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So this was supposed to be a short 2000 word intermission story, it got away from me and end up being three times as long with a possible sequel.
Hope you enjoy
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Sue could scarcely contain herself as the plane landed at Heathrow airport. Her normal shy exterior was fractured by smiles and excited glances around at the other passengers on board. Tomorrow was the day she would visit the event at the tickling castle, and the petite American brunette could scarcely keep from singing and dancing.
Normally Sue blended into the scenery despite being extremely pretty underneath her frizzy unmanageable hair. So far on this flight alone no fewer than three separate men had started hitting on her. As usual she didn’t know how to respond and after several minutes of awkward conversation they each in turn left her alone. Sue had never been particularly out-going and at 32 this trip marked something of an achievement for her.
The petite accountant had been mentally planning such a trip ever since she first discovered the tickling-castle event online. But it was only after Martin, her crush at the office revealed he was seeing someone else that Sue finally found the courage to book herself the Blue Feather necklace along with a flight and a hotel. True; Sue had rarely spoken to Martin but she liked to watch him at work and he would often look up and smile at her, she wasn’t scared or embarrassed after the first few times and had even started to smile back. Then her dreams had been shattered one morning as Martin chirped away in the office canteen about finally meeting Mrs Right….
Sue had hidden her disappointment and anger behind a mask of congratulations but inside she was wounded to the core. Ever prepared Sue had travelled to England a day early to help ease the Jet-lag and excitedly looked around for her taxi. She chatted to the taxi driver amiably; her state of nervous excitement placing her in the role the stereotypical American tourist, something she was usually the antithesis of. As the taxi neared her hotel the taxi driver finally asked;
“So are you here for business or pleasure?”
With a smile Sue replied;
“Pleasure!”
The petite accountant slept soundly having taken a familiar herbal supplement to calm her nerves, Sue often had panic attacks at University and as a teenager but had long since learnt to control herself. During the night Sue dreamt of that blonde temptress Victoria who had claimed Martin, she was locked in the stocks begging for mercy as countless feathers and fingers assaulted her tall struggling body. The dream was so lucid it was like it was all really happening; Sue could feel the soft supple skin of the woman’s soles under her fingertips, as sensation she only knew from her one occasion when she tickled a classmate at a college house-party.
Sue was rudely awoken by her alarm, she swore as the delightful dream washed away to the incessant beeping and the smell of sweat and sexual frustration. It had been years since Sue’s last wet dream and the unexpected release threw a wrench in her meticulously planned trip.
Despite longing for a boyfriend who understood her Sue had always had a fascination with tickle-torture. She dreaded being tied and tickled herself but the thought of tormenting the princesses and cheerleaders she envied and despised filled her with a secret burning passion. She would show them what it was like to have a panic attack! She particularly liked medieval themed torture chambers and often visited Renfaires hoping to catch a glimpse of some pretty young woman getting her feet tickled in the stocks, such occasions were all too rare and never lasted that long but still it was far more exciting to witness live than watching videos of tickle torture online.
After spraying the bed with air freshener Sue quickly fixed her coffee and breakfast, hoping to make a discrete escape. Her ashen embarrassment was only assuaged by the knowledge that she had booked a different hotel for the next day and would keep her small travelling bags in one of the castle’s lockers she had hired in advance. Sue had considered a tent but Sue hated the idea of camping; especially if insects got into her tent, the thought of waking up with ants crawling all over her made Sue’s skin crawl.
A Taxi from a different firm was awaiting Sue as she fled the hotel. She dreaded being recognised, even by strangers who could ask about her exploits at the castle. During the journey the combination of embarrassment and jetlag combined with the early hour to leave a sullen silence until Sue spotted her landmark from Google maps.
“Just here please” She squeaked in her little mousy voice.
“Here?” The taxi driver asked, as he quickly braked to pull into a lay-by, little better than a crossing point on the narrow country road.
“Yes, there is a little bridge I want to take a photo of….” Sue lied….
There was a bridge, and she had planned to call it ‘Darling’ in an attempt to convince the driver she was a silly American tourist, but in her panic she forgot and meekly piped her apologies to the driver as she paid.
Twenty minutes later as the sun finally began to lift the haze of mist from the cold September fields Sue crossed the ‘Darling Little Bridge’ smiling and half-tempted to snap a picture on her phone just for the hell of it. She had seen other pictures Geotagged online and mentally ticked off another landmark as she made her way to the castle.
Sue’s excitement returned and she almost skipped like schoolgirl as she passed quaint little red post-boxes and a crumbling concrete pill-box; a relic of World War Two, now littered with cider bottles and beer cans. Her enthusiasm began to wane as she spotted others following her well planned path. Some were in costumes and a part of Sue wanted to turn and go home, panic set in she spotted a large man in a clown costume; ‘Was she in any danger?’ Sue thought to herself
‘No!’ She had come too far and planned this trip for too long.
Finally the petite brunette approached the castle in her pale Blue jeans, baggy sweater and hiking boots. Sue trembled, disguised only by her sunglasses and innate ability to blend into any environment as easily as a black mouse into a coal pile. Meekly she accepted her Blue feather necklace and signed the paperwork and slunk to the back of the thin crowd of early-birds.
They were entertained by a female juggler and a pair of Scandinavian temptresses softly tickling one another’s feet with feathers, the later attraction proved the most popular but the heavy clubs acted as a natural barrier as they were skilfully kept in the air between the crowd and the stocked blondes. Each wore white linen shifts and sat facing one another, their ankles locked in a small set of stocks and their wrists loosely tied to the benches on which they sat. Each could just about reach their opponents feet with the feathers and retrieve the dropped implement but neither could scratch at the outstretched soles with their fingers.
Sue quietly watched as she sipped at her water bottle, longing to use her short but effective nails on the smooth pale soles rendered helpless by toe-ties. She didn’t know which one she wanted to tickle more. The taller blonde had long wavy hair and general scruffiness to her appearance as she giggled and squirmed. Meanwhile the shorter, more submissive blonde had straight shoulder length hair and a shy alluring smile and laugh. Just as Sue was fantasising about having the pair stretched tight on a double rack with goats licking the soles of their pretty feet the gates to the courtyard were opened.
Sue lingered to watch the show for long enough to blend in with the crowd, she didn’t want her keenness to draw unwanted attention. Once inside the castle’s courtyard she smiled at the two long lines of stocks quickly being filled by ‘Green-feathers’: those willing to be tickled without prior permission. The pictures from the first event showed a set-up like this and it was by far Sue’s favourite. It was as though she had stepped into a dream, faces and objects familiar to her from her laptop screen were brought to life by smell and sound and it took her a moment to realise someone was talking to her.
“Want to tickle my feet?” An older lady asked.
The woman’s white hair and comforting face took Sue by surprise and she almost felt as if it would be rude not to oblige.
Her willing victim had a delightful laugh and smile that really put Sue at her ease. She used feathers and her fingertips to tickle the woman’s well-cared for feet. Her victim’s heels were smooth and Sue quickly decided to use a hairbrush from underneath to torment them as she used her nails on the woman’s winkled arches. This technique was copied by a man who joined her without permission. Sue shyly mumbled and left unnerved by his sudden appearance.
