WriteNow22
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Hey gang! Here is my second-ever contribution to your noble forum, inspired by a once-popular Tumblr post I made, forever ago. Once again, I wrote this at work so punish me...I mean excuse me for any typos. Story also includes descriptions of bondage and orgasm denial. Read all the way to the end for some good tickle talk. Enjoy!
“I thought this was a film studio.”
On her back, Maggie stared up at the blackened ceiling of the small, boxy room, searching for any of the usual trappings of a production room. Typical studios were bright, busy places, filled to the gills with stage lights and boom mics and staff. But this room was nearly barren except for the large, x-frame table and the three other figures who stood around her.
“Just relax,” Mr. Bradley said sternly, his eyes narrowing at Maggie. Mr. Bradley wore a heavy suit and overcoat, his body large and bulky in the doorframe of the tiny room. He looked so out of place amongst the three women, who were either scantily clad in lingerie or, in Maggie’s case, completely naked.
Not that she felt uncomfortable. Maggie had been an adult actress for seven years and had done hundreds of shoots. These fetish films were especially common to her, though the casting call for this particular film did give her pause. The working title of this skin flick was “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!” and apparently, her two female co-stars planned to tickle her.
The thought made Maggie twitch nervously. She was exceptionally ticklish, which would make for fantastic porn but a rather unpleasant experience for her. Her entire body was overly sensitive, as it had been since childhood. Even the slightest tickle from her older brothers used to double her over in agony.
As Maggie lay on the x-frame, her co-stars busied themselves with her restraints. That was another odd thing about this shoot; though she’d spent lots of time in bondage, these restraints seemed especially severe. Her wrists and forearms were ratcheted down tightly, as were her thighs, knees, and calves. Something like a seatbelt held her hips firmly to the table, and a thick collar had been locked around her neck, choking her slightly as it held her still. Even her long, brunette ponytail had been gathered and tied to a bar beneath the table, so that any movement of her head pulled her hair painfully backward.
But the strangest were the foot restraints. Her feet had disappeared behind a set of stocks, the padded foot-holes holding her ankles a little too firmly. And her toes had been restrained with little metal clasps, a process that had nearly caused Maggie to faint. No matter where these ladies tickled her today, she hoped it wouldn’t be on her toes, which were deathly ticklish to even the slightest touch.
In the chilly room, her entire body trembled with sensitivity. Her strong reactions to touch were usually to Maggie’s benefit in the porn business, as were her long legs and full, round breasts. But in these tickle scenes, which Maggie hesitantly accepted when she was desperate for work, her sensitivity only increased her suffering.
Bondage also increased Maggie’s sensitivity, making her feel so vulnerable. The only movement Maggie still possessed was with her eyes. She stared around the small black room, the dark walls making her feel claustrophobic. There was only one camera, a giant hulking thing with wires on all sides. It hung over the three women from a heightened position, taking in every inch of Maggie’s naked body. She wondered if it was on now, capturing her bondage process.
With a final tug, Maggie’s redheaded co-star said, “We’re ready, sir.” Maggie could barely see as the third woman, a blonde in bright blue panties, gave a nod of agreement.
From the doorway, Mr. Bradley surveyed the three. Then he gave them a small smile. “Apply the oil, ladies.”
The oil? What oil? Maggie wanted to look down and watch her co-stars, but the slightest move of her head caused her hair to pull backward and her collar to choke her harder. Instead, she could only listen to the sound of plastic caps popping, and then she felt the icy kiss of oil being dripped onto her bare, restrained feet.
Fuck. So they were planning to tickle her feet. This was going to be a long hour of production. As the women began to rub their oil into her sensitive soles, Maggie had to bite down on her lip hard to keep from screaming. Her feet were already so ticklish, but to her horror, the oil seemed to bring Maggie’s soles from deathly ticklish to completely hyper-sensitive.
Once her soles were sopping wet with oil, Maggie saw Mr. Bradley nod. Then he spoke to the other women in a slow voice. “Remember, girls. Take your time. Find the best pattern. And get comfy.”
“Yes, sir.” The other girls said in unison. Maggie thought she heard the hint of a smile on their voices. Then, with one last narrow-eyed glance to Maggie, Mr. Bradley winked and stepped out of the tiny black room, shutting the door with a firm, heavy metal clank of authority.
“Finally, we have the bitch to ourselves.” The blonde girl hissed, her voice mirthful. Maggie’s eyes darted downward, but she couldn’t see her captors behind the wall of the stocks. She could hear them, though, as if they were in her own ears. In a room this small, any sound seemed loud.
“I’m so excited,” said the redhead. “I’ve been thinking of these feet since we first saw her picture.”
