Celerich
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Apr 4, 2007
- Messages
- 135
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Hey, what's up peeps? I'm sorta a lurker, but i have been writing a non-tickle story for awhile, and it's gone good. However, being on this community as long as i have, i decided to contribute, and see if my writing is up to par for some good stories. Anywho, here's the start of mine.
(For the record, i DO have the past set up, but you're going to have to read the next few chapters to get a basic understanding. And, for the most part, it is a tickling story.)
Tickling. Why Tickling? Elinere had asked herself the question for some time now, and the answer never seemed to come. From what her mother had said, it had been this way for a good Seventy years. No one alive, save those whom stand high in the world, knows how it started. But, what is important, is that it DID start.
Seventy years ago, something happened, involving a war between the two nations of the world: Scythiri and Bauhn'Rim. Something else happened, where a man named Drikur'Thul captured the two female leaders, and tickled them. From what she remembered, it was done in truely horrible ways. And ever since then, tickling has replaced any form of violence. Elinere wished it was violent again. Anything to save her from this.
Elinere had been riding in a caravan, on her way to a local bar for some rest, when it happened. She was stupid enough to open her big mouth, and say a rather nasty comment about the way Scythirians live. And as soon as she finished, she found her ankles and wrists bound by the chains that hung, almost gruesomely, from the sides and ceiling, of the caravan. Now, she knew exactly what would happen.
"See, now, why did you have to go off and say things like that? You Bauhn'Rim folk can't keep your own damn opinions to yourself." The man "Escorting" her said. She opened her mouth, a clever retort well on it's way, when she quickly bit down again, feeling the soft bristles of a feather wiggling across her sole. She bit hard. It tickled more than she could have ever thought possible. But she knew why. One any person of any gender reached the age of Eighteen, they were initiated into adulthood through a new ritual, in which they were rubbed with a special oil, and the mystics would enchant the body, making it more susceptible to tickling. The last part of the Ritual involved painless tattoo-like runes to be place on the soles, palms, underarms, and stomach. At any time, a mystic could enchant the runes. No one knows what happens when they do.
Elinere lost her thoughts as her mouth was forced open with hard laughter, the feather now moving up her legs, and to her sides. She closed her eyes, laughing terribly loud, and managed only one word.
"Sorry"! And with that, the man stopped, and she was unshackled.
"Now, that's a load better love. And we're here. Out with you, out." The man shooed her away, and shut the caravan door. Elinere sighed, and stepped inside the tavern.
Note that this is only the beginning, and i wanted you all to get a feel for my style of writing before i went on. I also wish to be a hosted author, and would like to be evaluated for possible entry. Thanks for listening! Err..Reading. Whatever.
(For the record, i DO have the past set up, but you're going to have to read the next few chapters to get a basic understanding. And, for the most part, it is a tickling story.)
Tickling. Why Tickling? Elinere had asked herself the question for some time now, and the answer never seemed to come. From what her mother had said, it had been this way for a good Seventy years. No one alive, save those whom stand high in the world, knows how it started. But, what is important, is that it DID start.
Seventy years ago, something happened, involving a war between the two nations of the world: Scythiri and Bauhn'Rim. Something else happened, where a man named Drikur'Thul captured the two female leaders, and tickled them. From what she remembered, it was done in truely horrible ways. And ever since then, tickling has replaced any form of violence. Elinere wished it was violent again. Anything to save her from this.
Elinere had been riding in a caravan, on her way to a local bar for some rest, when it happened. She was stupid enough to open her big mouth, and say a rather nasty comment about the way Scythirians live. And as soon as she finished, she found her ankles and wrists bound by the chains that hung, almost gruesomely, from the sides and ceiling, of the caravan. Now, she knew exactly what would happen.
"See, now, why did you have to go off and say things like that? You Bauhn'Rim folk can't keep your own damn opinions to yourself." The man "Escorting" her said. She opened her mouth, a clever retort well on it's way, when she quickly bit down again, feeling the soft bristles of a feather wiggling across her sole. She bit hard. It tickled more than she could have ever thought possible. But she knew why. One any person of any gender reached the age of Eighteen, they were initiated into adulthood through a new ritual, in which they were rubbed with a special oil, and the mystics would enchant the body, making it more susceptible to tickling. The last part of the Ritual involved painless tattoo-like runes to be place on the soles, palms, underarms, and stomach. At any time, a mystic could enchant the runes. No one knows what happens when they do.
Elinere lost her thoughts as her mouth was forced open with hard laughter, the feather now moving up her legs, and to her sides. She closed her eyes, laughing terribly loud, and managed only one word.
"Sorry"! And with that, the man stopped, and she was unshackled.
"Now, that's a load better love. And we're here. Out with you, out." The man shooed her away, and shut the caravan door. Elinere sighed, and stepped inside the tavern.
Note that this is only the beginning, and i wanted you all to get a feel for my style of writing before i went on. I also wish to be a hosted author, and would like to be evaluated for possible entry. Thanks for listening! Err..Reading. Whatever.
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