-Chronicled by sister Menida, formerly scribe to rightful queen Eleanora and slave to the foreign usurper Thaira. Written in court of empress Jutta II in the 1499th year of our era.-
In the 1494th year of our era, I was appointed by the Sisterhood to service of the royal Grefsgratt family, noble house that was granted the dominion over the northern borderlands by the Empress in the 1302nd year of our era. I was to serve as one of the scribes in the queen Eleanora’s administration and to assist priestesses of the Sisterhood in their sacred duties. However, as has already been chronicled before my account, the 1494th year was also the year of great calamity, as it also saw the horrifying barbarian army led by their self-proclaimed queen Thaira descend upon the Grefsgratt realm.As it’s known, the usurping conqueror Thaira now rules in the northern capital Eldburg, has subjugated most of old borderlands to her rule and has pushed even deeper, threatening even heartlands of the Empire. Worst of all, she has brought her people’s wretched customs of tickle torture with her, sparing nobody from their ruthlessness and cruelty - something I’ve experienced myself too. While all that is known, only I, sister Menida, have been witness to Thaira’s invasion and reign, and only I have been able to both watch her reign from close and escape her clutches to tell what I have seen of her tyranny to the civilized world.
Prior to the conquest, Greffsgratt dynasty had upheld the peace in the North, as in their agreement with her majesty’s the Empresses ancestor. The formerly wild northern empire had been pacified of brigands and untamed woodlands proved no safe haven for renegades anymore. Ancient forests were purged of foul magical cults and the threat of northern raiders to the empire was all but eliminated. The barbarian raids for slaves - mainly for purposes of tickling in their unholy ceremonies and as personally owned tickle slaves -, food and gold still occurred, but with rapid retaliations and counter-raids to their icy domain we were lulled into dangerous security. We thought that the commonly infighting barbarians would inevitably weaken, meaning that their warlike nature could not sustain their lust for riches and tickle slaves anymore in their harsh homeland and remaining barbarians would travel southwards in peace and integrate to the Empire in coming decades.
Oh, how wrong we were.
We know not what forgotten sorceries and long lost vaults she had discovered to aid her in her deeds there, but mysterious barbarian Thaira emerged from the farthest and coldest reaches of north, clad in armor decorated with magical runes, and by her charisma, physical prowess and newfound exceptional control of elemental magic convinced - or subjugated - divided and weak barbarian tribes to unite. Chieftesses were stripped of their traditional positions, and all barbarians swore their loyalty to their great unifier, Thaira, who proclaimed herself a queen and promised her subject all they’ve ever desired - fertile land, riches and slaves. Thus, they set their sights South, and marched forth.
To my great shame I must admit that we were completely unprepared for their onslaught. Once we first heard reports of barbarians ransacking homesteads and hounding travelers, we presumed it to be a regular raiding party. The military patrol sent to deal with them never returned, until they were brought back to the gates of capital with the barbarian army - restrained to their banners carried by brawny barbarians, stripped from their armors, and tickled by long feather-tipped spears of the savages.It alone brought fear to the hearts of defenders on the walls, their screams of ticklish terror raising above the ominous war chants of the barbarian horde.
Before her troops marched Thaira herself, fearsome warrior towering several head’s heights above even the tallest of her barbaric sisters in arms, with sword in her hand and her enchanted armor worn like she was making mockery of it - it was dismantled, and pieces of it were crudely attached together and tied with ropes to only cover her breasts and womanhood, it’s magical runes glowing red against the grey steel. Her muscular body with unnervingly pale skin was almost entirely exposed, her alabaster complexion contrasted by her fluttering raven black hair and furious dark eyes. Her wild kin was dressed in similar fashion, but in primitive armors, leathers, furs and various torn armors and clothes clearly stolen from our soldiers and subjects - their ragged condition reminding us that their unfortunate original owners were without a doubt forcibly stripped naked and tickled within an inch of their lives prior to their enslavement by barbarians.
Thaira’s elemental magic - certainly given to her by disgraced relics she was wearing - was nothing unheard of. Given proper studies and preparations, our fine enchantress sisters and sorceresses can practice similar magic with some dedication and discipline. But woe was us, for northern holdings had not prepared to encounter magical foes - barbarians have traditionally avoided sorcery like plague and old nature magic cults had been crushed in the North ages ago.We had no powerful magics by our side, for Empire’s strong mages are assigned where they are needed the most, which hardly was the North, which we thought to be won. I tried my best to aid the defenders - I rushed to the temple with haste, to aid the elder sisters in their hasty rituals to form protective wards. We didn’t have magical weaponry or proper ingredients for stronger spells, and what we could conjure were outmatched by Thaira’s elemental attacks - lightning broke our shields, fire burned the ballistas and cold blizzards forced our outnumbered defenders to rout. The destruction was swift and even our gate was brought down by a giant explosion along with strategic thinner spots in the walls, and barbarians flooded into the city. We presume that captive soldiers had told all about our defenses to the enemy. I cannot hate them for breaking under barbarian torture. I knew I could not stand their tickle torture, and at that moment, to my horror, falling into their hands was only matter of time. Some of the defenders regrouped into the narrow city streets, moralized by their noble officers and some of my sisters, but they could not hold the enemy back. I heard they all got overrun, their weapons were broken, and the human wave of enemies practically absorbed them - their outfits, were they armors or robes, were torn off and they were left in barbarian hands, dragged away to be gang tickled. Meanwhile, the main horde pressed on. I was not there to see it. I was running for my life towards the castle with the townsfolk that had not yet fallen into enemy hands. Pitiful laughter and screams of those who had followed among the sounds of fighting.
It was a lost cause. we did make it within the castle, vulnerable to attack now that the city walls had been lost. Our lady, queen Eleanora, tried to lead the final resistance in vain. Thaira herself led the assault on her estate, and after disarming her of her sword, managed to wrestle her to the ground in ruthless hand-to-hand combat. I will never forget the sound of Eleanora’s laughter. It was like a primordial scream, our always so proud, calm and resolute queen broke into cackling hysteria the moment Thaira pinned her down and began tickling her through her dress - our queen didn’t even have time to get her armor brought to her from the armory. Her famous red hair was thrashing wildly and her precious crown fell to the ground as conquering brute’s hands dug into the blue silk, tearing it off to reach the queen’s bare skin. That seemed to drive her mad - her struggling tenfolded and her demands to be let go turned into pleading for mercy. Her face turned red from helpless laughter and humiliation, and for the first time we saw a smile on the face of the invader. I was watching this terrible spectacle from behind the royal throne, accompanying few of the courtiers and the royal family itself who had eluded capture until the last stand.