“Shhh…” The blonde hushed her friend. “Remember what Bradley said. Take your time. We have forever.”
Forever. “Ugh, don’t even joke like that,” Maggie said to her co-stars. “My feet are way too…”
“Quiet, slut!” The blonde snapped suddenly. “No one wants to hear from you.”
Maggie balked. She hadn’t known degradation would be part of this scene. She closed her mouth quick, her heart a little fluttery, and then she gritted her teeth as she listened to her co-stars position themselves alongside her feet.
“Make sure you’re comfy,” the redhead said to the blonde. “We’re going to be here a long time.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. Just an hour. Just take it for an hour…
There was a pause. A breath. Then the first set of long nails touched her bare sole, and Maggie’s eyes flew open with sheer panic.
Oh, fuck, it tickles! Maggie’s mouth opened forcefully as a scream erupted from her throat. Her body was instantly seized, a pang of intense ticklishness traveling up from her soles and straight into her brain, where it flooded her mind with terror.
The oil the girls had applied to her feet must have triggered every nerve ending on Maggie’s trapped feet. The tickling was a thousand times worse than anything she had ever felt or imagined. In the first brief second, Maggie realized this would be far too much to bear.
Instinctively, Maggie tried to pull her feet back with all her might, but the restraints kept her perfectly motionless. She could not move a centimeter, could not even scrunch her toes as the nails traveled the length of her sole.
“Oh good, she’s ticklish,” Maggie heard the blonde say above the roar of her own screams. “Let’s get her!”
Just as Maggie thought the cruel torment could not get any worse, she was proven wrong. The blonde applied her second hand to Maggie’s bare left foot, all ten of those manicured nails traveling the entire length of her sole. Maggie gasped as if she’d been punched, all breath leaving her body. The intensity made her eyes blur as ticklish torture overwhelmed her mind. She pulled hard on her binds, trying desperately to escape, but she only managed to choke herself until she had to lower her head again.
Then, cruelly, the redhead applied her own ten nails to Maggie’s captive right foot. The edges of the world seemed to blur as the most intense torment imaginable wrecked Maggie’s feet. It tickles…oh fuck, it tickles! She screamed, and to her own ears her screams were blood-curdling. She was in true agony, her ticklishness magnified to inhumane levels by the special oil.
“NO NO HAHAHAHA STOP STOP!” Maggie tried desperately to end the scene. She wondered if Mr. Bradley could still hear her behind the locked metal door. She tried to cry out to him, her lips struggling to form any words at all, but all she could manage was “STOP” and “NO” over and over.
“Quiet, tickle slut.” The redhead chastised, climbing her nails up Maggie’s trapped arches. She tickled harder. Tears began to roll down Maggie’s face. As the twenty nails of her torturers’ hands crawled over her sensitive soles, down to her heels and then up her arches again, Maggie knew she would faint soon from the torment.
In her restraints, the captive girl was entirely on display. Her bare breasts bounced as her body was wracked with helpless laughter. Her long legs trembled. Her face twisted in agony. And her ticklishness was perfectly displayed, undeniable now as she was punished intensely by her ticklers.
Oh, it tickled. Fuck, it tickled. It tickled more than anything Maggie could have ever dreamed about in a thousand years. If her nerve endings had been individually tortured, it still could not have been as cruel as whatever evil magic these ticklers were practicing on her.
“I think she likes the tickle oil,” teased the blonde. “Wait until she discovers it make the feet erogenous as well as ticklish.”
In her tortured state, Maggie could barely comprehend what the women were saying. The tickling across her soles was like a direct current of electricity, shocking her body with constant, overwhelming misery. But as the nails continued their path along her soles, Maggie could feel another sensation. A quiet warmth in her bare pussy, so at odds with the violent torment of her feet, as if someone had reached out and began to gently caress her there. As the tickling continued, racking Maggie’s body, the warmth continued to grow.
The women quickly seemed to discover Maggie’s most torturous spots. Her flexed, taut soles brought helpless screams when tickled. Her heels were very ticklish, but her high arches were extraordinarily sensitive. The passage of even one nail up the arch left Maggie screaming breathlessly.
Even in the midst of her anguish, the torture victim soon discovered her co-stars were working in very deliberate patterns. They would run their nails up and down her bare soles for several minutes, and Maggie almost thought they were gauging her reactions, zeroing in on super sensitive zones. Then they would shift to a different technique, tickling the ball of her foot and the arch at once in continuous motions, which left Maggie gasping for mercy.