As she focused on her breathing a passer-by checked the colour of her feather, it was an innocent gesture but one that sent Sue into a spiral of heavy breathing and frantic panic. ‘They would really do it!’ They would really lock me up and tickle me!’ She thought as her sudden erratic behaviour brought her both concerned glances and lustful leers. Desperately she paced trying to find the exit; taking several panicked wrong-turns, Sue went deeper and deeper into the castle ground until she suddenly found a café.
Shaking and trembling the petite blonde sat and grasped the table with both hands. Her vision was blurred and she could have sworn the entire world was swaying, from the table she grabbed a discarded sandwich wrapper and used it as a paper bag to control her breathing. It had been years since Sue had suffered a panic attack this bad and tears filled her eyes as she regained control.
“A mite nervous huh?” A friendly voice asked
It was the tall ginger woman who had checked her feather necklace. Sue recognised her from the many publicity photographs. Sue merely nodded, still shocked that this was all real.
“Don’t worry, happens all the time… Call me Ingrid!” The ginger wench answered, her voice putting Sue completely at ease.
After a few minutes Sue was back to her usual self, although it wasn’t until Ingrid left before she finally regained her composure. Sue needed to be out of the spot-light in order to function.
After a cup of tea and something to eat Sue finally worked up the courage to tickle one of the waitresses. A fun diversion in the Café and ‘sanctuary’ she had serendipitously stumbled upon. This time Sue didn’t mind sharing both the nylon clad and bare soles of the waitresses as it kept the attention away from her. Eventually she even smiled and even made eye-contact by mistake a few times.
Ambling on, Sue returned to the long stocks and slunk and crept around, finding the soles that the other patrons left un-tickled until finally her routine was broken by a commotion as a tall-blonde was paraded through the courtyard from the gatehouse past the stocks. Surreptitiously Sue joined the crowd and was startled at the victim being paraded barefoot across the grass;
‘She looked exactly like Victoria’ Thought Sue, astounded by the similarity between the captive and leggy blonde who stole her Martin away from her.
The look-a-look wore a long brown burlap dress and had her wrists bound with rope in front of her. She was being slowly guided through the castle as a large drum beat an ominous resounding declaration. A troupe of actors in medieval dress guided the blonde to a special set of stocks set up for this spectacle.
Sue stood amazed as the woman was forced to kneel in the stocks displaying her dirty grass-stained feet as the list of charges were read out. As the words “adultery” were snatched away by the wind Sue remembered reading about women of high social standing being forced to walk barefoot during such punishments. The blonde’s feet were clearly pampered and the walk alone must have been difficult to endure, the burlap dress seemed to be causing her some discomfort too.
Sue watched open-mouthed as the blonde who so closely resembled Victoria was secured to the upright Y-shaped wooden frame, her delicate wrists trapped in leather cuffs. Two buckets of soapy water were brought forth along with stiff scrubbing brushes and Sue’s heart skipped a beat: She knew what was coming next!
The blonde started to panic as her toes were tied; this was her ultimate fantasy but after the humiliation of her walk of shame she began to wonder if she could endure the extreme tickle-torture she had requested. She twisted round in her bondage anxious as to when the scrubbing would started.
One of her captors surprised the blonde with a tummy tickle and she yelped a high pitch squeal of surprise that was quickly followed by shrieks of laughter as the scrubbing began. Sue watched entranced as the dirt and grass were scrubbed away from the blonde’s plump pink heels, creamy long arches and the delicate balls of her feet.
“No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” The tall blonde panted to a staccato, diaphragmatic rhythm.
“Yes!” Sue said aloud gleefully watched her fantasy brought to life.
As the men in costume began cleaning between the blonde’s toes her shrieks became so loud and shrill one of them gagged her. The blonde cursed ever agreeing to the cork and leather gag as part of humiliation. Desperate, she approached the threshold of her endurance. The moment she had bitten down on the dry soft pithy device she had been ready to use her safe-word, but now how would she stop the torture?
As the last of the soap was washed away some new wooden containers were brought forth. At first Sue didn’t understand, something clear and gloopy was being applied with thick brushes as the blonde desperately writhed and moaned into her gag. Suddenly Sue realised what was about to happen, she looked around excitedly for the goats and saw them being brought forth.
Sue had dreamed of witnessing this torture!... They were really pulling out all the stops! As the goats began to lick, the torture of the blonde’s upper body was taken up a notch. The itchy burlap dress was ripped away revealing the blonde’s slender milk-white body, perfectly toned but also soft and inviting to the touch. The initial soft tickles from feathers could not compete with the raspy goats tongues so fingers were employed, driving the blonde into a frenzy. Tears filled her eyes as drool dribbled from her gag down her perfect cheeks and neck.
The goats had finished with her soles and lapped at the last of the brine between her toes. The blonde hated the sensation of their wet sniffly noses and cursed herself for agreeing to such a harsh torture. As much as she loved humiliation the tingle in her loins had given way to a desperate fight or flight instinct; she knew from experience that her rage and desperation would soon give way to the subdued submissive pleasure she craved, but for now she was in hell.
Sue however was in heaven and could feel herself getting wet, she actually pinched herself to check she wasn’t dreaming as the men resumed scrubbing the poor blonde’s soles. It was as though they had read her mind and brought her most intense fantasy to life.
‘Double-scrubbing!’ Sue whispered under her breath as she circled the blonde to see the look in her eyes.
Victoria’s doppelganger was suffering as she should, for a second her eyes met Sue’s and the look of desperation was palpable. Sue imagined the woman begged her for mercy and whispering: ‘No!’ In reply.
Her usual stealthy indistinct lost Sue conspicuously moved to the front of the crowd for a closer look as the blonde’s soles were oiled. Hot black stones were produced from special bags and run over the helpless taut arches, smooth and round they glided over the oiled skin that glowed in the sun. Sue had read and researched enough to know they were a replacement for a brazier or hairdryer to take the blonde’s sensitivity to an unbearable level.
The upper body torture slowed to a gentle teasing so that the poor woman could breathe. She could feel her feet getting more and more sensitive with each slow stroke of the stones and winced every time a hot new stone was introduced. Silently she laughed into her gag which was eventually removed, she tried to beg, tried to remember her safe word but her mind was a blank. She knew what was coming next and longed for it, the tingle in her loins growing strength with each soft feather touch to her underarms.
Sue was entranced, she dug her nails into her palms and bit her lip to stop herself from slipping one hand down the front of her jeans. Two of the female performers stood to either side of the blonde facing the crowd. Each wore a long black and red cowl and cloak and held their hands in the air wiggling their long talon-like nails painted in deep red and black varnish to match their outfits. Sue could scarcely contain herself; she wanted to run forwards and tickle the woman herself, she wanted to be one of these women, she wanted to hear Victoria beg.
As the sharp nails made contact with the blonde’s soles she exploded in ticklish laughter. The women were professionals and sent her through the panic of the initial shock into an ecstatic silent laughter. Her head swung and swayed as the men began to explore her thighs. Sue circled round to see the look in her eyes and was shocked to see the look on the blonde’s face.
‘The bitch just came!’ I know it!’ Sue thought to herself.
