isuckwithnames
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The legendary, lewd and disproportionally long finale of my little two-part story. It takes place in the world of Frieren, a bitter-sweet and serene show, although with great comedic moments. All around great series. If you care about the characters I suggest reading the first part, if not just go ahead and enjoy the tickling madness.
An Elf's Pride - Part 2
"F-FINE!! OAAHAHA-AHAA-AHAAA!!! YOU MAY OHOWOAAAHHAHAHAA!!! YOU MAHAHAY CARESS IHIIT!! BUT STOOOHOHOHOOP!!!"
Methode halted her administrations, pursed lips less than an inch away from her smooth, alabaster white midriff. Serie could feel her hot breath on her skin, now slick with saliva. Huffing, panting, giggling like an idiot, she stared at her apprentice with pleading eyes. The young woman's straw-blonde hair tickled her tummy as she turned her head a little, casting her a mischievous sideways glance.
"You promise you won't get mad when I pet you? Or maybe even... ruffle your hair?"
Still breathing heavily, the elf immediately felt the regret of having succumbed to her weakness. Out of all the ways she had ever thought possible to be defeated, this stood out as something she couldn't have imagined in her most feverish dreams. She couldn't recall ever feeling so humiliated.
"I... I promise" she muttered through gritted teeth, averting her eyes. "You may touch it how... h-however you please..."
"For how long?"
"Huh?"
There was a wicked gleam in the girl's eyes. Her chin gently grazed Serie's bare stomach, forcing her master to inhale sharply as her mouth immediately twisted into a moronic grin.
"For how long will you allow me to caress you? Our previous arrangement specified ten minutes, I believe..."
"P-ppfffhht...!! Then lehet it be t-ten mihinutes!" Serie stuttered, an adorable snort escaping her as she felt Methode's chin and lips ever so lightly nuzzle against her skin.
"Eeeh...? That feels a bit short, though..." Methode sighed, sounding disappointed. Her nose was tracing the slight curve of the elf's midriff, trailing down her slender tummy until it got dangerously close to her belly button.
"I meheehaha...! I meant twenty!" The small mage hurriedly exclaimed, her voice shaking as she frantically tried to suck in her tummy. But even this didn't save her, as her apprentice gave her a warning glance, slowly inhaling as her lips pressed into her tender, enticingly ticklish midsection.
"THIRTY!!" she wailed, her amber eyes widening in abject horror. "Thihiirty minutes! M-my ears too! But ple... ju-juhust stop!!"
"Oh goodness~" Methode said sweetly. Finally she lifted her head, leaving Serie's still bare stomach tingling from the lingering sensation of her warm, ticklish breath caressing her skin.
"You must be really weak against tickling, Serie-sama... given how much I had to plead for you to allow me just ten minutes last time. So adorable~"
She looked down at the huffing, panting bundle in her arms with almost possessive love, while Serie turned and twisted her head all sorts of ways so she couldn't see her scarlet red face. Was this girl slow, or did she just love stating the obvious? Either way, this was an absolute disaster. She could not allow anyone to find out about this obscene and utterly humiliating incident. She would have to silence Methode, one way or another... But first, she had to escape her clutches.
"I... I merely f-figured I was being too harsh before" the ancient mage murmured through tight lips, grinding out each word while intently staring at some spot on the ceiling. Fortunately, Methode seemed pleased with her response.
"Is that so?" the apprentice beamed, sounding genuinely happy. "You always seemed so reluctant, but... I am really glad we have reached an understanding!"
Screaming internally, Serie valiantly tried to force a smile on her face to match her student's enthusiasm. She still couldn't even move her arms, and even if she wasn't caught in the much stronger woman's grasp, she would be defenseless until the spell got lifted.
"Y-yes, so am I. So if you would kindly undo the spell... M-Methode...? Methode, what do you think you are doing?"
Her poorly feigned smile twisted into an annoyed scowl as the world began to spin around her. Carrying the elf just as effortlessly as a little lamb, Methode took a few steps before turning around, casually sitting down on her master's throne. Serie, nestled on her lap, was less than amused by this point.
"For heaven's... will you let me go already!" the dainty mage half groaned, half hissed as she twisted and turned like a cat trying to escape the wash tub. "And get out of my seat! It is not for some clumsy human to rest on!"
"Oh?" Methode giggled, an amused twinkle in her gaze as she leaned back, gently but firmly keeping the elf immobilized. "On the contrary, Serie-sama. I'd say this throne was originally made for a human, considering its size... although, hehe... it does look very cute when you sit on it..."
"Gnnnh...!! Whatever!" Serie grumbled, exasperated. Listening to more of these lecherous rambling was not something she could endure in her current state. Moreover, she figured the humiliation involved with having a tiny elf-sized throne custom made, only to be on eye level with everyone's belt buckles, were not something this simpleton could understand, or should know of really.
"I don't care, just release me already."
Methode did not understand herself. Serie-sama was kindhearted - despite her efforts to pretend otherwise, and the sullen ruggedness she displayed only served to make her even more adorable. Nevertheless, the First Class mage wasn't foolish enough to assume she could act with impunity. As soon as her master regained the slightest control of her mana, her life would hang by the exceedingly thin thread that was Serie's clemency. And yet, with just as much certainty, the young woman knew that she was not going to stop here.
How could she, when everything the elf did was just an invitation to tease her even more? When she would chortle and cackle so adorably, just from a few light touches? When her skin, smooth and free of imperfections, was inviting her eager fingertips like a soft bed after a hard day's work? Methode could not explain it, the wonderful magic of her master's wild, tumultuous laughter, hearing the overflowing joy in her voice that she tried so hard to contain, watching her languid expression turn into blushing, teary eyed hilarity...
"Hey, are you listening? I swear, if you don't let go of me I will..."
Her petulant protests, her grumbling that Methode knew could so easily be turned into the most delightful giggles, just by a few well placed fingers. Her light, petite body twisting and squirming against her own as the elf fought to put herself into an upright position. Her head pushing up against her bosom, her small, firm butt moving around on her lap...
"...insanity! I can not be seen like th-aahaa, naaa-haahaah!! Oh noho, not agaahahahaain!!"
As if on their own, her fingers had begun the steep climb up her master's slender sides, slipping under the fine linen of her blouse and crawling over her smooth, exposed skin. They gently pinched and squeezed her tender flanks, poked and prodded the sensitive pockets of her hips, ticklishly vibrated between each of her ribs, all while steadily climbing higher.
"Waahaait ohhooohohoho!! I caaa-hahahaa, I AAHAHAHAAH c-can't tahahake anymooOHOHORE!!"
She could feel Serie's delicate frame shaking with laughter, the smooth and creamy texture of her skin, the pleasant warmth under her fingertips. How unfortunate, it briefly crossed her mind, that a body so ticklish was just so enjoyable to touch.
"AAAHAHAHAA!!! STOP TOHOUCHING MEEHEHEEE!! STOHOOP YOU LUNATIHIC AUUUHAAHAAAAA!!! CUHURSE YOUHUHUUU!!!"
Methode's fingers scribbled up and down her ribs, freely exploiting Serie's defenseless midriff despite the elf's writhing and desperate attempts to catch her hands and keep them off of her. Things got even worse, however, when they eventually found the oh so sensitive spot to either side of the elf's pert breasts, rapidly wiggling around in the treasure trove of ticklish tenderness.
"M-Methohoode!! Not theeehEHEEERE AAAAAAAH!!! OOWAAHAHAHAAA I GIVE UHUP AAHAHA, I GIVE UHUHUUP!!"
"What was that~?" the flaxen haired girl chirped, not stopping or even slowing down for even a second as the poor little mage exploded with gut-wrenching laughter. "I am quite sure I must have misheard... did the mighty Serie-sama just surrender? Just because of a little tickling...?"
"Y-YOUHUU WRETCH!! IDONTFFAAAHAHAHAHAH!!!" her unfortunate victim howled, rocking back and forth in ticklish hysterics while her dainty hands uselessly grabbed her much larger wrists.
"YES AAHAHAHAHAHAA, YES AYAAHAHA I SURRENDEAHAHAA!! JUST MAKE IT STOOHOHOHOOP!!!"
Her fingers were rivaling the wings of a hummingbird, coaxing forth adorable guffaws and yips as their rapid fire of pokes and squeezes penetrated deep into the sensitive flesh. The torturous onslaught also caused a delightful jiggling of Serie's modest yet lovely bust - something that was brought to Methode's attention by the wonderful feeling her master's supple, squishy breasts softly flapping against her fingers. A skewed grin spread over the young apprentice's face.
"Reaaally~" she cooed, lowering her head so she was closer to the elf's long, pointed ears. "Now that is quite funny... I could have sworn you were adamant about not being ticklish before~"
"M-METHOHOHOOODEE!!!" the elf wailed, a noticeable red hue lighting up those large, all too adorable ears. "I'M SOHORRYYAHAAHAA!! I... I AAHAHAHAAM!! I CAHAN'T AHAHAHAHAA!!! NO MOHORE, JUST P-PFFHAAAHAHAHA NO MORE TICKLIHING!!"
Her laughter had taken on a desperate tone, her frantic protests were more pleading than demanding. Her helpless thrashing, the wild, raucous gales that spilled from her lips, surprisingly deep given her small stature, yet irresistably cute - it all betrayed the Living Grimoire's most charming weakness.
"But... wouldn't that mean you lied before?" Methode questioned, her nimble digits now alternating between light, methodical strokes and playfully pinching the sides of Serie's clearly ticklish breasts. "That's no good... you should strive to be a shining example for aspiring mages..."
The elf sputtered something incomprehensible, her response washed away by the flood of bellowing laughter. Even without seeing her face, Methode knew that the ancient mage was crying in ticklish anguish. She was twisting and convulsing, bucking so violently that it made her wonder how this delicate body could have so much strength left. Thankfully her own chest provided an ample cushion, so the hysterical elf could throw around her head without hurting herself. But watching her overawing master, this paragon of magical might, dance under her fingers, lose herself in mindless ticklish hilarity, feeling her little body press up against hers...
"You know..." Methode whispered breathily, her lips just inches away from the elf's hot, blushing ears. "Serie-sama... I might have done this much sooner had I known..."
Without any warning, her fingers left the welcoming softness of Serie's jiggling breasts and crawled up a couple of inches - a brief journey, but one with devastating effect as her nails dipped into her master's defenseless, silky smooth armpits.
"...what a ticklish little elf you are~"
"OUHUHH, AAAAAH!!! WAAAHAHAAHAHAA NOOOHOHOHO!!! NOHOHOOOT THEHEHEERE!!!"
Her laughter reached an explosive crescendo before deteriorating into desperate, almost mewling noises. The young woman smiled as she allowed her marauding fingers to run wild in those pliant, tender hollows, enraptured by the cacophony of ticklish mayhem she was causing with just the tiniest scritches and scratches across her master's supple skin.
"OOOUUHOHONOOO G-GEEHEHET OHOUUT HAHAHAAA!!!" Serie screamed, shaking her head so forcefully that a braid of golden hair hit Methode square in the face. "OHOOHOUUH YOUHAHAVE TO STOHOP!!! ANYTHIHING AAAHAAHAUUHUUH!! ANYTHING BUT THIHIS OOHAHAHAHAAAH!!!"
Overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of hellish tickling and driven by instinct, her arms snapped to her sides like a toy soldier, clamping down on Methode's fingers. A fatal mistake, as she was quickly taught since they were now trapped beneath her soft underarms, gleefully resuming their torturous wiggling and squirming in the prison of warm, ticklish tenderness.
"That won't do you any good..." Methode sweetly cooed, feeling every muscle in the elf's petite body spasm in response to the slightest movement of her fingers. "Scheming to capture me with such foul tricks...?"
"IYAAAHAHAHA I CAHAAN'T AHAHAHA HEEELP IHIT!!" the golden haired mage wailed, professing her innocence through riotous laughter. Her crazed cackling became even more frantic as Methode began to twist her fingers, wriggling them in the divine softness of her armpits with malicious intent.
"I SWEEHEHEAHAR AHAHAHAAAH!!! ME-HEEAHAHA METHODEHEHAHAHA, MHHM-PFHHAHAHAHAAA....!!!"
"Open up, Serie-sama... open up your little armpits~" the straw-blonde beauty sang, completely enamored with the way her proud master was guffawing and wheezing, losing her mind just from the smallest movements of her fingertips. "Or I shall help you~"
"I caahahn-NYYAAAAHAHAHAAAH!!! I CAAHAHAN'T, I REALLY CAN'T!! GRRRAAAHAHA, GAHAHAHAHAA DOHON'T MOVE YOUR FIIIHINGERS I BE-AHHAHAHAAAH!!!"
If there was one saving grace, it was that Serie at least no longer had to bear the humiliation of being face to face with her student. The cool countenance she had perfected over ten thousand years - blissfully unaware that Sense and the others simply attributed her drowsy expression to a deeply rooted laziness - was twisted into something she would rather die than let anyone else see. Especially this lecherous lunatic, who giggled and cooed into her ears while she had her fingers buried so deep in her tender, ticklish underarms.
"KHAHAHAHAHAAAH!! IF YOU JUHUHUUUST OOO-HOHOHOO!!! STOP TEEEHEEAHAAHAHA, TICKLING M-MEEHEHEHEEE I CAHA- WOHOOAAHAHAHAAAH!!!"
She was spouting gibberish at this point, but it was all she could do in her desperate bid to convince this girl to stop bullying her silky hollows. The tickling took away her breath, forced every stern rebuke and genuine plea to leave her mouth as childish, chaotic laughter. She felt hot tears running down her face, her lungs burning as she doubled up in hysterical mirth. Her hands were uselessly flailing, arms firmly pressed to her sides with the irresistible urge to protect her tormented pits, to buy them just a few seconds of rest from the merciless abuse.
"Oh I see. It would appear Serie-sama is still being a bit hard-headed..." The words sweetly trickled into her foggy mind like honey, both affectionate and terrifying. "Then I guess you leave me no choice~"
"W-WWAAAIT!!!" the elf cried, panic driving her frenzied cackling to even greater heights. "WHATEVER YOUHOOO-OHOHOO...!! DOOOHOHOHON'T AAAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"Schellsengen."
Not for naught, Serie was known among mages as the Living Grimoire. Whether it was born by the archaic rituals of the Southern tribes or by exegesis of the Goddess' scriptures - there was nary a spell she hadn't seen in her ten thousand years of life. Which was why, as soon as she heard the incantation, the elf's maniacal laughter was cut by a discernable gasp.
"Whaaahaah?! H-hold on a secohond...!!"
Like cobras rising to the tune of a pan flute, the armrests of her luxurious throne seemed to liquify, coiling and undulating with unsettling movements that were all too akin to the venomous beasts they resembled. Rearing their faceless heads, they seemed to stare at the elf whose golden eyes were darting from left to right, following their tranquil movements as they closed in on her.
"Methode, this... this has gone too far already..." she stuttered, her voice shaky as the silver snakes wrapped themselves around her gracile wrists. "You d-don't have to... No really, I promise I will keep my arms up..."
"Hmmm, I have my doubts about that" Methode gently denied her. "You are squirming an awful lot, and I've barely even touched these pretty underarms~"
Barely touched? Serie could have sworn she still felt every single one of the woman's fingertips, her smooth, tingling hollows abuzz with the fresh memory of their scratching, poking and prodding. She groaned, trembling as she fought against the living shackles which slowly, almost teasingly raised her hands above her head. She could feel cool air stroking the pale, sleek skin, left maddeningly exposed by her sleeveless top. The petite mage was practically shivering with apprehension, the thought of Methode's nails plunging into her armpits filling her with the nervous anxiety of someone who just discovered how pathetically ticklish they were.
"S-stop it" she implored, in a tone that was much closer to a whimper than she would have liked. "I've given up! There's no point in this anymore, stop!"
The silver snakes did the opposite, pulling her arms even higher until her delicate pits were stretched completely taut. The chains slithered across Methode's shoulders towards the nape of her neck, pulling Serie's hands along until they touched before meticulously tying them together. The proud mage was left with her arms raised, hugging the taller girl's neck in an embrace that looked deceivingly playful - leaving her truly and utterly helpless.
"Methode, no, listen to me!"
"Oh, I'll listen~" Methode purred like a cat, clearly reveling in her master's fearful pleading. "I'll listen very closely... to each and every cute noise that comes out of you..."
"NOOOO!! Wait, we cahan ahAAH!!" The elf jumped in surprise, a childish giggle bursting through her tight-lipped tension as two hands slowly began to walk up her sides like huge spiders, ever so lightly poking her with every step. "We can hyyaAAH!! Tahalk ahaah about thihihiiiss!!"
"Yes, we'll talk lots and lots..." the flaxen haired beauty muttered under her breath. The elf was trembling all over in nerve wrecking, unbearable anticipation, yipping and squealing as those feathery fingertips were climbing higher and higher. "For example, we can talk about how much you love to be tickled~"
"I... I do NOT!! Ahaaahahaha!! NOHOT THERE!!" Serie laughed, unable to contain herself as her student's tantalizing fingers marched past her sensitive breasts, not without getting in a few scribbles along the magically soft, sensitive mounds. "I hahate being t-tickled! IIYAAHAHAA, I cahan't TAKE IHIIT!!"
