Sablesword
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2001
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Story inspired by the recent thread "I'm gonna be writing a tickling story who I should write it about?"
Tickling the Muse
by Sablesword
"I don't want to work today," the muse said. At that moment she had the form of a magical anime princess, with long violet hair, a little tiara-crown, and a gown that managed to be at once both flowing and lacy. She pointed at the screen with her star-tipped wand. "Why don't you play one of those computer games?"
Sablesword scrolled through his directory of half-baked story ideas and false starts. "Later," he said. "Right now I want to work on a story, or maybe try to make a little progress on the novel."
"I won't help," the muse pouted. "Look, there's the shortcut to Mozilla. You can web-surf."
Sablesword didn't answer. He fired up Word, and stared at the blank new document.
"I told you I don't want to work today," the muse repeated. "Give it up."
"No." Sablesword looked at the muse and made her clothing disappear, stripping her to pink panties and bra. Another thought pinned her down on a plain white board, with heavy leather straps holding her in place by wrists and ankles, thighs and upper arms.
"Let me go!" the muse demanded. "What - what are you doing?"
"Convincing you to help," Sablesword grinned. A pair of green feathers appeared. They floated over to the muse, their tips quivering, and took up positions on either side of her torso. Then, gently, they began stroking her ribs, and under her arms.
"No! Stop! You can't do this! Ha hee hee hahahaha," the muse squirmed under the tickling, protesting futilely.
Sablesword didn't answer. He just watched as the feathers worked their way down the muse's legs and began to tickle the soles of her feet. Her upper body wasn't abandoned, though. White-gloved mechanical hands sprang up from around the edges of the restraining board, and their fingers began to work on her ribs and arms, legs and belly. More hands gripped her toes, so that the animated feathers could get between them, making giggles pour out of the muse like water from a fountain.
The muse screwed shut her big anime eyes, and twisted and squirmed, but she could not escape the tickling. The white hands and green feathers were irresistible as they gently stimulated her bare skin, forcing the laughter from her.
That skin flushed, and beads of sweat began to form as the tickling continued. "No... please... no..." the muse gasped between bouts of laughter. "Let me loose.... No no no no noooo...hahaheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee..." The tickling of her upper body paused - but only to let the tickling of her feet reach a crescendo.
The tickling stopped, and the muse gasped for breath. "Please let me loose," she whimpered.
"Ready to help, now?" Sablesword asked.
"No! And if you release me from these straps I won't ever help you!"
Sablesword shrugged and the straps vanished, along with the muse's bra and panties. The muse sprang to her feet, completely nude now, but before she could do anything else a set of metal tentacles reached down and seized her. They lifted her up in a suspended hogtie, the grabber-claws on their ends grasping her wrists and ankles. "Let me down!" she demanded.
Sablesword shrugged again, grinning, and the claws began to lower the muse - right into a patch of wiggling feather-fronds. The muse squeaked and began to twist and buck. But she could not break the grip of the metal tentacles, and in moments she came within reach of the feather fronds.
Her struggles grew more frenzied as the feather fronds stroked her naked breasts and belly. Their touch was excruciatingly soft, and maddeningly persistent. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she laughed, she could not escape their slow tickle tickle tickle.
A whirring came from overhead, and the muse looked up, over her shoulder. "Oh no," she whispered. A pair of fuzzy balls, spinning on the ends of jointed mechanical arms, dropped down toward her exposed soles. They made contact, buffing her bare feet - insteps, balls, toes, balls, insteps, heels, insteps... She went wild with laughter, jerking spasmodically as she struggled futilely against the inescapable tickling.
At last the metal claws released her. "Now will you help?" Sablesword asked as she sat curled in a ball, arms around her legs.
"Certainly not!" she snapped. "You're enjoying this," she added with an accusing glare.
"Yep. And you are too, I think - "
"I am not!"
"- and besides I have to do something you won't help with my stories."
The muse continued her glare in silence, before finally saying, "At least give me some clothes back."
