hopefulscrambl
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Mar 17, 2020
- Messages
- 131
- Points
- 43
Georgie struggles against her bonds and sighs.
“Oh great, we're doing this again. Let me guess? Another feet in stocks story?”
Georgie looks around the dungeon that she had found herself, chains clanking from the walls and a Judas Cross taking up the bulk of the chamber. A single black door was the only exit, and candle light flickered over the dark room.
Then she looks down at herself. Her short body was in nothing but a bra and panties, her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. Her feet are trapped in a pair of thick wooden stocks, and her arms are firmly held over her head with long chains.
She rolls her eyes as she wiggles her toes against the hard wood.
“Course it is. Just bare feet and stocks, like ten million other tickle stories. Don’t even have a reason I ended up here. What, ‘someone kidnapped her’ was beyond your creative skills? At least my toes aren’t tied, so there’s some…”
The door opens, and a figure walks in. A man wearing a black mask, tall and muscular, begins tying her toes to the stocks.
“And there we go. Who’s this guy, huh? Come on, tell me about your deep inner life and complex motivations! I bet the author put a lot of thought into you and you’re definitely not just a glorified tickle tool!”
As she expected, the man ignores her pleas and instead silently takes out a bottle of lotion. Pushing out a small portion, he starts rubbing it over her feet. She shudders slightly at the cold and the sensitive touch, but still manages a snort.
“What do you mean ‘pleas’? How were those pleas? You really are committed to being by the numbers the whole way, huh? Can’t even...eep!”
Georgie squeals as a finger ran down her foot, a burst of sensation shooting up her leg. She tried to jerk away, but even if they’re maybe not the most unique form of bondage an amateur writer can come up with on short notice, the stocks certainly kept her from escaping. Still, she tires to keep up a brave face even as the tickling intensifies and keeping her laughter out of her voice becomes impossible.
“N..eep! No plohot! Haha! No nahaharrative! Just ahaha just a transparent exchuhuse to put your hands in your…”
The man is now tickling open, her feet wiggling away as the electric sensations overwhelm them. Her hair is loose and her glasses are askew as the tickling quickly reached unprecedented levels. Her body begins to shake as she frantically tries to jerk her feet back through the stocks, to no avail. She's stuck here for good.
“Ahahaha! Electric ahahaha sensations? Everyone says electric sensations!! Hey! Stop! Ahaha! This is..ahaha!”
The man silently reaches down for a hairbrush and starts raking it over the soles of Georgie’s bare feet. Her head flings back as a new storm of tickling hits her. She almost manages to lurch forwards, but the tight chains stop her. She cackles, laughing hysterically as the tickling quickly becomes unbearable, her soft and horribly sensitive soles aflame with the sensation. The man shows no mercy, attacking her feet ruthlessly no matter how loudly she screams.
“No! Ahahaha! Fuck, fuck! Stop it! Stop tickling! Where ahahaha even is this dungeon? We’ve got lohotion but also candles for lighting? Ahahah! What time period is this eheheven set? Why…”
Abruptly, her inability to recognise my creative genius is cut short by new fingers attacking Georgie from behind, running down her hideously ticklish underarms. Her instinctive attempts to jerk her arms down fail, the rattling chains mocking her helplessness, as she sees that a woman had walked in behind her, adding a brutal attack on her defenceless upper body to the continued torture of her bare feet.
“Ahahaha noo! Whahaha? Walked in from ahahaha where? Ohohohono! You established ahahaha there was only one door! You’re ehehehe just ignoring your worldbuilding to hahahave another tickler appear to...”
OK, you want to play it like that? Fine. There’s now six ticklers, and they all have dozens of tools and... and magical tickle enhancing powers. How do you like that?
Georgie spasms, her body shaking as the tickle attack intensified. Now there’s someone working on each spot. An electric brush is plunged into her belly button as other brushes move over her armpits, while her toes and her ribs suffer probing fingers one by one She howls with laughter, face bright red, glasses long ago fallen to the floor. She sobs and struggles, but there’s nowhere that she can go. All she can do is sit there and suffer the unrelenting tickling.
Unless maybe she has something to say about the situation?
“AHAHAHA OH GOD! OKAHAHAHY! THIHIHIS IS THE MOST ORIGINAL HAHAHA STORY EVER WRITTEN! OHOHOHO GOD! YOU’RE THE NEHEHEHEXT SHAKESPEARE! AHAHAHA! JUST STOP!”
Aww, thanks!
