Dude'sonfire
TMF Expert
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Greetings all. It's been a while since I contributed anything, and I felt like spinning a yarn. Hope you all enjoy.
A young, blonde soldier walked briskly into the spacious office. 'Sir, the research on the Princess has come back.'
The officer, in his late forties, a silvered beard decorating his angular face, raised an eyebrow.
'The report came in this morning, sir.'
'Speak,' the officer replied.
'Well, it appears the magic she exudes on the populace is mostly subconscious. It is in an early stage of development due to her age.'
The officer nodded.
'It seems the degree of positive influence she imparts depends largely on her endorphin levels.'
'I see.'
'And while the war is going so badly, she of course is in a very stressed and melancholy state.'
'...Have drugs been ruled out?'
'The doctors say that the negative tail end effect of 'happy' drugs would nullify any initial benefit, and perhaps make the situation worse.'
'Could we simply help her be happy? Keep her with people she likes, keep her occupied?'
'The doctors do not believe that while the enemy is closing in on us that we could enhance her mood by any such means.'
The officer resumed rubbing his beard. He grumbled and shook his head. 'Such a cruel spiral.' He paused briefly, then said in a grim tone, 'Perhaps it would be best to kill her. If she can have no good effect, better that she has no effect at all.'
The soldier's eyes shifted. 'She is... the King would never agree, sir.'
'Her despair will lose us this war!' the officer replied instantly, banging his fist on the table. He took a deep breath, and let it out as a sigh. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited a moment. 'Is there no way to alter her hormone levels without using aggressive drugs?'
'I do not know, sir.'
'Ask the doctors. I want to know every possible option.'
'Yes sir.' The soldier saluted and left.
'...Tickle her?'
'It seems to be the best option,' said the doctor. 'We can give her mood altering drugs to flatten her out, but that would not have a similar positive effect. Laughing gas would be another option, but we have none here, and as you know, all of our supply lines are cut.'
The officer frowned deeply. '...She will agree to it?'
'Given the circumstance... does it matter?'
The officer locked eyes with the doctor for a good long moment, then nodded. 'We will need the King's permission, though. How long will it continue working?'
'Theoretically, so long as she is given breaks, entertainment, adequate social contact, enough food and water etc etc, we can continue the therapy indefinitely.'
The officer nodded again, then addressed his lieutenant, 'Put the papers before the King. Emphasise that she will be well taken care of, that it will cause her no bodily harm, and that it is imperative for the war effort. As soon as his pen hits the paper, I want her here.'
'...And I am in no position to refuse?' The princess's voice was angry but melodic. Her eyebrows were drawn down. Her long blonde hair fell far beyond her shoulders, and her dress hugged closely her slim, modestly curved form. Her hands wrung against the wooden chair she was in. She was twenty two.
'Princess Maya, the doctors assure me it is not too unpleasant an experience. It will, after all, be positively effecting your hormone balance.'
'It is a form of abuse!'
The officer just shrugged.
'I must protest.'
'It could prove very helpful in the coming war.'
'This is madness! It cannot help! Things are truly even worse than I thought, if these are the straws at which our generals are clutching!'
The officer took in a deep breath. 'The results will be better, the doctors say, if you participate willingly.'
The princess shook her head and held her frown as her eyes searched the office.
'Right, um... ok. I'm ready.'
The princess was sitting on a couch in a warmly coloured room with another woman. A gentle orange light glowed in the centre of the ceiling. An array of bondage and tickling equipment was discreetly packed in a corner of the room, behind the couch and out of the princesses immediate line of sight. Other hints that this was a hastily converted interrogation chamber were apparent, though still discreet, and the princess had not been told as much. The other woman was called Lolara, a handsome, firm faced woman in her early forties, who was the most experienced palace masseuse, and who had serviced the princess personally many times. The princess had a lot of respect and affection for her.
'Ok. Maya, give me your foot,' Lolara said, kindly but firmly.
The princess gingerly did as she was told. Her silk dress slid against her pale skin as she turned and placed her feet on Lolara's lap.
'Good girl. Now just relax.' She ran her hands gently over Maya's shins and ankles.
Maya took in a deep, quivering breath, and blew it out slowly.
Lolara ran a quick finger down Maya's sole.
'Oh Gods!' Maya yelped, jerking her foot back.
'Now child, you must not struggle.'
'But...'
'Do as you are told.' Again, her tone was kind, but immovably firm.
''Y-yes, ma'am.' The woman timidly placed her feet back on Lolara's lap.
Lolara began gently skirting the fingertips of her left hand over Maya's feet, while holding the girl's ankles in place with the gripping strength of her right.