I and the courtiers did our best to shield the royalty from the savages, but we were easily torn away and forced to watch as barbarians captured the queen’s sister and three daughters. Furthermore, we were helpless as the invaders immediately began tickling them. The four redheaded beauties joined the queen in their ticklish hysteria as the barbarians made the highborne ladies into nothing but tickle toys. Their clothes torn, their delicate, vulnerable and sensitive bodies exposed to the world, assault of endless ruthless fingers exploring their pale, smooth skin as they desperately pleaded for it to cease and shouted panicky prayers to the heavens, before succumbing to only incoherent screams and laughter.
My memories of the next day or so are blurred into one long, ticklish nightmare I could not wake up from. I was passed from a group of savage barbarians to another, pinned down and tickled, my robe long since torn off and my sacred violated… They recognized me as a member of the holy Sisterhood, and seemed to enjoy not only making me scream in laughter, but of forcing me to moan, making me experience pleasures of flesh against my will… Their hands were tickling, groping and teasing, I only survived the ordeal sane through silently reciting my holy wows in my mind. They would not break my spirit. I promised it to myself.
As mercy of fate - cruel mercy, as I would discover - my status as holy sister would also deliver me from my first torturers. I was mostly held in the banquet hall along with many other captive courtiers, maids and fetching commoner girls that were dragged to the castle from the city or surrounding countryside, all of us made into conqueror’s playthings. A high ranking barbarian, their quartermaster named Lyla, ordered me to be brought to her. I was overjoyed to leave that hall of torment, though I shed tears for all the poor souls still left in there. I heard their cries echoing in the hallways for a long time while being taken to the barracks. Barbarians had made it theirs, wearing armors of our little troops and distributing their weapons among themselves. They weren’t here to ransack and then leave. They were here to stay, and staying means administrating. Sisters such as myself are literate, trained to aid our noble ladies in managing their realms. And aid these savages needed, as they were not used to govern. I hope I can one day forgive myself for collaborating with the enemy, but I did not have any choice. It was made clear that I was either to serve Lyla personally, or I would be returned as a tickle pet of barbarian warriors. I didn’t know then - and didn’t even really care - why Lyla had requested me specifically, since there were more experienced Sisters in their hands, but I would soon learn of the wicked desires of this blonde strongwoman.
One of my first duties as scribe to the invaders was to, as Lyla said, “take care of formalities”. I don’t know if she really knew what it even meant, but Thaira had - and has - a vision. She wanted a formal surrender from queen Eleanora, actual transfer of power and as good solidification of her new reign in the eyes of the people as she could possibly get. And it was obvious that the queen wasn’t going to submit easily. After I had been given a skimpy outfit that barely covered my chest and a skirt feeling more like a loincloth, a slave’s outfit I’ve been told, Lyla led me down to the castle dungeons where the royal family was being held. Their predicament was worst of all, no amount of respect for their nobility was shown.
The most skilled and cruel torturers in Thaira’s employ had been tickling the queen and her captive relatives since the castle was taken. As I was dragged away to be a tickle toy in banquet hall, the hapless royals were locked away in their own dungeon to suffer atrocious torture. The Grefsgratt is not renown for their flaming red hairs only, they’re also known - though spoken mostly in embarrassed yet admiring whispers - for their exceptionally ample bosoms, something that also runs in their family. This was not missed by barbarian fiends, and unfortunately for the royal family, they had also discovered that their breasts are their ticklish weakness.
I was taken by Lyla to witness their tortures multiple times. She said it was because I had to write down the queen’s surrender once she breaks, but I suspect it was more because she enjoyed my terror of seeing it. She loved seeing me shivering and pale, and must have known that it made me more obedient. Heavens forgive me, but I knew I could never stand being at mercy of those evil barbarian jailors for a moment.
The royals were kept in a single large torch lit prison cell, which had been converted into a torture chamber. In the center of the room, queen Eleanora and her younger sister, always so spiritual and pious Lisbeth, were tied back to back against a pole, their arms bound to wrists of each other and their elbows restrained to the pole itself. Additional ropes were tying them to the pole, one wrapped around their waists, one just below their breasts, and two more over their thighs and ankles, leaving their legs spread. Three torturers were assigned to tickle both Eleanora and Lisbeth, their bosoms the main focus of their cruelty. They would run feathers all over them while taunting them for their hardened nipples that received excruciating attention as well, and I’m not speaking about feathers used in our writing quills or in cleaning dusters of servants. No, they were using torture instruments from their own lands, fur gloves where at tip of every finger there was a long black feather belonging to birds of their native north. In my prior peril, one of the warriors tickling me had much rejoiced in extracting forced mirth out of me by spinning just one of such feathers in my belly button, and it almost drove me out of my mind. I can’t even imagine how several of those atrocious things could feel on such sensitive spots, and judging by reactions of the queen and her sister, no imagination can match the ticklish agony those poor women must have been going through. They were trashing their heads around in utter hysteria, their cackling laughter almost made into just screaming. It was obvious that barbarians didn’t expect the queen to surrender during torture sessions. There’s no way she could have been able to form any words while being tickled. Poor Lisbeth still tried, and to this day I’m not sure if they were attempts of pleas for mercy or desperate prayers. Like this wasn’t enough, both of the noble ladies had a third northwoman kneeling in front of them, using their single feathers to masterfully tease and tickle their womanhoods. I had heard that the barbarians used climax denial as part of their torture, especially in their depraved religious rituals. The savages given this task indeed seemed like shamans, humming their blasphemous incantations as they worked their dark art with the feathers, doing everything they could to drive the queen and her sister over the edge to complete submission.
