majestic building.
Tap tap tap.
The Great Mage Serie reposed upon her throne, alone in the grand audience chamber of the Continental Magic Association which she had created half a century ago. The light pouring through the latticed windows set her golden hair aglow, her purpure robe trimmed with ermine flowed down her slim shoulders. Despite barely filling the seat of her throne, the ornate backrest overtowering her by more than a head, the tiny elf exuded an aura of overwhelming power. And yet, somehow, she found herself in a state of unrest.
Tap tap tap.
One of her bare feet nervously tapped against the cushioned seat. Her naked legs crossed, her chin perched on her hand, Serie let her amber eyes drift around the room with a sullen look on her face, wondering how it had come to this.
Everything had seemed to fall in her favor at first. Her decision to personally conduct the final examination had proven most auspicios. She had reaped in a truly excellent harvest this year, a welcome surprise given the disappointing quality of recent candidates. Yet more pleasing, she had banned Frieren from entering any Association faculties for the next one thousand years - time enough to mull some things over for this meek elf, whose childish idealism vexed her to no end. But ever since then, matters had taken a decidedly disagreeable course.
Tap tap tap.
No, maybe it had already started back then. Back when she had received the candidates in her magic flower garden. What had she called her?
...Small and cute...
The elf's dainty toes curled in distaste, her morose expression darkened even further at the unwelcome memory. What a truly disconcerting character.
Methode, the Second Class mage had piqued her interest from the beginning. She could sense no tenacity from her at all, yet this almost timid woman had taken lives without hesitation during the first exam. Hypnosis, healing and offensive magic - she possessed an unusually complex arsenal of techniques, combined with calm and analytical thinking. An ideal First Class in the eyes of Serie, who valued strength above anything else.
Still, that answer had made her question whether the woman was of sound mind. Moreover, she couldn't forget that unpleasant tingle running down her spine, the enamoured gleam in the woman's gaze as she looked her up and down, from her long, pointed ears to her bare feet, as if she were a lost kitten in need of cuddling. In truth, part of the reason why she had immediately passed Methode was because she dreaded being alone with her.
Tap tap tap...
Serie shifted her petite weight, resting her elbow on the other knee while her restless foot drew circles in the air. Her golden eyes glowered at the empty room as she contemplated every mistake that had led her into this dismal situation.
She had known full well that Methode, given her evident prowess as a mage, would simply retake the test in three years if she decided to fail her - a frighteningly short time span. Thus, Serie chose to deal with this bedeviling woman in the most efficient way: By appointing her First Class Mage, taking her as apprentice and deputing her on some mission far, far away from here. In the war torn regions of the Northern Plateau, where the chaos and instability brought about by the marauding remnants of the Demon King's forces were sure to keep her tied up indefinitely.
Tap tap tap.
That plan had undoubtedly backfired. A deep furrow between her brows, the elf twirled a strand of golden hair between her fingers while her delicate foot continued tapping its anxious rythm. A truly regrettable miscalculation on her part - she had failed to anticipate how markedly disturbed many of her mages were at the prospect of accompanying Methode. Noticeably, the outlook seemed to spread terror among young girls in particular, with Second Class Mage Edel dropping to her knees and begging her not to leave her alone with "that dangerous lady", until Serie begrudgingly called off the search.
This blunder left her in a less than desirable position. Deputing a new apprentice on a solo mission would have raised questions, questions of the sort she was not willing to answer. Just the thought of confessing to Lernen or Falsch that that woman's enthralled gaze lingering on her small frame made her nervous and fidgety. That despite being a great mage from a long forgotten era predating both mankind and demonkind, she didn't dare to object when that woman affectionately ran her fingers through her hair at every chance. That she felt a scorching heat creep up her ears right to their pointed tips whenever she had to endure those detestable remarks about how "adorably petite" she was, how delightful the "cute pitter-patter" of her bare feet on the polished marble tiles or how endearing her "little scowl" when she was displeased with something.
Tap tap tap tap tap.
Her small hands clenched into even smaller fists as she shook her head with grim determination. No, that was out of the question. She was Serie, the mage from ancient times, who possessed might beyond human comprehension. She was the one who stood atop the world of magic. The mere thought of disclosing something so shameful caused an involuntary wiggle of her toes.
However, her refusal to let anyone in on her plight also deprived her of any means to escape this woeful situation. Methode had taken up quarters in the designated chambers for first class mages, and Serie could feel her harrowing presence at every waking moment.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap.
That tall, slender woman with her gentle smile. With her bashful demeanor and mellifluous voice that masked the voracious beast underneath. She waylaid her at every turn, despite Serie's best efforts to avoid the towering brunette. Those awfully long arms always caught her, those hands that would lovingly graze her pointed ears or caress her head whenever she wasn't quick enough to dodge them. Not to mention the sweet coos and childish praises that forced her to lower her head, lest anyone witnesses her profuse blushing.
"Tssk!"
A sharp hissing noise could be heard as the elf scowled, waving her hand in irritation as if to shoo away the unwelcome thoughts. Her ears twitched in anger. That impudent wretch! The gall of that young bird, who could have hardly seen more than two dozen winters. An insignificant speck of dust compared to her own life! What a miniscule, laughable amount of mana she possessed, a flickering candlelight compared to the all devouring maelstrom roaring within herself. Even in its suppressed state, the overwhelming pressure of her aura engulfed the entire hall like a raging forest fire. A flick of her wrist, no a mere glance would have sufficed to erase the scoundrel from existence, if she so desired.
Then why? Why was she holed up in her throne room, brooding alone in her misery, out of fear of running into her in the hallways? Why had she not refused this preposterous - this unconscioanable request of hers?
Serie pulled her knees up to under her chin, hugging her slender legs. Riven by anxiety and self doubt, she twiddled with the bracelets around her ankles while her small, bare feet nervously rubbed against each other.
This was a grave crisis. If word of this got out... She could not allow this humiliating procedure to repeat at any point in the future. Unacceptable! The next time the two of them crossed paths, she would show her no mercy. She would teach this insolent apprentice to pay her due deference! Oh, she would...
Tok tok tok.
Knocking on the heavy double doors. The series of taps was gentle, but resounded through the empty chamber. Sense, without a doubt, here to badger her about yet another missed appointment or other trifling matters. Sullenly, Serie raised her head that had been resting on top of her knees.
"Go away, Sense. I have no patience for your sermons today."
She lowered her head again, only for it to jolt back up in disbelief as with a creaking noise, the door opened anyway. Hurriedly, she assumed a more dignified posture, with her legs crossed and one hand supporting her chin in a thoughtful pose. Her amber eyes flared up in anger.
"I thought I had made myself clear! Sense, do not test my..."
"Ehem..."
With a polite cough, a young woman stuck her head between the parted wings of the door. Long, glossy hair with the color of roasted chestnuts framed a soft face, graceful features complementing her tentative smile as she partly leaned into the room.
"Please pardon the intrusion, Serie-sama... I merely thought, since I cannot depart on my mission yet... that um, we could pass some time together..."
Serie's eyes widened in alarm. As if petrified, the tiny elf sat on the throne that was decidedly too large for her, watching as Methode entered the room without even awaiting her permission. The woman had a youthful appearance, a tall, svelte figure with the right proportions to fill out her top worn under a black corset. She moved with elegance, her long legs clad in wine red leggings, a white cape billowing around her as she approached her, the Great Mage Serie, without a care in the world. The heels of her tall boots clicked on the marble floor with every step she took.
A pleasant appearance through and through. But Serie, possessing the unrivalled instinct of one who had been alive for many thousands of years, saw through this charming mask. She saw the greed flicker in those eyes, barely concealed by her gingerly smile. This harpy, harassing her even in her last refuge.
"First Class Mage Methode" she replied curtly, regaining her poise after a split second of silent awe at this brazen behaviour. "Pass time together? Whatever gave you that idea? Moreover, I don't recall inviting you inside."
Methode came to a halt, slightly taken aback by her master's sharp tone. Easily overtowering the scowling elf as she stood before the throne, she awkwardly fiddled her thumbs while looking off to the side.
"Ah, well, you see..." she mumbled softly. "It's what we... Uh, regarding our arrangement... Since Serie-sama has so graciously allowed me..."
The elf's lithe toes clenched in unease. So that was what she was after. How utterly dreadful. She could feel warmth on her face, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance both at her own nervousness and her apprentice's stammering. The sooner she could get this over with, the better.
"I... um, may I caress your head again?"
Yes. Such were the depths of her despair. In her inexorable quest to make her life as miserable as possible, her relentless pursuit of bodily contact - be it smothering her with loving hugs, ruffling her hair or gently pinching her ears, all of which she loathed - this detestable woman had ultimately worn her down. In a desperate bid to contain her apprentice's unreciprocated acts of tenderness, she had found herself begrudgingly agreeing to a compromise. Methode, to her delight and Serie's discontent, had exclusive sanction to caress her head - for ten minutes each day.
"Since, I mean... I believe it has only been about five minutes today..."
A shadow clouded the elf's face, her eyes gleaming under her steadily lowering brows. As usual, the reasoning behind this woman's deranged behaviour eluded her. How could she stand there so innocently and give her this hopeful smile after uttering something so outrageous?
"Methode. You are harder to avoid than the pestilence, you know that?" she grumbled, her fingers drumming on the armrest of her throne. "You won't even grant me one hour of repose?"
Not afflicted in the slightest by this harsh reception, Methode's coy smile remained unchanged.
"Oh dear! I am sorry to have bothered you, Serie-sama... it's just, um..." She cast down her eyes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Your head fits my palm so nicely... And your hair feels soothing to the touch. It would make me really happy if I... could pet it again..."
The heat spreading across her face was getting impossible to ignore. Cursing her pale complexion that made it so easy to spot the blush on her cheeks, Serie's glare hardened.
"You may not" she declined, all the more terse to compensate for her growing embarrassment.
"And we agreed to call it 'caressing', not 'petting'!"
If she hadn't been profoundly irritated up to this point, the adoring giggle that followed certainly would have done the job.
"Hehe~! Oh pardon, it slipped my mind..."
The woman took another step forward, and despite her best efforts to appear menacing, Serie couldn't help but instinctively tuck her head.
"But, if I may be so bold... won't you please bless me with just a few minutes of um, caressing? Serie-sama is so adorable when she..."
"Enough!" Serie snarled as she further retreated from the approaching danger, scooting back on the satin cushioned seat of her throne. "I will not hear anymore of this. No more caressing today, and no more of your demented ravings!"
"But..." Methode replied meekly, her face falling in disappointment. "But Serie-sama... it hasn't even been ten minutes today... and you promised..."
"So? What of it?" the elf responded surly, casting a warning glance at the mage from lidded eyes. Contrary to her commanding tone, she had assumed a rather defensive position, huddled up in the furthest corner of her seat.
"I recant my promise. Henceforth, you may only caress my head for five minutes each day. Now begone, or I shall revoke your priviliges fully."
"Umm... but..."
She could not believe it. This exasperating woman was still standing there, nervously casting down her eyes while fiddling with her hands.
"But I feel like... Serie-sama has found enjoyment in it as well... so perhaps uh, it would brighten your mood..."
Serie felt the blazing heat on her face spread like a wildfire. It crept up to the very tips of her long, slender ears, which gave an involuntary twitch as the great mage lost countenance for a moment.
"Wha... haah?" she stammered, even forgetting to glare at Methode. "Whatever gave you that impression? Are you sane, woman?"
"Eeh... um, you see..." the brunette tittered, squirming like a young lass awaiting her first kiss. "It's actually what you just did... when Serie-sama gets excited, her... her ears start twitching..."
She looked up, meeting her master's appalled gaze with an enthralled grin.
"It's just awfully cute~"
Serie's golden eyes were gleaming now. Clenching her teeth, the petite elf struggled to contain herself as she felt her temper slip.
"It would seem I have been far too lenient with you, First Class Mage Methode" she growled, her brows furrowing dangerously.
"I've had enough of your impudence. You may no longer caress my head, or any other part of me for that matter. Now leave, I am telling you for the last time."
Finally, her words seemed to have the desired effect. Methode, who had drawn closer almost within an arm's length of her throne, was thunderstruck.
"What? No, please..." the mage weakly protested. Not without a hint of satisfaction, Serie observed as the svelte brunette sunk to her knees, appearing crestfallen.
"Serie-sama, this is too harsh! I beg of you, please reconsider..."
"Spare me" Serie ungraciously interrupted the distraught woman. While glad to have finally mustered the nerve to rebuke her bothersome apprentice, the brief dispute had left her rather exhausted. Nevertheless, she felt more at ease now. Reassuming her sophisticated pose, the elf lounged in her throne.
"You have tested my patience enough for today. Now then, I believe you know what to do."
Closing her eyes as if to signify that the conversation was over, she arrogantly lifted her bare foot, her long toes pointing towards the door.
"..."
Her eyelids fluttered open in surprise, only to return to their usual languid, half closed position after a moment. The smug satisfaction on her face gave way to a look of resignation.
"Methode. What are you doing?"
Even on her knees, the young mage was only barely shorter than her.
"Oh...! I thought... oh, I do ask your pardon" the brunette meekly apologized, looking up at her with a bashful smile. "You had me confused... I thought you meant..."
Past the point of anger, Serie simply stared in bewilderment at this human who held her small, dainty foot in her hands. One had clasped the elf's ankle, which was so slender that her fingers easily closed around it, the other one cupped her smooth, gently curved heel in her palm. A surreal moment passed, with neither speaking a word.
