NightFeather
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This is a strange one. It may not be everyone's cup of tea. Enjoy or don't, just remember that as stated in the story, all participants are adults. One very much so.
THE GHOST AND MR. MUIR
Greg sat at the dinner table eating the meal his mother had prepared while listening to his father tell another boring work story. He was struggling to look like he was paying attention, eyes darting around the room, when he felt it, a feather running across the sole of his foot. The soft touch was accompanied by a ticklish sensation.
The urge to laugh wasn’t too strong, so Greg was able to stifle an involuntary giggle. He instinctively moved his foot from side to side, but knew it would do no good. Looking down, he could see an ephemeral hand coming through the floor, fingers passing through the leather on the bottom of his shoe.
“So Jenkins sent form 809b instead of 809c,” his father was saying, “As you can imagine, that didn’t make accounting very happy!” At that moment, a second tickling caress on his other foot. A quick giggle escaped his lips. Fortunately, his Dad thought he was laughing at his joke. He granted Simon a rare smile.
The meal again descended into quiet as all three of them went back to their meal. A second light, brushing sensation hit each of his feet. Greg forced down another giggle, clenching his jaw. His feet moved more now, up and down and side to side, trying to avoid the translucent hands. It didn’t do much to lessen the sensation.
“Greg dear, please sit still. There is no excuse for poor table manners,” his mother said, her New England accent apparent with every word.
Greg tried to force his legs to remain motionless as the tickling continued to build. He wasn’t terribly feather ticklish, but their persistence was starting to break his resolve. Greg tried to keep his lips pressed together, but a couple of high pitched squeals managed to escape. His mother immediately fixed her gaze on him.
“Did you find that funny? I know you are eighteen and technically an adult,” she snapped, “But you will continue to respect your parents as long as you live here!”
He was actually nineteen and normally Greg would have reminded his mother of that angrily. Right then, however, he didn't think he could talk without breaking into a string of giggles. Instead, he just nodded his head while his hand clenched his fork in a death grip. He knew he had to remain in control. But it was so hard!
It seemed like both his soles were now covered in that light, feathery soft touch, moving back and forth from heel to the balls of his feet. Simon closed his eyes now even as tears started whelming up in them. He looked down to see both ephemeral hands hard at work, all five fingers penetrating his shoe leather to continue their attack.
“Answer your mother,” his father said, a firm look on his face.
Unfortunately for Greg, his tickler was waiting for that moment before launching her true attack. As Greg, with no other real choice, tried to speak. the feathers shifted and attacked his toes. The downy softness slid over the pads, down the stems and slipping in between. He broke into a stream of giggles.
“He ehehehehnrrggg heheh sohohorryyyy h eheh ehe eheh I dididdntt he e ehehe mehehenn heheh tuhuhu beheheheh dihhiissrespectful eh ehehhehe…”
“Greg, neither your father nor I are amused. Take your plate and finish eating in your room. No matter what your age, you are acting like a child, and neither of us wish to see it.”
With that pronouncement, the tickling stopped. As he stood, Greg saw the translucent hands slide back into the floor. He picked up his food and, without another word, walked upstairs into his bedroom.
*************************************************************************************************************
Greg was at his desk reading through his history textbook, his empty dinner plate pushed off to one side, when she came. Through the wall came the image of a woman, as translucent as her hands. She was wearing a simple dress with a long, pleated skirt that almost went down to the floor. Her hair was in a tight bun, and there was a disapproving look in her eyes.
“Gregory,” she said in a prim and proper voice, “I still cannot believe that a man of your years is still in school. In my time, you would have started your career and most likely married with a small babe. It does seem like a tremendous waste of time.”
The woman that appeared had a faint green glow as she floated about a foot above the ground. She looked to be in her mid twenties and did appear to be somewhat attractive, with auburn hair and fine features. Her dress, however, hairstyle and lack of makeup gave her a severe appearance. The expression on her face, haughty and unyielding, did not help, either.
“Well, Sarah, I was sick a lot during kindergarten and they decided to have me repeat the year. Normally when you’re nineteen you would either be in college or done with school. I’m just lucky I guess, getting to still live at home at my age.” The sarcasm was practically dripping.
