UnderscoreEleven
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Hi everyone. This is my first story.
I think it should technically be */f, but the entity in question takes the form of a human woman, so f/f makes more sense to me.
Hope you like it.
Bethany threaded softly through the trees, shivering slightly as a breath of air tugged at her clothing and raised goosebumps on her bare arms. Outside the confines of these looming trees, she knew, it was a bright summer's day – but the dense cluster of branches overhead barred access to all but a few stray sunbeams, leaving the forest permanently bathed in twilight. Something rustled in the undergrowth. Bethany froze, waited – and then, when the noise did not recur, crept slowly on.
This was not where she'd expected to find herself this morning. It was not where she had ever expected to find herself. She had simply been daydreaming, and had wandered off the path. There was only one path through the forest – it had been carved out over a hundred years ago, and was bordered on either side with warding stones that kept any and all supernatural entities at bay. The path meant safety; but wide acres of untamed forest stretched out on either side of it, and no-one knew for certain what might lie within its depths.
All the stories she had heard came flooding back to her, the moment she had woken from her daydream and found herself completely lost, unsure even which direction she had come from. She cursed herself for her complacency. For all its ancient magic, the forest lay only a few miles from the city, where the noise of cars and televisions made people forgetful of the dangers that still lurked in the forgotten corners of the world. Those dangers seemed all too real to her now.
She walked at random, searching for a way out, carefully treading down the knee-high brambles and watching out for sudden pitfalls. She was thankful that she happened to be wearing, not her regular trainers, but a pair of sturdy walking shoes – aside from this, however, she was not in any way dressed for the occasion. She had been cutting through the forest on her way home from a short stay at her aunt's house, and she wore only a thin, short-sleeved T-shirt, together with a frilly black skirt that stopped halfway to her knees. Her long black socks in some degree protected her from any stinging plants that might lurk in the tangle of the undergrowth, but she still felt worryingly exposed.
A noise behind her made her turn – and she found herself face-to-face with something out of a nightmare. A great slavering creature, twice her height, with a stunted snout and enormous, gleaming teeth. How had such a thing snuck up on her so silently? Then she saw that its body was semi-transparent, and she knew what she was looking at. She had seen it depicted in a thousand children's stories. A phantom wolf. Paralyzed with fear, she could do nothing but gape as the beast lunged in for the kill.
Suddenly a strange blue radiance burst into life, surrounding her on all sides. The creature recoiled, while Bethany's whole body tingled as though charged with static. The wolf gathered strength and made another lunge, only to be stuck by a bright blue bolt of energy, issuing from some unknown source, which sent it yelping into the trees.
The blue light faded gradually, and Bethany turned around to see, standing behind her, a young woman. She looked to be in her early twenties; she had long, dark hair that fell straight down to her shoulders; and she was (Bethany blushed and tried hard not to stare) completely naked.
"Are you… are you a dryad?" she stammered.
The woman snorted. "Please. Those stuck-up bitches? Don't insult me." The informality took Bethany by surprise. She had expected something a little more… mystical.
"Wh-what are you?" she asked, still spellbound by the stranger's beauty.
"My name's Alix," came the answer. "I'm a sprite."
That broke the spell. Bethany stepped back in alarm. Sprites meant trouble. "Th-thank you for saving me. I have to go." She forced herself to tear her gaze away and struck out in a random direction.
"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," the sprite called after her. Bethany ignored it and increased her pace. The stories about sprites were even worse than the stories about phantom wolves. The wolves were mindless brutes, but sprites were pure evil.
As she tramped on through the sprawling vegetation, climbing over roots and fallen branches – no longer trying to tread quietly, no longer concerned about tearing her clothes, but focused entirely on putting distance between the sprite and her – the trees began to thin out, the twilight gloom giving way gradually to soft daylight. Hope blossomed in her chest, only to give rise to a fresh wave of despair as she broke through into a clearing. The sun was beaming down from a circle of blue sky, but the forest still entrapped her on every side.
A single tree stood at the centre of the clearing. She wondered about climbing it – perhaps she could get a better view of her surroundings. At any rate, she resolved to rest here for a while. The warmth of the sun on her skin made a pleasant change from the chill twilight, and there was nothing growing underfoot here but a thick, springy moss, which gave Bethany almost the impression of walking on a mattress. And something about the whole area felt… safe.
That illusion was abruptly shattered as Alix stepped out from behind the central tree. "I did warn you," she said. "Now you're in my home. You're trespassing."
Startled, Bethany blurted out a brief apology and fled. She reached the safety of the treeline and kept on running – only to emerge once more into the clearing. Alix stood before her, watching patiently, arms folded lightly across her chest. Bethany's momentum carried her halfway toward the waiting sprite before she managed to pull up. She must have gotten turned around somehow – but that was impossible. Some powerful magic must be at work.
