The-Tickling-Master
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- Joined
- Apr 22, 2017
- Messages
- 28
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Mary took a deep breath, letting the pure air of Alabama enter her lungs and recharge her soul. There was absolutely nothing better in the world than that smell of freshly-cut grass, of woods and animals crawling just out of view, of… Plainly put: Nature. A small cabin in the forest, just her and her family to enjoy a relaxing weekend, as God intended.
She gently pulled on her plaid halter top to make the air flow within, in a somewhat-effective effort to fight the humid heat. She, naturally, was wearing the daisy dukes that always made her husband go wild (and, often, other dudes walking around her…), and those helped too, as did the short haircut she had switched to a few months ago, golden locks going no further than her shoulders now. And perhaps even more refreshing was the feeling of the grass under her bare feet, lingering cold dew still present. She smiled, utterly content and at peace. That was the life she deserved.
Her husband and her younger son had gone out fishing, leaving her to enjoy the peace of the cabin almost alone. Almost. From the corner of her eye, Mary noticed movement, and it was not any of the animals in the wood. After all, none of them had blond pigtails, or that expression of someone who really didn’t want to be there. Most importantly, none of them decided to wear a goddamn sweater at 90ºF heat – because they knew better. In an equally unnatural defiance of everything that was good about being in such an environment, her daughter – for that was that figure, Mary’s 20-year-old daughter, Julia – wore sneakers.
Mary sighed, spreading her own toes, as if trying to get enough grass for the both of them. “Honey, why are you dressed like that?” She asked, trying to hide her annoyance a bit. She didn’t want Julie to feel bad, necessarily, but why couldn’t she just learn to enjoy nature and dress like the sexy southern lady that both of them were? Julie was always trying to hide her features, dress modestly, be antisocial, and it drove Mary nuts! She was older than Mary was when Mary got pregnant of her, for Christ’s sake! She needed to flaunt her body to get a good man, before she lost that youthful spark!
“I prefer like that, mom.” Julie said, simply; she did not bother hiding her annoyance, and that enraged Mary somewhat.
“You should try something different. Just once. And for the love of God, at least get rid of that sweater! I’m getting sweaty just from watching you!” Mary said. Julie rolled her eyes. Mary squinted hers, a face of warning that was swiftly ignored as Julie turned around and started getting back into the cabin.
That was the limit for Mary. She was hot-blooded, after all. “Now, wait a minute, miss – you don’t turn your back on your mother as she is speaking to you!” She said, storming after her daughter. Julie stopped where she was, turning around with a surprised expression.
“Mom, you know I hate these trips, please just leave me alone.” Julie replied; a critical mistake, as that gave time for Mary to close the distance between them. The mother grabbed her daughter’s wrist in a powerful, inescapable grasp, and Julie’s expression turned into one of fear. “Let me go, you crazy woman!”
“I’ve always avoided disciplining you. Maybe it’s time I fix that mistake.” Mary said.
“If you dare hit me, I’ll tell dad. You know he won’t allow it!” Julie retorted, and Mary knew she was right. She and her husband had a deal growing up: No hitting the kids. A stupid rule that she capitulated to for the sake of her husband. But it’s okay. She had been cooking up this idea for a while. If her daughter was anything like herself, Mary knew it would be extremely effective. And she doubted she’d ever have as good of a chance to teach Julie a lesson as she did today, alone in the cabin with the boys away for the whole afternoon.
Yeah. It was time to put the mommy pants on. Well, the mommy daisy dukes.
Julie tried to resist, but she was frail and weak, as she never wasted much time with exercise. Mary wasn’t exactly a powerlifter, but she had been decently active during her life, and built up enough muscles to overpower Julie as she tackled her daughter to a nearby sofa. She looked around for something to restrain her daughter in while the girl protested in shock. Nothing in sight. Until a lightbulb moment struck. The answer was right in her face – literally.