He had first seen the ghost almost five years ago when his family had first moved into the house. She was dressed exactly as she was now, like a woman out of the 19th century. Her speech as well sounded like it was from the past, though it was peppered with expressions and syntax she had evidently picked up in the decades since her death.
“You know I find it improper for you to call an older, married woman by her first name,” Sarah sniffed, “You should address me as Mrs. Parker, and do so with much more respect than you currently do. With all that education forced upon you, you would think that good manners would be a part of the curriculum.”
Of course Sarah had freaked Greg out when she first appeared. He told his mother immediately. When she was skeptical, he had begged and begged his parents to believe him. His mother was a practical woman. When the ghost never appeared to her or father, she deemed it all foolishness and punished him. Greg had quickly decided that mentioning Sarah to his mother again would be pointless.
“Just how old are you,” Greg snapped, “You don’t look much older than me, so I don’t see why I need to offer you any respect.” He honestly wished to find a way to make the pesting poltergeist go away. Unlike the ones in the movies, she was neither frightening nor comical, just annoying.
“You should know a lady never confesses her true age. Even if you were correct, however, you would still not be considering the decades I have spent since I shuffled off this mortal coil. That more than makes me your senior. Now, if we have exchanged sufficient banter, I have a request to make of you.’
A request? Greg was confused. For most of his time living in the house, Sarah had simply just been there, appearing at random. Often she would ignore him, occasionally posing a question or scolding him for some action she felt was improper. It was more like having a second mother than anything else. She certainly had never seemed to want anything from him. If anything, Sarah had acted like he was beneath her.
Things had started to change on his eighteenth birthday. It was then that she had started tickling him, like she had done at dinner. She offered no explanation for her actions or even acknowledged it had happened the next day. There was certainly no playfulness connected to the strange actions.
“What do you want,?” Greg asked, turning in his chair to face the ghost. Her face as usual was a stoic mask, but he thought he could feel a reluctance in her, as if she didn’t want to say the next words.
“I need you to befoul yourself through an act of self gratification,” she said with icy cold words, “Or to use a crude expression from your times, to wack off.”
Greg could only stare at Sarah, completely amazed by her words. He undoubtedly would have done a spit take if he had a mouth full of liquid. The request from anyone would have been absurd and insulting, but from this prim, straight-laced woman from the past, it was unimaginable. It was like hearing your grandmother go on a ten minute swearing streak with plenty of F-bombs and worse.
“It is not that I would enjoy seeing this,” Sarah said curtly, “To remain on this side of the curtain and maintain this form, I need to obtain life energy. This energy is most commonly generated by sexual acts, as new life stems from such deeds. It is for this reason I have been waiting for you to achieve adulthood. You certainly now have the years even if your lifestyle leaves something to be desired. Alas, I can wait no longer, and as you seem unlikely to bring home a bride anytime soon, this must suffice.”
“Hardly the proper actions of a married lady, don’t you think?” He had no intention of masturbating for her, but was growing concerned as to what she might do if he refused.
“It is not something I look forward to, but we all bow to necessity,” she answered, “Besides, as you say, I am not some blushing maiden. As a married woman, I am familiar with the appearance of male anatomy and how it is used. I also know what men do when they cannot find a willing wench. Now please begin, and can we both get on with our evening.”
While Greg had nothing against masturbation, having done it since he was first able, the thought of doing it while Sarah watched was too humiliating to consider. Not to mention, the idea of being drained of life energy sounded both dangerous and terrifying, like something from a bad horror movie.
In all his dealings with Sarah, however, he had learned that she had little respect for emotional outbursts. They were not a good method of communicating with the specter. You had to be passionless and restrained to get her to listen. Probably a symptom of growing up so long ago. It meant he had to deal with her in a very specific way.
“I’m afraid not,” Greg said after his initial shock had disappeared, trying to mimic Sarah’s formal tone despite the insanity of her request, “I have a history test tomorrow and I need to focus on my studies. Could you leave please so I can concentrate?”