By the wall opposite to the queen, another deranged play was being acted out. The three daughters of queen Eleanora, princesses Anja, Suzan and Miriam, were chained against the wall from their wrists and ankles. Under their mother’s eyes, they were being tickle tortured by an ever changing crew of barbarians, often at least two making a single girl scream in laughter. They indeed shared their apparent familial weakness of unbearable sensitive breasts, but were getting tickled all over their bodies. Their ribs, hips, bellies, under their arms, their thighs and knees, some temporarily unshackling their ankles to tickle soles of their feet… Their fair, pampered bodies were free game to these sadists. Their tickle torture wasn’t focused on specific spots, suggesting that they were there to suffer just to further pressure their mother the queen into submission. And suffer they did. Occasionally when they got enough of a break to gather their composure, they sometimes would raise their heads towards their tortured mother, begging her to just give the barbarians what they want, to just make it all stop. But alas, it went on. For almost two weeks, our brave queen held out.
The moment of Eleanora’s surrender was also the first moment when I saw the self proclaimed queen Thaira in person - for the first time since the assault on Elburg. She was sitting on the throne, wearing the same armor she did on that day, but was wearing the Northern crown she had seized, and had gotten an ornamental cloak made for herself. I later heard that she had forced finest tailor in the town to craft it on threat of tickle slavery not only for herself but all of her kin. I can’t blame people who must choose to obey her. The penalty for it is terrible. That terrible price had already been paid by queen Eleanora. She was brought to the throne room from the dungeon, still naked, her magnificent hair messy and her face profoundly stained by sweat and uncountable tears. Her arms were still bound behind her back as she slowly walked in front of Thaira and kneeled, clearly holding back tears as she declared her titles forfeit and surrendered to her victor. She relinquished her authority over any of her subjects, which were now transferred to Thaira. Finally, she came to the final term for surrender that her torturers had tirelessly been trying to make her agree on. Final term, which was the reason she held on this long. She looked like she could still have resistance in her. Like she wanted to defy Thaira with all her heart. But she didn’t. Breaking into sobbing, she publicly announced that her youngest daughter, Miriam, would be given to Thaira as her consort. I wrote this all down to official documents with a shaking hand. It didn’t seem real. To see the benevolent and proud ruler of these lands broken like that. To see queen Eleanora surrender her realm and her beloved daughter to a foreigner in any circumstances. Eleanora’s arms were untied, and she walked to me with quivering legs. Without saying a word, she took the quill, and with hands much more shaky than mine she signed it. Upon this moment Thaira stood up and laughed. She gave her first orders as official victor. That Miriam will be brought out of the dungeon, but to leave the others there. Her booming voice made my heart race with fear, but Eleanora felt more than that with that announcement. She dropped on her knees again and resumed sobbing. She turned into the barbarian queen, tearfully begging her to let herself, her sister and her two elder daughters go. She swore they would never come to these lands again, they would never challenge her claim to these lands. Thaira answered by ordering the queen to be seized. Eleanora descended into crazed panic as she ordered barbaric guards to take her back to the torture chamber as well. I’ve never seen anyone kicking and screaming with such desperation - despite being exhausted by long days of inhumane tickle torture, she fought like a wild beast. Tried to do anything she could to not be brought back into that dungeon of horrors. She had tried to stand it for so long, tried to protect her dear Miriam from this fate, and had broken in the end… But for what? Only for Miriam to be given to this brute, and for her family to still suffer for the rest of their lives. This was Thaira’s rule. Tyranny and torment.
The bonding ceremony of Thaira and Miriam took place the next day. Poor girl had just seen her eighteenth birthday last winter and had dreamt of studying in the Imperial Academy, and now she was to be a slave-concubine of this ruthless barbarian. She was brought into the throne room topless, clad in a ceremonial skirt and collared, presented to her mistress as enslaved spoils of war by one of her generals. Thaira played along with the ceremony to the letter. The shamans chanted incantations to their deities as Thaira took hold of Miriam’s chain and janked her towards herself. She kept the terrified girl on her lap for the entirety of the feast that followed, drunk and were merry with her troops, until she announced that they’ll retire for the night. She lifted the princess on her shoulder, and carried her away to the royal quarters. Princess Miriam didn’t speak a word during the entirety of the ceremony, but later at night I could swear that I could hear her high pitched begging and laughter echoing all the way to my quarters.
Thaira took all out of this union - she wished that in the eyes of the people, this mockery of marriage could bring legitimacy to her rule. All of her decrees, all of her orders and commandments, they came in documents reluctantly drafted by me and mostly signed by not only Thaira but also princess Miriam. The poor princess tried her bravest to object. She tried to best her mother in useless courage and defy her mistress. Especially when Thaira was planning on committing her atrocious deeds, like ordering arrests of more innocent townsfolk for intimidating public punishments. But Thaira devised her own ways to break Miriam’s will. Despite her brutish demeanor, she didn’t break Miriam like her mother was broken. No, her methods were more private and delicate. She would restrain Miriam, and use a single feather to tease the poor girl into the very edge of a climax, and keep her like that for days if she had to. I’m sure she loved it when Miriam resisted her. She just could not get enough of seeing the princess writhing in forced lust and begging for release, that would be granted only if she co-operated. Princess Miriam gave up, every single time, and Thaira savored every single triumph with her favorite conquest. As time passed, Miriam submitted. But it didn’t mean mercy from these sessions, that she now suffers only for her mistress’s sadistic lust. Moaning, begging, laughing, moaning again only to laugh and beg. That’s the life princess Miriam leads even at the moments I write these words.
As grim as princess Miriam’s fate was, she at least had some solace in forced pleasure she was made to endure. Such luxury wasn’t enjoyed by the rest of her family. Deposed queen Eleanora had it worst. Thaira had ordered that at least two skilled torturers had to attend to her from dawn until dusk, and they were allowed to take nightly liberties with her if they wanted. The worst torture is of course being inflicted on her breasts. As time passed, her torturers got devilishly inventive about keeping the poor queen screaming, such as constructing a feathery pendulum that they can leave swinging back and forth, sweeping her breasts as a merciless machine for hours and hours even when they are gone. They have also constructed a devious coffin, which has the victim restrained inside of it, leaving only her breasts sticking out. They sometimes put the queen in it and have her carried to the to upper floors of the castle for more public tickle torture. The coffinbound queen has been a common guest in feasts, anybody is allowed to have their ticklish way with her sensitive bosom as Eleanora howls in maddened laughter, muffled enough by the wood of the coffin for barbaric guests to still enjoy their carousing and merrymaking.