She started taking off Julie’s sweater. The girl tried to fight but, again, it was hopeless – and as the tugging and pulling started to threatening to rip it accidentally, her efforts died down. Better to lose it now than destroy it forever. Underneath, Julie was wearing something so much better that Mary got even angrier – it’s as if the kid was taunting her! Such a beautiful gym top, black and sleeveless, perfect for this weather! No matter. She quickly continued the little tussle, bringing Julie’s wrists together, and trying them up with the long sweater sleeves. Forcing them downwards, she managed to tie the other end to the sofa’s leg.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Julie protested, squirming against her bonds. Unfortunately for her, Mary knew how to tie a good knot, even with something less than ideal like that sweater. And with herself straddling the girl’s waist, Julie was absolutely not going anywhere until Mary decided it was time.
“Being a mother. It’s high time I teach you how to be more lady-like and enjoy nature, miss. All of this stuff is not going to be healthy for you long-term!” She says. “And I know how to do it. I am your mother, after all.” She said – and as she did, her hands lunged forward, digging into Julie’s ribs. Even through the thin fabric of her top, the reaction was instant; Julie buckled as if electrocuted, pulling with all her might against her restraints. No longer she seemed worried about preserving the sweater – however, unfortunately for her, the material was quite stretchy, and didn’t buckle.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!” She screamed, finally some real emotion invading her voice, shattering the monotonic, languid demeanor from before. It was the most alive Mary had seen her daughter in years, and brought a satisfied smile to her face. “DOHOHOHNT TIHIHIHIHKCKCLEHEHEHE MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”
“I can’t hit you, so that’s the best substitute. Or, frankly, maybe even the best option altogether.” Mary said, as she continued to explore. She actually remembered once her own mother disciplined her in such a way, a long time ago. For different reasons, of course – instead of for lack of femininity and outgoingness, she was actually tickled for being too outgoing and causing some problems by flirting with a boy that was already taken, and was the son of a friend of the family. Huh, curious. Mary hadn’t thought of that in so long, almost as if the memory had been buried. But she definitely remembered now the horrid feelings of her mom’s nails trailing through her belly, scratching on her armpits; the sudden flood of memories made her shudder.
And the fact that it ultimately didn’t work did not even cross her mind. She was a woman on a mission: to tickle the ever-loving shit out of her rebellious daughter. The memories did serve one purpose, though: Remind her the effectiveness of well-kept nails. Like hers were. She relaxed a bit on the touch, instead of going full-fingered into it; she reached a bit lower, leaving the ribs and into the lower flanks; and, much like on that faithful night, she just let her nails glide through her daughter’s belly, starting spread on her sides and slowly converging into her navel, where they all met, only to spread apart again in the opposite flow. Back and forth, back and forth, slowly but not too slowly.
Julie buckled forward once more, screaming like a banshee. It was very clear the technique was just as effective as it had been decades ago. Tears were now running down her face, externalizing just how much the ordeal was getting to her. “MOHOHOHOHMMMM!!” She screamed, to uncaring ears.
“You have such a cute belly! If you exercised just a little bit more, you’d have a flat stomach, maybe even some abs, and get any guy you could possibly want!” Mary said, as she continued torturing her daughter. “Why must you be like this, daughter mine? It’s okay. I’ll teach you better, today.”
Julie felt violated and betrayed. She never saw eye-to-eye to her mom, but she never expected she would actually hurt her like this. She never expected to be this ticklish either! Before today, she’d only been tickled very casually – a playful poke from one of her rare friends or something to that degree. As such, she was completely overwhelmed by the powerful and unfamiliar sensations ravaging her body. Her brain simply did not know how to cope with such intense stimulation. Surrender crossed her mind, for sure; a big part of her refused, but then there was the simple matter that her brain lacked the power to process it and actually decide. It ended up settling on struggling, like a trapped feral animal, twitching and twisting on her bonds uselessly, but always hopeful maybe the next tug would bring the desired freedom.
It did not. It only brought more prodding fingers, more skittering nails, more ticklish agony.