The fingers stopped, hovering above her dreadfully exposed underarms like an executioner's sword. Serie felt every muscle in her body tense up, every single nerve beneath her skin aching, waiting to be set ablaze by a fury of ravaging nails.
"Hmmm... so you still won't admit to it, Serie-sama..."
The elf's golden eyes were wide and terrified, her head turning from side to side as if staring at the waiting talons would somehow stop them. Shaking like a leaf in a storm, panicked giggles spilled over her lips, no matter how hard she tried to stop them.
"...my giggly little elf~"
The greatest of all mages gasped as she heard these loving words teasingly whispered into her long ears. Her head sunk into her chest, hiding her face from the younger woman. She did not understand herself anymore. Why were her cheeks lighting up like a chandelier, just from this broad's silly teasing?
"D-don't you ever... call me thahat agahaAAAH HYYAAA-HAHAHAAAA!!! WAAAHAHAHAHAAANNOOOOOO!!!"
This solitary moment where she failed to brace herself, the split second in which she had been lured to let her guard down. The devilish woman was playing her like a fiddle, and Serie could only curse herself before the all encompassing sensations swept over her, filling every cell in her body with the animalistic, desperate need to escape.
"AAHMMWAHAHAHAAAH!!! MEHAA-HAHAHA M-MEHEHETHOOHOHOODEEE I FUUAAAHAHAHAARRGH!!! GYAAHAHAHA NAHAHAHATTHEHEHEHEERE!!!"
She was babbling, stammering complete nonsense. Sputtering inanities that barely resembled any spoken language, the petite elf erupted in deafening laughter as Methode's sharp nails began to ravage the lush, sensitive skin. They crawled up and down her smoothly curved hollows, freely exploring the snow white valleys of softness beneath the elf's bound arms. They spun, twirled and frolicked across the silk like surface, every stroke eliciting explosive laughter, performing a ticklish dance of victory and forcing her to sing for them.
"BAAHAHAHAHAA EEHEHEMAMAHA M-MAAHAHAKEITSTOOHOPAAHHA!!! NOTTHAAHAHAAA MY AHAHARMPFHHEEEAHA KYAAAHAAH!!!"
She, Serie, had lost. Slowly worn down by every manicured nail traversing the sea of cute wrinkles in her ivory soles, every squeeze of her alabaster stomach and sides. Mortified by the ridiculous howls and shrieks these instruments of sweet torture could force out of her with shocking ease. Her body refused to obey her, as did her magic did in this greatest hour of need. The exuberant, overflowing power she possessed lay dormant inside her, stubbornly refusing ro save her from this agony no matter how much she kept begging for it.
"I REHEEYAAAHAHA, I NEEHEHEHEEHEEDAAHAHA snort I NEHHEEDYOUTOAAAHAHAA!! STOOHOHOHOP GUUAHAHAHAAAH!!! AAAHAHAHAH COMEOHOHOON I REALLY NYYAAAHAHAHAAH!!!"
Her royal vermeil robe lay crumpled on the ground, lost somewhere during their earlier scuffle. Without the plushy ermine bolstering her shoulders, the elf's slender neck and collarbones could be seen, fair and pale like the moonlight. Snorting, wailing and kicking her bare feet, the Great Mage was wearing only her thin white garments - and what she had to assume was the most pathetic, idiotic laughing expression one could imagine.
"HEEEEHEHEEELP MEAHAHAHAAAAA!!! ANY-AAAAYAHAHAHAAH, ANYOHONE!! OOOHOHOAHAHAHAAA, PLEHEASE AHAHA-HAAAA SAVE MEEHEE!!!"
She had lost, and she knew it. She knew with every fiber of her being that she could not take any more, the soul crushing realization of just how hopelessly, debilitatingly ticklish her small armpits were having shattered the last bit of her resistance. Embarrassingly smooth and supple as they were, those valleys of untouched, pristine skin could barely endure a wet sponge during bathtime, let alone this.
"No wayyy~" Methode chirped, giggling excitedly as her nails sped up. Skittering and flitting across her master's luxurious underarms, stretched taut and helpless so that every inch was at its most vulnerable, they explored her ticklish weakness with humiliating attention to detail. Precisely mapping all the sweet spots that got her to squeal and snort amidst laughter, unfailingly finding all the nooks and crannies that made her shake her head in senseless hilarity.
"Did the great and fearsome Serie just say... please?"
Serie, caught in a laughing fit, simply nodded while tears rolled down her cheeks. Clumsy, desperate cackles spilled from her lips, her cocky smirk replaced by a crazed rictus that betrayed pure panic, yet looked undeniably adorable.
"This is becoming so much fun! Are all elves this ticklish, or is it only you Serie-sama?"
Methode's fingers sunk into the soft, welcoming skin, lighting her nerves on fire with every devious swish and stroke.
"Hehee~! To be begging for help just from a few tickles, how cute you are~"
The tingling sense of embarrassment made her feel dizzy, filled her stomach with butterflies, an indescribable feeling of free fall as she came to be fully, unconditionally at this dangerous woman's mercy. Golden hair went flying as the elf thrashed violently, gasping and wheezing as her student's treacherous fingers plundered her silky hollows.
"AAHEEEHAHAHAHAH, I'M SEEEHEHEERIOHOUUS I NEEHEEEDAHAHAHAHAAH, OOHOHONO NOT THEHEERE!!!"
It was so endlessly frustrating. All the strength in her small body wasn't enough to pull down her arms, leaving her sleek pits exposed and vulnerable for her all too enchanted disciple to play with them however she pleased. Her nails were crawling up and down the smoothly curved slopes of creamy white tenderness, eagerly pinching the supple skin that was trembling and shaking under the torment. They swished and twirled over the delicate surface, alternating between light scratching and digging into the most forbidden depths of her terrifyingly sensitive armpits. She couldn't get used to it, she simply couldn't bear it, not in another ten thousand years.
"If you want to beg someone, why don't you beg me~?"
Hot and heavy, the buxom woman's velvety voice graced her ears. Her fingers began spinning in rapid little circles, massaging the elf's tiny armpits in a way that was ticklish beyond belief. The gasping laughter that filled the room with its warm joy took on a desperate note as the almighty Serie bucked and twisted, helplessly jumping up and down on the woman's lap.
"HAHAHAHA I BEG OF YOOHOOUUU!! M-MAAHAA, MAAHAHAAII ARMPIHIIITS, I CAAHAHAHAHAAANT..."
Methode giggled, her fingertips ceaselessly resuming their torturous dance through her master's pathetic wailing.
"Yes? What about your armpits?", she lovingly whispered. "Are they ticklish? Does this great mage have adorable little armpits that are just made for tickling?~"
"YEEEHEESS!!" Serie caved in immediately. "PLEEEHEEAASE AHAHAHAHAAAAH I NEEHEED AAAAH, AHA BRE-BREEEAAKHYAAHAHAH!!!"
What wicked magic made those hands to be so soft and feminine, yet so brutally merciless altogether? Their touch was warm and soothing like a midsummer breeze, caressing her sensitive body with endless affection that she had never felt before. And yet, they squeezed every last drop of delirious laughter out of her with machine-like effiency.
"PLEEHEASE AHAHAAHAOHOOH!!! JUST LEEHET MEEAAHAHAAH GYAAHAHAHAAAH!!! METHODE, AHAAHAH MEEEHEHERCY!!"
She threw her head back, cushioned by the First Class mage's voluptuous bosom, and howled at the ceiling. Sharp nails were painting unpredictable patterns in her creamy hollows, now ever so slightly starting to sweat from her frantic escape attempts, which allowed them to drift over the smooth surface even more easily. Her body was heating up, her bound hands opening and clenching in panic behind Methode's head.
"NAAAHAHAHAHTTHEHEHERE I EEEEK HAHAHA P-PLEHEHEHEEASE!!! I'LL GO INSAHAHANE HYAHAHAAAH!! NOOOOOHAHAHAT snort THERE-AAH WOAAHAHAAH!!! OHOOPLEHEEEHEASEAHAAHAA AHA-ARE YOU LISTENIHIING!!?"
Her legs were twitching involuntarily; her dainty feet, elegantly adorned with golden anklets were kicking the air. Her disorganized laughter and begging only serving to provide a tune for the scandalous scene.
Why? Why wasn't she stopping already? The sharp nails were absolutely eviscerating her supple pits, showing no sign of slowing down despite her surrender. If anything, they were picking up the pace - changing rhythm every few seconds, skittering up and down one armpit while wiggling deep into the other, keeping her drowning in frenzied, chaotic laughter as she was always caught off guard anew.
"MEHEEETHOHODE can't you HEHEEAHAR ME!!? I'M BEGGING!!! HYAAHAHAHAHAA OAHAHOHOOHOOO!!! I said it, I SAID IHIIIT AHYAHAAAA-HAHAAH!!!"
How irresistably adorable she was. How endlessly pleasant her silky skin, the warmth of her body jumping and twisting on her lap. How exhilarating her laughter, wild and unrestrained, gushing forth in a staccato of chaotic cackles that were so beautifully unsuitable for her petite figure. Just as tumultous and frantic as the assault her nails were carrying out on these little elfish pits, matching the intensity of her strokes and swishes, pokes and digs, rapid squeezes and deep scratches to the inhumanly soft and sensitive grooves.
"NAAAAH, AHAHAWAHAHAOOOH NO MOOOHOHOOORE!!! PFffaahAHAUUAHAHAAHA snort NOHOEEHEHEHEEE!!! Hmm-aaAHAAH, AHAHAHAHAAA...!!"
In a blissful trance, Methode's eyes followed the movements of her own fingers as they swished and danced along the girl's exposed underarms. This elysium of her fingers spinning, brushing and circling in those smooth hollows quenched a thirst she hadn't known before - possibly because they belonged to someone so distant and aloof as her master, who rarely showed so much as a smile.
Her gentle touch in those flawless, silken armpits - almost imperceptible movements of her nails stirring in the buttery smoothness - were all it took to make this proud, notoriously ill-tempered elf squeal like a kitten. The legendary Serie, so otherworldly powerful that she was rumored to be a goddess in some parts, was begging under tears to leave her poor, ticklish pits alone... it was too good to be true.
"PLEEEHEEHEEHEASE, METHOHOODEEE!!! PLEEHEHEHEHEHEAASE, AHAHAHAH RELEEEHEASE MEEHEHEE!!!"
But would a goddess allow herself to be seen in such an endearingly pathetic state? And furthermore... Methode's enraptured smile widened into a grin as one hand dropped, infiltrating the elf's thin blouse to squeeze her tender sides, while the other gleefully resumed its light, quick, incessant scratching. Would a goddess be defeated so easily? Not just with tickling, this childish torture that effortlessly brought her to hysterics, tossing herself around in the majestic throne that had become her prison.
No, it was their earlier duel that had the First Class mage in thought. Her right hand took the quaint route back up Serie's delicate upper body, probing the elf's trembling side, warm, smooth and stretched taut by the bondage. Her slender fingers pressed in between her master's ribs and wiggled around, and the eager student was delighted to hear the riotous cackles fade into silent laughter for a couple of sweet seconds.
"Now, Serie... I mean, Serie-sama" Methode corrected herself, while her tantalizing nails swirled under the legendary Serie's soft, merrily jiggling breasts. Amidst the frantic struggles, she could feel a discernible jolt as the elf's bare legs kicked upwards like those of a toy soldier.
"I am genuinely happy that you have come around to enjoy being petted so much..."
Somewhere in the storm of divine sensations, of buttery soft skin kissing her yearning fingertips, of deranged laughter and helpless screams for mercy serenading her mind, it occured to her that the elf's body was radiating enough heat to bring a family through the Northern winters. Her ears in particular were ammost sizzling hot, an adorable feature that Methode enjoyed all the more as they fluttered in excitement, flicking against her chin as she bowed down to her ticklish toy.
"But, I feel like something is amiss here. While I would never profess to be a grand duelist or anything... your behaviour during our little match..." While her left hand kept tirelessly exploring the depths of Serie's otherwordly sensitive armpit, the right concluded its adventurous journey under her tunic with feathery, precise strokes along the elf's nipples. To her joy, she found the tender buds rapidly stiffening in response, eagerly poking up against her wiggling fingers as if begging for more.
"...shall we say it peaked my interest? Oh my, is there anywhere you aren't ticklish, hehee~ Tickle tickle, these cute nipples aren't going anywhere~"
The warmth of Serie's breasts, resulting humiliated shrieks, and the fanfare of helpless screaming laughter as her right hand finally reunited with its sister in tormenting the smooth seductive hollows under Serie's arms - it was all too intoxicating. The woman's long, feminine fingers suddenly became a flurry as they sunk into these perfect, heavenly soft armpits, every single touch sending the defeated mage into a spasmic frenzy. Littering the flawless white skin with pink streaks like cherry petals, she clawed away at the tender grooves with reckless passion. She licked her lips before her teeth gently caught one of the elf's ears, putting an end to its excited twitching.
"HHYYYYAAAAHAHAHA-MEHEEAWAAHAH!! OWAAAHAHAHAA YOU, I'LL DO ANYEEEEAHAHAHA...!! HEEHEEYAHAAHEE, HELP MEEEEEEEEAHAAA...!!!"
"Now I could ask why mhmmm... you chose as cumbersome a method... as summoning fire..." the woman continued her interrogation, slightly muffled by the long, pointy and apparently, very ticklish ear in her mouth. She spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing in between words to flick her tongue over the edges, playfully biting and nibbling the rare elfish delicacy.
"Or I could ask why hnmm... even though your mana... should be completely sealed... lick... I still can't look into your mind..."
There was no audible response, or rather there was nothing that could have made it through the raging storm of laughter and incomprehensible begging. But for a split second, the petite frame cosying up against hers, letting her feel every jolt, every twitch of a muscle, every shudder of her hips - went completely limp in shock.
"That's right, Serie-sama... hmmmmh." Methode dragged her tickly tongue along the underside of her master's ear, nibbling her cute earlobe and licking up to the very tip. Her small captive howled in ticklish agony, the sweetest reward she could have asked for.
"I have to admit, you're playing the part very well - but it would have been wise to stop guarding your mind if you truly wanted to appear defenseless..."
"I WHAAAHHAAHAAGAHA, NOOHOHOOO WAHAHAIT THAT'S NOT - HYAAHYAAHYAHAAA!!!"
This girl was too easy. By now, Methode's exploring fingers knew every inch of those trembling sides like their own, the satin smooth skin their chosen new home. From her delicious pits down to her small, yet womanly hips, those wiggling curves and the tremor of her muscles told her everything she needed to know. The increase in panic as a pair of well placed fingertips vibrating between her lower ribs forbade her from answering was just too funny.
"GYAHAAHAA snort OHOHOHOUUHAAH!!! YOUHUUAAHAHA GOT IT ALL WROOHOAHAHAHAAAH... PLEHEEASE KYAAHAHAHAHA L-LET ME SPEAHEHEEE...!!"
In the silence that followed, the occasional clinking of her gold anklets against the seat and arm rests was the only sound as her naked legs thrashed about. Methode had found a deadly spot under her master's arms, relying only on her index fingers to apply devious pokes to the upper center of her hollows, right at the junction of her biceps and chest muscles.
"Don't worry, you can confide in me..." There was nothing particularly teasing in her tone as she casually, effortlessly dismantled the great Serie with two fingertips, one planted in each of her irresistable, wide open armpits. No mockery, only an almost motherly warmth.
"You love this, right?"
Methode dug a little deeper, probing inside the two treasure troves of heavenly softness and mind melting sensitivity that could only be found under an elf's arms. She smiled as she could feel her ticklish toy's heart racing in unwanted excitement, pounding against her fingertips.
"You can't move..." she whispered.
"You can't fight it..." Her breath tickled Serie's pointy ear, just before she kissed it.
"All you can do is... just take it." She kissed the other ear.
"There is noone except me and you, Serie-sama. Noone to expect decorum from you, or composure... or strength."
She realeased the elf from her forced silence as her fingers switched to an onslaught of cascasing ticklish strokes and wiggles, like a mad musician hitting the notes on the abnormally ticklish and dreadfully exposed body part. Quiet gasps of breathless desperation became helpless squeals, in a much higher and more girlish pitch than before.
"Right now, you're just a ticklish little girl." Methode smiled at the new, quite charming melody of mirth. "My cute, sensitive master... All blushing and giggling, and begging... just from my fingers under your arms, hmm? Isn't it riiiight here~?"
She poked the newly discovered weakspot again, careful not to get caught as the elf's head thrashed around in overwhelming, mindless hilarity.
"AARRRHAHAHAHAAAH, HYAAAHAHAHAA-AAH OHOOHOHO!!! OH PLEEHEHEASE, YES IT'S THEHEHAHAAH, KUUHUAAHAHAAA!!! NOMORENOMORENOMOOOHOHOORE!!! ANYHAHA, ANYTHIHIHIHIIING...!!"
"You don't have to deny it anymore..." the buxom woman swooned, drawing little heart shapes on her master's trembling pits. "You don't have to keep up the act. I... I have never seen you this happy before..."
A fountain of hysterical laughter erupted as, raptured by the moment, Methode took one of the elf's elegantly plaited braids and began wielding it like a paintbrush against the exposed, wide open armpit. The results were both instantaneous and devastating as the violent shaking of Serie's head sent the other braid flying - although it could have been the woman's lightning quick nails scribbling in the depth of her other, equally vulnerable hollow.