"This is an enchanted glade," said Alix. "Nothing gets in or out without my say so."
"Please, I'm – I'm sorry for trespassing." Bethany's voice trembled, and not only from fear. The glorious perfection of the sprite's naked body sent involuntary ripples of excitement coursing through her. Of course it was only an illusion – the sprite had no real body of its own, and was only temporarily assuming human form – but knowing this did nothing to dampen Bethany's arousal.
The sprite uncrossed her arms and approached her nervous visitor, walking round her in a circle as if sizing her up from every angle. "Why are you afraid of me?" she asked.
Blushing hard at the inspection, Bethany was unsure how to answer. She didn't want to cause offence, but something in the other's tone demanded honesty. "You're a sprite," she said. "Sprites are… evil."
Alix rolled her eyes. "That's a sweeping generalization. There's lots of different kinds of sprite, you know. Some of them are evil. Lantern sprites, for instance. Burrow sprites. Death's-head sprites. They're the ones you want to watch out for. Others, though, are more what you might call… friendly but mischievous. Jump sprites only want to scare people. Magpie sprites abscond with shiny objects. Trip sprites tie your shoelaces together. There's even a kind of sprite that just throws nuts at you."
"Which… which type are you?"
"Me?" Putting on a casual air, Alix brought a hand up to the level of her face and scrutinized her long, sharp fingernails. "I'm a tickle sprite."
The words had an electrical effect on Bethany. For years now, she had been conscious of an urgent craving deep inside her, a craving that grew stronger with every passing day. It was something she had never shared with anyone, a yearning that was never satisfied except in her most secret fantasies. Any accidental touch against her side, or the slightest touch of grass against her feet, would set her heart pounding and throw her thoughts into complete confusion. She was monstrously ticklish – her friends knew this, and took full advantage, but they always stopped before things got really interesting. Occasional play-fights only made her hungrier for more – and now, as she gazed at Alix's teasing expression, she wondered if she had finally got her wish.
Then all thought was blotted out as Alix seized her round the waist and drove four wriggling fingers into her side.
"Nahahahahahahastaahp!" she shrieked, already writhing helplessly in her tormentor's grip.
"Well, well, well," teased Alix. "You are a ticklish one, aren't you?" She had one arm wrapped around Bethany's waist, pressing her victim's body against her chest, while the other hand attacked her ribs. "Cootchie-cootchie-coo…" Bethany squirmed and stamped her feet, unable to repress her wild laughter. Finally managing to find some leverage, she broke loose and launched herself across the clearing.
Her freedom was short-lived. Weakened by the tickling, she didn't make it more than a few paces before her knees gave way. The thick carpet of moss received her gently – but now Alix was on top of her, straddling her thighs. She rolled Bethany onto her back and took hold of her wrists, then grinned down at her captive. "That was just a warm-up. You ready for this?"
"No!" squeaked Bethany. That was a lie. That first little tussle had set her loins burning with desire. She was more than ready. Her whole body ached for the punishment she knew was coming.
"Where to begin?" crooned Alix. "I think… here." Bethany's shirt had ridden up above her navel, exposing her bare midriff – and now Alix's fingers descended on this chink in her armour, squeezing and tickling the smooth, defenceless flesh.
"Aahahahahahahahanooohoho!" Bethany tried to fight back against the onslaught, but her flailing arms made contact with nothing but the empty air. Alix's body – which had felt solid enough when she was pressed against it – now seemed to have become partly incorporeal. She still felt Alix's weight pinning her down, still felt the warmth of the sprite's thighs against hers, and she definitely felt those tormenting fingers – but whenever she tried to snatch hold of Alix's arms, her hands just passed right through.
"Such a ticklish little tummy – but let's try a little higher up, shall we?"
"Oh no pleeeheheheheeeese!" Her body jerked in a frantic effort to escape as Alix's hands slipped under her shirt and began to crawl up and down her ribs. "Nononahahahahahaha!"
"You know something?" said Alix. "I think you're the most ticklish little cutie I've ever have the pleasure of tickling. And coming from a tickle sprite, that's saying something." Alix's constant repetition of the T-word was only making Bethany hornier – and more sensitive. And now Alix sped up her attack, no longer concentrating on the ribs but letting her fingers dart freely over her victim's upper body.
"Neeeeeeeehahahahahahahastaahp!" This was worse than anything her friends had ever done to her. It wasn't just the nails – Alix had technique. Her fingers moved rapidly from one spot to the next, and there was no discernable pattern to her movements, no way for the squirming girl to guess where she'd be tickled next. One hand would spider up her ribs, then jump down to squeeze her waist, slide up along her spine to reach her shoulder-blades, then swipe across her chest, all in the space of a single breath – while the other hand was doing something completely different. It was hard to believe that only a single pair of hands could do such damage.