Mary was having fun. She could swear her daughter was even more ticklish than herself! Which was actually quite impressive. And her skin was just so soft! Perhaps due to the lack of exposure to the sun? Or the lack of exercise combined with the low-consumption-diet to create just the perfect amount of “give” under her fingers! It was weird to describe it like this, but her upperbody was just physically pleasant to tickle. Mary spent a few minutes just testing different ways of applying her fingers to her daughter’s flesh, delighting herself in the sensations. Finally, something else caught her eyes.
Her daughter’s armpits. It was Mary’s own particular weakness. If anyone dug into them, it was over for the blondie. Maybe it was the same for her daughter? She attacked, suddenly shifting her full focus to those spots, one hand on each, scratching the hollows with vigor.
Julie exploded in mad laughter. It was considerably louder and more intense than on her midsection; if she seemed very ticklish before, now she looked unbearably so. And, for just one insane moment, Mary wondered if maybe her laughter and screaming would attract someone’s attention. In the city, the police would certainly have been called by now. But she breathed deep, reminding herself they were alone. The boys were down by the lake at this moment. And as loud as Julie was, her voice couldn’t reach there.
Julie was entirely under her mercy.
The younger girl knew it, and hated it. She never felt so powerless. She was desperately trying to tell her mom she’d do whatever the older woman wanted, but the words just got swallowed by the laughter. A never-ending torrent of laughter, pouring from her lips with no room for anything else. Forced laughter, tormented laughter, desperate, coarse, pleading laughter. She pulled and pulled her arms but the sweater didn’t allow her freedom, didn’t buckle or rip. For the love of God, she needed something to make that horrid tickling stop!
And, almost as if answering her prayers, her mother finally, finally stopped. She was left gasping for air and choking on her own tears and saliva, trying to recover from the grueling ordeal.
“Stop…” She muttered weakly, begging, trying to look at her mother. But when she turned to the maternal figure, she realized she was no longer straddled – and Mary had left the couch entirely. That let Julie’s relief increase even further, glad for it to finally be over.
Until she felt the iron grip of Mary’s arm envelop both of her ankles, creating a makeshift stockade. She started, with the free hand, taking off Julie’s sneakers and her black socks, commenting “These are so awful. You’re going to start using sandals from now on – or even better, go barefoot!”. She tossed them out towards the trash and, surprisingly, sent them both in despite the distance. Perhaps Mary would have made for a good basketball player in a different life.
As soon as her nails started making contact with the bare feet, Julie’s world vanished from view. That was intense. Even more so than everything she endured before. The worst part is that her mother wasn’t even doing a good job at it – with only one hand to explore both soles, and the awkward angle of the grasp, Mary could only aimlessly scrap her fingers on a pair of very struggling soles. And yet, it was making Julie completely lose her mind. She tried pulling her legs free, but her mother’s strong grasp made that a vain hope.
“MOHOHOHM!! MOHOHOHHOMMYYY!!” She screamed, feeling humiliated, but the desperation easily overtaking her pride. She tried to twist from side to side, but the sweater bondage remained as unrelenting as ever. She was fully crying now – not merely tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, but full-on sobbing and guffawing.
And yet, Mary couldn’t hear it. It’s as if she had been bewitched. Enchanted by her daughter’s melodic, tortured laughter. It didn’t take long for her to realize the same her daughter did: The process was inefficient. She needed to find a better way to restrain those legs. The idea eventually came to her: She maneuvered in a way that allowed her to sit on Julie’s shins, finally freeing both of her hands. The daughter screamed in horror after realizing what was about to happen – and then screamed in pure ticklish agony as both of Mary’s hands started exploring her soles. This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening.
