Resort To Tickling

Resort To Tickling
By ShadowTklr


Nancy’s booted footsteps patter loudly against the leaf-covered ground of the dense woods. The slim, 25-year-old redhead races amongst the trees, slaloming around each trunk, unimpeded by the veil of darkness imposed by the night. Whispers that can only be described as chuckling evil surround her like a mist, unseen, but very much heard. She pants with desperate anxiety – her breathing is heavy, fluttering wheezes of air laced with the chirping of her strained vocal chords, which vibrate with chilling fear upon each gated thud of her steps. She looks behind her. Her deep blue eyes scan the blackness with erratic, desperate expression.

Three Days EarlierNancy and Teresa knelt just outside of the chain link fence, poised at the threshold of a hole, cut only moments earlier by their adventurous and nonconformist friend. The hole was cut directly beneath a large red and black sign that read “No Campers Beyond This Point.” Both Nancy and Teresa were having a hard time finding the humor in their friend’s blatant disregard of the warning. They both tried in vain to convince Karen to back out and continue on the trail they had set for themselves at the start of this weeklong excursion.

The three women, friends since childhood, went on trips together every year. They rotated the responsibility for choosing the destination and planning the details for the trip. This year was Karen’s turn, and she decided that a hiking/camping trip would introduce the other two, ordinarily placid office denizens to the adventures and wonders of the wide-open wilderness. Karen was much more physical than the others were, having been an athlete her whole life, she excelled in almost all sports, including rock climbing, snowboarding, and even parachuting once or twice. She was dedicated to the idea that nature belonged to all living things, and no one had the right to claim ownership of it. So, the idea that someone would have the gall to fence off so many acres of beautiful landscape and deny others the right to experience it firsthand was intolerable. Karen felt as though cutting the hole in the fence just below the no trespassing sign was testimony to her outrage.

The sign looked very serious. It reminded Teresa of those signs in the Nevada desert that warned of Military Testing Ranges. Karen stared back at them from the other side of the fence with a defiant expression – her shiny black hair framing her face perfectly, somehow made her expression more meaningful. She stood, tapping her foot impatiently; her arms folded across her rather large chest, accentuating her 5’8” frame.
Before Nancy could rescind her decision not to enter, Karen grabbed the backpack she was sliding gently through the hole, turned and stomped off, leaving Nancy and Teresa simply looking at each other with bewildered expressions on their faces. This was the third time that Karen had pulled this. She would get angry when she couldn’t have her way, and storm off. She always turned right back around after a few moments, so the two girls weren’t concerned. Besides, Karen was the only one who really knew her way around here. She couldn’t go far.

The girls waited and waited. Karen did not return. Suddenly, Karen shrieked a terrifying cry. The girls yelled out to her.
Without any further debate about the consequences of trespassing in the state of Missouri, the two girls pulled themselves through the hole in the fence, hoisted their gear onto their backs, and began running in the direction they believed Karen’s cries to have been coming from. After a short, but frenzied search, they both began to think that Karen was simply playing a trick on them to get them to come through the hole. They decided to ignore her, and continue on. They marched deeper and deeper still into the woods, more concerned with showing their stubborn friend that they were not afraid, than they were with the fact that they were losing their bearings on familiar landmarks and time with each successive step. The canopy of giant fir trees allowed but a sprinkling of light to the floor below. Theresa marveled in her mind that it was like standing underneath a giant green, upside-down colander. The girls' steps became less determined as time passed - their initial defiance giving way to a growing concern.

Nancy looked up past a small clearing in the trees. Over the horizon, the setting sun's amber hue was making its way across the sky, merging seamlessly into darker violet bands. Night was approaching, and with the impending darkness came a tapestry of fears. Where were they? What was out there making those creepy, eerie noises? And still there was no sign, nor sound from Karen.

The girls decided to set up camp for the night, and resume the search at full light, the following day. They didn’t worry about Karen at all. On the contrary, they were more worried about their own inexperience in the wilderness, than they were Karen’s whereabouts, and for good reason. Karen was an accomplished outdoorswoman, while Teresa was an artificially tanned advertising executive without the slightest understanding of how to survive without a Bergdorf Goodmans – never mind sleeping in the…. dirt. The closest that Nancy got to the outdoors was surveying land that she planned to develop into a strip Mall. Her architectural prowess was beyond reproach in professional circles, but now, she was literally a “babe in the woods.”

