UberTicklish1
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Mar 27, 2006
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Nose twitching, the dungeon master peeked out the flap in the tent. He could smell one. A “Lee” in heat. Better yet, one who didn’t even know she was a “Lee” yet. He liked those ones best. A woman who didn’t know she could be aroused by such delicious torture. He always knew what they needed though.
He could see which one it was now. A short, plump one with curly blond hair and pale pink skin. Her breasts were practically popping out of her top, unlike her friends who were so thin they were practically flat chested. He waited until the others had started off. Then he slipped his mask on, checked his gloves, and headed out of the tent, towards his intended prey.
..................................................
Lilith sighed in disappointment. The only reason she had come to this faire was to see the torture display. But it was closed. She was hot and sweaty, hardly able to breath in this stupid bodice, and the tops of her breasts were getting sunburned. Her friends didn’t care, but she did.
A gloved hand fell on her arm, wrapping around it gently but firmly. “Where art thou going, witch?”
Turning a bit, Lilith looked at a pair of dark green eyes framed by a black mask. “I’m not a witch, and I’m going to catch up with my friends.”
She tried to pull away, to go after her friends who were disappearing deeper into the throngs of people at the renaissance faire. She would soon lose them amongst all the other costumed people if she didn’t get away from this man soon. However his grip remained firm and Lilith would later admit she didn’t try too hard to escape him.
“Nay, witch.” The dungeon master said, drawing her towards the tent. “I am immune to thy spells. Now come, confess or I shall have to torture you.”
Even as her booted feet moved towards the tent, Lilith narrowed her eyes - one nearly ice blue, the other more of a light green-brown - and sneered, “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Funny you should mention that.” The masked man said, pulling Lilith all the way inside.
The tent was actually a facade. Inside the large cloth structure was storage container. When Lilith was pulled inside she saw it had been soundproofed and a small generator supplied electricity to fake torches, as well as an air conditioner that kept the place cool. The dungeon master let Lilith go as he pulled the door closed and locked it with a combination paddle lock.
The container was full of devices like Lilith had imagine, but rather then the devices of pain such as the Judas Chair, a device that was found amongst Saddam’s collection of torture equipment that he used, these things seemed rather mundane. There were a few types of stocks, one that would hold just her head and hands, another for her feet with a long bar at the back, from it hung a chain and cuffs so the arms could be pulled high above the head. There was a rack but judging from the looks it was designed to comfortably restrain rather then hurt. Same went for the X-frame. There was even a four poster bed with long silk scarves.
Nor was there any whips, thumbscrews, or any other tools for pain. The tools there were much more terrifying to Lilith however. There were feathers and back scratches. Vibrators with little rubber nubs. Electric toothbrushes and water picks.
Tools for tickling.
Lilith tried to make a break for the door, but the dungeon master simply wrapped his arms around her thick waist and pulled her towards the first set of stocks. Gently but persistently pushing on her head until it was in place, holding it with one hand until he could get one of her wrists in. He partially closed the stocks and at the last second slipped her other hand in place. Then locked the stocks completely.
His gloved hands then began to work on the ties of her bodice. Soon it hung open on either side of her. Her large breasts swayed.
“Art thou ready to confess, witch?”
“Let me out of here you big galoot!”
“Ye had thy chance!”
With that gloved hands slipped up inside Lilith’s shirt and began to viciously tickle her belly. She squealed and squirmed, rubbing her more then generous backside against her captor. With the gloves on his fingers easily slid over her uber-ticklish skin. Exploring her deep belly button with rapid movements. Her breasts popped out of her blouse and were now swinging freely, slapping against the wood of the stocks.
He reached up farther and began to cruelly tickle her ribs. Lilith’s eyes closed as she felt the evil fingers playing her flesh. Making each nerve ending sing. He tickled both her ribs and belly until she couldn’t breath. Then he stopped. Moving around closer to her head. He repeated his question about her confession, but Lilith was too busy gasping for breath to answer.
The dungeon master knew this.
His fingers found her armpits now. Twirling and dancing. Lilith laughed even harder. Each pass of his wiggling fingers was agony.
Sweet agony!
