Sablesword
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2001
- Messages
- 801
- Points
- 18
Part one can be found here: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=35922
At this rate it looks like it will be 5-7 parts total by the time I'm done.
EDIT: It turned out to have 5 parts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5 (conclusion)
Princess Alisha's Ransom - Part 2
by Sablesword
The next day, they put Princess Alisha into green and white pajamas. After that, the ogre Maark bound her hand and foot, putting her into a hog-tie and tickling her once more.
"Squirm and giggle little princess," Maark said as his fingers danced cleverly over Alisha's bare soles.
Alisha did squirm, and did giggle. She couldn't keep from squirming or giggling with those tickle-sensations being pressed into her bare feet. Maark seemed tireless as his left hand clamped her ankles in an inescapable grip, and his right hand made gentle curls, and swirls, and quick light stroke running from toe to heel or from one side of her foot to another. It wasn't bad, not a torment to drive her mad with agony, but Alisha knew that there was nothing, nothing at all, that she could do to make Maark stop before he choose to do so. And that knowledge made her extra-sensitive to his touch.
At last, the tickling did end. Alisha was exhausted. When Maark released her from the hogtie, she curled up and napped, waking a couple of hours later to find herself back in the gilded chains.
She spent the day on her oversized ogre's cot. Resting. Waiting. Her father had 40 days to deliver her ransom, before the Bandit Prince Chup and his ogres sold her in Ranchijammu. She knew that it would take most of that forty days to gather the ransom. But she was a princess as well as a sorceress, and she knew how to wait.
She meditated, and ran silently through various lessons in grammar and deportment, in etiquette and policy, in economics and in magic. She wished she could practice her magic, but after being tickled so, she couldn't cast even the simplest and most harmless of spells. The Words turned into ornate but powerless words, on her tongue.
That, of course, was why her captors had tickled her. One of the reasons. The other reason was to prepare her for the auction block in Ranchijammu, if her karma should lead her that way. Ticklish, easily aroused young women brought a high price there...
In the evening, Chup returned from whatever princely banditry he'd been up to. "Strip, Your Highness," he commanded after removing the gilded chains, and once Alisha was nude, he tied a silken rope around her waist. With a few clever knots, he turned this into a harness-and-leash, the rope running about Alisha just above her hips, dipping down between her legs to press snugly against her shaved womanhood, and then playing out as a leash with its other end held firmly in Chup's fist. With this leash, he led Alisha out of the ogre's hut-cave and onto the grass.
A circle of five or six ogres awaited her, sitting on the ground, grinning broadly as they watched her. Chup tugged on the rope, leading Alisha to the center of the circle. "And now, Your Highness," he told her, "you will dance."
Alisha stood and glared at him. "And if I don't?"
"You need to stretch, to exercise. To get your blood flowing after spending all day chained up in our hideout."
"And if I don't?" Alisha repeated.
Chup grinned as broadly as the ogres, and tugged. Alisha squeaked as the cleverly tied rope goosed her in a sensitive place. She felt her face flush, and heard Chup say, "I suppose I could convince you directly, Your Highness. However, I'll make a different threat, instead. If you dance, you'll get a comb and a wash before bed. If not..." He raised an eyebrow.
Alisha gritted her teeth, and let her breath hiss out through them. "You win," she spat out. Then she closed her eyes, raised her hands above head, and twirled around in place.
"Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" the ogres began to chant, giving her a beat. Alisha stretched and kicked. She opened her eyes to keep from stumbling, and almost stumbled anyway. The ogres all had their hands up, wiggling their fingers as if tickling. "Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" they continued to chant as they moved their hands up and down in the air.
It didn't actually tickle, of course. It didn't make Alisha giggle or squirm. But it did give her this squirmy sensation: The ghost of a tickle, the shadow of a tickle. She felt herself flush again, her whole body, this time, and not just her face. "Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" the ogres continued to chant, and Alisha kept dancing. It would be more embarrassing to stop.
And demons take him, but Chup was right. She did need this exercise. Even if it was... unusual. Even if it did involve nude, rude dancing with ogres hooting at her and shadow-tickling her. Even with this maddening leash of a rope around her waist and between her legs. "Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" the ogres chanted, still wiggling their fingers at her. She could almost feel their tickling if she closed her eyes. Chup gave an occasional tug on the rope, in time with the chanting, a smug look on his face.