Lisbeth, queen’s poor sister was initially kept in torture dungeons for apprentice torturers to practice on, but she was eventually handed over to the shamans. Intrigued about her reputation as a pious and chaste woman, she is currently held captive in the old temple of our Sisterhood - now carnal house of pagan worship - and to my knowledge has been subjected to their wicked rituals. They use all their skills of teasing and denial to make her frustration a Hellish experience - it’s something that pleases their spirits. Her womanhood, her nipples, everything that can add to her perpetually denied pleasure. She’s kept under tight watch by the shamans to ensure that she will never be able to climax by her own hand. As long as she remains at hands of those unholy women, she will be trapped in an endless inferno of almost feeling the ultimate bliss, but it’s forever kept just out of her reach, no matter how much she begs. I’ve heard that she’s even renounced our faith, swearing undying allegiance to the Northern pagan deities if she’s just allowed a single release, but the shamans know that Lisbeth is pleasing their accursed spirits most by just remaining in her sensual torment.
As for elder princesses Anja and Suzan, they are kept in a special section of dungeons. They’re held as imprisoned tickle slaves, their sensitive bodies are used to reward strongest warriors or to repay exceptional favors. Whenever a barbarian achieves a very remarkable feat in combat, or someone proves to be invaluable to Thaira’s realm in some other way, they might be granted a night or two together with these well guarded royal treasures. Their dungeon quarters are full of all sorts of contraptions of torture to tie the princesses to, well supplied with instruments of tickle torture from feathers to brushes and different exotic and attractive outfits the visitors can dress their victims in, from immodest Northern furwear to beautiful clothes of Southern dancers and harem girls. Whatever the heart of tickle-hungry barbarian or a foreign dignitary with enough gold to donate craves, these torture chambers will fulfil any of their desires with the coerced aid of two redhead princesses. Thaira also provides guards in order to help in controlling the noble tickle slaves if asked, but lots of barbarians prefer to carry them to their ticklish tortures and tie them down themselves. I suspect they think of it as a way to relive their conquest and imagine themselves as owners of these beautiful girls. Unfortunately for Anja and Suzan, the prospect of owning their ticklish bodies even for one night makes the elite and warriors of this new barbarian society really fight to make it reality. They seldom get even one night’s proper rest.
While I’ve chronicled the fall of Elburg and the doom of the royal family to the best of my abilities, I’ve yet to tell how I managed to flee and what my own distress was like. As chronicled, I was elevated from mere tickle slavery into administrative slavery, put to service under barbarian quartermaster Lyla. It soon dawned to me that my joy for escaping tickle slavery was premature, for she had chosen me over more qualified candidates for what she had seen during my captivity at hands of the troops - I had and have excruciatingly ticklish navel. It would be the source of my misfortune for several years to come. Yes, as a slave directly under Lyla I was safe from brutal tickle torture at hands of the warriors, as well as from despotism of Thaira which I saw bringing so many undeserving women to either torture dungeons or the slave market. But I wasn’t safe from Lyla, who would spend nights having me tied to her bed as she tickled my belly button with my own ink feather. She always forced me to expose my midriff, always demanded I was ready for tickling whenever my duties as scribe and slave steward didn’t bind me, and was sure to use her horrible Northern bird feathers whenever she felt I wasn’t acting to please her. There were times I almost got used to it. Times when I just wanted to let go of my mind as a holy Sister and try to seek what fulfillment I could from submission. I’m sure succumbing to those dangerous thoughts are among the main reasons why Thaira has been unstoppable so far - what choice do people falling under her got but to submit, when they’re made to face the choice of servitude with tickling or complete tickle torture?
Thank Heavens my prayers and fortitude gave me strength to endure distress, for I was ultimately able to escape. Lyla got careless as time passed. She would send me on errands on my own. She didn’t think she needed to assign guards to watch me. She thought that I was broken, like the almost entirety of the rest of Elburg was. After four years of occupation, Thaira’s reign had become accepted. Miriam had been forced to embrace her part as tickled slave-concubine. She does all her mistress demands. Queen Eleanora has probably been tickle tortured beyond insanity, but I doubt she finds refuge even in madness. Lisbeth has truly been reduced into a living ticklish sacrifice, and princesses Anja and Suzan are mere tickle slaves robbed of all control over their destinies. People of the city had gone the similar way. They’ve adapted to the situation where there’s no escape, and Lyla must have thought I had too. She took the return of her adorable tickle pet as granted. But I had a plan. Every three months, a merchant caravan from the far East would arrive, as - partially due to my help - Thaira managed to establish trade relations between some powerful Eastern dynasties. I knew where the caravans would arrive and when. And where they slept. It proved to be easier than I expected. To just poison tea of one caravan hand wearing concealing robes with sleeping herbs, drag her to a certain warehouse, swap our clothes and tie her tight with the ropes I had stolen. In her clothes, I laid awake in her bedroll for the entire night, and we left at first light. Once I thought we were far enough, I stole a horse and rode to the south without stopping. Words can’t describe the purest sensation of liberation I felt in that moment. I still often pray for forgiveness from the woman who by chance happened to be an instrument of my escape. I know she went through living tickle Hell once she was found and given to Lyla for interrogation about her part in me absconding. She might still be suffering for my deed. I hope she isn’t too ticklish to stand it.
Now, around a year from my escape, I’m writing this account for both imperial archives and for the empire to understand the threat this woman from the North poses and the horror she represents. She has so far defeated three imperial punitive expeditions in battle. While she might not be able to mount more large scale invasions yet, it’s only a matter of time. She’s not just miscreant in control of border territory. She can be the ticklish demise of our very civilization if she wills it and is left unchecked. I respectfully ask her majesty to have wisdom in this matter, and ponder very hard if she wishes to prevent one day seeing the imperial princesses writhing under tickle torture - and feeling it herself.