“FUCK! STOP! RED! HAHAHAHA STOPSTOPSTOPPPHAHAHA I QUIT I QUITTTT!” Maggie tried desperately to end the scene, to halt production however she could. She wasn’t even sure that big camera was filming, because no flashing lights on the outside indicated any activity. Even if it was filming, she couldn’t imagine what kind of twisted freak would want to watch her motionless soles as she suffered this overwhelming torture.
“Hahaha, she doesn’t even know!” The redhead teased. “Stupid little tickle slut. Should we get her toes now?”
Undeniable fear struck Maggie’s heart as she heard her toes mentioned. No, no, no! With all the energy she had left, she yanked back on her trapped feet, desperate to escape. Her breasts bounced from the effort. Maggie was willing to do anything to get out; break her ankles, destroy the stocks, quit and never return to porn again. She would give back the money. Hell, she’d pay them to release her!
But the bondage did not budge. In fact, as she struggled, Maggie could feel the collar around her neck tighten, choking her just a little more to reinforce her helplessness.
Her fighting accomplished nothing, and Maggie realized she has just signaled her desperation to her ticklers.
“Oh, I think her toes may be ticklish!” The blonde exclaimed. “Let’s get them!”
The second her tormenters’ long nails touched her tied toes, Maggie thought a bomb had erupted inside her own body. It felt like nothing she had ever experienced; pure, unadulterated tickle torment, absolutely off the charts. The most severe, desperate ticklishness she could fathom. Her toes were in agony as the nails stroked them, dipping between each long stem into the soft, sensitive skin beneath. The nails stroked her toes maddeningly, tickling with growing intensity, as Maggie screamed will all her might.
“AAAAHHHHAHAHAHANOOOOOAHAHAHAHA!” Maggie realized she had lost the ability to speak. She could only cry, scream, gasp…as the tickling destroyed her sensitive toes.
Somewhere in her haze of ticklish agony, Maggie felt her pussy aching. She realized her nipples were perfectly perked on her bare tits. In her suffering, she had hardly noticed her growing arousal. But the torturers were obviously correct; the oil had made her feet an erogenous zone, and the tickling was turning her on incredibly quickly. Somehow, though the punishment on her feet was more intensely severe than anything she had thought possible, Maggie thought she may soon cum from the tickling.
“Move around,” said the redhead to the blonde. Soon Maggie felt the wiggling nails of her assailants moving down from her toes, across her sensitive soles to her heels, then back up her arches and into her toes once more. This combination brought new agony. The exploration of her ticklish spots caused Maggie’s soles to quiver with anguish. Her ticklers seemed to know exactly how to tickle in the most excruciating ways, and they were quickly mapping her most ticklish areas, targeting Maggie’s worst spots mercilessly.
“Less time on the heel, more on the soles,” the blonde advised. The redhead mumbled in agreement. The torture seemed to focus more on Maggie’s arches now, the nails traveling a path between them and her toes, over and over again.
Reality was slipping away. The only thing preventing Maggie from passing out was her desperate arousal. The growing ache in her pussy was almost as bad as the torture of her bare feet. Maggie silently begged for relief, her mind lingering fondly on the memory of her favorite vibrator, which she had used only this morning. Why, oh why couldn’t she have just stayed home!
But Maggie earned no relief from these two evil women. Her pussy was left to drip and ache as her ticklers focused all their attention on her feet, designing patterns of tickling between her toes and her soles as insanity gripped Maggie’s mind.
Then Maggie felt the blonde run a special tickling pattern; starting at her toes, the blonde positioned all twenty of her fingers in Maggie’s soft skin and then methodically tickled downward, across her taut sole and arches, before tickling back up again hastily.
This pattern caused every inch of Maggie’s restrained body to shake. A violent scream broke free of her mouth, informing the blonde of the intensity of her tickling. Maggie felt her pussy drip mightily, and realized that another stroke of the nails like that might send her over the end into a ticklegasm.
“There!” The blonde exclaimed, and suddenly the redhead joined in, traveling that same hyperticklish path down Maggie’s other foot. Having both feet tickled in this way suddenly made it more unbearable. Maggie gasped loudly, her voice straining with desperation, as both helpless feet were tortured far past their most extreme limits.
Through her piercing, anguished scream, Maggie heard herself give an involuntary moan. She was suddenly on the brink of orgasm, her clit crying out for even the slightest touch as pleasure built inside her. Fuck, fuck! One more stroke of the nails like that on her bare, hyperticklish feet and Maggie would be forced to orgasm hard for her abusers.
The ticklers must have heard her moan, because at once, they cried out in synchronized voices, “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
Then, as the long nails tickled mercilessly down that torturous pattern, as her pussy began to shudder with an incoming orgasm, as her face distorted in agony, her mouth agape, her head rising off the x-frame until she choked from her tightening collar… Maggie saw a bright flash from the camera above them, and the room disappeared for a moment, leaving her floating in an ocean of nothingness, save for the constant, unending torture of her trapped feet.