The blonde cursed the first discrete orgasm, she knew she wouldn’t be punished for it but it drove her further into hyper-sensitivity. She could not speak as silent laughter made her it’s captive, she wanted to let her captors know she was getting too turned on but could only silently mouth muted pleas for mercy and shake her head from side to side. The nails on her soles were unbearable and alone would have driven her into a ticklish frenzy. What worried her more was the administrations of her male torturer’s all over her lovely long legs.
The ticklish agony the deadly sharp nails inflicted was counterpointed by the squeezing of her inner thighs and the gentle teasing touches that traced up and down the backs of her knees. She had described in detail how much this turned her on and the men had listened. They were supposed to save this for her second session in the Red Zone but they hadn’t been able to wait and now she risked climaxing in the courtyard where sexual acts were forbidden.
Desperately she tried to catch her breath, anxious about what they would do to her if she lost control. Sue watched entranced, satisfied that the focus of her rage and lust was suffering and edging ever closer. Suddenly one of the cowled women winked at her and beckoned her forwards.
Sue didn’t need any further invitation and seconds later her short but effective nails skittered over the blonde’s heels and arches. Her victim was trying to shout something but couldn’t form coherent sentences.
“Lead Drone!” She shouted amongst the yelps, shrieks and gibberish.
The men had returned to ticking her underarms, tummy and sides but that damage was done and a humiliating public orgasm fast approached as sweat trickled down her brow. Suddenly she managed to cry out;
“Red Zone! Red Zone!”
All but Sue stopped tickling and the blonde hung limp panting between laughter. Sue was crestfallen as the blonde was freed from her bondage carried away by one of the larger male performers. She knew what the Red Zone was but was too afraid to buy an additional feather to gain entry. Shyly she approached the gatehouse with the intent of purchasing one but the adrenaline that coursed through her tapped out and the timid brunette collapsed panting, left in a sea of adrenaline and endorphins as it all caught up with her.
She had never done anything like that before! Part of her wanted to find the woman again, another wanted to run away and hide whilst the most of her wanted to find someone else to tickle. Once she regained control over herself Sue scoured the long stocks for ticklish feet, even happily chirping and chatting with other ticklers. She wasn’t even bothered when she caught a few other ticklers checking the colour of her feather necklace and even grinned cheekily when she saw the look of disappointment on their faces.
The September sun was quite warm as the sun rose in the sky Sue pulled off her bulky sweater and tied it around her waist. She wore a pale blue top that highlighted her slender waist and kept her small but perky breasts looking cute. As she tickled and mingled Sue caught men checking her out, normally this would make her toes curl and squirm but for some reason today it made her happy.
‘If there are ticklish feet on display to tickle, and they are still looking at me I must be pretty!’ Sue thought to herself.
After an hour or so Sue decided to explore the rest of the castle. She was growing ever bolder and even considered changing out of her hiking boots to the cute Burgundy flats in her rucksack. She quite fancied watching the hungry look in other’s eyes and slipping her feet out and wiggling her toes. She had spent a lot of money on this trip and knowing others desperately wanted to tickle her, but were prevented from doing so by her £500 necklace filled Sue with an unexpected sense of power that she wanted to audaciously taunt them with.
Sue decided to keep her hiking boots on though, they gave her a sense of security she still needed despite her new-found impishness. As she slunk through the castle grounds Sue found familiar games and scenes to behold. She quietly watched as the Noon-day sun shone brightly in the sky.
Taking shelter in the shade of one of the wooded areas Sue watched Ingrid: the nice Ginger lady demonstrate the dozens of ways trees could be used to secure a ticklish victim. As Sue nibbled on a sandwich she tried to figure out which pictures she had seen the victim being exhibited in when researching this trip. She was sure she knew her face but couldn’t place which of the many cherished images she had seen her in.
Suddenly the scales fell from Sue’s eyes, or more accurately her ears;
“Non!... Non!...Par la Plume” The pale brunette softly begged melodically as a soft feather was traced up and down her perfect underarm.
Sue suddenly realised she had never seen this woman in any of the castle event’s publicity shots! It was one of the first models she had watched tickling videos of online, long before the castle event was even founded.
Sue almost dropped her sandwich in amazement. This woman was so ticklish, so sensitive and so pure! Her giggles and pleas for mercy were still as delightful as Sue remembered them. She watched dumbfounded as the delightful brunette was put into every conceivable bondage position.
“Arête!” She softly pleaded through peals of delightful giggly laughter
The best was yet to come. Sue was dumbfounded watching the angelic brunette beg for mercy in her native French, she scarcely believed what was happening as she was beckoned forwards. She pointed to herself dumbstruck as other participants were selected.
Sue knew where her tickle-target would be. Eagerly she headed straight for the woman’s helpless feet which hung facing the canopy soles up. Her toes had been tied such that they attached to the leather ankle-cuffs the other side of the branch to which her ankles were also secured. As her victim writhed on a sheepskin on Sue marvelled at this technique of restraint, the toes were outstretched and the dawson (or top of foot) sat comfortably on top of the convenient branch.
A total of five other ticklers had approached with Sue, it was apparent from her panicked French that this was more than the poor woman could stand. Two sat down to take positions at her upper body from each side which was helplessly exposed as her arms were tied above her head around the base of a tree far enough back to keep her vulnerable. A tall shy man tickled the backs of the brunette’s outstretched legs with soft spidery touches running his long fingers slowly up and down the length of her hamstrings and calves pausing slightly at the backs of her knees. This alone drive the poor woman crazy.
Sue and the white haired old lady she suddenly recognised from the stocks that morning smiled at one another. There was no need for a re-introduction or apology as they each saw the glimmer in each other’s eyes. The soft soles were exactly as delightful as they were in Sue’s memories and dreams. The arches, the toes, even the heels. Nothing failed to disappoint.
This level of stimulation was more than the breathless brunette could stand so Ingrid had to direct; pointing to each tickler in turn to let them know it was their turn. At first Sue resented being told to stop but when it was her turn she appreciated knowing it was her skilled touches that drove her victim crazy. She had learnt a lot from watching all those videos online….
Finally their victim broke and began to babble and beg in French suddenly squealing;
“Citrou-ille!... Cit- itrou-ille! Citrouille!”
This was clearly her Safe-word and as the ticklers were instructed to stop Sue pondered how even their victim’s most desperate shrieks were melodic and pleasing to the ear like the gentle strum of a harp.
After a short conversation with Ingird in French the angelic brunette was moved to a set of stocks. Sue could scarcely contain herself, she had always wanted to see this beautiful woman stocked and tickled! She had seen her tickled on bed and tied up in the woods but never whilst secured ina set of stocks. The delightful brunette began to beg as her toes were tied back;
“Pas ces! Pas Ces!” She wailed wiggling her toes as her creamy arches were stretched out.
“Oui! Les Orteils! ” Ingrid declared as she slipped the last little loop over her captive’s soft pinky-toe.
At first only feathers were to be used by one tickler at a time. The soft plumes glided between her toes and over her helpless arches, even the softest touch brought forth peals of delightful laughter.
“Non! Non! Non! Arête! Arrr-rête” The brunette begged in her delightful angelic tones.
Sue lined up excitedly for her second turn, soft finger touches had been permitted despite their victim’s frantic protests. The brunette’s gentle begging was replaced by desperate struggles and frantic breathless cries for mercy as even ten soft finger touches drove her insane.