May the Heavens grant us peace, and deliver us from the ticklish terrors of the north.
In the 1494th year of our era, I was appointed by the Sisterhood to service of the royal Grefsgratt family, noble house that was granted the dominion over the northern borderlands by the Empress in the 1302nd year of our era. I was to serve as one of the scribes in the queen Eleanora’s administration and to assist priestesses of the Sisterhood in their sacred duties. However, as has already been chronicled before my account, the 1494th year was also the year of great calamity, as it also saw the horrifying barbarian army led by their self-proclaimed queen Thaira descend upon the Grefsgratt realm.As it’s known, the usurping conqueror Thaira now rules in the northern capital Eldburg, has subjugated most of old borderlands to her rule and has pushed even deeper, threatening even heartlands of the Empire. Worst of all, she has brought her people’s wretched customs of tickle torture with her, sparing nobody from their ruthlessness and cruelty - something I’ve experienced myself too. While all that is known, only I, sister Menida, have been witness to Thaira’s invasion and reign, and only I have been able to both watch her reign from close and escape her clutches to tell what I have seen of her tyranny to the civilized world.
Prior to the conquest, Greffsgratt dynasty had upheld the peace in the North, as in their agreement with her majesty’s the Empresses ancestor. The formerly wild northern empire had been pacified of brigands and untamed woodlands proved no safe haven for renegades anymore. Ancient forests were purged of foul magical cults and the threat of northern raiders to the empire was all but eliminated. The barbarian raids for slaves - mainly for purposes of tickling in their unholy ceremonies and as personally owned tickle slaves -, food and gold still occurred, but with rapid retaliations and counter-raids to their icy domain we were lulled into dangerous security. We thought that the commonly infighting barbarians would inevitably weaken, meaning that their warlike nature could not sustain their lust for riches and tickle slaves anymore in their harsh homeland and remaining barbarians would travel southwards in peace and integrate to the Empire in coming decades.
Oh, how wrong we were.
We know not what forgotten sorceries and long lost vaults she had discovered to aid her in her deeds there, but mysterious barbarian Thaira emerged from the farthest and coldest reaches of north, clad in armor decorated with magical runes, and by her charisma, physical prowess and newfound exceptional control of elemental magic convinced - or subjugated - divided and weak barbarian tribes to unite. Chieftesses were stripped of their traditional positions, and all barbarians swore their loyalty to their great unifier, Thaira, who proclaimed herself a queen and promised her subject all they’ve ever desired - fertile land, riches and slaves. Thus, they set their sights South, and marched forth.
To my great shame I must admit that we were completely unprepared for their onslaught. Once we first heard reports of barbarians ransacking homesteads and hounding travelers, we presumed it to be a regular raiding party. The military patrol sent to deal with them never returned, until they were brought back to the gates of capital with the barbarian army - restrained to their banners carried by brawny barbarians, stripped from their armors, and tickled by long feather-tipped spears of the savages.It alone brought fear to the hearts of defenders on the walls, their screams of ticklish terror raising above the ominous war chants of the barbarian horde.
Before her troops marched Thaira herself, fearsome warrior towering several head’s heights above even the tallest of her barbaric sisters in arms, with sword in her hand and her enchanted armor worn like she was making mockery of it - it was dismantled, and pieces of it were crudely attached together and tied with ropes to only cover her breasts and womanhood, it’s magical runes glowing red against the grey steel. Her muscular body with unnervingly pale skin was almost entirely exposed, her alabaster complexion contrasted by her fluttering raven black hair and furious dark eyes. Her wild kin was dressed in similar fashion, but in primitive armors, leathers, furs and various torn armors and clothes clearly stolen from our soldiers and subjects - their ragged condition reminding us that their unfortunate original owners were without a doubt forcibly stripped naked and tickled within an inch of their lives prior to their enslavement by barbarians.
Thaira’s elemental magic - certainly given to her by disgraced relics she was wearing - was nothing unheard of. Given proper studies and preparations, our fine enchantress sisters and sorceresses can practice similar magic with some dedication and discipline. But woe was us, for northern holdings had not prepared to encounter magical foes - barbarians have traditionally avoided sorcery like plague and old nature magic cults had been crushed in the North ages ago.We had no powerful magics by our side, for Empire’s strong mages are assigned where they are needed the most, which hardly was the North, which we thought to be won. I tried my best to aid the defenders - I rushed to the temple with haste, to aid the elder sisters in their hasty rituals to form protective wards. We didn’t have magical weaponry or proper ingredients for stronger spells, and what we could conjure were outmatched by Thaira’s elemental attacks - lightning broke our shields, fire burned the ballistas and cold blizzards forced our outnumbered defenders to rout. The destruction was swift and even our gate was brought down by a giant explosion along with strategic thinner spots in the walls, and barbarians flooded into the city. We presume that captive soldiers had told all about our defenses to the enemy. I cannot hate them for breaking under barbarian torture. I knew I could not stand their tickle torture, and at that moment, to my horror, falling into their hands was only matter of time. Some of the defenders regrouped into the narrow city streets, moralized by their noble officers and some of my sisters, but they could not hold the enemy back. I heard they all got overrun, their weapons were broken, and the human wave of enemies practically absorbed them - their outfits, were they armors or robes, were torn off and they were left in barbarian hands, dragged away to be gang tickled. Meanwhile, the main horde pressed on. I was not there to see it. I was running for my life towards the castle with the townsfolk that had not yet fallen into enemy hands. Pitiful laughter and screams of those who had followed among the sounds of fighting.
It was a lost cause. we did make it within the castle, vulnerable to attack now that the city walls had been lost. Our lady, queen Eleanora, tried to lead the final resistance in vain. Thaira herself led the assault on her estate, and after disarming her of her sword, managed to wrestle her to the ground in ruthless hand-to-hand combat. I will never forget the sound of Eleanora’s laughter. It was like a primordial scream, our always so proud, calm and resolute queen broke into cackling hysteria the moment Thaira pinned her down and began tickling her through her dress - our queen didn’t even have time to get her armor brought to her from the armory. Her famous red hair was thrashing wildly and her precious crown fell to the ground as conquering brute’s hands dug into the blue silk, tearing it off to reach the queen’s bare skin. That seemed to drive her mad - her struggling tenfolded and her demands to be let go turned into pleading for mercy. Her face turned red from helpless laughter and humiliation, and for the first time we saw a smile on the face of the invader. I was watching this terrible spectacle from behind the royal throne, accompanying few of the courtiers and the royal family itself who had eluded capture until the last stand.