It took a moment for the visible world to return, but the tickling did not cease for a second. Neither did the ache in Maggie’s pussy, her clit trembling with desperate longing, begging silently for a firm touch. On her trapped feet, Maggie felt the continuous pattern of intense, otherworldly tickling, the long nails of her captors traveling that path of torture over and over and over again.
Against her will, Maggie could feel her head rise slightly, face twisting, collar choking her once again, before her head lowered once more. She tried to will herself to orgasm, but she couldn’t make it over the crest of her pleasure. Instead, she remained at the brink of the most intense anticipation. Her tormented pussy ached and dripped, but the torment remained constant, unchanging, the shuddering of her clit repeating over and over without change. Her ears rang with the sound of her ticklers shouting their phrase once more: “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
And then…it happened again. The same thing. The intense, unfair tickling torment. The shuddering of her distraught clitoris. The moment of pure torture, unmatched since the advent of history. Punishment. Pure punishment on her ticklish body.
A new, dark realization dawned on Maggie. She could not prevent her head from rising up, her neck choking again on the collar, her begging pussy trembling. There was no variation of the tickling path laid by the torturers at her feet, hitting all her most sensitive spots in a zone of three seconds before repeating once more: toes-soles-arches, toes-soles-arches, toes-soles-arches. “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
And her own scream, which she heard clearly now for the first time, repeated out of her mouth over and over without change, completely against her will: “AHHHAHA! AHHHAHA! AHHHAHA!”
With incredible fear, Maggie realized she was trapped…in a loop.
The captive girl could not even move her eyes in any new direction. Instead they were fixed upward, staring at the great blank ceiling as they widened and shut, widened and shut, over and over again. She felt her body tense in a familiar way, rising up in pure ticklish agony, on the very brink of powerful orgasm, but she could never once crest the hill into a different sensation. Pleasure escaped her, and instead her needy clit lingered on that very moment of absolute torment, on the precipice of relief without any possibility of achieving it.
And over and over she heard the shouting tease of her tormenters in unison: “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
As the unbearable tickling continued, unchanging, Maggie remembered something she often saw online. Once, before a fetish shoot, a producer had showed her a gif of a nude girl being spanked over and over again, the film repeating just as the paddle cracked across her behind. Maggie had thought it was sexy then, watching the scene over and over.
And over and over and over and…
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
No. No, that was impossible. Gifs were bits of film and pictures, not living images. But try as she might, Maggie could not escape the constant repetition of her torment, the steady ebb and surge of tickle torture and excruciation arousal.
Somehow, though it made no logical sense in her broken mind, Maggie knew her fate. The earlier words of her co-stars suddenly made sense. Though her mind was still active, still churning in torturous agony, her body was now trapped…in a tickle gif.
A new kind of terror struck Maggie. As her body reacted against her will to the incessantly tickling, she realized that there was no possibility of escape now. She was no longer in control of herself, of her orgasm, of her naked and writhing body. Her bare tits bounced, her taut soles trembled, her pussy dripped over and over again.
But there was no earthly way to make it stop.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
The tickling did not stop, and Maggie did not grow tired, though her desperate agony seemed to triple with each repeat of her punishers’ patterns. And because her mind remained active, Maggie could feel her inhumane arousal increasing as well, though her body was unable to cum.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
In the depths of her misery, Maggie could feel the tickling growing worse with each pass of those long nails on her flesh. They had clearly picked this tickling pattern on purpose, punishing her toes-soles-arches, toes-soles-arches, toes-soles-arches, over and over again. Maggie knew their minds were likely still active, too, despite the unchanging motion of their cruel hands on her feet. And she knew that these bitches were loving every single second, sentenced to torment her for eternity.
Eternity. Was that how long this would last? Maggie couldn’t take another second, no, she couldn’t! Please, please, no more, no more!
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
She couldn’t fight. It was impossible to resist the constant, unending tickling of her helpless feet. It just tickled, and tickled, and tickled. More and more and more.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
Oh, it tickles. Fuck, it tickles. I’m ticklish. I’m so fucking ticklish.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
It will never stop. There is no escape. The tickling will never end. The orgasm will never come. There is no way to make it stop.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
Submit. Submit to the tickling. Let the descent into madness take you whole. Reach the depths of tickle hell. It will never end. There is no escape. Submit. Submit.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
Suffer. Just suffer. Feel every stroke of the nails on your feet. Drip. Scream. Focus on how badly this tickles.