“Oh bother,” Sarah said, floating over to him, “I guess we will have to do this the hard way.” With that, she reached out with both hands and began tickling Greg
Sarah’s ghostly hands phased through the bottom of Greg’s chair, the seat of his pants and his underwear to make contact with his soft buttocks. As they had on his feet, her insubstantial fingers felt more like feathers than flesh, sending the sensation a thousand ants scurrying across his backside.
“YEEEEKK! Whwhahahatt ah ahahahah ahaha whahahahttt ahahahah theheheheh hehehehllll ah ahahahah!” Greg shrieked like a child on the playground, bounced up and tried to turn around to face his assailant.
“I’m afraid Greg that I cannot take ‘No’ for an answer for this. Again, necessity is the master of us all,” Sarah said, moving around to be again behind Greg, “Luckily, I am prepared. Why do you think I’ve been tickling you for the last year? I had to practice my technique.”
Greg spun around, like a dog chasing its tail, trying to get away from Sarah’s fingers. Being a ghost, however, she could easily float behind him, fingers never leaving their target. They caressed his glutes, moving from down by his thighs to near his upper back.
“Stawwppp ah ahahahah ahahahah stawwppp ahahah thahahahtt, yuhuhuhu hahahah bihihittchch aha ahahahahah” Greg’s laugh was high pitched, more like a woman’s than a man’s. It was a steady stream of giggles, not at all like the sputtering, muffled titters he had released downstairs.
“You know you will pay for that insult, knave”, Sarah said. She kept on hand tickling his butt cheeks, while the other moved to his crack. Her downy soft fingertip slid up and down the crevice, stroking the place where the sun did not shine.
That was too much for the ticklish man. Being driven into a state of hysteria, Greg gave another shriek and started to move away from the ghost, not concerned at all with where he was going. Again, Sarah had no issue keeping pace with him, never trailing.
Greg reached the door, laughing harder and harder, prepared to run out into the hallway, focused on nothing more than escape. In his distress, he forgot that he had locked it. Even as the feathers kept dancing over his skin Greg tried to work the door lock. With his coordination slipping by the minute, he couldn’t quite work the lock, trapping him inside.
“Now, now, if you go out there, you’ll only summon your parents. We don’t want that, do we? I doubt they’d understand.” Her index finger swirled around Greg’s puckered anus, dancing over that delicate part of Greg’s body. With a bellow, his knees grew weak and he collapsed to the ground.
“H AHA AHAHAHAHAH PLEHEEHEHEHEHSSEEEE H AHAHAHAH PLEEASEEE HAHAHAH SAHAHAHRRAHAHAHAHH AHAHAHHAHA STAWWHAHAHWWPP AH AHAHAHAH!!” Greg’s laughter filled the bedroom, and he felt his strength start to fade away.
At that point Greg may not have minded his parents bursting in despite the possible consequences. Unfortunately, there was little chance of them hearing. When they bought the house, Greg’s parents added a new master suite on the first floor. Greg’s room was on the second floor on the other side of the building.
Greg rolled around as if on fire, fully hysterical, until ended up on his stomach. Barely able to think, he started crawling away from Sarah like a soldier going under barbed wire on the obstacle course. It didn’t stop the feather fingers on his ass or lessen it in any way. He only made it a few feet until his arms gave out and he was lying flat on the floor.
“I do regret this, Gregory. It would have been better if you had simply shown your elder some respect and complied,” Sarah said, shaking her head, “In my time we said that to spare the rod is to spoil the child. Well, you are no boy and I am not capable of holding a rod, so this will have to suffice. Hopefully, you will learn your lesson.”
Fingers never stopping to slide delicately over Greg’s posterior, Sarah started sinking into the floorboards. Soon, she was only visible from the waist up. This put her closer to Greg’s ass, lessening the need for her to reach down. It also allowed her to do something positively wicked.
Greg was overwhelmed by laughter, sweat running down his beat red face. His laughter now sounded nothing like it had downstairs. It was loud and piercing and a bit out of control. Greg pounded the floor with the palm of one hand, trying somehow to withstand the ticklish assault. What was coming next would push him over the edge.