Alas, despite her sincere acknowledgement of one of the greatest fetish writers of our generation, the tickling continues without mercy. Her arms are shaking as her armpits are constantly attacked, her belly is shivering as fingers dive into her belly button, her feet are covered in horribly ticklish brushes. Her toes struggle against the ties and her arms struggle against the chains, but there’s no way out.
Her laughter gets more hysterical, ragged at the edges, as the torture keeps going. Her face contorts with laughter as she struggles against each and every tickling touch running over her exposed body.
“EHEHEHEHEHE! FINE! YOU KNOHOHOHOW WHAT? I TAKE IT BACK! AHAHAHAHA! THIS OHOHOHONO IS STILL GARBAGE! AHAHAHA FUCK! EVEN MY BEHEHEHEGGING IS CLICHÉ! AHAHAHA! YOU’RE A HACK! NAAAH! YOU HEAR ME! A HAHAHAHACK!”
Oh hey, look at that. Another ten ticklers just entered the room. What are the odds of that?
Now that there are ticklers for every possible spot, Georgie’s completely overwhelmed. There are fingers running over soles and ankles, behind knees, down ribs, across bellies and into armpits. Even the neck and back aren’t spared an assault. Every part of her body is hypersensitive and overwhelmed with tickling, and her mind is fully consumed by it. Poor girl
Tears stream down her face, her body shakes constantly, her struggles both frantic and completely impotent. All she can do is struggle through the unrelenting, mind-shattering tickling.
Hmm. I wonder if she has any cutting comments to make?
“AHAHAHANAHAHANOHOHOAHAHANOHOHAHAHAHPLAHAHAARRGGHH”
Glad to hear it!
As the ticklers keep working over her, never once stopping in their ruthless attack, Georgie’s laughter gets ever more intense, quickly mixing with squeals and yelps of panic. Through all this the tickling didn’t stop once, the ticklers never showing signs of getting tired or bored for extremely creative reasons that I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on.
Finally, she begins to feel woozy, the tickling finally pushing her well over her limits. She begins to feel a sense of hazy numbness creep into the edges of the unrelenting ticklish sensations, slowly pulling her from consciousness.
“I...ahaha...don’t think...ahaha… that’s how that works…”
And then she passes out.
Georgie wakes up in a bikini, buried with only her head and feet sticking out. She sighs as the other three girls there moved for her bare feet.
“Oh come on! A buried in the sand beach scene next? Can you do anything except cliches? If I have to go through this, I think I’m at least owed a little creativitaaHAHAHA!”
“Oh great, we're doing this again. Let me guess? Another feet in stocks story?”
Georgie looks around the dungeon that she had found herself, chains clanking from the walls and a Judas Cross taking up the bulk of the chamber. A single black door was the only exit, and candle light flickered over the dark room.
Then she looks down at herself. Her short body was in nothing but a bra and panties, her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. Her feet are trapped in a pair of thick wooden stocks, and her arms are firmly held over her head with long chains.
She rolls her eyes as she wiggles her toes against the hard wood.
“Course it is. Just bare feet and stocks, like ten million other tickle stories. Don’t even have a reason I ended up here. What, ‘someone kidnapped her’ was beyond your creative skills? At least my toes aren’t tied, so there’s some…”
The door opens, and a figure walks in. A man wearing a black mask, tall and muscular, begins tying her toes to the stocks.
“And there we go. Who’s this guy, huh? Come on, tell me about your deep inner life and complex motivations! I bet the author put a lot of thought into you and you’re definitely not just a glorified tickle tool!”
As she expected, the man ignores her pleas and instead silently takes out a bottle of lotion. Pushing out a small portion, he starts rubbing it over her feet. She shudders slightly at the cold and the sensitive touch, but still manages a snort.
“What do you mean ‘pleas’? How were those pleas? You really are committed to being by the numbers the whole way, huh? Can’t even...eep!”
Georgie squeals as a finger ran down her foot, a burst of sensation shooting up her leg. She tried to jerk away, but even if they’re maybe not the most unique form of bondage an amateur writer can come up with on short notice, the stocks certainly kept her from escaping. Still, she tires to keep up a brave face even as the tickling intensifies and keeping her laughter out of her voice becomes impossible.
“N..eep! No plohot! Haha! No nahaharrative! Just ahaha just a transparent exchuhuse to put your hands in your…”
The man is now tickling open, her feet wiggling away as the electric sensations overwhelm them. Her hair is loose and her glasses are askew as the tickling quickly reached unprecedented levels. Her body begins to shake as she frantically tries to jerk her feet back through the stocks, to no avail. She's stuck here for good.
“Ahahaha! Electric ahahaha sensations? Everyone says electric sensations!! Hey! Stop! Ahaha! This is..ahaha!”