"Say" Serie mused, her amber eyes resting heavy on her apprentice. "Are you actually an idiot?"
"You are being harsh, Serie-sama..." Methode shrunk under her master's condescending gaze. "You were raising your foot and I, uhh... assumed you might be... disposed to a massage or..."
"Tch! Why would I... oh, whatever."
She gave up. There was nothing she stood to gain from trying to untangle this woman's bizarre reasoning. With an exhausted sigh, the barefooted mage rubbed her temples.
"You are dismissed. Let go of my foot now."
Incredibly enough, she did not feel her foot being released. If anything, it seemed Methode's grip was tightening ever so slightly.
"But... I believe this would greatly help reduce your stress" the kneeling mage softly murmured. A faint blush adorned her cheeks.
"And, if I may be so candid, Serie-sama... has truly adorable little feet~"
All of a sudden, Serie felt a familiar tingle run down her spine. That greedy flicker, that sweet adoration in the woman's gaze. It slowly wandered up her delicate foot, taking in every detail of her flawless, creamy white sole until it arrived at her elegant toes, appreciating their slight inward curl. Everything about it gave her an ill foreboding.
"Methode!" she repeated in the most assertive tone she could muster, despite her eyes widening in concern. "Relinquish my foot at once!"
But her words did not reach Methode who seemed to be in her own world, a smile playing around her lips as she looked her master's small, naked foot up and down. She giggled as the elf's adorable toes clenched, cocking her head in an almost flirtatious manner.
"Ooh, hehe~! I will admit, I have always been rather fond of these lovely feet of yours... they are most charming..."
A feverish blush consumed Serie's face, her ears giving such a sharp twitch that her small golden ear cuffs clinked.
"What in the world...? You have the presumption..." Serie spat, baffled by this girl's recklessness. With her petite, regrettably bare foot in the young woman's grasp, exposed to her covetous gaze, the all-powerful mage felt a completely foreign sense of vulnerability.
"They aren't for you to leer at! I am warning you, if you don't let gnn-hnnnn!"
"Hmm...?" Methode looked up, surprised to see her master's dignified expression twisted into a wide grin. The small elf had gritted her teeth, indignantly staring at her from a single eye while the other was tightly squeezed shut.
"Is something amusing you, Serie-sama?"
"B-believe me, I am anything but amused" Serie growled, quickly regaining her poise. "And if you touch me so casually once mohorepfffffht!!"
Curious, the younger mage repeated the same subtle motion. Spellbound by this beautifully shaped, dainty foot in her grasp - its adorable size, the tenderness of her high arch, the pale complexion of her immaculate sole - she hadn't been able to resist briefly tracing the contour of her invitingly smooth heel with her thumb. Now, on its second journey over the elf's soft skin, her finger elicited a barely suppressed snort.
"Oh, my~ What an unusual reaction, Serie-sama!"
"Khh...! Methode, you damned fool!" Serie's golden eyes flared up in wrath, but there was something else hidden in her glare. Something that didn't escape her enthralled apprentice, whose shy smile widened into a beam of delight as she saw the prideful mage struggling to keep down the trembling corners of her mouth.
"Do you know how easy it would be for me... no, don't you daaahahare!! Naaa-hahahaha!!"
Her foot scrunched up, delicate wrinkles forming across the length of her sole as Methode scribbled several fingers in the elf's pale, creamy white arch. Playfully swishing across the gently sloped valley, her fingertips painted a picture of ticklish hilarity right in the center of Serie's vulnerable sole. It ended as suddenly as it had begun, leaving the elf with a look of utter shock painted on her face, while the brunette was swooning with delight.
"Eheee~ Oh dear, don't tell me... Is Serie-sama actually... ticklish~?"
No matter how infernal the fire in Serie's gaze, it could not compensate for the rapid twitching of her ears and the scared, yet undeniably tempting wiggle her slender toes gave. The elf mage nervously tugged at her foot, dismayed to find her apprentice tightening her grip around her ankle.
"If you do that again... By the Goddess, I swear I will... STOP!!" she snapped, her commanding tone trailing off into an undignified yelp he saw Methode's long, wiggling fingers converge on her tender sole once more. "Don't lay another finger on me, or I will make you regret it!"
"But you haven't answered my question..." the flaxen woman smirked, halting her attack with a twinkle of mischief in her blue eyes. "Serie-sama... These darling little feet are ticklish, aren't they? How very endearing~"
"Ti... ticklish, me?" Serie sputtered, disgusted by the very notion. "You are delusional, Methode."
"Oh, is that so?" the mage giggled, her master's insults leaving her as untroubled as her empty threats. "Then I suppose you won't mind if I do this...?"
With quick, precise movements, her nimble fingers fluttered up and down the elf's scrunched up, nervous foot. It was so small that she almost didn't need to move her hand to cover the entire length with the stroke of a finger, her nails ever so lightly grazing the impossibly soft skin. With a violent spasm, the elf's little toes frantically clenched down before fanning out as if they were blown away by the ticklish shock, drawing her sole perfectly taut.
"NAAA-HAAAA-HAAAA!!" Serie wailed, her voice overflowing with mirth - sounds that no living being wandering this earth had ever heard before.
"M-Methodenahaa-haaa-haaaa!! Cehee!...cease this at ohohooonce!! Ahaaa hahahaa!!!"
"Oh myyy~" The tall, svelte woman remained on her knees, her master's petite foot firmly in her grasp, observing its frantic writhing and shaking with a look of pure enchantment. "This is mesmerizing... I could watch your foot squirm around all day, heehee~"
Without respite, her fingers explored the shorter mage's delicate sole, exquisitely smooth and free of imperfections. The supple skin was yielding to her touch like a pillow, its tender warmth almost addictive as her fingertips glided along the gracefully curved arch. It was white like fresh snow on a winter morning, as if not a speck of dust had stained it during the elf's many thousand years of life. Just the faintest blush could be made out on her heel and the cushiony ball of her foot, as well as her lovely little toepads.
"Nnaahahaaa, ohahahaa!! You demented wohoeeaa-haaa-haaa!! Do yohou have a deeeheath wihihihiiish?! Aaaahaha-!!"
Oh, those toes alone could have kept her entertained for hours. They were slender and elegant, fairly long compared to her diminutive foot, but undeniably adorable. Their soft, bubbly pads were adorned by a charming rosy hue, unlike the pale undersides. Methode found herself staring at those toes as they seemed to wave at her, clamping together tightly before splaying out, squirming in ticklish terror, performing a hypnotizing dance of helpless hysteria.
"BAAAHAAHAAA!! Daahaamn it you ahahaa!! Insolent AHAAA, apprehentihahahaaa!! OHOOOouu aaaahahaha!! Stohop this madness rightnahaa-HAHAHA!!!"
"...Oh, I do apologize..." Methode smiled, unwaveringly polite even as her nails were brushing across her master's naked, writhing foot, each ever-so-gentle touch eleciting another burst of wild, unrestrained laughter.
"I got distracted... but I must say..." Her index finger drew little circles and figure eights in the elf's smooth, quivering arch, causing her toes to twitch and spasm in panic.
"I have never seen Serie-sama so happy... I believe we should keep this up for a while~"
"Ggghhrrrraha, aaaha-HAHAHA!!" Serie growled, desperately trying to bottle up the forced mirth bubbling up from the depth of her stomach, before erupting in a fit of boisterous laughter. "NOOO AHAHAHAA!!! Methode aaahahahaa, youhuu dahamn wretch!!"
Clutching the silvered armrests of her throne, digging the heel of her free foot into the satin cushion and desperatly trying to pull her leg free, the Great Mage Serie was cackling in open mouthed hilarity. Disbelief and confusion showed in her wide open eyes, completely bereft of their usual condescending boredom.
"You brahahaat!! Naahaha-HAHAHAAA!! I demahahand that you stoohooop!!"
How could this be happening? Was she not the Living Grimoire? Was she not the mage from the Mythical Age, as old as the very rock this city was built upon? Then how, how could she being overwhelmed so easily? How could mere nails teasing her soles be so utterly maddening? What was this strange feeling of mirth, this unbearable hilarity gushing forth whenever she opened her mouth? Serie felt like she was being toyed with, her body and mind subjugated just by the touch of a few fingertips. This feeling of helplessness was one she hadn't known, and she detested it.
"AAHAHAHAAAA!! Hahaah, oho why youuu...!! Grrhhnnnaa-AHAaha HAAAHAHAAA!!! M-Methodeahaha, I COMMAAHAND you to stohaahaap!!"
Paying her angry commands no heed, the younger mage held onto her ankle with the strength of a praying mantis. Her ravenous claws mercilessly exploited the softness of her bare sole, chasing down her jumping, flailing foot wherever it tried to escape. Methode didn't grant her a second of respite, her gentle swipes and swishes endlessly forcing those clumsy, rowdy cackles out of her that she hated so much. Serie's laughter was unrefined and chaotic, nothing the melodical giggles one would have expected of a girl her size. Laughter that would have been unbecoming even of a dairymaid, let alone herself. And she was the culprit behind it, this degenerate wretch - wearing the most innocent of smiles, as if she wasn't committing a heinous crime right now.
"I... I'm afraid I cannot stop... Serie-sama is just, mmmh~ irresistable when she is all worked up like this~"
"WHAHAT?! Aaarrrhh, you daahamna-HAAHAA!! Do you hahave willow AHAHA cotton in yohohour heheaad, you morohonaHAHAAAH!!!"
Throughout her long life, Serie had acquired an abundance of convenient spells that would shield her feet against rough surfaces, dirt or even the cold, keeping them spotlessly clean, cozy and warm. Thanks to these magical comforts, the elf had no reason to wear shoes except when the occasional mood struck her. She enjoyed feeling the polished marble floors under her feet, or leisurely bathing them in the clear pond of her flower garden, watching the silver droplets of water trickle down her pale skin. She had never wasted a thought on how exposed her feet were in their permanent naked state - and how utterly defenseless against such underhanded methods of torture. A fatal oversight that left the proud elf both aghast and humiliated.
"Mahaa-haa-haaa!! Ohoho ahhaaha you dementeehed wohoman HAHAHAHAA!! Leheave my f-foohoot aloahahaah, NOHOT THERE!!"
Methode on the other hand was enraptured. Effortlessly holding her master's petite foot still, a sigh of pure delight slipped past her lips. The young woman dreamily tilted her head, her adoring gaze following the frantic writhing and jumping as her nails waved up and down the royally soft, velvety sole. Her fingers were slender and feminine, yet just two of them were enough to cover almost the entire width of Serie's arch with their teasing strokes. Her touch was playful and gentle, yet just barely grazing the sublime skin with her nails was rewarded with spasmic twitching. In a desperate effort to protect itself, Serie's perfectly smooth sole scrunched up as her wild, guffawing laughter resounded through the hall.
"Naaa-haHAHAHAAA!!! I will mahake you snort paha-ahaHAHAYY for thihis ahahaaah!! Let gohohoo GYAAHAHAAAH!!!"
"Aah~!... Serie-sama truly has the most adorable laugh~" Methode swooned, unable to resist teasing the elf whose tiny fists were now pounding against the armrests, raspy howls of mirth spilling from her mouth. "It's quite different from your usual demeanor, hehee... so rambunctious~"
The fingers of her free hand performed a capricious swirl over the elf's supple arch, before trailing up her instep and lightly scratching away at the plump, squishy cushion of her inner ball. Her adoring smile widened as another gale of raucous cackles swept through the room. Serie was losing herself in the ticklish onslaught, wordlessly staring daggers at her while her face was contorted in helpless hilarity.
"Hehee~! Honestly, Serie-sama, the way you laugh is so cute... it much reminds me of the little boys in my hometown~"
The atmosphere in the room underwent a sudden change. Methode felt the hairs on her neck stand up as the air came alive with buzzing static. The windows began rattling in their frames. Startled by the explosive surge of mana, more violent than she had ever felt before, the young woman's grip loosened for a split second - enough time for the elf to yank away her trapped foot, immediately bringing it back to the safety of her cushioned seat. Protectively clutching her bare foot in both hands, as if she wasn't ever going to let it go, the small mage rubbed her tingling sole with her thumbs like a cat licking its wounds. An adorable image, Methode thought, if it wasn't for the clear bloodthirst in her gaze.
"Haah... what haah... what did you just say, Methode?"
The elf spat her words between clenched teeth, every syllable sharp as a knife. She was breathing heavily, her eyes gleaming menacingly under disheveled golden hair. Even her lovely blush and the cute wiggle of her toes as she cradled her small, dainty foot could not belie the elf's wrath. Lowering her head, Methode took a few steps back.
"Ahh... it seems I have overstepped. I apol-"
"What did you say?" Serie cut her off, her voice a low growl. Although the midsummer sun was at its zenith, the shadows appeared to grow longer and darker.
"Uh, uuhm... a-are you self-conscious about your laugh, Serie-sama...? But it is so adorable..."
The elf raised a hand, and with a sharp crackling noise a green flame burst forth, sizzling and popping as it danced on her open palm.
"Serie-sama..." Methode said, her pale face showing worry. "You are not going to kill me, are you?"
Serie's amber eyes were piercing hers. The fire painted half her face in flickering shadows as a cruel grin bared her teeth.
"Nay, I'd hate to kill one of my students. I am magnanimous after all..."
"Oh... thank-"
"... thus, I shall merely take one arm" the elf finished her verdict. "That should allow you to resume your studies, while serving as a reminder."