"NAAHAAH, OOH snort BAAHAHAHAAA!!! GODDESS AAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAHAOOH SAHAHAHAVE MEEEHEHEHEEE!!!"
"Serie-sama... I want you to be able to enjoy this moment to its fullest" Methode murmured, becoming increasingly aware of her own heat as her adored master was losing her mind, all thanks to a bit of her own hair spinning and brushing in her pits.
"Rest assured, I don't plan to stop~ However much you pretend to hate it, how profusely you keep begging..."
Serie's head whipped back, pushing into Methode's supple chest as the elf strained her neck with all her might to look up at her. Now it was the younger woman who let a gasp slip from her slightly parted lips, her hazel brown eyes widening in an unusual expression of surprise. So long had she been listening to her captive little mage's helpless squealing, her ever more riotous laughter and cackles and enjoyed her adorable attempts to free herself, all while feeling the petite, feminine figure and its delicious curves soothing her fingers and palms... that she almost forgot how long the two of them hadn't been face to face.
The elf's proud, almost noble features were twisted into something unrecognizable. Her once ivory skin was glowing hot pink, from her cutely flapping ears down to her graceful neck. Beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, the ancient mage's feverish blush betrayed a passion she hadn't felt in thousands of years. Her mouth twisted into an absurd grimace of laughter, wide open with shameless, overflowing mirth. Her eyes were swimming in tears, blurring the shimmering golden orbs that stared up at her - right into the woman's soul.
"AHAAAHAHO AAHAHALL DAAHAHAYYYY!! YOU MAHAY C-CARESS MY HEHEHEEEEEAADAHAHAHAAAH!!! HYAAAHAHAALL DAY LOOHOOONG!! I SWEHEAR I SWEEHEHEHEEARAHAHAAH, JU-JUHUST NO MORE AHAHAARMPIHITS PLEEHEHEHEEASE!!!"
The rest of Serie's attempts to bargain were swallowed by clumsy cackles, then coughing laughter, which finally faded into breathy giggles and panting. Methode blinked in stunned silence, looking quietly as a darker hue slowly spread over her own, already rosy cheeks. Her fingers had ceased their torturous play, lingering terribly close the legendary mage's perfect pits. Despite her exhaustion the elf kept flinching, her quite undignified giggles refusing to die down as every passing second held the threat of a renewed attack.
Instead, they were carefully brought up to her face. Resisting the urge to pet her head and stroke her silky hair immediately, the apprentice laughed as she wiped away the tears under her master's eyes, with the utmost tenderness, almost shyly.
"Oh, please, Serie-sama. You're still so committed to the act! Although your stubbornness is quite charming, hehe..."
Idly leaning against the throne, almost forgotten during her ticklish feast, the woman's wooden staff felt rough on her palms, spoiled by the lascivous softness of Serie's skin as she picked it up.
"Time to laugh again~"
Being blinded by her own tears was not something the greatest living mage was accustomed to. Neither were the beads of sweat rolling down her forehead and getting caught in her long eyelashes, or the burning of her muscles, the unimaginable exhaustion of screaming, struggling and fighting with everything she had, something the slothful elf loathed even without the embarrassment involved.
Under these circumstances, however, her hazy vision almost seemed like a small mercy granted to her. Feeling her rouge apprentice's fearsome nails dancing under her arms, devouring her utterly helpless pits as she stared into the empty throne room in wide eyed panic, unable to even look at her tormentor while being a slave to her own riotous laughter - it had been a nightmare in its own right. And yet, Serie wished she could return to that admittedly pathetic state.
"Do-HYAHAHAHAA NOOOO!!! Methode oooOOHOH, AHAHAHAAAH GO BAHAHACK!!! I'M BEGGING YOHOHOUU, go back toho MYYAAHAHAHAHA AHAARMPIHIITS AHAHAHA...!!"
Because for the past hour, or what seemed like it to the seriously dishevelled, hysterical elf in her giggling madness, the proud Serie had been forced to stare down at her own, naked feet.
"P-plehehease, HAHAHAHAAH PLEEASE!!! E-EAR LICKING TOOHOO!! AHAHOHOHONOOO, I'LL PERMIT AHAHYHAHA EVERYTHIHIIING!! YOU WIHIHIIIN!!!"
Despite taking immaculate care of them, and enjoying the feeling of grass or water swirling around her pampered soles so much that she went barefoot most of the time, Serie hadn't planned on ever getting this intimately acquainted with how her own feet looked. Specifically when they were bound, bare and helpless, so close yet infinitely far away from any help.
It wasn't that they were unpleasant to look at. Being indifferent towards the ephemeral beauty standards of humans didn't mean she was unaware of them - in the eyes of any man, her feet had to be considered beautiful. Their elegant shape, with supple white arches tastefully curved to accomodate curious fingers, smooth heels that shared the same innocent pink blush as the plushy ball, was something the kingdom's finest sculptors couldn't have done justice. Their small size, petite even by elf standards, made them irresistably adorable as they scrunched and wiggled, pristine toes with soft pads made for kissing showed impressive agility as they splayed and squirmed away from the tickling, making them even morr inviting targets.
No, it was simply that Serie hadn't know how brutally humiliating it would be to watch her weak, sensitive, pathetically ticklish feet get toyed with in such a ruthless manner. Juxtaposed with her pitiful squeals, her uproarious laughter between whimpering pleas for mercy, being forced to watch the step dance of nails over her smooth white skin drove her crazy with a new kind of anguish. Slow, meticulous circles around her cushiony heels had her gasping and moaning, tiny little scratches at the lower end of her pale arches caused gales of laughter. Tracing the cute dimples and creases that formed when she scrunched her soles made her snort and wheeze like a horse, and when Methode discovered how scandalously soft the pads of her big toes were, Serie had called herself her "ticklish little elf" for the first time.
Methode was torturing her. The lovestruck woman, erroneously believing that she was still somehow in control of her magic, that she could have put an end to this whenever she so desired, didn't show an ounce of mercy to her poor feet. Their absurd ticklishness only seemed to spur her on, every swish and stroke of her nails full of intent to drive only the most gut-wrenching laughter out of her squirming captive. The thought that she herself, Serie, would naturally be resistent to elementary psychic spells didn't seem to enter her mind, and she didn't give her a chance to explain it either.
"NAAHAHAAaaha... snort ...ooHOHOAHAAHAH HELP AHAAIIEEE CAHAN'T UUHYAAHAHAHAAH...!! METHOHOHODE let meHEEHEEAAHAHAA!!!"
"You sound quite adorable when you're having fun, oh Great Serie" Methode cooed, a repartee that would have been flirtatious even without all her fingers buried in the divine smoothness of elfish soles.
"Oooh you like it here? Right under the ball of your cute foot? Hehee, I'll make sure to remember that~"
Her position itself added to the mortifying mix, as Serie had been bound in a way she could only describe as insulting. The wild kicking and flailing to keep those far too nimble fingers away from her bare soles at all costs had invoked the wrath of more magical snakes, uncoiling and rising up from her throne with a lazily muttered spell. The slithering bands of silver had caught her ankles, a game Methode enjoyed far more than suitable, and with gentle might tied them together in a cross-legged position. With the soles of her now trapped feet facing upwards, prepped for easy access, her softly squirming toes remained the only part that wasn't fully immobilized.
"And here? Is the middle of the arch weak too? How about just one finger...? Haha, what a cute noise! I think I'll use all ten~"
Resting upon her own milky thighs as if placed on a cushion, which had the side effect of further restricting their movement, her perfect feet were displayed like exhibition pieces. As if to mock the elf for her arrogant carefreeness, for daring to show off these dainty feet without a thought in the world. Now she felt for the first time just how vulnerable they were, begging to be touched with nothing but her golden anklets as decoration. The upturned bare soles were staring at her almost accusingly in her tickle hazed mind as they slowly turned pink under the nails scratching away.
"M-MY MAAAHAHAGIHIIC WOAAHAHAAHAA, HMmmnnohooOHOHOHOO!!! IT WOHON'T AHAHAAAAH...!!"
Further snakes awakened by her disciple's magic coiled around her knees amd tied them to the armrests, spreading her legs further and ensuring that not the slightest bit of struggling would disturb the torment. The pose was known as the lotus seat, Methode had her informed, not that this piece of trivia helped lessen her sorrows. The woman's knowing fingers lit up every nerve in each foot, gently but with frightening intent behind their skillful movements. Sinking into the buttery skin, they left behind a firework of bright hot ticklishness on her creamy arches, fluttered along her graceful insteps only to pinch and goose the tender balls of her feet in the next moment. Only able to watch this mayhem on her defenseless soles, the helplessly tied up mage entered unseen heights of panic as her upper body shook and twisted as if possessed, bound hands uselessly straining against their cuffs.
"My my, I don't think I've ever tickled a girl as sensitive as you before... and there were a few~"
Serie howled as she felt the sensations intensify, seeping deeper into her sleek, supple arches with every word warmly whispered into her sensitive ears.
"I wonder if this is common with elfs? Hmmm... if that is the case, I would just die to play with Frieren-san as well~ Her apathetic look is quite charming, don't you think? What do you say, Serie-sama, won't you please introduce us...?"
The ridiculousness of her request didn't stop Serie from frantically nodding her head between delirious laughter. She was so overwhelmed, so utterly desperate to have it stop, there was no wish or demand she wouldn't have fulfilled her apprentice in a heartbeat. As seconds turned into minutes and the female fingers caressed every inch of her graceful arches, played with the tiny wrinkles and shamelessly explored the intimate softness between her toes, there were many such concessions the elf made amidst panicking laughter.
Of course she would introduce her to Frieren. Yes, her apprentice with the cute barrette too. No, she had no idea if the two of them enjoyed head pats, but she would make sure they agreed. She offered the woman to pet her own head as much as she liked, every day of the week, to play around with her ears, to kiss them even. She offered gold and jewelry, and after the woman's disinterest became apparent by a particularly mean flurry of fingers raining down upon her plush, trembling soles, she apologized under tears. And when Methode, with almost casual cruelty, asked her about a certain spell that had slipped her mind - "The one that removes all fatigue and heightens your senses, you know? Edel almost fainted from it, poor girl... You've got to remember it, right? Right, ticklish Grimoire~?" - all it took was her nails teasingly scratching under her soft, bubbly toes to make her splutter out an answer.
"Oh, right! How kind of you, Serie-sama. I'm much obliged... Zaphondrel!"
If she thought her armpits were her worst spot before, the fingertips pressing into the pliant, velvety smooth skin of her soles cleared this misconception. Methode's earlier fondling and massaging had lulled her into a false sense of security, believing that the playful caresses were the worst her delicate feet would have to face - maddening, almost unbearable, but not enough to break her.
"PLEEHEEHEEEAASE NO MOHORE, NO MORE TIHICKLES OHOHOAHAOHOOH!!! GRRRAHAHAHA plehease, grhnnaAHH-AHAAAHAHA, NOHO WAAHAIT, HEEEHEYAHAHAHAHAA I'M BEGGING YOU...!!"
She had been wrong. Another regrettable miscalculation on her part that now came back to bite her - that her feet, unused to any kind of touch and magically pampered to degrees of softness unattainable by human means, could be anything but disturbingly ticklish.
"AHANEEEHEYAAHAHAAEEEE OWAAAHAAHAAH!!! I KNOHOHOW I SAHAHAAID A-ANYWHERE EHEHELSE BUT AAHAHAAH!! NOT ON THE FEEEHEHEHEEET!! JUST NOHOT MY FEEHEET, AAHAIM SORREEHEEHEEE!!!"
She felt a new form of horror approaching as a warm, pleasant breath caressed her ears.
"NO, NO NOOOHOHO DON'T DO THAT THIHIHIIING...!!"
"Aaaw, tickle tickle..." came the doting teases that sent shivers throughout her body, caused her appetizing little toes to curl, set her nerves ablaze almost as badly as the sensitivity spell had just minutes earlier.
"I like how you keep begging, Serie-sama... it makes this whole thing so forbidden, despite you loving it this much~"
The nails capriciously twirling across the squishy balls of her feet began to lightly tickle her unruly toes, causing the sensitive digits to splay wide open immediately. Combined with the panic of her magically sensitized feet tingling madly just from being exposed to the air, the elf descended into gasps and silent laughter.
"Good girl, open wide... Now how about some tickles for these pretty toes, hmm? Tickle tiiiickle~"
She had never felt so helpless. Never felt so disrespected, yet devoutly admired at the same time. For someone as ticklish as her, so awfully weak against those tender touches that humans would exchange without thinking much of it, being tied up while tickled was the closest thing to hell she could imagine.
The hot tears rolling down her cheeks were proof of her suffering. Her pathetic pleas, glossed over by Methode as some sort of coquettish play, were genuine. The embarrassment of being forced into ever new spirals of tortured howling and ticklish despair, all while being told she loved it, was so overwhelming it hurt.
Yet, what had to be the worst of all, without a single doubt in her mind was - it was the truth.
She loved it. She needed it, the gentle yet dexterous fingers having their way with her soft feet, bare and defenseless, their pure white arches a willing sacrifice to the swarm of merciless nails descending upon them.
Every scratch and scribble over the tender, untouched skin sent shivers down her back that she wanted to ignore, but couldn't even in her babbling hysteria. Every well placed stroke made her shudder in ecstasy, drowning her in ticklish agony while having her secretly begging for more.
The second each of those loving nails had finished its course over her trembling soles, left the buttery smooth skin tingling with sparks of tickling bliss and cutely blushing from the attention, Serie was already yearning for the next one. And the next one always came.
Each one held a personal message for her. A message from student to master, from the hopelessly enamored woman who kept her hands dancing tirelessly over her naked feet, to herself - a quivering, cackling, adorably shrieking mess of an elf.
"YOHOOUREEAHAHA DEHEEMOHOHON!! GUAHAHAAHAAA snort BAAHAHAHAHAA!!! PLEEEHEHEEASE I GAVE YOUHUU EEHEHEVERYTHIIHIHING!!!"
She was Methode's toy. Utterly powerless, at her mercy with every fiber of her being. There was nothing she could do to stop her hands from ravaging her bare skin, squeezing the most ridiculous and humiliating sounds out of her that she would have rather died than let anyone hear. From exploring her taut body however she desired, down to its most sensitive amd secret spots, and having her squeal from every touch.
"...ANYTHING!!! MMMNNNHAHAHAHA A-ANYTHIHIING BUT NOHOOMOHOHOOHORE TIHICKLING!!! METHOOHODEE I, I IMPLOHORE YOUHUHUU IIAAHAHAHAHAA!!! I'M YOUR..."
There was nothing she could do but laugh, so there was nothing she had to worry about.
Saving face was impossible at this point as she happily thrashed about while begging for a break, wishing it would never come. She was her plaything, and she never wanted to be anything else. She was her...
"...That's right, Serie-sama~" Methode leaned closer while drawing circles on her creamy arches, flaxen blonde strands of hair tickled her collarbone.
"You're my ticklish little elf~"
Having a wide open, perfectly exposed pair of elf pits so close to her face without touching them would have been asking the impossible - under normal circumstances. However, Methode found herself bravely resisting their spell or perhaps, being to caught up in the moment to go for the delectable treat - because nothing about this was normal. Her high cheek nuzzled against Serie-sama's small head, whose silky hair felt so soothing under her touch, but could not even begin to compete with the wealth of lush skin all over her master's luxuriously pampered body. The lavish softness of her petite, elegant feet, under her slinky toes, on the sides of her slender neck and underneath her top. There was so much to play with despite her handy size, a feature Methode absolutely adored as she felt the girl's frantic twisting and squirming on her lap.
In the first place, weren't those feet just so very dear? Methode recalled that Second Class mage Edel's had been quite beautiful as well. A shapely, slightly wide pair of size 8's that turned out to be wonderfully sensitive, especially once they had all toes tied back and were glistening with oil.
But how could they hope to compete with these utterly irresistable, unbearably cute elf feet that tried their hardest to wiggle and flap, to escape the loving torment, and only managed to entice her more in the process? The dinky wrinkles appearing in her arches, softer than velvet, they were an admission of defeat and an invitation to play both at once. Her attractive toes, with cute bubbly pads despite being rather slender, could barely even wiggle anymore, only weakly scrunch to protect themselves from the very worst: A teasing nail worming between those supple digits, which always caused her to buck her hips in all sorts of directions.
"Now, I think you really liked it when I did this before..."
"OWOAHAHAHA HEY NOOOHOHOOO!! D-DONT PUHUSH MY TOHOHOHOOES BAHACK, METHODE NOOHOHOT THIS MmmmnNAAAHAHAAAH!!!"
What size were they even?, Methode mused as she did exactly that, placing her hand over the toes of one foot, drawing the sole taut and began to tickle the now perfectly smooth and helpless arch with her other. A two, maybe? One? Either way, they were obviously made to fit under the span of her fingers, irresistably twitching and hypnotizing in their naked beauty. She felt the desperately squirming toes pushing up against her palm, begging to be let go.
"OOH GODDEEHEHESS HAAHAHAHAA NOT MY POOHOOR FEHEHEHEEET!!! OOOOHMMM PLEHEASE I'M SOHO TIHIHICKLISH THEEEHEHEREE!! GYAHAAHA...!!!"