Nothing in this world should tickle this bad as those awful nails of Mary dragging themselves through the crunched-up folds of Julie’s struggling soles. And yet, they did. The reality of the situation was undeniable; it shot through her nerves, up her spine, in an overwhelming fashion. Not only was it real, but it was the only real thing in the world; every thought, every feeling, every desire she ever had was lost in a storm of ticklish mirth, of pulling muscles against their bonds, of forced laughter. She barely remembered why her mother even begun tickling her in the first place, but she knew it didn’t matter – whatever she wanted, she’d have, so long as she stopped. But she didn’t even give Julie the chance to plead…
Mary also remembered having her feet tormented like that once. Not by family – not that time. At the ripe age of 18, she had gotten her left foot stuck in a fence after climbing it to leave their neighbor’s ranch one day – yes, she was a rascal even in adulthood. And, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get it out. The struggle attracted the neighbor’s dog. It approached, curious, and begun sniffing and licking at her bare foot; it drove Mary completely insane. She screamed for almost a full hour as the curious animal continued to explore the wriggling appendage. Despite the volume of hers, neither her parents or the owners of the ranch came to rescue, busy as they were with their game of cards. Only when the dog naturally lost it’s curiosity was poor Mary left alone to recover.
Why all of these ticklish memories coming up so sudden, she wondered? If some therapist knew, they’d probably throw all sorts of stupid nonsense at her to try to explain it, which is why she didn’t bother with those types.
The started playing with the full extent of the canvas available to her. She needed to figure out what spots were worse, after all! Nails glided through the whole feet – attacking the soles, burrowing between and under toes, skittering on the arches, and even exploring the top of her feet. No matter where she explored, Julie reacted, and reacted strongly; the girl bounced against the couch, desperately trying to find some way to buckle her mother. All of them failed. And that’s on her! Should have eaten more, became a stronger girl. Now she was paying the price, and it was just deserts!
While the whole feet were ticklish, Mary did observe that the classics never failed – the very center of her soles always brought the best results. And with that in mind, it was time to go for the kill. To teach Julie the final lesson.
She reached out to an object just within reach: A hairbrush, laying on the nearby table. She grabbed it, and twirled it in her fingers, before flicking the bristles to test them. They were firm, with small round tips that provided just the most awful sensation at the touch. Perfect.
She started applying it, ravaging the soles on display with its hard bristles.
Julie shot in place, finally fully driven over the edge. She howled and cried like an animal, repeating ‘please please please’ over and over as if it would make her mother stop. She tried, amidst laughter, promising to be good, to be more open, to stop wearing sweaters, but the words always came out broken and malformed, pried from her under great duress. Those bristles! Cursed bristles! Each swipe of the brush eroded her sanity a little further, flooding her with the most unbearable ticklish sensations. “I GIHIHIHIHIHVHEHEH!!” She managed to scream.
‘I give’, it echoed in Mary’s mind, as she remembered one last core memory, laid dormant for so long. It was back when she was doing her course in the community college. She had, uh… ‘convinced’ one of the teachers to let her have a peak at the upcoming test. And she made the mistake of telling her friends. Once they figured she wouldn’t share, for fear of making trouble for the teacher (and herself…), they tackled her to the ground, sat on her legs, and started using a hairbrush on her soles. Exactly like she was doing to Julie now. And she remembered vividly the intense sensations… and how she cracked in a few minutes, and told them all they wanted to know. Unfortunately it took quite a few dozen minutes before they believed that she had already shared every question she peeked at and wasn’t hiding anything else…
And yet, the words finally reach her, and wake her from her trance. She stopped and turned to the defeated Julie, bawling her eyes out and repeating ‘stop’ and ‘please’ in a loop.
“So, Julie – did you learn your lesson?” She asked, stern. Julie merely nodded frenetically, which was all she had the energy to do.
“Will you start dressing more freely? Show your body some more?” More nodding. “Become a proper girl?”
“Yes…” Julie replied, weakly.
“Start going barefoot?”
“What??” She immediately regret questioning it, but it was just such an absurd thing to get hung up on that it came as a reflex. Her mother seemed to move to grab the brush again – or maybe it was just her traumatized mind playing tricks on her – but she immediately started screaming. “YES, YES!! Whatever you want!! Please!”
