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The Witches

TickleSlaver

Registered User
Joined
Dec 21, 2016
Messages
5
Points
3
A world exists where torture rules all things. Tickling is used to dominate, interrogate, torture, amuse, it is the universal language. In this land of fairytales and monsters, Kings and Queens, thieves and knights, there are also Witches...

The orc girl was suffering.

Her laughter echoed throughout the walls of the old cliffside castle. Deep within the crumbling stone structure, she was restrained. Her bottle glass green skin glistened with sweat. The dark mane of hair was braided behind her back. Sat in an old wooden seat, her wrists were tied to the hanging candelabra, unable to lower her arms. Her seven foot frame was pure muscle, and yet, no matter how hard she pulled she couldn’t free her arms. The possibility of freedom mocked her.

Hidden behind the green beast was a bespectacled, giggly girl, sitting cross legged on a stool. She wore a black button up dress with a white collar and lining, with tight fitting black leggings under it. Gloves stretched up her forearms, a heavy bangle dangling from either wrist. Her nimble fingers dug into the soft, tasty hollows of the orc’s underarms. As the monster suffered, the lithe girl flipped her raven hair back and licked her lips as the monster suffered. Gold flashed on the middle and ring fingers of both hands as she quickly wiggled her fingers up and down and left and right over the armpits.

"HAHAHAHAHA! I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAR IT! AS–AS SOON AS I GEHEHEHEHET OUT OF HEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHARE I’ll–NOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

On the heavy oak table in the center of the chamber were two pairs of feet. The first pair were the orc’s. Her ankles were trapped in a pair of stocks, locked with no chain or tool but crafted into one solid piece by magic. The trembling feet were massive, almost half the size of the table itself. With the hefty toes tied back, silky green arches taut, and both feet slicked with a potion that increased nerve sensitivity by 100%, they were begging to be tortured.

The second pair of feet were quite large themselves. They were dwarfed by the massive green slabs, but looked much tastier. Black stirrup straps protected the long and creamy arches. Freckles dotted the tops of the milky white feet. The slender toes glimmered with thick gold rings, adorning the middle three toes of either foot. Buttery smooth, the toenails painted black, and scented with oils–or maybe years of sweat–they were begging to torture.

The owner of the precious feet was an abnormally tall woman. She was shaped like a sculpted hourglass, with wide hips, legs like tree trunks, a large ass, and a massive chest that could hardly be contained by the purple leather and black steel which covered it. Her stomach was left exposed to display six rock hard abs, as were her arms which were strong, muscular, able to beat any man or orc into submission. Her legs were long and covered with black trousers covered with purple ruins. Said pants broke stirrups at the bottom. And her voice was dark and deep like the waters buried under the world.

“Don’t hold back, Elizabeth,” she said. “We don’t aim to pleasure the beast. We seek to break it.”

“Of course, Mistress,” the girl said, raking her nails down the cackling orc’s underarms. “Morgana, should–Um, I mean, Mistress, should we use the time spell yet?”

“Not yet,” Morgana said. “The beast marinates still. Using it now would be a waste.

Morgana tipped her chair back, one hand in her lap, the other arm languid behind the chair, and both feet on the table to greet the orc's. She slid her toes down the green soles, dug her heels into the calloused balls of the feet, and played a game of footsie that only one of them was enjoying.

The orc, in her forced hysteria, rationalized her situation by knowing it typical of their kind.

Witches.

Dark, wicked beings who exited to torment and torture all those who were good or innocent. They were vicious people who were only happy when making another living being suffer.

"I'm not certain why you're making this so difficult." Morgana lazily raised the right hand in her lap–chunky gold rings on her pinky, ring, and index fingers shining in the light of torches–and pushed the wide brimmed witch hat out of her eyes. "We simply desire to know the location of the rest of your family. Is that so much trouble?"

"NO! Y–YOU–YOU'LL TICKLEHEHEHEHEHE THEHEHEHEHEHEHEM! I CAN'T! I CAHAHAHAHAHAN'T!"

Morgana chuckled, her eyes twinkling. There was no iris, pupil, or anything of the sort to be found. Her eyes were twin glowing suns under her black hat, and above the purple scarf that covered the bottom half of her face.