Alisha had to choke back a giggle that didn't come from the shadow-tickling. Well, at least mostly not from that: It also came from a sudden image of her throwing herself at Chup's feet, screaming "Please please please! Tie me down and tickle me silly! I want it! I want it! I want it!" That smug look on his face would break in utter shock. Or maybe not...
A quarter-hour passed. A half-hour. Alisha continued to dance to the ogres' chant. She shivered occasionally from the shadow-tickling they kept up. Nearly an hour passed before Chup called a halt. The ogres applauded, and Alisha, out of breath and feeling absurdly pleased, let herself be led off to the promised wash and comb before bed.
That set the pattern for the next five days. Maark the ogre would hogtie her in the morning and give her a vigorous foot-tickling. Then she would laze around all day in her green and white pajamas, barefoot, and chained in gilded chains while Chup and the ogres left for business of their own. Maark or one of the other ogres would always stay behind to watch her, and sometimes they'd agree to a game of Go.
On the eighth day after her capture, however, Chup led Alisha out nude and waist-leashed in the morning. "It's an ogre holy day today," Chup explained. "They want you to help celebrate it. Don't worry, they won't hurt you."
"No hurt cute princess," Maark agreed. "Bad thing three ways. Today is... not magic, what-you-say." He then said to Chup, «Tell our captive sorceress-princess that she should relax and enjoy it. That the roasting is entirely symbolic.»
"It's all... play-acting?" Alisha asked. Her command of the ogre's language was about the same as Maark's command of hers.
"That's right," Chup confirmed. "Just relax and enjoy it."
"Yes," Maark said. "Play acting. Not hurt. Tickle. Tickling not hurt, eh?" he grinned suddenly.
"No," Alisha had to agree. Being tickled didn't hurt. It was embarrassing, maddening, and exciting, but not agonizing. The worst thing about it was the way it stopped her from using her sorcery. If it weren't for that...
They made her lie down, arms extended ahead of her, and strapped her to a pole with broad leather straps. The pole also had cross-pieces to help secure her, to keep her firmly and comfortably in place when the pole was lifted and placed in a pair of Y-forks set firmly into the ground.
Alisha felt one of the ogres bind her hair back into a bun on the top of her head. She watched as the other ogres piled red- and yellow-painted rocks beneath her. Symbolic coals from a symbolic fire, she realized. Then they planted a broom among the rocks so that the bristles just touched her hip, and the awful realization began to creep over Alisha of just what she was in for.
Two of the ogres began turning the spit Alisha was tied to. As she rotated, the broom brushed over her hip, her rear, her hip, her front, her hip again, each rotation inflicting a merciless tickling over her most ticklish spots. Alisha whimpered and squeaked, trying to hold in her giggles. She squirmed, or tried to squirm. She could open and close her hands, and clench her bare feet, but the broad leather straps and strategically-placed cross-pieces held her firmly in place. There was no way she could avoid, or even mitigate, the constant sweep of the broom about her hips, loins, and rear.
Now another pair of ogres came forward to apply further tickling. A stiff brush teased the soles of Alisha's feet, and she lost the struggle to keep from laughing. Giggles poured out of her as she felt the tickle-sensations sink into her soles. And then there were the soft-bristled brushes and the feathers playing over her belly and back as she rotated on the spit. Over her legs, behind her knees and in front of them. Along her sides, and up and down her arms.
This wasn't the faint shadow-tickling of her evening dances. It wasn't even the foot-focused tickling she went through during her previous mornings' hogties. This was an intense, all-over tickling that had her boiling over with laughter. A symbolic fire indeed, it was so hot.
Alisha couldn't decide what was worse: The wild laughter being forced from her, the gentle, clever touches as the ogres brushed her sides, the stiffer-bristled assault on her feet that seemed to seek out and embarrass every nerve in her soles, or the steady sweep over hips and rear and loins that were growing more and more sensitive as she turned on the spit.
Or perhaps the worst part was that she could not escape any of it. The broadness of the straps holding her in place kept them from cutting into her, and shielded large areas of her skin, but at the same time they left large areas of skin exposed - and held in place, so that she could move away from the tickling, no matter how hard she struggled. She was helpless, completely helpless, against the various maddening tickling touches being applied to her rotating body. "Heehee hahahaha!" she laughed as the various tickles brushed over her sides and back and belly. "Hahahaha heeheheeheehee" as they teased her arms and legs. "Haha hahaha hahaha!" as they scrubbed the naked soles of her feet. "Heeheehahaheeheeheehaho!" as they tickled her most sensitive hips and rear and loins. A most frustrating tickle, this last, making her hot without giving her any release.