The girls set up camp, just barely getting through the first job of building their tent. While Nancy headed down to a nearby stream to fill a pot with some water, not really knowing what to do with it once she had, Teresa was left with the task of gathering some wood that could be used to begin a campfire. No sooner had Nancy gotten down to the stream, when she heard Teresa cry out. The cries were long and drawn out. They seemed to be moving away from her rather than towards her. Wherever Teresa was, she was running in the wrong direction! Nancy dropped the half-filled pot of water, splashing the liquid in all directions. She turned her body 360 degrees, panting loudly as she heard her own heart beating in her ears. A wave of white-hot fear ran through Nancy’s body, surging through her blood, and racing toward her face as she heard the quickly-fading sounds of her friend’s screaming pleas. She called out to her repeatedly, but the incoherent cries dissipated with distance like steam vapor in a chilly breeze.

Nancy dashed toward the tent as though its flimsy, furling panels might offer some refuge from whatever it was out there that sent her friend screaming into the night. She sat quivering inside of the nylon tent, grabbing her legs and pulling her knees into her chest, hugging them with her arms as a child seeks comfort after hearing the boom of a thunderstorm. Her eyes were wide and ever watchful for anything out of the ordinary; but for Nancy, every thing and every sound was outside the ordinary from her daily scheduled and meticulous world. Her ears rang in registration of the alien sounds of the forest reverberating around her.

Gathering her courage, and fearing that she might never find her way out of the woods alone, Nancy grabbed a lantern and a large stick, and set about trying to find her two lost friends.

Distancing herself from camp, Nancy became more aware of the meaning of darkness than she ever thought was possible. Holding her lantern out in front of her like some revolutionary minuteman on patrol, Nancy noticed how limited the lights reach was - being almost swallowed by the outnumbering volume of blackness around her. Without the benefit of the moon reflecting off the water of the stream near camp to give some radiant light, it appeared as though the very trees enveloped her in a giant shadow of fear. Each footstep ushered in the sound of breaking twigs and shuffling leaves that Nancy unconsciously recognized as unnatural within the realm of crickets, owls, and god-knows-what-else.

Her search would not last long as she came upon a rather large wooden cabin situated in the middle of an isolated clearing, barely large enough to accommodate the building itself. Its rustic façade was reminiscent of so many such cabins she'd seen in horror movies. The relative stillness around it was unsettling, and Nancy approached with the most cautious of steps. The lantern rattled involuntarily in her hand as a result of her mounting fear and unsteadiness. She proceeded, almost too afraid to advance, but definitely too afraid to retreat.

Suddenly, Nancy heard the sound of shrieking, banging and thumping that appeared to resonate from the very floor and walls of the log and mud structured cabin. There were the distinct cries of a woman in perhaps a terrific struggle, followed by muffled, more soothing female mews, and then a deeper voice that seemed to chuckle in a most sinister way. As the sounds grew in intensity, Nancy froze, unsure of what to make of them. Her eyes scanned her immediate area trying her best to anticipate and prepare for any sudden changes - anything that would trigger her "flight" reflex.

The panting yelps got louder and louder. Through the screams and piteous cries, Nancy discerned the words "Get away." Whatever was going on in there, it sounded like someone desperately needed help. The grunts and gasps were strained and agonizing. Nancy covered her ears at the anguished pitch of it, but neared closer to the side of the cabin to try and get a look inside. She crept over to where she saw a space in the wall with light shining through it. She gently knelt to within viewing height of the space and, peeked through. What she saw sent rippling chills up her spine.

There, lying on the floor, in the dimly lit setting of an otherwise dark cabin room, barely illuminated by the single kerosene lamp set on a nearby wooden table, was a woman fettered securely at her ankles, and knees. Her wrists were trussed with rope behind her back, and she was stripped of her shirt and bra. A chain attached to a rafter in the ceiling was secured around the victim's ankle ropes, keeping her hiking boot-clad feet from touching the floor, but only by inches. Nancy could see the woman trying desperately to gain leverage by pushing off the floor with her feet, but each time she cocked her knees up and thrust her feet toward the floor, the chain stopped her from coming in contact with it. She succeeded only in pumping her legs like a pendulum back and forth. The effect was that the woman would simply kick in a swinging motion, gaining no leverage, but rather leaving her panting and gasping with increasing frustration.