'Oh Gods! Oh!' Maya's mouth shot open and she started laughing hysterically. 'Stop it!' She reached out a hand in protest, still laughing, though she didn't physically struggle. 'Stop!' She broke out in fresh, gleeful laughter, arching her back as she did.
Lolara's busy fingertips moved up and focused on the balls and toes of Maya's feet.
'Oh, mercy!' cried Maya, before her face became contorted in silent laughter. Then she said in a pleading tone, as Lolara's fingers moved back to her arches, in words half formed around strained laughs, 'What are you doing to me?'
Lolara continued to play with Maya's soft feet, moving across her heels and then over her insteps and on to the tops of her toes, before attacking the balls again.
As Lolara made that last move, Maya abruptly yanked her feet away, eyes almost teary. 'I cannot,' she said, grinning. 'I'm sorry.' She wiped her eyes. A few stray giggles found their way out.
Lolara gave her a stern look.
'I cannot!' Maya exclaimed, chuckling. 'It is simply impossible. I can't take anymore.'
'Child, you do not disobey me. Now I instructed you not to struggle.'
'Oh come on,' Maya pleaded, a huge smile on her face. 'You can't... that's not...'
'Every time you disobey me,' Lolara informed, a small, mean smile on her face, 'I will have to restrain you.'
Maya glanced over her shoulder at the equipment stacked in the corner of the room. 'I...'
'You have no choice in this. You did not do as you were told.'
Maya held glee, curiosity, and terror all in one expression. '...Oh my.'
Maya's feet quivered helplessly and desperately in the stocks as Lolara worked them over with a small, automatic, soapy brush, that oscillated at a rapid rate. It slid over the soft, vulnerable skin, spinning and tickling and spreading its lubricant. Maya was in constant hysterics, and twisted and writhed as much as she was permitted to do. She was sitting on the couch, her feet stretched off of the end and held in the wooden bondage apparatus. Abruptly Lolara switched back to using her fingers, which now slid teasingly over the moist skin. The change made Maya cackle madly. Tears fell from her eyes. Her hands trembled as they gripped the couch cushions.
She was not permitted to touch the stocks with her hands, nor to move her hands to the other side of the stocks. She was also not permitted to move around to the degree where the unfixed stocks tilted even so much as a couple of degrees off of the ground. It was this latter condition that she involuntarily broke.
When Lolara gently bit her toes, and flicked her tongue across their tips lightly, Maya scrunched up her face and let out a quick series of desperate, high pitched giggles, before wiggling from side to side to the point where the stocks rocked and knocked ever so slightly against the wooden flooring.
Lolara stopped.
Maya gasped, and took deep breaths, while stray laughs continued to assault her for a good few moments. Her cheeks were tear stained, and her dress showed marks of sweat. 'Sweet Vapors of Heaven,' she panted, 'I haven't exercised like this in years.' She chuckled at Lolara, who smiled back. The latter went and got her a drink of water, which she accepted with gratitude. 'How did you get so... amazingly good at this!'
Lolara shrugged. 'Manipulating nerves in my job.'
'A profession, clearly!' Maya let out a chuckle, her breath still heavy. Her expression changed back to that complicated compound of emotions. 'Dear Gods... what next? You're going to kill me.'
Lolara stroked the princess's hair. 'Don't worry. I've taken care of you so far, haven't I?'
Maya looked at her cutely, and nodded with a little smile.
'Yet you keep disobeying me.'
Maya laughed, then playfully lowered her eyes. 'Sorry mistress.'
'Oh, it's ok,' Lolara replied, returning the laugh. 'So long as you accept your punishment.'
'Yes ma-am,' Maya replied perkily, holding that same little smile.
Lolara attached a chain to a hook on the ceiling, then attached a bar to the chain. She then strapped Maya's wrists onto the bar, and fastened her feet into locks that were fixed to the floor. Maya was standing, arms up, legs spread, exposed.
'Please take care of me mistress,' whimpered Maya. She laughed afterwards. It was playfulness blended with a tiny little hint of genuine fear.
'Shh.' Lolara's breath came from behind, and was warm against her ear. She felt gentle hands touching her hair. 'Of course I will. Now listen carefully.'
Maya felt hands slide lovingly over her arms, her sides, her stomach, her hips. It was intimate, reassuring.
The warm voice returned, 'You are not permitted to say any words, starting now. You may laugh all you wish, but no distinguishable word is to be uttered. You understand?'
'Yes mistress.'
'Now now. What did I just say?'
Maya felt a sharp thrill when she realised her error.
'You have to be punished, you understand.'
Maya smiled, then nodded submissively.
Lolara proceeded to blindfold the girl and fit her with soft, comfortable but sound smothering earplugs.