"Yep, it's official," laughed Alix. "You are the most ticklish person I have ever met. How can you even stand this?"
Bethany wasn't sure she could stand it much longer. Not only the tickling, but the intensity of her arousal – both were becoming more and more unbearable. She began to be thankful that Alix was avoiding the one spot she most dreaded, longed, to be tickled – the hollows of her underarms. One thing she had learned from tickle-fights with friends was that these hollows were insanely sensitive. She was already suffering a little from the fact that her sleeves had become bunched up around her shoulders, and in her desperate effort to keep her arms clamped firmly to her sides, she had managed to get much of the material wadded up inside her armpits. This tickled – but it also formed a barrier against any attempted assault from Alix.
That was a small mercy. The rest of her body was sensitive enough – and now, just as she was getting used to the random pattern, all ten fingers suddenly clamped down on a certain spot just below her ribs.
"Eeeeeeeyahahahaha!" Bethany's back arched, and her legs jerked so violently that she almost managed to pull herself free. Almost, but not quite.
"No escape," said Alix, grinning wickedly.
The fingers kept on squeezing, and Bethany's laughter faded out into a silent rictus. As her breath began to fail, it occurred to her that Alix hadn't quite explained whether or not tickle sprites were evil. The thought of being tickled literally to death didn't worry her so much – she couldn't think of a better way to go. Only… not yet. Not yet. The fire in her loins was burning for release. She couldn't bear the thought of dying without… without…
It took her a few moments to realize the tickling had stopped. She found herself gulping down lungfuls of air between the spasms of silent laughter that still shook her.
"You okay, sweetie?" Alix's brown eyes sparkled with mischief as she smiled down on Bethany, like an artist admiring her handiwork. Bethany felt a sudden rush of affection for her torturer. "Please…" she spluttered brokenly. "Please…"
"Please what, cutie pie? You want more?" Alix traced a curving line down Bethany's midriff, then swiped sideways along the waistline of her skirt. Bethany bucked as though electrocuted. "Yes!" she moaned. "Oh, yes…"
"Why don't you get a little breath back first?"
For the next few minutes, Alix continued caressing Bethany's waist, giving her time to recover her breath but without letting the fire die down for a moment. "Now then," she said, "where shall we tickle next?"
"Oh no, no more tickling!" gasped Bethany. "Just… just…"
"I know," said Alix soothingly, stroking her victim's arm with every appearance of genuine compassion. "I know exactly what you need. But I'm in charge here. I say when we're done." Her kindly expression was broken by a crooked smile. "And I say we won't be done until I've tracked down all your weak spots."
Bethany's eyes widened, and she clutched her arms more tightly to her chest. Not my underarms! She almost spoke the words out loud, but choked them back just in time. No sense in giving herself away – and as it turned out, Alix had other ideas. Executing a quick one-eighty spin, she settled herself on Bethany's calves and took a firm hold of her left ankle.
"Not my feet!" This time she couldn't stop herself – the words burst out of her the moment she felt those long fingers close around her ankle. "Why not, honey?" asked Alix tauntingly, while with her free hand she began unravelling Bethany's shoelaces.
"Because…" What could she say? Because I'm hornier than I've ever been in my entire life, and being tickled there will only make me hornier? Somehow she sensed that would be the wrong answer. "Because… because they're not ticklish!"
"Oh, really?" Alix pretended to be deep in thought. "Well, if your feet aren't ticklish, then I guess I won't tickle them. But you don't mind if I just check for myself." She eased the shoe off Bethany's foot. In her state of heightened sensitivity, this sudden exposure to the cool air made her flinch and curl her toes. Her knee socks offered scant protection from the elements. They were made more for style than for warmth, and certainly wouldn't offer a shred of defence against a probing finger.
"Such a pretty little foot," said Alix. "Such a shame it isn't ticklish." She turned her head to look Bethany sternly in the eye. "You did say your feet aren't ticklish, didn't you?"
"Y-yes," whimpered Bethany. She knew where this was going, and there was nothing she could do about it.
"That's what I thought you said. I do hope you aren't lying to me." Letting go of Bethany's ankle, she took hold of her toes instead, bending them back to keep her foot from flexing. This squeezing of her toes caused a bubble of laughter to rise up in her throat – she forced it back and clenched her mouth tight shut.
"So then," said Alix, "if I do this…" She ran a single nail down the arch of Bethany's foot.