She was lying on her back on the floor, at the mercy of two people. They appeared to be a man and a woman. The male figure was dressed from head to toe in leather, resembling the Gimp from Pulp Fiction. The woman was in a latex body suit - its deep black surface glistening with the sleekness of a luxury car paint job. They both wore medieval leather masks that effectively obscured their features. The female half of this dastardly duo was straddling the poor girl's waist while applying the finishing touches on what looked like a leather bondage hood of her very own. It contoured the outline of her head but allowed only her nose and mouth to protrude unobstructed. The whole thing tapered down to a neck flap that the woman was now clasping in place.

The woman's voice commanded the other captor as he applied both of his large, beefy hands to the shoulders of the wildly struggling, yet much smaller figure beneath him, effectively pinning her in place until the task of buckling her hood was complete.

Nancy glared at the spectacle unfolding before her terror-struck eyes.
The two people were on their knees now, peering down at the wriggling woman. The man was speaking to her with a steady, monotone voice.
The female chimed in with a lust-filled, almost over-excited tremor to her voice as she added her own detailing threats.

Upon registration of such a threat, the captive's struggling and screaming exploded in an instantaneous eruption of desperation. She responded in the only way her fractured thoughts could convey.

Nancy's eyes grew like saucers peering through the cabin wall's opening as she immediately identified the pleading voice...it was Karen! Nancy wanted to cry out. She dropped away from the peer hole, mouth agape, and her hands dropped to her lap as she stared at the ground. Her mind caught fire at the realization, but she was too afraid, and unprepared to launch an attack.

The very next sound burst from behind the wall. It was Karen, cackling and screaming for mercy. Nancy thrust her face back to the wall to get a look. From her vantagepoint, she couldn’t quite see what was going on, so she changed her angle slightly. She nearly cried to witness what was happening. The woman was clawing gently at Karen’s naked torso with her ultra long fingernails. The man was steadying Karen by holding her in place, and the woman was obviously tickling Karen with sadistic glee. Her fingernails twirled and danced just under Karen's naked breasts and then, descending with agonizing slowness, parted in opposite directions toward each flank. She extended her long fingers as far as they would go, wrapped them around each of Karen's sides and then dragged her fingers closed before repeating the process again.

Karen was beside herself with hysterical laughter. She kicked impotently for escape, and fought like a wildcat to turn herself over onto her stomach. Even the slightest repositioning of her body might help her to escape those cruel fingernails, if only for a moment or two. Each attempt at moving her position was simply met with the man applying opposing force to her efforts, and then pinning her down momentarily, which seemed to get an even greater panicked cry of laughter from the poor woman. The woman tickling Karen was a rehearsed sadist, if ever there was one. She was gleaming from ear to ear with the look of a mad scientist as she applied her calculating touches. When she hit a spot on Karen’s waist that was clearly too much for her to take, the woman would taunt continuously with childish chants.
Karen would spasm violently with tickled laughter, screaming and shrieking at the top of her lungs, all to the obvious amusement of her tormentors. The couple worked on poor Karen like a tag team of tickle wrestlers, shifting, positioning, pinning, and then tickling their unfairly fettered opponent. They simply would not give the girl any leverage. Karen gasped, bucked, thrusted and lurched in a desperate dance of tickle-induced mania. She hollered with such great force that the sinewy muscles of her neck were clearly visible, tracing downward to her shoulders from under her leather hood.

Nancy could not believe what she was seeing. What the hell was going on? She became frantic herself, and in her panic, bumped into the wall she was peering through and making a dull thumping sound upon impact. The couple immediately stopped tickling Karen, who took the opportunity to gasp loudly, taking in air and slumping into a quivering, tickled mess on the floor. The couple got up and looked around the cabin. Nancy decided it would be best to stay put, and keep her mouth shut. After a short investigation, the couple returned to their kneeling position at either side of Karen. They both lifted their hands in unison, wiggling their fingers threateningly more for their own delight than for the benefit of their blindfolded prisoner. Despite Karen's inability to see them, she could sense the closeness of their bodies. She unleashed a barrage of pitiful pleading, jerking her head from side to side with pathetic attempts at bargaining with these sadists. The two responded by launching a furious tickle attack aimed at her jiggling breasts and tummy.