“Libérer mes orteils!” She cried with one last desperate, red-faced cry before dissolving into gentle giggles as she collapsed into a delightful hysterical heap behind the stocks.
It was apparent that the tickler’s dream had suffered enough and was guided to the sanctuary still giggling as Ingrid returned her black socks and trainers to her pale sensitive feet.
Sue was disappointed to yet again have to stop tickling just as she was really getting into it. The shy accountant was really tapping into her pent up desire to deliver merciless tickle torture. She no longer slunk or shyly snuck but instead strode away looking for someone else to tickle. To her delight Sue joined in the tickle torture of two African-Caribbean women dressed as pirates and tied back-to back, their feet propped up on barrels. Her laughter joined that of the two women, the hyena like laughter of those delivering the tickling. The continual laughter took its toll on Sue and she had to stop, her abdominal muscles hurt from laughing along with the rest of the gang.
As she left to take a break Sue realised her cheek and face ached slightly too, she wasn’t used to smiling! Here she was suffering the muscular fatigue of laughing and smiling too much and she hadn’t been tickled once. Sue decided to walk off the effects excessive joy was having upon her slender body, she returned to the gatehouse and slipped off her sturdy hiking boots. As she peeled away her thick woollen socks she wiggled her toes inside the thinner pair of off-white cotton socks she wore underneath loving the feel of fresh air on her hot small feet. Sue sat down to change into a pair of grey socks with cute little pussy-cats she had stowed in her rucksack, in the brief period she was barefoot Sue used her old socks to clean between her toes and wipe the sweat from her pale heels and low but smooth arches. Her feet felt refreshed as she slunk out of the gatehouse in her Burgundy flats.
Just as Sue was considering getting something else to eat she caught a glimpse of Victoria’s doppelganger in an unusual tickling device. The leggy blonde was kneeling inside a see-through L-shaped box with several patrons reaching through holes to tickle her soft helpless body. Sue strode determinedly towards her prize. There was a sheet of A4 paper laminated and struck to the side of the box with sticky-tape but Sue didn’t care, she had been longing to carry on tickling the tall blonde since she was carted off to the ‘Red Zone’. Now that her favourite victim was back Sue was unstoppable. As she approached the strange box she noticed that the holes were lined with strange plastic padding, some of which contained gloves others simply blue and pink rings of soft plastic like the sort used in airbeds and those inflatable neck-cushions for long flights.
Sue didn’t really pay attention to these details as she was focused entirely upon the vacant set of holes above her prey’s pretty pink feet which were toe-tied and helpless inside the spur of the L-shaped box. There was even a mirror facing the strange device so that Sue could see the look on the blonde’s face as she dug in. Not since that one house party when she tickled Maureen had Sue felt so alive, there was nothing like the feel of soft ticklish skin under her dancing fingertips. Adrenaline and euphoria raged through Sue as she drive the blonde to new levels of hysteria, laughing as she tickled and utterly oblivious to the peril she was in.
Occasionally Sue would look at the other women tickling the blonde who also laughed as they tickled, two used the side holes that extended into gloves bearing feathers that teased the blonde’s sides. Other patrons would tickle these women as well as the others reaching through the holes in the transparent box. Sue was so focused on the blonde’s soles she didn’t notice the crowd glancing from her to the Black feather monitoring the show, remote control in hand…
It came as a complete surprise to Sue when the soft blue cushions around her wrists quickly began to inflate with air. Totally engrossed she kept tickling the blonde’s soles but glanced nervously from side to side as a small crowd began to hungrily form around her. Sue let out a sudden shriek as a single finger traced the unprotected part of her socked in-step as she shrunk and cowered, her endorphins waning as the reality of her plight sink in;
“y…y….you c…can’t t.t.t.t-tickle me! I have a Blue feather !” Sue stuttered.
“You know it amazes me how many pretty Blue Feathers don’t read the rules taped to the side of the box!” The sexy gothic Black feather announced to a murmur of conspiratorial laughter.
“No! L….Le…L..Let me out!” Sue stammered as she began to panic.
“Keep tickling the blonde’s feet, and I will set the cushion traps to deflate…” The corseted Goth-girl offered with a sly wink.
Sensing the trap-keepers purpose the crowd began to tickle Sue’s underarms causing her to instantly pull back against her restraints. The cushions had enough give to let her pull back a few inches but then tightened against her wrists trapping her hands close to the Perspex of the box.
“No!!!!!” Sue wailed as she realised what she had done.
The blonde’s soles were tantalisingly close but out of reach. Sue struggled to reach them but could not as her wrists were trapped too far back. Chuckling evilly her captors seized her ankles and began to unbuckle her battered but cute flats.
“Please No!... Please No!!!.... Please Don’t tickle me!..... Please Don’t tickle me!!!! Please No!... Please No!!!....” Sue quietly began to whimper, already skirting the edges of panic attack.
“You had better tickle those soles, or else we will tickle you and take you away for further torture! There are a lot of lovely bondage positions a pretty little thing like you would look good struggling and squirming in!” Amy: The Gothic Black feather teased.
“No!... Please no!....” Sue begged quietly as her strappy burgundy flats were slowly removed.
“Oh yes! We have caught a ticklish one today!” Amy purred.
“No!... Not my feet!” Sue pleaded in her mousy voice; her worst nightmares were about to come true, she would experience the torture she loved inflicting on others.
Sue’s captors cooed as their prize’s socked feet curled in the crisp autumn air. The sun was warm and the air cold with a promise of gentle showers of moderate tickle torture. Sue was reduced to silent laughter by the first teasing touches; her silent rictus of hysterical panic was broken only by spurts of gentle lilting laughter that spoke nothing of the terror she felt.
“Looks like this one likes to be tickled! I think she got herself trapped on purpose!” One of Sue’s female torturers declared, exploring her helpless sides.
Sue silently mouthed ‘No!’ as her torturers concurred and concluded her lack of objection meant she wanted more torture. Slowly her socks were peeled off by hungry hands exposing her pale small feet with their short un-painted toes.
It was as though Sue was hypnotised by the tickling, she knew she couldn’t accept it and just went limped, squirming and fidgeting as her body was explored. Two of her captors took a foot onto their laps where they held one toe and tickled her arches with the other, meanwhile others used feathers and combs to explore Sue’s small ticklish toes.
“So what do you think? Shall we stake her out with the others?” Amy asked the crowd
“Rack her!” A man shouted.
“Put her in the stocks!” A woman chipped in.
“Stretch her on the tree-rack!” Another man shouted.
Sue was trembling like a leaf, she couldn’t stand the thought of being racked and tickled and she began to hyperventilate as each shouted suggestion proved to be more sadistic than the last. Suddenly the blonde in the box chimed in.
“I think she wins the grand prize!....” With a sly sexy smile.
The crowd stopped and stared in stunned amazement as the blonde continued;
“….A tickle contest in which the loser is the prize, if she can break me then she gets to keep me. If I can resist then I get her as my slave!”
Sue was both terrified and intrigued, she was close to panic attack but now she had the chance to get Victoria’s look-a-like to herself. Her heart thumped away in her chest as the Goth Girl looked at her with an eyebrow up-raised;
“What will it be love? The rack or trial by tickle-torture?”