"OK." A flip of Sablesword's hand put the muse in a silvery star-pirate costume, but barefoot, with the black space-boots set to the side. Before she could reach for them, a second gesture by Sablesword trapped her in a set of transparent plastic stocks. Her arms were raised, bent at the elbow and fastened to the wall behind her, and her feet stuck out before her, her soles exposed and her big toes held in place with clear plastic clamps.
The muse struggled briefly, then gave Sablesword another glare. "Go ahead and do your worst," she dared him.
"No," Sablesword answered. "I will do my best."
A dispenser appeared, and gave the muse's bare feet a generous coating of oil. Then two mechanical goats came bounding up, with riveted metal hides and glowing green eyes. They stopped before the muse's helpless soles, standing side by side, and long rubbery tongues came out to slurp up the oil.
Giggles exploded from the muse as the mech-goats licked every bit of oil from her feet. The rubber tongues sought out every millimeter of sensitively ticklish skin, licking and slurping, slurping and licking. The muse squirmed and writhed as the laughter poured from her, but she could not free her arms and her bare soles were held helplessly vulnerable to the tickle-licking.
And it didn't stop. Every so often the dispenser would add another squirt of oil to each of her feet, and the mech-goats would resume their work: The slurping and licking continued. The squirming and struggling continued. The giggling and laughter continued. The tickling continued, until at last the muse cried "Enough! I give up! Ha heeheeheehaha I give in! I'll ha heeheehahaha I'll work today!"
For a long moment Sablesword didn't reply. "Pleeheeheheehee-please!" the muse begged.
Sablesword nodded, and the stocks and the goats vanished. The muse now sat on an oriental rug, surrounded by oriental pillows, dressed in a harem-girl costume, silky and skimpy. She tucked her still-bare feet beneath herself, protectively, and looked up at Sablesword.
"Speak, muse," he commanded. "Tell me a story."
"Yes, master," the muse answered. "This story is about a green-skinned wild woman, being sold at auction on a space station. She's brought out dressed in a traditional librarian's costume, complete with glasses, but..."
(end)
Tickling the Muse
by Sablesword
"I don't want to work today," the muse said. At that moment she had the form of a magical anime princess, with long violet hair, a little tiara-crown, and a gown that managed to be at once both flowing and lacy. She pointed at the screen with her star-tipped wand. "Why don't you play one of those computer games?"
Sablesword scrolled through his directory of half-baked story ideas and false starts. "Later," he said. "Right now I want to work on a story, or maybe try to make a little progress on the novel."
"I won't help," the muse pouted. "Look, there's the shortcut to Mozilla. You can web-surf."
Sablesword didn't answer. He fired up Word, and stared at the blank new document.
"I told you I don't want to work today," the muse repeated. "Give it up."
"No." Sablesword looked at the muse and made her clothing disappear, stripping her to pink panties and bra. Another thought pinned her down on a plain white board, with heavy leather straps holding her in place by wrists and ankles, thighs and upper arms.
"Let me go!" the muse demanded. "What - what are you doing?"
"Convincing you to help," Sablesword grinned. A pair of green feathers appeared. They floated over to the muse, their tips quivering, and took up positions on either side of her torso. Then, gently, they began stroking her ribs, and under her arms.
"No! Stop! You can't do this! Ha hee hee hahahaha," the muse squirmed under the tickling, protesting futilely.
Sablesword didn't answer. He just watched as the feathers worked their way down the muse's legs and began to tickle the soles of her feet. Her upper body wasn't abandoned, though. White-gloved mechanical hands sprang up from around the edges of the restraining board, and their fingers began to work on her ribs and arms, legs and belly. More hands gripped her toes, so that the animated feathers could get between them, making giggles pour out of the muse like water from a fountain.
The muse screwed shut her big anime eyes, and twisted and squirmed, but she could not escape the tickling. The white hands and green feathers were irresistible as they gently stimulated her bare skin, forcing the laughter from her.