I and the courtiers did our best to shield the royalty from the savages, but we were easily torn away and forced to watch as barbarians captured the queen’s sister and three daughters. Furthermore, we were helpless as the invaders immediately began tickling them. The four redheaded beauties joined the queen in their ticklish hysteria as the barbarians made the highborne ladies into nothing but tickle toys. Their clothes torn, their delicate, vulnerable and sensitive bodies exposed to the world, assault of endless ruthless fingers exploring their pale, smooth skin as they desperately pleaded for it to cease and shouted panicky prayers to the heavens, before succumbing to only incoherent screams and laughter.
My memories of the next day or so are blurred into one long, ticklish nightmare I could not wake up from. I was passed from a group of savage barbarians to another, pinned down and tickled, my robe long since torn off and my sacred violated… They recognized me as a member of the holy Sisterhood, and seemed to enjoy not only making me scream in laughter, but of forcing me to moan, making me experience pleasures of flesh against my will… Their hands were tickling, groping and teasing, I only survived the ordeal sane through silently reciting my holy wows in my mind. They would not break my spirit. I promised it to myself.
As mercy of fate - cruel mercy, as I would discover - my status as holy sister would also deliver me from my first torturers. I was mostly held in the banquet hall along with many other captive courtiers, maids and fetching commoner girls that were dragged to the castle from the city or surrounding countryside, all of us made into conqueror’s playthings. A high ranking barbarian, their quartermaster named Lyla, ordered me to be brought to her. I was overjoyed to leave that hall of torment, though I shed tears for all the poor souls still left in there. I heard their cries echoing in the hallways for a long time while being taken to the barracks. Barbarians had made it theirs, wearing armors of our little troops and distributing their weapons among themselves. They weren’t here to ransack and then leave. They were here to stay, and staying means administrating. Sisters such as myself are literate, trained to aid our noble ladies in managing their realms. And aid these savages needed, as they were not used to govern. I hope I can one day forgive myself for collaborating with the enemy, but I did not have any choice. It was made clear that I was either to serve Lyla personally, or I would be returned as a tickle pet of barbarian warriors. I didn’t know then - and didn’t even really care - why Lyla had requested me specifically, since there were more experienced Sisters in their hands, but I would soon learn of the wicked desires of this blonde strongwoman.
One of my first duties as scribe to the invaders was to, as Lyla said, “take care of formalities”. I don’t know if she really knew what it even meant, but Thaira had - and has - a vision. She wanted a formal surrender from queen Eleanora, actual transfer of power and as good solidification of her new reign in the eyes of the people as she could possibly get. And it was obvious that the queen wasn’t going to submit easily. After I had been given a skimpy outfit that barely covered my chest and a skirt feeling more like a loincloth, a slave’s outfit I’ve been told, Lyla led me down to the castle dungeons where the royal family was being held. Their predicament was worst of all, no amount of respect for their nobility was shown.
The most skilled and cruel torturers in Thaira’s employ had been tickling the queen and her captive relatives since the castle was taken. As I was dragged away to be a tickle toy in banquet hall, the hapless royals were locked away in their own dungeon to suffer atrocious torture. The Grefsgratt is not renown for their flaming red hairs only, they’re also known - though spoken mostly in embarrassed yet admiring whispers - for their exceptionally ample bosoms, something that also runs in their family. This was not missed by barbarian fiends, and unfortunately for the royal family, they had also discovered that their breasts are their ticklish weakness.
I was taken by Lyla to witness their tortures multiple times. She said it was because I had to write down the queen’s surrender once she breaks, but I suspect it was more because she enjoyed my terror of seeing it. She loved seeing me shivering and pale, and must have known that it made me more obedient. Heavens forgive me, but I knew I could never stand being at mercy of those evil barbarian jailors for a moment.
The royals were kept in a single large torch lit prison cell, which had been converted into a torture chamber. In the center of the room, queen Eleanora and her younger sister, always so spiritual and pious Lisbeth, were tied back to back against a pole, their arms bound to wrists of each other and their elbows restrained to the pole itself. Additional ropes were tying them to the pole, one wrapped around their waists, one just below their breasts, and two more over their thighs and ankles, leaving their legs spread. Three torturers were assigned to tickle both Eleanora and Lisbeth, their bosoms the main focus of their cruelty. They would run feathers all over them while taunting them for their hardened nipples that received excruciating attention as well, and I’m not speaking about feathers used in our writing quills or in cleaning dusters of servants. No, they were using torture instruments from their own lands, fur gloves where at tip of every finger there was a long black feather belonging to birds of their native north. In my prior peril, one of the warriors tickling me had much rejoiced in extracting forced mirth out of me by spinning just one of such feathers in my belly button, and it almost drove me out of my mind. I can’t even imagine how several of those atrocious things could feel on such sensitive spots, and judging by reactions of the queen and her sister, no imagination can match the ticklish agony those poor women must have been going through. They were trashing their heads around in utter hysteria, their cackling laughter almost made into just screaming. It was obvious that barbarians didn’t expect the queen to surrender during torture sessions. There’s no way she could have been able to form any words while being tickled. Poor Lisbeth still tried, and to this day I’m not sure if they were attempts of pleas for mercy or desperate prayers. Like this wasn’t enough, both of the noble ladies had a third northwoman kneeling in front of them, using their single feathers to masterfully tease and tickle their womanhoods. I had heard that the barbarians used climax denial as part of their torture, especially in their depraved religious rituals. The savages given this task indeed seemed like shamans, humming their blasphemous incantations as they worked their dark art with the feathers, doing everything they could to drive the queen and her sister over the edge to complete submission.