To be continued
Hope you enjoy
- - - - - -
Sue could scarcely contain herself as the plane landed at Heathrow airport. Her normal shy exterior was fractured by smiles and excited glances around at the other passengers on board. Tomorrow was the day she would visit the event at the tickling castle, and the petite American brunette could scarcely keep from singing and dancing.
Normally Sue blended into the scenery despite being extremely pretty underneath her frizzy unmanageable hair. So far on this flight alone no fewer than three separate men had started hitting on her. As usual she didn’t know how to respond and after several minutes of awkward conversation they each in turn left her alone. Sue had never been particularly out-going and at 32 this trip marked something of an achievement for her.
The petite accountant had been mentally planning such a trip ever since she first discovered the tickling-castle event online. But it was only after Martin, her crush at the office revealed he was seeing someone else that Sue finally found the courage to book herself the Blue Feather necklace along with a flight and a hotel. True; Sue had rarely spoken to Martin but she liked to watch him at work and he would often look up and smile at her, she wasn’t scared or embarrassed after the first few times and had even started to smile back. Then her dreams had been shattered one morning as Martin chirped away in the office canteen about finally meeting Mrs Right….
Sue had hidden her disappointment and anger behind a mask of congratulations but inside she was wounded to the core. Ever prepared Sue had travelled to England a day early to help ease the Jet-lag and excitedly looked around for her taxi. She chatted to the taxi driver amiably; her state of nervous excitement placing her in the role the stereotypical American tourist, something she was usually the antithesis of. As the taxi neared her hotel the taxi driver finally asked;
“So are you here for business or pleasure?”
With a smile Sue replied;
“Pleasure!”
The petite accountant slept soundly having taken a familiar herbal supplement to calm her nerves, Sue often had panic attacks at University and as a teenager but had long since learnt to control herself. During the night Sue dreamt of that blonde temptress Victoria who had claimed Martin, she was locked in the stocks begging for mercy as countless feathers and fingers assaulted her tall struggling body. The dream was so lucid it was like it was all really happening; Sue could feel the soft supple skin of the woman’s soles under her fingertips, as sensation she only knew from her one occasion when she tickled a classmate at a college house-party.
Sue was rudely awoken by her alarm, she swore as the delightful dream washed away to the incessant beeping and the smell of sweat and sexual frustration. It had been years since Sue’s last wet dream and the unexpected release threw a wrench in her meticulously planned trip.
Despite longing for a boyfriend who understood her Sue had always had a fascination with tickle-torture. She dreaded being tied and tickled herself but the thought of tormenting the princesses and cheerleaders she envied and despised filled her with a secret burning passion. She would show them what it was like to have a panic attack! She particularly liked medieval themed torture chambers and often visited Renfaires hoping to catch a glimpse of some pretty young woman getting her feet tickled in the stocks, such occasions were all too rare and never lasted that long but still it was far more exciting to witness live than watching videos of tickle torture online.
After spraying the bed with air freshener Sue quickly fixed her coffee and breakfast, hoping to make a discrete escape. Her ashen embarrassment was only assuaged by the knowledge that she had booked a different hotel for the next day and would keep her small travelling bags in one of the castle’s lockers she had hired in advance. Sue had considered a tent but Sue hated the idea of camping; especially if insects got into her tent, the thought of waking up with ants crawling all over her made Sue’s skin crawl.
A Taxi from a different firm was awaiting Sue as she fled the hotel. She dreaded being recognised, even by strangers who could ask about her exploits at the castle. During the journey the combination of embarrassment and jetlag combined with the early hour to leave a sullen silence until Sue spotted her landmark from Google maps.
“Just here please” She squeaked in her little mousy voice.
“Here?” The taxi driver asked, as he quickly braked to pull into a lay-by, little better than a crossing point on the narrow country road.
“Yes, there is a little bridge I want to take a photo of….” Sue lied….
There was a bridge, and she had planned to call it ‘Darling’ in an attempt to convince the driver she was a silly American tourist, but in her panic she forgot and meekly piped her apologies to the driver as she paid.
Twenty minutes later as the sun finally began to lift the haze of mist from the cold September fields Sue crossed the ‘Darling Little Bridge’ smiling and half-tempted to snap a picture on her phone just for the hell of it. She had seen other pictures Geotagged online and mentally ticked off another landmark as she made her way to the castle.
Sue’s excitement returned and she almost skipped like schoolgirl as she passed quaint little red post-boxes and a crumbling concrete pill-box; a relic of World War Two, now littered with cider bottles and beer cans. Her enthusiasm began to wane as she spotted others following her well planned path. Some were in costumes and a part of Sue wanted to turn and go home, panic set in she spotted a large man in a clown costume; ‘Was she in any danger?’ Sue thought to herself
‘No!’ She had come too far and planned this trip for too long.
Finally the petite brunette approached the castle in her pale Blue jeans, baggy sweater and hiking boots. Sue trembled, disguised only by her sunglasses and innate ability to blend into any environment as easily as a black mouse into a coal pile. Meekly she accepted her Blue feather necklace and signed the paperwork and slunk to the back of the thin crowd of early-birds.
They were entertained by a female juggler and a pair of Scandinavian temptresses softly tickling one another’s feet with feathers, the later attraction proved the most popular but the heavy clubs acted as a natural barrier as they were skilfully kept in the air between the crowd and the stocked blondes. Each wore white linen shifts and sat facing one another, their ankles locked in a small set of stocks and their wrists loosely tied to the benches on which they sat. Each could just about reach their opponents feet with the feathers and retrieve the dropped implement but neither could scratch at the outstretched soles with their fingers.
Sue quietly watched as she sipped at her water bottle, longing to use her short but effective nails on the smooth pale soles rendered helpless by toe-ties. She didn’t know which one she wanted to tickle more. The taller blonde had long wavy hair and general scruffiness to her appearance as she giggled and squirmed. Meanwhile the shorter, more submissive blonde had straight shoulder length hair and a shy alluring smile and laugh. Just as Sue was fantasising about having the pair stretched tight on a double rack with goats licking the soles of their pretty feet the gates to the courtyard were opened.
Sue lingered to watch the show for long enough to blend in with the crowd, she didn’t want her keenness to draw unwanted attention. Once inside the castle’s courtyard she smiled at the two long lines of stocks quickly being filled by ‘Green-feathers’: those willing to be tickled without prior permission. The pictures from the first event showed a set-up like this and it was by far Sue’s favourite. It was as though she had stepped into a dream, faces and objects familiar to her from her laptop screen were brought to life by smell and sound and it took her a moment to realise someone was talking to her.
“Want to tickle my feet?” An older lady asked.
The woman’s white hair and comforting face took Sue by surprise and she almost felt as if it would be rude not to oblige.
Her willing victim had a delightful laugh and smile that really put Sue at her ease. She used feathers and her fingertips to tickle the woman’s well-cared for feet. Her victim’s heels were smooth and Sue quickly decided to use a hairbrush from underneath to torment them as she used her nails on the woman’s winkled arches. This technique was copied by a man who joined her without permission. Sue shyly mumbled and left unnerved by his sudden appearance.