The woman's lips twisted into a slightly impish smile as her teasing fingers sped up. She wondered if her master, overwhelmed by tickling and ecstasy as she was, even noticed that her small moans had been getting louder and longer for a while now.
What finally moved Methode to abandon those lovely little feet were not the elf's begging, or promises of putting them in her lap every day if she would only stop for now - although she still graciously accepted that last offer. No, the real motivator had been discovering how absurdly sensitive the elf's legs were. Mostly naked thanks to her rather casual shorts, Serie's milky thighs had been serving their purpose as a cushion for her feet reliably. But once a few fingers went astray, venturing from crawling over her blushing tender soles on to the alabaster white, luscious skin of her exposed upper legs, it became clear that this alone would have been a waste of their qualities.
"OOHOOAAHAHAH, WOOHOHOO!!! W-WAWAWAAHAHAIT, EEHEEHYAHAAA TH-THAHAHAT'S TOO FAAHAHAHAHAAR!!!"
The wailing she got from her little toy was sublime. The tender ticklishness of Serie's thighs, plump and squishy like rice pudding, felt heavenly. The blonde let out a hearty chuckle, questioning why she hadn't come around to do this sooner.
"My! It seems someone is sensitive here as well~" she teased in a childish manner, abandoning the light fluttering of nails and wiggling her fingers into the lascivous softness with evil intent. "Are you really just helplessly ticklish all over~? Or do I just keep finding all the good spots by chance..."
The elf's babbling reply was incomprehensible, even to Methode, who had grown quite practiced at discerning her master's frantic pleading through her laughter. Caught in fits of mindless hilarity, the teary eyed mage struggled harder than ever, bucking her hips and desperately trying to close her legs, which were kept wide open and still for her probing fingers.
"I'll take that as a yes, then?" Playfully groping her smooth, malleable thighs seemed to work wonders, as she could feel the muscles twitch and tremble under the soft tissue. "Really, you're leaving yourself so exposed with this attire... you can't really blame me for this, right? Laugh for me my cute elf, tickle tickle tickle~"
There was no technique she tried on those beautiful, bare legs that didn't have her master in frenzied howling. The gales of desperate laughter spilled from her lips, wild and uncontrollable, no matter where on these silky smooth limbs she touched. The buttery skin yielded to her touch, offering not the slightest bit of resistance even when no pressure was applied. She felt goosebumps form under her fingertips as she lazily traced her nails across the luxurious surface, following the enticing curve of her thigh inwards, which seemed to mortify the elf just as much as it tickled her.
"OHSHEEHEAHA OOHOohmmmm, HOLDOHOHOON AAHAHAHAHAAH!! JUHUST PET MEEHEHEHEE ALREHEADY UUWAAHAHAHA, NOOOHO TIHIHICKLES!!"
It was as if her legs were created for the sole purpose of being tickled. Fully exploiting the wealth of ticklish nerves, Methode teasingly kneaded and pinched the sensitive flesh, feeling her fingers sink into the pliant skin like warm butter. Even lightly dragging them across the sleek surface created small grooves trailing her fingers, an adorable display that prompted her to repeat the action a couple dozen times.
"HAHAHAHAHA!!! O-AHAHAHA EEEHEEHELP MEEHEE!! SOMEOHOHONE, AHAHA S-STOP HER mmmMNAAHAHAHAAH...!!"
Slow, insistent pokes had her giggling out of breath, rapid squeezes along the insides of her tender thighs had her cackling maniacally. Adventurous fingernails grazing the undersides of her naked legs made the tiny mage scream in delight, and when Methode finally grabbed a handful each of the innermost part of her delicious thighs, right where the protection of her rather skimpy shorts ended, and began squeezing the quivering muscles, she was met by the most blissful wave of suffering laughter she had ever heard.
"Ah-aah, no escaping..." Methode admonished, not stopping her shameless abuse of Serie's otherworldy sensitivity inner thighs for a moment.
"If you buck your hips so much, I can't tickle you properly, Serie-sama~"
Another one of the magically animated snakes went over her lower belly, strapping her in for the ride as any and all movements of her hips were now impossible.
"That's better, isn't it? Now you can really focus on the sensations..."
The enamored gleam in her eyes became fiery as her thumb and index finger singled out the elf's thigh tendon, a sweet spot of exquisite ticklishness even among all the other fun spots. Slowly building up speed, she began the assault of light, incessant pinches on this delicate part and felt a violent jolt though Serie's petite frame.
"Isn't it just sooo ticklish here, Serie-sama~? Poor little elf, all trapped with nowhere to go~"
Aah yes, there it was again. The adorable view of long elfish ears twitching with excitement, on cue with her teasing. Quietly licking her lips, the apprentice decided to spoil her master some more.
"You can't move at all, can you? The great Serie, bound and helpless... I bet you wish you could close your legs right now, don't you~"
"SH-SHUHUHUU-SHUHUT UHUHUP AHAHAHAOOOH!!! OHHMMMNNAAHAHAHAHAHA, PLEHEHEASE...!!"
Serie's ears were scarlet red, now flapping wildly as if to applaud.
"And look where my hands are..." the woman cooed sweetly, unable to resist as her fingers glided inwards along the smooth, ticklish tendons on the inside of her master's legs, even dipping underneath the fabric of her shorts.
"Right between your legs... how does it feel, oh Living Grimoire? Isn't it embarrassing~?"
Her teasing did not provoke the expected answer however as Serie exploded with a firework of laughter and shrieks, surprising even Methode.
"HYYAHAHAHAHAA!!! AUUUGH IT TIIIHICKLES AHAHAHAH IT TICKLESAHAHA LIKE HEEEHEHHEHEHELL!! NOHO PINCHING AHAHAHAOHOH, DOHON'T MOOHOHOVE YOUR FIHINGERS AHAHYAAAAH!!!"
The squeezing stopped, leaving her gasping for air.
"HAHAahaha... Methode, this ahaha... t-this is enohough..."
The tips of her pointy ears were glowing bright red, but even they couldn't match the heat rushing to Methode's face as she heard the elf's last pleading words.
"Haah, please... come ohon, please give me a break noohoHOW!! METHODE!!"
Two silver snakes wormed under the hem of her shorts. Not wearing a belt, the lifeless creatures were able to invade the thin garment with no resistance, and Serie felt the cool touch of metal slithering along the most intimate and tender part of her legs as they went downwards.
"OHOOH!? Ohohohowaahahaiit NO...!!"
"It tickles... there?" The buxom apprentice muttered between heavy breaths, her ample bosom heaving now.
"Now I'm curious... Are there any more ticklish spots you're hiding from me...?"
The ropes of silver emerged from the legs of her shorts, gripping the fabric tightly. Methode felt a twinge of regret that she couldn't see her masters face, but it was wiped away by the mortified shriek as her intent became clear to the elf.
"No, noo!! I don't...! M-Methode, let us end this here. Please, you've had your f-fun... I won't ever tell anyone about this... please...?"
"Of course you won't" her disciple let out a delighted giggle. "It would be quite awkward, I imagine..."
Serie swallowed nervously. Her ears were practically vibrating right now, Methode could feel her tied hands twisting in anticipation. Heavens, she could practically hear the wheels turning in the elf's little head. Was it really that ticklish down there? She had to know, and if it was the last thing she did... which it might very well be.
"Woman...! I m-mean... Methode. By everything that's holy to you..." the mage began, stumbling over her words. The stretching noise of strained fabric was deafening in the brief silence.
"So dramatic... Relax, I'm only going to uncover the rest of these pretty legs~" Methode chirped excitedly. Her fingers went back to work softly fluttering across the supple skin right at the hem of her shorts, as if to tease that this line of defense was about to be breached.
"And besides... I've been wondering what color of panties the legendary Serie is wearing~"
"HUUH?? AHAaahaha noo, eheeheeek!! YouaAHAHA dohon't understand...!!"
One after the other, linen garment's threads could be heard popping, as the snakes began pulling and the fabric came apart.
"Methode, PLEASE!!!"
Riiiiip!
The reason for her despair became apparent as soon as the snakes had torn her shorts to shreds, leaving her exposed to any and all ticklish exploration from the waist down. Methode was jubilant, already imagining her nails tracing the elf's lavish thighs down to previously unexplored depths, pinching and tickling around the sure-to-be-sensitive area right below her smallclothes... Leaning forward, the blonde woman cast down a shameless glance over her captive's shoulders, filled with burning curiosity of what an elf's panties would look like, and saw...
"Oh..."
Nothing. Not the tiniest bit of fabric remained to cover the Great Serie's most sacred place, the most beautiful and tender part of her body that no man could have ever dreamed to lay eyes on.
"Oooh my~"
The woman was spellbound, unable to look away from what she felt was a sight forbidden to mortals. She'd had no intention of fully stripping her master, but now that it had come to pass... she found it impossible not to feast her eyes on her nakedness.
"Serie-sama... you cheeky girl~"
Serie had the cutest, most perfect pussy she had ever seen. Completely smooth and hairless, its wonderful sleekness made it look even more exposed, granting an unimpeded view over every nook and cranny. It looked unbearably tender, and Methode felt her fingers itch with the need to feel the creamy, velvety skin. The faintest touch of wetness glistening on her soft lips. Her tight slit, drawing a gorgeous parting line between them.
"Y-you MORON!" Serie yelped, her voice thin and unsteady with embarrassment. Slowly regaining the rest of her senses, Methode could feel her little heart pounding wildly.
"I... I told you not to...!!"
"My bad" the scolded apprentice said sheepishly, but she was unable to wipe the smile off her face. "I didn't mean to..."
A giggle interrupted her apology.
"But really... who could have guessed that the Great Serie was going commando?"
"Uuugh!" the elf groaned, flustered beyond belief. "Stop calling me that...!"
Although her master's adorable huffing was something she couldn't get enough of, Methode only half listened as her gaze stayed transfixed on the appetizing little snatch under her eyes. With her waist strapped down and her legs spread wide apart, there was nothing the humiliated elf could do to hide it. The stretch ever so slightly forcing her rosy lips to splay apart, as if winking at her.
The First Class mage felt like she was under one of her own hypnosis spells. Serie's bare womanhood, something so unthinkable and forbidden... it just sat there, almost shyly between her legs. Small, like the rest of her body. And all too vulnerable.
Her cheeks formed into a grin, uncharacteristic for the usually poised woman. Surely this pussy had never been tickled before, right?
"This... this..." the elf was visibly fighting for words. Her apparent despair had given way to meek exasperation, as she inconspicuously shifted and tried to close her thighs.
"This is... you lunatic! Are... are you satisfied now? You've humiliated me..."
"Satisfied?" Methode inquired cluelessly, brushing loose strands of hair from her master's sweat and tear soaked face.
"Why, what gave you the idea that our little rendezvous was over?"
Serie gasped, turning her head to look up at her in shock.
"What?! But I... no, y-you don't mean...!"
"I do~" Methode whispered, watching the golden eyes widen in fear, disbelief and thrilled anticipation. She really was a poor actor. "I think I haven't played enough with my ticklish toy yet..."
Her fingers came alive, and immediately the elf's intense glare became an adorable mask of suppressed laughter, as she squinted her eyes and snorted.
"Hhnngh... n-noho-hohoo... Don't you dare!! AAHYEEEH!!" she squealed, the unstoppable fingers gliding across her supple thighs breaching her defenses effortlessly.
"Methode, I will really kill you this time!"
"I doubt it" came the rather nonchalant answer. "I think you want this even more than I do..."
"I don't! I haahahate being tiiihickled! Ahahahahaa!"
The disrobed little mage was pushing herself into her, trying to raise herself by her tied hands as if attempting a pull-up, anything to get away from the wiggling nails closing in on her most private spot. But no matter what she did, her butt remained seated on the younger woman's lap, her legs and feet remained bound in the snake's tight embrace, and her bare pussy stayed perfectly still. The sense of total helplessness seemed to it, briefly overshadowing even her obvious excitement.
"WAAAHAHAIIT!!" she squealed, almost whining as the smooth creases between her thighs and groin became acquanited with lightly scribbling nails.
"AHAAOOH Methoohohode! Plehease AAHAHAAH not like this!!"
She shook her head frantically, whether to emphasize her refusal or because the titillating fingers between her legs didn't leave her a choice - Methode couldn't tell.
"Please, dohon't tickle me while I'm naked!!"
"Oooh yeees~" the apprentice taunted. "Tied up, and naked... just the right way for a ticklish little elf~"
Had she known just how bad it would be, Serie would have thought twice about taking it easy on her disciple during their duel. She started to regret it now, feeling her tummy ache and her lungs burn from laughter. Uncontrollable, ear-piercing howls, wails of defeat she had never thought would leave her mouth. Stammering pleas and admissions of defeat that she wished would have never crossed her lips. And still, she kept debasing herself further and begging for mercy, because she simply couldn't take it.
Her pussy was so ticklish. Something she wouldn't ever have imagined, not that the question would have entered her mind in the first place. But here she was, forced to learn about this weakness the hard way, and it had to be at this woman's hands.
"HYYAAHAHAHA, AHAYEHEHEEE AHA HEHELP, M-METHOHODE AHAA-HAHAHAAAH!!! YOU'RE KIHILLING MEEEE!!!"
This woman who knew her body so well, much better than herself. She was toying with her, playing her like an instrument, forcing her to dance like a puppet on strings just by lightly, tirelessly, teasingly tickling her pussy. Her skillful feminine fingers showered the poor tender thing with gentle strokes of her nails, barely more than grazing the soft skin. But in her hyper sensitive state, receptive to her disciple's every tough, every word, she could not resist a single one of them.
"I'M AAHAHAHAHA Y-YOOHOUR TIHICKLISH ELF, I'M YOUR TIIIHIHICKILISH EHEELF!! PLEHEASE I'M BEGGING YOUHUUU!!!"
The tingling, fuzzy heat in her lower belly, raging like a wildfire ever since Methode's manicured nails had descended on her lower lips, it grew almost painful when she felt the familiar warm voice caress her ears.
"Coochie coochie coooo~" Methode sung a silly childish tune. "My ticklish little elf has a ticklish little pussy~"
She doubled over in laughter, consumed by shame and raging desire. It tickled so bad. The tiny, prickly scribbles and strokes over her otherwordly sensitive lips. The loving, yet toturous swirls of her nails over her smooth mound. The spikes of mind melting sensations when one of her fingers lightly flicked her ticklish slit, grazing her pink petals. She wanted to close her legs so badly, more than anything in the world. She wanted her dignity back, her unwavering poise, the blissful ignorance about how desperately sensitive she was - and leave this nightmare where she was powerless, pant-less, this insane woman's squealing, begging tickle toy.
So she thought, or at least, one part of her brain did. But the other part, in her delirious arousal, knew perfectly well that she didn't want the tickling to end. She would be anything Methode wanted her to be.
But then again, regardless of what she felt right now, could she even allow herself such twisted thoughts? Could she let herself, Serie, slowly turn more and more submissive at her disciple's hands, with no regard for her position? Were those deranged illusions not a sign that she was already too far gone, that she had to put an end to this immediately?
"Perhaps we can do this after the headpats, from now on? What do you say, Serie-sama? Will you let me tickle your cute pussy, whenever I ask for it~?"
The wise thing, of course, would be to kill her. But how could she, when the foreseeable future promised to hold so many more of these precious moments?
No. She needed to escape, to get away from this woman, away from the city. The solitude of the Northern mountains where she could think clearly, forget everything about this day, from her crushing humiliation to the intense desire and joy she derived from it. Once she had gotten her thoughts in order, once she understood who she was and what she wanted again, she could make a decision. She needed to be alone with herself. Just for a couple of years...
"METHOOHOHODE HAVE MEHERCYYY!! PLEEHEHEEASE MMMNNOOHOHOHOO!!!"
But for now, this was fine. This moment belonged to the two of them. Noone else would ever witness her in this sorry state, so noone would judge her. Serie leaned back, sinking into the embrace of the woman whose soft fingers were buried deep in her ticklish nethers, closed her eyes and laughed freely.
"I BEG YOUUU!!! KYAAAHHAHAAHA!!! I'LL LET YOUUAAHAHAHA TICKLE MY PUSSY!! WHEHENEVER YOU WAAAHAHAHANT!!!"
So joyous was her laughter, that she didn't hear the creaking of the heavy wooden door that Methode had closed, but not locked behind her. It was only the sharp, bright shattering of fine porcelain on the floor, followed by the tinkle of countless shards scattering across the polished marble, that awoke the two of them from their trance.
Sense stood in the door, motionless like a statue. Her face, small and white between her abundant mane of lush gray hair, was a mask of pure shock. Unable to even blink, her deep eyes full of confusion, the girl was still holding a kettle in her right hand, from which hot tea slowly poured onto the ground.
"Uh... ummm... S-Serie-s-s-ama..."
Serie only stared at her, equally petrified. A single tear of laughter rolled down her cheek. Her naked, clearly visible pussy was pulsating with need.
"You... y-your..." Sense stuttered, a lovely blush creeping up her neck.
"...a... afternoon tea...?"
Serie made an attempt to speak, but Methode was quicker, putting a hand over her mouth. The other extended towards their uninvited guest, waving a finger in a friendly come-hither motion.
"Sense-san! Just at the right time" she greeted the stunned woman as if they had met in the library, her calm voice as soothing as ever.
"Would you like to join us?"