Bethany screeched and then exploded into laughter. She couldn't fight it. The arousal, the anticipation, the teasing, and her total helplessness, had all combined to make her feet more ticklish than they had ever been. That single touch had broken her.
Alix didn't give her a moment to recover. The finger changed direction, sweeping upwards from her heel back towards her toes. "Time to tell the truth, honeybun. Does this tickle?"
"Yeheheheheesss!" squealed Bethany. "Ohgodsyes, it ti-ti-tahahahahahhelp!"
"So you lied to me," said Alix, with another slow stroke towards her heel. "Do you know the penalty for lying to a tickle sprite?" Suddenly Bethany felt her sock removed – and now four razor-sharp nails were skipping lightly up and down her sole. "Yep, you guessed it. Tickle tickle tickle!"
Bethany convulsed with laughter, clawing at the ground. The lightness of the touch only made the torment all the more unbearable. She was teetering on the very edge of orgasm. If Alix's nails had dug in just a little, that might have been enough to set her off – but these delicate, tantalizing tickles offered no relief; they only stoked the fire even further. She couldn't take it any more. With a desperate access of willpower, she brought her thrashing limbs under control and tried to thrust a hand inside her skirt.
Instantly, Alix reached round and grabbed hold of her wrist. "Naughty girl," she scolded. "I say when we're done, remember?"
"Please, Alix… Please…" Bethany locked eyes with her tormentor, trying to make her understand. She knew there was a spark of mercy in there somewhere. If the sprite only knew what she was doing to her…
Something seemed to get across. Alix's expression grew softer. "Well, alright," she said. "Since you ask so nicely. Let's try another spot, shall we?" She turned herself around, still straddling Bethany's calves, and placed a hand on each of her bare legs, just above the knee. "I wonder… are you ticklish up here?" She began to slide her hands slowly, slowly, up towards Bethany's thighs.
"Yes yes yes!" squeaked Bethany, every muscle in her body tensing with anticipation.
"How ticklish?" asked Alix tauntingly, her hands creeping ever higher.
"So– So ticklish!" Alix's fingers were touching the hem of her skirt. She was close. Achingly close.
"I see you've learnt your lesson about lying to a tickle sprite," said Alix. "But… do you know what happens when you tell a tickle sprite how ticklish you are?"
Bethany let out an inarticulate moan.
"You get… tickled!" Alix leaned forward – and plunged her hands into Bethany's underarms.
"Nahaha not theeeeheheherehahaha!" This sudden denial of all her hopes was a torture more acute than anything Bethany could have imagined – more torturous even than this ticklish assault on her most ticklish spot. She pressed her arms against her sides, but Alix's long nails wormed deep into the sensitive hollows of her underarms, wriggling furiously.
"Nohohohohopleeheheheheeese!"
And then – it seemed Alix really did have a spark of mercy in her. One hand withdrew, and Bethany experienced a jolt of unimaginable pleasure as four soft fingertips and one thumb came into contact with the bare skin of her upper thigh and squeezed.
Waves of ecstasy shot through her. The climax seemed to last longer than she had ever thought possible – and all the while, one of Alix's hands remained trapped inside her underarm, while the other kept a tight hold of her thigh and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. This is the end, thought Bethany. I'm going to die here. She didn't have a single regret. She was already in paradise.
But as her breath began to fail, as the last few spasms shook her body, the tickling gradually eased off. The nails scratching at her underarm grew still, and the squeezes turned into gentle caresses. Gasping with silent laughter, Bethany shot a look of pure gratitude at her tormentor, and then blissfully passed out.
***
When she awoke, she found herself lying on her side at the edge of the forest. Before her, a wide expanse of grass rolled down a gentle slope – beyond it lay the road, and the outskirts of the city. She sat up weakly, taking stock. Her hand touched something by her side – it was her left shoe, with the sock tucked neatly inside of it. She smiled and put it on. Her body still hummed with pleasure. With one last look at the brooding trees, she staggered to her feet and set off down the hillside.
Perched in a treetop, one leg dangling, Alix watched her erstwhile victim's departure with mixed feelings. Something about that girl was stirring strange emotions in her breast. Satisfying her had been even more enjoyable, somehow, than tormenting her. It wasn't uncommon for Alix's victims to be turned on by her ministrations, and it was her favourite trick to bring them to the very height of expectation only to deny them, leaving them stewing in frustration. She had intended to treat her latest victim the same way – but at the last moment, she had taken pity on her. That was unusual. And now, the thought that she might never see Bethany again was causing her sharp pangs of sorrow. That was even more unusual.
This required further investigation. There was, after all, no particular reason why she couldn't leave the forest. A short city break might do her good. Perhaps her new friend would like a roommate.
Turning herself invisible, she dropped lightly to the ground and began following her victim home.
I think it should technically be */f, but the entity in question takes the form of a human woman, so f/f makes more sense to me.
Hope you like it.
Bethany threaded softly through the trees, shivering slightly as a breath of air tugged at her clothing and raised goosebumps on her bare arms. Outside the confines of these looming trees, she knew, it was a bright summer's day – but the dense cluster of branches overhead barred access to all but a few stray sunbeams, leaving the forest permanently bathed in twilight. Something rustled in the undergrowth. Bethany froze, waited – and then, when the noise did not recur, crept slowly on.
This was not where she'd expected to find herself this morning. It was not where she had ever expected to find herself. She had simply been daydreaming, and had wandered off the path. There was only one path through the forest – it had been carved out over a hundred years ago, and was bordered on either side with warding stones that kept any and all supernatural entities at bay. The path meant safety; but wide acres of untamed forest stretched out on either side of it, and no-one knew for certain what might lie within its depths.
All the stories she had heard came flooding back to her, the moment she had woken from her daydream and found herself completely lost, unsure even which direction she had come from. She cursed herself for her complacency. For all its ancient magic, the forest lay only a few miles from the city, where the noise of cars and televisions made people forgetful of the dangers that still lurked in the forgotten corners of the world. Those dangers seemed all too real to her now.
She walked at random, searching for a way out, carefully treading down the knee-high brambles and watching out for sudden pitfalls. She was thankful that she happened to be wearing, not her regular trainers, but a pair of sturdy walking shoes – aside from this, however, she was not in any way dressed for the occasion. She had been cutting through the forest on her way home from a short stay at her aunt's house, and she wore only a thin, short-sleeved T-shirt, together with a frilly black skirt that stopped halfway to her knees. Her long black socks in some degree protected her from any stinging plants that might lurk in the tangle of the undergrowth, but she still felt worryingly exposed.
A noise behind her made her turn – and she found herself face-to-face with something out of a nightmare. A great slavering creature, twice her height, with a stunted snout and enormous, gleaming teeth. How had such a thing snuck up on her so silently? Then she saw that its body was semi-transparent, and she knew what she was looking at. She had seen it depicted in a thousand children's stories. A phantom wolf. Paralyzed with fear, she could do nothing but gape as the beast lunged in for the kill.
Suddenly a strange blue radiance burst into life, surrounding her on all sides. The creature recoiled, while Bethany's whole body tingled as though charged with static. The wolf gathered strength and made another lunge, only to be stuck by a bright blue bolt of energy, issuing from some unknown source, which sent it yelping into the trees.
The blue light faded gradually, and Bethany turned around to see, standing behind her, a young woman. She looked to be in her early twenties; she had long, dark hair that fell straight down to her shoulders; and she was (Bethany blushed and tried hard not to stare) completely naked.
"Are you… are you a dryad?" she stammered.
The woman snorted. "Please. Those stuck-up bitches? Don't insult me." The informality took Bethany by surprise. She had expected something a little more… mystical.
"Wh-what are you?" she asked, still spellbound by the stranger's beauty.
"My name's Alix," came the answer. "I'm a sprite."
That broke the spell. Bethany stepped back in alarm. Sprites meant trouble. "Th-thank you for saving me. I have to go." She forced herself to tear her gaze away and struck out in a random direction.
"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," the sprite called after her. Bethany ignored it and increased her pace. The stories about sprites were even worse than the stories about phantom wolves. The wolves were mindless brutes, but sprites were pure evil.
As she tramped on through the sprawling vegetation, climbing over roots and fallen branches – no longer trying to tread quietly, no longer concerned about tearing her clothes, but focused entirely on putting distance between the sprite and her – the trees began to thin out, the twilight gloom giving way gradually to soft daylight. Hope blossomed in her chest, only to give rise to a fresh wave of despair as she broke through into a clearing. The sun was beaming down from a circle of blue sky, but the forest still entrapped her on every side.
A single tree stood at the centre of the clearing. She wondered about climbing it – perhaps she could get a better view of her surroundings. At any rate, she resolved to rest here for a while. The warmth of the sun on her skin made a pleasant change from the chill twilight, and there was nothing growing underfoot here but a thick, springy moss, which gave Bethany almost the impression of walking on a mattress. And something about the whole area felt… safe.
That illusion was abruptly shattered as Alix stepped out from behind the central tree. "I did warn you," she said. "Now you're in my home. You're trespassing."
Startled, Bethany blurted out a brief apology and fled. She reached the safety of the treeline and kept on running – only to emerge once more into the clearing. Alix stood before her, watching patiently, arms folded lightly across her chest. Bethany's momentum carried her halfway toward the waiting sprite before she managed to pull up. She must have gotten turned around somehow – but that was impossible. Some powerful magic must be at work.
"This is an enchanted glade," said Alix. "Nothing gets in or out without my say so."
"Please, I'm – I'm sorry for trespassing." Bethany's voice trembled, and not only from fear. The glorious perfection of the sprite's naked body sent involuntary ripples of excitement coursing through her. Of course it was only an illusion – the sprite had no real body of its own, and was only temporarily assuming human form – but knowing this did nothing to dampen Bethany's arousal.
The sprite uncrossed her arms and approached her nervous visitor, walking round her in a circle as if sizing her up from every angle. "Why are you afraid of me?" she asked.
Blushing hard at the inspection, Bethany was unsure how to answer. She didn't want to cause offence, but something in the other's tone demanded honesty. "You're a sprite," she said. "Sprites are… evil."
Alix rolled her eyes. "That's a sweeping generalization. There's lots of different kinds of sprite, you know. Some of them are evil. Lantern sprites, for instance. Burrow sprites. Death's-head sprites. They're the ones you want to watch out for. Others, though, are more what you might call… friendly but mischievous. Jump sprites only want to scare people. Magpie sprites abscond with shiny objects. Trip sprites tie your shoelaces together. There's even a kind of sprite that just throws nuts at you."
"Which… which type are you?"
"Me?" Putting on a casual air, Alix brought a hand up to the level of her face and scrutinized her long, sharp fingernails. "I'm a tickle sprite."
The words had an electrical effect on Bethany. For years now, she had been conscious of an urgent craving deep inside her, a craving that grew stronger with every passing day. It was something she had never shared with anyone, a yearning that was never satisfied except in her most secret fantasies. Any accidental touch against her side, or the slightest touch of grass against her feet, would set her heart pounding and throw her thoughts into complete confusion. She was monstrously ticklish – her friends knew this, and took full advantage, but they always stopped before things got really interesting. Occasional play-fights only made her hungrier for more – and now, as she gazed at Alix's teasing expression, she wondered if she had finally got her wish.
Then all thought was blotted out as Alix seized her round the waist and drove four wriggling fingers into her side.
"Nahahahahahahastaahp!" she shrieked, already writhing helplessly in her tormentor's grip.
"Well, well, well," teased Alix. "You are a ticklish one, aren't you?" She had one arm wrapped around Bethany's waist, pressing her victim's body against her chest, while the other hand attacked her ribs. "Cootchie-cootchie-coo…" Bethany squirmed and stamped her feet, unable to repress her wild laughter. Finally managing to find some leverage, she broke loose and launched herself across the clearing.
Her freedom was short-lived. Weakened by the tickling, she didn't make it more than a few paces before her knees gave way. The thick carpet of moss received her gently – but now Alix was on top of her, straddling her thighs. She rolled Bethany onto her back and took hold of her wrists, then grinned down at her captive. "That was just a warm-up. You ready for this?"
"No!" squeaked Bethany. That was a lie. That first little tussle had set her loins burning with desire. She was more than ready. Her whole body ached for the punishment she knew was coming.
"Where to begin?" crooned Alix. "I think… here." Bethany's shirt had ridden up above her navel, exposing her bare midriff – and now Alix's fingers descended on this chink in her armour, squeezing and tickling the smooth, defenceless flesh.
"Aahahahahahahahanooohoho!" Bethany tried to fight back against the onslaught, but her flailing arms made contact with nothing but the empty air. Alix's body – which had felt solid enough when she was pressed against it – now seemed to have become partly incorporeal. She still felt Alix's weight pinning her down, still felt the warmth of the sprite's thighs against hers, and she definitely felt those tormenting fingers – but whenever she tried to snatch hold of Alix's arms, her hands just passed right through.
"Such a ticklish little tummy – but let's try a little higher up, shall we?"
"Oh no pleeeheheheheeeese!" Her body jerked in a frantic effort to escape as Alix's hands slipped under her shirt and began to crawl up and down her ribs. "Nononahahahahahaha!"
"You know something?" said Alix. "I think you're the most ticklish little cutie I've ever have the pleasure of tickling. And coming from a tickle sprite, that's saying something." Alix's constant repetition of the T-word was only making Bethany hornier – and more sensitive. And now Alix sped up her attack, no longer concentrating on the ribs but letting her fingers dart freely over her victim's upper body.
"Neeeeeeeehahahahahahahastaahp!" This was worse than anything her friends had ever done to her. It wasn't just the nails – Alix had technique. Her fingers moved rapidly from one spot to the next, and there was no discernable pattern to her movements, no way for the squirming girl to guess where she'd be tickled next. One hand would spider up her ribs, then jump down to squeeze her waist, slide up along her spine to reach her shoulder-blades, then swipe across her chest, all in the space of a single breath – while the other hand was doing something completely different. It was hard to believe that only a single pair of hands could do such damage.
"Yep, it's official," laughed Alix. "You are the most ticklish person I have ever met. How can you even stand this?"
Bethany wasn't sure she could stand it much longer. Not only the tickling, but the intensity of her arousal – both were becoming more and more unbearable. She began to be thankful that Alix was avoiding the one spot she most dreaded, longed, to be tickled – the hollows of her underarms. One thing she had learned from tickle-fights with friends was that these hollows were insanely sensitive. She was already suffering a little from the fact that her sleeves had become bunched up around her shoulders, and in her desperate effort to keep her arms clamped firmly to her sides, she had managed to get much of the material wadded up inside her armpits. This tickled – but it also formed a barrier against any attempted assault from Alix.
That was a small mercy. The rest of her body was sensitive enough – and now, just as she was getting used to the random pattern, all ten fingers suddenly clamped down on a certain spot just below her ribs.
"Eeeeeeeyahahahaha!" Bethany's back arched, and her legs jerked so violently that she almost managed to pull herself free. Almost, but not quite.
"No escape," said Alix, grinning wickedly.
The fingers kept on squeezing, and Bethany's laughter faded out into a silent rictus. As her breath began to fail, it occurred to her that Alix hadn't quite explained whether or not tickle sprites were evil. The thought of being tickled literally to death didn't worry her so much – she couldn't think of a better way to go. Only… not yet. Not yet. The fire in her loins was burning for release. She couldn't bear the thought of dying without… without…
It took her a few moments to realize the tickling had stopped. She found herself gulping down lungfuls of air between the spasms of silent laughter that still shook her.
"You okay, sweetie?" Alix's brown eyes sparkled with mischief as she smiled down on Bethany, like an artist admiring her handiwork. Bethany felt a sudden rush of affection for her torturer. "Please…" she spluttered brokenly. "Please…"
"Please what, cutie pie? You want more?" Alix traced a curving line down Bethany's midriff, then swiped sideways along the waistline of her skirt. Bethany bucked as though electrocuted. "Yes!" she moaned. "Oh, yes…"
"Why don't you get a little breath back first?"
For the next few minutes, Alix continued caressing Bethany's waist, giving her time to recover her breath but without letting the fire die down for a moment. "Now then," she said, "where shall we tickle next?"
"Oh no, no more tickling!" gasped Bethany. "Just… just…"
"I know," said Alix soothingly, stroking her victim's arm with every appearance of genuine compassion. "I know exactly what you need. But I'm in charge here. I say when we're done." Her kindly expression was broken by a crooked smile. "And I say we won't be done until I've tracked down all your weak spots."
Bethany's eyes widened, and she clutched her arms more tightly to her chest. Not my underarms! She almost spoke the words out loud, but choked them back just in time. No sense in giving herself away – and as it turned out, Alix had other ideas. Executing a quick one-eighty spin, she settled herself on Bethany's calves and took a firm hold of her left ankle.
"Not my feet!" This time she couldn't stop herself – the words burst out of her the moment she felt those long fingers close around her ankle. "Why not, honey?" asked Alix tauntingly, while with her free hand she began unravelling Bethany's shoelaces.
"Because…" What could she say? Because I'm hornier than I've ever been in my entire life, and being tickled there will only make me hornier? Somehow she sensed that would be the wrong answer. "Because… because they're not ticklish!"
"Oh, really?" Alix pretended to be deep in thought. "Well, if your feet aren't ticklish, then I guess I won't tickle them. But you don't mind if I just check for myself." She eased the shoe off Bethany's foot. In her state of heightened sensitivity, this sudden exposure to the cool air made her flinch and curl her toes. Her knee socks offered scant protection from the elements. They were made more for style than for warmth, and certainly wouldn't offer a shred of defence against a probing finger.
"Such a pretty little foot," said Alix. "Such a shame it isn't ticklish." She turned her head to look Bethany sternly in the eye. "You did say your feet aren't ticklish, didn't you?"
"Y-yes," whimpered Bethany. She knew where this was going, and there was nothing she could do about it.
"That's what I thought you said. I do hope you aren't lying to me." Letting go of Bethany's ankle, she took hold of her toes instead, bending them back to keep her foot from flexing. This squeezing of her toes caused a bubble of laughter to rise up in her throat – she forced it back and clenched her mouth tight shut.
"So then," said Alix, "if I do this…" She ran a single nail down the arch of Bethany's foot.
Bethany screeched and then exploded into laughter. She couldn't fight it. The arousal, the anticipation, the teasing, and her total helplessness, had all combined to make her feet more ticklish than they had ever been. That single touch had broken her.
Alix didn't give her a moment to recover. The finger changed direction, sweeping upwards from her heel back towards her toes. "Time to tell the truth, honeybun. Does this tickle?"
"Yeheheheheesss!" squealed Bethany. "Ohgodsyes, it ti-ti-tahahahahahhelp!"
"So you lied to me," said Alix, with another slow stroke towards her heel. "Do you know the penalty for lying to a tickle sprite?" Suddenly Bethany felt her sock removed – and now four razor-sharp nails were skipping lightly up and down her sole. "Yep, you guessed it. Tickle tickle tickle!"
Bethany convulsed with laughter, clawing at the ground. The lightness of the touch only made the torment all the more unbearable. She was teetering on the very edge of orgasm. If Alix's nails had dug in just a little, that might have been enough to set her off – but these delicate, tantalizing tickles offered no relief; they only stoked the fire even further. She couldn't take it any more. With a desperate access of willpower, she brought her thrashing limbs under control and tried to thrust a hand inside her skirt.
Instantly, Alix reached round and grabbed hold of her wrist. "Naughty girl," she scolded. "I say when we're done, remember?"
"Please, Alix… Please…" Bethany locked eyes with her tormentor, trying to make her understand. She knew there was a spark of mercy in there somewhere. If the sprite only knew what she was doing to her…
Something seemed to get across. Alix's expression grew softer. "Well, alright," she said. "Since you ask so nicely. Let's try another spot, shall we?" She turned herself around, still straddling Bethany's calves, and placed a hand on each of her bare legs, just above the knee. "I wonder… are you ticklish up here?" She began to slide her hands slowly, slowly, up towards Bethany's thighs.
"Yes yes yes!" squeaked Bethany, every muscle in her body tensing with anticipation.
"How ticklish?" asked Alix tauntingly, her hands creeping ever higher.
"So– So ticklish!" Alix's fingers were touching the hem of her skirt. She was close. Achingly close.
"I see you've learnt your lesson about lying to a tickle sprite," said Alix. "But… do you know what happens when you tell a tickle sprite how ticklish you are?"
Bethany let out an inarticulate moan.
"You get… tickled!" Alix leaned forward – and plunged her hands into Bethany's underarms.
"Nahaha not theeeeheheherehahaha!" This sudden denial of all her hopes was a torture more acute than anything Bethany could have imagined – more torturous even than this ticklish assault on her most ticklish spot. She pressed her arms against her sides, but Alix's long nails wormed deep into the sensitive hollows of her underarms, wriggling furiously.
"Nohohohohopleeheheheheeese!"
And then – it seemed Alix really did have a spark of mercy in her. One hand withdrew, and Bethany experienced a jolt of unimaginable pleasure as four soft fingertips and one thumb came into contact with the bare skin of her upper thigh and squeezed.
Waves of ecstasy shot through her. The climax seemed to last longer than she had ever thought possible – and all the while, one of Alix's hands remained trapped inside her underarm, while the other kept a tight hold of her thigh and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. This is the end, thought Bethany. I'm going to die here. She didn't have a single regret. She was already in paradise.
But as her breath began to fail, as the last few spasms shook her body, the tickling gradually eased off. The nails scratching at her underarm grew still, and the squeezes turned into gentle caresses. Gasping with silent laughter, Bethany shot a look of pure gratitude at her tormentor, and then blissfully passed out.
***
When she awoke, she found herself lying on her side at the edge of the forest. Before her, a wide expanse of grass rolled down a gentle slope – beyond it lay the road, and the outskirts of the city. She sat up weakly, taking stock. Her hand touched something by her side – it was her left shoe, with the sock tucked neatly inside of it. She smiled and put it on. Her body still hummed with pleasure. With one last look at the brooding trees, she staggered to her feet and set off down the hillside.
Perched in a treetop, one leg dangling, Alix watched her erstwhile victim's departure with mixed feelings. Something about that girl was stirring strange emotions in her breast. Satisfying her had been even more enjoyable, somehow, than tormenting her. It wasn't uncommon for Alix's victims to be turned on by her ministrations, and it was her favourite trick to bring them to the very height of expectation only to deny them, leaving them stewing in frustration. She had intended to treat her latest victim the same way – but at the last moment, she had taken pity on her. That was unusual. And now, the thought that she might never see Bethany again was causing her sharp pangs of sorrow. That was even more unusual.
This required further investigation. There was, after all, no particular reason why she couldn't leave the forest. A short city break might do her good. Perhaps her new friend would like a roommate.
Turning herself invisible, she dropped lightly to the ground and began following her victim home.