As she focused on her breathing a passer-by checked the colour of her feather, it was an innocent gesture but one that sent Sue into a spiral of heavy breathing and frantic panic. ‘They would really do it!’ They would really lock me up and tickle me!’ She thought as her sudden erratic behaviour brought her both concerned glances and lustful leers. Desperately she paced trying to find the exit; taking several panicked wrong-turns, Sue went deeper and deeper into the castle ground until she suddenly found a café.
Shaking and trembling the petite blonde sat and grasped the table with both hands. Her vision was blurred and she could have sworn the entire world was swaying, from the table she grabbed a discarded sandwich wrapper and used it as a paper bag to control her breathing. It had been years since Sue had suffered a panic attack this bad and tears filled her eyes as she regained control.
“A mite nervous huh?” A friendly voice asked
It was the tall ginger woman who had checked her feather necklace. Sue recognised her from the many publicity photographs. Sue merely nodded, still shocked that this was all real.
“Don’t worry, happens all the time… Call me Ingrid!” The ginger wench answered, her voice putting Sue completely at ease.
After a few minutes Sue was back to her usual self, although it wasn’t until Ingrid left before she finally regained her composure. Sue needed to be out of the spot-light in order to function.
After a cup of tea and something to eat Sue finally worked up the courage to tickle one of the waitresses. A fun diversion in the Café and ‘sanctuary’ she had serendipitously stumbled upon. This time Sue didn’t mind sharing both the nylon clad and bare soles of the waitresses as it kept the attention away from her. Eventually she even smiled and even made eye-contact by mistake a few times.
Ambling on, Sue returned to the long stocks and slunk and crept around, finding the soles that the other patrons left un-tickled until finally her routine was broken by a commotion as a tall-blonde was paraded through the courtyard from the gatehouse past the stocks. Surreptitiously Sue joined the crowd and was startled at the victim being paraded barefoot across the grass;
‘She looked exactly like Victoria’ Thought Sue, astounded by the similarity between the captive and leggy blonde who stole her Martin away from her.
The look-a-look wore a long brown burlap dress and had her wrists bound with rope in front of her. She was being slowly guided through the castle as a large drum beat an ominous resounding declaration. A troupe of actors in medieval dress guided the blonde to a special set of stocks set up for this spectacle.
Sue stood amazed as the woman was forced to kneel in the stocks displaying her dirty grass-stained feet as the list of charges were read out. As the words “adultery” were snatched away by the wind Sue remembered reading about women of high social standing being forced to walk barefoot during such punishments. The blonde’s feet were clearly pampered and the walk alone must have been difficult to endure, the burlap dress seemed to be causing her some discomfort too.
Sue watched open-mouthed as the blonde who so closely resembled Victoria was secured to the upright Y-shaped wooden frame, her delicate wrists trapped in leather cuffs. Two buckets of soapy water were brought forth along with stiff scrubbing brushes and Sue’s heart skipped a beat: She knew what was coming next!
The blonde started to panic as her toes were tied; this was her ultimate fantasy but after the humiliation of her walk of shame she began to wonder if she could endure the extreme tickle-torture she had requested. She twisted round in her bondage anxious as to when the scrubbing would started.
One of her captors surprised the blonde with a tummy tickle and she yelped a high pitch squeal of surprise that was quickly followed by shrieks of laughter as the scrubbing began. Sue watched entranced as the dirt and grass were scrubbed away from the blonde’s plump pink heels, creamy long arches and the delicate balls of her feet.
“No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” The tall blonde panted to a staccato, diaphragmatic rhythm.
“Yes!” Sue said aloud gleefully watched her fantasy brought to life.
As the men in costume began cleaning between the blonde’s toes her shrieks became so loud and shrill one of them gagged her. The blonde cursed ever agreeing to the cork and leather gag as part of humiliation. Desperate, she approached the threshold of her endurance. The moment she had bitten down on the dry soft pithy device she had been ready to use her safe-word, but now how would she stop the torture?
As the last of the soap was washed away some new wooden containers were brought forth. At first Sue didn’t understand, something clear and gloopy was being applied with thick brushes as the blonde desperately writhed and moaned into her gag. Suddenly Sue realised what was about to happen, she looked around excitedly for the goats and saw them being brought forth.
Sue had dreamed of witnessing this torture!... They were really pulling out all the stops! As the goats began to lick, the torture of the blonde’s upper body was taken up a notch. The itchy burlap dress was ripped away revealing the blonde’s slender milk-white body, perfectly toned but also soft and inviting to the touch. The initial soft tickles from feathers could not compete with the raspy goats tongues so fingers were employed, driving the blonde into a frenzy. Tears filled her eyes as drool dribbled from her gag down her perfect cheeks and neck.
The goats had finished with her soles and lapped at the last of the brine between her toes. The blonde hated the sensation of their wet sniffly noses and cursed herself for agreeing to such a harsh torture. As much as she loved humiliation the tingle in her loins had given way to a desperate fight or flight instinct; she knew from experience that her rage and desperation would soon give way to the subdued submissive pleasure she craved, but for now she was in hell.
Sue however was in heaven and could feel herself getting wet, she actually pinched herself to check she wasn’t dreaming as the men resumed scrubbing the poor blonde’s soles. It was as though they had read her mind and brought her most intense fantasy to life.
‘Double-scrubbing!’ Sue whispered under her breath as she circled the blonde to see the look in her eyes.
Victoria’s doppelganger was suffering as she should, for a second her eyes met Sue’s and the look of desperation was palpable. Sue imagined the woman begged her for mercy and whispering: ‘No!’ In reply.
Her usual stealthy indistinct lost Sue conspicuously moved to the front of the crowd for a closer look as the blonde’s soles were oiled. Hot black stones were produced from special bags and run over the helpless taut arches, smooth and round they glided over the oiled skin that glowed in the sun. Sue had read and researched enough to know they were a replacement for a brazier or hairdryer to take the blonde’s sensitivity to an unbearable level.
The upper body torture slowed to a gentle teasing so that the poor woman could breathe. She could feel her feet getting more and more sensitive with each slow stroke of the stones and winced every time a hot new stone was introduced. Silently she laughed into her gag which was eventually removed, she tried to beg, tried to remember her safe word but her mind was a blank. She knew what was coming next and longed for it, the tingle in her loins growing strength with each soft feather touch to her underarms.
Sue was entranced, she dug her nails into her palms and bit her lip to stop herself from slipping one hand down the front of her jeans. Two of the female performers stood to either side of the blonde facing the crowd. Each wore a long black and red cowl and cloak and held their hands in the air wiggling their long talon-like nails painted in deep red and black varnish to match their outfits. Sue could scarcely contain herself; she wanted to run forwards and tickle the woman herself, she wanted to be one of these women, she wanted to hear Victoria beg.
As the sharp nails made contact with the blonde’s soles she exploded in ticklish laughter. The women were professionals and sent her through the panic of the initial shock into an ecstatic silent laughter. Her head swung and swayed as the men began to explore her thighs. Sue circled round to see the look in her eyes and was shocked to see the look on the blonde’s face.
‘The bitch just came!’ I know it!’ Sue thought to herself.