Methode swallowed. Then she extended her arm as well, her slender fingers closing around a staff that materialized by her side.
"I am truly sorry, Serie-sama. But I cannot allow that."
"Ohooh~?" Her master raised an eyebrow half mocking, half in curiosity. "So you have some mettle after all. I don't dislike it!" The elf leaned forward, her excited grin widening as her apprentice pointed her staff at her.
"Do not disappoint me, Methode!"
Several days had passed since the conclusion of the First Class mage exam. It had been an unusual examination in more than one regard. First, because the Great Mage Serie had taken it upon herself to appraise the remaining candidates. Second, because it had yielded graduates at all. This meant that for the first time in many years, Serie would have to redeem the pledge made to all candidates - to grant each of them any one spell they desired.
It was a duty she quite enjoyed performing, even though the elf's languid expression didn't give it away as she sprawled on her throne, lazily dangling her bare feet that couldn't even hope to reach the ground. Granting the new First Class mages their wishes offered fascinating insights into their minds. Magic that allowed to deceive, to manipulate, to kill - magic that could heal, create wondrous and beautiful things. The variety of spells she had gifted was as strange and miscellaneous as the humans who asked for them. In a way, even though these short-lived creatures and their oddities still mystified her, Serie thought it allowed her to connect with her students on some level.
There was Land, the cautious strategist who had never set foot into Äußerst and relied purely on his cunning to win. Übel, the vagabond who had killed Burg, a girl whose perception of magic was as crooked as her soul. The imperial mage Denken had surprised her with his tenacity during the exam, and had done so once more when stating his wish just earlier today. The child Fern had perhaps left an even stronger impression, but she was clearly a lost cause - eccentric and whimsical with her head in the clouds, just like her master, that insolent chick.
And then, there was this woman. Serie could not figure her out, her usually sharp intuition failed her when it came to this tall, flaxen haired girl. She could not shake off a vague sense of unease when talking to her. Even so, her wish was certainly an interesting one.
"A spell that won't allow other mages to cast magic...?" she mused, her chin resting on her hand as she looked the svelte blonde up and down. "Hmmm... Such a spell does exist. But learning it would be a waste of time."
"Oh... m-may I ask why, Serie-sama...?" the young mage inquired, clearly dejected.
"Because it is useless" Serie bluntly replied. "It is ancient sorcery, much older than the modern systems you humans have devised of late. An obscure technique with no practical application. It has no merit in battle."
She noticed the woman's eyes wandering lower as she splayed her dainty toes in boredom, hooking onto each bubbly digit with the curled toes of her other foot and stretching them one by one.
"Magic, no matter which form it takes, is merely the materialization of what you can visualize. Can you picture an inferior mage bereft of their powers? Most likely, but then you will have far more efficient ways of beating them at your disposal."
She crossed her bare legs, her upper foot waving left to right as she spoke. For some reason, the young woman blushed slightly.
"Now suppose you are fighting a superior mage. One you cannot hope to defeat with conventional means. Only then would this spell prove its worth. However: When faced with death, can you picture such a mighty foe without their ingrained magic techniques? Can you truly conceive it - a mage who is far stronger than you are, yet helpless and at your mercy? By virtue of my experience, it is impossible. And therefore... Hey. Are you listening?"
"O-oh! Why yes, I am" Methode stuttered, giving her master a shy smile.
"So you do understand the issue? Your wish is ill-advised. This magic won't be of any use to you."
The woman pressed her lips together, looking off to the side with a small giggle instead of meeting her gaze. Her blush seemed to have intensified further with those last words.
"I thank you for your concern, Serie-sama. But please believe me... there won't be a problem."
"Frydwahrer."
Serie knew what had happened, even before the blistering flames licking at her fingers sputtered and died. Empty handed, the small elf was frozen to her large throne, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief.
"Oh, it worked" Methode remarked happily, lowering her wand. Her face showed the mild surprise of someone who had just won a consolation price in a raffle. "Well... I did practice it on Edel before, but still..."
Serie blinked in confusion. Her ermined shoulders and even her long, pointy ears drooped as the Living Grimoire slumped down in her seat. Unable to hear a word her apprentice said, she wordlessly stared at her empty palm. She snapped her fingers once, twice and a third time, hoping to reignite the fire. Nothing happened.
"It really is a fascinating magic" the young mage went on, her staff disappearing as she strolled towards her master. "Although I do not quite understand the principles behind it... One would assume that such a powerful spell consumes a great deal of mana, yet it is surprisingly easy to handle..."
The golden haired elf saw the tall, slender figure approach her, but remained seated as her head was swimming with confusion. How in the world had she done it...? This was impossible... an anomaly. There wasn't a mage alive in the world that should have been able to cast this spell on her, Serie. It went beyond mana control or mere power - something was fundamentally amiss here.
She lifted her chin, looking up to this human girl who loomed over her, with that adoring smile that now, in her helpless state, was more terrifying than ever before.
"Methode... what..." For the first time in many thousand years, she found her voice unsteady.
"What do you see in me?"
"Eeeh...? Umm... I believe I already told you, Serie-sama" Methode replied, bashfully covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. Her eyes twinkled with delight.
"I think you're just... small and cute~"
Tiny clinking sounds chimed like little bells when Serie's ears perked up, causing her golden ear cuffs to clack against each other once more. The world's strongest mage turned away her face, unable to resist the heat burning on her cheeks.
"Tssk! I see you are beyond help" she hissed between gritted teeth, making sure that her long golden braids covered the charming red of her face. The situation was humiliating enough already.
"Nevertheless, I admit that you have exceeded my expectations. It would seem that I have made a wise decision in taking you as my apprentice... despite your many shortcomings. N-now if you would release the spell..."
As soon as the words had left her mouth, unusually shaky despite her best effort to keep some veneer of confidence, she knew that it wasn't going to be so easy. There was something in the girl's eyes, something that went beyond mere glee or savoring her victory - a certain curiosity, innocent and yet deeply unsettling.
"But... Serie-sama... did you not just try to take my arm...?"
"Ah?" Serie blinked, her commanding exterior crumbling a bit further. Over the sheer insanity of what had transpired just now, she had completely forgotten her boastful declaration just a minute ago. "Ahhh... let bygones be bygones, right? You can keep it."
"As always, Serie-sama is most generous" Methode replied, her bright smile dispelling any suspicion of sarcasm. "But... about my ten minutes of caressing your head..."
The elf turned around, craning her neck to glare up at the young woman.
"Does your audacity know no bounds!?" she grumbled, her small face clouded by anger once again. "After all you have done... You think I will ever allow youhuu-pfffffthhahahaah!!"
In the blink of an eye, Serie was curled up into a ball, protectively hugging herself as she scurried into the furthest corner of her seat. Her droopy amber eyes were wide open in shock as she yelled at her apprentice, albeit with small giggles interrupting her burst of anger.
"Are you mad, womahan?!! Don't you dahahare t... t-tickle me again, or by the Goddess I will..."
"Oooh~?" Methode chuckled, mischievously wiggling her long fingers that had just been digging into the elf's soft, sensitive tummy.
"To be honest... I was hoping Serie-sama would say that..."
"M-m-methode!!" She stuttered, scooting back on the satin cushion until she was pressed up against the backrest of her throne. There was a distinct tremor of panic in her voice. "I... I warn you... I won't forgive you a second t-time!"
Her only answer was the enamoured smile on the woman's face as her slender hands drew closer and closer. Serie's mouth twitched, an involuntary grin spreading across her face before the fingers had even touched her.
"You reckless fool! If you value your life at all... No, no don't!! Methode NOOOHOHOHOOO!!!"
Nothing could stop those hands from invading the fabric of her loose white top and eagerly clawing away at her tender, unspeakably sensitive sides. Not her empty threats, not her instinctive attempts to crawl back further, away from those wiggling and pinching fingers. Not her desperate efforts to grab Methode's wrists, to keep them at an arm's length from her smooth, porcelain white tummy, even if it was only an elf's arm. And not, to her deeply felt shame, the subtle shaking of her head and the almost pleading look she gave the girl who was many thousand years younger than her, only to be ignored anyway.
"GYAAHAHAHAHAAA!!! MEEPHMMMHAHAHA METHOOHODE NAAA-HAAA-HAAAA!!! CEEEHEHEASE THIS INSTAHAHANTAHAHAAA!!"
Those delicate, womanly hands were inside her clothing, making full use of how vulnerable the draped blouse left her slender waist and her soft, pliable sides. Those hands that were so gentle, yet inflicted so much ticklish suffering with every touch to her trembling tummy. She couldn't see them, she could only scream and squeal with laughter as she watched them crawl around beneath her top like giant spiders, forcing more undignified, ridiculous hysteria out of her with every squeeze, wiggle and poke.
"GAAAHAHAHAA NOOHOAHAHAHAA!!! I WILLAAHAHAHA KIHILL YOHOUHUHUU!! NOOOHOOO AHAHA GET OUT GET OHOHOUUT!!"
The fingers were everywhere. They were scurrying up and down her shivering sides, fluttering over her quivering tummy, prodding and pinching her supple, smooth skin. No matter how much she twisted and squirmed, they followed her movements easily - scribbling up and down her ribs, ticklishly vibrating between them, making her shriek as they ventured up further to tease right below her small breasts, bare and unprotected, then howl with laughter as they dropped to squeeze her adorable hips.
"WAAHAHAHAAAAAAH!!! AHA-OHOHOO YOU HAHAHAVE TO STOP THIHIIIS!! I COMMAHAAA, COMMAHAND IHIHIT....!!!!"
"Hehe, what was that Serie-sama...?" Methode beamed, far too enraptured by her master's mindless hysterical reactions to pay her orders any heed. "It is quite hard to understand you when you're laughing so much~"
"AAAAAAH!!! You dahaamn brahahaHAHAHAAT!!! I SHALL PUAHAHAAHAHAHAH AHAHA NAAHAT THEEEERE!!!"
"Aaaw~" The flaxen maiden cooed, a sound so full of loving adoration that Serie felt her ears tingle. "You're so adorable when you're angry... especially with that cute boyish laughter of yours~"
Her fingers expertly stroked and caressed her master's soft, squeezable tummy, pinching the little rolls and flabs of delicate flesh and rolling them between her fingertips. She couldn't see her hands, but she didn't need to: The desperate spasming of the elf's shaking muscles, the exquisite smoothness and warmth of her skin guided her fingers and led them towards unrecovered treasures of ticklish delicacy. Serie's eyes bulged at her words, the elf's face showing a priceless mixture of hilarity and fuming wrath.
"S-STOHOHOOP AAAHAHAHA MOHOCKING MEEEHEHEEEE!!!" she blurted out between bursts of tumultuous laughter, entirely proving Methode's point. The almighty mage was squirming like a worm, kicking her feet in helpless hysteria as she held on to her student's wrists, desperately trying to pull away her hands. Methode looked at her face, flushed a deep cherry pink from anger, embarrassment and ticklish fever, and saw tears sparkling in the elf's amber eyes. Her master had never looked more beautiful.
"Why, Serie-sama..." she said, just a hint of impish satisfaction in her mellow voice as she watched the object of her adoration writhe under her fingers. Serie was completely overwhelmed, gasping for breath, glaring daggers at her from teary eyes while her face was contorted into a happy grin that seemed absurdly out of character.
"I wouldn't dare to mock you... This is but my heartfelt admiration..."
"IIAAHAHAHAA HAVE NOHOO NEEHEEHEEEED FOR AHAHAH!! YOURAHAAA-HAAA-HAAA, ADMIRATIOHON OWAHAAHAA!!!"
More indignant remarks followed - mostly related to the ghastly torments that awaited her from what she could tell - but Methode's nimble fingers cascaded down the elf's soft, exquisite tummy again and began teasingly circling her small belly button. Childish cackles and yelps spilled from Serie's lips, rendering any and all threats and promises of gruesome punishments obsolete.
"KYAAHAHA NOOHOHOOO!!! NOHOO MEHEETHODEHEAHAHA DO NOHOHOT!! AHAHAHAAAH!!! T-TOUCH MEHEE THEHEHEHRE!!"
"Not there, hmm~?" Methode probed sweetly, accentuating her question with a few light scribbles dangerously close to the sensitive little orifice that made the elf's laughter spiral into panicked shrieks. "Then I suppose... here would be fine, yes~?"
Her neatly trimmed and polished nails gave a small parting wiggle just inside Serie's delicate navel, then ventured even lower to tease the smooth, untouched skin of her lower abdomen. They skittered across the pale white canvas, ever so lighty teasing the supple tenderness between the elf's narrow hips, dancing back and forth just above the hem of her shorts.
"AHAAGAHAHAHAHAA, YOU STUHUPIIHIHD WOHOMAAAHAHAN!! DONT AHAHA TOUCH MEHEEE SO C-CAHASUALLEEHEEEY OHOHMAHAAHAA!!!"
The light, tantalizing scribbles turned into hearty pokes and prods. The flawless white skin yielded to her touch like butter, allowing the younger mage's fingertips to sink unbearably deep into her master's shamefully ticklish tummy, setting all the deeply rooted nerves ablaze. Methode could feel Serie's tiny fingers clawing into her wrists as she tried to pull them away with all her might.
"NAAHAHAAAAAH!!! YOU WIIIHIHILL OOHOMMMPFFAAHAHAHA!!! YOUAHA WILL SUFFER FOR THIHIS METHODEHEHE!!"
