Jaynin
4th Level Red Feather
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So, I typed up something quick as usual today, and then realized it didn't really 'fit' anywhere in the categories I've made to contain my stories. Seeing as I like them organized, I eventually hit upon the idea of making a series of short stories with the title Not The Feet! which is about, you can guess, girls with really ticklish feet.
I'm not sure if this will actually go anywhere, as I have a tendency to think of grandiose plans and then never finish anything, but we'll see how it goes. In the meantime, I'm extending the offer to post suggestions as to topics that might be covered in such a series. Bear in mind the following:
-Suggestions are NOT requests. I promise nothing.
-Any suggestion that that is based in a more mundane or everyday setting is more likely than not to be passed over. Not trying to be exclusive, but...
-The best way to get something you suggest written is to catch my attention. If you've read these stories you know how I tend to write, and "Jenny at the shoe store gets tickled by her manager" is hardly something I would consider taking up.
I'm not trying to discourage people from coming up with ideas, but I know how I tend to operate, and I'm trying to preemptively cut down on this turning into a 'request thread'. Aside from that, fire away. I do promise to read every suggestion, even if I don't follow through.
Enough with the prattle.
---
The biggest and strongest in the entire Drow army was General Roisha, a feared opponent on the battlefield, able to wield a long spear as a one-handed weapon if she so chose without sacrificing any of its reach or power, a tall, muscled Drow warrior whose long experience on the battlefield carried with it many lessons learned. No one was invincible, but the difference between a warrior who grew into an expert fighter and one who moldered alongside a forgotten stream as a skeleton was that the warrior who survived learned from mistakes made and lived to correct them. And so it was that as Roisha learned of and ruthlessly eradicated each and every one of the mistakes she had made through her career, she became a more and more fearsome opponent, until her battlefield prowess was legendary, and atop that she was gifted with a keen eye and sharp mind for battlefield tactics. She had endured the harshest battlefield conditions, fought her way out of numerous encirclements and surprise attacks, and withstood her enemies' torture when she fell into the hands of the opposing side.
So it was that the tall Drow with long silver hair braided tightly at the back of her neck and falling down to nearly her buttocks glared mutely but impassively at the bustling, half-wolf and half-man brutes that had proven stronger than expected, ambushed her patrol and taken most of them captive, and now had tied her almost head to toe with strong ropes, a sign of how much they feared her getting free. Her armor had been stripped from her, leaving just undergarments and shoes, but Roisha was unconcerned. If they thought to rape her, well, it would take more than that to break the will of a career soldier. If they thought simply to humiliate her by making her go half-clothed, well, they would have to do better than this. She was seated in the middle of a small village, little more than a collection of huts held together with sticks and mud, hardly worth bothering with except the wolf-men had started trying to raid into the territory of the Drow lands, and the proud people had emerged from their underground cities to protect the land that was theirs, not willing to suffer intruders. The Drow army's greatest strength, and one that most invaders never realized, was the extensive cave and tunnel network that honeycombed the land, allowing them to move vast numbers of soldiers in secret, and strike where they were not expected. Roisha knew well how to exploit this advantage, and had been successful in driving the wolf-men back through several skirmishes, but since they had taken to the deep forest, it became necessary to scout them out before continuing to press the attack.
One of the wolf-men grunted something in their language, and Roisha's boots, which had been left alone, were removed as if they were an afterthought. Roisha barely noticed this, her only reaction to consider idly if they thought they might employ their torture upon the soles of her feet. Experience had taught the big Drow that her very large feet were actually quite sensitive, and the few times previous she had been treated to foot-spanking and fire and other such torments, the torturers had been extremely uncreative in their methods but somehow the effectiveness had been significantly improved. Her iron will had not bent, but the perceptive general realized that this was a particular spot she should be mindful of. It didn't concern her this time, though; she knew that last time she had been caught unawares, and this time she was prepared. It would make no difference what they did. She was set in a kind of stocks that kept her feet in place, while the rest of her body was bound tightly to a stone pillar, and she was seated upon the ground with her legs elevated slightly. Minute shifting of her powerful muscles had revealed that the pillar was not set deep into the ground with a formation, but simply put into a hole which had been filled in. Given time, she could work the pillar loose and use that to slacken her bonds.