Maya's world was cut off. She was suddenly very aware of her own breathing. Fear pulsed through her, through her chest, through her head, through her crotch. She began to feel a strong, almost obsessive affection for the woman on the other side of her blindfold. It was her trust for that woman, and her extreme feeling of vulnerability; it was her odd state of physical and psychological arousal, against the fear of the torment to come: it was all of that combined. Even now that woman's hands were caressing her over her dress, sliding over her buttocks, gently tickling the small of her back, stroking up towards her shoulders. As they had done so many times before in the massage parlor. But this time it wasn't just pleasure, wasn't just faintly denied arousal. It was love. Dangerous, hysterical, impersonal love. Oh tickle me, please! she cried inside her head. She wanted to say it out loud, wanted to say it so badly, but her desire not to disappoint her mistress was stronger.
The light tickling on her back moved round to her ribs. It made her squirm and giggle. Then it moved round to her stomach. Maya felt eight crawling points of sensation begin their slow, methodical job of turning her euphorically insane. Yes! she cried in her head, as laughter erupted from her mouth. But that brief burst of released tension was soon replaced as the tickling built up; as the fingers pulled at the strings of her soul, strings which happened to be located on the silky, smooth skin of her soft stomach. It was replaced with the old feeling of hysterical, desperate frustration; the gleeful unbearableness; the happy torture; the 'no no no I just can't take it anymore but don't actually stop, never stop, I simply can't laugh anymore but I want to laugh forever'.
Gods, her stomach was ticklish. She felt it tremble as it anticipated the next assault. The fingers would knead her lower ribs, circle around the ribs just behind her breasts, slide down to torture her waist, then invariably return to tease and torment her quivering, perfect stomach. She cackled and screamed and giggled and gasped incessantly. She was exhausted and ecstatic. The laughing, always laughing, was far too much and no where near enough.
Then she felt the hands slide down her hips and over her outer thighs. She giggled. The hands reached up inside her dress. She took in a tiny gasp. The hands rose, and the light, masterful touches began arrogantly toying with the backs of her knees. She squirmed and squealed, but of course couldn't escape it. The fingers were exploratory, indulgent; they tickled her legs with confidence, enjoyment and utter ruthlessness. Why, why are you doing this to me? she pleaded joyfully, as hot tears formed behind her blindfold. The fingers progressed upwards, skirting and dancing along her hamstrings and inner thighs. I can't stand it! I can't take it! They began stroking and teasing the skin of her buttocks. Ahhh! Maya giggled madly, trying to twist away from the sensation. The fingers persisted. The tips quickly strummed the super-soft, super-sensitive skin on the insides of the lower curves: the apex of her firm, fleshy globes. Maya felt her lungs rack themselves, felt every part of her boy tingle, and whimpered and cackled as her leg muscles tried in vain to twist and bring her thighs together. The fingers had a brilliant time reminding her that she couldn't do so. There was joy in their movements; they were never going to stop. She was going to die laughing, and they were going to love doing it to her.
Just then, the hands abruptly stopped and was replaced by both hands attacking her stomach mercilessly.
The shock made Maya scream and cackle. She felt that she was going to loose control of her bladder.
'Please, no!' she cried genuinely. 'Please, Lola, please, I can't, please!'
The tickling stopped.
Relief flooded through Maya. That flood of relief then turned to affection for the older woman, affection that infected Maya anew: she really was being well taken care of. She felt herself smile. 'Thank you,' she said sweetly, amidst her own panting. 'By all the stars and all the Gods,' she said with a chuckle, 'this has to be the most intense experience I've ever had.'
She felt the ear plugs being removed. 'I have found it somewhat intriguing myself,' came Lolara's voice, followed by a light laugh. 'Do you want another drink of water?'
'Actually... I would like to go to the bathroom. I mean, if that's ok, ma'am.'
'Of course,' Lolara replied with a laugh.
'Oh Gods,' groaned Maya with a grin, as Lolara tightened one of her leg straps. 'This one really is going to kill me.'
Lolara came over and stroked her hair, then kissed it. 'I will let nothing happen to you, child. And I promise you will be as happy as a puppy when it is over.'
Maya smiled cutely. 'What am I forbade to do this time mistress?'
'Oh you've disobeyed me far too many times, child,' Lolara replied with a grin. 'It's clear I need to teach you a harsh lesson, one that you will never forget.' She crouched down so as to look Maya in the eye, and gave her a stern, grinning, evil glance. 'One that will keep you in line.'
Maya felt arousal rush through her; it flushed her skin, stimulated her nerves. '...Oh dear.'