The elf doubled over, wheezing and snorting and hitting all sorts of notes that one would never expect to come out of such a small body. Methode meanwhile was spellbound, marvelling at the sight of her ticklish toy with a look of pure bliss on her face. She was so delicate, so sensitive, so outrageously adorable - and the murderous wrath in her eyes made her even more endearing. Oh, that precious last ditch effort to keep a little bit of dignity, even though the deep blush on her face and her beautiful, wide grin spoke louder than all those harsh words.
"Oh, Serie-sama... please don't give me such a scary look..." The young woman smiled, gently lifting her master's garment with one hand while playfully digging her nails into her squishy lower belly. The draped linen parted, exposing the elf's smooth, ivory colored tummy - a perfect playground of pliable, squeezable softness, with her small navel playfully peeking out from beneath the white fabric.
"Hmmm, your cute belly button is looking at me as well... I might just decide to play with it a little~"
Serie was seething at this insolence. The bursts of tumultuous laughter were interspersed with gasps for air as the tiny mage prepared to launch another tirade, but a few quick, well aimed squeezes at her tender sides quickly reduced her to a helpless, blubbering mess.
"AAAH-MPHHAHAAHAHAA!!! MEHETHOHO- OOOHOUAHAHA OHAHAHAAAA!!! IMMAHAHA K-KIHIHIHILLYOOUHUHU AHAHAAA..."
"Ooh, so angry~" Methode cooed sweetly, her heart beating faster as she saw Serie giving up on trying to hold her wrists and instead hammering against the throne's armrests with her small fists. "Serie-sama is always so ill-tempered... and sooo easy to tease~"
Not wanting to push her to the brink just yet, the straw-blonde girl spared her master's enticing belly button for now and went back to tracing the silky line of awfully sensitive skin right above her shorts. With delight, she watched the elf's bare feet flailing and kicking, trying to dig her heels into the cushion to help herself stand up, but slipping on the smooth satin. After several unsuccessful attempts, accompanied by some rather unbefitting profanities amongst frantic laughter, the small mage managed to stand.
"Aaahahaha... y-you... wretched thing..."
Just barely taller than the human apprentice who knelt before her, and barely out of the reach of her arms, the elf stood huffing and puffing, covering her stomach with her hands as if just the thought of those nimble fingers grasping her sides again was too much to bear. Her teary eyes gleamed from underneath her dishevelled golden hair. One of the braided bangs framing her face had become undone, her regal red robe hung somewhat askew from her heaving shoulders.
"T-this ahaha time..." she stammered and giggled through strained breathing, her voice shaky as she furiously glared at her apprentice. "This time, I shall... grant you no mercy...!"
"Umm..." Methode looked up at her master, meeting her scorching wrath with the most innocuous smile. "Be that as it may... after you have punished me, will I be allowed to pet your head again?"
Not for the first time today, the Living Grimoire was at a loss for words. As she opened and closed her mouth in stunned silence, the rage escaped her body like the fumes of a dead campfire.
"What?" she uttered in perplexion. "Were you not listening...?"
"I see. So you reject me again" the girl sighed, but the excited glint in her eyes did not match her words. Serie fliched when she saw those long fingers give a mischievous wiggle.
"Then I suppose... my dearest Serie-sama might need some convincing, right...?"
"Tchh...!! Damned brat!" the elf spat, narrowly evading a well-aimed pinch at her sides by pivoting and slapping the greedy hand away. "Convince me?! As if I would yield to such childish..."
Fully occupied with fending off the clawing, wriggling and poking fingers creeping towards her tender midriff, as well as delivering her monologue with due grandeur, the elf did not realize that she was standing on the seam of her royal cape - that is, until she took a quick sidestep and suddenly felt her foot entangled in the red velvet. With a small yelp of surprise, the mage toppled off her throne, aimed face first towards the floor - before two saving hands gently caught her.
"Please watch your step, Serie-sama..." Methode smiled. The woman stood up, looking down at the petite elf cradled in her arms. She felt so light, almost weightless... and her face was even more beautiful up close.
"Hmph! Keep your advice for yourself!" Serie huffed, appalled to find herself in the dreaded embrace of her tantalizer. She turned her head away indignantly, refusing to meet the young woman's gaze.
"It was your fault in the first place. Now put me down."
A long, quiet moment passed, and Serie felt the familiar heat run rampant on her face as she was still nestled in the girl's arms. Her head snapped back with an intense glare.
"Methode! P-put me down this instant!"
Methode remained quiet, in silent awe at the lovely sight of her master's flustered expression. The elf was blushing again. Her ears gave small twitches, like the excited tail of a puppy. Even in her anger, she was so adorable... no, it was precisely because of her anger that Methode could not resist her. That proud, defiant glare, the small tears of laughter sparkling in the corners of her golden eyes...
"Arrrhh!! Methode!!" A tiny fist came flying and landed on her nose, the pain rousing the young woman from her charmed trance.
"Ouch! That hurt, Serie-sama..."
The dainty mage was twisting in her arms like a feral cat, growling and hissing as she tried to escape.
"Put me down! Let go of me, you scraggy broad! I am the Living Grimoire, not a bread basket..."
Her furious commands became a gasp as Serie once again felt the touch of Methode's fingers gliding under the fabric of her blouse, followed by panicked giggles as her body responded almost immediately to the anticipated sensation.
"Wha--?! Noo aha, nonohoho don't you DARE!!"
Trying and failing to snatch her disciple's unruly hand, the all powerful mage could only watch as her loose top was pulled up in one swift tug, leaving her tastefully pale, delicate midriff bare up to right below her modest breasts.
"There we go~" Methode's sweet voice accompanied the scandalous act, giggling in delight as she was greeted by the sight of this soft, invitingly exposed tummy. With the obstructive garment out of the way, she went back to embracing the small bundle in her arms, pressing her master's arms to her sides. The petite elf was fuming.
"AAARH!! Pull down my blouse, you degenerate! Put me down this instant! PUT ME DOWN!!"
"Serie-sama really is grumpy today~" the girl tittered, now feeling her own cheeks flare up as she stared down at the pale, creamy canvas of untouched skin. Impossibly smooth and tender, the only unevenness being her adorable belly button, Serie's abdomen was quivering from the elf's nervous breaths. Enthralled, Methode bit her lower lip.
"Soo... how about I cheer you up a little~?"
Serie momentarily paused her valiant struggling as the young woman gave her a feverish smile. Looking into her student's blushing face, showing pure genuine adoration, it once again crossed her mind how puzzling these humans were. Where did this strange excitement come from? Why did this girl seem as if just holding her in her arms was the highest of pleasures? She could feel the woman's ample chest heaving, two plump, squishy pillows pressing against her as she was cradled. She could feel her warmth. The twinkle in her eyes as they gazed at her so longingly, and so close to her own...
"Wait. W-what do you mean by...?"
Only when Methode looked down at her with her cheeks blown up from taking a deep breath, sugar sweet mischief in her eyes, and began to lower her head - only then, Serie understood the calamity that was about to befall her.
"NOOO!!! NO, DON'T EVEN THIHIINK ABOUT EEHEETAAAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! BAHHAAA-HAA-HAAAA!!!"
The very moment the woman's lips touched down upon her tender stomach, Serie lost all semblance of control. Her body was twisting and contorting, trying to curl up into a tiny ball to protect her bare, vulnerable midriff - to no avail. She howled and shook with uncontrollable, guffawing laughter before it had even begun, just from her student's nose and chin nuzzling into her delicate tummy. And when it did come, all the greatest mage could do was scream.
"AAAWWHAAHAHA, GYAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! N-NAHA, NOOHOHO NOT THAAAHATAHAAAHAHAHA!!!"
A second one followed before she could even catch her breath, before the pulsing and tingling left by the previous attack had begun to dissipate. The elf wailed in ticklish agony, throwing her head back while every muscle in her body spasmed. Those lips pressing into her supple skin, tantalizingly vibrating against her flesh, punishing her innocent tummy with such ruthlessness.
"M-M-METHODE I CAAHAA-AHAHAHA, YOHOWAAAHAHEEHEEE AHAHAAAHAAA!!!
A third one, and another one. Helplessly twisting in her student's tight embrace like a fish caught in a net, her fingers twitching and balling into small fists as she desperately fought to at least free her arms, to guard her poor, tormented belly, the elf began to wish she had simply granted Methode her stupid head pats. She snorted between her cackles, feeling tears of delirious laughter run down her face.
"Oooh is someone a little sensitive here~?" a gentle, but teasing voice chimed through the haze of laughter, as the younger mage resurfaced from another dive in her smooth, pliable tummy.
"Can't this grumpy little elf handle a few raspberries...?"
Her golden eyes opened, flickering with rage, blinking away the tears as Serie attempted to object to such flagrant mockery, but her indignant protests went under in a gale of laughter as the girl's grinning mouth invaded her bare stomach again.
"UUHUAAAHAHAHAHAHAA!! I AM NOOHOHOT AAHAHAHAHA G-GRUHUMPEEHEEEHEE!!! QUIT IHIIT AHA OHOOHOUOHU I OHORDEAHAR YOUHUU...!!!"
"No more giving orders~" the blonde smiled, gazing down at her with so much tender affection that it made her head spin. "No more shouting and pouting... just laugh, Serie-sama~"
"M-M-METHODE NOOOHOHOO!!! NOHOT AGAIN HYAAHAHAHAHAHAA NOT AGAAAHAHAIN!!!"
It didn't make any sense. There was no glee her voice, no malice in those blue eyes. Everything she did and said seemed so kind and playful - then why, by the Goddess, was she torturing her so much? Why didn't this madwoman ever stop, when she was so clearly desperate for a break?
"NOO, NOOOHOOAAHAHAHAHAAAH!!! I HAAAHAHAHAAH I CAAHAN'T!! NO MOHOHOAAHAHARE!!"
The tickling was unbearable. Among the many thoughts whirling in the chaos that was her mind, Serie wondered when she had been tickled for the last time. Had it been four thousand, or five thousand years...? Her body had forgotten the sensation. This electrifying frenzy, this overwhelming urge to laugh, to lose herself in the madness. Exhilaration and agony, forced upon her lithe body by simple light touches. The nails gently tracing and skittering across her smooth soles had been terrible, but this was even worse than her feet. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think straight. All she could do was laugh, uninhibited and maniacally, a pathetic mockery of her usual composed, dignified self.
"JUST OWAHAAHAHAHAAA!!! AAAA-HAYAHAA!!! JUST LISTEN AAAHAHAHAAAAA!!! JUHUST LISTEN TO MEEEEHEHEHEEE!!!"
She despised it. The way her laughter, so raucous and inelegant, became more unhinged with each clumsy cackle that spilled from her lips. The tears in her eyes, making it even more impossible to exude any sort of authority as her young apprentice, nothing more than a child compared to herself, tickled her into submission. She was disgusted with her own weakness, and even more so with the inner turmoil caused by those deep, torturous kisses to her petite tummy. These moist, hot kisses, the torturous vibrations that made her belly quiver and quake, sending ripples through her delicate skin, penetrating so deeply into the tender, ticklish center of her body...
"S-STOOOHOOOP!!! GYAAAHAHAHAHAAA!!! STOHOOP RIIHIGHT NOW!! METHOAAAHAHAHAHAA, METHODE YOU AAAHAHA HAVE TO....!!!"
"Ah-aah..." Methode cooed, playfully admonishing her as she looked up from the quivering softness of her creamy white tummy. The young woman's cheeks had a deep pink hue, she licked her lips as if she had just sampled a buffet of pie.
"We said no more ordering me around, right? It would seem Serie-sama is still a little bit cranky~"
"Stop ahahahah speaking to mehee like a chihild!! I could e-easily..."
"Sooo here comes another one~" Methode happily exclaimed, taking a deep breath. The elf's golden bangs flew around her head as she frantically shook her head.
"No wait, W-WAAAIT!!! JUST GIVE ME A BREEHEEAAAHAHAHAA...!!!"
Another agonizingly ticklish blow, sending shock waves through her trembling stomach. She was laughing so hard it hurt. She could feel every muscle in her abdomen flexing. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and a strange heat permeated her body. It grew stronger, fiercer, setting her face and her twitching ears ablaze. It became impossible to ignore - just like the inexplicable, maddening tingling deep within her...
~End of Part One~
More works can be found here: https://www.deviantart.com/justsomeverycoolguy/gallery
I firmly believe the answer is no, but even if there is, it surely wouldn't apply to this irresistable, absolute piece of eye candy. A near all-powerful creature from the realm of fiction with stunningly attractive feet and an ego larger than life... naturally, she had to be put in her place. Those of you who have watched Frieren will know who I'm talking about - Serie, the shameless serial foot teaser and toe wiggler had it coming. For every second of screentime spent presenting us her bare soles, waving her cute toes at us provocatively and her stubborn insistence to remain completely barefoot for the entirety of season 1, those dainty little feet will suffer.
The second mage starring in this story may be a less obvious choice, although she was an instant favorite of mine with her mysterious strength and slightly unsettling vibe. Now that I've read beyond what the anime covers... no spoilers here, but boy does she fit a story like this. This lady is completely off her rocks to a point where I genuinely believe the events in this story aren't too far fetched. To illustrate what I mean, I've taken the liberty to include some of my favorite panels at the bottom. Also, I have tried to match the classical language of the English translation of the manga, which imo does a fantastic job at capturing the fantasy vibe.
Now, let's celebrate the soon-to-come arrival of Frieren Season 2, and indulge in a feast of heavenly ticklish elf feet!