A sharp prick in each ankle caught her attention. Specially placed holes in the wooden frame of the stocks now showed wolf-men pushing extremely thin needles through, their points terminating in her captive ankles. The small needles barely pricked the skin, no more concern than an insect's bite, and Roisha ignored the sensation after considering it for a moment. Satisfied after each ankle had four needles at varying, oddly asymmetrical angles, the wolf-men gathered around her had backed away save one, whose snout twisted in an almost comical expression as he fought to get his tongue around the words of the Drow language: "Drow soldier. Tell where armies come from. If not, we punish." Roisha, upon hearing this, simply laughed and spat at her captor. The spittle landed short, but the arrogant General continued to sneer. Punish, he had said? How frightful. The wolf-men didn't grow angry at her show of defiance, however. Two of them stepped forth and squatted to either side of the stocks, each holding something that looked like a small twig. One of these stroked slightly on the Drow general's massive foot. Roisha noticed the sensation, and her leg twitched involuntarily, though that twitch seemed to run only to her ankle and then cease, her feet not moving. It happened again, and her lips compressed themselves into a tight, thoughtful frown. This was new, if not especially effective or creative...
One of the sticks touched the point directly where her toes met the ball of her foot, and the big Drow snorted, her legs twitching again. Seemingly, they had been looking for a reaction such as that; with a growled, guttural comment from the one who had elicited the reaction, a dozen others who had been waiting nearby were called in, squatting nearby as the two with the twigs explained something which the Drow couldn't understand, though it was accompanied by a lot of prodding by those sticks, and the twitchy sensation they elicited in her. Roisha's face remained impassive, although they kept prodding at the spot which had made her snort before. This time, Roisha noticed that her mouth wanted to twist into a grin. She fought it, but as the wolf-men nodded understanding, their clawed fingertips reached for the flesh of Roisha's feet, and the Drow general gritted her teeth, preparing for the impending - laugh? She was slightly confused by her own reaction, bursting out into laughter as her legs kicked, but her feet remained perfectly still as additional wolf-men added their claws to the flesh of her soles and raked them gently up and down, teasingly.
Roisha laughed freely. There didn't seem to be any point in stopping it - why not laugh? But it was only a very short amount of time later that she began to question the wisdom of that thought, as laughter turned into howls, howls that shook her massive chest and made her huge frame twist in the bindings that held her to the stone pillar. Indeed, the entire point of this torture was becoming readily apparent, and as much as the Drow wished she could have dismissed the notion entirely, her feet had other ideas. She realized that, whatever the needles had done, it prevented her from moving her feet even the slightest bit, no matter how hard she strained at the stocks or commanded her muscles. It was as if all motion simply stopped at her ankles, her large soles completely open to the attacks of the wolf-men's claws. But the form of the attack was so new to her that it was difficult to comprehend, the slow strokes of those scratching claws against her soles was maddening. Roisha laughed freely, straining her muscles, howling helplessly and twisting around as she shook her head back and forth in hysteria.
Still more were coming in. These wielded the same kind of short twigs from before, but they started to explore in between her toes and all around them, and this is when Roisha really blew up. The total inability to curl her toes or press them together let her tormentors wiggle her toes this way and that, using their fine sticks - all of which had a slightly roughened end - to probe in those small but crucial weak spots. Roisha leaned back against the stone pillar that was supporting her and strained so hard at her bonds that for a merciful second she thought she might black herself out, but a sudden swipe of a stick against a particular spot along the ball of her foot turned all of her muscles to water. The wolf-men noticed; several sticks converged on that point all at once, as well as some fingernails, the size of Roisha's feet allowing more than one of them at a time to exploit the weak spot, which apparently existed on both feet, as they discovered a second later.
Roisha screamed, a full-throated roar of hysterical laughter that surprised a few of the wolf-men, but they simply grinned amongst themselves, enjoying the frantic and powerful struggling from the neck down to the ankles, and then the complete and total helplessness of the feet, staying perfectly still for every single ticklish tease and stroke, running along the soft spots in her feet until Roisha thought her soles must be scratched raw, but they were just as tough as the rest of her, only a fair bit more sensitive. And the wolf-men seemed fairly expert at what they were doing anyway, so it wasn't as if they were going to focus too much on one spot and dilute its effectiveness. Indeed, a few bare moments after the discovery of the weak spots, most of the claws and sticks went back to other, less ticklish areas, amidst a few growls and grunts. Though Roisha assumed they were just making fun of her in their own language, in reality they were being instructed to find other weak spots. This task they eagerly went about, exploring in such a way as to cover more ground rather than simply tickling on the same spot, and the wolf-men were rewarded almost immediately, as Roisha's feet were revealed to be a patchwork of weaknesses:
Under her middle toe on both feet, the small joint between foot and pad was found to be extraordinarily ticklish, drawing howls of laughter so strong that tears came to the Drow general's eyes. And then another weak spot was found on the ball of her foot, all the way on the outside. Then yet another, right above her heel, and still another on the inside part of the foot, on the side of her foot rather than the sole. Each time such a weakness was found, a tickling claw or stick was added to it, and when finally it was decreed that the Drow had no more weak spots to be found, all the rest of them simply took up residence on a ticklish area and teased it relentlessly. The Drow general's voice was a high, hoarse scream as her massive frame bounced and struggled, helpless under the ticklish assault, her feet immobile thanks to the wolf-men's strange art. She would have given anything to have her hands free, and yet in the current situation her muscles felt as if they were rubbery and wouldn't support her full weight, or allow her the kind of punch that would cave a skull in...