Suffer for those who watch you now, on their phones, on their computers, enjoying your agony, rubbing and touching themselves to your screams. Suffer for them.
The internet is forever, don’t you know?
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
“I thought this was a film studio.”
On her back, Maggie stared up at the blackened ceiling of the small, boxy room, searching for any of the usual trappings of a production room. Typical studios were bright, busy places, filled to the gills with stage lights and boom mics and staff. But this room was nearly barren except for the large, x-frame table and the three other figures who stood around her.
“Just relax,” Mr. Bradley said sternly, his eyes narrowing at Maggie. Mr. Bradley wore a heavy suit and overcoat, his body large and bulky in the doorframe of the tiny room. He looked so out of place amongst the three women, who were either scantily clad in lingerie or, in Maggie’s case, completely naked.
Not that she felt uncomfortable. Maggie had been an adult actress for seven years and had done hundreds of shoots. These fetish films were especially common to her, though the casting call for this particular film did give her pause. The working title of this skin flick was “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!” and apparently, her two female co-stars planned to tickle her.
The thought made Maggie twitch nervously. She was exceptionally ticklish, which would make for fantastic porn but a rather unpleasant experience for her. Her entire body was overly sensitive, as it had been since childhood. Even the slightest tickle from her older brothers used to double her over in agony.
As Maggie lay on the x-frame, her co-stars busied themselves with her restraints. That was another odd thing about this shoot; though she’d spent lots of time in bondage, these restraints seemed especially severe. Her wrists and forearms were ratcheted down tightly, as were her thighs, knees, and calves. Something like a seatbelt held her hips firmly to the table, and a thick collar had been locked around her neck, choking her slightly as it held her still. Even her long, brunette ponytail had been gathered and tied to a bar beneath the table, so that any movement of her head pulled her hair painfully backward.
But the strangest were the foot restraints. Her feet had disappeared behind a set of stocks, the padded foot-holes holding her ankles a little too firmly. And her toes had been restrained with little metal clasps, a process that had nearly caused Maggie to faint. No matter where these ladies tickled her today, she hoped it wouldn’t be on her toes, which were deathly ticklish to even the slightest touch.
In the chilly room, her entire body trembled with sensitivity. Her strong reactions to touch were usually to Maggie’s benefit in the porn business, as were her long legs and full, round breasts. But in these tickle scenes, which Maggie hesitantly accepted when she was desperate for work, her sensitivity only increased her suffering.
Bondage also increased Maggie’s sensitivity, making her feel so vulnerable. The only movement Maggie still possessed was with her eyes. She stared around the small black room, the dark walls making her feel claustrophobic. There was only one camera, a giant hulking thing with wires on all sides. It hung over the three women from a heightened position, taking in every inch of Maggie’s naked body. She wondered if it was on now, capturing her bondage process.
With a final tug, Maggie’s redheaded co-star said, “We’re ready, sir.” Maggie could barely see as the third woman, a blonde in bright blue panties, gave a nod of agreement.
From the doorway, Mr. Bradley surveyed the three. Then he gave them a small smile. “Apply the oil, ladies.”
The oil? What oil? Maggie wanted to look down and watch her co-stars, but the slightest move of her head caused her hair to pull backward and her collar to choke her harder. Instead, she could only listen to the sound of plastic caps popping, and then she felt the icy kiss of oil being dripped onto her bare, restrained feet.
Fuck. So they were planning to tickle her feet. This was going to be a long hour of production. As the women began to rub their oil into her sensitive soles, Maggie had to bite down on her lip hard to keep from screaming. Her feet were already so ticklish, but to her horror, the oil seemed to bring Maggie’s soles from deathly ticklish to completely hyper-sensitive.
Once her soles were sopping wet with oil, Maggie saw Mr. Bradley nod. Then he spoke to the other women in a slow voice. “Remember, girls. Take your time. Find the best pattern. And get comfy.”
“Yes, sir.” The other girls said in unison. Maggie thought she heard the hint of a smile on their voices. Then, with one last narrow-eyed glance to Maggie, Mr. Bradley winked and stepped out of the tiny black room, shutting the door with a firm, heavy metal clank of authority.
“Finally, we have the bitch to ourselves.” The blonde girl hissed, her voice mirthful. Maggie’s eyes darted downward, but she couldn’t see her captors behind the wall of the stocks. She could hear them, though, as if they were in her own ears. In a room this small, any sound seemed loud.
“I’m so excited,” said the redhead. “I’ve been thinking of these feet since we first saw her picture.”
“Shhh…” The blonde hushed her friend. “Remember what Bradley said. Take your time. We have forever.”