A Dangerous Woman (Part One)
~~29 years after the death of Himmel the Hero~~
The city of Äußerst, jewel of the Northern Lands. Resplendent on an island in the middle of a crystal clear mountain lake, its sandstone walls rose from the cold waters, an everlasting monument to mankind's ambition. Its proud battlements stood against the pale blue of the surrounding mountains like the spires of a crown, the emerald cupolas of its mighty guard towers blazoned the wealth amassed thanks to blooming trade.
Yet neither this imposing bulwark encircling the city nor the pageantry of the merchant houses inside it, manmade as they were, could ever hope to compete with the magnificent beauty that magic was able to create. Paying tribute to this insurmountable gap, the pearl white tower of the Continental Magic Association reared into the sky, visible from far and wide. It shimmered in the light like a scepter of ivory, eliciting wonder and amazement from those who laid eyes upon it for the first time.
Those who were adept in the art of magic themselves may have experienced a more wondrous sight still. Even at the height of noon, it seemed like the morning sun was just rising above Äußerst, blinding the beholder and warming his skin with its dazzling light. The atmosphere around the august white tower was singing with energy, glimmering and distorting like air in the summer heat. This strange phenomenon, unnoticed by those incapable of sensing mana, had persisted for several months now - ever since a most eminent guest had taken residence in the majestic building.
Tap tap tap.
The Great Mage Serie reposed upon her throne, alone in the grand audience chamber of the Continental Magic Association which she had created half a century ago. The light pouring through the latticed windows set her golden hair aglow, her purpure robe trimmed with ermine flowed down her slim shoulders. Despite barely filling the seat of her throne, the ornate backrest overtowering her by more than a head, the tiny elf exuded an aura of overwhelming power. And yet, somehow, she found herself in a state of unrest.
Tap tap tap.
One of her bare feet nervously tapped against the cushioned seat. Her naked legs crossed, her chin perched on her hand, Serie let her amber eyes drift around the room with a sullen look on her face, wondering how it had come to this.
Everything had seemed to fall in her favor at first. Her decision to personally conduct the final examination had proven most auspicios. She had reaped in a truly excellent harvest this year, a welcome surprise given the disappointing quality of recent candidates. Yet more pleasing, she had banned Frieren from entering any Association faculties for the next one thousand years - time enough to mull some things over for this meek elf, whose childish idealism vexed her to no end. But ever since then, matters had taken a decidedly disagreeable course.
Tap tap tap.
No, maybe it had already started back then. Back when she had received the candidates in her magic flower garden. What had she called her?
...Small and cute...
The elf's dainty toes curled in distaste, her morose expression darkened even further at the unwelcome memory. What a truly disconcerting character.
Methode, the Second Class mage had piqued her interest from the beginning. She could sense no tenacity from her at all, yet this almost timid woman had taken lives without hesitation during the first exam. Hypnosis, healing and offensive magic - she possessed an unusually complex arsenal of techniques, combined with calm and analytical thinking. An ideal First Class in the eyes of Serie, who valued strength above anything else.
Still, that answer had made her question whether the woman was of sound mind. Moreover, she couldn't forget that unpleasant tingle running down her spine, the enamoured gleam in the woman's gaze as she looked her up and down, from her long, pointed ears to her bare feet, as if she were a lost kitten in need of cuddling. In truth, part of the reason why she had immediately passed Methode was because she dreaded being alone with her.
Tap tap tap...
Serie shifted her petite weight, resting her elbow on the other knee while her restless foot drew circles in the air. Her golden eyes glowered at the empty room as she contemplated every mistake that had led her into this dismal situation.
She had known full well that Methode, given her evident prowess as a mage, would simply retake the test in three years if she decided to fail her - a frighteningly short time span. Thus, Serie chose to deal with this bedeviling woman in the most efficient way: By appointing her First Class Mage, taking her as apprentice and deputing her on some mission far, far away from here. In the war torn regions of the Northern Plateau, where the chaos and instability brought about by the marauding remnants of the Demon King's forces were sure to keep her tied up indefinitely.
Tap tap tap.
That plan had undoubtedly backfired. A deep furrow between her brows, the elf twirled a strand of golden hair between her fingers while her delicate foot continued tapping its anxious rythm. A truly regrettable miscalculation on her part - she had failed to anticipate how markedly disturbed many of her mages were at the prospect of accompanying Methode. Noticeably, the outlook seemed to spread terror among young girls in particular, with Second Class Mage Edel dropping to her knees and begging her not to leave her alone with "that dangerous lady", until Serie begrudgingly called off the search.
This blunder left her in a less than desirable position. Deputing a new apprentice on a solo mission would have raised questions, questions of the sort she was not willing to answer. Just the thought of confessing to Lernen or Falsch that that woman's enthralled gaze lingering on her small frame made her nervous and fidgety. That despite being a great mage from a long forgotten era predating both mankind and demonkind, she didn't dare to object when that woman affectionately ran her fingers through her hair at every chance. That she felt a scorching heat creep up her ears right to their pointed tips whenever she had to endure those detestable remarks about how "adorably petite" she was, how delightful the "cute pitter-patter" of her bare feet on the polished marble tiles or how endearing her "little scowl" when she was displeased with something.
Tap tap tap tap tap.
Her small hands clenched into even smaller fists as she shook her head with grim determination. No, that was out of the question. She was Serie, the mage from ancient times, who possessed might beyond human comprehension. She was the one who stood atop the world of magic. The mere thought of disclosing something so shameful caused an involuntary wiggle of her toes.
However, her refusal to let anyone in on her plight also deprived her of any means to escape this woeful situation. Methode had taken up quarters in the designated chambers for first class mages, and Serie could feel her harrowing presence at every waking moment.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap.
That tall, slender woman with her gentle smile. With her bashful demeanor and mellifluous voice that masked the voracious beast underneath. She waylaid her at every turn, despite Serie's best efforts to avoid the towering brunette. Those awfully long arms always caught her, those hands that would lovingly graze her pointed ears or caress her head whenever she wasn't quick enough to dodge them. Not to mention the sweet coos and childish praises that forced her to lower her head, lest anyone witnesses her profuse blushing.
"Tssk!"
A sharp hissing noise could be heard as the elf scowled, waving her hand in irritation as if to shoo away the unwelcome thoughts. Her ears twitched in anger. That impudent wretch! The gall of that young bird, who could have hardly seen more than two dozen winters. An insignificant speck of dust compared to her own life! What a miniscule, laughable amount of mana she possessed, a flickering candlelight compared to the all devouring maelstrom roaring within herself. Even in its suppressed state, the overwhelming pressure of her aura engulfed the entire hall like a raging forest fire. A flick of her wrist, no a mere glance would have sufficed to erase the scoundrel from existence, if she so desired.
Then why? Why was she holed up in her throne room, brooding alone in her misery, out of fear of running into her in the hallways? Why had she not refused this preposterous - this unconscioanable request of hers?
Serie pulled her knees up to under her chin, hugging her slender legs. Riven by anxiety and self doubt, she twiddled with the bracelets around her ankles while her small, bare feet nervously rubbed against each other.
This was a grave crisis. If word of this got out... She could not allow this humiliating procedure to repeat at any point in the future. Unacceptable! The next time the two of them crossed paths, she would show her no mercy. She would teach this insolent apprentice to pay her due deference! Oh, she would...
Tok tok tok.
Knocking on the heavy double doors. The series of taps was gentle, but resounded through the empty chamber. Sense, without a doubt, here to badger her about yet another missed appointment or other trifling matters. Sullenly, Serie raised her head that had been resting on top of her knees.
"Go away, Sense. I have no patience for your sermons today."
She lowered her head again, only for it to jolt back up in disbelief as with a creaking noise, the door opened anyway. Hurriedly, she assumed a more dignified posture, with her legs crossed and one hand supporting her chin in a thoughtful pose. Her amber eyes flared up in anger.
"I thought I had made myself clear! Sense, do not test my..."
"Ehem..."
With a polite cough, a young woman stuck her head between the parted wings of the door. Long, glossy hair with the color of roasted chestnuts framed a soft face, graceful features complementing her tentative smile as she partly leaned into the room.
"Please pardon the intrusion, Serie-sama... I merely thought, since I cannot depart on my mission yet... that um, we could pass some time together..."
Serie's eyes widened in alarm. As if petrified, the tiny elf sat on the throne that was decidedly too large for her, watching as Methode entered the room without even awaiting her permission. The woman had a youthful appearance, a tall, svelte figure with the right proportions to fill out her top worn under a black corset. She moved with elegance, her long legs clad in wine red leggings, a white cape billowing around her as she approached her, the Great Mage Serie, without a care in the world. The heels of her tall boots clicked on the marble floor with every step she took.
A pleasant appearance through and through. But Serie, possessing the unrivalled instinct of one who had been alive for many thousands of years, saw through this charming mask. She saw the greed flicker in those eyes, barely concealed by her gingerly smile. This harpy, harassing her even in her last refuge.
"First Class Mage Methode" she replied curtly, regaining her poise after a split second of silent awe at this brazen behaviour. "Pass time together? Whatever gave you that idea? Moreover, I don't recall inviting you inside."
Methode came to a halt, slightly taken aback by her master's sharp tone. Easily overtowering the scowling elf as she stood before the throne, she awkwardly fiddled her thumbs while looking off to the side.
"Ah, well, you see..." she mumbled softly. "It's what we... Uh, regarding our arrangement... Since Serie-sama has so graciously allowed me..."
The elf's lithe toes clenched in unease. So that was what she was after. How utterly dreadful. She could feel warmth on her face, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance both at her own nervousness and her apprentice's stammering. The sooner she could get this over with, the better.
"I... um, may I caress your head again?"
Yes. Such were the depths of her despair. In her inexorable quest to make her life as miserable as possible, her relentless pursuit of bodily contact - be it smothering her with loving hugs, ruffling her hair or gently pinching her ears, all of which she loathed - this detestable woman had ultimately worn her down. In a desperate bid to contain her apprentice's unreciprocated acts of tenderness, she had found herself begrudgingly agreeing to a compromise. Methode, to her delight and Serie's discontent, had exclusive sanction to caress her head - for ten minutes each day.
"Since, I mean... I believe it has only been about five minutes today..."
A shadow clouded the elf's face, her eyes gleaming under her steadily lowering brows. As usual, the reasoning behind this woman's deranged behaviour eluded her. How could she stand there so innocently and give her this hopeful smile after uttering something so outrageous?
"Methode. You are harder to avoid than the pestilence, you know that?" she grumbled, her fingers drumming on the armrest of her throne. "You won't even grant me one hour of repose?"
Not afflicted in the slightest by this harsh reception, Methode's coy smile remained unchanged.
"Oh dear! I am sorry to have bothered you, Serie-sama... it's just, um..." She cast down her eyes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Your head fits my palm so nicely... And your hair feels soothing to the touch. It would make me really happy if I... could pet it again..."
The heat spreading across her face was getting impossible to ignore. Cursing her pale complexion that made it so easy to spot the blush on her cheeks, Serie's glare hardened.
"You may not" she declined, all the more terse to compensate for her growing embarrassment.
"And we agreed to call it 'caressing', not 'petting'!"
If she hadn't been profoundly irritated up to this point, the adoring giggle that followed certainly would have done the job.
"Hehe~! Oh pardon, it slipped my mind..."
The woman took another step forward, and despite her best efforts to appear menacing, Serie couldn't help but instinctively tuck her head.
"But, if I may be so bold... won't you please bless me with just a few minutes of um, caressing? Serie-sama is so adorable when she..."
"Enough!" Serie snarled as she further retreated from the approaching danger, scooting back on the satin cushioned seat of her throne. "I will not hear anymore of this. No more caressing today, and no more of your demented ravings!"
"But..." Methode replied meekly, her face falling in disappointment. "But Serie-sama... it hasn't even been ten minutes today... and you promised..."
"So? What of it?" the elf responded surly, casting a warning glance at the mage from lidded eyes. Contrary to her commanding tone, she had assumed a rather defensive position, huddled up in the furthest corner of her seat.
"I recant my promise. Henceforth, you may only caress my head for five minutes each day. Now begone, or I shall revoke your priviliges fully."
"Umm... but..."
She could not believe it. This exasperating woman was still standing there, nervously casting down her eyes while fiddling with her hands.
"But I feel like... Serie-sama has found enjoyment in it as well... so perhaps uh, it would brighten your mood..."
Serie felt the blazing heat on her face spread like a wildfire. It crept up to the very tips of her long, slender ears, which gave an involuntary twitch as the great mage lost countenance for a moment.
"Wha... haah?" she stammered, even forgetting to glare at Methode. "Whatever gave you that impression? Are you sane, woman?"
"Eeh... um, you see..." the brunette tittered, squirming like a young lass awaiting her first kiss. "It's actually what you just did... when Serie-sama gets excited, her... her ears start twitching..."
She looked up, meeting her master's appalled gaze with an enthralled grin.
"It's just awfully cute~"
Serie's golden eyes were gleaming now. Clenching her teeth, the petite elf struggled to contain herself as she felt her temper slip.
"It would seem I have been far too lenient with you, First Class Mage Methode" she growled, her brows furrowing dangerously.
"I've had enough of your impudence. You may no longer caress my head, or any other part of me for that matter. Now leave, I am telling you for the last time."
Finally, her words seemed to have the desired effect. Methode, who had drawn closer almost within an arm's length of her throne, was thunderstruck.
"What? No, please..." the mage weakly protested. Not without a hint of satisfaction, Serie observed as the svelte brunette sunk to her knees, appearing crestfallen.