Karen's efforts at gaining leniency were cut off in mid sentence as she was consumed with gut-wrenching laughter once again.
The woman stopped momentarily and moved herself up, just above Karen, with open legs, then lifted Karen's head and scooted her own latex covered thigh under Karen's neck. She peered down at her and began unbuckling her bondage hood as the man repositioned himself at Karen's booted feet. She then tugged the hood off to reveal a second mask - this one, the contorted face of a woman driven to the brink of tickled madness. Her disheveled hair hung in sweat-soaked clumps, raggedly framing her otherwise beautiful features. Her eyes were strained and red from having squeezed so many tears through the tightly squinted slits of her lids.

As she blinked rapidly to gain some semblance of visibility, she looked up to see the dark, excited eyes of her tormentor, peering at her through the holes of her leather mask. The woman petted Karen's head sympathetically and Karen panted weakly as she once again tried to draw compassion from this horrible woman.

For now, the man had Karen’s ankles locked snuggly under his arm and he was using his fingers to deftly unlace her boots, and pull them from her struggling feet. Karen could not see her own feet, for they were blocked by the man's large frame, but each of her boots came into view as it passed through the air to come clunking down beside her. She wiggled her toes in her thin, white socks, which were surprisingly dry from the insulation of her boots' lining. But this modicum of protection would soon be stripped away as the man grabbed the rim of Karen's socks and slowly peeled them down, around her ankles and finally off the toes of each, now naked foot. The woman looked down at Karen and smiled. Karen could see only the woman's eyes, but she noticed the telltale signs of a smile as the corners of the woman's eyes crinkled slightly. Karen was lost in a hell from which she could not escape. She began pleading again, her voice trembling and crackling in a mixture of fear and exhaustion, yet she strongly tried to maintain composure.

Karen’s slew of rapid-fire mercy-cries was cut raggedly short as her voice rasped through a renewed release of cackling laughter. The man was using his fingers to drill into the soles and between the toes of Karen's incredibly ticklish feet. He chuckled as he tickled, seeming to enjoy with great pleasure, the agonized screeching his tickling fingers were wringing from this helpless creature. Karen's feet slapped together trying desperately to protect themselves from the invading marauders. No amount of toe wiggling or attempted foot covering could grant her respite from this torture. He changed techniques and began a steady scratching on the flat part of Karen's heels. His fingers simply flicked up and down, applying his short nails against the highly agitated skin there, never traveling higher than the base of her arch, before descending to the edge of her heel and back again...and again....and again.

To add even more torture to this poor girl, the woman was now using the very hand she had used to soothingly stroke Karen's hair earlier to tickle Karen's neck, ears, shoulders and nipples with no predictable pattern. The combination of the two was driving Karen insane.

Nancy couldn’t watch any longer, and sneaked away into the woods to think. She didn’t wander far enough to escape the piercing cries of her friend’s gut wrenching laughter wafting through the window and into the surrounding woods. Tears welled in Nancy’s eyes as she found herself alone, lost and at a quandary about how to possibly rescue her friend from these fiends. The sound of Karen’s laughter was steady and agonizing. Nancy covered her ears with the heels of her hands and sulked hopelessly to the ground. She sobbed quietly.

She didn't know how long she sat there. But by the time she removed her hands from her ears, the laughter had stopped. There was a still in the air. The orange glow of the early morning sun was making its familiar journey from a far away horizon. And that made Nancy feel as though she was more vulnerable to being discovered.
Thoughts of her friend quickly turned to concern for her current position. Perhaps she should have moved farther away. At least under the cover of darkness and her friend’s sickening laughter, she could have escaped. Now she was stuck only a few yards from the cabin and daybreak was upon her. She was desperately alone, and began to cry once again.

Nancy crept slowly from her position and moved back toward the edge of the woods, praying silently that she could get away and find someone to help her. She covered her nose and mouth with her own hand as she inched her way farther from the cabin, attempting to mute the sounds of her gasping sobs. Just as she reached the entrance back into the abysmal forest once again, she heard something. Her breathing stopped cold, but her heart pounded loudly in her chest. Her ears rang with the dull thumping of her terror stricken pulse.

There it was again - a rustling behind her. She thought for sure she had been discovered, and stood to flee, but the rustling also produced a squealing sound. It sounded like the muffled screams of someone with a pillow over their head. She turned and walked several paces until she came to a large pile of leaves. The squealing was coming from underneath. Gingerly, Nancy removed the leaves with the backs of her hands. Beneath the pile, was her other friend, Teresa. The small blonde was inside a large burlap sack with her two bare feet sticking out of the cinched end. Around the sack were wraps of duct tape that effectively trapped the girl inside, and motionless.