Without warning, Greg felt a light touch on his testicles. The new sensation ran through him like lightning, slamming into his mind like a sledgehammer. Combined with the stroking on his buttocks, the tickling was now pure torture. He started cackling and howling, his laughter now bordering on insanity.
“YA AHAHAHHAH AHAHAHAH N N HA AHA YAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHNNNNN HA AHAHAHAHAHA MEHEEHEHEHRRCCYYYY AHA AHAHAHA AHAH CAAHAHAHNNTTT HA AHAHAHA NOHOHOOOHOO MOHOHORREEEE H AHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!”
Beneath the floor unseen, Sarah’s leg bent in a way no corporeal being’s limbs could bend. Her large toe had penetrated his pants and now lightly slid over Greg’s balls. It was a silky whisper on his scrotum, making them jiggle slightly with each pass. It was pure ticklish agony, and his resistance started to break with every swipe.
“That’s it, Gregory, laugh for your superior. You never had a chance of defying me. I have been subduing young men before your great grandfather was born, and you might be the weakest of all of them. Gootchie, gootchie goo, Gregory! In my time, that’s what we would say to babies, but as you have barely put up more of a struggle than they, those words still seem appropriate.”
Greg was barely aware of Sarah’s words anymore. The phantom woman’s foot twisted slightly, and her other toes found Greg’s taint. They started wiggling over the bit of flesh, a new sensation added to his torture. Tickled on both ass and privates, he cackled louder and louder. A touch of insanity started growing in his bellows. With the little strength he had, Greg kicked his legs like a child throwing a tantrum.
“I am sorry you do have to suffer so much,” Sarah said, “Perhaps this will make up for my cruelty, or at least make sure it ends more quickly.”
Playing her last card, Sarah’s other foot found Greg’s shaft. Toes now traveled up and down its length. Unlike his other tortured body parts, being feathered there brought out conflicting sensations. It tickled, sure, but it also sent waves of pleasure washing over him. His insane cackles began to be interspersed with moans and groans.
Sarah kept him in that state of what seemed an eternity, laughing like a madman while becoming more and more excited. Two hands and two feet were more than enough to devastate the young man. Even as she tickled, however, Sarah paid careful attention to his laughter. Decades of practice had taught her when his hysteria would reach its peak, the point after which further torments would be counterproductive.
She could also feel his sexual need in his shaft through her toes. As she stroked, it grew harder and pulsated more and more. Sarah wasn’t worried about him finishing early. Her toes were not substantial enough to stimulate him to that point. If anything, the sexual contact that could not end in climax became yet another torment for the young man.
Sarah kept Greg in this state of ticklish and erotic torment for minutes. His laughter grew more and more faint and his body started trembling on the floor as he no longer had the energy to thrash his arms and legs. Eventually, sensing her prey was on the verge of complete exhaustion, Sarah stopped.
Greg just lay there for several minutes trying to recover. Tears had stained his cheeks, his shirt was wet with sweat and a pool of drool was just below where his mouth had been. Catching his breath alone took time. Regaining the strength to get off the floor took even longer. Eventually, he did just that.
“Now,” Sarah asked, “Are you ready to do as I ask?” She folded her arms, giving him a stare that would have intimidated a rabid wolf.
Greg could only nod his head, a look of defeat on his face. As much as he didn’t want to do it, he didn’t dare oppose her. The tickling was just too much. Legs still shaky, he made his way to the bed and climbed onto the mattress. He started to pull down his pants, an expression of humiliation plastered across his face..
“Oh please,” Sarah snorted, “I am quite familiar with the male member, and quite frankly, I have seen better. Now get on with it please. Here, to help I will give you some visual stimuli. This will serve as a replacement for the pornography you usually view.”
Unbuttoning her top, Sarah put her breasts on full display. Greg couldn’t help but appreciate them, noticing their perfect shape and perky nipples. They confirmed for him that she had indeed been a young woman when she passed. Sarah could have easily been in the pornography she disliked.
With a sigh, Greg pulled out the lube he kept in his nightstand hidden underneath a pile of papers. He began to perform the act under Sarah’s careful examination. Her eyes never left him, somehow forcing him to meet her gaze. It made him feel like a trained animal in a zoo. Shame filled him, but he carried on. Fortunately, the ordeal had left him excited enough that it didn’t take long.