"Serie-sama, this is too harsh! I beg of you, please reconsider..."
"Spare me" Serie ungraciously interrupted the distraught woman. While glad to have finally mustered the nerve to rebuke her bothersome apprentice, the brief dispute had left her rather exhausted. Nevertheless, she felt more at ease now. Reassuming her sophisticated pose, the elf lounged in her throne.
"You have tested my patience enough for today. Now then, I believe you know what to do."
Closing her eyes as if to signify that the conversation was over, she arrogantly lifted her bare foot, her long toes pointing towards the door.
"..."
Her eyelids fluttered open in surprise, only to return to their usual languid, half closed position after a moment. The smug satisfaction on her face gave way to a look of resignation.
"Methode. What are you doing?"
Even on her knees, the young mage was only barely shorter than her.
"Oh...! I thought... oh, I do ask your pardon" the brunette meekly apologized, looking up at her with a bashful smile. "You had me confused... I thought you meant..."
Past the point of anger, Serie simply stared in bewilderment at this human who held her small, dainty foot in her hands. One had clasped the elf's ankle, which was so slender that her fingers easily closed around it, the other one cupped her smooth, gently curved heel in her palm. A surreal moment passed, with neither speaking a word.
"Say" Serie mused, her amber eyes resting heavy on her apprentice. "Are you actually an idiot?"
"You are being harsh, Serie-sama..." Methode shrunk under her master's condescending gaze. "You were raising your foot and I, uhh... assumed you might be... disposed to a massage or..."
"Tch! Why would I... oh, whatever."
She gave up. There was nothing she stood to gain from trying to untangle this woman's bizarre reasoning. With an exhausted sigh, the barefooted mage rubbed her temples.
"You are dismissed. Let go of my foot now."
Incredibly enough, she did not feel her foot being released. If anything, it seemed Methode's grip was tightening ever so slightly.
"But... I believe this would greatly help reduce your stress" the kneeling mage softly murmured. A faint blush adorned her cheeks.
"And, if I may be so candid, Serie-sama... has truly adorable little feet~"
All of a sudden, Serie felt a familiar tingle run down her spine. That greedy flicker, that sweet adoration in the woman's gaze. It slowly wandered up her delicate foot, taking in every detail of her flawless, creamy white sole until it arrived at her elegant toes, appreciating their slight inward curl. Everything about it gave her an ill foreboding.
"Methode!" she repeated in the most assertive tone she could muster, despite her eyes widening in concern. "Relinquish my foot at once!"
But her words did not reach Methode who seemed to be in her own world, a smile playing around her lips as she looked her master's small, naked foot up and down. She giggled as the elf's adorable toes clenched, cocking her head in an almost flirtatious manner.
"Ooh, hehe~! I will admit, I have always been rather fond of these lovely feet of yours... they are most charming..."
A feverish blush consumed Serie's face, her ears giving such a sharp twitch that her small golden ear cuffs clinked.
"What in the world...? You have the presumption..." Serie spat, baffled by this girl's recklessness. With her petite, regrettably bare foot in the young woman's grasp, exposed to her covetous gaze, the all-powerful mage felt a completely foreign sense of vulnerability.
"They aren't for you to leer at! I am warning you, if you don't let gnn-hnnnn!"
"Hmm...?" Methode looked up, surprised to see her master's dignified expression twisted into a wide grin. The small elf had gritted her teeth, indignantly staring at her from a single eye while the other was tightly squeezed shut.
"Is something amusing you, Serie-sama?"
"B-believe me, I am anything but amused" Serie growled, quickly regaining her poise. "And if you touch me so casually once mohorepfffffht!!"
Curious, the younger mage repeated the same subtle motion. Spellbound by this beautifully shaped, dainty foot in her grasp - its adorable size, the tenderness of her high arch, the pale complexion of her immaculate sole - she hadn't been able to resist briefly tracing the contour of her invitingly smooth heel with her thumb. Now, on its second journey over the elf's soft skin, her finger elicited a barely suppressed snort.
"Oh, my~ What an unusual reaction, Serie-sama!"
"Khh...! Methode, you damned fool!" Serie's golden eyes flared up in wrath, but there was something else hidden in her glare. Something that didn't escape her enthralled apprentice, whose shy smile widened into a beam of delight as she saw the prideful mage struggling to keep down the trembling corners of her mouth.
"Do you know how easy it would be for me... no, don't you daaahahare!! Naaa-hahahaha!!"
Her foot scrunched up, delicate wrinkles forming across the length of her sole as Methode scribbled several fingers in the elf's pale, creamy white arch. Playfully swishing across the gently sloped valley, her fingertips painted a picture of ticklish hilarity right in the center of Serie's vulnerable sole. It ended as suddenly as it had begun, leaving the elf with a look of utter shock painted on her face, while the brunette was swooning with delight.
"Eheee~ Oh dear, don't tell me... Is Serie-sama actually... ticklish~?"
No matter how infernal the fire in Serie's gaze, it could not compensate for the rapid twitching of her ears and the scared, yet undeniably tempting wiggle her slender toes gave. The elf mage nervously tugged at her foot, dismayed to find her apprentice tightening her grip around her ankle.
"If you do that again... By the Goddess, I swear I will... STOP!!" she snapped, her commanding tone trailing off into an undignified yelp he saw Methode's long, wiggling fingers converge on her tender sole once more. "Don't lay another finger on me, or I will make you regret it!"
"But you haven't answered my question..." the flaxen woman smirked, halting her attack with a twinkle of mischief in her blue eyes. "Serie-sama... These darling little feet are ticklish, aren't they? How very endearing~"
"Ti... ticklish, me?" Serie sputtered, disgusted by the very notion. "You are delusional, Methode."
"Oh, is that so?" the mage giggled, her master's insults leaving her as untroubled as her empty threats. "Then I suppose you won't mind if I do this...?"
With quick, precise movements, her nimble fingers fluttered up and down the elf's scrunched up, nervous foot. It was so small that she almost didn't need to move her hand to cover the entire length with the stroke of a finger, her nails ever so lightly grazing the impossibly soft skin. With a violent spasm, the elf's little toes frantically clenched down before fanning out as if they were blown away by the ticklish shock, drawing her sole perfectly taut.
"NAAA-HAAAA-HAAAA!!" Serie wailed, her voice overflowing with mirth - sounds that no living being wandering this earth had ever heard before.
"M-Methodenahaa-haaa-haaaa!! Cehee!...cease this at ohohooonce!! Ahaaa hahahaa!!!"
"Oh myyy~" The tall, svelte woman remained on her knees, her master's petite foot firmly in her grasp, observing its frantic writhing and shaking with a look of pure enchantment. "This is mesmerizing... I could watch your foot squirm around all day, heehee~"
Without respite, her fingers explored the shorter mage's delicate sole, exquisitely smooth and free of imperfections. The supple skin was yielding to her touch like a pillow, its tender warmth almost addictive as her fingertips glided along the gracefully curved arch. It was white like fresh snow on a winter morning, as if not a speck of dust had stained it during the elf's many thousand years of life. Just the faintest blush could be made out on her heel and the cushiony ball of her foot, as well as her lovely little toepads.
"Nnaahahaaa, ohahahaa!! You demented wohoeeaa-haaa-haaa!! Do yohou have a deeeheath wihihihiiish?! Aaaahaha-!!"
Oh, those toes alone could have kept her entertained for hours. They were slender and elegant, fairly long compared to her diminutive foot, but undeniably adorable. Their soft, bubbly pads were adorned by a charming rosy hue, unlike the pale undersides. Methode found herself staring at those toes as they seemed to wave at her, clamping together tightly before splaying out, squirming in ticklish terror, performing a hypnotizing dance of helpless hysteria.
"BAAAHAAHAAA!! Daahaamn it you ahahaa!! Insolent AHAAA, apprehentihahahaaa!! OHOOOouu aaaahahaha!! Stohop this madness rightnahaa-HAHAHA!!!"
"...Oh, I do apologize..." Methode smiled, unwaveringly polite even as her nails were brushing across her master's naked, writhing foot, each ever-so-gentle touch eleciting another burst of wild, unrestrained laughter.
"I got distracted... but I must say..." Her index finger drew little circles and figure eights in the elf's smooth, quivering arch, causing her toes to twitch and spasm in panic.
"I have never seen Serie-sama so happy... I believe we should keep this up for a while~"
"Ggghhrrrraha, aaaha-HAHAHA!!" Serie growled, desperately trying to bottle up the forced mirth bubbling up from the depth of her stomach, before erupting in a fit of boisterous laughter. "NOOO AHAHAHAA!!! Methode aaahahahaa, youhuu dahamn wretch!!"
Clutching the silvered armrests of her throne, digging the heel of her free foot into the satin cushion and desperatly trying to pull her leg free, the Great Mage Serie was cackling in open mouthed hilarity. Disbelief and confusion showed in her wide open eyes, completely bereft of their usual condescending boredom.
"You brahahaat!! Naahaha-HAHAHAAA!! I demahahand that you stoohooop!!"
How could this be happening? Was she not the Living Grimoire? Was she not the mage from the Mythical Age, as old as the very rock this city was built upon? Then how, how could she being overwhelmed so easily? How could mere nails teasing her soles be so utterly maddening? What was this strange feeling of mirth, this unbearable hilarity gushing forth whenever she opened her mouth? Serie felt like she was being toyed with, her body and mind subjugated just by the touch of a few fingertips. This feeling of helplessness was one she hadn't known, and she detested it.
"AAHAHAHAAAA!! Hahaah, oho why youuu...!! Grrhhnnnaa-AHAaha HAAAHAHAAA!!! M-Methodeahaha, I COMMAAHAND you to stohaahaap!!"
Paying her angry commands no heed, the younger mage held onto her ankle with the strength of a praying mantis. Her ravenous claws mercilessly exploited the softness of her bare sole, chasing down her jumping, flailing foot wherever it tried to escape. Methode didn't grant her a second of respite, her gentle swipes and swishes endlessly forcing those clumsy, rowdy cackles out of her that she hated so much. Serie's laughter was unrefined and chaotic, nothing the melodical giggles one would have expected of a girl her size. Laughter that would have been unbecoming even of a dairymaid, let alone herself. And she was the culprit behind it, this degenerate wretch - wearing the most innocent of smiles, as if she wasn't committing a heinous crime right now.
"I... I'm afraid I cannot stop... Serie-sama is just, mmmh~ irresistable when she is all worked up like this~"
"WHAHAT?! Aaarrrhh, you daahamna-HAAHAA!! Do you hahave willow AHAHA cotton in yohohour heheaad, you morohonaHAHAAAH!!!"
Throughout her long life, Serie had acquired an abundance of convenient spells that would shield her feet against rough surfaces, dirt or even the cold, keeping them spotlessly clean, cozy and warm. Thanks to these magical comforts, the elf had no reason to wear shoes except when the occasional mood struck her. She enjoyed feeling the polished marble floors under her feet, or leisurely bathing them in the clear pond of her flower garden, watching the silver droplets of water trickle down her pale skin. She had never wasted a thought on how exposed her feet were in their permanent naked state - and how utterly defenseless against such underhanded methods of torture. A fatal oversight that left the proud elf both aghast and humiliated.
"Mahaa-haa-haaa!! Ohoho ahhaaha you dementeehed wohoman HAHAHAHAA!! Leheave my f-foohoot aloahahaah, NOHOT THERE!!"
Methode on the other hand was enraptured. Effortlessly holding her master's petite foot still, a sigh of pure delight slipped past her lips. The young woman dreamily tilted her head, her adoring gaze following the frantic writhing and jumping as her nails waved up and down the royally soft, velvety sole. Her fingers were slender and feminine, yet just two of them were enough to cover almost the entire width of Serie's arch with their teasing strokes. Her touch was playful and gentle, yet just barely grazing the sublime skin with her nails was rewarded with spasmic twitching. In a desperate effort to protect itself, Serie's perfectly smooth sole scrunched up as her wild, guffawing laughter resounded through the hall.
"Naaa-haHAHAHAAA!!! I will mahake you snort paha-ahaHAHAYY for thihis ahahaaah!! Let gohohoo GYAAHAHAAAH!!!"
"Aah~!... Serie-sama truly has the most adorable laugh~" Methode swooned, unable to resist teasing the elf whose tiny fists were now pounding against the armrests, raspy howls of mirth spilling from her mouth. "It's quite different from your usual demeanor, hehee... so rambunctious~"
The fingers of her free hand performed a capricious swirl over the elf's supple arch, before trailing up her instep and lightly scratching away at the plump, squishy cushion of her inner ball. Her adoring smile widened as another gale of raucous cackles swept through the room. Serie was losing herself in the ticklish onslaught, wordlessly staring daggers at her while her face was contorted in helpless hilarity.
"Hehee~! Honestly, Serie-sama, the way you laugh is so cute... it much reminds me of the little boys in my hometown~"
The atmosphere in the room underwent a sudden change. Methode felt the hairs on her neck stand up as the air came alive with buzzing static. The windows began rattling in their frames. Startled by the explosive surge of mana, more violent than she had ever felt before, the young woman's grip loosened for a split second - enough time for the elf to yank away her trapped foot, immediately bringing it back to the safety of her cushioned seat. Protectively clutching her bare foot in both hands, as if she wasn't ever going to let it go, the small mage rubbed her tingling sole with her thumbs like a cat licking its wounds. An adorable image, Methode thought, if it wasn't for the clear bloodthirst in her gaze.