That skin flushed, and beads of sweat began to form as the tickling continued. "No... please... no..." the muse gasped between bouts of laughter. "Let me loose.... No no no no noooo...hahaheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee..." The tickling of her upper body paused - but only to let the tickling of her feet reach a crescendo.
The tickling stopped, and the muse gasped for breath. "Please let me loose," she whimpered.
"Ready to help, now?" Sablesword asked.
"No! And if you release me from these straps I won't ever help you!"
Sablesword shrugged and the straps vanished, along with the muse's bra and panties. The muse sprang to her feet, completely nude now, but before she could do anything else a set of metal tentacles reached down and seized her. They lifted her up in a suspended hogtie, the grabber-claws on their ends grasping her wrists and ankles. "Let me down!" she demanded.
Sablesword shrugged again, grinning, and the claws began to lower the muse - right into a patch of wiggling feather-fronds. The muse squeaked and began to twist and buck. But she could not break the grip of the metal tentacles, and in moments she came within reach of the feather fronds.
Her struggles grew more frenzied as the feather fronds stroked her naked breasts and belly. Their touch was excruciatingly soft, and maddeningly persistent. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she laughed, she could not escape their slow tickle tickle tickle.
A whirring came from overhead, and the muse looked up, over her shoulder. "Oh no," she whispered. A pair of fuzzy balls, spinning on the ends of jointed mechanical arms, dropped down toward her exposed soles. They made contact, buffing her bare feet - insteps, balls, toes, balls, insteps, heels, insteps... She went wild with laughter, jerking spasmodically as she struggled futilely against the inescapable tickling.
At last the metal claws released her. "Now will you help?" Sablesword asked as she sat curled in a ball, arms around her legs.
"Certainly not!" she snapped. "You're enjoying this," she added with an accusing glare.
"Yep. And you are too, I think - "
"I am not!"
"- and besides I have to do something you won't help with my stories."
The muse continued her glare in silence, before finally saying, "At least give me some clothes back."
"OK." A flip of Sablesword's hand put the muse in a silvery star-pirate costume, but barefoot, with the black space-boots set to the side. Before she could reach for them, a second gesture by Sablesword trapped her in a set of transparent plastic stocks. Her arms were raised, bent at the elbow and fastened to the wall behind her, and her feet stuck out before her, her soles exposed and her big toes held in place with clear plastic clamps.
The muse struggled briefly, then gave Sablesword another glare. "Go ahead and do your worst," she dared him.
"No," Sablesword answered. "I will do my best."
A dispenser appeared, and gave the muse's bare feet a generous coating of oil. Then two mechanical goats came bounding up, with riveted metal hides and glowing green eyes. They stopped before the muse's helpless soles, standing side by side, and long rubbery tongues came out to slurp up the oil.
Giggles exploded from the muse as the mech-goats licked every bit of oil from her feet. The rubber tongues sought out every millimeter of sensitively ticklish skin, licking and slurping, slurping and licking. The muse squirmed and writhed as the laughter poured from her, but she could not free her arms and her bare soles were held helplessly vulnerable to the tickle-licking.
And it didn't stop. Every so often the dispenser would add another squirt of oil to each of her feet, and the mech-goats would resume their work: The slurping and licking continued. The squirming and struggling continued. The giggling and laughter continued. The tickling continued, until at last the muse cried "Enough! I give up! Ha heeheeheehaha I give in! I'll ha heeheehahaha I'll work today!"
For a long moment Sablesword didn't reply. "Pleeheeheheehee-please!" the muse begged.
Sablesword nodded, and the stocks and the goats vanished. The muse now sat on an oriental rug, surrounded by oriental pillows, dressed in a harem-girl costume, silky and skimpy. She tucked her still-bare feet beneath herself, protectively, and looked up at Sablesword.
"Speak, muse," he commanded. "Tell me a story."
"Yes, master," the muse answered. "This story is about a green-skinned wild woman, being sold at auction on a space station. She's brought out dressed in a traditional librarian's costume, complete with glasses, but..."
(end)