For more ticklish adventures, check my DA gallery: https://www.deviantart.com/justsome...ride-Part-2-Frieren-tickling-story-1017300372
An Elf's Pride - Part 2
"F-FINE!! OAAHAHA-AHAA-AHAAA!!! YOU MAY OHOWOAAAHHAHAHAA!!! YOU MAHAHAY CARESS IHIIT!! BUT STOOOHOHOHOOP!!!"
Methode halted her administrations, pursed lips less than an inch away from her smooth, alabaster white midriff. Serie could feel her hot breath on her skin, now slick with saliva. Huffing, panting, giggling like an idiot, she stared at her apprentice with pleading eyes. The young woman's straw-blonde hair tickled her tummy as she turned her head a little, casting her a mischievous sideways glance.
"You promise you won't get mad when I pet you? Or maybe even... ruffle your hair?"
Still breathing heavily, the elf immediately felt the regret of having succumbed to her weakness. Out of all the ways she had ever thought possible to be defeated, this stood out as something she couldn't have imagined in her most feverish dreams. She couldn't recall ever feeling so humiliated.
"I... I promise" she muttered through gritted teeth, averting her eyes. "You may touch it how... h-however you please..."
"For how long?"
"Huh?"
There was a wicked gleam in the girl's eyes. Her chin gently grazed Serie's bare stomach, forcing her master to inhale sharply as her mouth immediately twisted into a moronic grin.
"For how long will you allow me to caress you? Our previous arrangement specified ten minutes, I believe..."
"P-ppfffhht...!! Then lehet it be t-ten mihinutes!" Serie stuttered, an adorable snort escaping her as she felt Methode's chin and lips ever so lightly nuzzle against her skin.
"Eeeh...? That feels a bit short, though..." Methode sighed, sounding disappointed. Her nose was tracing the slight curve of the elf's midriff, trailing down her slender tummy until it got dangerously close to her belly button.
"I meheehaha...! I meant twenty!" The small mage hurriedly exclaimed, her voice shaking as she frantically tried to suck in her tummy. But even this didn't save her, as her apprentice gave her a warning glance, slowly inhaling as her lips pressed into her tender, enticingly ticklish midsection.
"THIRTY!!" she wailed, her amber eyes widening in abject horror. "Thihiirty minutes! M-my ears too! But ple... ju-juhust stop!!"
"Oh goodness~" Methode said sweetly. Finally she lifted her head, leaving Serie's still bare stomach tingling from the lingering sensation of her warm, ticklish breath caressing her skin.
"You must be really weak against tickling, Serie-sama... given how much I had to plead for you to allow me just ten minutes last time. So adorable~"
She looked down at the huffing, panting bundle in her arms with almost possessive love, while Serie turned and twisted her head all sorts of ways so she couldn't see her scarlet red face. Was this girl slow, or did she just love stating the obvious? Either way, this was an absolute disaster. She could not allow anyone to find out about this obscene and utterly humiliating incident. She would have to silence Methode, one way or another... But first, she had to escape her clutches.
"I... I merely f-figured I was being too harsh before" the ancient mage murmured through tight lips, grinding out each word while intently staring at some spot on the ceiling. Fortunately, Methode seemed pleased with her response.
"Is that so?" the apprentice beamed, sounding genuinely happy. "You always seemed so reluctant, but... I am really glad we have reached an understanding!"
Screaming internally, Serie valiantly tried to force a smile on her face to match her student's enthusiasm. She still couldn't even move her arms, and even if she wasn't caught in the much stronger woman's grasp, she would be defenseless until the spell got lifted.
"Y-yes, so am I. So if you would kindly undo the spell... M-Methode...? Methode, what do you think you are doing?"
Her poorly feigned smile twisted into an annoyed scowl as the world began to spin around her. Carrying the elf just as effortlessly as a little lamb, Methode took a few steps before turning around, casually sitting down on her master's throne. Serie, nestled on her lap, was less than amused by this point.
"For heaven's... will you let me go already!" the dainty mage half groaned, half hissed as she twisted and turned like a cat trying to escape the wash tub. "And get out of my seat! It is not for some clumsy human to rest on!"
"Oh?" Methode giggled, an amused twinkle in her gaze as she leaned back, gently but firmly keeping the elf immobilized. "On the contrary, Serie-sama. I'd say this throne was originally made for a human, considering its size... although, hehe... it does look very cute when you sit on it..."
"Gnnnh...!! Whatever!" Serie grumbled, exasperated. Listening to more of these lecherous rambling was not something she could endure in her current state. Moreover, she figured the humiliation involved with having a tiny elf-sized throne custom made, only to be on eye level with everyone's belt buckles, were not something this simpleton could understand, or should know of really.
"I don't care, just release me already."
Methode did not understand herself. Serie-sama was kindhearted - despite her efforts to pretend otherwise, and the sullen ruggedness she displayed only served to make her even more adorable. Nevertheless, the First Class mage wasn't foolish enough to assume she could act with impunity. As soon as her master regained the slightest control of her mana, her life would hang by the exceedingly thin thread that was Serie's clemency. And yet, with just as much certainty, the young woman knew that she was not going to stop here.
How could she, when everything the elf did was just an invitation to tease her even more? When she would chortle and cackle so adorably, just from a few light touches? When her skin, smooth and free of imperfections, was inviting her eager fingertips like a soft bed after a hard day's work? Methode could not explain it, the wonderful magic of her master's wild, tumultuous laughter, hearing the overflowing joy in her voice that she tried so hard to contain, watching her languid expression turn into blushing, teary eyed hilarity...
"Hey, are you listening? I swear, if you don't let go of me I will..."
Her petulant protests, her grumbling that Methode knew could so easily be turned into the most delightful giggles, just by a few well placed fingers. Her light, petite body twisting and squirming against her own as the elf fought to put herself into an upright position. Her head pushing up against her bosom, her small, firm butt moving around on her lap...
"...insanity! I can not be seen like th-aahaa, naaa-haahaah!! Oh noho, not agaahahahaain!!"
As if on their own, her fingers had begun the steep climb up her master's slender sides, slipping under the fine linen of her blouse and crawling over her smooth, exposed skin. They gently pinched and squeezed her tender flanks, poked and prodded the sensitive pockets of her hips, ticklishly vibrated between each of her ribs, all while steadily climbing higher.
"Waahaait ohhooohohoho!! I caaa-hahahaa, I AAHAHAHAAH c-can't tahahake anymooOHOHORE!!"
She could feel Serie's delicate frame shaking with laughter, the smooth and creamy texture of her skin, the pleasant warmth under her fingertips. How unfortunate, it briefly crossed her mind, that a body so ticklish was just so enjoyable to touch.
"AAAHAHAHAA!!! STOP TOHOUCHING MEEHEHEEE!! STOHOOP YOU LUNATIHIC AUUUHAAHAAAAA!!! CUHURSE YOUHUHUUU!!!"
Methode's fingers scribbled up and down her ribs, freely exploiting Serie's defenseless midriff despite the elf's writhing and desperate attempts to catch her hands and keep them off of her. Things got even worse, however, when they eventually found the oh so sensitive spot to either side of the elf's pert breasts, rapidly wiggling around in the treasure trove of ticklish tenderness.
"M-Methohoode!! Not theeehEHEEERE AAAAAAAH!!! OOWAAHAHAHAAA I GIVE UHUP AAHAHA, I GIVE UHUHUUP!!"
"What was that~?" the flaxen haired girl chirped, not stopping or even slowing down for even a second as the poor little mage exploded with gut-wrenching laughter. "I am quite sure I must have misheard... did the mighty Serie-sama just surrender? Just because of a little tickling...?"
"Y-YOUHUU WRETCH!! IDONTFFAAAHAHAHAHAH!!!" her unfortunate victim howled, rocking back and forth in ticklish hysterics while her dainty hands uselessly grabbed her much larger wrists.
"YES AAHAHAHAHAHAA, YES AYAAHAHA I SURRENDEAHAHAA!! JUST MAKE IT STOOHOHOHOOP!!!"
Her fingers were rivaling the wings of a hummingbird, coaxing forth adorable guffaws and yips as their rapid fire of pokes and squeezes penetrated deep into the sensitive flesh. The torturous onslaught also caused a delightful jiggling of Serie's modest yet lovely bust - something that was brought to Methode's attention by the wonderful feeling her master's supple, squishy breasts softly flapping against her fingers. A skewed grin spread over the young apprentice's face.
"Reaaally~" she cooed, lowering her head so she was closer to the elf's long, pointed ears. "Now that is quite funny... I could have sworn you were adamant about not being ticklish before~"
"M-METHOHOHOOODEE!!!" the elf wailed, a noticeable red hue lighting up those large, all too adorable ears. "I'M SOHORRYYAHAAHAA!! I... I AAHAHAHAAM!! I CAHAN'T AHAHAHAHAA!!! NO MOHORE, JUST P-PFFHAAAHAHAHA NO MORE TICKLIHING!!"
Her laughter had taken on a desperate tone, her frantic protests were more pleading than demanding. Her helpless thrashing, the wild, raucous gales that spilled from her lips, surprisingly deep given her small stature, yet irresistably cute - it all betrayed the Living Grimoire's most charming weakness.
"But... wouldn't that mean you lied before?" Methode questioned, her nimble digits now alternating between light, methodical strokes and playfully pinching the sides of Serie's clearly ticklish breasts. "That's no good... you should strive to be a shining example for aspiring mages..."
The elf sputtered something incomprehensible, her response washed away by the flood of bellowing laughter. Even without seeing her face, Methode knew that the ancient mage was crying in ticklish anguish. She was twisting and convulsing, bucking so violently that it made her wonder how this delicate body could have so much strength left. Thankfully her own chest provided an ample cushion, so the hysterical elf could throw around her head without hurting herself. But watching her overawing master, this paragon of magical might, dance under her fingers, lose herself in mindless ticklish hilarity, feeling her little body press up against hers...
"You know..." Methode whispered breathily, her lips just inches away from the elf's hot, blushing ears. "Serie-sama... I might have done this much sooner had I known..."
Without any warning, her fingers left the welcoming softness of Serie's jiggling breasts and crawled up a couple of inches - a brief journey, but one with devastating effect as her nails dipped into her master's defenseless, silky smooth armpits.
"...what a ticklish little elf you are~"
"OUHUHH, AAAAAH!!! WAAAHAHAAHAHAA NOOOHOHOHO!!! NOHOHOOOT THEHEHEERE!!!"
Her laughter reached an explosive crescendo before deteriorating into desperate, almost mewling noises. The young woman smiled as she allowed her marauding fingers to run wild in those pliant, tender hollows, enraptured by the cacophony of ticklish mayhem she was causing with just the tiniest scritches and scratches across her master's supple skin.
"OOOUUHOHONOOO G-GEEHEHET OHOUUT HAHAHAAA!!!" Serie screamed, shaking her head so forcefully that a braid of golden hair hit Methode square in the face. "OHOOHOUUH YOUHAHAVE TO STOHOP!!! ANYTHIHING AAAHAAHAUUHUUH!! ANYTHING BUT THIHIS OOHAHAHAHAAAH!!!"
Overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of hellish tickling and driven by instinct, her arms snapped to her sides like a toy soldier, clamping down on Methode's fingers. A fatal mistake, as she was quickly taught since they were now trapped beneath her soft underarms, gleefully resuming their torturous wiggling and squirming in the prison of warm, ticklish tenderness.
"That won't do you any good..." Methode sweetly cooed, feeling every muscle in the elf's petite body spasm in response to the slightest movement of her fingers. "Scheming to capture me with such foul tricks...?"
"IYAAAHAHAHA I CAHAAN'T AHAHAHA HEEELP IHIT!!" the golden haired mage wailed, professing her innocence through riotous laughter. Her crazed cackling became even more frantic as Methode began to twist her fingers, wriggling them in the divine softness of her armpits with malicious intent.
"I SWEEHEHEAHAR AHAHAHAAAH!!! ME-HEEAHAHA METHODEHEHAHAHA, MHHM-PFHHAHAHAHAAA....!!!"
"Open up, Serie-sama... open up your little armpits~" the straw-blonde beauty sang, completely enamored with the way her proud master was guffawing and wheezing, losing her mind just from the smallest movements of her fingertips. "Or I shall help you~"
"I caahahn-NYYAAAAHAHAHAAAH!!! I CAAHAHAN'T, I REALLY CAN'T!! GRRRAAAHAHA, GAHAHAHAHAA DOHON'T MOVE YOUR FIIIHINGERS I BE-AHHAHAHAAAH!!!"
If there was one saving grace, it was that Serie at least no longer had to bear the humiliation of being face to face with her student. The cool countenance she had perfected over ten thousand years - blissfully unaware that Sense and the others simply attributed her drowsy expression to a deeply rooted laziness - was twisted into something she would rather die than let anyone else see. Especially this lecherous lunatic, who giggled and cooed into her ears while she had her fingers buried so deep in her tender, ticklish underarms.
"KHAHAHAHAHAAAH!! IF YOU JUHUHUUUST OOO-HOHOHOO!!! STOP TEEEHEEAHAAHAHA, TICKLING M-MEEHEHEHEEE I CAHA- WOHOOAAHAHAHAAAH!!!"
She was spouting gibberish at this point, but it was all she could do in her desperate bid to convince this girl to stop bullying her silky hollows. The tickling took away her breath, forced every stern rebuke and genuine plea to leave her mouth as childish, chaotic laughter. She felt hot tears running down her face, her lungs burning as she doubled up in hysterical mirth. Her hands were uselessly flailing, arms firmly pressed to her sides with the irresistible urge to protect her tormented pits, to buy them just a few seconds of rest from the merciless abuse.
"Oh I see. It would appear Serie-sama is still being a bit hard-headed..." The words sweetly trickled into her foggy mind like honey, both affectionate and terrifying. "Then I guess you leave me no choice~"
"W-WWAAAIT!!!" the elf cried, panic driving her frenzied cackling to even greater heights. "WHATEVER YOUHOOO-OHOHOO...!! DOOOHOHOHON'T AAAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"Schellsengen."
Not for naught, Serie was known among mages as the Living Grimoire. Whether it was born by the archaic rituals of the Southern tribes or by exegesis of the Goddess' scriptures - there was nary a spell she hadn't seen in her ten thousand years of life. Which was why, as soon as she heard the incantation, the elf's maniacal laughter was cut by a discernable gasp.
"Whaaahaah?! H-hold on a secohond...!!"
Like cobras rising to the tune of a pan flute, the armrests of her luxurious throne seemed to liquify, coiling and undulating with unsettling movements that were all too akin to the venomous beasts they resembled. Rearing their faceless heads, they seemed to stare at the elf whose golden eyes were darting from left to right, following their tranquil movements as they closed in on her.
"Methode, this... this has gone too far already..." she stuttered, her voice shaky as the silver snakes wrapped themselves around her gracile wrists. "You d-don't have to... No really, I promise I will keep my arms up..."
"Hmmm, I have my doubts about that" Methode gently denied her. "You are squirming an awful lot, and I've barely even touched these pretty underarms~"
Barely touched? Serie could have sworn she still felt every single one of the woman's fingertips, her smooth, tingling hollows abuzz with the fresh memory of their scratching, poking and prodding. She groaned, trembling as she fought against the living shackles which slowly, almost teasingly raised her hands above her head. She could feel cool air stroking the pale, sleek skin, left maddeningly exposed by her sleeveless top. The petite mage was practically shivering with apprehension, the thought of Methode's nails plunging into her armpits filling her with the nervous anxiety of someone who just discovered how pathetically ticklish they were.
"S-stop it" she implored, in a tone that was much closer to a whimper than she would have liked. "I've given up! There's no point in this anymore, stop!"
The silver snakes did the opposite, pulling her arms even higher until her delicate pits were stretched completely taut. The chains slithered across Methode's shoulders towards the nape of her neck, pulling Serie's hands along until they touched before meticulously tying them together. The proud mage was left with her arms raised, hugging the taller girl's neck in an embrace that looked deceivingly playful - leaving her truly and utterly helpless.
"Methode, no, listen to me!"
"Oh, I'll listen~" Methode purred like a cat, clearly reveling in her master's fearful pleading. "I'll listen very closely... to each and every cute noise that comes out of you..."
"NOOOO!! Wait, we cahan ahAAH!!" The elf jumped in surprise, a childish giggle bursting through her tight-lipped tension as two hands slowly began to walk up her sides like huge spiders, ever so lightly poking her with every step. "We can hyyaAAH!! Tahalk ahaah about thihihiiiss!!"
"Yes, we'll talk lots and lots..." the flaxen haired beauty muttered under her breath. The elf was trembling all over in nerve wrecking, unbearable anticipation, yipping and squealing as those feathery fingertips were climbing higher and higher. "For example, we can talk about how much you love to be tickled~"
"I... I do NOT!! Ahaaahahaha!! NOHOT THERE!!" Serie laughed, unable to contain herself as her student's tantalizing fingers marched past her sensitive breasts, not without getting in a few scribbles along the magically soft, sensitive mounds. "I hahate being t-tickled! IIYAAHAHAA, I cahan't TAKE IHIIT!!"
The fingers stopped, hovering above her dreadfully exposed underarms like an executioner's sword. Serie felt every muscle in her body tense up, every single nerve beneath her skin aching, waiting to be set ablaze by a fury of ravaging nails.