The ticklish sensation raced up Roisha's legs and speedily entered her brain, screaming for immediate removal of her feet from the offending strokes and teases, but her muscles were powerless to respond to the call, and the nerves in her feet sapped the strength from the rest of her body, using up her energy in fruitless struggles carefully drawn out by the ticklish frenzy taking place on her feet. And yet that wasn't the way to describe it; the tickling was ruthlessly disciplined. Each wolf-man seemed to have a different strategy or technique for tickling his assigned area of her foot. Some of them used the very tip of a claw and traced a random pattern, only making contact with a small portion of her skin with the claw, but letting them probe into the minute creases and curves. Others used the claw tip to engage in long strokes, scratching at the skin as if to chase away a persistent itch, yet her feet weren't itching; they just tickled like hell. Those sticks were unbearably precise, the small, extremely fine teeth at the end of each one - Roisha couldn't tell that they were actually finely crafted - stimulating the nerves precisely, able to attack the small vulnerable spots at the joint of her middle toe or along the sides of her feet. And yet still others crowded in...
Roisha howled relentlessly, her voice starting to give out on her, even the iron-willed soldier with the bellowing voice finding her ability to speak stolen by gales of debilitating laughter... There were at least fifteen wolf-men crowded around her feet. The large area of her soles let them all get their claws and sticks in, let them all take a turn at tickle torturing the hysterical Drow, making it so that no spot on her foot lacked an attendant stimulator. No, this ticklishness was not going to simply burn out under its own power; the strokes were too expertly done, the tickling spread out just enough. Roisha would have been indignant had she had the presence of mind to do so. But there was literally nothing left to her. The Drow's mind had not been able to recognize the tickling as an immediate threat until it was too late, and now reason was left far behind in the wake of ticklish laughter, Roisha's thoughts tumbling incoherently as she tried and failed to find something, anything, to think about or focus on besides the tickling. There just was no way to deal with this... no way to stop it, either.
Abruptly she remembered that they had asked her a question at the start. Her first response, to laugh, was horrifyingly ironic in hindsight. That must be what it was about. An interrogation. But that straw was the last Roisha was able to grasp, before her ability to reason out why this was happening lost its grip on that one last thread and was lost in the blizzard of laughter. Her chest was like a bellows, massive chest having come out of the cloth undergarments she'd been wearing, but the Drow hardly noticed, so concerned was she with the tickling. Only the tickling; everything was the tickling. Her feet couldn't move an inch, not even a twitch left or right as the multitude of ticklish tormenting tools fiendishly tortured the tender soles. No thought was given to how the wolf-men knew to employ this on her. Nor was any given to why a savage race like the wolf-men would choose tickling as their method of coercion. They were too good at it not to have done it many times before. Roisha realized she wasn't struggling at the pillar anymore, and this lapse in resistance should have angered her, but tickling left no room for something like that. Just... everything was tickling. She couldn't take it.
It wasn't that Roisha was trying to resist her interrogators. It was simply that she couldn't begin to think about answering while her feet were devilishly tormented so, the stroking of claws and the scratching of sticks and the whole thing covering the entirety of her huge, soft feet. Tickling torture pushed rationality and coherence out of her grasp, and the only thing that remained to her was laughter. Because of her frayed and distracted state of mind, the wolf-man who had addressed her from the first had to repeat his statement three times before she caught it just barely: "Rest time." Roisha managed to get through enough of her thought process to be certain that he was teasing her or in some other way seeking to trick her, so it was actually a surprise to her when the tickling did finally stop, the claws and sticks ceasing to torment her sensitive spots, and Roisha sobbed with relief. "Rest now," he repeated. "Drow no good if die of laugh." Before her experience, she would have dismissed that as hyperbole. Now, she wasn't so sure...
Her first instinct turned out to be right on. Her captors had a very different idea of what "rest" was than she did, and as the sticks and claws withdrew, small smooth stones came out instead, being rolled dexterously across her feet, teasing the already tormented flesh. The hysteria wasn't nearly so bad this time, not by a long shot, but it was just enough to stop this from being restful and to keep her on the edge of giggling and squirming. Still, the intensity had fallen enough for Roisha to start to pick up the shattered pieces of her mind and pull herself up to a functional level, somehow. Okay. The thrust of their scheme was pretty evident, and if they got her in an unthinking state another time and started asking questions, she might not even remember answering them. She managed to shut out the low-key but still ticklish feeling of those oddly smooth stones being rolled across her feet as the resilient Drow once again let herself consider the possibility of escape. The stone pillar had shifted more with her wild struggles, but the inefficiency of straining at her own muscles and the ropes as she had definitely left her in a weakened state. That was troublesome. More troublesome was how a few of the wolf-men decided that things were too quiet without her laughing and used his fingernail to sneak a few strokes in on the underside of her middle toe, something that made Roisha let loose a one-time burst of laughter before calming down again - and just as she had regained her normal breathing, he did it again. Roisha wanted to glare, but she suspected that would just invite yet more...