Her dress had been removed, and she was lying in her underwear, face down on a padded piece of two pieces of bondage equipment that were each half massage table, half xbar. One supported her pelvis and legs, the other her chest and arms; her entire weight was comfortably held up, but her stomach was left exposed. Her limbs were completely secured, and her head comfortably but firmly held down. Her toes were tied back. She could barely move anything.
'I love you,' she whispered as her head was temporarily unbound so that her blindfold could be replaced.
Lolara paused, then kissed her softly and slowly on the lips. 'I love you too child.' She smiled, then applied the blindfold and firmly replaced Maya's head. She put in the earplugs.
Maya received a short but pleasurable massage, one that briefly worked over her entire body. The slick oil and the confident pressure were exquisite, particularly on her feet. She could feel herself opening up, feel her nerves surrendering to the other woman even more. She was going to be taught one hell of a lesson. She moaned a tiny moan in reaction to the massaging, sensuous hands, and her pelvis moved unconsciously. Her whole body was eager and receptive.
The tickling started.
It did not take Maya long to enter a state of hysterical delirium. If the tickling had stopped and she had been asked her name, she wouldn't have been able to answer. Her body had resigned itself to eternal torture, submitted entirely, and her mind was powerless against her nerves' cruel, yielding cooperation with the tickling hands. Dancing on her knees, kneading her thighs, brushing her buttocks, squeezing her sides, circling her ribs, playing under her arms, stomach, stomach, stomach, feet, feet, feet. Sometimes she felt that she might get a respite, that her nerves might start to resist, but the confident, insistent fingers would seduce them once again, and she would be left hopeless, stranded, doomed to laugh as long as the fingers decided she should. And they never stopped. And they never would stop. Again, she could feel it in the way they moved. They enjoyed her hopelessness, fed off of her submission; the more she begged for mercy, the more hysterical she became, the more they enjoyed it. But she couldn't stop begging: it was too much. But they would torture her, and she would laugh and cry, and they would torture her more, and she would beg and tremble, and they would grow in confidence each time, and torture her more.
'Gods, save me!' she croaked before more silent laughter racked her. The oily fingertips were slipping over her stomach rapidly. She took in a heavily trembling breath through her permanently grinning mouth, and her eyebrows drew back in desperation. Laughter exploded out of her again, along with the words, 'It won't stop!'
The device from before began working over her feet again. Maya cried and screamed, and felt a steadily building pressure in her crotch. As the soft, soapy bristles moved over her soles freely and she cackled her sanity away, she unconsciously tried to grind her pelvis against the xbar, but found no friction there to satisfy her. That continued for some time, and she was completely oblivious in her tickle-warped mind to her own erotic movements. Then the tickling stopped. She panted and felt her strained facial muscles relax slightly.
'Help me, I don't see...' She giggled. 'Help me, anyone,' trembled her smiling voice, 'I can't see... where's the... the fingers are...' She laughed suddenly in shock as a firm hand lifted up her pelvic area, then let it drop. Something had been placed there, something that curved up around from under her and covered her crotch. It was bumpy, the bumps large and round. It started vibrating.
Suddenly the tickling on her feet began again. She cried out and shook all over, and immediately and unconsciously resumed rotating her pelvis. Now the spot that she automatically sought to stimulate found the buzzing, protruding, smooth bumps of the object, and it ground against them firmly and mercilessly.
'Ahaha, huugh, huughahaha!' She moaned and gasped and laughed, moaned and gasped and laughed, the non-stop tickling malevolently tweezing the rich tapestry of nerves on her feet, which in turn flooded sensation to her crotch, which in turn moved with increasing speed and pleasure against the heavenly object. She wished she could move more.
'Oh sweet mercy!' she cried out as the pleasure shot up. She trembled and convulsed as she struggled to keep pressing herself against the object, and half-laughed as the tickling continued. 'Oh! Oh! Ha, augh!' She rode up the apex of the curve, up, up...
The orgasm swooped down mightily and soared through her on giant wings. The tickling was like electricity that ran through it, charged it. She cried out with desperate pleasure as her crotch exploded and her feet trembled. The wings beat at the air, powerful, majestic.
Then the pleasure, as the tide goes back down the beach, subsided, drew back.
She let out a slow, shaky groan. She was vaguely aware of the tickling stopping. She trembled all over, lost in her dark, silent, delirious world. After a moment of nothing, she started crying. She sobbed and wept. She felt a hand caress her hair and touch her neck, and lips kiss the top of her head.
She was unbound. Lolara just hugged her for a while as her mind recovered, and though the tears came for a while, they eventually stopped.
'Thank you,' she whispered to Lolara, eventually.
Lolara kissed her gently.
'Sir! The enemy line was pushed back by our advance, sir! The men fought like lions!'
'Don't get too drunk on the moment,' the officer's deep voice drawled. 'We have a long way to go yet.' He lit a cigar, and took a deep puff. 'A long way.'