By the wall opposite to the queen, another deranged play was being acted out. The three daughters of queen Eleanora, princesses Anja, Suzan and Miriam, were chained against the wall from their wrists and ankles. Under their mother’s eyes, they were being tickle tortured by an ever changing crew of barbarians, often at least two making a single girl scream in laughter. They indeed shared their apparent familial weakness of unbearable sensitive breasts, but were getting tickled all over their bodies. Their ribs, hips, bellies, under their arms, their thighs and knees, some temporarily unshackling their ankles to tickle soles of their feet… Their fair, pampered bodies were free game to these sadists. Their tickle torture wasn’t focused on specific spots, suggesting that they were there to suffer just to further pressure their mother the queen into submission. And suffer they did. Occasionally when they got enough of a break to gather their composure, they sometimes would raise their heads towards their tortured mother, begging her to just give the barbarians what they want, to just make it all stop. But alas, it went on. For almost two weeks, our brave queen held out.
The moment of Eleanora’s surrender was also the first moment when I saw the self proclaimed queen Thaira in person - for the first time since the assault on Elburg. She was sitting on the throne, wearing the same armor she did on that day, but was wearing the Northern crown she had seized, and had gotten an ornamental cloak made for herself. I later heard that she had forced finest tailor in the town to craft it on threat of tickle slavery not only for herself but all of her kin. I can’t blame people who must choose to obey her. The penalty for it is terrible. That terrible price had already been paid by queen Eleanora. She was brought to the throne room from the dungeon, still naked, her magnificent hair messy and her face profoundly stained by sweat and uncountable tears. Her arms were still bound behind her back as she slowly walked in front of Thaira and kneeled, clearly holding back tears as she declared her titles forfeit and surrendered to her victor. She relinquished her authority over any of her subjects, which were now transferred to Thaira. Finally, she came to the final term for surrender that her torturers had tirelessly been trying to make her agree on. Final term, which was the reason she held on this long. She looked like she could still have resistance in her. Like she wanted to defy Thaira with all her heart. But she didn’t. Breaking into sobbing, she publicly announced that her youngest daughter, Miriam, would be given to Thaira as her consort. I wrote this all down to official documents with a shaking hand. It didn’t seem real. To see the benevolent and proud ruler of these lands broken like that. To see queen Eleanora surrender her realm and her beloved daughter to a foreigner in any circumstances. Eleanora’s arms were untied, and she walked to me with quivering legs. Without saying a word, she took the quill, and with hands much more shaky than mine she signed it. Upon this moment Thaira stood up and laughed. She gave her first orders as official victor. That Miriam will be brought out of the dungeon, but to leave the others there. Her booming voice made my heart race with fear, but Eleanora felt more than that with that announcement. She dropped on her knees again and resumed sobbing. She turned into the barbarian queen, tearfully begging her to let herself, her sister and her two elder daughters go. She swore they would never come to these lands again, they would never challenge her claim to these lands. Thaira answered by ordering the queen to be seized. Eleanora descended into crazed panic as she ordered barbaric guards to take her back to the torture chamber as well. I’ve never seen anyone kicking and screaming with such desperation - despite being exhausted by long days of inhumane tickle torture, she fought like a wild beast. Tried to do anything she could to not be brought back into that dungeon of horrors. She had tried to stand it for so long, tried to protect her dear Miriam from this fate, and had broken in the end… But for what? Only for Miriam to be given to this brute, and for her family to still suffer for the rest of their lives. This was Thaira’s rule. Tyranny and torment.
The bonding ceremony of Thaira and Miriam took place the next day. Poor girl had just seen her eighteenth birthday last winter and had dreamt of studying in the Imperial Academy, and now she was to be a slave-concubine of this ruthless barbarian. She was brought into the throne room topless, clad in a ceremonial skirt and collared, presented to her mistress as enslaved spoils of war by one of her generals. Thaira played along with the ceremony to the letter. The shamans chanted incantations to their deities as Thaira took hold of Miriam’s chain and janked her towards herself. She kept the terrified girl on her lap for the entirety of the feast that followed, drunk and were merry with her troops, until she announced that they’ll retire for the night. She lifted the princess on her shoulder, and carried her away to the royal quarters. Princess Miriam didn’t speak a word during the entirety of the ceremony, but later at night I could swear that I could hear her high pitched begging and laughter echoing all the way to my quarters.
Thaira took all out of this union - she wished that in the eyes of the people, this mockery of marriage could bring legitimacy to her rule. All of her decrees, all of her orders and commandments, they came in documents reluctantly drafted by me and mostly signed by not only Thaira but also princess Miriam. The poor princess tried her bravest to object. She tried to best her mother in useless courage and defy her mistress. Especially when Thaira was planning on committing her atrocious deeds, like ordering arrests of more innocent townsfolk for intimidating public punishments. But Thaira devised her own ways to break Miriam’s will. Despite her brutish demeanor, she didn’t break Miriam like her mother was broken. No, her methods were more private and delicate. She would restrain Miriam, and use a single feather to tease the poor girl into the very edge of a climax, and keep her like that for days if she had to. I’m sure she loved it when Miriam resisted her. She just could not get enough of seeing the princess writhing in forced lust and begging for release, that would be granted only if she co-operated. Princess Miriam gave up, every single time, and Thaira savored every single triumph with her favorite conquest. As time passed, Miriam submitted. But it didn’t mean mercy from these sessions, that she now suffers only for her mistress’s sadistic lust. Moaning, begging, laughing, moaning again only to laugh and beg. That’s the life princess Miriam leads even at the moments I write these words.
As grim as princess Miriam’s fate was, she at least had some solace in forced pleasure she was made to endure. Such luxury wasn’t enjoyed by the rest of her family. Deposed queen Eleanora had it worst. Thaira had ordered that at least two skilled torturers had to attend to her from dawn until dusk, and they were allowed to take nightly liberties with her if they wanted. The worst torture is of course being inflicted on her breasts. As time passed, her torturers got devilishly inventive about keeping the poor queen screaming, such as constructing a feathery pendulum that they can leave swinging back and forth, sweeping her breasts as a merciless machine for hours and hours even when they are gone. They have also constructed a devious coffin, which has the victim restrained inside of it, leaving only her breasts sticking out. They sometimes put the queen in it and have her carried to the to upper floors of the castle for more public tickle torture. The coffinbound queen has been a common guest in feasts, anybody is allowed to have their ticklish way with her sensitive bosom as Eleanora howls in maddened laughter, muffled enough by the wood of the coffin for barbaric guests to still enjoy their carousing and merrymaking.