"Haah... what haah... what did you just say, Methode?"
The elf spat her words between clenched teeth, every syllable sharp as a knife. She was breathing heavily, her eyes gleaming menacingly under disheveled golden hair. Even her lovely blush and the cute wiggle of her toes as she cradled her small, dainty foot could not belie the elf's wrath. Lowering her head, Methode took a few steps back.
"Ahh... it seems I have overstepped. I apol-"
"What did you say?" Serie cut her off, her voice a low growl. Although the midsummer sun was at its zenith, the shadows appeared to grow longer and darker.
"Uh, uuhm... a-are you self-conscious about your laugh, Serie-sama...? But it is so adorable..."
The elf raised a hand, and with a sharp crackling noise a green flame burst forth, sizzling and popping as it danced on her open palm.
"Serie-sama..." Methode said, her pale face showing worry. "You are not going to kill me, are you?"
Serie's amber eyes were piercing hers. The fire painted half her face in flickering shadows as a cruel grin bared her teeth.
"Nay, I'd hate to kill one of my students. I am magnanimous after all..."
"Oh... thank-"
"... thus, I shall merely take one arm" the elf finished her verdict. "That should allow you to resume your studies, while serving as a reminder."
Methode swallowed. Then she extended her arm as well, her slender fingers closing around a staff that materialized by her side.
"I am truly sorry, Serie-sama. But I cannot allow that."
"Ohooh~?" Her master raised an eyebrow half mocking, half in curiosity. "So you have some mettle after all. I don't dislike it!" The elf leaned forward, her excited grin widening as her apprentice pointed her staff at her.
"Do not disappoint me, Methode!"
Several days had passed since the conclusion of the First Class mage exam. It had been an unusual examination in more than one regard. First, because the Great Mage Serie had taken it upon herself to appraise the remaining candidates. Second, because it had yielded graduates at all. This meant that for the first time in many years, Serie would have to redeem the pledge made to all candidates - to grant each of them any one spell they desired.
It was a duty she quite enjoyed performing, even though the elf's languid expression didn't give it away as she sprawled on her throne, lazily dangling her bare feet that couldn't even hope to reach the ground. Granting the new First Class mages their wishes offered fascinating insights into their minds. Magic that allowed to deceive, to manipulate, to kill - magic that could heal, create wondrous and beautiful things. The variety of spells she had gifted was as strange and miscellaneous as the humans who asked for them. In a way, even though these short-lived creatures and their oddities still mystified her, Serie thought it allowed her to connect with her students on some level.
There was Land, the cautious strategist who had never set foot into Äußerst and relied purely on his cunning to win. Übel, the vagabond who had killed Burg, a girl whose perception of magic was as crooked as her soul. The imperial mage Denken had surprised her with his tenacity during the exam, and had done so once more when stating his wish just earlier today. The child Fern had perhaps left an even stronger impression, but she was clearly a lost cause - eccentric and whimsical with her head in the clouds, just like her master, that insolent chick.
And then, there was this woman. Serie could not figure her out, her usually sharp intuition failed her when it came to this tall, flaxen haired girl. She could not shake off a vague sense of unease when talking to her. Even so, her wish was certainly an interesting one.
"A spell that won't allow other mages to cast magic...?" she mused, her chin resting on her hand as she looked the svelte blonde up and down. "Hmmm... Such a spell does exist. But learning it would be a waste of time."
"Oh... m-may I ask why, Serie-sama...?" the young mage inquired, clearly dejected.
"Because it is useless" Serie bluntly replied. "It is ancient sorcery, much older than the modern systems you humans have devised of late. An obscure technique with no practical application. It has no merit in battle."
She noticed the woman's eyes wandering lower as she splayed her dainty toes in boredom, hooking onto each bubbly digit with the curled toes of her other foot and stretching them one by one.
"Magic, no matter which form it takes, is merely the materialization of what you can visualize. Can you picture an inferior mage bereft of their powers? Most likely, but then you will have far more efficient ways of beating them at your disposal."
She crossed her bare legs, her upper foot waving left to right as she spoke. For some reason, the young woman blushed slightly.
"Now suppose you are fighting a superior mage. One you cannot hope to defeat with conventional means. Only then would this spell prove its worth. However: When faced with death, can you picture such a mighty foe without their ingrained magic techniques? Can you truly conceive it - a mage who is far stronger than you are, yet helpless and at your mercy? By virtue of my experience, it is impossible. And therefore... Hey. Are you listening?"
"O-oh! Why yes, I am" Methode stuttered, giving her master a shy smile.
"So you do understand the issue? Your wish is ill-advised. This magic won't be of any use to you."
The woman pressed her lips together, looking off to the side with a small giggle instead of meeting her gaze. Her blush seemed to have intensified further with those last words.
"I thank you for your concern, Serie-sama. But please believe me... there won't be a problem."
"Frydwahrer."
Serie knew what had happened, even before the blistering flames licking at her fingers sputtered and died. Empty handed, the small elf was frozen to her large throne, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief.
"Oh, it worked" Methode remarked happily, lowering her wand. Her face showed the mild surprise of someone who had just won a consolation price in a raffle. "Well... I did practice it on Edel before, but still..."
Serie blinked in confusion. Her ermined shoulders and even her long, pointy ears drooped as the Living Grimoire slumped down in her seat. Unable to hear a word her apprentice said, she wordlessly stared at her empty palm. She snapped her fingers once, twice and a third time, hoping to reignite the fire. Nothing happened.
"It really is a fascinating magic" the young mage went on, her staff disappearing as she strolled towards her master. "Although I do not quite understand the principles behind it... One would assume that such a powerful spell consumes a great deal of mana, yet it is surprisingly easy to handle..."
The golden haired elf saw the tall, slender figure approach her, but remained seated as her head was swimming with confusion. How in the world had she done it...? This was impossible... an anomaly. There wasn't a mage alive in the world that should have been able to cast this spell on her, Serie. It went beyond mana control or mere power - something was fundamentally amiss here.
She lifted her chin, looking up to this human girl who loomed over her, with that adoring smile that now, in her helpless state, was more terrifying than ever before.
"Methode... what..." For the first time in many thousand years, she found her voice unsteady.
"What do you see in me?"
"Eeeh...? Umm... I believe I already told you, Serie-sama" Methode replied, bashfully covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. Her eyes twinkled with delight.
"I think you're just... small and cute~"
Tiny clinking sounds chimed like little bells when Serie's ears perked up, causing her golden ear cuffs to clack against each other once more. The world's strongest mage turned away her face, unable to resist the heat burning on her cheeks.
"Tssk! I see you are beyond help" she hissed between gritted teeth, making sure that her long golden braids covered the charming red of her face. The situation was humiliating enough already.
"Nevertheless, I admit that you have exceeded my expectations. It would seem that I have made a wise decision in taking you as my apprentice... despite your many shortcomings. N-now if you would release the spell..."
As soon as the words had left her mouth, unusually shaky despite her best effort to keep some veneer of confidence, she knew that it wasn't going to be so easy. There was something in the girl's eyes, something that went beyond mere glee or savoring her victory - a certain curiosity, innocent and yet deeply unsettling.
"But... Serie-sama... did you not just try to take my arm...?"
"Ah?" Serie blinked, her commanding exterior crumbling a bit further. Over the sheer insanity of what had transpired just now, she had completely forgotten her boastful declaration just a minute ago. "Ahhh... let bygones be bygones, right? You can keep it."
"As always, Serie-sama is most generous" Methode replied, her bright smile dispelling any suspicion of sarcasm. "But... about my ten minutes of caressing your head..."
The elf turned around, craning her neck to glare up at the young woman.
"Does your audacity know no bounds!?" she grumbled, her small face clouded by anger once again. "After all you have done... You think I will ever allow youhuu-pfffffthhahahaah!!"
In the blink of an eye, Serie was curled up into a ball, protectively hugging herself as she scurried into the furthest corner of her seat. Her droopy amber eyes were wide open in shock as she yelled at her apprentice, albeit with small giggles interrupting her burst of anger.
"Are you mad, womahan?!! Don't you dahahare t... t-tickle me again, or by the Goddess I will..."
"Oooh~?" Methode chuckled, mischievously wiggling her long fingers that had just been digging into the elf's soft, sensitive tummy.
"To be honest... I was hoping Serie-sama would say that..."
"M-m-methode!!" She stuttered, scooting back on the satin cushion until she was pressed up against the backrest of her throne. There was a distinct tremor of panic in her voice. "I... I warn you... I won't forgive you a second t-time!"
Her only answer was the enamoured smile on the woman's face as her slender hands drew closer and closer. Serie's mouth twitched, an involuntary grin spreading across her face before the fingers had even touched her.
"You reckless fool! If you value your life at all... No, no don't!! Methode NOOOHOHOHOOO!!!"
Nothing could stop those hands from invading the fabric of her loose white top and eagerly clawing away at her tender, unspeakably sensitive sides. Not her empty threats, not her instinctive attempts to crawl back further, away from those wiggling and pinching fingers. Not her desperate efforts to grab Methode's wrists, to keep them at an arm's length from her smooth, porcelain white tummy, even if it was only an elf's arm. And not, to her deeply felt shame, the subtle shaking of her head and the almost pleading look she gave the girl who was many thousand years younger than her, only to be ignored anyway.
"GYAAHAHAHAHAAA!!! MEEPHMMMHAHAHA METHOOHODE NAAA-HAAA-HAAAA!!! CEEEHEHEASE THIS INSTAHAHANTAHAHAAA!!"
Those delicate, womanly hands were inside her clothing, making full use of how vulnerable the draped blouse left her slender waist and her soft, pliable sides. Those hands that were so gentle, yet inflicted so much ticklish suffering with every touch to her trembling tummy. She couldn't see them, she could only scream and squeal with laughter as she watched them crawl around beneath her top like giant spiders, forcing more undignified, ridiculous hysteria out of her with every squeeze, wiggle and poke.
"GAAAHAHAHAA NOOHOAHAHAHAA!!! I WILLAAHAHAHA KIHILL YOHOUHUHUU!! NOOOHOOO AHAHA GET OUT GET OHOHOUUT!!"
The fingers were everywhere. They were scurrying up and down her shivering sides, fluttering over her quivering tummy, prodding and pinching her supple, smooth skin. No matter how much she twisted and squirmed, they followed her movements easily - scribbling up and down her ribs, ticklishly vibrating between them, making her shriek as they ventured up further to tease right below her small breasts, bare and unprotected, then howl with laughter as they dropped to squeeze her adorable hips.
"WAAHAHAHAAAAAAH!!! AHA-OHOHOO YOU HAHAHAVE TO STOP THIHIIIS!! I COMMAHAAA, COMMAHAND IHIHIT....!!!!"
"Hehe, what was that Serie-sama...?" Methode beamed, far too enraptured by her master's mindless hysterical reactions to pay her orders any heed. "It is quite hard to understand you when you're laughing so much~"
"AAAAAAH!!! You dahaamn brahahaHAHAHAAT!!! I SHALL PUAHAHAAHAHAHAH AHAHA NAAHAT THEEEERE!!!"
"Aaaw~" The flaxen maiden cooed, a sound so full of loving adoration that Serie felt her ears tingle. "You're so adorable when you're angry... especially with that cute boyish laughter of yours~"
Her fingers expertly stroked and caressed her master's soft, squeezable tummy, pinching the little rolls and flabs of delicate flesh and rolling them between her fingertips. She couldn't see her hands, but she didn't need to: The desperate spasming of the elf's shaking muscles, the exquisite smoothness and warmth of her skin guided her fingers and led them towards unrecovered treasures of ticklish delicacy. Serie's eyes bulged at her words, the elf's face showing a priceless mixture of hilarity and fuming wrath.
"S-STOHOHOOP AAAHAHAHA MOHOCKING MEEEHEHEEEE!!!" she blurted out between bursts of tumultuous laughter, entirely proving Methode's point. The almighty mage was squirming like a worm, kicking her feet in helpless hysteria as she held on to her student's wrists, desperately trying to pull away her hands. Methode looked at her face, flushed a deep cherry pink from anger, embarrassment and ticklish fever, and saw tears sparkling in the elf's amber eyes. Her master had never looked more beautiful.
"Why, Serie-sama..." she said, just a hint of impish satisfaction in her mellow voice as she watched the object of her adoration writhe under her fingers. Serie was completely overwhelmed, gasping for breath, glaring daggers at her from teary eyes while her face was contorted into a happy grin that seemed absurdly out of character.
"I wouldn't dare to mock you... This is but my heartfelt admiration..."
"IIAAHAHAHAA HAVE NOHOO NEEHEEHEEEED FOR AHAHAH!! YOURAHAAA-HAAA-HAAA, ADMIRATIOHON OWAHAAHAA!!!"
More indignant remarks followed - mostly related to the ghastly torments that awaited her from what she could tell - but Methode's nimble fingers cascaded down the elf's soft, exquisite tummy again and began teasingly circling her small belly button. Childish cackles and yelps spilled from Serie's lips, rendering any and all threats and promises of gruesome punishments obsolete.
"KYAAHAHA NOOHOHOOO!!! NOHOO MEHEETHODEHEAHAHA DO NOHOHOT!! AHAHAHAAAH!!! T-TOUCH MEHEE THEHEHEHRE!!"
"Not there, hmm~?" Methode probed sweetly, accentuating her question with a few light scribbles dangerously close to the sensitive little orifice that made the elf's laughter spiral into panicked shrieks. "Then I suppose... here would be fine, yes~?"