THE END.
A young, blonde soldier walked briskly into the spacious office. 'Sir, the research on the Princess has come back.'
The officer, in his late forties, a silvered beard decorating his angular face, raised an eyebrow.
'The report came in this morning, sir.'
'Speak,' the officer replied.
'Well, it appears the magic she exudes on the populace is mostly subconscious. It is in an early stage of development due to her age.'
The officer nodded.
'It seems the degree of positive influence she imparts depends largely on her endorphin levels.'
'I see.'
'And while the war is going so badly, she of course is in a very stressed and melancholy state.'
'...Have drugs been ruled out?'
'The doctors say that the negative tail end effect of 'happy' drugs would nullify any initial benefit, and perhaps make the situation worse.'
'Could we simply help her be happy? Keep her with people she likes, keep her occupied?'
'The doctors do not believe that while the enemy is closing in on us that we could enhance her mood by any such means.'
The officer resumed rubbing his beard. He grumbled and shook his head. 'Such a cruel spiral.' He paused briefly, then said in a grim tone, 'Perhaps it would be best to kill her. If she can have no good effect, better that she has no effect at all.'
The soldier's eyes shifted. 'She is... the King would never agree, sir.'
'Her despair will lose us this war!' the officer replied instantly, banging his fist on the table. He took a deep breath, and let it out as a sigh. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited a moment. 'Is there no way to alter her hormone levels without using aggressive drugs?'
'I do not know, sir.'
'Ask the doctors. I want to know every possible option.'
'Yes sir.' The soldier saluted and left.
'...Tickle her?'
'It seems to be the best option,' said the doctor. 'We can give her mood altering drugs to flatten her out, but that would not have a similar positive effect. Laughing gas would be another option, but we have none here, and as you know, all of our supply lines are cut.'
The officer frowned deeply. '...She will agree to it?'
'Given the circumstance... does it matter?'
The officer locked eyes with the doctor for a good long moment, then nodded. 'We will need the King's permission, though. How long will it continue working?'
'Theoretically, so long as she is given breaks, entertainment, adequate social contact, enough food and water etc etc, we can continue the therapy indefinitely.'
The officer nodded again, then addressed his lieutenant, 'Put the papers before the King. Emphasise that she will be well taken care of, that it will cause her no bodily harm, and that it is imperative for the war effort. As soon as his pen hits the paper, I want her here.'
'...And I am in no position to refuse?' The princess's voice was angry but melodic. Her eyebrows were drawn down. Her long blonde hair fell far beyond her shoulders, and her dress hugged closely her slim, modestly curved form. Her hands wrung against the wooden chair she was in. She was twenty two.
'Princess Maya, the doctors assure me it is not too unpleasant an experience. It will, after all, be positively effecting your hormone balance.'
'It is a form of abuse!'
The officer just shrugged.
'I must protest.'
'It could prove very helpful in the coming war.'
'This is madness! It cannot help! Things are truly even worse than I thought, if these are the straws at which our generals are clutching!'
The officer took in a deep breath. 'The results will be better, the doctors say, if you participate willingly.'
The princess shook her head and held her frown as her eyes searched the office.
'Right, um... ok. I'm ready.'
The princess was sitting on a couch in a warmly coloured room with another woman. A gentle orange light glowed in the centre of the ceiling. An array of bondage and tickling equipment was discreetly packed in a corner of the room, behind the couch and out of the princesses immediate line of sight. Other hints that this was a hastily converted interrogation chamber were apparent, though still discreet, and the princess had not been told as much. The other woman was called Lolara, a handsome, firm faced woman in her early forties, who was the most experienced palace masseuse, and who had serviced the princess personally many times. The princess had a lot of respect and affection for her.
'Ok. Maya, give me your foot,' Lolara said, kindly but firmly.
The princess gingerly did as she was told. Her silk dress slid against her pale skin as she turned and placed her feet on Lolara's lap.
'Good girl. Now just relax.' She ran her hands gently over Maya's shins and ankles.
Maya took in a deep, quivering breath, and blew it out slowly.
Lolara ran a quick finger down Maya's sole.
'Oh Gods!' Maya yelped, jerking her foot back.
'Now child, you must not struggle.'
'But...'
'Do as you are told.' Again, her tone was kind, but immovably firm.
''Y-yes, ma'am.' The woman timidly placed her feet back on Lolara's lap.
Lolara began gently skirting the fingertips of her left hand over Maya's feet, while holding the girl's ankles in place with the gripping strength of her right.
'Oh Gods! Oh!' Maya's mouth shot open and she started laughing hysterically. 'Stop it!' She reached out a hand in protest, still laughing, though she didn't physically struggle. 'Stop!' She broke out in fresh, gleeful laughter, arching her back as she did.