Lilith admitted to herself that somehow being helpless to the evil tickling desires of this unknown masked man was bringing forth all sorts of lustful feelings. Before she had always been touched in boring, conventional ways. Her family hadn’t believe in “unnecessary touching.” There had been no hugs or kisses. No tickles. Nothing that even remotely spoke of physical affection. It had been a sterile environment that caused Lilith to turn to food more and more for comfort. Those few lovers she had were clumsy and quick. So this man, tickling her, touching her without reason, excited her. More then that, it filled a need she hadn’t realize she had.
She just hoped and prayed he would be satisfied with tickling her upper body. God forbid if he should go for her feet!
He kept her in hysterics for awhile longer, then he pulled his hands out of her blouse and began to tickle her loose, sunburnt breasts. The reddened skin didn’t need much stimulation. She practically jumped out of her skin. Then he tickled the pale underside of her large bust. Making her laugh and moan at the same time, working his gloved fingers closer and closer to her rock hard nipples.
Loud guffaws escaped her as his fingers brushed lightly over the hardened nubs of flesh. Lilith had always been ashamed of her nipples. They were not large at all, but rather small, she could hide them easily with the very tips of her pinkies, unlike other women who’s nipples were as large as the pad of their thumbs. Yet somehow when this unknown man tormented them, her nipples felt like they were entire acres.
“Ready to confess, witch?” He asked, this time giving Lilith a chance to answer.
“Yes! Yes!” Lilith shouted, hoping that he would let her go back to the faire. Her panties were damp and she longed to play her fingers between her legs. “I’m a witch but I repent! Just let me go....”
The dungeon master just laughed and unlocked the stocks, catching Lilith as she nearly fell. Holding her by one hand he began to remove her clothing. She tried to resist but his fingers began to explore her ticklish torso again. He expertly stripped her of her blouse and bodice while making her squirm and laugh. Then he untied the string that held up her over skirt. The underskirt came next. Underneath Lilith was wearing modern panties, plain white cotton. He pushed these down while tickling her wide, flaring hips.
Now Lilith wore nothing but her leather boots. She saw the dungeon master’s eyes flicker down to them. Panicking, she tried to run. He caught her with one arm and began to tickle her right where her thighs and butt met. Her eyes flew open extremely wide. So wide she thought they would fall out. Mouth open in a screaming rictus of laughter. Her torturer exploited this area, tickling her there without mercy even as he dragged her to the foot stocks.
He locked her hands in the cuffs first. Then knelt down and began to remove her left boot.
“Please, I’ll let you tickle me anywhere else, just don’t - please, my feet are really ugly.” Shame caused Lilith’s skin to turn bright red. “They’re - deformed.”
“Now, my dear witch,” he replied, “you have me curious.”
The dungeon master pulled off the boot only to find not one, but nearly five pairs of thick cotton socks. The “Lee” had bought boots too big for her feet, then put on the socks to hold them in place. Grabbing the socks, he peeled off all five at once.
Then gasped. Not five, but six toes wiggled in front of him.
Lilith began to cry. Her arousal gone as her tormentor and seducer had seen her secret shame.
Standing, he rubbed the tears from her face then moved over to her right foot, repeating the procedure. Again, six wiggling toes. In all twelve, not ten, toes to tickle.
The rest of her feet were perfect. Small and wide, with soft looking soles just full of wrinkles to be exploited. Licking his lips, he now placed her feet in the stocks. Then moved over to her and cupped her face gently in his hands, rubbing away more tears. Dropping the act he put on for the faire, he said, “Don’t cry, my sweet. I think your feet are beautiful.”
Then he pulled off his gloves. Right there where Lilith couldn’t miss.
On each hand was six fingers. He had put two fingers up one in the gloves to give the illusion that he had the normal five fingers on each hand. He wiggled these fingers now, causing Lilith to giggle without even touching her. Then be began to tickle her behind the ears and over her neck. Teasing her under the chin.
He repeated the torso torture he had inflicted on her earlier until she was aroused again. He could smell it. She was a ticklee alright. A woman who craved to be tickled. Longed for it. Something necessary to her as breathing.