The stones departed abruptly. "Now tell. Where armies come from?" Roisha shook her head, though the refusal lacked the outright defiance of the first. The wolf-man shrugged and made a gesture, but instead of the dozen wolf-men returning, only four came, these with a pail held between them and a few horsehair brushes. Roisha quickly realized that whatever was in the bucket was going to go on her feet, but she couldn't tell what it was, aside from the fact that it was just viscous enough not to drip off of her feet due to gravity. It didn't tickle much of its own accord, and the brushes had their friction greatly reduced, so it was little more tickling than the stones had been. But they made very sure to cover all of her foot with it, leading Roisha to suspect there was definitely more to it than met the eye...
That something was made blatantly obvious when a few goats were led up and tethered near her feet. There was no subtlety to the animals' actions, nor was there any attempt to hide their purpose made by the wolf-men. Roisha's eyes went wide - and then she screamed as the assault of the goat tongues began, It was insanity.
Roisha's carefully rebuilt sense of awareness was obliterated with the first lick that send unbearable skittering ticklishness shooting through her nerves. Joined moments later by three other goat tongues, Roisha's feet exploded into an unbearable cacophony of ticklish torment, but her screams were masked by another noise, one that was unexpected - the sudden shout of alarm given by a sentry, followed immediately by the dull thudding of hundreds of charging Drow. The reaction of the wolf-men was rapid and planned; they immediately charged in the direction of the battle noises which were drifting over to the village... to a man they deserted her, leaving Roisha all alone with the four goats.
Roisha screamed, a combination of frustration, relief, and ticklishness, and the soldier in her devoutly wished she could watch the battle unfold, to be of some use, but her mind was dominated with the sound of clashing metal, yelling, shouting, grunting, Drowish voices yelling battle commands, and of course the tickling. She couldn't sort any of the jumble out, except for one particular piece of it, which she realized dimly was her own voice, screaming at her rescuers to go faster and save her from the goats... Roisha was helpless beyond that, able to do nothing but pray for the sounds of the battle to reach her so that Drow soldiers could see her and then chase off the goats and cut her free. They would win. Roisha just wanted them to win faster. The goats mindlessly continued to lick at her soles, driving her laughter to a screaming pitch again.
It was just as bad as it had been before, and she'd been brought to this point so much faster now, the rough goat tongues an absolutely unbearable torment on her soft soles, the gluttonous creatures willing to lick at her soles, lick and lick and lick some more to try and free the substance from her feet, but they were too dimwitted to realize that some of the smells were coming from the tops of her feet, and so their tongues roamed the soles searching for more of the salty treat, cleaning the same spots over and over and over again, tongues polishing Roisha's sensitive skin until the Drow general thought that she might scream her voice out. And still the battle continued... was it her imagination or were they coming closer? Fervently she prayed that they were... she wanted so much to believe that the sounds were coming towards her. But she knew that a battle was a tricky thing, that you could sometimes hear fighting a mile off and sometimes it seemed so distant but was right around the next corner...
Roisha yelled, summoning all her strength to cry for her soldiers, to draw their attention, and to her vast relief a few crashed through the surrounding forest growth to come within her field of vision. But before they could chase away the goats, the Drow soldiers were set upon by wolf-men, and in hand-to-hand fighting they slowly spread out through the village, her soldiers seeking to isolate and kill the remaining wolf-men one by one, but all of them were too busy fighting to help her. All of them! Roisha would have screamed again but her voice had left her, now; the ticklish screaming had finally taken its toll, and here she was, laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes, laughing so hard she thought she might pee herself, right in front of her soldiers... Roisha struggled at her bonds once again, but her muscles' strength was long gone, no longer able to support such an endeavor or shift the heavy pillar to which she was attached. Her own hysteria filled her mind to the exclusion of all else. Not even the battle could make inroads to her mind now, which was consumed with tickling, slowly drowning, the goats at least having the mercy not to know how to prolong her torment like the wolf-men had...
The Drow general returned to consciousness with a snap, realizing she was still bound when that sudden jerk didn't move her very far. But she was surrounded by her own soldiers, and sighed with relief. "Not..." she managed to croak. "Not a word of this... to anyone," she warned the squad of twenty that had managed to reach her. "Not a word. Understand?" She tried to project the usual iron into her voice, the commanding tone that made soldiers leap to obey, but the lieutenant got a grin on her face that Roisha did not like at all. "I said... do you understand me?"