Forever. “Ugh, don’t even joke like that,” Maggie said to her co-stars. “My feet are way too…”
“Quiet, slut!” The blonde snapped suddenly. “No one wants to hear from you.”
Maggie balked. She hadn’t known degradation would be part of this scene. She closed her mouth quick, her heart a little fluttery, and then she gritted her teeth as she listened to her co-stars position themselves alongside her feet.
“Make sure you’re comfy,” the redhead said to the blonde. “We’re going to be here a long time.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. Just an hour. Just take it for an hour…
There was a pause. A breath. Then the first set of long nails touched her bare sole, and Maggie’s eyes flew open with sheer panic.
Oh, fuck, it tickles! Maggie’s mouth opened forcefully as a scream erupted from her throat. Her body was instantly seized, a pang of intense ticklishness traveling up from her soles and straight into her brain, where it flooded her mind with terror.
The oil the girls had applied to her feet must have triggered every nerve ending on Maggie’s trapped feet. The tickling was a thousand times worse than anything she had ever felt or imagined. In the first brief second, Maggie realized this would be far too much to bear.
Instinctively, Maggie tried to pull her feet back with all her might, but the restraints kept her perfectly motionless. She could not move a centimeter, could not even scrunch her toes as the nails traveled the length of her sole.
“Oh good, she’s ticklish,” Maggie heard the blonde say above the roar of her own screams. “Let’s get her!”
Just as Maggie thought the cruel torment could not get any worse, she was proven wrong. The blonde applied her second hand to Maggie’s bare left foot, all ten of those manicured nails traveling the entire length of her sole. Maggie gasped as if she’d been punched, all breath leaving her body. The intensity made her eyes blur as ticklish torture overwhelmed her mind. She pulled hard on her binds, trying desperately to escape, but she only managed to choke herself until she had to lower her head again.
Then, cruelly, the redhead applied her own ten nails to Maggie’s captive right foot. The edges of the world seemed to blur as the most intense torment imaginable wrecked Maggie’s feet. It tickles…oh fuck, it tickles! She screamed, and to her own ears her screams were blood-curdling. She was in true agony, her ticklishness magnified to inhumane levels by the special oil.
“NO NO HAHAHAHA STOP STOP!” Maggie tried desperately to end the scene. She wondered if Mr. Bradley could still hear her behind the locked metal door. She tried to cry out to him, her lips struggling to form any words at all, but all she could manage was “STOP” and “NO” over and over.
“Quiet, tickle slut.” The redhead chastised, climbing her nails up Maggie’s trapped arches. She tickled harder. Tears began to roll down Maggie’s face. As the twenty nails of her torturers’ hands crawled over her sensitive soles, down to her heels and then up her arches again, Maggie knew she would faint soon from the torment.
In her restraints, the captive girl was entirely on display. Her bare breasts bounced as her body was wracked with helpless laughter. Her long legs trembled. Her face twisted in agony. And her ticklishness was perfectly displayed, undeniable now as she was punished intensely by her ticklers.
Oh, it tickled. Fuck, it tickled. It tickled more than anything Maggie could have ever dreamed about in a thousand years. If her nerve endings had been individually tortured, it still could not have been as cruel as whatever evil magic these ticklers were practicing on her.
“I think she likes the tickle oil,” teased the blonde. “Wait until she discovers it make the feet erogenous as well as ticklish.”
In her tortured state, Maggie could barely comprehend what the women were saying. The tickling across her soles was like a direct current of electricity, shocking her body with constant, overwhelming misery. But as the nails continued their path along her soles, Maggie could feel another sensation. A quiet warmth in her bare pussy, so at odds with the violent torment of her feet, as if someone had reached out and began to gently caress her there. As the tickling continued, racking Maggie’s body, the warmth continued to grow.
The women quickly seemed to discover Maggie’s most torturous spots. Her flexed, taut soles brought helpless screams when tickled. Her heels were very ticklish, but her high arches were extraordinarily sensitive. The passage of even one nail up the arch left Maggie screaming breathlessly.
Even in the midst of her anguish, the torture victim soon discovered her co-stars were working in very deliberate patterns. They would run their nails up and down her bare soles for several minutes, and Maggie almost thought they were gauging her reactions, zeroing in on super sensitive zones. Then they would shift to a different technique, tickling the ball of her foot and the arch at once in continuous motions, which left Maggie gasping for mercy.
“FUCK! STOP! RED! HAHAHAHA STOPSTOPSTOPPPHAHAHA I QUIT I QUITTTT!” Maggie tried desperately to end the scene, to halt production however she could. She wasn’t even sure that big camera was filming, because no flashing lights on the outside indicated any activity. Even if it was filming, she couldn’t imagine what kind of twisted freak would want to watch her motionless soles as she suffered this overwhelming torture.