He wiggled his twelve fingers over her hips, inside and outside of her thighs. He worked over her knees with ruthless abandon. She bucked and squirmed and pleaded for the mercy he never gave, all the time becoming more and more filled with desire. Though she didn’t know this man’s name, she wanted him terribly! Longing to throw the caution of not having sex with strangers to the wind and just give herself over to him.
Then he let her rest and gave her water. As she panted and wished her hands were free to pleasure herself, he walked over to his instruments. He selected a long, pointed feather. Then returned.
It started slow. He was exploring her feet. Teasing her. Lilith began to bounce up and down, laughing wildly. More then that she realized that her arousal had grown ten times worse. Her feet had always been hidden away, never once had she been barefoot other then when washing. So her soles were extremely soft and sensitive. She could feel every separate part of the feather. Tickling her like mad.
When he was through tickling each wrinkle and crease, he began to tickle each of her toes. Working from the biggest down to the smallest. Each toe was just as ticklish as the last.
Except for the 6th toe on each foot. When the feathers touched them Lilith screamed her laughter so loud that she was soon out of breath. More then that, it felt like her toes were connected straight to her clit, so she was already on the verge of an orgasm. She had know that each toe contained a massive amount of nerve endings, which was why they had never been removed, for fear that it would do serious damage to her as the nerves were connected to a number of important areas.
This was not lost on the dungeon master. He stopped tickling these toes and worked his feathers on the arches of her feet. Making her laugh but not letting her orgasm.
For what seemed like hours, maybe years, he kept doing this. Tickling those extra toes, then stopping when he felt she was ready to peak and tickling the rest of her feet. Until he couldn’t take it any more.
His mouth locked around the extra toe on her right foot. The feathers were dropped as all twelve of his fingers ravished her soles with his cruel tickling. While his lips and tongue worked the right toe, his fingers played with the left.
It didn’t take long for Lilith to orgasm with a long, guttural, laugh-filled scream. The dungeon master felt his own need satisfied as well without ever having to release himself. Lilith hung weakly from the cuffs, unable to even lift her head.
Until her torture spoke. “I think I need to keep thee awhile longer, witch.” His twelve fingers wiggling at her. “Until thee confess all thy sins....”
Lilith hoped her friends wouldn’t notice she was missing for a long, long time....
~~The End~~
He could see which one it was now. A short, plump one with curly blond hair and pale pink skin. Her breasts were practically popping out of her top, unlike her friends who were so thin they were practically flat chested. He waited until the others had started off. Then he slipped his mask on, checked his gloves, and headed out of the tent, towards his intended prey.
..................................................
Lilith sighed in disappointment. The only reason she had come to this faire was to see the torture display. But it was closed. She was hot and sweaty, hardly able to breath in this stupid bodice, and the tops of her breasts were getting sunburned. Her friends didn’t care, but she did.
A gloved hand fell on her arm, wrapping around it gently but firmly. “Where art thou going, witch?”
Turning a bit, Lilith looked at a pair of dark green eyes framed by a black mask. “I’m not a witch, and I’m going to catch up with my friends.”
She tried to pull away, to go after her friends who were disappearing deeper into the throngs of people at the renaissance faire. She would soon lose them amongst all the other costumed people if she didn’t get away from this man soon. However his grip remained firm and Lilith would later admit she didn’t try too hard to escape him.
“Nay, witch.” The dungeon master said, drawing her towards the tent. “I am immune to thy spells. Now come, confess or I shall have to torture you.”
Even as her booted feet moved towards the tent, Lilith narrowed her eyes - one nearly ice blue, the other more of a light green-brown - and sneered, “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Funny you should mention that.” The masked man said, pulling Lilith all the way inside.
The tent was actually a facade. Inside the large cloth structure was storage container. When Lilith was pulled inside she saw it had been soundproofed and a small generator supplied electricity to fake torches, as well as an air conditioner that kept the place cool. The dungeon master let Lilith go as he pulled the door closed and locked it with a combination paddle lock.
The container was full of devices like Lilith had imagine, but rather then the devices of pain such as the Judas Chair, a device that was found amongst Saddam’s collection of torture equipment that he used, these things seemed rather mundane. There were a few types of stocks, one that would hold just her head and hands, another for her feet with a long bar at the back, from it hung a chain and cuffs so the arms could be pulled high above the head. There was a rack but judging from the looks it was designed to comfortably restrain rather then hurt. Same went for the X-frame. There was even a four poster bed with long silk scarves.
Nor was there any whips, thumbscrews, or any other tools for pain. The tools there were much more terrifying to Lilith however. There were feathers and back scratches. Vibrators with little rubber nubs. Electric toothbrushes and water picks.
Tools for tickling.
Lilith tried to make a break for the door, but the dungeon master simply wrapped his arms around her thick waist and pulled her towards the first set of stocks. Gently but persistently pushing on her head until it was in place, holding it with one hand until he could get one of her wrists in. He partially closed the stocks and at the last second slipped her other hand in place. Then locked the stocks completely.
His gloved hands then began to work on the ties of her bodice. Soon it hung open on either side of her. Her large breasts swayed.
“Art thou ready to confess, witch?”
“Let me out of here you big galoot!”
“Ye had thy chance!”
With that gloved hands slipped up inside Lilith’s shirt and began to viciously tickle her belly. She squealed and squirmed, rubbing her more then generous backside against her captor. With the gloves on his fingers easily slid over her uber-ticklish skin. Exploring her deep belly button with rapid movements. Her breasts popped out of her blouse and were now swinging freely, slapping against the wood of the stocks.
He reached up farther and began to cruelly tickle her ribs. Lilith’s eyes closed as she felt the evil fingers playing her flesh. Making each nerve ending sing. He tickled both her ribs and belly until she couldn’t breath. Then he stopped. Moving around closer to her head. He repeated his question about her confession, but Lilith was too busy gasping for breath to answer.
The dungeon master knew this.
His fingers found her armpits now. Twirling and dancing. Lilith laughed even harder. Each pass of his wiggling fingers was agony.
Sweet agony!
Lilith admitted to herself that somehow being helpless to the evil tickling desires of this unknown masked man was bringing forth all sorts of lustful feelings. Before she had always been touched in boring, conventional ways. Her family hadn’t believe in “unnecessary touching.” There had been no hugs or kisses. No tickles. Nothing that even remotely spoke of physical affection. It had been a sterile environment that caused Lilith to turn to food more and more for comfort. Those few lovers she had were clumsy and quick. So this man, tickling her, touching her without reason, excited her. More then that, it filled a need she hadn’t realize she had.
She just hoped and prayed he would be satisfied with tickling her upper body. God forbid if he should go for her feet!
He kept her in hysterics for awhile longer, then he pulled his hands out of her blouse and began to tickle her loose, sunburnt breasts. The reddened skin didn’t need much stimulation. She practically jumped out of her skin. Then he tickled the pale underside of her large bust. Making her laugh and moan at the same time, working his gloved fingers closer and closer to her rock hard nipples.
Loud guffaws escaped her as his fingers brushed lightly over the hardened nubs of flesh. Lilith had always been ashamed of her nipples. They were not large at all, but rather small, she could hide them easily with the very tips of her pinkies, unlike other women who’s nipples were as large as the pad of their thumbs. Yet somehow when this unknown man tormented them, her nipples felt like they were entire acres.
“Ready to confess, witch?” He asked, this time giving Lilith a chance to answer.
“Yes! Yes!” Lilith shouted, hoping that he would let her go back to the faire. Her panties were damp and she longed to play her fingers between her legs. “I’m a witch but I repent! Just let me go....”
The dungeon master just laughed and unlocked the stocks, catching Lilith as she nearly fell. Holding her by one hand he began to remove her clothing. She tried to resist but his fingers began to explore her ticklish torso again. He expertly stripped her of her blouse and bodice while making her squirm and laugh. Then he untied the string that held up her over skirt. The underskirt came next. Underneath Lilith was wearing modern panties, plain white cotton. He pushed these down while tickling her wide, flaring hips.
Now Lilith wore nothing but her leather boots. She saw the dungeon master’s eyes flicker down to them. Panicking, she tried to run. He caught her with one arm and began to tickle her right where her thighs and butt met. Her eyes flew open extremely wide. So wide she thought they would fall out. Mouth open in a screaming rictus of laughter. Her torturer exploited this area, tickling her there without mercy even as he dragged her to the foot stocks.
He locked her hands in the cuffs first. Then knelt down and began to remove her left boot.
“Please, I’ll let you tickle me anywhere else, just don’t - please, my feet are really ugly.” Shame caused Lilith’s skin to turn bright red. “They’re - deformed.”
“Now, my dear witch,” he replied, “you have me curious.”
The dungeon master pulled off the boot only to find not one, but nearly five pairs of thick cotton socks. The “Lee” had bought boots too big for her feet, then put on the socks to hold them in place. Grabbing the socks, he peeled off all five at once.
Then gasped. Not five, but six toes wiggled in front of him.
Lilith began to cry. Her arousal gone as her tormentor and seducer had seen her secret shame.
Standing, he rubbed the tears from her face then moved over to her right foot, repeating the procedure. Again, six wiggling toes. In all twelve, not ten, toes to tickle.
The rest of her feet were perfect. Small and wide, with soft looking soles just full of wrinkles to be exploited. Licking his lips, he now placed her feet in the stocks. Then moved over to her and cupped her face gently in his hands, rubbing away more tears. Dropping the act he put on for the faire, he said, “Don’t cry, my sweet. I think your feet are beautiful.”
Then he pulled off his gloves. Right there where Lilith couldn’t miss.
On each hand was six fingers. He had put two fingers up one in the gloves to give the illusion that he had the normal five fingers on each hand. He wiggled these fingers now, causing Lilith to giggle without even touching her. Then be began to tickle her behind the ears and over her neck. Teasing her under the chin.
He repeated the torso torture he had inflicted on her earlier until she was aroused again. He could smell it. She was a ticklee alright. A woman who craved to be tickled. Longed for it. Something necessary to her as breathing.
He wiggled his twelve fingers over her hips, inside and outside of her thighs. He worked over her knees with ruthless abandon. She bucked and squirmed and pleaded for the mercy he never gave, all the time becoming more and more filled with desire. Though she didn’t know this man’s name, she wanted him terribly! Longing to throw the caution of not having sex with strangers to the wind and just give herself over to him.
Then he let her rest and gave her water. As she panted and wished her hands were free to pleasure herself, he walked over to his instruments. He selected a long, pointed feather. Then returned.
It started slow. He was exploring her feet. Teasing her. Lilith began to bounce up and down, laughing wildly. More then that she realized that her arousal had grown ten times worse. Her feet had always been hidden away, never once had she been barefoot other then when washing. So her soles were extremely soft and sensitive. She could feel every separate part of the feather. Tickling her like mad.
When he was through tickling each wrinkle and crease, he began to tickle each of her toes. Working from the biggest down to the smallest. Each toe was just as ticklish as the last.
Except for the 6th toe on each foot. When the feathers touched them Lilith screamed her laughter so loud that she was soon out of breath. More then that, it felt like her toes were connected straight to her clit, so she was already on the verge of an orgasm. She had know that each toe contained a massive amount of nerve endings, which was why they had never been removed, for fear that it would do serious damage to her as the nerves were connected to a number of important areas.
This was not lost on the dungeon master. He stopped tickling these toes and worked his feathers on the arches of her feet. Making her laugh but not letting her orgasm.
For what seemed like hours, maybe years, he kept doing this. Tickling those extra toes, then stopping when he felt she was ready to peak and tickling the rest of her feet. Until he couldn’t take it any more.
His mouth locked around the extra toe on her right foot. The feathers were dropped as all twelve of his fingers ravished her soles with his cruel tickling. While his lips and tongue worked the right toe, his fingers played with the left.
It didn’t take long for Lilith to orgasm with a long, guttural, laugh-filled scream. The dungeon master felt his own need satisfied as well without ever having to release himself. Lilith hung weakly from the cuffs, unable to even lift her head.
Until her torture spoke. “I think I need to keep thee awhile longer, witch.” His twelve fingers wiggling at her. “Until thee confess all thy sins....”
Lilith hoped her friends wouldn’t notice she was missing for a long, long time....
~~The End~~