Lolara's busy fingertips moved up and focused on the balls and toes of Maya's feet.
'Oh, mercy!' cried Maya, before her face became contorted in silent laughter. Then she said in a pleading tone, as Lolara's fingers moved back to her arches, in words half formed around strained laughs, 'What are you doing to me?'
Lolara continued to play with Maya's soft feet, moving across her heels and then over her insteps and on to the tops of her toes, before attacking the balls again.
As Lolara made that last move, Maya abruptly yanked her feet away, eyes almost teary. 'I cannot,' she said, grinning. 'I'm sorry.' She wiped her eyes. A few stray giggles found their way out.
Lolara gave her a stern look.
'I cannot!' Maya exclaimed, chuckling. 'It is simply impossible. I can't take anymore.'
'Child, you do not disobey me. Now I instructed you not to struggle.'
'Oh come on,' Maya pleaded, a huge smile on her face. 'You can't... that's not...'
'Every time you disobey me,' Lolara informed, a small, mean smile on her face, 'I will have to restrain you.'
Maya glanced over her shoulder at the equipment stacked in the corner of the room. 'I...'
'You have no choice in this. You did not do as you were told.'
Maya held glee, curiosity, and terror all in one expression. '...Oh my.'
Maya's feet quivered helplessly and desperately in the stocks as Lolara worked them over with a small, automatic, soapy brush, that oscillated at a rapid rate. It slid over the soft, vulnerable skin, spinning and tickling and spreading its lubricant. Maya was in constant hysterics, and twisted and writhed as much as she was permitted to do. She was sitting on the couch, her feet stretched off of the end and held in the wooden bondage apparatus. Abruptly Lolara switched back to using her fingers, which now slid teasingly over the moist skin. The change made Maya cackle madly. Tears fell from her eyes. Her hands trembled as they gripped the couch cushions.
She was not permitted to touch the stocks with her hands, nor to move her hands to the other side of the stocks. She was also not permitted to move around to the degree where the unfixed stocks tilted even so much as a couple of degrees off of the ground. It was this latter condition that she involuntarily broke.
When Lolara gently bit her toes, and flicked her tongue across their tips lightly, Maya scrunched up her face and let out a quick series of desperate, high pitched giggles, before wiggling from side to side to the point where the stocks rocked and knocked ever so slightly against the wooden flooring.
Lolara stopped.
Maya gasped, and took deep breaths, while stray laughs continued to assault her for a good few moments. Her cheeks were tear stained, and her dress showed marks of sweat. 'Sweet Vapors of Heaven,' she panted, 'I haven't exercised like this in years.' She chuckled at Lolara, who smiled back. The latter went and got her a drink of water, which she accepted with gratitude. 'How did you get so... amazingly good at this!'
Lolara shrugged. 'Manipulating nerves in my job.'
'A profession, clearly!' Maya let out a chuckle, her breath still heavy. Her expression changed back to that complicated compound of emotions. 'Dear Gods... what next? You're going to kill me.'
Lolara stroked the princess's hair. 'Don't worry. I've taken care of you so far, haven't I?'
Maya looked at her cutely, and nodded with a little smile.
'Yet you keep disobeying me.'
Maya laughed, then playfully lowered her eyes. 'Sorry mistress.'
'Oh, it's ok,' Lolara replied, returning the laugh. 'So long as you accept your punishment.'
'Yes ma-am,' Maya replied perkily, holding that same little smile.
Lolara attached a chain to a hook on the ceiling, then attached a bar to the chain. She then strapped Maya's wrists onto the bar, and fastened her feet into locks that were fixed to the floor. Maya was standing, arms up, legs spread, exposed.
'Please take care of me mistress,' whimpered Maya. She laughed afterwards. It was playfulness blended with a tiny little hint of genuine fear.
'Shh.' Lolara's breath came from behind, and was warm against her ear. She felt gentle hands touching her hair. 'Of course I will. Now listen carefully.'
Maya felt hands slide lovingly over her arms, her sides, her stomach, her hips. It was intimate, reassuring.
The warm voice returned, 'You are not permitted to say any words, starting now. You may laugh all you wish, but no distinguishable word is to be uttered. You understand?'
'Yes mistress.'
'Now now. What did I just say?'
Maya felt a sharp thrill when she realised her error.
'You have to be punished, you understand.'
Maya smiled, then nodded submissively.
Lolara proceeded to blindfold the girl and fit her with soft, comfortable but sound smothering earplugs.