"Hmmm... so you still won't admit to it, Serie-sama..."
The elf's golden eyes were wide and terrified, her head turning from side to side as if staring at the waiting talons would somehow stop them. Shaking like a leaf in a storm, panicked giggles spilled over her lips, no matter how hard she tried to stop them.
"...my giggly little elf~"
The greatest of all mages gasped as she heard these loving words teasingly whispered into her long ears. Her head sunk into her chest, hiding her face from the younger woman. She did not understand herself anymore. Why were her cheeks lighting up like a chandelier, just from this broad's silly teasing?
"D-don't you ever... call me thahat agahaAAAH HYYAAA-HAHAHAAAA!!! WAAAHAHAHAHAAANNOOOOOO!!!"
This solitary moment where she failed to brace herself, the split second in which she had been lured to let her guard down. The devilish woman was playing her like a fiddle, and Serie could only curse herself before the all encompassing sensations swept over her, filling every cell in her body with the animalistic, desperate need to escape.
"AAHMMWAHAHAHAAAH!!! MEHAA-HAHAHA M-MEHEHETHOOHOHOODEEE I FUUAAAHAHAHAARRGH!!! GYAAHAHAHA NAHAHAHATTHEHEHEHEERE!!!"
She was babbling, stammering complete nonsense. Sputtering inanities that barely resembled any spoken language, the petite elf erupted in deafening laughter as Methode's sharp nails began to ravage the lush, sensitive skin. They crawled up and down her smoothly curved hollows, freely exploring the snow white valleys of softness beneath the elf's bound arms. They spun, twirled and frolicked across the silk like surface, every stroke eliciting explosive laughter, performing a ticklish dance of victory and forcing her to sing for them.
"BAAHAHAHAHAA EEHEHEMAMAHA M-MAAHAHAKEITSTOOHOPAAHHA!!! NOTTHAAHAHAAA MY AHAHARMPFHHEEEAHA KYAAAHAAH!!!"
She, Serie, had lost. Slowly worn down by every manicured nail traversing the sea of cute wrinkles in her ivory soles, every squeeze of her alabaster stomach and sides. Mortified by the ridiculous howls and shrieks these instruments of sweet torture could force out of her with shocking ease. Her body refused to obey her, as did her magic did in this greatest hour of need. The exuberant, overflowing power she possessed lay dormant inside her, stubbornly refusing ro save her from this agony no matter how much she kept begging for it.
"I REHEEYAAAHAHA, I NEEHEHEHEEHEEDAAHAHA snort I NEHHEEDYOUTOAAAHAHAA!! STOOHOHOHOP GUUAHAHAHAAAH!!! AAAHAHAHAH COMEOHOHOON I REALLY NYYAAAHAHAHAAH!!!"
Her royal vermeil robe lay crumpled on the ground, lost somewhere during their earlier scuffle. Without the plushy ermine bolstering her shoulders, the elf's slender neck and collarbones could be seen, fair and pale like the moonlight. Snorting, wailing and kicking her bare feet, the Great Mage was wearing only her thin white garments - and what she had to assume was the most pathetic, idiotic laughing expression one could imagine.
"HEEEEHEHEEELP MEAHAHAHAAAAA!!! ANY-AAAAYAHAHAHAAH, ANYOHONE!! OOOHOHOAHAHAHAAA, PLEHEASE AHAHA-HAAAA SAVE MEEHEE!!!"
She had lost, and she knew it. She knew with every fiber of her being that she could not take any more, the soul crushing realization of just how hopelessly, debilitatingly ticklish her small armpits were having shattered the last bit of her resistance. Embarrassingly smooth and supple as they were, those valleys of untouched, pristine skin could barely endure a wet sponge during bathtime, let alone this.
"No wayyy~" Methode chirped, giggling excitedly as her nails sped up. Skittering and flitting across her master's luxurious underarms, stretched taut and helpless so that every inch was at its most vulnerable, they explored her ticklish weakness with humiliating attention to detail. Precisely mapping all the sweet spots that got her to squeal and snort amidst laughter, unfailingly finding all the nooks and crannies that made her shake her head in senseless hilarity.
"Did the great and fearsome Serie just say... please?"
Serie, caught in a laughing fit, simply nodded while tears rolled down her cheeks. Clumsy, desperate cackles spilled from her lips, her cocky smirk replaced by a crazed rictus that betrayed pure panic, yet looked undeniably adorable.
"This is becoming so much fun! Are all elves this ticklish, or is it only you Serie-sama?"
Methode's fingers sunk into the soft, welcoming skin, lighting her nerves on fire with every devious swish and stroke.
"Hehee~! To be begging for help just from a few tickles, how cute you are~"
The tingling sense of embarrassment made her feel dizzy, filled her stomach with butterflies, an indescribable feeling of free fall as she came to be fully, unconditionally at this dangerous woman's mercy. Golden hair went flying as the elf thrashed violently, gasping and wheezing as her student's treacherous fingers plundered her silky hollows.
"AAHEEEHAHAHAHAH, I'M SEEEHEHEERIOHOUUS I NEEHEEEDAHAHAHAHAAH, OOHOHONO NOT THEHEERE!!!"
It was so endlessly frustrating. All the strength in her small body wasn't enough to pull down her arms, leaving her sleek pits exposed and vulnerable for her all too enchanted disciple to play with them however she pleased. Her nails were crawling up and down the smoothly curved slopes of creamy white tenderness, eagerly pinching the supple skin that was trembling and shaking under the torment. They swished and twirled over the delicate surface, alternating between light scratching and digging into the most forbidden depths of her terrifyingly sensitive armpits. She couldn't get used to it, she simply couldn't bear it, not in another ten thousand years.
"If you want to beg someone, why don't you beg me~?"
Hot and heavy, the buxom woman's velvety voice graced her ears. Her fingers began spinning in rapid little circles, massaging the elf's tiny armpits in a way that was ticklish beyond belief. The gasping laughter that filled the room with its warm joy took on a desperate note as the almighty Serie bucked and twisted, helplessly jumping up and down on the woman's lap.
"HAHAHAHA I BEG OF YOOHOOUUU!! M-MAAHAA, MAAHAHAAII ARMPIHIIITS, I CAAHAHAHAHAAANT..."
Methode giggled, her fingertips ceaselessly resuming their torturous dance through her master's pathetic wailing.
"Yes? What about your armpits?", she lovingly whispered. "Are they ticklish? Does this great mage have adorable little armpits that are just made for tickling?~"
"YEEEHEESS!!" Serie caved in immediately. "PLEEEHEEAASE AHAHAHAHAAAAH I NEEHEED AAAAH, AHA BRE-BREEEAAKHYAAHAHAH!!!"
What wicked magic made those hands to be so soft and feminine, yet so brutally merciless altogether? Their touch was warm and soothing like a midsummer breeze, caressing her sensitive body with endless affection that she had never felt before. And yet, they squeezed every last drop of delirious laughter out of her with machine-like effiency.
"PLEEHEASE AHAHAAHAOHOOH!!! JUST LEEHET MEEAAHAHAAH GYAAHAHAHAAAH!!! METHODE, AHAAHAH MEEEHEHERCY!!"
She threw her head back, cushioned by the First Class mage's voluptuous bosom, and howled at the ceiling. Sharp nails were painting unpredictable patterns in her creamy hollows, now ever so slightly starting to sweat from her frantic escape attempts, which allowed them to drift over the smooth surface even more easily. Her body was heating up, her bound hands opening and clenching in panic behind Methode's head.
"NAAAHAHAHAHTTHEHEHERE I EEEEK HAHAHA P-PLEHEHEHEEASE!!! I'LL GO INSAHAHANE HYAHAHAAAH!! NOOOOOHAHAHAT snort THERE-AAH WOAAHAHAAH!!! OHOOPLEHEEEHEASEAHAAHAA AHA-ARE YOU LISTENIHIING!!?"
Her legs were twitching involuntarily; her dainty feet, elegantly adorned with golden anklets were kicking the air. Her disorganized laughter and begging only serving to provide a tune for the scandalous scene.
Why? Why wasn't she stopping already? The sharp nails were absolutely eviscerating her supple pits, showing no sign of slowing down despite her surrender. If anything, they were picking up the pace - changing rhythm every few seconds, skittering up and down one armpit while wiggling deep into the other, keeping her drowning in frenzied, chaotic laughter as she was always caught off guard anew.
"MEHEEETHOHODE can't you HEHEEAHAR ME!!? I'M BEGGING!!! HYAAHAHAHAHAA OAHAHOHOOHOOO!!! I said it, I SAID IHIIIT AHYAHAAAA-HAHAAH!!!"
How irresistably adorable she was. How endlessly pleasant her silky skin, the warmth of her body jumping and twisting on her lap. How exhilarating her laughter, wild and unrestrained, gushing forth in a staccato of chaotic cackles that were so beautifully unsuitable for her petite figure. Just as tumultous and frantic as the assault her nails were carrying out on these little elfish pits, matching the intensity of her strokes and swishes, pokes and digs, rapid squeezes and deep scratches to the inhumanly soft and sensitive grooves.
"NAAAAH, AHAHAWAHAHAOOOH NO MOOOHOHOOORE!!! PFffaahAHAUUAHAHAAHA snort NOHOEEHEHEHEEE!!! Hmm-aaAHAAH, AHAHAHAHAAA...!!"
In a blissful trance, Methode's eyes followed the movements of her own fingers as they swished and danced along the girl's exposed underarms. This elysium of her fingers spinning, brushing and circling in those smooth hollows quenched a thirst she hadn't known before - possibly because they belonged to someone so distant and aloof as her master, who rarely showed so much as a smile.
Her gentle touch in those flawless, silken armpits - almost imperceptible movements of her nails stirring in the buttery smoothness - were all it took to make this proud, notoriously ill-tempered elf squeal like a kitten. The legendary Serie, so otherworldly powerful that she was rumored to be a goddess in some parts, was begging under tears to leave her poor, ticklish pits alone... it was too good to be true.
"PLEEEHEEHEEHEASE, METHOHOODEEE!!! PLEEHEHEHEHEHEAASE, AHAHAHAH RELEEEHEASE MEEHEHEE!!!"
But would a goddess allow herself to be seen in such an endearingly pathetic state? And furthermore... Methode's enraptured smile widened into a grin as one hand dropped, infiltrating the elf's thin blouse to squeeze her tender sides, while the other gleefully resumed its light, quick, incessant scratching. Would a goddess be defeated so easily? Not just with tickling, this childish torture that effortlessly brought her to hysterics, tossing herself around in the majestic throne that had become her prison.
No, it was their earlier duel that had the First Class mage in thought. Her right hand took the quaint route back up Serie's delicate upper body, probing the elf's trembling side, warm, smooth and stretched taut by the bondage. Her slender fingers pressed in between her master's ribs and wiggled around, and the eager student was delighted to hear the riotous cackles fade into silent laughter for a couple of sweet seconds.
"Now, Serie... I mean, Serie-sama" Methode corrected herself, while her tantalizing nails swirled under the legendary Serie's soft, merrily jiggling breasts. Amidst the frantic struggles, she could feel a discernible jolt as the elf's bare legs kicked upwards like those of a toy soldier.
"I am genuinely happy that you have come around to enjoy being petted so much..."
Somewhere in the storm of divine sensations, of buttery soft skin kissing her yearning fingertips, of deranged laughter and helpless screams for mercy serenading her mind, it occured to her that the elf's body was radiating enough heat to bring a family through the Northern winters. Her ears in particular were ammost sizzling hot, an adorable feature that Methode enjoyed all the more as they fluttered in excitement, flicking against her chin as she bowed down to her ticklish toy.
"But, I feel like something is amiss here. While I would never profess to be a grand duelist or anything... your behaviour during our little match..." While her left hand kept tirelessly exploring the depths of Serie's otherwordly sensitive armpit, the right concluded its adventurous journey under her tunic with feathery, precise strokes along the elf's nipples. To her joy, she found the tender buds rapidly stiffening in response, eagerly poking up against her wiggling fingers as if begging for more.
"...shall we say it peaked my interest? Oh my, is there anywhere you aren't ticklish, hehee~ Tickle tickle, these cute nipples aren't going anywhere~"
The warmth of Serie's breasts, resulting humiliated shrieks, and the fanfare of helpless screaming laughter as her right hand finally reunited with its sister in tormenting the smooth seductive hollows under Serie's arms - it was all too intoxicating. The woman's long, feminine fingers suddenly became a flurry as they sunk into these perfect, heavenly soft armpits, every single touch sending the defeated mage into a spasmic frenzy. Littering the flawless white skin with pink streaks like cherry petals, she clawed away at the tender grooves with reckless passion. She licked her lips before her teeth gently caught one of the elf's ears, putting an end to its excited twitching.
"HHYYYYAAAAHAHAHA-MEHEEAWAAHAH!! OWAAAHAHAHAA YOU, I'LL DO ANYEEEEAHAHAHA...!! HEEHEEYAHAAHEE, HELP MEEEEEEEEAHAAA...!!!"
"Now I could ask why mhmmm... you chose as cumbersome a method... as summoning fire..." the woman continued her interrogation, slightly muffled by the long, pointy and apparently, very ticklish ear in her mouth. She spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing in between words to flick her tongue over the edges, playfully biting and nibbling the rare elfish delicacy.
"Or I could ask why hnmm... even though your mana... should be completely sealed... lick... I still can't look into your mind..."
There was no audible response, or rather there was nothing that could have made it through the raging storm of laughter and incomprehensible begging. But for a split second, the petite frame cosying up against hers, letting her feel every jolt, every twitch of a muscle, every shudder of her hips - went completely limp in shock.
"That's right, Serie-sama... hmmmmh." Methode dragged her tickly tongue along the underside of her master's ear, nibbling her cute earlobe and licking up to the very tip. Her small captive howled in ticklish agony, the sweetest reward she could have asked for.
"I have to admit, you're playing the part very well - but it would have been wise to stop guarding your mind if you truly wanted to appear defenseless..."
"I WHAAAHHAAHAAGAHA, NOOHOHOOO WAHAHAIT THAT'S NOT - HYAAHYAAHYAHAAA!!!"
This girl was too easy. By now, Methode's exploring fingers knew every inch of those trembling sides like their own, the satin smooth skin their chosen new home. From her delicious pits down to her small, yet womanly hips, those wiggling curves and the tremor of her muscles told her everything she needed to know. The increase in panic as a pair of well placed fingertips vibrating between her lower ribs forbade her from answering was just too funny.
"GYAHAAHAA snort OHOHOHOUUHAAH!!! YOUHUUAAHAHA GOT IT ALL WROOHOAHAHAHAAAH... PLEHEEASE KYAAHAHAHAHA L-LET ME SPEAHEHEEE...!!"
In the silence that followed, the occasional clinking of her gold anklets against the seat and arm rests was the only sound as her naked legs thrashed about. Methode had found a deadly spot under her master's arms, relying only on her index fingers to apply devious pokes to the upper center of her hollows, right at the junction of her biceps and chest muscles.
"Don't worry, you can confide in me..." There was nothing particularly teasing in her tone as she casually, effortlessly dismantled the great Serie with two fingertips, one planted in each of her irresistable, wide open armpits. No mockery, only an almost motherly warmth.
"You love this, right?"
Methode dug a little deeper, probing inside the two treasure troves of heavenly softness and mind melting sensitivity that could only be found under an elf's arms. She smiled as she could feel her ticklish toy's heart racing in unwanted excitement, pounding against her fingertips.
"You can't move..." she whispered.
"You can't fight it..." Her breath tickled Serie's pointy ear, just before she kissed it.
"All you can do is... just take it." She kissed the other ear.
"There is noone except me and you, Serie-sama. Noone to expect decorum from you, or composure... or strength."
She realeased the elf from her forced silence as her fingers switched to an onslaught of cascasing ticklish strokes and wiggles, like a mad musician hitting the notes on the abnormally ticklish and dreadfully exposed body part. Quiet gasps of breathless desperation became helpless squeals, in a much higher and more girlish pitch than before.
"Right now, you're just a ticklish little girl." Methode smiled at the new, quite charming melody of mirth. "My cute, sensitive master... All blushing and giggling, and begging... just from my fingers under your arms, hmm? Isn't it riiiight here~?"
She poked the newly discovered weakspot again, careful not to get caught as the elf's head thrashed around in overwhelming, mindless hilarity.
"AARRRHAHAHAHAAAH, HYAAAHAHAHAA-AAH OHOOHOHO!!! OH PLEEHEHEASE, YES IT'S THEHEHAHAAH, KUUHUAAHAHAAA!!! NOMORENOMORENOMOOOHOHOORE!!! ANYHAHA, ANYTHIHIHIHIIING...!!"
"You don't have to deny it anymore..." the buxom woman swooned, drawing little heart shapes on her master's trembling pits. "You don't have to keep up the act. I... I have never seen you this happy before..."
A fountain of hysterical laughter erupted as, raptured by the moment, Methode took one of the elf's elegantly plaited braids and began wielding it like a paintbrush against the exposed, wide open armpit. The results were both instantaneous and devastating as the violent shaking of Serie's head sent the other braid flying - although it could have been the woman's lightning quick nails scribbling in the depth of her other, equally vulnerable hollow.