Nancy scrambled to the bottom end of the sack after discovering that the cinched end had a small padlock on it, trapping Teresa inside without any hope of escape. Nancy pulled a loose thread at the bottom of the sack, and unraveled enough of the material to get her fingers in and tear a large hole in it. Inside, Teresa was gagged with the very same duct tape that was used to mummify her.

Nancy pulled the tape off of Teresa’s mouth as she struggled with the rest of the bondage cocoon.
Nancy tried to shush Teresa.
Teresa was frantic and frightened. She couldn't control the pitch and volume of her voice.
Nancy turned to find something sharp that might cut the tape. She wandered out of Teresa’s sight, past some trees in search of something, anything that might be able to free her friend.
She reached for a jagged rock, poking out of the soil like gold bullion uncovering itself fetchingly to a deep-sea treasure diver. Nancy scooped the sharpened stone into her hand and held it up to look down its razor edge when she heard the door to the cabin open.

Nancy crouched down quickly behind the camouflaging foliage of shrubbery.
Two sets of footsteps now breached the early morning quiet. They got closer and closer. Teresa cried out.
It was too late. Nancy would have never had enough time to free her friend and get away herself. Why didn't Teresa listen to her and keep her mouth shut. Now she had drawn these psychos' attention.

Nancy listened intently from several yards away. Teresa's shouting had turned to grunting and sobbing. Then...
The familiar taunting tones of the couple could be heard by Nancy, but not understood. Then she heard Teresa become frantic.
Suddenly, Teresa went breathless. A frightfully long wheeze squeezed past her vocal chords as if a large, crushing weight had been just dropped onto her diaphragm. The squeaking exhalation drew itself out in a timeless wave, levitating momentarily as its pitch widened in a nearly inaudible fury, before shattering into splinters of guttural cackling hysterics.

The reason for such a reaction Would have been obvious to Nancy, had she been close enough to witness, but she was forced to simply listen, and imagine the fate befalling her friend.

The couple from the cabin had found her alright. And now, the man was straddling Teresa’s waist, facing her head, as she lay mummified on her stomach in the pile of soft leaves. He was sticking a pine branch in through the hole in the bag created by Nancy and was tickling the nape of Teresa’s neck and shoulders toward her spine. The whisking, pointy needles had more than a maddening effect on her. Her shoulder and neck muscles seized up like a vice one second, and convulsed the next. With each successive flick of the invasive, needling fronds, her neck cringed with tightness and quivered from holding the muscular contraction. Her head snapped back time and again as he quickly discovered that the very base of her neck; just a millimeter above her shoulder line was a swirling hotbed of ticklish nerve concentration. He ripped the bag open more to further expose her bare neck and back and then resumed the tickling from mid spine to the base of her skull, making sure to linger for long seconds at a time in that one, unbearable spot.

A guttural spillage of air and saliva shot passed her gritting teeth. Her face squinted like a child tasting a raw lemon for the first time. Her shoulder-blades seized towards each other as though attempting to gnash like giant teeth to soothe the itching, tickling sensations, vibrating with the strain, but unable to relax from the continued stimulation.

If that wasn’t enough, the woman had Teresa’s ankles locked in a scissor-hold between her two strong thighs, and was using a similar pine branch, covered with prickly pine needles to gently tickle the soft arches of her exploited bare feet. She skittered the points from her arches to her wildly flexing toes, concentrating on the balls of her feet, which drew inhuman howls of maniacal laughter. The sensations were completely overwhelming Teresa's mind, thrusting aside all other thoughts that may have sought to compete for her attention. The blood rushed to her head at terrific speed, turning her neck bright red where the tickling branch dallied and flickered repeatedly.

True to their last performance, the couple interrogated Teresa without mercy.
There was literally nothing that she could say. They wouldn’t stop long enough for her to answer. They would just keep tickling and asking questions. Teresa struggled like a mouse in a snake’s grip – her toes quivering involuntarily to the maddening over-stimulation of her ticklish bare feet. Her head bobbed up and down, and left to right as the man traced his tickling tool over her shoulders and behind her ears.