The lieutenant smirked. "We understand perfectly."
I'm not sure if this will actually go anywhere, as I have a tendency to think of grandiose plans and then never finish anything, but we'll see how it goes. In the meantime, I'm extending the offer to post suggestions as to topics that might be covered in such a series. Bear in mind the following:
-Suggestions are NOT requests. I promise nothing.
-Any suggestion that that is based in a more mundane or everyday setting is more likely than not to be passed over. Not trying to be exclusive, but...
-The best way to get something you suggest written is to catch my attention. If you've read these stories you know how I tend to write, and "Jenny at the shoe store gets tickled by her manager" is hardly something I would consider taking up.
I'm not trying to discourage people from coming up with ideas, but I know how I tend to operate, and I'm trying to preemptively cut down on this turning into a 'request thread'. Aside from that, fire away. I do promise to read every suggestion, even if I don't follow through.
Enough with the prattle.
---
The biggest and strongest in the entire Drow army was General Roisha, a feared opponent on the battlefield, able to wield a long spear as a one-handed weapon if she so chose without sacrificing any of its reach or power, a tall, muscled Drow warrior whose long experience on the battlefield carried with it many lessons learned. No one was invincible, but the difference between a warrior who grew into an expert fighter and one who moldered alongside a forgotten stream as a skeleton was that the warrior who survived learned from mistakes made and lived to correct them. And so it was that as Roisha learned of and ruthlessly eradicated each and every one of the mistakes she had made through her career, she became a more and more fearsome opponent, until her battlefield prowess was legendary, and atop that she was gifted with a keen eye and sharp mind for battlefield tactics. She had endured the harshest battlefield conditions, fought her way out of numerous encirclements and surprise attacks, and withstood her enemies' torture when she fell into the hands of the opposing side.
So it was that the tall Drow with long silver hair braided tightly at the back of her neck and falling down to nearly her buttocks glared mutely but impassively at the bustling, half-wolf and half-man brutes that had proven stronger than expected, ambushed her patrol and taken most of them captive, and now had tied her almost head to toe with strong ropes, a sign of how much they feared her getting free. Her armor had been stripped from her, leaving just undergarments and shoes, but Roisha was unconcerned. If they thought to rape her, well, it would take more than that to break the will of a career soldier. If they thought simply to humiliate her by making her go half-clothed, well, they would have to do better than this. She was seated in the middle of a small village, little more than a collection of huts held together with sticks and mud, hardly worth bothering with except the wolf-men had started trying to raid into the territory of the Drow lands, and the proud people had emerged from their underground cities to protect the land that was theirs, not willing to suffer intruders. The Drow army's greatest strength, and one that most invaders never realized, was the extensive cave and tunnel network that honeycombed the land, allowing them to move vast numbers of soldiers in secret, and strike where they were not expected. Roisha knew well how to exploit this advantage, and had been successful in driving the wolf-men back through several skirmishes, but since they had taken to the deep forest, it became necessary to scout them out before continuing to press the attack.
One of the wolf-men grunted something in their language, and Roisha's boots, which had been left alone, were removed as if they were an afterthought. Roisha barely noticed this, her only reaction to consider idly if they thought they might employ their torture upon the soles of her feet. Experience had taught the big Drow that her very large feet were actually quite sensitive, and the few times previous she had been treated to foot-spanking and fire and other such torments, the torturers had been extremely uncreative in their methods but somehow the effectiveness had been significantly improved. Her iron will had not bent, but the perceptive general realized that this was a particular spot she should be mindful of. It didn't concern her this time, though; she knew that last time she had been caught unawares, and this time she was prepared. It would make no difference what they did. She was set in a kind of stocks that kept her feet in place, while the rest of her body was bound tightly to a stone pillar, and she was seated upon the ground with her legs elevated slightly. Minute shifting of her powerful muscles had revealed that the pillar was not set deep into the ground with a formation, but simply put into a hole which had been filled in. Given time, she could work the pillar loose and use that to slacken her bonds.
A sharp prick in each ankle caught her attention. Specially placed holes in the wooden frame of the stocks now showed wolf-men pushing extremely thin needles through, their points terminating in her captive ankles. The small needles barely pricked the skin, no more concern than an insect's bite, and Roisha ignored the sensation after considering it for a moment. Satisfied after each ankle had four needles at varying, oddly asymmetrical angles, the wolf-men gathered around her had backed away save one, whose snout twisted in an almost comical expression as he fought to get his tongue around the words of the Drow language: "Drow soldier. Tell where armies come from. If not, we punish." Roisha, upon hearing this, simply laughed and spat at her captor. The spittle landed short, but the arrogant General continued to sneer. Punish, he had said? How frightful. The wolf-men didn't grow angry at her show of defiance, however. Two of them stepped forth and squatted to either side of the stocks, each holding something that looked like a small twig. One of these stroked slightly on the Drow general's massive foot. Roisha noticed the sensation, and her leg twitched involuntarily, though that twitch seemed to run only to her ankle and then cease, her feet not moving. It happened again, and her lips compressed themselves into a tight, thoughtful frown. This was new, if not especially effective or creative...