"Is that not obvious?” the witch said. “Why else would we seek out such creatures like you and the rest of your brood?" She used her toes as fingers, tracing shapes and runes along the Orc's pathetically ticklish feet. "Now, tell us. And I'll consider tickling you only half to death."

"N–NEHEHEHEVHEHEHAHAHAHAR! I'LL NEVER TAHAHAHAHAHALK!"

"Yes, you will," Morgana stated. " They all do. It matters not the strength of your will or body.” She curled her toes, the gold rings gleaming bright against the gloom of the room, and raked the nails down the orc’s feet. “Soon, you’ll beg to tell us every smallminded thought in that puny brain of yours. Lizzy, be a dear and count those oh so sensitive looking ribs."

"Of course, Mistress," Elizabeth said, adjusting her fogged up glasses.

"PLEASE! NOT THE RIBS! I BEG OF YOU!"

Elizabeth danced her fingers right above the Orc girl's chest. "Oh my, the ribs must be pretty bad then, huh?" she asked with a wide grin that was more suited for a lovely, intelligent schoolgirl than for a dark sorceress.

"SO MUCH SO!” She pleaded between deep breaths, Morgana having stopped to impatiently drum her toes against the orc’s feet. “PLEASE JUST–"

Before she could finish, Elizabeth dug in, kneading her fingers between the ribs.

The orc screamed. Her pathetic squeals could be heard from all the way out of the massive castle. Tears poured down her flushed cheeks. Her ticklish body had betrayed her. The green skinned freak was no match for the dark witches or their sadism.

“Oh, wow!” Elizabeth beamed. “So much more sensitive than I expected. Are all of you creatures this ticklish?”

"PLEHEHEHAHAHAHASE! N–NO MOHOHOHAHAHAHARE! IT TICK–IT TICKLES TOHOHOHOHO MUCHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA, STOHOHOHAHAHAHAP!"

"Don't worry," Morgana told their captive as she began raking her toenails down the beast’s feet, "if you don't tell us soon, we'll only tickle you for another few days. And, if you're still resisting then, we'll use some potions to make you even more ticklish. Perhaps 3,000 times more ticklish than you currently are.”

The orc snorted through a fit of cackling, begging Morgana with bright brown eyes.

“I can craft a hex that makes you imagine your ugly, brutish family being tickled to death right in front of your very eyes again and again. Would you enjoy that?”

The eyes got brighter as they got wetter with fresh tears.

“Curse you so that your tongue is removed from your mouth and multiplied by four, each one glued to the bottom of Elizabeth’s and I’s positively rancid feet. And we can make them smell and taste even worse with just a few magic words. I believe I have 917 years of foot stink and sweat saved up.”

The orc tried to wake up. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t actually happen to her.

“The curses we put on you will make every second of tickling be perceived by you as a millennia, every second within that millennia another millennia itself. And if you're still holding out after all of that...then the torture can really begin. But what the hell?” Morgana laughed, a husky sound. “We're going to do all of that even if she does tell us, right, Lizzy?"

"Of course," said the grinning apprentice, looking happily drunk as she kneaded the orc's sides. “I have so many experiments I want to run on it."

The orc girl's eyes open wider than possible, and spittle falling down her jaw, screamed with desperate laughter that shook the old castle walls.

"WHAHAHAHAHAY ARE YOHOHOHOHOU DOING THAHAHAHAHAHAHIS TO MEHEHEHEHEHE?!" she sobbed. "NOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!"

Morgana and Elizabeth shared a knowing look, the apprentice smirking and Morgana's glowing green eyes hot and alive.

"Because," Morgana laughed, “you’re ticklish."
 
nice little fantasy based story that(I do have a weakness for fantasy based tickling), your character design of the two female witches, were very nice too, I look forward to seeing them in the future if you continue this series, if not, a good written short story. thanks for taking the time to write it
 
nice little fantasy based story that(I do have a weakness for fantasy based tickling), your character design of the two female witches, were very nice too, I look forward to seeing them in the future if you continue this series, if not, a good written short story. thanks for taking the time to write it
Thank you so much, I'm quite proud of this one, and am happy you likes the character designs! I stated writing tickle stories 2 or 3 years ago, and these two witches were my first characters. Haven't used them in a while, but I have a lot of plans for them! Lots of stories of them traveling the land and tickling the life and soul out of people.
 
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