THE GHOST AND MR. MUIR
Greg sat at the dinner table eating the meal his mother had prepared while listening to his father tell another boring work story. He was struggling to look like he was paying attention, eyes darting around the room, when he felt it, a feather running across the sole of his foot. The soft touch was accompanied by a ticklish sensation.
The urge to laugh wasn’t too strong, so Greg was able to stifle an involuntary giggle. He instinctively moved his foot from side to side, but knew it would do no good. Looking down, he could see an ephemeral hand coming through the floor, fingers passing through the leather on the bottom of his shoe.
“So Jenkins sent form 809b instead of 809c,” his father was saying, “As you can imagine, that didn’t make accounting very happy!” At that moment, a second tickling caress on his other foot. A quick giggle escaped his lips. Fortunately, his Dad thought he was laughing at his joke. He granted Simon a rare smile.
The meal again descended into quiet as all three of them went back to their meal. A second light, brushing sensation hit each of his feet. Greg forced down another giggle, clenching his jaw. His feet moved more now, up and down and side to side, trying to avoid the translucent hands. It didn’t do much to lessen the sensation.
“Greg dear, please sit still. There is no excuse for poor table manners,” his mother said, her New England accent apparent with every word.
Greg tried to force his legs to remain motionless as the tickling continued to build. He wasn’t terribly feather ticklish, but their persistence was starting to break his resolve. Greg tried to keep his lips pressed together, but a couple of high pitched squeals managed to escape. His mother immediately fixed her gaze on him.
“Did you find that funny? I know you are eighteen and technically an adult,” she snapped, “But you will continue to respect your parents as long as you live here!”
He was actually nineteen and normally Greg would have reminded his mother of that angrily. Right then, however, he didn't think he could talk without breaking into a string of giggles. Instead, he just nodded his head while his hand clenched his fork in a death grip. He knew he had to remain in control. But it was so hard!
It seemed like both his soles were now covered in that light, feathery soft touch, moving back and forth from heel to the balls of his feet. Simon closed his eyes now even as tears started whelming up in them. He looked down to see both ephemeral hands hard at work, all five fingers penetrating his shoe leather to continue their attack.
“Answer your mother,” his father said, a firm look on his face.
Unfortunately for Greg, his tickler was waiting for that moment before launching her true attack. As Greg, with no other real choice, tried to speak. the feathers shifted and attacked his toes. The downy softness slid over the pads, down the stems and slipping in between. He broke into a stream of giggles.
“He ehehehehnrrggg heheh sohohorryyyy h eheh ehe eheh I dididdntt he e ehehe mehehenn heheh tuhuhu beheheheh dihhiissrespectful eh ehehhehe…”
“Greg, neither your father nor I are amused. Take your plate and finish eating in your room. No matter what your age, you are acting like a child, and neither of us wish to see it.”
With that pronouncement, the tickling stopped. As he stood, Greg saw the translucent hands slide back into the floor. He picked up his food and, without another word, walked upstairs into his bedroom.
*************************************************************************************************************
Greg was at his desk reading through his history textbook, his empty dinner plate pushed off to one side, when she came. Through the wall came the image of a woman, as translucent as her hands. She was wearing a simple dress with a long, pleated skirt that almost went down to the floor. Her hair was in a tight bun, and there was a disapproving look in her eyes.
“Gregory,” she said in a prim and proper voice, “I still cannot believe that a man of your years is still in school. In my time, you would have started your career and most likely married with a small babe. It does seem like a tremendous waste of time.”
The woman that appeared had a faint green glow as she floated about a foot above the ground. She looked to be in her mid twenties and did appear to be somewhat attractive, with auburn hair and fine features. Her dress, however, hairstyle and lack of makeup gave her a severe appearance. The expression on her face, haughty and unyielding, did not help, either.
“Well, Sarah, I was sick a lot during kindergarten and they decided to have me repeat the year. Normally when you’re nineteen you would either be in college or done with school. I’m just lucky I guess, getting to still live at home at my age.” The sarcasm was practically dripping.