“Excellent. Let’s begin right now.” She said, getting up and going out of the house. Julie sighed, thankful for it being over…
Until her mother returned with a few blades of grass – and spent the next half hour gently introducing her to the joys of feeling the grass on your soles in the most agonizing way imaginable…
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Mary took a deep breath, letting the pure air of Alabama enter her lungs and recharge her soul. There was absolutely nothing better in the world than that smell of freshly-cut grass, of woods and animals crawling just out of view, of… Plainly put: Nature. A small cabin in the forest, just her and her family to enjoy a relaxing weekend, as God intended.
She gently pulled on her plaid halter top to make the air flow within, in a somewhat-effective effort to fight the humid heat. She, naturally, was wearing the daisy dukes that always made her husband go wild (and, often, other dudes walking around her…), and those helped too, as did the short haircut she had switched to a few months ago, golden locks going no further than her shoulders now. And perhaps even more refreshing was the feeling of the grass under her bare feet, lingering cold dew still present. She smiled, utterly content and at peace. That was the life she deserved.
Her husband and her younger son had gone out fishing, leaving her to enjoy the peace of the cabin almost alone. Almost. From the corner of her eye, Mary noticed movement, and it was not any of the animals in the wood. After all, none of them had blond pigtails, or that expression of someone who really didn’t want to be there. Most importantly, none of them decided to wear a goddamn sweater at 90ºF heat – because they knew better. In an equally unnatural defiance of everything that was good about being in such an environment, her daughter – for that was that figure, Mary’s 20-year-old daughter, Julia – wore sneakers.
Mary sighed, spreading her own toes, as if trying to get enough grass for the both of them. “Honey, why are you dressed like that?” She asked, trying to hide her annoyance a bit. She didn’t want Julie to feel bad, necessarily, but why couldn’t she just learn to enjoy nature and dress like the sexy southern lady that both of them were? Julie was always trying to hide her features, dress modestly, be antisocial, and it drove Mary nuts! She was older than Mary was when Mary got pregnant of her, for Christ’s sake! She needed to flaunt her body to get a good man, before she lost that youthful spark!
“I prefer like that, mom.” Julie said, simply; she did not bother hiding her annoyance, and that enraged Mary somewhat.
“You should try something different. Just once. And for the love of God, at least get rid of that sweater! I’m getting sweaty just from watching you!” Mary said. Julie rolled her eyes. Mary squinted hers, a face of warning that was swiftly ignored as Julie turned around and started getting back into the cabin.
That was the limit for Mary. She was hot-blooded, after all. “Now, wait a minute, miss – you don’t turn your back on your mother as she is speaking to you!” She said, storming after her daughter. Julie stopped where she was, turning around with a surprised expression.
“Mom, you know I hate these trips, please just leave me alone.” Julie replied; a critical mistake, as that gave time for Mary to close the distance between them. The mother grabbed her daughter’s wrist in a powerful, inescapable grasp, and Julie’s expression turned into one of fear. “Let me go, you crazy woman!”
“I’ve always avoided disciplining you. Maybe it’s time I fix that mistake.” Mary said.
“If you dare hit me, I’ll tell dad. You know he won’t allow it!” Julie retorted, and Mary knew she was right. She and her husband had a deal growing up: No hitting the kids. A stupid rule that she capitulated to for the sake of her husband. But it’s okay. She had been cooking up this idea for a while. If her daughter was anything like herself, Mary knew it would be extremely effective. And she doubted she’d ever have as good of a chance to teach Julie a lesson as she did today, alone in the cabin with the boys away for the whole afternoon.
Yeah. It was time to put the mommy pants on. Well, the mommy daisy dukes.
Julie tried to resist, but she was frail and weak, as she never wasted much time with exercise. Mary wasn’t exactly a powerlifter, but she had been decently active during her life, and built up enough muscles to overpower Julie as she tackled her daughter to a nearby sofa. She looked around for something to restrain her daughter in while the girl protested in shock. Nothing in sight. Until a lightbulb moment struck. The answer was right in her face – literally.