One of the sticks touched the point directly where her toes met the ball of her foot, and the big Drow snorted, her legs twitching again. Seemingly, they had been looking for a reaction such as that; with a growled, guttural comment from the one who had elicited the reaction, a dozen others who had been waiting nearby were called in, squatting nearby as the two with the twigs explained something which the Drow couldn't understand, though it was accompanied by a lot of prodding by those sticks, and the twitchy sensation they elicited in her. Roisha's face remained impassive, although they kept prodding at the spot which had made her snort before. This time, Roisha noticed that her mouth wanted to twist into a grin. She fought it, but as the wolf-men nodded understanding, their clawed fingertips reached for the flesh of Roisha's feet, and the Drow general gritted her teeth, preparing for the impending - laugh? She was slightly confused by her own reaction, bursting out into laughter as her legs kicked, but her feet remained perfectly still as additional wolf-men added their claws to the flesh of her soles and raked them gently up and down, teasingly.
Roisha laughed freely. There didn't seem to be any point in stopping it - why not laugh? But it was only a very short amount of time later that she began to question the wisdom of that thought, as laughter turned into howls, howls that shook her massive chest and made her huge frame twist in the bindings that held her to the stone pillar. Indeed, the entire point of this torture was becoming readily apparent, and as much as the Drow wished she could have dismissed the notion entirely, her feet had other ideas. She realized that, whatever the needles had done, it prevented her from moving her feet even the slightest bit, no matter how hard she strained at the stocks or commanded her muscles. It was as if all motion simply stopped at her ankles, her large soles completely open to the attacks of the wolf-men's claws. But the form of the attack was so new to her that it was difficult to comprehend, the slow strokes of those scratching claws against her soles was maddening. Roisha laughed freely, straining her muscles, howling helplessly and twisting around as she shook her head back and forth in hysteria.
Still more were coming in. These wielded the same kind of short twigs from before, but they started to explore in between her toes and all around them, and this is when Roisha really blew up. The total inability to curl her toes or press them together let her tormentors wiggle her toes this way and that, using their fine sticks - all of which had a slightly roughened end - to probe in those small but crucial weak spots. Roisha leaned back against the stone pillar that was supporting her and strained so hard at her bonds that for a merciful second she thought she might black herself out, but a sudden swipe of a stick against a particular spot along the ball of her foot turned all of her muscles to water. The wolf-men noticed; several sticks converged on that point all at once, as well as some fingernails, the size of Roisha's feet allowing more than one of them at a time to exploit the weak spot, which apparently existed on both feet, as they discovered a second later.
Roisha screamed, a full-throated roar of hysterical laughter that surprised a few of the wolf-men, but they simply grinned amongst themselves, enjoying the frantic and powerful struggling from the neck down to the ankles, and then the complete and total helplessness of the feet, staying perfectly still for every single ticklish tease and stroke, running along the soft spots in her feet until Roisha thought her soles must be scratched raw, but they were just as tough as the rest of her, only a fair bit more sensitive. And the wolf-men seemed fairly expert at what they were doing anyway, so it wasn't as if they were going to focus too much on one spot and dilute its effectiveness. Indeed, a few bare moments after the discovery of the weak spots, most of the claws and sticks went back to other, less ticklish areas, amidst a few growls and grunts. Though Roisha assumed they were just making fun of her in their own language, in reality they were being instructed to find other weak spots. This task they eagerly went about, exploring in such a way as to cover more ground rather than simply tickling on the same spot, and the wolf-men were rewarded almost immediately, as Roisha's feet were revealed to be a patchwork of weaknesses:
Under her middle toe on both feet, the small joint between foot and pad was found to be extraordinarily ticklish, drawing howls of laughter so strong that tears came to the Drow general's eyes. And then another weak spot was found on the ball of her foot, all the way on the outside. Then yet another, right above her heel, and still another on the inside part of the foot, on the side of her foot rather than the sole. Each time such a weakness was found, a tickling claw or stick was added to it, and when finally it was decreed that the Drow had no more weak spots to be found, all the rest of them simply took up residence on a ticklish area and teased it relentlessly. The Drow general's voice was a high, hoarse scream as her massive frame bounced and struggled, helpless under the ticklish assault, her feet immobile thanks to the wolf-men's strange art. She would have given anything to have her hands free, and yet in the current situation her muscles felt as if they were rubbery and wouldn't support her full weight, or allow her the kind of punch that would cave a skull in...