He had first seen the ghost almost five years ago when his family had first moved into the house. She was dressed exactly as she was now, like a woman out of the 19th century. Her speech as well sounded like it was from the past, though it was peppered with expressions and syntax she had evidently picked up in the decades since her death.
“You know I find it improper for you to call an older, married woman by her first name,” Sarah sniffed, “You should address me as Mrs. Parker, and do so with much more respect than you currently do. With all that education forced upon you, you would think that good manners would be a part of the curriculum.”
Of course Sarah had freaked Greg out when she first appeared. He told his mother immediately. When she was skeptical, he had begged and begged his parents to believe him. His mother was a practical woman. When the ghost never appeared to her or father, she deemed it all foolishness and punished him. Greg had quickly decided that mentioning Sarah to his mother again would be pointless.
“Just how old are you,” Greg snapped, “You don’t look much older than me, so I don’t see why I need to offer you any respect.” He honestly wished to find a way to make the pesting poltergeist go away. Unlike the ones in the movies, she was neither frightening nor comical, just annoying.
“You should know a lady never confesses her true age. Even if you were correct, however, you would still not be considering the decades I have spent since I shuffled off this mortal coil. That more than makes me your senior. Now, if we have exchanged sufficient banter, I have a request to make of you.’
A request? Greg was confused. For most of his time living in the house, Sarah had simply just been there, appearing at random. Often she would ignore him, occasionally posing a question or scolding him for some action she felt was improper. It was more like having a second mother than anything else. She certainly had never seemed to want anything from him. If anything, Sarah had acted like he was beneath her.
Things had started to change on his eighteenth birthday. It was then that she had started tickling him, like she had done at dinner. She offered no explanation for her actions or even acknowledged it had happened the next day. There was certainly no playfulness connected to the strange actions.
“What do you want,?” Greg asked, turning in his chair to face the ghost. Her face as usual was a stoic mask, but he thought he could feel a reluctance in her, as if she didn’t want to say the next words.
“I need you to befoul yourself through an act of self gratification,” she said with icy cold words, “Or to use a crude expression from your times, to wack off.”
Greg could only stare at Sarah, completely amazed by her words. He undoubtedly would have done a spit take if he had a mouth full of liquid. The request from anyone would have been absurd and insulting, but from this prim, straight-laced woman from the past, it was unimaginable. It was like hearing your grandmother go on a ten minute swearing streak with plenty of F-bombs and worse.
“It is not that I would enjoy seeing this,” Sarah said curtly, “To remain on this side of the curtain and maintain this form, I need to obtain life energy. This energy is most commonly generated by sexual acts, as new life stems from such deeds. It is for this reason I have been waiting for you to achieve adulthood. You certainly now have the years even if your lifestyle leaves something to be desired. Alas, I can wait no longer, and as you seem unlikely to bring home a bride anytime soon, this must suffice.”
“Hardly the proper actions of a married lady, don’t you think?” He had no intention of masturbating for her, but was growing concerned as to what she might do if he refused.
“It is not something I look forward to, but we all bow to necessity,” she answered, “Besides, as you say, I am not some blushing maiden. As a married woman, I am familiar with the appearance of male anatomy and how it is used. I also know what men do when they cannot find a willing wench. Now please begin, and can we both get on with our evening.”
While Greg had nothing against masturbation, having done it since he was first able, the thought of doing it while Sarah watched was too humiliating to consider. Not to mention, the idea of being drained of life energy sounded both dangerous and terrifying, like something from a bad horror movie.
In all his dealings with Sarah, however, he had learned that she had little respect for emotional outbursts. They were not a good method of communicating with the specter. You had to be passionless and restrained to get her to listen. Probably a symptom of growing up so long ago. It meant he had to deal with her in a very specific way.
“I’m afraid not,” Greg said after his initial shock had disappeared, trying to mimic Sarah’s formal tone despite the insanity of her request, “I have a history test tomorrow and I need to focus on my studies. Could you leave please so I can concentrate?”