She started taking off Julie’s sweater. The girl tried to fight but, again, it was hopeless – and as the tugging and pulling started to threatening to rip it accidentally, her efforts died down. Better to lose it now than destroy it forever. Underneath, Julie was wearing something so much better that Mary got even angrier – it’s as if the kid was taunting her! Such a beautiful gym top, black and sleeveless, perfect for this weather! No matter. She quickly continued the little tussle, bringing Julie’s wrists together, and trying them up with the long sweater sleeves. Forcing them downwards, she managed to tie the other end to the sofa’s leg.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” Julie protested, squirming against her bonds. Unfortunately for her, Mary knew how to tie a good knot, even with something less than ideal like that sweater. And with herself straddling the girl’s waist, Julie was absolutely not going anywhere until Mary decided it was time.
“Being a mother. It’s high time I teach you how to be more lady-like and enjoy nature, miss. All of this stuff is not going to be healthy for you long-term!” She says. “And I know how to do it. I am your mother, after all.” She said – and as she did, her hands lunged forward, digging into Julie’s ribs. Even through the thin fabric of her top, the reaction was instant; Julie buckled as if electrocuted, pulling with all her might against her restraints. No longer she seemed worried about preserving the sweater – however, unfortunately for her, the material was quite stretchy, and didn’t buckle.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!” She screamed, finally some real emotion invading her voice, shattering the monotonic, languid demeanor from before. It was the most alive Mary had seen her daughter in years, and brought a satisfied smile to her face. “DOHOHOHNT TIHIHIHIHKCKCLEHEHEHE MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”
“I can’t hit you, so that’s the best substitute. Or, frankly, maybe even the best option altogether.” Mary said, as she continued to explore. She actually remembered once her own mother disciplined her in such a way, a long time ago. For different reasons, of course – instead of for lack of femininity and outgoingness, she was actually tickled for being too outgoing and causing some problems by flirting with a boy that was already taken, and was the son of a friend of the family. Huh, curious. Mary hadn’t thought of that in so long, almost as if the memory had been buried. But she definitely remembered now the horrid feelings of her mom’s nails trailing through her belly, scratching on her armpits; the sudden flood of memories made her shudder.
And the fact that it ultimately didn’t work did not even cross her mind. She was a woman on a mission: to tickle the ever-loving shit out of her rebellious daughter. The memories did serve one purpose, though: Remind her the effectiveness of well-kept nails. Like hers were. She relaxed a bit on the touch, instead of going full-fingered into it; she reached a bit lower, leaving the ribs and into the lower flanks; and, much like on that faithful night, she just let her nails glide through her daughter’s belly, starting spread on her sides and slowly converging into her navel, where they all met, only to spread apart again in the opposite flow. Back and forth, back and forth, slowly but not too slowly.
Julie buckled forward once more, screaming like a banshee. It was very clear the technique was just as effective as it had been decades ago. Tears were now running down her face, externalizing just how much the ordeal was getting to her. “MOHOHOHOHMMMM!!” She screamed, to uncaring ears.
“You have such a cute belly! If you exercised just a little bit more, you’d have a flat stomach, maybe even some abs, and get any guy you could possibly want!” Mary said, as she continued torturing her daughter. “Why must you be like this, daughter mine? It’s okay. I’ll teach you better, today.”
Julie felt violated and betrayed. She never saw eye-to-eye to her mom, but she never expected she would actually hurt her like this. She never expected to be this ticklish either! Before today, she’d only been tickled very casually – a playful poke from one of her rare friends or something to that degree. As such, she was completely overwhelmed by the powerful and unfamiliar sensations ravaging her body. Her brain simply did not know how to cope with such intense stimulation. Surrender crossed her mind, for sure; a big part of her refused, but then there was the simple matter that her brain lacked the power to process it and actually decide. It ended up settling on struggling, like a trapped feral animal, twitching and twisting on her bonds uselessly, but always hopeful maybe the next tug would bring the desired freedom.
It did not. It only brought more prodding fingers, more skittering nails, more ticklish agony.