Lisbeth, queen’s poor sister was initially kept in torture dungeons for apprentice torturers to practice on, but she was eventually handed over to the shamans. Intrigued about her reputation as a pious and chaste woman, she is currently held captive in the old temple of our Sisterhood - now carnal house of pagan worship - and to my knowledge has been subjected to their wicked rituals. They use all their skills of teasing and denial to make her frustration a Hellish experience - it’s something that pleases their spirits. Her womanhood, her nipples, everything that can add to her perpetually denied pleasure. She’s kept under tight watch by the shamans to ensure that she will never be able to climax by her own hand. As long as she remains at hands of those unholy women, she will be trapped in an endless inferno of almost feeling the ultimate bliss, but it’s forever kept just out of her reach, no matter how much she begs. I’ve heard that she’s even renounced our faith, swearing undying allegiance to the Northern pagan deities if she’s just allowed a single release, but the shamans know that Lisbeth is pleasing their accursed spirits most by just remaining in her sensual torment.
As for elder princesses Anja and Suzan, they are kept in a special section of dungeons. They’re held as imprisoned tickle slaves, their sensitive bodies are used to reward strongest warriors or to repay exceptional favors. Whenever a barbarian achieves a very remarkable feat in combat, or someone proves to be invaluable to Thaira’s realm in some other way, they might be granted a night or two together with these well guarded royal treasures. Their dungeon quarters are full of all sorts of contraptions of torture to tie the princesses to, well supplied with instruments of tickle torture from feathers to brushes and different exotic and attractive outfits the visitors can dress their victims in, from immodest Northern furwear to beautiful clothes of Southern dancers and harem girls. Whatever the heart of tickle-hungry barbarian or a foreign dignitary with enough gold to donate craves, these torture chambers will fulfil any of their desires with the coerced aid of two redhead princesses. Thaira also provides guards in order to help in controlling the noble tickle slaves if asked, but lots of barbarians prefer to carry them to their ticklish tortures and tie them down themselves. I suspect they think of it as a way to relive their conquest and imagine themselves as owners of these beautiful girls. Unfortunately for Anja and Suzan, the prospect of owning their ticklish bodies even for one night makes the elite and warriors of this new barbarian society really fight to make it reality. They seldom get even one night’s proper rest.
While I’ve chronicled the fall of Elburg and the doom of the royal family to the best of my abilities, I’ve yet to tell how I managed to flee and what my own distress was like. As chronicled, I was elevated from mere tickle slavery into administrative slavery, put to service under barbarian quartermaster Lyla. It soon dawned to me that my joy for escaping tickle slavery was premature, for she had chosen me over more qualified candidates for what she had seen during my captivity at hands of the troops - I had and have excruciatingly ticklish navel. It would be the source of my misfortune for several years to come. Yes, as a slave directly under Lyla I was safe from brutal tickle torture at hands of the warriors, as well as from despotism of Thaira which I saw bringing so many undeserving women to either torture dungeons or the slave market. But I wasn’t safe from Lyla, who would spend nights having me tied to her bed as she tickled my belly button with my own ink feather. She always forced me to expose my midriff, always demanded I was ready for tickling whenever my duties as scribe and slave steward didn’t bind me, and was sure to use her horrible Northern bird feathers whenever she felt I wasn’t acting to please her. There were times I almost got used to it. Times when I just wanted to let go of my mind as a holy Sister and try to seek what fulfillment I could from submission. I’m sure succumbing to those dangerous thoughts are among the main reasons why Thaira has been unstoppable so far - what choice do people falling under her got but to submit, when they’re made to face the choice of servitude with tickling or complete tickle torture?
Thank Heavens my prayers and fortitude gave me strength to endure distress, for I was ultimately able to escape. Lyla got careless as time passed. She would send me on errands on my own. She didn’t think she needed to assign guards to watch me. She thought that I was broken, like the almost entirety of the rest of Elburg was. After four years of occupation, Thaira’s reign had become accepted. Miriam had been forced to embrace her part as tickled slave-concubine. She does all her mistress demands. Queen Eleanora has probably been tickle tortured beyond insanity, but I doubt she finds refuge even in madness. Lisbeth has truly been reduced into a living ticklish sacrifice, and princesses Anja and Suzan are mere tickle slaves robbed of all control over their destinies. People of the city had gone the similar way. They’ve adapted to the situation where there’s no escape, and Lyla must have thought I had too. She took the return of her adorable tickle pet as granted. But I had a plan. Every three months, a merchant caravan from the far East would arrive, as - partially due to my help - Thaira managed to establish trade relations between some powerful Eastern dynasties. I knew where the caravans would arrive and when. And where they slept. It proved to be easier than I expected. To just poison tea of one caravan hand wearing concealing robes with sleeping herbs, drag her to a certain warehouse, swap our clothes and tie her tight with the ropes I had stolen. In her clothes, I laid awake in her bedroll for the entire night, and we left at first light. Once I thought we were far enough, I stole a horse and rode to the south without stopping. Words can’t describe the purest sensation of liberation I felt in that moment. I still often pray for forgiveness from the woman who by chance happened to be an instrument of my escape. I know she went through living tickle Hell once she was found and given to Lyla for interrogation about her part in me absconding. She might still be suffering for my deed. I hope she isn’t too ticklish to stand it.
Now, around a year from my escape, I’m writing this account for both imperial archives and for the empire to understand the threat this woman from the North poses and the horror she represents. She has so far defeated three imperial punitive expeditions in battle. While she might not be able to mount more large scale invasions yet, it’s only a matter of time. She’s not just miscreant in control of border territory. She can be the ticklish demise of our very civilization if she wills it and is left unchecked. I respectfully ask her majesty to have wisdom in this matter, and ponder very hard if she wishes to prevent one day seeing the imperial princesses writhing under tickle torture - and feeling it herself.
May the Heavens grant us peace, and deliver us from the ticklish terrors of the north.
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