Maya's world was cut off. She was suddenly very aware of her own breathing. Fear pulsed through her, through her chest, through her head, through her crotch. She began to feel a strong, almost obsessive affection for the woman on the other side of her blindfold. It was her trust for that woman, and her extreme feeling of vulnerability; it was her odd state of physical and psychological arousal, against the fear of the torment to come: it was all of that combined. Even now that woman's hands were caressing her over her dress, sliding over her buttocks, gently tickling the small of her back, stroking up towards her shoulders. As they had done so many times before in the massage parlor. But this time it wasn't just pleasure, wasn't just faintly denied arousal. It was love. Dangerous, hysterical, impersonal love. Oh tickle me, please! she cried inside her head. She wanted to say it out loud, wanted to say it so badly, but her desire not to disappoint her mistress was stronger.
The light tickling on her back moved round to her ribs. It made her squirm and giggle. Then it moved round to her stomach. Maya felt eight crawling points of sensation begin their slow, methodical job of turning her euphorically insane. Yes! she cried in her head, as laughter erupted from her mouth. But that brief burst of released tension was soon replaced as the tickling built up; as the fingers pulled at the strings of her soul, strings which happened to be located on the silky, smooth skin of her soft stomach. It was replaced with the old feeling of hysterical, desperate frustration; the gleeful unbearableness; the happy torture; the 'no no no I just can't take it anymore but don't actually stop, never stop, I simply can't laugh anymore but I want to laugh forever'.
Gods, her stomach was ticklish. She felt it tremble as it anticipated the next assault. The fingers would knead her lower ribs, circle around the ribs just behind her breasts, slide down to torture her waist, then invariably return to tease and torment her quivering, perfect stomach. She cackled and screamed and giggled and gasped incessantly. She was exhausted and ecstatic. The laughing, always laughing, was far too much and no where near enough.
Then she felt the hands slide down her hips and over her outer thighs. She giggled. The hands reached up inside her dress. She took in a tiny gasp. The hands rose, and the light, masterful touches began arrogantly toying with the backs of her knees. She squirmed and squealed, but of course couldn't escape it. The fingers were exploratory, indulgent; they tickled her legs with confidence, enjoyment and utter ruthlessness. Why, why are you doing this to me? she pleaded joyfully, as hot tears formed behind her blindfold. The fingers progressed upwards, skirting and dancing along her hamstrings and inner thighs. I can't stand it! I can't take it! They began stroking and teasing the skin of her buttocks. Ahhh! Maya giggled madly, trying to twist away from the sensation. The fingers persisted. The tips quickly strummed the super-soft, super-sensitive skin on the insides of the lower curves: the apex of her firm, fleshy globes. Maya felt her lungs rack themselves, felt every part of her boy tingle, and whimpered and cackled as her leg muscles tried in vain to twist and bring her thighs together. The fingers had a brilliant time reminding her that she couldn't do so. There was joy in their movements; they were never going to stop. She was going to die laughing, and they were going to love doing it to her.
Just then, the hands abruptly stopped and was replaced by both hands attacking her stomach mercilessly.
The shock made Maya scream and cackle. She felt that she was going to loose control of her bladder.
'Please, no!' she cried genuinely. 'Please, Lola, please, I can't, please!'
The tickling stopped.
Relief flooded through Maya. That flood of relief then turned to affection for the older woman, affection that infected Maya anew: she really was being well taken care of. She felt herself smile. 'Thank you,' she said sweetly, amidst her own panting. 'By all the stars and all the Gods,' she said with a chuckle, 'this has to be the most intense experience I've ever had.'
She felt the ear plugs being removed. 'I have found it somewhat intriguing myself,' came Lolara's voice, followed by a light laugh. 'Do you want another drink of water?'
'Actually... I would like to go to the bathroom. I mean, if that's ok, ma'am.'
'Of course,' Lolara replied with a laugh.
'Oh Gods,' groaned Maya with a grin, as Lolara tightened one of her leg straps. 'This one really is going to kill me.'
Lolara came over and stroked her hair, then kissed it. 'I will let nothing happen to you, child. And I promise you will be as happy as a puppy when it is over.'
Maya smiled cutely. 'What am I forbade to do this time mistress?'
'Oh you've disobeyed me far too many times, child,' Lolara replied with a grin. 'It's clear I need to teach you a harsh lesson, one that you will never forget.' She crouched down so as to look Maya in the eye, and gave her a stern, grinning, evil glance. 'One that will keep you in line.'
Maya felt arousal rush through her; it flushed her skin, stimulated her nerves. '...Oh dear.'
Her dress had been removed, and she was lying in her underwear, face down on a padded piece of two pieces of bondage equipment that were each half massage table, half xbar. One supported her pelvis and legs, the other her chest and arms; her entire weight was comfortably held up, but her stomach was left exposed. Her limbs were completely secured, and her head comfortably but firmly held down. Her toes were tied back. She could barely move anything.