Mary was having fun. She could swear her daughter was even more ticklish than herself! Which was actually quite impressive. And her skin was just so soft! Perhaps due to the lack of exposure to the sun? Or the lack of exercise combined with the low-consumption-diet to create just the perfect amount of “give” under her fingers! It was weird to describe it like this, but her upperbody was just physically pleasant to tickle. Mary spent a few minutes just testing different ways of applying her fingers to her daughter’s flesh, delighting herself in the sensations. Finally, something else caught her eyes.
Her daughter’s armpits. It was Mary’s own particular weakness. If anyone dug into them, it was over for the blondie. Maybe it was the same for her daughter? She attacked, suddenly shifting her full focus to those spots, one hand on each, scratching the hollows with vigor.
Julie exploded in mad laughter. It was considerably louder and more intense than on her midsection; if she seemed very ticklish before, now she looked unbearably so. And, for just one insane moment, Mary wondered if maybe her laughter and screaming would attract someone’s attention. In the city, the police would certainly have been called by now. But she breathed deep, reminding herself they were alone. The boys were down by the lake at this moment. And as loud as Julie was, her voice couldn’t reach there.
Julie was entirely under her mercy.
The younger girl knew it, and hated it. She never felt so powerless. She was desperately trying to tell her mom she’d do whatever the older woman wanted, but the words just got swallowed by the laughter. A never-ending torrent of laughter, pouring from her lips with no room for anything else. Forced laughter, tormented laughter, desperate, coarse, pleading laughter. She pulled and pulled her arms but the sweater didn’t allow her freedom, didn’t buckle or rip. For the love of God, she needed something to make that horrid tickling stop!
And, almost as if answering her prayers, her mother finally, finally stopped. She was left gasping for air and choking on her own tears and saliva, trying to recover from the grueling ordeal.
“Stop…” She muttered weakly, begging, trying to look at her mother. But when she turned to the maternal figure, she realized she was no longer straddled – and Mary had left the couch entirely. That let Julie’s relief increase even further, glad for it to finally be over.
Until she felt the iron grip of Mary’s arm envelop both of her ankles, creating a makeshift stockade. She started, with the free hand, taking off Julie’s sneakers and her black socks, commenting “These are so awful. You’re going to start using sandals from now on – or even better, go barefoot!”. She tossed them out towards the trash and, surprisingly, sent them both in despite the distance. Perhaps Mary would have made for a good basketball player in a different life.
As soon as her nails started making contact with the bare feet, Julie’s world vanished from view. That was intense. Even more so than everything she endured before. The worst part is that her mother wasn’t even doing a good job at it – with only one hand to explore both soles, and the awkward angle of the grasp, Mary could only aimlessly scrap her fingers on a pair of very struggling soles. And yet, it was making Julie completely lose her mind. She tried pulling her legs free, but her mother’s strong grasp made that a vain hope.
“MOHOHOHM!! MOHOHOHHOMMYYY!!” She screamed, feeling humiliated, but the desperation easily overtaking her pride. She tried to twist from side to side, but the sweater bondage remained as unrelenting as ever. She was fully crying now – not merely tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, but full-on sobbing and guffawing.
And yet, Mary couldn’t hear it. It’s as if she had been bewitched. Enchanted by her daughter’s melodic, tortured laughter. It didn’t take long for her to realize the same her daughter did: The process was inefficient. She needed to find a better way to restrain those legs. The idea eventually came to her: She maneuvered in a way that allowed her to sit on Julie’s shins, finally freeing both of her hands. The daughter screamed in horror after realizing what was about to happen – and then screamed in pure ticklish agony as both of Mary’s hands started exploring her soles. This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening.