The ticklish sensation raced up Roisha's legs and speedily entered her brain, screaming for immediate removal of her feet from the offending strokes and teases, but her muscles were powerless to respond to the call, and the nerves in her feet sapped the strength from the rest of her body, using up her energy in fruitless struggles carefully drawn out by the ticklish frenzy taking place on her feet. And yet that wasn't the way to describe it; the tickling was ruthlessly disciplined. Each wolf-man seemed to have a different strategy or technique for tickling his assigned area of her foot. Some of them used the very tip of a claw and traced a random pattern, only making contact with a small portion of her skin with the claw, but letting them probe into the minute creases and curves. Others used the claw tip to engage in long strokes, scratching at the skin as if to chase away a persistent itch, yet her feet weren't itching; they just tickled like hell. Those sticks were unbearably precise, the small, extremely fine teeth at the end of each one - Roisha couldn't tell that they were actually finely crafted - stimulating the nerves precisely, able to attack the small vulnerable spots at the joint of her middle toe or along the sides of her feet. And yet still others crowded in...
Roisha howled relentlessly, her voice starting to give out on her, even the iron-willed soldier with the bellowing voice finding her ability to speak stolen by gales of debilitating laughter... There were at least fifteen wolf-men crowded around her feet. The large area of her soles let them all get their claws and sticks in, let them all take a turn at tickle torturing the hysterical Drow, making it so that no spot on her foot lacked an attendant stimulator. No, this ticklishness was not going to simply burn out under its own power; the strokes were too expertly done, the tickling spread out just enough. Roisha would have been indignant had she had the presence of mind to do so. But there was literally nothing left to her. The Drow's mind had not been able to recognize the tickling as an immediate threat until it was too late, and now reason was left far behind in the wake of ticklish laughter, Roisha's thoughts tumbling incoherently as she tried and failed to find something, anything, to think about or focus on besides the tickling. There just was no way to deal with this... no way to stop it, either.
Abruptly she remembered that they had asked her a question at the start. Her first response, to laugh, was horrifyingly ironic in hindsight. That must be what it was about. An interrogation. But that straw was the last Roisha was able to grasp, before her ability to reason out why this was happening lost its grip on that one last thread and was lost in the blizzard of laughter. Her chest was like a bellows, massive chest having come out of the cloth undergarments she'd been wearing, but the Drow hardly noticed, so concerned was she with the tickling. Only the tickling; everything was the tickling. Her feet couldn't move an inch, not even a twitch left or right as the multitude of ticklish tormenting tools fiendishly tortured the tender soles. No thought was given to how the wolf-men knew to employ this on her. Nor was any given to why a savage race like the wolf-men would choose tickling as their method of coercion. They were too good at it not to have done it many times before. Roisha realized she wasn't struggling at the pillar anymore, and this lapse in resistance should have angered her, but tickling left no room for something like that. Just... everything was tickling. She couldn't take it.
It wasn't that Roisha was trying to resist her interrogators. It was simply that she couldn't begin to think about answering while her feet were devilishly tormented so, the stroking of claws and the scratching of sticks and the whole thing covering the entirety of her huge, soft feet. Tickling torture pushed rationality and coherence out of her grasp, and the only thing that remained to her was laughter. Because of her frayed and distracted state of mind, the wolf-man who had addressed her from the first had to repeat his statement three times before she caught it just barely: "Rest time." Roisha managed to get through enough of her thought process to be certain that he was teasing her or in some other way seeking to trick her, so it was actually a surprise to her when the tickling did finally stop, the claws and sticks ceasing to torment her sensitive spots, and Roisha sobbed with relief. "Rest now," he repeated. "Drow no good if die of laugh." Before her experience, she would have dismissed that as hyperbole. Now, she wasn't so sure...
Her first instinct turned out to be right on. Her captors had a very different idea of what "rest" was than she did, and as the sticks and claws withdrew, small smooth stones came out instead, being rolled dexterously across her feet, teasing the already tormented flesh. The hysteria wasn't nearly so bad this time, not by a long shot, but it was just enough to stop this from being restful and to keep her on the edge of giggling and squirming. Still, the intensity had fallen enough for Roisha to start to pick up the shattered pieces of her mind and pull herself up to a functional level, somehow. Okay. The thrust of their scheme was pretty evident, and if they got her in an unthinking state another time and started asking questions, she might not even remember answering them. She managed to shut out the low-key but still ticklish feeling of those oddly smooth stones being rolled across her feet as the resilient Drow once again let herself consider the possibility of escape. The stone pillar had shifted more with her wild struggles, but the inefficiency of straining at her own muscles and the ropes as she had definitely left her in a weakened state. That was troublesome. More troublesome was how a few of the wolf-men decided that things were too quiet without her laughing and used his fingernail to sneak a few strokes in on the underside of her middle toe, something that made Roisha let loose a one-time burst of laughter before calming down again - and just as she had regained her normal breathing, he did it again. Roisha wanted to glare, but she suspected that would just invite yet more...