The blonde cursed the first discrete orgasm, she knew she wouldn’t be punished for it but it drove her further into hyper-sensitivity. She could not speak as silent laughter made her it’s captive, she wanted to let her captors know she was getting too turned on but could only silently mouth muted pleas for mercy and shake her head from side to side. The nails on her soles were unbearable and alone would have driven her into a ticklish frenzy. What worried her more was the administrations of her male torturer’s all over her lovely long legs.
The ticklish agony the deadly sharp nails inflicted was counterpointed by the squeezing of her inner thighs and the gentle teasing touches that traced up and down the backs of her knees. She had described in detail how much this turned her on and the men had listened. They were supposed to save this for her second session in the Red Zone but they hadn’t been able to wait and now she risked climaxing in the courtyard where sexual acts were forbidden.
Desperately she tried to catch her breath, anxious about what they would do to her if she lost control. Sue watched entranced, satisfied that the focus of her rage and lust was suffering and edging ever closer. Suddenly one of the cowled women winked at her and beckoned her forwards.
Sue didn’t need any further invitation and seconds later her short but effective nails skittered over the blonde’s heels and arches. Her victim was trying to shout something but couldn’t form coherent sentences.
“Lead Drone!” She shouted amongst the yelps, shrieks and gibberish.
The men had returned to ticking her underarms, tummy and sides but that damage was done and a humiliating public orgasm fast approached as sweat trickled down her brow. Suddenly she managed to cry out;
“Red Zone! Red Zone!”
All but Sue stopped tickling and the blonde hung limp panting between laughter. Sue was crestfallen as the blonde was freed from her bondage carried away by one of the larger male performers. She knew what the Red Zone was but was too afraid to buy an additional feather to gain entry. Shyly she approached the gatehouse with the intent of purchasing one but the adrenaline that coursed through her tapped out and the timid brunette collapsed panting, left in a sea of adrenaline and endorphins as it all caught up with her.
She had never done anything like that before! Part of her wanted to find the woman again, another wanted to run away and hide whilst the most of her wanted to find someone else to tickle. Once she regained control over herself Sue scoured the long stocks for ticklish feet, even happily chirping and chatting with other ticklers. She wasn’t even bothered when she caught a few other ticklers checking the colour of her feather necklace and even grinned cheekily when she saw the look of disappointment on their faces.
The September sun was quite warm as the sun rose in the sky Sue pulled off her bulky sweater and tied it around her waist. She wore a pale blue top that highlighted her slender waist and kept her small but perky breasts looking cute. As she tickled and mingled Sue caught men checking her out, normally this would make her toes curl and squirm but for some reason today it made her happy.
‘If there are ticklish feet on display to tickle, and they are still looking at me I must be pretty!’ Sue thought to herself.
After an hour or so Sue decided to explore the rest of the castle. She was growing ever bolder and even considered changing out of her hiking boots to the cute Burgundy flats in her rucksack. She quite fancied watching the hungry look in other’s eyes and slipping her feet out and wiggling her toes. She had spent a lot of money on this trip and knowing others desperately wanted to tickle her, but were prevented from doing so by her £500 necklace filled Sue with an unexpected sense of power that she wanted to audaciously taunt them with.
Sue decided to keep her hiking boots on though, they gave her a sense of security she still needed despite her new-found impishness. As she slunk through the castle grounds Sue found familiar games and scenes to behold. She quietly watched as the Noon-day sun shone brightly in the sky.
Taking shelter in the shade of one of the wooded areas Sue watched Ingrid: the nice Ginger lady demonstrate the dozens of ways trees could be used to secure a ticklish victim. As Sue nibbled on a sandwich she tried to figure out which pictures she had seen the victim being exhibited in when researching this trip. She was sure she knew her face but couldn’t place which of the many cherished images she had seen her in.
Suddenly the scales fell from Sue’s eyes, or more accurately her ears;
“Non!... Non!...Par la Plume” The pale brunette softly begged melodically as a soft feather was traced up and down her perfect underarm.
Sue suddenly realised she had never seen this woman in any of the castle event’s publicity shots! It was one of the first models she had watched tickling videos of online, long before the castle event was even founded.
Sue almost dropped her sandwich in amazement. This woman was so ticklish, so sensitive and so pure! Her giggles and pleas for mercy were still as delightful as Sue remembered them. She watched dumbfounded as the delightful brunette was put into every conceivable bondage position.
“Arête!” She softly pleaded through peals of delightful giggly laughter
The best was yet to come. Sue was dumbfounded watching the angelic brunette beg for mercy in her native French, she scarcely believed what was happening as she was beckoned forwards. She pointed to herself dumbstruck as other participants were selected.
Sue knew where her tickle-target would be. Eagerly she headed straight for the woman’s helpless feet which hung facing the canopy soles up. Her toes had been tied such that they attached to the leather ankle-cuffs the other side of the branch to which her ankles were also secured. As her victim writhed on a sheepskin on Sue marvelled at this technique of restraint, the toes were outstretched and the dawson (or top of foot) sat comfortably on top of the convenient branch.
A total of five other ticklers had approached with Sue, it was apparent from her panicked French that this was more than the poor woman could stand. Two sat down to take positions at her upper body from each side which was helplessly exposed as her arms were tied above her head around the base of a tree far enough back to keep her vulnerable. A tall shy man tickled the backs of the brunette’s outstretched legs with soft spidery touches running his long fingers slowly up and down the length of her hamstrings and calves pausing slightly at the backs of her knees. This alone drive the poor woman crazy.
Sue and the white haired old lady she suddenly recognised from the stocks that morning smiled at one another. There was no need for a re-introduction or apology as they each saw the glimmer in each other’s eyes. The soft soles were exactly as delightful as they were in Sue’s memories and dreams. The arches, the toes, even the heels. Nothing failed to disappoint.
This level of stimulation was more than the breathless brunette could stand so Ingrid had to direct; pointing to each tickler in turn to let them know it was their turn. At first Sue resented being told to stop but when it was her turn she appreciated knowing it was her skilled touches that drove her victim crazy. She had learnt a lot from watching all those videos online….
Finally their victim broke and began to babble and beg in French suddenly squealing;
“Citrou-ille!... Cit- itrou-ille! Citrouille!”
This was clearly her Safe-word and as the ticklers were instructed to stop Sue pondered how even their victim’s most desperate shrieks were melodic and pleasing to the ear like the gentle strum of a harp.
After a short conversation with Ingird in French the angelic brunette was moved to a set of stocks. Sue could scarcely contain herself, she had always wanted to see this beautiful woman stocked and tickled! She had seen her tickled on bed and tied up in the woods but never whilst secured ina set of stocks. The delightful brunette began to beg as her toes were tied back;
“Pas ces! Pas Ces!” She wailed wiggling her toes as her creamy arches were stretched out.
“Oui! Les Orteils! ” Ingrid declared as she slipped the last little loop over her captive’s soft pinky-toe.
At first only feathers were to be used by one tickler at a time. The soft plumes glided between her toes and over her helpless arches, even the softest touch brought forth peals of delightful laughter.
“Non! Non! Non! Arête! Arrr-rête” The brunette begged in her delightful angelic tones.
Sue lined up excitedly for her second turn, soft finger touches had been permitted despite their victim’s frantic protests. The brunette’s gentle begging was replaced by desperate struggles and frantic breathless cries for mercy as even ten soft finger touches drove her insane.