Nothing in this world should tickle this bad as those awful nails of Mary dragging themselves through the crunched-up folds of Julie’s struggling soles. And yet, they did. The reality of the situation was undeniable; it shot through her nerves, up her spine, in an overwhelming fashion. Not only was it real, but it was the only real thing in the world; every thought, every feeling, every desire she ever had was lost in a storm of ticklish mirth, of pulling muscles against their bonds, of forced laughter. She barely remembered why her mother even begun tickling her in the first place, but she knew it didn’t matter – whatever she wanted, she’d have, so long as she stopped. But she didn’t even give Julie the chance to plead…
Mary also remembered having her feet tormented like that once. Not by family – not that time. At the ripe age of 18, she had gotten her left foot stuck in a fence after climbing it to leave their neighbor’s ranch one day – yes, she was a rascal even in adulthood. And, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t get it out. The struggle attracted the neighbor’s dog. It approached, curious, and begun sniffing and licking at her bare foot; it drove Mary completely insane. She screamed for almost a full hour as the curious animal continued to explore the wriggling appendage. Despite the volume of hers, neither her parents or the owners of the ranch came to rescue, busy as they were with their game of cards. Only when the dog naturally lost it’s curiosity was poor Mary left alone to recover.
Why all of these ticklish memories coming up so sudden, she wondered? If some therapist knew, they’d probably throw all sorts of stupid nonsense at her to try to explain it, which is why she didn’t bother with those types.
The started playing with the full extent of the canvas available to her. She needed to figure out what spots were worse, after all! Nails glided through the whole feet – attacking the soles, burrowing between and under toes, skittering on the arches, and even exploring the top of her feet. No matter where she explored, Julie reacted, and reacted strongly; the girl bounced against the couch, desperately trying to find some way to buckle her mother. All of them failed. And that’s on her! Should have eaten more, became a stronger girl. Now she was paying the price, and it was just deserts!
While the whole feet were ticklish, Mary did observe that the classics never failed – the very center of her soles always brought the best results. And with that in mind, it was time to go for the kill. To teach Julie the final lesson.
She reached out to an object just within reach: A hairbrush, laying on the nearby table. She grabbed it, and twirled it in her fingers, before flicking the bristles to test them. They were firm, with small round tips that provided just the most awful sensation at the touch. Perfect.
She started applying it, ravaging the soles on display with its hard bristles.
Julie shot in place, finally fully driven over the edge. She howled and cried like an animal, repeating ‘please please please’ over and over as if it would make her mother stop. She tried, amidst laughter, promising to be good, to be more open, to stop wearing sweaters, but the words always came out broken and malformed, pried from her under great duress. Those bristles! Cursed bristles! Each swipe of the brush eroded her sanity a little further, flooding her with the most unbearable ticklish sensations. “I GIHIHIHIHIHVHEHEH!!” She managed to scream.
‘I give’, it echoed in Mary’s mind, as she remembered one last core memory, laid dormant for so long. It was back when she was doing her course in the community college. She had, uh… ‘convinced’ one of the teachers to let her have a peak at the upcoming test. And she made the mistake of telling her friends. Once they figured she wouldn’t share, for fear of making trouble for the teacher (and herself…), they tackled her to the ground, sat on her legs, and started using a hairbrush on her soles. Exactly like she was doing to Julie now. And she remembered vividly the intense sensations… and how she cracked in a few minutes, and told them all they wanted to know. Unfortunately it took quite a few dozen minutes before they believed that she had already shared every question she peeked at and wasn’t hiding anything else…
And yet, the words finally reach her, and wake her from her trance. She stopped and turned to the defeated Julie, bawling her eyes out and repeating ‘stop’ and ‘please’ in a loop.
“So, Julie – did you learn your lesson?” She asked, stern. Julie merely nodded frenetically, which was all she had the energy to do.
“Will you start dressing more freely? Show your body some more?” More nodding. “Become a proper girl?”
“Yes…” Julie replied, weakly.
“Start going barefoot?”
“What??” She immediately regret questioning it, but it was just such an absurd thing to get hung up on that it came as a reflex. Her mother seemed to move to grab the brush again – or maybe it was just her traumatized mind playing tricks on her – but she immediately started screaming. “YES, YES!! Whatever you want!! Please!”
“Excellent. Let’s begin right now.” She said, getting up and going out of the house. Julie sighed, thankful for it being over…
Until her mother returned with a few blades of grass – and spent the next half hour gently introducing her to the joys of feeling the grass on your soles in the most agonizing way imaginable…