The stones departed abruptly. "Now tell. Where armies come from?" Roisha shook her head, though the refusal lacked the outright defiance of the first. The wolf-man shrugged and made a gesture, but instead of the dozen wolf-men returning, only four came, these with a pail held between them and a few horsehair brushes. Roisha quickly realized that whatever was in the bucket was going to go on her feet, but she couldn't tell what it was, aside from the fact that it was just viscous enough not to drip off of her feet due to gravity. It didn't tickle much of its own accord, and the brushes had their friction greatly reduced, so it was little more tickling than the stones had been. But they made very sure to cover all of her foot with it, leading Roisha to suspect there was definitely more to it than met the eye...
That something was made blatantly obvious when a few goats were led up and tethered near her feet. There was no subtlety to the animals' actions, nor was there any attempt to hide their purpose made by the wolf-men. Roisha's eyes went wide - and then she screamed as the assault of the goat tongues began, It was insanity.
Roisha's carefully rebuilt sense of awareness was obliterated with the first lick that send unbearable skittering ticklishness shooting through her nerves. Joined moments later by three other goat tongues, Roisha's feet exploded into an unbearable cacophony of ticklish torment, but her screams were masked by another noise, one that was unexpected - the sudden shout of alarm given by a sentry, followed immediately by the dull thudding of hundreds of charging Drow. The reaction of the wolf-men was rapid and planned; they immediately charged in the direction of the battle noises which were drifting over to the village... to a man they deserted her, leaving Roisha all alone with the four goats.
Roisha screamed, a combination of frustration, relief, and ticklishness, and the soldier in her devoutly wished she could watch the battle unfold, to be of some use, but her mind was dominated with the sound of clashing metal, yelling, shouting, grunting, Drowish voices yelling battle commands, and of course the tickling. She couldn't sort any of the jumble out, except for one particular piece of it, which she realized dimly was her own voice, screaming at her rescuers to go faster and save her from the goats... Roisha was helpless beyond that, able to do nothing but pray for the sounds of the battle to reach her so that Drow soldiers could see her and then chase off the goats and cut her free. They would win. Roisha just wanted them to win faster. The goats mindlessly continued to lick at her soles, driving her laughter to a screaming pitch again.
It was just as bad as it had been before, and she'd been brought to this point so much faster now, the rough goat tongues an absolutely unbearable torment on her soft soles, the gluttonous creatures willing to lick at her soles, lick and lick and lick some more to try and free the substance from her feet, but they were too dimwitted to realize that some of the smells were coming from the tops of her feet, and so their tongues roamed the soles searching for more of the salty treat, cleaning the same spots over and over and over again, tongues polishing Roisha's sensitive skin until the Drow general thought that she might scream her voice out. And still the battle continued... was it her imagination or were they coming closer? Fervently she prayed that they were... she wanted so much to believe that the sounds were coming towards her. But she knew that a battle was a tricky thing, that you could sometimes hear fighting a mile off and sometimes it seemed so distant but was right around the next corner...
Roisha yelled, summoning all her strength to cry for her soldiers, to draw their attention, and to her vast relief a few crashed through the surrounding forest growth to come within her field of vision. But before they could chase away the goats, the Drow soldiers were set upon by wolf-men, and in hand-to-hand fighting they slowly spread out through the village, her soldiers seeking to isolate and kill the remaining wolf-men one by one, but all of them were too busy fighting to help her. All of them! Roisha would have screamed again but her voice had left her, now; the ticklish screaming had finally taken its toll, and here she was, laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes, laughing so hard she thought she might pee herself, right in front of her soldiers... Roisha struggled at her bonds once again, but her muscles' strength was long gone, no longer able to support such an endeavor or shift the heavy pillar to which she was attached. Her own hysteria filled her mind to the exclusion of all else. Not even the battle could make inroads to her mind now, which was consumed with tickling, slowly drowning, the goats at least having the mercy not to know how to prolong her torment like the wolf-men had...
The Drow general returned to consciousness with a snap, realizing she was still bound when that sudden jerk didn't move her very far. But she was surrounded by her own soldiers, and sighed with relief. "Not..." she managed to croak. "Not a word of this... to anyone," she warned the squad of twenty that had managed to reach her. "Not a word. Understand?" She tried to project the usual iron into her voice, the commanding tone that made soldiers leap to obey, but the lieutenant got a grin on her face that Roisha did not like at all. "I said... do you understand me?"
The lieutenant smirked. "We understand perfectly."