“Oh bother,” Sarah said, floating over to him, “I guess we will have to do this the hard way.” With that, she reached out with both hands and began tickling Greg
Sarah’s ghostly hands phased through the bottom of Greg’s chair, the seat of his pants and his underwear to make contact with his soft buttocks. As they had on his feet, her insubstantial fingers felt more like feathers than flesh, sending the sensation a thousand ants scurrying across his backside.
“YEEEEKK! Whwhahahatt ah ahahahah ahaha whahahahttt ahahahah theheheheh hehehehllll ah ahahahah!” Greg shrieked like a child on the playground, bounced up and tried to turn around to face his assailant.
“I’m afraid Greg that I cannot take ‘No’ for an answer for this. Again, necessity is the master of us all,” Sarah said, moving around to be again behind Greg, “Luckily, I am prepared. Why do you think I’ve been tickling you for the last year? I had to practice my technique.”
Greg spun around, like a dog chasing its tail, trying to get away from Sarah’s fingers. Being a ghost, however, she could easily float behind him, fingers never leaving their target. They caressed his glutes, moving from down by his thighs to near his upper back.
“Stawwppp ah ahahahah ahahahah stawwppp ahahah thahahahtt, yuhuhuhu hahahah bihihittchch aha ahahahahah” Greg’s laugh was high pitched, more like a woman’s than a man’s. It was a steady stream of giggles, not at all like the sputtering, muffled titters he had released downstairs.
“You know you will pay for that insult, knave”, Sarah said. She kept on hand tickling his butt cheeks, while the other moved to his crack. Her downy soft fingertip slid up and down the crevice, stroking the place where the sun did not shine.
That was too much for the ticklish man. Being driven into a state of hysteria, Greg gave another shriek and started to move away from the ghost, not concerned at all with where he was going. Again, Sarah had no issue keeping pace with him, never trailing.
Greg reached the door, laughing harder and harder, prepared to run out into the hallway, focused on nothing more than escape. In his distress, he forgot that he had locked it. Even as the feathers kept dancing over his skin Greg tried to work the door lock. With his coordination slipping by the minute, he couldn’t quite work the lock, trapping him inside.
“Now, now, if you go out there, you’ll only summon your parents. We don’t want that, do we? I doubt they’d understand.” Her index finger swirled around Greg’s puckered anus, dancing over that delicate part of Greg’s body. With a bellow, his knees grew weak and he collapsed to the ground.
“H AHA AHAHAHAHAH PLEHEEHEHEHEHSSEEEE H AHAHAHAH PLEEASEEE HAHAHAH SAHAHAHRRAHAHAHAHH AHAHAHHAHA STAWWHAHAHWWPP AH AHAHAHAH!!” Greg’s laughter filled the bedroom, and he felt his strength start to fade away.
At that point Greg may not have minded his parents bursting in despite the possible consequences. Unfortunately, there was little chance of them hearing. When they bought the house, Greg’s parents added a new master suite on the first floor. Greg’s room was on the second floor on the other side of the building.
Greg rolled around as if on fire, fully hysterical, until ended up on his stomach. Barely able to think, he started crawling away from Sarah like a soldier going under barbed wire on the obstacle course. It didn’t stop the feather fingers on his ass or lessen it in any way. He only made it a few feet until his arms gave out and he was lying flat on the floor.
“I do regret this, Gregory. It would have been better if you had simply shown your elder some respect and complied,” Sarah said, shaking her head, “In my time we said that to spare the rod is to spoil the child. Well, you are no boy and I am not capable of holding a rod, so this will have to suffice. Hopefully, you will learn your lesson.”
Fingers never stopping to slide delicately over Greg’s posterior, Sarah started sinking into the floorboards. Soon, she was only visible from the waist up. This put her closer to Greg’s ass, lessening the need for her to reach down. It also allowed her to do something positively wicked.
Greg was overwhelmed by laughter, sweat running down his beat red face. His laughter now sounded nothing like it had downstairs. It was loud and piercing and a bit out of control. Greg pounded the floor with the palm of one hand, trying somehow to withstand the ticklish assault. What was coming next would push him over the edge.
Without warning, Greg felt a light touch on his testicles. The new sensation ran through him like lightning, slamming into his mind like a sledgehammer. Combined with the stroking on his buttocks, the tickling was now pure torture. He started cackling and howling, his laughter now bordering on insanity.