Nancy hunched over in the shadows, afraid to do or say anything. For the second time and for the second friend, Nancy had been powerless to assist. She could just listen and pray that it would soon be over. Suddenly, the piercing screams got louder, and Teresa became even more frantic. What Nancy didn’t know was that the woman had loosened the cinch, lifted the hem of the bag up past Teresa’s calves, sat on her ankles and was using that pine branch on the backs of her knees. The screams were incredible, and Teresa broke yet again into fitful screams, confessing to Nancy's whereabouts, but being ignored for the sake of more tickling.
The torture continued on and on. The tickling duo would not be satisfied with a confession after all. It seemed that was just a ruse as their ultimate gratification was derived from tickling a truly helpless person past their point of tolerance. Despite Teresa’s repeated confessions and the blood-curdling cries of laughter that can only come from someone who is being tickled into feverish desperation, the two continued the questioning and tickling without respite.
"Where, you say?" The man asked again as he continued.
Teresa frantically tried to make herself understood, but her resolve was being stifled by her growing hysteria.
The taunting seemed to energize Teresa's wild attempts to escape the tickling, and when the torment had become too unbearable for her to take any longer, Teresa dropped into unconsciousness with a thud.

Nancy scrambled to her feet, and darted into the thicket, no longer concerned about concealing her presence, but instead, in distancing herself from these maniacs as quickly as her feet would take her. The leather couple looked up from Teresa's limp body immediately upon hearing the noise. They pulled off their masks, looked at each other and just smiled without taking pursuit.

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That night, Nancy packed up everything she could carry and started out to look for help. It was no use in trying to save the two women by herself. If they caught her, they would just tie her up and tickle her to death. It would be better to find someone who could help.

Nancy walked through the night, stumbling and fumbling with nothing more than a vague remembrance of which way they had come to get to the camp. She searched for familiar landmarks, but no matter how hard she tried to remember, everything looked the same. Finally, Nancy saw a light in the distance. It appeared to be the light from a window of some sorts. She picked up her pace and ran toward the light. Soon, she could see that the light was from the window of a house. As she approached the house, it became clear where she was. It was the same cabin that she had been at the night before. Nancy had gone in a 4-hour circle. She was right back where she started. And the sounds coming from inside the cabin told her that Karen was right where she started as well.

Curiosity overcame Nancy, and she looked through the window, this time without as much caution as last time. A fireplace in the den warmly lighted the room. There was a group of people in the cabin now. They were all laughing and talking amongst themselves, surrounding a piece of furniture. No, not furniture, but a rack...an X frame rack…and strapped to it by over 20 padded, leather belts, was Karen, completely naked and screaming like a lunatic as nearly 10 people tickled her on every inch of her naked body with pointed, stiff-bristled brushes.

The tickling was so severe that Karen didn’t even beg. She just laughed and screamed and laughed some more. Her wild, frantic tugging and twisting was a blatant announcement to her tormentors that they were doing a more than adequate job in driving her thoroughly out of her mind. Seated in a corner of the room, and tied helplessly in place, was Teresa, forced to look on as her friend was tickled to the point of madness by these fiendish people.

Nancy grabbed a handful of her own hair and began running around the back of the cabin. She stumbled to the ground right in front of an SUV. She collected herself and entered the vehicle, looking for keys. She rummaged through the glove compartment, and the sun visor, and finally the console. She found a brochure with a picture of a pair of soles being tickled with a feather. She opened it and began reading inside. The brochure was an invitation and reservation for a place called the “Tickling Resort.”
“Come join us for the fantasy of a lifetime! You'll be our guest on our sprawling 5600-acre fantasy camp, nestled snuggly in the heart of the Missouri Mountains. Your week-long stay will include all the best amenities, a fully stocked log cabin for entertaining, your choice of restraint equipment, Tickling techniques sessions, group play, and our very own "Spy Capture" interactive psychodrama role-plays, running 24 hours a day to registered participants. Our unique submissives come to us from all over the country, specially selected for ticklishness, tolerance, and a love for intense no-mercy submission. They're ability to stay in character even under the most stringent game play will amaze and satisfy even the most discerning of our tickle tops. You'll swear you died and went to tickle heaven! Remember, at the Tickling Resort, we always "Resort To Tickling!"

Nancy screamed loud enough to arouse attention from inside the cabin. Three people rushed out of the cabin and caught glimpse of Nancy as she ran into the woods.
A very excited woman wrung her hands together as she exited the cabin with the others.
They all took off after Nancy.