Her neatly trimmed and polished nails gave a small parting wiggle just inside Serie's delicate navel, then ventured even lower to tease the smooth, untouched skin of her lower abdomen. They skittered across the pale white canvas, ever so lighty teasing the supple tenderness between the elf's narrow hips, dancing back and forth just above the hem of her shorts.
"AHAAGAHAHAHAHAA, YOU STUHUPIIHIHD WOHOMAAAHAHAN!! DONT AHAHA TOUCH MEHEEE SO C-CAHASUALLEEHEEEY OHOHMAHAAHAA!!!"
The light, tantalizing scribbles turned into hearty pokes and prods. The flawless white skin yielded to her touch like butter, allowing the younger mage's fingertips to sink unbearably deep into her master's shamefully ticklish tummy, setting all the deeply rooted nerves ablaze. Methode could feel Serie's tiny fingers clawing into her wrists as she tried to pull them away with all her might.
"NAAHAHAAAAAH!!! YOU WIIIHIHILL OOHOMMMPFFAAHAHAHA!!! YOUAHA WILL SUFFER FOR THIHIS METHODEHEHE!!"
The elf doubled over, wheezing and snorting and hitting all sorts of notes that one would never expect to come out of such a small body. Methode meanwhile was spellbound, marvelling at the sight of her ticklish toy with a look of pure bliss on her face. She was so delicate, so sensitive, so outrageously adorable - and the murderous wrath in her eyes made her even more endearing. Oh, that precious last ditch effort to keep a little bit of dignity, even though the deep blush on her face and her beautiful, wide grin spoke louder than all those harsh words.
"Oh, Serie-sama... please don't give me such a scary look..." The young woman smiled, gently lifting her master's garment with one hand while playfully digging her nails into her squishy lower belly. The draped linen parted, exposing the elf's smooth, ivory colored tummy - a perfect playground of pliable, squeezable softness, with her small navel playfully peeking out from beneath the white fabric.
"Hmmm, your cute belly button is looking at me as well... I might just decide to play with it a little~"
Serie was seething at this insolence. The bursts of tumultuous laughter were interspersed with gasps for air as the tiny mage prepared to launch another tirade, but a few quick, well aimed squeezes at her tender sides quickly reduced her to a helpless, blubbering mess.
"AAAH-MPHHAHAAHAHAA!!! MEHETHOHO- OOOHOUAHAHA OHAHAHAAAA!!! IMMAHAHA K-KIHIHIHILLYOOUHUHU AHAHAAA..."
"Ooh, so angry~" Methode cooed sweetly, her heart beating faster as she saw Serie giving up on trying to hold her wrists and instead hammering against the throne's armrests with her small fists. "Serie-sama is always so ill-tempered... and sooo easy to tease~"
Not wanting to push her to the brink just yet, the straw-blonde girl spared her master's enticing belly button for now and went back to tracing the silky line of awfully sensitive skin right above her shorts. With delight, she watched the elf's bare feet flailing and kicking, trying to dig her heels into the cushion to help herself stand up, but slipping on the smooth satin. After several unsuccessful attempts, accompanied by some rather unbefitting profanities amongst frantic laughter, the small mage managed to stand.
"Aaahahaha... y-you... wretched thing..."
Just barely taller than the human apprentice who knelt before her, and barely out of the reach of her arms, the elf stood huffing and puffing, covering her stomach with her hands as if just the thought of those nimble fingers grasping her sides again was too much to bear. Her teary eyes gleamed from underneath her dishevelled golden hair. One of the braided bangs framing her face had become undone, her regal red robe hung somewhat askew from her heaving shoulders.
"T-this ahaha time..." she stammered and giggled through strained breathing, her voice shaky as she furiously glared at her apprentice. "This time, I shall... grant you no mercy...!"
"Umm..." Methode looked up at her master, meeting her scorching wrath with the most innocuous smile. "Be that as it may... after you have punished me, will I be allowed to pet your head again?"
Not for the first time today, the Living Grimoire was at a loss for words. As she opened and closed her mouth in stunned silence, the rage escaped her body like the fumes of a dead campfire.
"What?" she uttered in perplexion. "Were you not listening...?"
"I see. So you reject me again" the girl sighed, but the excited glint in her eyes did not match her words. Serie fliched when she saw those long fingers give a mischievous wiggle.
"Then I suppose... my dearest Serie-sama might need some convincing, right...?"
"Tchh...!! Damned brat!" the elf spat, narrowly evading a well-aimed pinch at her sides by pivoting and slapping the greedy hand away. "Convince me?! As if I would yield to such childish..."
Fully occupied with fending off the clawing, wriggling and poking fingers creeping towards her tender midriff, as well as delivering her monologue with due grandeur, the elf did not realize that she was standing on the seam of her royal cape - that is, until she took a quick sidestep and suddenly felt her foot entangled in the red velvet. With a small yelp of surprise, the mage toppled off her throne, aimed face first towards the floor - before two saving hands gently caught her.
"Please watch your step, Serie-sama..." Methode smiled. The woman stood up, looking down at the petite elf cradled in her arms. She felt so light, almost weightless... and her face was even more beautiful up close.
"Hmph! Keep your advice for yourself!" Serie huffed, appalled to find herself in the dreaded embrace of her tantalizer. She turned her head away indignantly, refusing to meet the young woman's gaze.
"It was your fault in the first place. Now put me down."
A long, quiet moment passed, and Serie felt the familiar heat run rampant on her face as she was still nestled in the girl's arms. Her head snapped back with an intense glare.
"Methode! P-put me down this instant!"
Methode remained quiet, in silent awe at the lovely sight of her master's flustered expression. The elf was blushing again. Her ears gave small twitches, like the excited tail of a puppy. Even in her anger, she was so adorable... no, it was precisely because of her anger that Methode could not resist her. That proud, defiant glare, the small tears of laughter sparkling in the corners of her golden eyes...
"Arrrhh!! Methode!!" A tiny fist came flying and landed on her nose, the pain rousing the young woman from her charmed trance.
"Ouch! That hurt, Serie-sama..."
The dainty mage was twisting in her arms like a feral cat, growling and hissing as she tried to escape.
"Put me down! Let go of me, you scraggy broad! I am the Living Grimoire, not a bread basket..."
Her furious commands became a gasp as Serie once again felt the touch of Methode's fingers gliding under the fabric of her blouse, followed by panicked giggles as her body responded almost immediately to the anticipated sensation.
"Wha--?! Noo aha, nonohoho don't you DARE!!"
Trying and failing to snatch her disciple's unruly hand, the all powerful mage could only watch as her loose top was pulled up in one swift tug, leaving her tastefully pale, delicate midriff bare up to right below her modest breasts.
"There we go~" Methode's sweet voice accompanied the scandalous act, giggling in delight as she was greeted by the sight of this soft, invitingly exposed tummy. With the obstructive garment out of the way, she went back to embracing the small bundle in her arms, pressing her master's arms to her sides. The petite elf was fuming.
"AAARH!! Pull down my blouse, you degenerate! Put me down this instant! PUT ME DOWN!!"
"Serie-sama really is grumpy today~" the girl tittered, now feeling her own cheeks flare up as she stared down at the pale, creamy canvas of untouched skin. Impossibly smooth and tender, the only unevenness being her adorable belly button, Serie's abdomen was quivering from the elf's nervous breaths. Enthralled, Methode bit her lower lip.
"Soo... how about I cheer you up a little~?"
Serie momentarily paused her valiant struggling as the young woman gave her a feverish smile. Looking into her student's blushing face, showing pure genuine adoration, it once again crossed her mind how puzzling these humans were. Where did this strange excitement come from? Why did this girl seem as if just holding her in her arms was the highest of pleasures? She could feel the woman's ample chest heaving, two plump, squishy pillows pressing against her as she was cradled. She could feel her warmth. The twinkle in her eyes as they gazed at her so longingly, and so close to her own...
"Wait. W-what do you mean by...?"
Only when Methode looked down at her with her cheeks blown up from taking a deep breath, sugar sweet mischief in her eyes, and began to lower her head - only then, Serie understood the calamity that was about to befall her.
"NOOO!!! NO, DON'T EVEN THIHIINK ABOUT EEHEETAAAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! BAHHAAA-HAA-HAAAA!!!"
The very moment the woman's lips touched down upon her tender stomach, Serie lost all semblance of control. Her body was twisting and contorting, trying to curl up into a tiny ball to protect her bare, vulnerable midriff - to no avail. She howled and shook with uncontrollable, guffawing laughter before it had even begun, just from her student's nose and chin nuzzling into her delicate tummy. And when it did come, all the greatest mage could do was scream.
"AAAWWHAAHAHA, GYAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! N-NAHA, NOOHOHO NOT THAAAHATAHAAAHAHAHA!!!"
A second one followed before she could even catch her breath, before the pulsing and tingling left by the previous attack had begun to dissipate. The elf wailed in ticklish agony, throwing her head back while every muscle in her body spasmed. Those lips pressing into her supple skin, tantalizingly vibrating against her flesh, punishing her innocent tummy with such ruthlessness.
"M-M-METHODE I CAAHAA-AHAHAHA, YOHOWAAAHAHEEHEEE AHAHAAAHAAA!!!
A third one, and another one. Helplessly twisting in her student's tight embrace like a fish caught in a net, her fingers twitching and balling into small fists as she desperately fought to at least free her arms, to guard her poor, tormented belly, the elf began to wish she had simply granted Methode her stupid head pats. She snorted between her cackles, feeling tears of delirious laughter run down her face.
"Oooh is someone a little sensitive here~?" a gentle, but teasing voice chimed through the haze of laughter, as the younger mage resurfaced from another dive in her smooth, pliable tummy.
"Can't this grumpy little elf handle a few raspberries...?"
Her golden eyes opened, flickering with rage, blinking away the tears as Serie attempted to object to such flagrant mockery, but her indignant protests went under in a gale of laughter as the girl's grinning mouth invaded her bare stomach again.
"UUHUAAAHAHAHAHAHAA!! I AM NOOHOHOT AAHAHAHAHA G-GRUHUMPEEHEEEHEE!!! QUIT IHIIT AHA OHOOHOUOHU I OHORDEAHAR YOUHUU...!!!"
"No more giving orders~" the blonde smiled, gazing down at her with so much tender affection that it made her head spin. "No more shouting and pouting... just laugh, Serie-sama~"
"M-M-METHODE NOOOHOHOO!!! NOHOT AGAIN HYAAHAHAHAHAHAA NOT AGAAAHAHAIN!!!"
It didn't make any sense. There was no glee her voice, no malice in those blue eyes. Everything she did and said seemed so kind and playful - then why, by the Goddess, was she torturing her so much? Why didn't this madwoman ever stop, when she was so clearly desperate for a break?
"NOO, NOOOHOOAAHAHAHAHAAAH!!! I HAAAHAHAHAAH I CAAHAN'T!! NO MOHOHOAAHAHARE!!"
The tickling was unbearable. Among the many thoughts whirling in the chaos that was her mind, Serie wondered when she had been tickled for the last time. Had it been four thousand, or five thousand years...? Her body had forgotten the sensation. This electrifying frenzy, this overwhelming urge to laugh, to lose herself in the madness. Exhilaration and agony, forced upon her lithe body by simple light touches. The nails gently tracing and skittering across her smooth soles had been terrible, but this was even worse than her feet. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think straight. All she could do was laugh, uninhibited and maniacally, a pathetic mockery of her usual composed, dignified self.
"JUST OWAHAAHAHAHAAA!!! AAAA-HAYAHAA!!! JUST LISTEN AAAHAHAHAAAAA!!! JUHUST LISTEN TO MEEEEHEHEHEEE!!!"
She despised it. The way her laughter, so raucous and inelegant, became more unhinged with each clumsy cackle that spilled from her lips. The tears in her eyes, making it even more impossible to exude any sort of authority as her young apprentice, nothing more than a child compared to herself, tickled her into submission. She was disgusted with her own weakness, and even more so with the inner turmoil caused by those deep, torturous kisses to her petite tummy. These moist, hot kisses, the torturous vibrations that made her belly quiver and quake, sending ripples through her delicate skin, penetrating so deeply into the tender, ticklish center of her body...
"S-STOOOHOOOP!!! GYAAAHAHAHAHAAA!!! STOHOOP RIIHIGHT NOW!! METHOAAAHAHAHAHAA, METHODE YOU AAAHAHA HAVE TO....!!!"
"Ah-aah..." Methode cooed, playfully admonishing her as she looked up from the quivering softness of her creamy white tummy. The young woman's cheeks had a deep pink hue, she licked her lips as if she had just sampled a buffet of pie.
"We said no more ordering me around, right? It would seem Serie-sama is still a little bit cranky~"
"Stop ahahahah speaking to mehee like a chihild!! I could e-easily..."
"Sooo here comes another one~" Methode happily exclaimed, taking a deep breath. The elf's golden bangs flew around her head as she frantically shook her head.
"No wait, W-WAAAIT!!! JUST GIVE ME A BREEHEEAAAHAHAHAA...!!!"
Another agonizingly ticklish blow, sending shock waves through her trembling stomach. She was laughing so hard it hurt. She could feel every muscle in her abdomen flexing. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and a strange heat permeated her body. It grew stronger, fiercer, setting her face and her twitching ears ablaze. It became impossible to ignore - just like the inexplicable, maddening tingling deep within her...
~End of Part One~
More works can be found here: https://www.deviantart.com/justsomeverycoolguy/gallery
Attachments
Last edited:
