ticklishrilina1
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Dec 10, 2002
- Messages
- 177
- Points
- 0
I have tried to make this as spoiler free as possible given I have not beaten the game yet. So basic themes of conspiracy apply, as well as a brief mention to the plot.
This is a fictional story about the game Mirror's Edge. It contains mostly feet, although some upperbody and erotic tickling as well. My first story, be kind 😉
Mirror's Edge: The Facility
Harsh white light filtered in through Faith’s groggy eyes as she came to, her head throbbing. Was she hung over? She normally didn’t drink that much…a few thoughts ran through her head as she tried to remember. With a jolt she finally remembered what happened; she was being chased by the blues, and something hit her.
Her eyes snapped open and she winced under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights bouncing off nothing but white walls. She was in a cell of all white: White padded walls, a white bed, a white door with a white sign and the only coloring in the room labeling it the bathroom. Besides the black lettering on the sign the only color in the room was here, her red sneakers in front of her. She tried to tuck them under her to stand, when she realized they were caught.
Around her ankles, the ties on her pants undone so it could clamp on flesh, was white metal, binding her down in a modern approximation of a set of stocks. She was seated on a (you guessed it) white chair with a high back, her slender arms shackled up over her head. Still wincing from the brightness she began looking around for anything she could use to try to get out of this, and found nothing.
After minutes of futile effort the door to the cell slid open and a woman in a white gown walked in, dressed in business attire. She carried an attaché case, which she set on a small table next to Faith’s bound ankles.
“Good, you’re awake.” The woman said with a smile that seemed to be genuinely pleased. “We were wondering how long you were going to be out. Welcome to the Facility.”
“Where the hell am I?” Faith challenged, rattling her wrist cuffs because it was better than nothing. “Whats the Facility?” She asked angrily.
“The Facility is where we keep our political prisoners. People that know things that we want to know, but who we also want to have disappear. Its quite comfortable, or so I’m told.” The woman responded, laughing as if she had told a joke. Looking around the bleak room it certainly didn’t look rich.
“So what do you think that I know?” Faith challenged. “This has to do with Pope, doesn’t it.”
“Partially, we don’t want you telling anyone what you know about that. But we also are looking at this as…an opportunity, to learn more about your little operations.” The Woman in White responded, sitting down primly at Faith’s feet.
“And why the hell do you think I’ll tell you anything? I’ll—“ Faith began, before she was cut off.
“Yes, you’ll never talk, blah blah blah.” The WiW spoke, snorting. “That is almost as much of a cliché as this: We’re going to make you talk.” She said, reaching out to begin deftly undoing the laces of Faith’s two-toed tennis.
“How? Besides, I don’t know anything. We’re not organized like a government, runners just do the work; we don’t have a union, or elections, or a leader.” Faith protested, unable to keep a note of curiosity from coming out as her shoes were removed.
Faith’s feet, like the rest of her, were small and athletic, and well kept if not pampered. The were the feet of a runner, well used but insolated by her thick though flexible shoes and so not particularly calloused or rough. She shivered, the cool air of the cell running over her slightly warm feet, her red painted toes curling.
“Hmm, a little dirty, but I think we’ll have some time to fix that; didn’t your mother ever teach you to wear socks?” The Woman tsked as she stood up.
“You didn’t answer my question…” Faith told her, struggling again as the woman took out a length of surgical tubing and tied Faith’s big toes back, despite their struggling.
“Oh, the same way we’re getting information out of your sister about traitors in the Police Department.” The Woman said as she pulled a remote out of her jacket pocket, and pressed a button. The left side wall went opaque and speakers, hidden in the molding, turned on. Faith gasped at what she saw.
Her sister Kate was in the cell next to hers, and in a similar position to Faith; except that her body was stretched out with shackles to a hook in the ceiling, leaving her elevated with her feet still spread wide in the stocks. And that she was totally naked.
She was surrounded by three women, 20s to 30s, who were tormenting her with great relish. One was seated underneath her and was dancing her fingernails across the police woman’s armpits and ribs as if playing a piano, while another straddled her and was tickling at her pert stomach and bouncing breasts. And a third was seated at her feet, sadistically holding up what looked to be electric shoe polishers to Kate’s poor feet.
Kate was spasming with wild laughter, shrieking hysterically. At the top of her lungs she shouted “EFEHEHEHEIE!” A mutilated version of her nickname for her sister, Effie. “EHEHEHFIIHIHIE HEHEHEHELP!”
As Faith watched the woman tickling Kate’s stomach teasingly ran a feather across Kate’s trapped pussy, and began making low, teasing murmurs as the tenor of her sister’s squealing changed. Blanching, and not wanting to see either her sister’s torment or the erotic aspects of it, Faith turned away as the wall went opaque again.
Faith snapped her head back as she felt a prick in her foot that sent a spasm rippling through her body as it dragged its way down. She bit her lower lip, desperate to keep her laughter inside and not give the woman any satisfaction.
“Oh come now, do you think your sister didn’t fight?” The woman queried with a laugh as she simply dragged a finger down the center of Faith’s bound foot again. “We wouldn’t be doing it this way if it wasn’t so effective.” She added a second finger to the trailing and Faith’s reserve burst, the normal tough runner squealing girlishly and thrashing her head about.
“ShihihIHIHIT!” She gasped as two nails were added to her other arch, wiggling and gyrating their way across the tender flesh.
“You see in an orderly and lawful society there have to be outlets for certain…aggressions, perhaps, or desires. Pent up they can become quite dangerous in the long run. We’ve found that by giving people of a certain psychological dimension these outlets, torturing young men and woman in various ways for information, we can make them productive members of society.”
“BUHUHUT IT’S TOHOHORTUHUHURE!” Faith shouted angrily, sputtering the words through her wild giggling as beads of sweat appeared on her brow. With a grin the woman began sliding her long, manicured nails between Faith’s toes; this brought even wilder laughter from the young woman, as she lost the ability to speak temporarily.
“Of course it is. But you’re a criminal, so its not like it matters.” She continued. Now she worked all of her nails in on Faith’s feet, tracing and teasing at the arch and the heel, at the sole; no space left untouched. Faith felt as if she were naked, her whole world consumed by the tickling on her naked feet, her chest heaving for breath as she wheezed with laughter. Minutes dragged on like this, her breath growing increasingly ragged.
“Oh don’t pass out, its worse when you wake up.” The woman teased as she went in for the kill. Her warm mouth closed on Faith’s big toe, her soft tongue teasing the sensitive space between the runner’s toes as Faith howled over a new plateau in laughter. Girlish and insane at the same time it took her breath away, and left her with silent laughter.
Minute stretched on after agonizing minute, each one stretching on for days in Faith's tortured mind. She had never been tormented like this, and even the playful tickling the sisters used to exchange seemed in memory a paradise compared to this torture. The nails simply never stopped scratching, teasing, wiggling. They never stayed in one place long enough to dull it, and to her amazement Faith never got desensitized to the torment. Just felt more of it, a rushing and unstoppable tied.
She did not know how long it took, weeks or maybe an hour, but finally even her silent helpless laughter could not be sustained and she collapsed, her world going black and, for the moment, mercifully tickle free
--------------
Once more Faith woke up groggily, but this time to an incessant pinching at her nipples. She gasped and snapped awake to the realization that she was spread out and a little airborne, tied up exactly like she had seen Kate. And that those three young women had assumed the same positions on her, grinning wickedly as they waited for her to wake up. She saw the window to Kate’s cell was opaque, her poor tortured sister bound in stocks and watching her tortures begin.
All at once the girls began to torment the slender runner. Sharp nails scratching at the taut and helpless hollows of her armpits, stiff feathers dancing at her tummy and across her aching nipples and the wild, mind-shattering tickling of a thousands of soft and tiny ridges buffing her feet clean as the shoe polishers went in to effect. She was lost in that first rush, a mad woman of giggling and hysteria, so insensate she barely noticed when a fourth set of hands began teasing her privates with a feather duster.
“It doesn’t matter that we’re doing this, as I said to you earlier. You ran on the edge for your whole life, Faith…and now you’ll be in here for the rest of it.” The Woman in White said with a laugh as Faith spasmed and shrieked with wild laughter, already wondering if talking could ease this even for a minute. Her laughter rocked the room, and Kate’s, but not one giggle escaped the cell of the facility; just one more prisoner from the edge that needed to disappear.
This is a fictional story about the game Mirror's Edge. It contains mostly feet, although some upperbody and erotic tickling as well. My first story, be kind 😉
Mirror's Edge: The Facility
Harsh white light filtered in through Faith’s groggy eyes as she came to, her head throbbing. Was she hung over? She normally didn’t drink that much…a few thoughts ran through her head as she tried to remember. With a jolt she finally remembered what happened; she was being chased by the blues, and something hit her.
Her eyes snapped open and she winced under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights bouncing off nothing but white walls. She was in a cell of all white: White padded walls, a white bed, a white door with a white sign and the only coloring in the room labeling it the bathroom. Besides the black lettering on the sign the only color in the room was here, her red sneakers in front of her. She tried to tuck them under her to stand, when she realized they were caught.
Around her ankles, the ties on her pants undone so it could clamp on flesh, was white metal, binding her down in a modern approximation of a set of stocks. She was seated on a (you guessed it) white chair with a high back, her slender arms shackled up over her head. Still wincing from the brightness she began looking around for anything she could use to try to get out of this, and found nothing.
After minutes of futile effort the door to the cell slid open and a woman in a white gown walked in, dressed in business attire. She carried an attaché case, which she set on a small table next to Faith’s bound ankles.
“Good, you’re awake.” The woman said with a smile that seemed to be genuinely pleased. “We were wondering how long you were going to be out. Welcome to the Facility.”
“Where the hell am I?” Faith challenged, rattling her wrist cuffs because it was better than nothing. “Whats the Facility?” She asked angrily.
“The Facility is where we keep our political prisoners. People that know things that we want to know, but who we also want to have disappear. Its quite comfortable, or so I’m told.” The woman responded, laughing as if she had told a joke. Looking around the bleak room it certainly didn’t look rich.
“So what do you think that I know?” Faith challenged. “This has to do with Pope, doesn’t it.”
“Partially, we don’t want you telling anyone what you know about that. But we also are looking at this as…an opportunity, to learn more about your little operations.” The Woman in White responded, sitting down primly at Faith’s feet.
“And why the hell do you think I’ll tell you anything? I’ll—“ Faith began, before she was cut off.
“Yes, you’ll never talk, blah blah blah.” The WiW spoke, snorting. “That is almost as much of a cliché as this: We’re going to make you talk.” She said, reaching out to begin deftly undoing the laces of Faith’s two-toed tennis.
“How? Besides, I don’t know anything. We’re not organized like a government, runners just do the work; we don’t have a union, or elections, or a leader.” Faith protested, unable to keep a note of curiosity from coming out as her shoes were removed.
Faith’s feet, like the rest of her, were small and athletic, and well kept if not pampered. The were the feet of a runner, well used but insolated by her thick though flexible shoes and so not particularly calloused or rough. She shivered, the cool air of the cell running over her slightly warm feet, her red painted toes curling.
“Hmm, a little dirty, but I think we’ll have some time to fix that; didn’t your mother ever teach you to wear socks?” The Woman tsked as she stood up.
“You didn’t answer my question…” Faith told her, struggling again as the woman took out a length of surgical tubing and tied Faith’s big toes back, despite their struggling.
“Oh, the same way we’re getting information out of your sister about traitors in the Police Department.” The Woman said as she pulled a remote out of her jacket pocket, and pressed a button. The left side wall went opaque and speakers, hidden in the molding, turned on. Faith gasped at what she saw.
Her sister Kate was in the cell next to hers, and in a similar position to Faith; except that her body was stretched out with shackles to a hook in the ceiling, leaving her elevated with her feet still spread wide in the stocks. And that she was totally naked.
She was surrounded by three women, 20s to 30s, who were tormenting her with great relish. One was seated underneath her and was dancing her fingernails across the police woman’s armpits and ribs as if playing a piano, while another straddled her and was tickling at her pert stomach and bouncing breasts. And a third was seated at her feet, sadistically holding up what looked to be electric shoe polishers to Kate’s poor feet.
Kate was spasming with wild laughter, shrieking hysterically. At the top of her lungs she shouted “EFEHEHEHEIE!” A mutilated version of her nickname for her sister, Effie. “EHEHEHFIIHIHIE HEHEHEHELP!”
As Faith watched the woman tickling Kate’s stomach teasingly ran a feather across Kate’s trapped pussy, and began making low, teasing murmurs as the tenor of her sister’s squealing changed. Blanching, and not wanting to see either her sister’s torment or the erotic aspects of it, Faith turned away as the wall went opaque again.
Faith snapped her head back as she felt a prick in her foot that sent a spasm rippling through her body as it dragged its way down. She bit her lower lip, desperate to keep her laughter inside and not give the woman any satisfaction.
“Oh come now, do you think your sister didn’t fight?” The woman queried with a laugh as she simply dragged a finger down the center of Faith’s bound foot again. “We wouldn’t be doing it this way if it wasn’t so effective.” She added a second finger to the trailing and Faith’s reserve burst, the normal tough runner squealing girlishly and thrashing her head about.
“ShihihIHIHIT!” She gasped as two nails were added to her other arch, wiggling and gyrating their way across the tender flesh.
“You see in an orderly and lawful society there have to be outlets for certain…aggressions, perhaps, or desires. Pent up they can become quite dangerous in the long run. We’ve found that by giving people of a certain psychological dimension these outlets, torturing young men and woman in various ways for information, we can make them productive members of society.”
“BUHUHUT IT’S TOHOHORTUHUHURE!” Faith shouted angrily, sputtering the words through her wild giggling as beads of sweat appeared on her brow. With a grin the woman began sliding her long, manicured nails between Faith’s toes; this brought even wilder laughter from the young woman, as she lost the ability to speak temporarily.
“Of course it is. But you’re a criminal, so its not like it matters.” She continued. Now she worked all of her nails in on Faith’s feet, tracing and teasing at the arch and the heel, at the sole; no space left untouched. Faith felt as if she were naked, her whole world consumed by the tickling on her naked feet, her chest heaving for breath as she wheezed with laughter. Minutes dragged on like this, her breath growing increasingly ragged.
“Oh don’t pass out, its worse when you wake up.” The woman teased as she went in for the kill. Her warm mouth closed on Faith’s big toe, her soft tongue teasing the sensitive space between the runner’s toes as Faith howled over a new plateau in laughter. Girlish and insane at the same time it took her breath away, and left her with silent laughter.
Minute stretched on after agonizing minute, each one stretching on for days in Faith's tortured mind. She had never been tormented like this, and even the playful tickling the sisters used to exchange seemed in memory a paradise compared to this torture. The nails simply never stopped scratching, teasing, wiggling. They never stayed in one place long enough to dull it, and to her amazement Faith never got desensitized to the torment. Just felt more of it, a rushing and unstoppable tied.
She did not know how long it took, weeks or maybe an hour, but finally even her silent helpless laughter could not be sustained and she collapsed, her world going black and, for the moment, mercifully tickle free
--------------
Once more Faith woke up groggily, but this time to an incessant pinching at her nipples. She gasped and snapped awake to the realization that she was spread out and a little airborne, tied up exactly like she had seen Kate. And that those three young women had assumed the same positions on her, grinning wickedly as they waited for her to wake up. She saw the window to Kate’s cell was opaque, her poor tortured sister bound in stocks and watching her tortures begin.
All at once the girls began to torment the slender runner. Sharp nails scratching at the taut and helpless hollows of her armpits, stiff feathers dancing at her tummy and across her aching nipples and the wild, mind-shattering tickling of a thousands of soft and tiny ridges buffing her feet clean as the shoe polishers went in to effect. She was lost in that first rush, a mad woman of giggling and hysteria, so insensate she barely noticed when a fourth set of hands began teasing her privates with a feather duster.
“It doesn’t matter that we’re doing this, as I said to you earlier. You ran on the edge for your whole life, Faith…and now you’ll be in here for the rest of it.” The Woman in White said with a laugh as Faith spasmed and shrieked with wild laughter, already wondering if talking could ease this even for a minute. Her laughter rocked the room, and Kate’s, but not one giggle escaped the cell of the facility; just one more prisoner from the edge that needed to disappear.