“Libérer mes orteils!” She cried with one last desperate, red-faced cry before dissolving into gentle giggles as she collapsed into a delightful hysterical heap behind the stocks.
It was apparent that the tickler’s dream had suffered enough and was guided to the sanctuary still giggling as Ingrid returned her black socks and trainers to her pale sensitive feet.
Sue was disappointed to yet again have to stop tickling just as she was really getting into it. The shy accountant was really tapping into her pent up desire to deliver merciless tickle torture. She no longer slunk or shyly snuck but instead strode away looking for someone else to tickle. To her delight Sue joined in the tickle torture of two African-Caribbean women dressed as pirates and tied back-to back, their feet propped up on barrels. Her laughter joined that of the two women, the hyena like laughter of those delivering the tickling. The continual laughter took its toll on Sue and she had to stop, her abdominal muscles hurt from laughing along with the rest of the gang.
As she left to take a break Sue realised her cheek and face ached slightly too, she wasn’t used to smiling! Here she was suffering the muscular fatigue of laughing and smiling too much and she hadn’t been tickled once. Sue decided to walk off the effects excessive joy was having upon her slender body, she returned to the gatehouse and slipped off her sturdy hiking boots. As she peeled away her thick woollen socks she wiggled her toes inside the thinner pair of off-white cotton socks she wore underneath loving the feel of fresh air on her hot small feet. Sue sat down to change into a pair of grey socks with cute little pussy-cats she had stowed in her rucksack, in the brief period she was barefoot Sue used her old socks to clean between her toes and wipe the sweat from her pale heels and low but smooth arches. Her feet felt refreshed as she slunk out of the gatehouse in her Burgundy flats.
Just as Sue was considering getting something else to eat she caught a glimpse of Victoria’s doppelganger in an unusual tickling device. The leggy blonde was kneeling inside a see-through L-shaped box with several patrons reaching through holes to tickle her soft helpless body. Sue strode determinedly towards her prize. There was a sheet of A4 paper laminated and struck to the side of the box with sticky-tape but Sue didn’t care, she had been longing to carry on tickling the tall blonde since she was carted off to the ‘Red Zone’. Now that her favourite victim was back Sue was unstoppable. As she approached the strange box she noticed that the holes were lined with strange plastic padding, some of which contained gloves others simply blue and pink rings of soft plastic like the sort used in airbeds and those inflatable neck-cushions for long flights.
Sue didn’t really pay attention to these details as she was focused entirely upon the vacant set of holes above her prey’s pretty pink feet which were toe-tied and helpless inside the spur of the L-shaped box. There was even a mirror facing the strange device so that Sue could see the look on the blonde’s face as she dug in. Not since that one house party when she tickled Maureen had Sue felt so alive, there was nothing like the feel of soft ticklish skin under her dancing fingertips. Adrenaline and euphoria raged through Sue as she drive the blonde to new levels of hysteria, laughing as she tickled and utterly oblivious to the peril she was in.
Occasionally Sue would look at the other women tickling the blonde who also laughed as they tickled, two used the side holes that extended into gloves bearing feathers that teased the blonde’s sides. Other patrons would tickle these women as well as the others reaching through the holes in the transparent box. Sue was so focused on the blonde’s soles she didn’t notice the crowd glancing from her to the Black feather monitoring the show, remote control in hand…
It came as a complete surprise to Sue when the soft blue cushions around her wrists quickly began to inflate with air. Totally engrossed she kept tickling the blonde’s soles but glanced nervously from side to side as a small crowd began to hungrily form around her. Sue let out a sudden shriek as a single finger traced the unprotected part of her socked in-step as she shrunk and cowered, her endorphins waning as the reality of her plight sink in;
“y…y….you c…can’t t.t.t.t-tickle me! I have a Blue feather !” Sue stuttered.
“You know it amazes me how many pretty Blue Feathers don’t read the rules taped to the side of the box!” The sexy gothic Black feather announced to a murmur of conspiratorial laughter.
“No! L….Le…L..Let me out!” Sue stammered as she began to panic.
“Keep tickling the blonde’s feet, and I will set the cushion traps to deflate…” The corseted Goth-girl offered with a sly wink.
Sensing the trap-keepers purpose the crowd began to tickle Sue’s underarms causing her to instantly pull back against her restraints. The cushions had enough give to let her pull back a few inches but then tightened against her wrists trapping her hands close to the Perspex of the box.
“No!!!!!” Sue wailed as she realised what she had done.
The blonde’s soles were tantalisingly close but out of reach. Sue struggled to reach them but could not as her wrists were trapped too far back. Chuckling evilly her captors seized her ankles and began to unbuckle her battered but cute flats.
“Please No!... Please No!!!.... Please Don’t tickle me!..... Please Don’t tickle me!!!! Please No!... Please No!!!....” Sue quietly began to whimper, already skirting the edges of panic attack.
“You had better tickle those soles, or else we will tickle you and take you away for further torture! There are a lot of lovely bondage positions a pretty little thing like you would look good struggling and squirming in!” Amy: The Gothic Black feather teased.
“No!... Please no!....” Sue begged quietly as her strappy burgundy flats were slowly removed.
“Oh yes! We have caught a ticklish one today!” Amy purred.
“No!... Not my feet!” Sue pleaded in her mousy voice; her worst nightmares were about to come true, she would experience the torture she loved inflicting on others.
Sue’s captors cooed as their prize’s socked feet curled in the crisp autumn air. The sun was warm and the air cold with a promise of gentle showers of moderate tickle torture. Sue was reduced to silent laughter by the first teasing touches; her silent rictus of hysterical panic was broken only by spurts of gentle lilting laughter that spoke nothing of the terror she felt.
“Looks like this one likes to be tickled! I think she got herself trapped on purpose!” One of Sue’s female torturers declared, exploring her helpless sides.
Sue silently mouthed ‘No!’ as her torturers concurred and concluded her lack of objection meant she wanted more torture. Slowly her socks were peeled off by hungry hands exposing her pale small feet with their short un-painted toes.
It was as though Sue was hypnotised by the tickling, she knew she couldn’t accept it and just went limped, squirming and fidgeting as her body was explored. Two of her captors took a foot onto their laps where they held one toe and tickled her arches with the other, meanwhile others used feathers and combs to explore Sue’s small ticklish toes.
“So what do you think? Shall we stake her out with the others?” Amy asked the crowd
“Rack her!” A man shouted.
“Put her in the stocks!” A woman chipped in.
“Stretch her on the tree-rack!” Another man shouted.
Sue was trembling like a leaf, she couldn’t stand the thought of being racked and tickled and she began to hyperventilate as each shouted suggestion proved to be more sadistic than the last. Suddenly the blonde in the box chimed in.
“I think she wins the grand prize!....” With a sly sexy smile.
The crowd stopped and stared in stunned amazement as the blonde continued;
“….A tickle contest in which the loser is the prize, if she can break me then she gets to keep me. If I can resist then I get her as my slave!”
Sue was both terrified and intrigued, she was close to panic attack but now she had the chance to get Victoria’s look-a-like to herself. Her heart thumped away in her chest as the Goth Girl looked at her with an eyebrow up-raised;
“What will it be love? The rack or trial by tickle-torture?”
To be continued
Looking forward to the sequel. 