Alisha coughed, and gasped for air. The tickling rotation stopped, and the ogres lifted her upright. They gave her cold herb tea to drink, soothing the incipient rawness of her throat. They loosened the straps and allowed her to relieve herself without embarrassing herself in the process. Then, when she had caught her breath, they tightened the straps again and placed her back on the Y-forks for more tickling.
Her brief respite left Alisha feeling twice as sensitive as before. She was flushed and sweating, and struggled desperately as the ogres teased and tickled the bare soles of her feet. She laughed and laughed as their soft tickling brushes ran over her arms and legs, over her belly and sides and back. As that implacable broom continued to sweep her exquisitely sensitive hips and rear and loins in a way that was as maddening, and as frustrating, as all the other tickles put together.
Alisha, floating out somewhere in an ocean of tickling, heard Chup's voice speaking from a great distance: "Is she done yet?"
"Check and see," an ogre answered.
Alisha felt Chup's fingers on her pussy, on that sensitive portion of her body that she had shaven as a spiritual exercise when she had first learned her sorcery, and that she had kept shaven from habit, afterwards. It felt even more sensitive after that long teasing of the sweeping broom as she rotated on the spit, but the bandit prince's fingers were gentle. They moved with expert confidence, and Alisha suddenly felt herself flood. "Ah! Ah! Ah!" she cried out as the orgasm writhed through her. The tickles on her skin roasted her with sweet fire, and inside she was filled with molten pleasure. She squealed with the happiness of it, a squeal that went on and on and on...
She had only vague memories afterwards, of what happened next. She could remember being in a silken sack with only her head protruding, the fabric soft and soothing and not tickling at all. She remembered being propped up, the ogres making much of her as they fed her tasty tidbits from the feast they had prepared. She couldn't remember being carried to her cot, but she did remember how wonderfully inviting it felt, for those few moments before she dropped off to sleep.
to be continued
At this rate it looks like it will be 5-7 parts total by the time I'm done.
EDIT: It turned out to have 5 parts:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5 (conclusion)
Princess Alisha's Ransom - Part 2
by Sablesword
The next day, they put Princess Alisha into green and white pajamas. After that, the ogre Maark bound her hand and foot, putting her into a hog-tie and tickling her once more.
"Squirm and giggle little princess," Maark said as his fingers danced cleverly over Alisha's bare soles.
Alisha did squirm, and did giggle. She couldn't keep from squirming or giggling with those tickle-sensations being pressed into her bare feet. Maark seemed tireless as his left hand clamped her ankles in an inescapable grip, and his right hand made gentle curls, and swirls, and quick light stroke running from toe to heel or from one side of her foot to another. It wasn't bad, not a torment to drive her mad with agony, but Alisha knew that there was nothing, nothing at all, that she could do to make Maark stop before he choose to do so. And that knowledge made her extra-sensitive to his touch.
At last, the tickling did end. Alisha was exhausted. When Maark released her from the hogtie, she curled up and napped, waking a couple of hours later to find herself back in the gilded chains.
She spent the day on her oversized ogre's cot. Resting. Waiting. Her father had 40 days to deliver her ransom, before the Bandit Prince Chup and his ogres sold her in Ranchijammu. She knew that it would take most of that forty days to gather the ransom. But she was a princess as well as a sorceress, and she knew how to wait.
She meditated, and ran silently through various lessons in grammar and deportment, in etiquette and policy, in economics and in magic. She wished she could practice her magic, but after being tickled so, she couldn't cast even the simplest and most harmless of spells. The Words turned into ornate but powerless words, on her tongue.
That, of course, was why her captors had tickled her. One of the reasons. The other reason was to prepare her for the auction block in Ranchijammu, if her karma should lead her that way. Ticklish, easily aroused young women brought a high price there...
In the evening, Chup returned from whatever princely banditry he'd been up to. "Strip, Your Highness," he commanded after removing the gilded chains, and once Alisha was nude, he tied a silken rope around her waist. With a few clever knots, he turned this into a harness-and-leash, the rope running about Alisha just above her hips, dipping down between her legs to press snugly against her shaved womanhood, and then playing out as a leash with its other end held firmly in Chup's fist. With this leash, he led Alisha out of the ogre's hut-cave and onto the grass.