“YA AHAHAHHAH AHAHAHAH N N HA AHA YAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHNNNNN HA AHAHAHAHAHA MEHEEHEHEHRRCCYYYY AHA AHAHAHA AHAH CAAHAHAHNNTTT HA AHAHAHA NOHOHOOOHOO MOHOHORREEEE H AHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!”
Beneath the floor unseen, Sarah’s leg bent in a way no corporeal being’s limbs could bend. Her large toe had penetrated his pants and now lightly slid over Greg’s balls. It was a silky whisper on his scrotum, making them jiggle slightly with each pass. It was pure ticklish agony, and his resistance started to break with every swipe.
“That’s it, Gregory, laugh for your superior. You never had a chance of defying me. I have been subduing young men before your great grandfather was born, and you might be the weakest of all of them. Gootchie, gootchie goo, Gregory! In my time, that’s what we would say to babies, but as you have barely put up more of a struggle than they, those words still seem appropriate.”
Greg was barely aware of Sarah’s words anymore. The phantom woman’s foot twisted slightly, and her other toes found Greg’s taint. They started wiggling over the bit of flesh, a new sensation added to his torture. Tickled on both ass and privates, he cackled louder and louder. A touch of insanity started growing in his bellows. With the little strength he had, Greg kicked his legs like a child throwing a tantrum.
“I am sorry you do have to suffer so much,” Sarah said, “Perhaps this will make up for my cruelty, or at least make sure it ends more quickly.”
Playing her last card, Sarah’s other foot found Greg’s shaft. Toes now traveled up and down its length. Unlike his other tortured body parts, being feathered there brought out conflicting sensations. It tickled, sure, but it also sent waves of pleasure washing over him. His insane cackles began to be interspersed with moans and groans.
Sarah kept him in that state of what seemed an eternity, laughing like a madman while becoming more and more excited. Two hands and two feet were more than enough to devastate the young man. Even as she tickled, however, Sarah paid careful attention to his laughter. Decades of practice had taught her when his hysteria would reach its peak, the point after which further torments would be counterproductive.
She could also feel his sexual need in his shaft through her toes. As she stroked, it grew harder and pulsated more and more. Sarah wasn’t worried about him finishing early. Her toes were not substantial enough to stimulate him to that point. If anything, the sexual contact that could not end in climax became yet another torment for the young man.
Sarah kept Greg in this state of ticklish and erotic torment for minutes. His laughter grew more and more faint and his body started trembling on the floor as he no longer had the energy to thrash his arms and legs. Eventually, sensing her prey was on the verge of complete exhaustion, Sarah stopped.
Greg just lay there for several minutes trying to recover. Tears had stained his cheeks, his shirt was wet with sweat and a pool of drool was just below where his mouth had been. Catching his breath alone took time. Regaining the strength to get off the floor took even longer. Eventually, he did just that.
“Now,” Sarah asked, “Are you ready to do as I ask?” She folded her arms, giving him a stare that would have intimidated a rabid wolf.
Greg could only nod his head, a look of defeat on his face. As much as he didn’t want to do it, he didn’t dare oppose her. The tickling was just too much. Legs still shaky, he made his way to the bed and climbed onto the mattress. He started to pull down his pants, an expression of humiliation plastered across his face..
“Oh please,” Sarah snorted, “I am quite familiar with the male member, and quite frankly, I have seen better. Now get on with it please. Here, to help I will give you some visual stimuli. This will serve as a replacement for the pornography you usually view.”
Unbuttoning her top, Sarah put her breasts on full display. Greg couldn’t help but appreciate them, noticing their perfect shape and perky nipples. They confirmed for him that she had indeed been a young woman when she passed. Sarah could have easily been in the pornography she disliked.
With a sigh, Greg pulled out the lube he kept in his nightstand hidden underneath a pile of papers. He began to perform the act under Sarah’s careful examination. Her eyes never left him, somehow forcing him to meet her gaze. It made him feel like a trained animal in a zoo. Shame filled him, but he carried on. Fortunately, the ordeal had left him excited enough that it didn’t take long.