Nancy’s booted footsteps pattered loudly against the leaf-covered ground of the dense woods. The slim, 25-year-old redhead raced amongst the trees, slaloming around each trunk, unimpeded by the veil of darkness imposed by the night. Whispers that can only be described as chuckling evil surround her like a mist, unseen, but very much heard. She pants with desperate anxiety – her breathing is heavy, fluttering wheezes of air laced with the chirping of her strained vocal chords, which vibrate with chilling fear upon each gated thud of her steps. She looks behind her. Her deep blue eyes scan the blackness with erratic, desperate expression.

The sounds followed her with taunting persistence, like her own shadow, daunting and imminent, as though poised to pounce at any moment. Her arms flailed at her sides like two tardy passengers clinging to the sides of a speeding train - a testimony to her legs commitment to continue moving at all costs. Her bare legs brushed against the scratching branches of brush that endlessly whipped against her flesh as she dashed onward, stumbling without direction. Her small, pert breasts bounced beneath her dampened Cal Tech T-shirt to the rhythm of each running step.

Suddenly, without warning, Nancy was tackled by someone who then grabbed her ankle and would not let go. Dozens of hands then reached out to seize her, pulling her to the ground as she desperately attempted to free herself. The hands grabbed and clawed at Nancy, pulling her down onto a pile of awaiting assailants, whom wrestled her to the ground and began tickling her everywhere. Hands slid under her T-shirt, inside her sleeves, and up her short pant legs to tweak and tickle her tummy, armpits, knees and upper thighs. Nancy cried out wildly and succumbed to hellish laughter as the tickling persisted.
Suddenly, the group released her and allowed her to escape, only to give chase once again. Nancy scrambled to her feet, screeching inhumanly as she rushed to get away from them. They jeered, cackled and taunted as they followed closely behind.

Incredibly, Nancy cleared the brush to see, just up ahead, a Park Rangers 4-wheel drive vehicle. It was just getting ready to pull away. Nancy screamed as she ran toward it, waving her arms frantically in the air. The Ranger stopped and jumped from the truck.
He held his arms open gently and Nancy slammed into him almost without breaking stride, then whipped around behind him, dropped to her knees and cowered at his feet. Using one hand to reach behind him to seemingly shelter Nancy, the large Ranger unsnapped the flap of his gun holster and placed his hand over the grip in a precautionary measure as he looked past the frantic girl and into the darkness. Whoops, shrieks and giggles could be heard coming from the trees, but no one other than Nancy had emerged.

The Ranger turned to Nancy and comforted her.
He helped her to her feet and guided Nancy to the passenger side of his vehicle. After closing the door behind him, he walked around the front of the vehicle, got in and started it up. As he placed the truck into drive, he looked at Nancy with a concerned look on his face.
He began driving; turning on the searchlight mounted over the driver's door and slowly scanned the forest as he drove slowly down the dirt trail.
The Ranger tried again to soothe her.
Nancy tugged the brochure she had found at the cabin from her shorts and shakily tried to show it to the Ranger. She pulled open the brochure and pointed to the description inside. She was still shaking and making unintelligible sounds, but she pointed with a rapidly tapping index finger.
The Ranger turned onto a long, narrow trail. Nancy was relieved to feel that she would be safe once they reached the Ranger's station, and began to slowly calm down.

Nancy's jaw fell open in horror. She slowly lowered the brochure to her lap and raised her head to look out the window as the Ranger's vehicle approached a light just up ahead. As they neared the building, Nancy began gibbering like a loon, for the building was the same cabin she had fled from for the second time.
As the truck pulled to a stop, the cabin door flew open and the same group that had been pursuing her earlier rushed the vehicle, seized Nancy like a marauding horde, and pulled her from her seat.
As Nancy was dragged kicking and screaming toward the awaiting door of the cabin, she noticed a lone figure passing her on the way out. It was the Latex Lady Nancy had seen torturing Karen 2 days ago. She was carrying a leather bondage mask in her hand as she approached the Ranger.
The two of them smiled at each other then turned and walked toward the cabin door.

The end

wow just like the blair witch project.. and what an ending. i wonder if there really are resorts such as this, dedicated to tickle torturing submissives or others.. fantastic as always Shadow.. i've read this now about hmm i don't know how many times, and each time it just gets better and better..