ticklishscribe
3rd Level Violet Feather
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2002
- Messages
- 7,692
- Points
- 38
Comments left their are always appreciated.
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?318326-I-just-couldn-t-stop-writing
“Are you still telling me no trespassing? Do you want me to rustle about the undergrowth again and see if I can find that sign? Or maybe, you just want to believe that there is a no trespassing sign somewhere about you.”
I spider five fingers in your armpit and instantly you begin violently struggling once more; bucking, writhing, and pulling on the restraints like there is no tomorrow. I am delighted and continue, spidering fast and slow and watching you rocket around. I know there is no sign here, but I still keep feeling around, to keep you off guard and jumpy. I giggle back at you, and tickle from the deepest recess, all over to the outer edges and back, and once again you arch your back in the worst way. I tell you that this isn’t the beginning of the end, nor is it the end of the beginning, because it is just the edge of the beginning of the beginning. This has you shriek once more and for the first-time yell “Mother of God no,” and I am even more delighted in your reactions.
You shriek as the owl feather meets with your armpit once more, ever so lightly teasing you around the edge of your undergrowth, then slowly swishing out to the outer edges and once more back in again. But I make no pattern as I do this, so that you have no idea of where I will strike next and I feel this will drive you even more crazy.
“Get that fucking owl away from me!!!”
“Did you know that the first nations believe that when the owl calls their name, it means their life will soon be over?”
You shriek.
I guess in your case it means tickled beyond hope.” I giggle at you. Do you remember the crosses you saw outside, and how you offered your sympathies on the deaths of my pets? Well those weren’t pet’s names; they are the names of the girls I’ve previously tickled. They have nice resting places now. And, I have to add, they don’t compare in any way, shape or form in the intense reactions that you’re giving me. And so, we must keep this up.”
This time you don’t shriek but scream, and its echo can be heard throughout the forest, and I am totally delighted and continue feathering. But now I am wildly flitting the feather this way and that, like a Jackson Pollak painting, and you are doing everything you can and more to bring your arm down. The colour I’m using at the moment, to paint you my canvas, is tickle red and you can’t take it, and so I think it’s time I brought out the quill pallet knife. And so, rotating the feather, without missing a stroke, I now use the quill end in the same fashion, lightly flicking the tip over all areas of your armpit and this has you rocket even more.
“Isn’t it nice of the owl to lend me his rake to help me find the no trespassing sign, that you keep saying is here. But it’s not here in this undergrowth, and so maybe it’s in the undergrowth on the other side?”
Again, you scream mother of god no, once more and become a blur on the bed, which has me giggle out loud at you and get up. Moving to the other side of the bed, I stop for a brief moment and flit the feather end over your now very moist mound, and watch in fervid and ravenous delight as you writhe and rock your hips, arch your back, and fall back onto the bed. Moving still further, I let the feather, l lightly let the feather caress and fly over your toes, first one way then the other, and you shriek again and begin frantically begging me to stop. I let the feather now encircle your sole, swooping in to hunt and capture its prey, your toe joints, then to swoop in to hunt and capture the ball of your foot, and then once more to hunt and capture your tender arch. The entire sole is taken last, and as I swoop the feather over your sole several times, your foot and leg are in lightning movement, and the rest of you is just as bad. The thunder cracks and rolls as if on cue and you shriek and scream once more.
“And isn’t it nice that this owl loves your foot and can’t wait to meet the other one.”
And with that, I begin feather the other one, and hear you shriek and scream once more, adding to the sadistic pleasure of this moment. But it’s the other undergrowth I want, to see it that sign that you keep telling me about, is really there. You shriek once more as the feather swoops in from your elbow and swoops out at the bottom edge of your armpit, then swoops back in. I flit it about in the deepest recess, seeking out every nook and cranny that may hold the sign, making sure that you feel me giving you my utmost. Now I let the quill end lightly and rapidly short stroke your armpit all over and still you scream once more.
Placing the feather on the side table, I lean forward and begin lightly short licking the armpit and this has you explode by growling the word no, several times in succession, and I am thoroughly delighted with your reaction. The restraints have never gotten this kind of a workout before, and I’m glad I thought to bring a spare set, just in case. I continue licking slowly, from the outer edge, working to the deepest recess, then back out again. I then intwine this with teasing your armpit hair between my fingers, with light tugs and spiders, and you rock the bed more.
Your musky sweat is exquisitely delicious, and I happily lick away, knowing that your intense writhing, is producing a never-ending supply. The more I lick, the more you sweat, and the more you sweat the more I lick, and I am so loving this deliciously viscous little scenario that so brutally tortures you. But now I cease licking, pick up the owl feather once more, and begin to lightly flit it from side to side across your neck and this has you scrunch it to protect at all costs. Your head is violently rocking from side to side, trying everything to get away from the murderous feather, but I continue, delighting in the severely limited movement that you have. Your neck is another canvas and I happily paint away. The laughter coming from you is permeated with shrieks, screams and still more guttural long tones. I give you a few more swoops with the feather, then lay it on the table again.