A circle of five or six ogres awaited her, sitting on the ground, grinning broadly as they watched her. Chup tugged on the rope, leading Alisha to the center of the circle. "And now, Your Highness," he told her, "you will dance."
Alisha stood and glared at him. "And if I don't?"
"You need to stretch, to exercise. To get your blood flowing after spending all day chained up in our hideout."
"And if I don't?" Alisha repeated.
Chup grinned as broadly as the ogres, and tugged. Alisha squeaked as the cleverly tied rope goosed her in a sensitive place. She felt her face flush, and heard Chup say, "I suppose I could convince you directly, Your Highness. However, I'll make a different threat, instead. If you dance, you'll get a comb and a wash before bed. If not..." He raised an eyebrow.
Alisha gritted her teeth, and let her breath hiss out through them. "You win," she spat out. Then she closed her eyes, raised her hands above head, and twirled around in place.
"Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" the ogres began to chant, giving her a beat. Alisha stretched and kicked. She opened her eyes to keep from stumbling, and almost stumbled anyway. The ogres all had their hands up, wiggling their fingers as if tickling. "Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" they continued to chant as they moved their hands up and down in the air.
It didn't actually tickle, of course. It didn't make Alisha giggle or squirm. But it did give her this squirmy sensation: The ghost of a tickle, the shadow of a tickle. She felt herself flush again, her whole body, this time, and not just her face. "Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" the ogres continued to chant, and Alisha kept dancing. It would be more embarrassing to stop.
And demons take him, but Chup was right. She did need this exercise. Even if it was... unusual. Even if it did involve nude, rude dancing with ogres hooting at her and shadow-tickling her. Even with this maddening leash of a rope around her waist and between her legs. "Hoot! Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" the ogres chanted, still wiggling their fingers at her. She could almost feel their tickling if she closed her eyes. Chup gave an occasional tug on the rope, in time with the chanting, a smug look on his face.
Alisha had to choke back a giggle that didn't come from the shadow-tickling. Well, at least mostly not from that: It also came from a sudden image of her throwing herself at Chup's feet, screaming "Please please please! Tie me down and tickle me silly! I want it! I want it! I want it!" That smug look on his face would break in utter shock. Or maybe not...
A quarter-hour passed. A half-hour. Alisha continued to dance to the ogres' chant. She shivered occasionally from the shadow-tickling they kept up. Nearly an hour passed before Chup called a halt. The ogres applauded, and Alisha, out of breath and feeling absurdly pleased, let herself be led off to the promised wash and comb before bed.
#
That set the pattern for the next five days. Maark the ogre would hogtie her in the morning and give her a vigorous foot-tickling. Then she would laze around all day in her green and white pajamas, barefoot, and chained in gilded chains while Chup and the ogres left for business of their own. Maark or one of the other ogres would always stay behind to watch her, and sometimes they'd agree to a game of Go.
On the eighth day after her capture, however, Chup led Alisha out nude and waist-leashed in the morning. "It's an ogre holy day today," Chup explained. "They want you to help celebrate it. Don't worry, they won't hurt you."
"No hurt cute princess," Maark agreed. "Bad thing three ways. Today is... not magic, what-you-say." He then said to Chup, «Tell our captive sorceress-princess that she should relax and enjoy it. That the roasting is entirely symbolic.»
"It's all... play-acting?" Alisha asked. Her command of the ogre's language was about the same as Maark's command of hers.
"That's right," Chup confirmed. "Just relax and enjoy it."
"Yes," Maark said. "Play acting. Not hurt. Tickle. Tickling not hurt, eh?" he grinned suddenly.
"No," Alisha had to agree. Being tickled didn't hurt. It was embarrassing, maddening, and exciting, but not agonizing. The worst thing about it was the way it stopped her from using her sorcery. If it weren't for that...
They made her lie down, arms extended ahead of her, and strapped her to a pole with broad leather straps. The pole also had cross-pieces to help secure her, to keep her firmly and comfortably in place when the pole was lifted and placed in a pair of Y-forks set firmly into the ground.