"NAAHAAH, OOH snort BAAHAHAHAAA!!! GODDESS AAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAHAOOH SAHAHAHAVE MEEEHEHEHEEE!!!"
"Serie-sama... I want you to be able to enjoy this moment to its fullest" Methode murmured, becoming increasingly aware of her own heat as her adored master was losing her mind, all thanks to a bit of her own hair spinning and brushing in her pits.
"Rest assured, I don't plan to stop~ However much you pretend to hate it, how profusely you keep begging..."
Serie's head whipped back, pushing into Methode's supple chest as the elf strained her neck with all her might to look up at her. Now it was the younger woman who let a gasp slip from her slightly parted lips, her hazel brown eyes widening in an unusual expression of surprise. So long had she been listening to her captive little mage's helpless squealing, her ever more riotous laughter and cackles and enjoyed her adorable attempts to free herself, all while feeling the petite, feminine figure and its delicious curves soothing her fingers and palms... that she almost forgot how long the two of them hadn't been face to face.
The elf's proud, almost noble features were twisted into something unrecognizable. Her once ivory skin was glowing hot pink, from her cutely flapping ears down to her graceful neck. Beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, the ancient mage's feverish blush betrayed a passion she hadn't felt in thousands of years. Her mouth twisted into an absurd grimace of laughter, wide open with shameless, overflowing mirth. Her eyes were swimming in tears, blurring the shimmering golden orbs that stared up at her - right into the woman's soul.
"AHAAAHAHO AAHAHALL DAAHAHAYYYY!! YOU MAHAY C-CARESS MY HEHEHEEEEEAADAHAHAHAAAH!!! HYAAAHAHAALL DAY LOOHOOONG!! I SWEHEAR I SWEEHEHEHEEARAHAHAAH, JU-JUHUST NO MORE AHAHAARMPIHITS PLEEHEHEHEEASE!!!"
The rest of Serie's attempts to bargain were swallowed by clumsy cackles, then coughing laughter, which finally faded into breathy giggles and panting. Methode blinked in stunned silence, looking quietly as a darker hue slowly spread over her own, already rosy cheeks. Her fingers had ceased their torturous play, lingering terribly close the legendary mage's perfect pits. Despite her exhaustion the elf kept flinching, her quite undignified giggles refusing to die down as every passing second held the threat of a renewed attack.
Instead, they were carefully brought up to her face. Resisting the urge to pet her head and stroke her silky hair immediately, the apprentice laughed as she wiped away the tears under her master's eyes, with the utmost tenderness, almost shyly.
"Oh, please, Serie-sama. You're still so committed to the act! Although your stubbornness is quite charming, hehe..."
Idly leaning against the throne, almost forgotten during her ticklish feast, the woman's wooden staff felt rough on her palms, spoiled by the lascivous softness of Serie's skin as she picked it up.
"Time to laugh again~"
Being blinded by her own tears was not something the greatest living mage was accustomed to. Neither were the beads of sweat rolling down her forehead and getting caught in her long eyelashes, or the burning of her muscles, the unimaginable exhaustion of screaming, struggling and fighting with everything she had, something the slothful elf loathed even without the embarrassment involved.
Under these circumstances, however, her hazy vision almost seemed like a small mercy granted to her. Feeling her rouge apprentice's fearsome nails dancing under her arms, devouring her utterly helpless pits as she stared into the empty throne room in wide eyed panic, unable to even look at her tormentor while being a slave to her own riotous laughter - it had been a nightmare in its own right. And yet, Serie wished she could return to that admittedly pathetic state.
"Do-HYAHAHAHAA NOOOO!!! Methode oooOOHOH, AHAHAHAAAH GO BAHAHACK!!! I'M BEGGING YOHOHOUU, go back toho MYYAAHAHAHAHA AHAARMPIHIITS AHAHAHA...!!"
Because for the past hour, or what seemed like it to the seriously dishevelled, hysterical elf in her giggling madness, the proud Serie had been forced to stare down at her own, naked feet.
"P-plehehease, HAHAHAHAAH PLEEASE!!! E-EAR LICKING TOOHOO!! AHAHOHOHONOOO, I'LL PERMIT AHAHYHAHA EVERYTHIHIIING!! YOU WIHIHIIIN!!!"
Despite taking immaculate care of them, and enjoying the feeling of grass or water swirling around her pampered soles so much that she went barefoot most of the time, Serie hadn't planned on ever getting this intimately acquainted with how her own feet looked. Specifically when they were bound, bare and helpless, so close yet infinitely far away from any help.
It wasn't that they were unpleasant to look at. Being indifferent towards the ephemeral beauty standards of humans didn't mean she was unaware of them - in the eyes of any man, her feet had to be considered beautiful. Their elegant shape, with supple white arches tastefully curved to accomodate curious fingers, smooth heels that shared the same innocent pink blush as the plushy ball, was something the kingdom's finest sculptors couldn't have done justice. Their small size, petite even by elf standards, made them irresistably adorable as they scrunched and wiggled, pristine toes with soft pads made for kissing showed impressive agility as they splayed and squirmed away from the tickling, making them even morr inviting targets.
No, it was simply that Serie hadn't know how brutally humiliating it would be to watch her weak, sensitive, pathetically ticklish feet get toyed with in such a ruthless manner. Juxtaposed with her pitiful squeals, her uproarious laughter between whimpering pleas for mercy, being forced to watch the step dance of nails over her smooth white skin drove her crazy with a new kind of anguish. Slow, meticulous circles around her cushiony heels had her gasping and moaning, tiny little scratches at the lower end of her pale arches caused gales of laughter. Tracing the cute dimples and creases that formed when she scrunched her soles made her snort and wheeze like a horse, and when Methode discovered how scandalously soft the pads of her big toes were, Serie had called herself her "ticklish little elf" for the first time.
Methode was torturing her. The lovestruck woman, erroneously believing that she was still somehow in control of her magic, that she could have put an end to this whenever she so desired, didn't show an ounce of mercy to her poor feet. Their absurd ticklishness only seemed to spur her on, every swish and stroke of her nails full of intent to drive only the most gut-wrenching laughter out of her squirming captive. The thought that she herself, Serie, would naturally be resistent to elementary psychic spells didn't seem to enter her mind, and she didn't give her a chance to explain it either.
"NAAHAHAAaaha... snort ...ooHOHOAHAAHAH HELP AHAAIIEEE CAHAN'T UUHYAAHAHAHAAH...!! METHOHOHODE let meHEEHEEAAHAHAA!!!"
"You sound quite adorable when you're having fun, oh Great Serie" Methode cooed, a repartee that would have been flirtatious even without all her fingers buried in the divine smoothness of elfish soles.
"Oooh you like it here? Right under the ball of your cute foot? Hehee, I'll make sure to remember that~"
Her position itself added to the mortifying mix, as Serie had been bound in a way she could only describe as insulting. The wild kicking and flailing to keep those far too nimble fingers away from her bare soles at all costs had invoked the wrath of more magical snakes, uncoiling and rising up from her throne with a lazily muttered spell. The slithering bands of silver had caught her ankles, a game Methode enjoyed far more than suitable, and with gentle might tied them together in a cross-legged position. With the soles of her now trapped feet facing upwards, prepped for easy access, her softly squirming toes remained the only part that wasn't fully immobilized.
"And here? Is the middle of the arch weak too? How about just one finger...? Haha, what a cute noise! I think I'll use all ten~"
Resting upon her own milky thighs as if placed on a cushion, which had the side effect of further restricting their movement, her perfect feet were displayed like exhibition pieces. As if to mock the elf for her arrogant carefreeness, for daring to show off these dainty feet without a thought in the world. Now she felt for the first time just how vulnerable they were, begging to be touched with nothing but her golden anklets as decoration. The upturned bare soles were staring at her almost accusingly in her tickle hazed mind as they slowly turned pink under the nails scratching away.
"M-MY MAAAHAHAGIHIIC WOAAHAHAAHAA, HMmmnnohooOHOHOHOO!!! IT WOHON'T AHAHAAAAH...!!"
Further snakes awakened by her disciple's magic coiled around her knees amd tied them to the armrests, spreading her legs further and ensuring that not the slightest bit of struggling would disturb the torment. The pose was known as the lotus seat, Methode had her informed, not that this piece of trivia helped lessen her sorrows. The woman's knowing fingers lit up every nerve in each foot, gently but with frightening intent behind their skillful movements. Sinking into the buttery skin, they left behind a firework of bright hot ticklishness on her creamy arches, fluttered along her graceful insteps only to pinch and goose the tender balls of her feet in the next moment. Only able to watch this mayhem on her defenseless soles, the helplessly tied up mage entered unseen heights of panic as her upper body shook and twisted as if possessed, bound hands uselessly straining against their cuffs.
"My my, I don't think I've ever tickled a girl as sensitive as you before... and there were a few~"
Serie howled as she felt the sensations intensify, seeping deeper into her sleek, supple arches with every word warmly whispered into her sensitive ears.
"I wonder if this is common with elfs? Hmmm... if that is the case, I would just die to play with Frieren-san as well~ Her apathetic look is quite charming, don't you think? What do you say, Serie-sama, won't you please introduce us...?"
The ridiculousness of her request didn't stop Serie from frantically nodding her head between delirious laughter. She was so overwhelmed, so utterly desperate to have it stop, there was no wish or demand she wouldn't have fulfilled her apprentice in a heartbeat. As seconds turned into minutes and the female fingers caressed every inch of her graceful arches, played with the tiny wrinkles and shamelessly explored the intimate softness between her toes, there were many such concessions the elf made amidst panicking laughter.
Of course she would introduce her to Frieren. Yes, her apprentice with the cute barrette too. No, she had no idea if the two of them enjoyed head pats, but she would make sure they agreed. She offered the woman to pet her own head as much as she liked, every day of the week, to play around with her ears, to kiss them even. She offered gold and jewelry, and after the woman's disinterest became apparent by a particularly mean flurry of fingers raining down upon her plush, trembling soles, she apologized under tears. And when Methode, with almost casual cruelty, asked her about a certain spell that had slipped her mind - "The one that removes all fatigue and heightens your senses, you know? Edel almost fainted from it, poor girl... You've got to remember it, right? Right, ticklish Grimoire~?" - all it took was her nails teasingly scratching under her soft, bubbly toes to make her splutter out an answer.
"Oh, right! How kind of you, Serie-sama. I'm much obliged... Zaphondrel!"
If she thought her armpits were her worst spot before, the fingertips pressing into the pliant, velvety smooth skin of her soles cleared this misconception. Methode's earlier fondling and massaging had lulled her into a false sense of security, believing that the playful caresses were the worst her delicate feet would have to face - maddening, almost unbearable, but not enough to break her.
"PLEEHEEHEEEAASE NO MOHORE, NO MORE TIHICKLES OHOHOAHAOHOOH!!! GRRRAHAHAHA plehease, grhnnaAHH-AHAAAHAHA, NOHO WAAHAIT, HEEEHEYAHAHAHAHAA I'M BEGGING YOU...!!"
She had been wrong. Another regrettable miscalculation on her part that now came back to bite her - that her feet, unused to any kind of touch and magically pampered to degrees of softness unattainable by human means, could be anything but disturbingly ticklish.
"AHANEEEHEYAAHAHAAEEEE OWAAAHAAHAAH!!! I KNOHOHOW I SAHAHAAID A-ANYWHERE EHEHELSE BUT AAHAHAAH!! NOT ON THE FEEEHEHEHEEET!! JUST NOHOT MY FEEHEET, AAHAIM SORREEHEEHEEE!!!"
She felt a new form of horror approaching as a warm, pleasant breath caressed her ears.
"NO, NO NOOOHOHO DON'T DO THAT THIHIHIIING...!!"
"Aaaw, tickle tickle..." came the doting teases that sent shivers throughout her body, caused her appetizing little toes to curl, set her nerves ablaze almost as badly as the sensitivity spell had just minutes earlier.
"I like how you keep begging, Serie-sama... it makes this whole thing so forbidden, despite you loving it this much~"
The nails capriciously twirling across the squishy balls of her feet began to lightly tickle her unruly toes, causing the sensitive digits to splay wide open immediately. Combined with the panic of her magically sensitized feet tingling madly just from being exposed to the air, the elf descended into gasps and silent laughter.
"Good girl, open wide... Now how about some tickles for these pretty toes, hmm? Tickle tiiiickle~"
She had never felt so helpless. Never felt so disrespected, yet devoutly admired at the same time. For someone as ticklish as her, so awfully weak against those tender touches that humans would exchange without thinking much of it, being tied up while tickled was the closest thing to hell she could imagine.
The hot tears rolling down her cheeks were proof of her suffering. Her pathetic pleas, glossed over by Methode as some sort of coquettish play, were genuine. The embarrassment of being forced into ever new spirals of tortured howling and ticklish despair, all while being told she loved it, was so overwhelming it hurt.
Yet, what had to be the worst of all, without a single doubt in her mind was - it was the truth.
She loved it. She needed it, the gentle yet dexterous fingers having their way with her soft feet, bare and defenseless, their pure white arches a willing sacrifice to the swarm of merciless nails descending upon them.
Every scratch and scribble over the tender, untouched skin sent shivers down her back that she wanted to ignore, but couldn't even in her babbling hysteria. Every well placed stroke made her shudder in ecstasy, drowning her in ticklish agony while having her secretly begging for more.
The second each of those loving nails had finished its course over her trembling soles, left the buttery smooth skin tingling with sparks of tickling bliss and cutely blushing from the attention, Serie was already yearning for the next one. And the next one always came.
Each one held a personal message for her. A message from student to master, from the hopelessly enamored woman who kept her hands dancing tirelessly over her naked feet, to herself - a quivering, cackling, adorably shrieking mess of an elf.
"YOHOOUREEAHAHA DEHEEMOHOHON!! GUAHAHAAHAAA snort BAAHAHAHAHAA!!! PLEEEHEHEEASE I GAVE YOUHUU EEHEHEVERYTHIIHIHING!!!"
She was Methode's toy. Utterly powerless, at her mercy with every fiber of her being. There was nothing she could do to stop her hands from ravaging her bare skin, squeezing the most ridiculous and humiliating sounds out of her that she would have rather died than let anyone hear. From exploring her taut body however she desired, down to its most sensitive amd secret spots, and having her squeal from every touch.
"...ANYTHING!!! MMMNNNHAHAHAHA A-ANYTHIHIING BUT NOHOOMOHOHOOHORE TIHICKLING!!! METHOOHODEE I, I IMPLOHORE YOUHUHUU IIAAHAHAHAHAA!!! I'M YOUR..."
There was nothing she could do but laugh, so there was nothing she had to worry about.
Saving face was impossible at this point as she happily thrashed about while begging for a break, wishing it would never come. She was her plaything, and she never wanted to be anything else. She was her...
"...That's right, Serie-sama~" Methode leaned closer while drawing circles on her creamy arches, flaxen blonde strands of hair tickled her collarbone.
"You're my ticklish little elf~"
Having a wide open, perfectly exposed pair of elf pits so close to her face without touching them would have been asking the impossible - under normal circumstances. However, Methode found herself bravely resisting their spell or perhaps, being to caught up in the moment to go for the delectable treat - because nothing about this was normal. Her high cheek nuzzled against Serie-sama's small head, whose silky hair felt so soothing under her touch, but could not even begin to compete with the wealth of lush skin all over her master's luxuriously pampered body. The lavish softness of her petite, elegant feet, under her slinky toes, on the sides of her slender neck and underneath her top. There was so much to play with despite her handy size, a feature Methode absolutely adored as she felt the girl's frantic twisting and squirming on her lap.
In the first place, weren't those feet just so very dear? Methode recalled that Second Class mage Edel's had been quite beautiful as well. A shapely, slightly wide pair of size 8's that turned out to be wonderfully sensitive, especially once they had all toes tied back and were glistening with oil.
But how could they hope to compete with these utterly irresistable, unbearably cute elf feet that tried their hardest to wiggle and flap, to escape the loving torment, and only managed to entice her more in the process? The dinky wrinkles appearing in her arches, softer than velvet, they were an admission of defeat and an invitation to play both at once. Her attractive toes, with cute bubbly pads despite being rather slender, could barely even wiggle anymore, only weakly scrunch to protect themselves from the very worst: A teasing nail worming between those supple digits, which always caused her to buck her hips in all sorts of directions.
"Now, I think you really liked it when I did this before..."
"OWOAHAHAHA HEY NOOOHOHOOO!! D-DONT PUHUSH MY TOHOHOHOOES BAHACK, METHODE NOOHOHOT THIS MmmmnNAAAHAHAAAH!!!"
What size were they even?, Methode mused as she did exactly that, placing her hand over the toes of one foot, drawing the sole taut and began to tickle the now perfectly smooth and helpless arch with her other. A two, maybe? One? Either way, they were obviously made to fit under the span of her fingers, irresistably twitching and hypnotizing in their naked beauty. She felt the desperately squirming toes pushing up against her palm, begging to be let go.
"OOH GODDEEHEHESS HAAHAHAHAA NOT MY POOHOOR FEHEHEHEEET!!! OOOOHMMM PLEHEASE I'M SOHO TIHIHICKLISH THEEEHEHEREE!! GYAHAAHA...!!!"
The woman's lips twisted into a slightly impish smile as her teasing fingers sped up. She wondered if her master, overwhelmed by tickling and ecstasy as she was, even noticed that her small moans had been getting louder and longer for a while now.
What finally moved Methode to abandon those lovely little feet were not the elf's begging, or promises of putting them in her lap every day if she would only stop for now - although she still graciously accepted that last offer. No, the real motivator had been discovering how absurdly sensitive the elf's legs were. Mostly naked thanks to her rather casual shorts, Serie's milky thighs had been serving their purpose as a cushion for her feet reliably. But once a few fingers went astray, venturing from crawling over her blushing tender soles on to the alabaster white, luscious skin of her exposed upper legs, it became clear that this alone would have been a waste of their qualities.
"OOHOOAAHAHAH, WOOHOHOO!!! W-WAWAWAAHAHAIT, EEHEEHYAHAAA TH-THAHAHAT'S TOO FAAHAHAHAHAAR!!!"
The wailing she got from her little toy was sublime. The tender ticklishness of Serie's thighs, plump and squishy like rice pudding, felt heavenly. The blonde let out a hearty chuckle, questioning why she hadn't come around to do this sooner.
"My! It seems someone is sensitive here as well~" she teased in a childish manner, abandoning the light fluttering of nails and wiggling her fingers into the lascivous softness with evil intent. "Are you really just helplessly ticklish all over~? Or do I just keep finding all the good spots by chance..."
The elf's babbling reply was incomprehensible, even to Methode, who had grown quite practiced at discerning her master's frantic pleading through her laughter. Caught in fits of mindless hilarity, the teary eyed mage struggled harder than ever, bucking her hips and desperately trying to close her legs, which were kept wide open and still for her probing fingers.
"I'll take that as a yes, then?" Playfully groping her smooth, malleable thighs seemed to work wonders, as she could feel the muscles twitch and tremble under the soft tissue. "Really, you're leaving yourself so exposed with this attire... you can't really blame me for this, right? Laugh for me my cute elf, tickle tickle tickle~"
There was no technique she tried on those beautiful, bare legs that didn't have her master in frenzied howling. The gales of desperate laughter spilled from her lips, wild and uncontrollable, no matter where on these silky smooth limbs she touched. The buttery skin yielded to her touch, offering not the slightest bit of resistance even when no pressure was applied. She felt goosebumps form under her fingertips as she lazily traced her nails across the luxurious surface, following the enticing curve of her thigh inwards, which seemed to mortify the elf just as much as it tickled her.
"OHSHEEHEAHA OOHOohmmmm, HOLDOHOHOON AAHAHAHAHAAH!! JUHUST PET MEEHEHEHEE ALREHEADY UUWAAHAHAHA, NOOOHO TIHIHICKLES!!"
It was as if her legs were created for the sole purpose of being tickled. Fully exploiting the wealth of ticklish nerves, Methode teasingly kneaded and pinched the sensitive flesh, feeling her fingers sink into the pliant skin like warm butter. Even lightly dragging them across the sleek surface created small grooves trailing her fingers, an adorable display that prompted her to repeat the action a couple dozen times.
"HAHAHAHAHA!!! O-AHAHAHA EEEHEEHELP MEEHEE!! SOMEOHOHONE, AHAHA S-STOP HER mmmMNAAHAHAHAAH...!!"
Slow, insistent pokes had her giggling out of breath, rapid squeezes along the insides of her tender thighs had her cackling maniacally. Adventurous fingernails grazing the undersides of her naked legs made the tiny mage scream in delight, and when Methode finally grabbed a handful each of the innermost part of her delicious thighs, right where the protection of her rather skimpy shorts ended, and began squeezing the quivering muscles, she was met by the most blissful wave of suffering laughter she had ever heard.
"Ah-aah, no escaping..." Methode admonished, not stopping her shameless abuse of Serie's otherworldy sensitivity inner thighs for a moment.
"If you buck your hips so much, I can't tickle you properly, Serie-sama~"
Another one of the magically animated snakes went over her lower belly, strapping her in for the ride as any and all movements of her hips were now impossible.
"That's better, isn't it? Now you can really focus on the sensations..."
The enamored gleam in her eyes became fiery as her thumb and index finger singled out the elf's thigh tendon, a sweet spot of exquisite ticklishness even among all the other fun spots. Slowly building up speed, she began the assault of light, incessant pinches on this delicate part and felt a violent jolt though Serie's petite frame.
"Isn't it just sooo ticklish here, Serie-sama~? Poor little elf, all trapped with nowhere to go~"
Aah yes, there it was again. The adorable view of long elfish ears twitching with excitement, on cue with her teasing. Quietly licking her lips, the apprentice decided to spoil her master some more.
"You can't move at all, can you? The great Serie, bound and helpless... I bet you wish you could close your legs right now, don't you~"
"SH-SHUHUHUU-SHUHUT UHUHUP AHAHAHAOOOH!!! OHHMMMNNAAHAHAHAHAHA, PLEHEHEASE...!!"
Serie's ears were scarlet red, now flapping wildly as if to applaud.
"And look where my hands are..." the woman cooed sweetly, unable to resist as her fingers glided inwards along the smooth, ticklish tendons on the inside of her master's legs, even dipping underneath the fabric of her shorts.
"Right between your legs... how does it feel, oh Living Grimoire? Isn't it embarrassing~?"
Her teasing did not provoke the expected answer however as Serie exploded with a firework of laughter and shrieks, surprising even Methode.
"HYYAHAHAHAHAA!!! AUUUGH IT TIIIHICKLES AHAHAHAH IT TICKLESAHAHA LIKE HEEEHEHHEHEHELL!! NOHO PINCHING AHAHAHAOHOH, DOHON'T MOOHOHOVE YOUR FIHINGERS AHAHYAAAAH!!!"
The squeezing stopped, leaving her gasping for air.
"HAHAahaha... Methode, this ahaha... t-this is enohough..."
The tips of her pointy ears were glowing bright red, but even they couldn't match the heat rushing to Methode's face as she heard the elf's last pleading words.
"Haah, please... come ohon, please give me a break noohoHOW!! METHODE!!"
Two silver snakes wormed under the hem of her shorts. Not wearing a belt, the lifeless creatures were able to invade the thin garment with no resistance, and Serie felt the cool touch of metal slithering along the most intimate and tender part of her legs as they went downwards.
"OHOOH!? Ohohohowaahahaiit NO...!!"
"It tickles... there?" The buxom apprentice muttered between heavy breaths, her ample bosom heaving now.
"Now I'm curious... Are there any more ticklish spots you're hiding from me...?"
The ropes of silver emerged from the legs of her shorts, gripping the fabric tightly. Methode felt a twinge of regret that she couldn't see her masters face, but it was wiped away by the mortified shriek as her intent became clear to the elf.
"No, noo!! I don't...! M-Methode, let us end this here. Please, you've had your f-fun... I won't ever tell anyone about this... please...?"
"Of course you won't" her disciple let out a delighted giggle. "It would be quite awkward, I imagine..."
Serie swallowed nervously. Her ears were practically vibrating right now, Methode could feel her tied hands twisting in anticipation. Heavens, she could practically hear the wheels turning in the elf's little head. Was it really that ticklish down there? She had to know, and if it was the last thing she did... which it might very well be.
"Woman...! I m-mean... Methode. By everything that's holy to you..." the mage began, stumbling over her words. The stretching noise of strained fabric was deafening in the brief silence.
"So dramatic... Relax, I'm only going to uncover the rest of these pretty legs~" Methode chirped excitedly. Her fingers went back to work softly fluttering across the supple skin right at the hem of her shorts, as if to tease that this line of defense was about to be breached.
"And besides... I've been wondering what color of panties the legendary Serie is wearing~"
"HUUH?? AHAaahaha noo, eheeheeek!! YouaAHAHA dohon't understand...!!"
One after the other, linen garment's threads could be heard popping, as the snakes began pulling and the fabric came apart.
"Methode, PLEASE!!!"
Riiiiip!
The reason for her despair became apparent as soon as the snakes had torn her shorts to shreds, leaving her exposed to any and all ticklish exploration from the waist down. Methode was jubilant, already imagining her nails tracing the elf's lavish thighs down to previously unexplored depths, pinching and tickling around the sure-to-be-sensitive area right below her smallclothes... Leaning forward, the blonde woman cast down a shameless glance over her captive's shoulders, filled with burning curiosity of what an elf's panties would look like, and saw...
"Oh..."
Nothing. Not the tiniest bit of fabric remained to cover the Great Serie's most sacred place, the most beautiful and tender part of her body that no man could have ever dreamed to lay eyes on.
"Oooh my~"
The woman was spellbound, unable to look away from what she felt was a sight forbidden to mortals. She'd had no intention of fully stripping her master, but now that it had come to pass... she found it impossible not to feast her eyes on her nakedness.
"Serie-sama... you cheeky girl~"
Serie had the cutest, most perfect pussy she had ever seen. Completely smooth and hairless, its wonderful sleekness made it look even more exposed, granting an unimpeded view over every nook and cranny. It looked unbearably tender, and Methode felt her fingers itch with the need to feel the creamy, velvety skin. The faintest touch of wetness glistening on her soft lips. Her tight slit, drawing a gorgeous parting line between them.
"Y-you MORON!" Serie yelped, her voice thin and unsteady with embarrassment. Slowly regaining the rest of her senses, Methode could feel her little heart pounding wildly.
"I... I told you not to...!!"
"My bad" the scolded apprentice said sheepishly, but she was unable to wipe the smile off her face. "I didn't mean to..."
A giggle interrupted her apology.
"But really... who could have guessed that the Great Serie was going commando?"
"Uuugh!" the elf groaned, flustered beyond belief. "Stop calling me that...!"
Although her master's adorable huffing was something she couldn't get enough of, Methode only half listened as her gaze stayed transfixed on the appetizing little snatch under her eyes. With her waist strapped down and her legs spread wide apart, there was nothing the humiliated elf could do to hide it. The stretch ever so slightly forcing her rosy lips to splay apart, as if winking at her.
The First Class mage felt like she was under one of her own hypnosis spells. Serie's bare womanhood, something so unthinkable and forbidden... it just sat there, almost shyly between her legs. Small, like the rest of her body. And all too vulnerable.
Her cheeks formed into a grin, uncharacteristic for the usually poised woman. Surely this pussy had never been tickled before, right?
"This... this..." the elf was visibly fighting for words. Her apparent despair had given way to meek exasperation, as she inconspicuously shifted and tried to close her thighs.
"This is... you lunatic! Are... are you satisfied now? You've humiliated me..."
"Satisfied?" Methode inquired cluelessly, brushing loose strands of hair from her master's sweat and tear soaked face.
"Why, what gave you the idea that our little rendezvous was over?"
Serie gasped, turning her head to look up at her in shock.
"What?! But I... no, y-you don't mean...!"
"I do~" Methode whispered, watching the golden eyes widen in fear, disbelief and thrilled anticipation. She really was a poor actor. "I think I haven't played enough with my ticklish toy yet..."
Her fingers came alive, and immediately the elf's intense glare became an adorable mask of suppressed laughter, as she squinted her eyes and snorted.
"Hhnngh... n-noho-hohoo... Don't you dare!! AAHYEEEH!!" she squealed, the unstoppable fingers gliding across her supple thighs breaching her defenses effortlessly.
"Methode, I will really kill you this time!"
"I doubt it" came the rather nonchalant answer. "I think you want this even more than I do..."
"I don't! I haahahate being tiiihickled! Ahahahahaa!"
The disrobed little mage was pushing herself into her, trying to raise herself by her tied hands as if attempting a pull-up, anything to get away from the wiggling nails closing in on her most private spot. But no matter what she did, her butt remained seated on the younger woman's lap, her legs and feet remained bound in the snake's tight embrace, and her bare pussy stayed perfectly still. The sense of total helplessness seemed to it, briefly overshadowing even her obvious excitement.
"WAAAHAHAIIT!!" she squealed, almost whining as the smooth creases between her thighs and groin became acquanited with lightly scribbling nails.
"AHAAOOH Methoohohode! Plehease AAHAHAAH not like this!!"
She shook her head frantically, whether to emphasize her refusal or because the titillating fingers between her legs didn't leave her a choice - Methode couldn't tell.
"Please, dohon't tickle me while I'm naked!!"
"Oooh yeees~" the apprentice taunted. "Tied up, and naked... just the right way for a ticklish little elf~"
Had she known just how bad it would be, Serie would have thought twice about taking it easy on her disciple during their duel. She started to regret it now, feeling her tummy ache and her lungs burn from laughter. Uncontrollable, ear-piercing howls, wails of defeat she had never thought would leave her mouth. Stammering pleas and admissions of defeat that she wished would have never crossed her lips. And still, she kept debasing herself further and begging for mercy, because she simply couldn't take it.
Her pussy was so ticklish. Something she wouldn't ever have imagined, not that the question would have entered her mind in the first place. But here she was, forced to learn about this weakness the hard way, and it had to be at this woman's hands.
"HYYAAHAHAHA, AHAYEHEHEEE AHA HEHELP, M-METHOHODE AHAA-HAHAHAAAH!!! YOU'RE KIHILLING MEEEE!!!"
This woman who knew her body so well, much better than herself. She was toying with her, playing her like an instrument, forcing her to dance like a puppet on strings just by lightly, tirelessly, teasingly tickling her pussy. Her skillful feminine fingers showered the poor tender thing with gentle strokes of her nails, barely more than grazing the soft skin. But in her hyper sensitive state, receptive to her disciple's every tough, every word, she could not resist a single one of them.
"I'M AAHAHAHAHA Y-YOOHOUR TIHICKLISH ELF, I'M YOUR TIIIHIHICKILISH EHEELF!! PLEHEASE I'M BEGGING YOUHUUU!!!"
The tingling, fuzzy heat in her lower belly, raging like a wildfire ever since Methode's manicured nails had descended on her lower lips, it grew almost painful when she felt the familiar warm voice caress her ears.
"Coochie coochie coooo~" Methode sung a silly childish tune. "My ticklish little elf has a ticklish little pussy~"
She doubled over in laughter, consumed by shame and raging desire. It tickled so bad. The tiny, prickly scribbles and strokes over her otherwordly sensitive lips. The loving, yet toturous swirls of her nails over her smooth mound. The spikes of mind melting sensations when one of her fingers lightly flicked her ticklish slit, grazing her pink petals. She wanted to close her legs so badly, more than anything in the world. She wanted her dignity back, her unwavering poise, the blissful ignorance about how desperately sensitive she was - and leave this nightmare where she was powerless, pant-less, this insane woman's squealing, begging tickle toy.
So she thought, or at least, one part of her brain did. But the other part, in her delirious arousal, knew perfectly well that she didn't want the tickling to end. She would be anything Methode wanted her to be.
But then again, regardless of what she felt right now, could she even allow herself such twisted thoughts? Could she let herself, Serie, slowly turn more and more submissive at her disciple's hands, with no regard for her position? Were those deranged illusions not a sign that she was already too far gone, that she had to put an end to this immediately?
"Perhaps we can do this after the headpats, from now on? What do you say, Serie-sama? Will you let me tickle your cute pussy, whenever I ask for it~?"
The wise thing, of course, would be to kill her. But how could she, when the foreseeable future promised to hold so many more of these precious moments?
No. She needed to escape, to get away from this woman, away from the city. The solitude of the Northern mountains where she could think clearly, forget everything about this day, from her crushing humiliation to the intense desire and joy she derived from it. Once she had gotten her thoughts in order, once she understood who she was and what she wanted again, she could make a decision. She needed to be alone with herself. Just for a couple of years...
"METHOOHOHODE HAVE MEHERCYYY!! PLEEHEHEEASE MMMNNOOHOHOHOO!!!"
But for now, this was fine. This moment belonged to the two of them. Noone else would ever witness her in this sorry state, so noone would judge her. Serie leaned back, sinking into the embrace of the woman whose soft fingers were buried deep in her ticklish nethers, closed her eyes and laughed freely.
"I BEG YOUUU!!! KYAAAHHAHAAHA!!! I'LL LET YOUUAAHAHAHA TICKLE MY PUSSY!! WHEHENEVER YOU WAAAHAHAHANT!!!"
So joyous was her laughter, that she didn't hear the creaking of the heavy wooden door that Methode had closed, but not locked behind her. It was only the sharp, bright shattering of fine porcelain on the floor, followed by the tinkle of countless shards scattering across the polished marble, that awoke the two of them from their trance.
Sense stood in the door, motionless like a statue. Her face, small and white between her abundant mane of lush gray hair, was a mask of pure shock. Unable to even blink, her deep eyes full of confusion, the girl was still holding a kettle in her right hand, from which hot tea slowly poured onto the ground.
"Uh... ummm... S-Serie-s-s-ama..."
Serie only stared at her, equally petrified. A single tear of laughter rolled down her cheek. Her naked, clearly visible pussy was pulsating with need.
"You... y-your..." Sense stuttered, a lovely blush creeping up her neck.
"...a... afternoon tea...?"
Serie made an attempt to speak, but Methode was quicker, putting a hand over her mouth. The other extended towards their uninvited guest, waving a finger in a friendly come-hither motion.
"Sense-san! Just at the right time" she greeted the stunned woman as if they had met in the library, her calm voice as soothing as ever.
"Would you like to join us?"
For more ticklish adventures, check my DA gallery: https://www.deviantart.com/justsome...ride-Part-2-Frieren-tickling-story-1017300372