“Hahaha, she doesn’t even know!” The redhead teased. “Stupid little tickle slut. Should we get her toes now?”
Undeniable fear struck Maggie’s heart as she heard her toes mentioned. No, no, no! With all the energy she had left, she yanked back on her trapped feet, desperate to escape. Her breasts bounced from the effort. Maggie was willing to do anything to get out; break her ankles, destroy the stocks, quit and never return to porn again. She would give back the money. Hell, she’d pay them to release her!
But the bondage did not budge. In fact, as she struggled, Maggie could feel the collar around her neck tighten, choking her just a little more to reinforce her helplessness.
Her fighting accomplished nothing, and Maggie realized she has just signaled her desperation to her ticklers.
“Oh, I think her toes may be ticklish!” The blonde exclaimed. “Let’s get them!”
The second her tormenters’ long nails touched her tied toes, Maggie thought a bomb had erupted inside her own body. It felt like nothing she had ever experienced; pure, unadulterated tickle torment, absolutely off the charts. The most severe, desperate ticklishness she could fathom. Her toes were in agony as the nails stroked them, dipping between each long stem into the soft, sensitive skin beneath. The nails stroked her toes maddeningly, tickling with growing intensity, as Maggie screamed will all her might.
“AAAAHHHHAHAHAHANOOOOOAHAHAHAHA!” Maggie realized she had lost the ability to speak. She could only cry, scream, gasp…as the tickling destroyed her sensitive toes.
Somewhere in her haze of ticklish agony, Maggie felt her pussy aching. She realized her nipples were perfectly perked on her bare tits. In her suffering, she had hardly noticed her growing arousal. But the torturers were obviously correct; the oil had made her feet an erogenous zone, and the tickling was turning her on incredibly quickly. Somehow, though the punishment on her feet was more intensely severe than anything she had thought possible, Maggie thought she may soon cum from the tickling.
“Move around,” said the redhead to the blonde. Soon Maggie felt the wiggling nails of her assailants moving down from her toes, across her sensitive soles to her heels, then back up her arches and into her toes once more. This combination brought new agony. The exploration of her ticklish spots caused Maggie’s soles to quiver with anguish. Her ticklers seemed to know exactly how to tickle in the most excruciating ways, and they were quickly mapping her most ticklish areas, targeting Maggie’s worst spots mercilessly.
“Less time on the heel, more on the soles,” the blonde advised. The redhead mumbled in agreement. The torture seemed to focus more on Maggie’s arches now, the nails traveling a path between them and her toes, over and over again.
Reality was slipping away. The only thing preventing Maggie from passing out was her desperate arousal. The growing ache in her pussy was almost as bad as the torture of her bare feet. Maggie silently begged for relief, her mind lingering fondly on the memory of her favorite vibrator, which she had used only this morning. Why, oh why couldn’t she have just stayed home!
But Maggie earned no relief from these two evil women. Her pussy was left to drip and ache as her ticklers focused all their attention on her feet, designing patterns of tickling between her toes and her soles as insanity gripped Maggie’s mind.
Then Maggie felt the blonde run a special tickling pattern; starting at her toes, the blonde positioned all twenty of her fingers in Maggie’s soft skin and then methodically tickled downward, across her taut sole and arches, before tickling back up again hastily.
This pattern caused every inch of Maggie’s restrained body to shake. A violent scream broke free of her mouth, informing the blonde of the intensity of her tickling. Maggie felt her pussy drip mightily, and realized that another stroke of the nails like that might send her over the end into a ticklegasm.
“There!” The blonde exclaimed, and suddenly the redhead joined in, traveling that same hyperticklish path down Maggie’s other foot. Having both feet tickled in this way suddenly made it more unbearable. Maggie gasped loudly, her voice straining with desperation, as both helpless feet were tortured far past their most extreme limits.
Through her piercing, anguished scream, Maggie heard herself give an involuntary moan. She was suddenly on the brink of orgasm, her clit crying out for even the slightest touch as pleasure built inside her. Fuck, fuck! One more stroke of the nails like that on her bare, hyperticklish feet and Maggie would be forced to orgasm hard for her abusers.
The ticklers must have heard her moan, because at once, they cried out in synchronized voices, “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
Then, as the long nails tickled mercilessly down that torturous pattern, as her pussy began to shudder with an incoming orgasm, as her face distorted in agony, her mouth agape, her head rising off the x-frame until she choked from her tightening collar… Maggie saw a bright flash from the camera above them, and the room disappeared for a moment, leaving her floating in an ocean of nothingness, save for the constant, unending torture of her trapped feet.