The man silently reaches down for a hairbrush and starts raking it over the soles of Georgie’s bare feet. Her head flings back as a new storm of tickling hits her. She almost manages to lurch forwards, but the tight chains stop her. She cackles, laughing hysterically as the tickling quickly becomes unbearable, her soft and horribly sensitive soles aflame with the sensation. The man shows no mercy, attacking her feet ruthlessly no matter how loudly she screams.
“No! Ahahaha! Fuck, fuck! Stop it! Stop tickling! Where ahahaha even is this dungeon? We’ve got lohotion but also candles for lighting? Ahahah! What time period is this eheheven set? Why…”
Abruptly, her inability to recognise my creative genius is cut short by new fingers attacking Georgie from behind, running down her hideously ticklish underarms. Her instinctive attempts to jerk her arms down fail, the rattling chains mocking her helplessness, as she sees that a woman had walked in behind her, adding a brutal attack on her defenceless upper body to the continued torture of her bare feet.
“Ahahaha noo! Whahaha? Walked in from ahahaha where? Ohohohono! You established ahahaha there was only one door! You’re ehehehe just ignoring your worldbuilding to hahahave another tickler appear to...”
OK, you want to play it like that? Fine. There’s now six ticklers, and they all have dozens of tools and... and magical tickle enhancing powers. How do you like that?
Georgie spasms, her body shaking as the tickle attack intensified. Now there’s someone working on each spot. An electric brush is plunged into her belly button as other brushes move over her armpits, while her toes and her ribs suffer probing fingers one by one She howls with laughter, face bright red, glasses long ago fallen to the floor. She sobs and struggles, but there’s nowhere that she can go. All she can do is sit there and suffer the unrelenting tickling.
Unless maybe she has something to say about the situation?
“AHAHAHA OH GOD! OKAHAHAHY! THIHIHIS IS THE MOST ORIGINAL HAHAHA STORY EVER WRITTEN! OHOHOHO GOD! YOU’RE THE NEHEHEHEXT SHAKESPEARE! AHAHAHA! JUST STOP!”
Aww, thanks!
Alas, despite her sincere acknowledgement of one of the greatest fetish writers of our generation, the tickling continues without mercy. Her arms are shaking as her armpits are constantly attacked, her belly is shivering as fingers dive into her belly button, her feet are covered in horribly ticklish brushes. Her toes struggle against the ties and her arms struggle against the chains, but there’s no way out.
Her laughter gets more hysterical, ragged at the edges, as the torture keeps going. Her face contorts with laughter as she struggles against each and every tickling touch running over her exposed body.
“EHEHEHEHEHE! FINE! YOU KNOHOHOHOW WHAT? I TAKE IT BACK! AHAHAHAHA! THIS OHOHOHONO IS STILL GARBAGE! AHAHAHA FUCK! EVEN MY BEHEHEHEGGING IS CLICHÉ! AHAHAHA! YOU’RE A HACK! NAAAH! YOU HEAR ME! A HAHAHAHACK!”
Oh hey, look at that. Another ten ticklers just entered the room. What are the odds of that?
Now that there are ticklers for every possible spot, Georgie’s completely overwhelmed. There are fingers running over soles and ankles, behind knees, down ribs, across bellies and into armpits. Even the neck and back aren’t spared an assault. Every part of her body is hypersensitive and overwhelmed with tickling, and her mind is fully consumed by it. Poor girl
Tears stream down her face, her body shakes constantly, her struggles both frantic and completely impotent. All she can do is struggle through the unrelenting, mind-shattering tickling.
Hmm. I wonder if she has any cutting comments to make?
“AHAHAHANAHAHANOHOHOAHAHANOHOHAHAHAHPLAHAHAARRGGHH”
Glad to hear it!
As the ticklers keep working over her, never once stopping in their ruthless attack, Georgie’s laughter gets ever more intense, quickly mixing with squeals and yelps of panic. Through all this the tickling didn’t stop once, the ticklers never showing signs of getting tired or bored for extremely creative reasons that I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on.
Finally, she begins to feel woozy, the tickling finally pushing her well over her limits. She begins to feel a sense of hazy numbness creep into the edges of the unrelenting ticklish sensations, slowly pulling her from consciousness.
“I...ahaha...don’t think...ahaha… that’s how that works…”
And then she passes out.
Georgie wakes up in a bikini, buried with only her head and feet sticking out. She sighs as the other three girls there moved for her bare feet.
“Oh come on! A buried in the sand beach scene next? Can you do anything except cliches? If I have to go through this, I think I’m at least owed a little creativitaaHAHAHA!”