'I love you,' she whispered as her head was temporarily unbound so that her blindfold could be replaced.
Lolara paused, then kissed her softly and slowly on the lips. 'I love you too child.' She smiled, then applied the blindfold and firmly replaced Maya's head. She put in the earplugs.
Maya received a short but pleasurable massage, one that briefly worked over her entire body. The slick oil and the confident pressure were exquisite, particularly on her feet. She could feel herself opening up, feel her nerves surrendering to the other woman even more. She was going to be taught one hell of a lesson. She moaned a tiny moan in reaction to the massaging, sensuous hands, and her pelvis moved unconsciously. Her whole body was eager and receptive.
The tickling started.
It did not take Maya long to enter a state of hysterical delirium. If the tickling had stopped and she had been asked her name, she wouldn't have been able to answer. Her body had resigned itself to eternal torture, submitted entirely, and her mind was powerless against her nerves' cruel, yielding cooperation with the tickling hands. Dancing on her knees, kneading her thighs, brushing her buttocks, squeezing her sides, circling her ribs, playing under her arms, stomach, stomach, stomach, feet, feet, feet. Sometimes she felt that she might get a respite, that her nerves might start to resist, but the confident, insistent fingers would seduce them once again, and she would be left hopeless, stranded, doomed to laugh as long as the fingers decided she should. And they never stopped. And they never would stop. Again, she could feel it in the way they moved. They enjoyed her hopelessness, fed off of her submission; the more she begged for mercy, the more hysterical she became, the more they enjoyed it. But she couldn't stop begging: it was too much. But they would torture her, and she would laugh and cry, and they would torture her more, and she would beg and tremble, and they would grow in confidence each time, and torture her more.
'Gods, save me!' she croaked before more silent laughter racked her. The oily fingertips were slipping over her stomach rapidly. She took in a heavily trembling breath through her permanently grinning mouth, and her eyebrows drew back in desperation. Laughter exploded out of her again, along with the words, 'It won't stop!'
The device from before began working over her feet again. Maya cried and screamed, and felt a steadily building pressure in her crotch. As the soft, soapy bristles moved over her soles freely and she cackled her sanity away, she unconsciously tried to grind her pelvis against the xbar, but found no friction there to satisfy her. That continued for some time, and she was completely oblivious in her tickle-warped mind to her own erotic movements. Then the tickling stopped. She panted and felt her strained facial muscles relax slightly.
'Help me, I don't see...' She giggled. 'Help me, anyone,' trembled her smiling voice, 'I can't see... where's the... the fingers are...' She laughed suddenly in shock as a firm hand lifted up her pelvic area, then let it drop. Something had been placed there, something that curved up around from under her and covered her crotch. It was bumpy, the bumps large and round. It started vibrating.
Suddenly the tickling on her feet began again. She cried out and shook all over, and immediately and unconsciously resumed rotating her pelvis. Now the spot that she automatically sought to stimulate found the buzzing, protruding, smooth bumps of the object, and it ground against them firmly and mercilessly.
'Ahaha, huugh, huughahaha!' She moaned and gasped and laughed, moaned and gasped and laughed, the non-stop tickling malevolently tweezing the rich tapestry of nerves on her feet, which in turn flooded sensation to her crotch, which in turn moved with increasing speed and pleasure against the heavenly object. She wished she could move more.
'Oh sweet mercy!' she cried out as the pleasure shot up. She trembled and convulsed as she struggled to keep pressing herself against the object, and half-laughed as the tickling continued. 'Oh! Oh! Ha, augh!' She rode up the apex of the curve, up, up...
The orgasm swooped down mightily and soared through her on giant wings. The tickling was like electricity that ran through it, charged it. She cried out with desperate pleasure as her crotch exploded and her feet trembled. The wings beat at the air, powerful, majestic.
Then the pleasure, as the tide goes back down the beach, subsided, drew back.
She let out a slow, shaky groan. She was vaguely aware of the tickling stopping. She trembled all over, lost in her dark, silent, delirious world. After a moment of nothing, she started crying. She sobbed and wept. She felt a hand caress her hair and touch her neck, and lips kiss the top of her head.
She was unbound. Lolara just hugged her for a while as her mind recovered, and though the tears came for a while, they eventually stopped.
'Thank you,' she whispered to Lolara, eventually.
Lolara kissed her gently.
'Sir! The enemy line was pushed back by our advance, sir! The men fought like lions!'
'Don't get too drunk on the moment,' the officer's deep voice drawled. 'We have a long way to go yet.' He lit a cigar, and took a deep puff. 'A long way.'
THE END.