It took a moment for the visible world to return, but the tickling did not cease for a second. Neither did the ache in Maggie’s pussy, her clit trembling with desperate longing, begging silently for a firm touch. On her trapped feet, Maggie felt the continuous pattern of intense, otherworldly tickling, the long nails of her captors traveling that path of torture over and over and over again.
Against her will, Maggie could feel her head rise slightly, face twisting, collar choking her once again, before her head lowered once more. She tried to will herself to orgasm, but she couldn’t make it over the crest of her pleasure. Instead, she remained at the brink of the most intense anticipation. Her tormented pussy ached and dripped, but the torment remained constant, unchanging, the shuddering of her clit repeating over and over without change. Her ears rang with the sound of her ticklers shouting their phrase once more: “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
And then…it happened again. The same thing. The intense, unfair tickling torment. The shuddering of her distraught clitoris. The moment of pure torture, unmatched since the advent of history. Punishment. Pure punishment on her ticklish body.
A new, dark realization dawned on Maggie. She could not prevent her head from rising up, her neck choking again on the collar, her begging pussy trembling. There was no variation of the tickling path laid by the torturers at her feet, hitting all her most sensitive spots in a zone of three seconds before repeating once more: toes-soles-arches, toes-soles-arches, toes-soles-arches. “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
And her own scream, which she heard clearly now for the first time, repeated out of her mouth over and over without change, completely against her will: “AHHHAHA! AHHHAHA! AHHHAHA!”
With incredible fear, Maggie realized she was trapped…in a loop.
The captive girl could not even move her eyes in any new direction. Instead they were fixed upward, staring at the great blank ceiling as they widened and shut, widened and shut, over and over again. She felt her body tense in a familiar way, rising up in pure ticklish agony, on the very brink of powerful orgasm, but she could never once crest the hill into a different sensation. Pleasure escaped her, and instead her needy clit lingered on that very moment of absolute torment, on the precipice of relief without any possibility of achieving it.
And over and over she heard the shouting tease of her tormenters in unison: “TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
As the unbearable tickling continued, unchanging, Maggie remembered something she often saw online. Once, before a fetish shoot, a producer had showed her a gif of a nude girl being spanked over and over again, the film repeating just as the paddle cracked across her behind. Maggie had thought it was sexy then, watching the scene over and over.
And over and over and over and…
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
No. No, that was impossible. Gifs were bits of film and pictures, not living images. But try as she might, Maggie could not escape the constant repetition of her torment, the steady ebb and surge of tickle torture and excruciation arousal.
Somehow, though it made no logical sense in her broken mind, Maggie knew her fate. The earlier words of her co-stars suddenly made sense. Though her mind was still active, still churning in torturous agony, her body was now trapped…in a tickle gif.
A new kind of terror struck Maggie. As her body reacted against her will to the incessantly tickling, she realized that there was no possibility of escape now. She was no longer in control of herself, of her orgasm, of her naked and writhing body. Her bare tits bounced, her taut soles trembled, her pussy dripped over and over again.
But there was no earthly way to make it stop.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
The tickling did not stop, and Maggie did not grow tired, though her desperate agony seemed to triple with each repeat of her punishers’ patterns. And because her mind remained active, Maggie could feel her inhumane arousal increasing as well, though her body was unable to cum.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
In the depths of her misery, Maggie could feel the tickling growing worse with each pass of those long nails on her flesh. They had clearly picked this tickling pattern on purpose, punishing her toes-soles-arches, toes-soles-arches, toes-soles-arches, over and over again. Maggie knew their minds were likely still active, too, despite the unchanging motion of their cruel hands on her feet. And she knew that these bitches were loving every single second, sentenced to torment her for eternity.
Eternity. Was that how long this would last? Maggie couldn’t take another second, no, she couldn’t! Please, please, no more, no more!
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
She couldn’t fight. It was impossible to resist the constant, unending tickling of her helpless feet. It just tickled, and tickled, and tickled. More and more and more.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
Oh, it tickles. Fuck, it tickles. I’m ticklish. I’m so fucking ticklish.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
It will never stop. There is no escape. The tickling will never end. The orgasm will never come. There is no way to make it stop.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
Submit. Submit to the tickling. Let the descent into madness take you whole. Reach the depths of tickle hell. It will never end. There is no escape. Submit. Submit.
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
Suffer. Just suffer. Feel every stroke of the nails on your feet. Drip. Scream. Focus on how badly this tickles.
Suffer for those who watch you now, on their phones, on their computers, enjoying your agony, rubbing and touching themselves to your screams. Suffer for them.
The internet is forever, don’t you know?
“TICKLE TICKLE TICKLE!”