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?318326-I-just-couldn-t-stop-writing
“Are you still telling me no trespassing? Do you want me to rustle about the undergrowth again and see if I can find that sign? Or maybe, you just want to believe that there is a no trespassing sign somewhere about you.”
I spider five fingers in your armpit and instantly you begin violently struggling once more; bucking, writhing, and pulling on the restraints like there is no tomorrow. I am delighted and continue, spidering fast and slow and watching you rocket around. I know there is no sign here, but I still keep feeling around, to keep you off guard and jumpy. I giggle back at you, and tickle from the deepest recess, all over to the outer edges and back, and once again you arch your back in the worst way. I tell you that this isn’t the beginning of the end, nor is it the end of the beginning, because it is just the edge of the beginning of the beginning. This has you shriek once more and for the first-time yell “Mother of God no,” and I am even more delighted in your reactions.
You shriek as the owl feather meets with your armpit once more, ever so lightly teasing you around the edge of your undergrowth, then slowly swishing out to the outer edges and once more back in again. But I make no pattern as I do this, so that you have no idea of where I will strike next and I feel this will drive you even more crazy.
“Get that fucking owl away from me!!!”
“Did you know that the first nations believe that when the owl calls their name, it means their life will soon be over?”
You shriek.
I guess in your case it means tickled beyond hope.” I giggle at you. Do you remember the crosses you saw outside, and how you offered your sympathies on the deaths of my pets? Well those weren’t pet’s names; they are the names of the girls I’ve previously tickled. They have nice resting places now. And, I have to add, they don’t compare in any way, shape or form in the intense reactions that you’re giving me. And so, we must keep this up.”
This time you don’t shriek but scream, and its echo can be heard throughout the forest, and I am totally delighted and continue feathering. But now I am wildly flitting the feather this way and that, like a Jackson Pollak painting, and you are doing everything you can and more to bring your arm down. The colour I’m using at the moment, to paint you my canvas, is tickle red and you can’t take it, and so I think it’s time I brought out the quill pallet knife. And so, rotating the feather, without missing a stroke, I now use the quill end in the same fashion, lightly flicking the tip over all areas of your armpit and this has you rocket even more.
“Isn’t it nice of the owl to lend me his rake to help me find the no trespassing sign, that you keep saying is here. But it’s not here in this undergrowth, and so maybe it’s in the undergrowth on the other side?”
Again, you scream mother of god no, once more and become a blur on the bed, which has me giggle out loud at you and get up. Moving to the other side of the bed, I stop for a brief moment and flit the feather end over your now very moist mound, and watch in fervid and ravenous delight as you writhe and rock your hips, arch your back, and fall back onto the bed. Moving still further, I let the feather, l lightly let the feather caress and fly over your toes, first one way then the other, and you shriek again and begin frantically begging me to stop. I let the feather now encircle your sole, swooping in to hunt and capture its prey, your toe joints, then to swoop in to hunt and capture the ball of your foot, and then once more to hunt and capture your tender arch. The entire sole is taken last, and as I swoop the feather over your sole several times, your foot and leg are in lightning movement, and the rest of you is just as bad. The thunder cracks and rolls as if on cue and you shriek and scream once more.
“And isn’t it nice that this owl loves your foot and can’t wait to meet the other one.”
And with that, I begin feather the other one, and hear you shriek and scream once more, adding to the sadistic pleasure of this moment. But it’s the other undergrowth I want, to see it that sign that you keep telling me about, is really there. You shriek once more as the feather swoops in from your elbow and swoops out at the bottom edge of your armpit, then swoops back in. I flit it about in the deepest recess, seeking out every nook and cranny that may hold the sign, making sure that you feel me giving you my utmost. Now I let the quill end lightly and rapidly short stroke your armpit all over and still you scream once more.
Placing the feather on the side table, I lean forward and begin lightly short licking the armpit and this has you explode by growling the word no, several times in succession, and I am thoroughly delighted with your reaction. The restraints have never gotten this kind of a workout before, and I’m glad I thought to bring a spare set, just in case. I continue licking slowly, from the outer edge, working to the deepest recess, then back out again. I then intwine this with teasing your armpit hair between my fingers, with light tugs and spiders, and you rock the bed more.
Your musky sweat is exquisitely delicious, and I happily lick away, knowing that your intense writhing, is producing a never-ending supply. The more I lick, the more you sweat, and the more you sweat the more I lick, and I am so loving this deliciously viscous little scenario that so brutally tortures you. But now I cease licking, pick up the owl feather once more, and begin to lightly flit it from side to side across your neck and this has you scrunch it to protect at all costs. Your head is violently rocking from side to side, trying everything to get away from the murderous feather, but I continue, delighting in the severely limited movement that you have. Your neck is another canvas and I happily paint away. The laughter coming from you is permeated with shrieks, screams and still more guttural long tones. I give you a few more swoops with the feather, then lay it on the table again.