Alisha felt one of the ogres bind her hair back into a bun on the top of her head. She watched as the other ogres piled red- and yellow-painted rocks beneath her. Symbolic coals from a symbolic fire, she realized. Then they planted a broom among the rocks so that the bristles just touched her hip, and the awful realization began to creep over Alisha of just what she was in for.
Two of the ogres began turning the spit Alisha was tied to. As she rotated, the broom brushed over her hip, her rear, her hip, her front, her hip again, each rotation inflicting a merciless tickling over her most ticklish spots. Alisha whimpered and squeaked, trying to hold in her giggles. She squirmed, or tried to squirm. She could open and close her hands, and clench her bare feet, but the broad leather straps and strategically-placed cross-pieces held her firmly in place. There was no way she could avoid, or even mitigate, the constant sweep of the broom about her hips, loins, and rear.
Now another pair of ogres came forward to apply further tickling. A stiff brush teased the soles of Alisha's feet, and she lost the struggle to keep from laughing. Giggles poured out of her as she felt the tickle-sensations sink into her soles. And then there were the soft-bristled brushes and the feathers playing over her belly and back as she rotated on the spit. Over her legs, behind her knees and in front of them. Along her sides, and up and down her arms.
This wasn't the faint shadow-tickling of her evening dances. It wasn't even the foot-focused tickling she went through during her previous mornings' hogties. This was an intense, all-over tickling that had her boiling over with laughter. A symbolic fire indeed, it was so hot.
Alisha couldn't decide what was worse: The wild laughter being forced from her, the gentle, clever touches as the ogres brushed her sides, the stiffer-bristled assault on her feet that seemed to seek out and embarrass every nerve in her soles, or the steady sweep over hips and rear and loins that were growing more and more sensitive as she turned on the spit.
Or perhaps the worst part was that she could not escape any of it. The broadness of the straps holding her in place kept them from cutting into her, and shielded large areas of her skin, but at the same time they left large areas of skin exposed - and held in place, so that she could move away from the tickling, no matter how hard she struggled. She was helpless, completely helpless, against the various maddening tickling touches being applied to her rotating body. "Heehee hahahaha!" she laughed as the various tickles brushed over her sides and back and belly. "Hahahaha heeheheeheehee" as they teased her arms and legs. "Haha hahaha hahaha!" as they scrubbed the naked soles of her feet. "Heeheehahaheeheeheehaho!" as they tickled her most sensitive hips and rear and loins. A most frustrating tickle, this last, making her hot without giving her any release.
Alisha coughed, and gasped for air. The tickling rotation stopped, and the ogres lifted her upright. They gave her cold herb tea to drink, soothing the incipient rawness of her throat. They loosened the straps and allowed her to relieve herself without embarrassing herself in the process. Then, when she had caught her breath, they tightened the straps again and placed her back on the Y-forks for more tickling.
Her brief respite left Alisha feeling twice as sensitive as before. She was flushed and sweating, and struggled desperately as the ogres teased and tickled the bare soles of her feet. She laughed and laughed as their soft tickling brushes ran over her arms and legs, over her belly and sides and back. As that implacable broom continued to sweep her exquisitely sensitive hips and rear and loins in a way that was as maddening, and as frustrating, as all the other tickles put together.
Alisha, floating out somewhere in an ocean of tickling, heard Chup's voice speaking from a great distance: "Is she done yet?"
"Check and see," an ogre answered.
Alisha felt Chup's fingers on her pussy, on that sensitive portion of her body that she had shaven as a spiritual exercise when she had first learned her sorcery, and that she had kept shaven from habit, afterwards. It felt even more sensitive after that long teasing of the sweeping broom as she rotated on the spit, but the bandit prince's fingers were gentle. They moved with expert confidence, and Alisha suddenly felt herself flood. "Ah! Ah! Ah!" she cried out as the orgasm writhed through her. The tickles on her skin roasted her with sweet fire, and inside she was filled with molten pleasure. She squealed with the happiness of it, a squeal that went on and on and on...
She had only vague memories afterwards, of what happened next. She could remember being in a silken sack with only her head protruding, the fabric soft and soothing and not tickling at all. She remembered being propped up, the ogres making much of her as they fed her tasty tidbits from the feast they had prepared. She couldn't remember being carried to her cot, but she did remember how wonderfully inviting it felt, for those few moments before she dropped off to sleep.
to be continued
Last edited:
