ticklishscribe
3rd Level Violet Feather
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2002
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Inspired by Sandee,
Written by Ticklishscribe.
c. 2004.
Sandee could barely make out the shadows as she watched as the last of the sun disappear behind the trees and shivered. She knew what was coming next and tensed in her bondage.
Twilight had arrived...
She could feel a presence next to her and it made her jerk and tense again. The loons were calling less and less, retiring to their slumbers and she could almost hear an eerie stillness on the lake.
"Calm yourself." Gordon whispered. "The night is young and so are the tickles."
She tensed and jerked again, her head moving wildly around in search of the voice. She also arched her back, and strained at the bonds once more, trying to reach out and touch him.
Suddenly the shrill cry of the loon's call sliced through the room and she jerked intensely, again pulling on her bonds.
"Ahhhh. I see you like the loons on CD as well." He mused, whispering in her left ear.
She writhed at his whispering and her head turned toward him, seeing him in the shadowy twilight. She could feel his warm breath on her ear and it made her heart quicken and she closed her eyes. She jerked again when she felt his lips kiss hers and she kissed back, remembering the sensual teasing he had given her earlier on. Her eyes still closed, she kissed him once more and her breath became audible.
"So kissable and tender you are Sandee; a treasure trove of kissable and ticklish delights. And tonight I shall not be denied my booty."
She squirmed at the mere thought of him tickling her at length and at will and went to kiss him again, but his lips weren't there. She jerked and squealed when his lips kissed her left nipple and then a hand reached out to fondle the right one. The fondling made her giggle softly and she somewhat knew that what he had meant by her kissable and ticklish delights. Her entire body was all a tingle, with almost all of her nerve endings standing at attention, all alert and ready for the tickling to come.
"You are as much a big beautiful teddy bear to me Standee, as you are a big beautiful woman. And I want to say that all of our on-line chats, e-mails and phone calls have tickled me no end."
The mere and casual mention of the word "Tickled," or even the words "Tickle, tickling" and "ticklish," caused her to jerk and tense at her bonds. She closed her eyes even tighter and tried to imagine him in her position with her tickling him senseless, but the images wouldn't come. The nipple kissing and fondling was too distracting and the little tickles that went with them were wreaking havoc on her now extremely sensitive nerve endings. The previous tickling that afternoon had increased her sensitivity and now she was one giant nerve ending.
She felt him leave her nipples and jerked when she felt his lips kissing the deep recesses of her left armpit. She tried to bring her arms down and deny him this part of the kissable and ticklish treasure that he had called her, but the bonds denied her that luxury and defence. Feeling his chest pass over hers, she jerked when he began to kiss her right armpit and jerked still again when he added a little nibbling as well. She squealed feeling his nibbles in the deep recesses of her tender right hollow and wanted to protect her armpits even more now.
"Ahhh Sandee, we are cresting the edge so soon? You are just full of delicious surprises, and I haven't even begun to tickle you yet. I'm so glad that this is the longest day of the year."
The longest day of the year she asked of herself? What did that have to do with him tickling her?
"The longest-" she could only breath, unable to finish her questioning sentence.
"The longest day means the longest twilight, which in turn means the longest twilight tickles; for you." He slowly stroked a single finger in her right armpit and she began writhing.
"No, no." Was all she could speak, in an almost breathless manner and her writhing continued.
He single finger stroked the tender skin again, this time going up and down and repeating the stroke over and over. He delighted in the silky, satiny smoothness that was her armpit and he made sure that every micrometer of sensitive skin was stroked.
"Ahhh Sandee." He cooed in her right ear. "I love teasing you to start off with. It really makes your nerve endings come to attention."
Her nerve endings were standing at attention. In fact they were so rigid they were at the breaking point and she was on the edge. She was getting more and more tingly with each word he spoke, with each touch of his fingers and each movement of his body. She wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn't function properly. She wanted to run, but the bonds prevented that.
She jerked, feeling a tongue teasing and tickling her right ear and then feeling it being nibbled. She could feel his warm breath on her ear and cheek and she strained to keep her ears from his taunting feather tongue. Arching her back, she again strained at her bonds.
He loved watching her react to his touch and he made sure that he got the maximum reaction from each and every touch. His surgical tickles were inciting wave after wave of guttural laughter and intense writhing. He loved the fact that she was under his total control, that he could turn her on and off at will. Every time he'd stop tickling her, the laughter would immediately but slowly subside along with the writhing. To not turn her off completely, he would apply light to firm random strokes in random places, keeping her on the edge and a high level of uncertainty.
"Are we having fun Sandee? If you're waiting for the twilight of your tickles, that moment won't be coming for some time to come." She breathed heavily and quickly, writhing again and he smiled evilly.
"Oh my god-" She was pushing out the words with a laboured resonance.
He giggled softly and evilly and simultaneously single finger stroked both her armpits
"And tonight, something special." He added giggling evilly. "Tonight I will introduce you to the feather; the feather that I have been telling you about for so long. That fiendishly firm, but sensually soft feather, to which I call the devastator."
She froze, suddenly remembering all the times he had mentioned this particular feather. The name and word "Devastator" flashed in her mind like a larger than life neon sign and she shivered once more. She heard a quiet click followed by the feint squeak of a hinge and surmised that some sort of a box was being opened. She heard him say awwww and wondered if that he was now admiring the feather that he just spoken of.
"And the tip is just perfect for arches. " He commented quietly and giggled evilly once more. “Especially high arches like yours."
She squirmed and then began to writhe at the mere thought of it being used on her arches. The descriptive phrase "fiendishly firm, but sensually soft," flashed like another larger than life neon sign and she writhed further. She wondered intensely as to where he would strike first with the feather and tried to see it amongst the shadows.
He leaned close to her head. "Imagine it slowly ballet dancing." He whispered, teasing her. "Flitting over your arches, like some psychotic butterfly, taunting, teasing and then mercilessly pouncing on its prey.
She squealed and writhed all over, trying desperately to see where he had the feather. Her eyes became radar, yet she could not penetrate the shadows to see where it was. She could barely make out his movements and was primarily relying on his warm breath to tell her where he was. She didn't have to wait, as her inner thighs were the first to feel the sensually soft torturous tendrils. She squealed again, instantly tried to close her legs and he giggled evilly. Stroking the feather incessantly he lengthened the strokes from very short at first, to ones ranging from the knees to her womanhood. He took great delight to slowly and torturously caress the line of skin that met her panties and she became even more desperate to close her legs.
"If I said coochie coochie coo.” He asked, teasing her again. “Would that help?"
She squealed again and strained at the bonds holding her legs. She was in a battle of wills with the feather, being slowly being driven out of her mind and she tried desperately to hold in her reactions.
"Did I mention that the other end is equally a killer." He taunted again. "Or should I say quiller."
She writhed all over gyrating her hips and trying to imbed herself into the mattress to get away from the feather.
"You're thoroughly fucking evil!" She hissed, jerking at her bonds. "Just you wait till it's your turn."
He giggled evilly once more. "Compliments will get you nowhere and threats will do you no good either. However, I can threaten you at will with this feather and get deliciously delightful results. And now that I hear your laughter beginning crack, I find that I must continue."
She once again felt the feather caressing her panty line going down between her legs and writhed intensely. She clenched her eyes and mouth tightly shut, putting all her strength into not uttering a sound. But her laughter was cracking, as the walls protecting her were shaking to the point of crumbling.
"Come along pumpkin face." He continued to taunt her. "You can't hold out forever and I have all the time in the world; or should I say twilight time."
She was on the edge of losing her sanity, on the edge of bursting out laughing and she desperately tried to contain herself. Each and every tendril of the tip was sensually torturing her to the max, and every second put her in further agony. She began praying for nighttime to come, praying for darkness and the tickles to end.
Suddenly another loon split the twilight and she arched her back. Was he playing the CD again, or was that the last loon of the evening. Either way, its cry penetrated her and she squirmed intensely once more. The loon was almost as teasing and torturous as the feather and they were both driving her insane.
"Just a few more strokes you know where and I'll have you gutturally screaming cackles to my heart's content."
She suddenly felt the feather stroking her lips and she jerked then shook like crazy. Her back arched again then fell back on the bed and again she tried to burrow into it to get away from the feather. Then as fast as the feather began stroking her lips it stopped. The silence was deafening as she waited for the next strike, which came abruptly as the psychotic butterfly lightly landed upon her left nipple. Dancing around the tender nipple and areola, it sent wave after wave of tickling sensations through her. Each sensation exploded in her brain and she continued to strain at the bonds that held her down. It fluttered all over the breast now and tormented her even further, and the squeals were now becoming more audible.
"Just a few more strokes."
Now the butterfly played tag with her nipples, going from one to another and landing for only a second then moving to the other one. She could feel the butterfly feather now meandering its way away from her breasts and one short stroke at a time she could feel it moving up toward her neck. She braced herself for the sensual assault on her neck, but squealed when the feather trailed off and entered the soft and deep recess that was one of her armpits. Now the feather ballet danced and pirouetted all over, probing the very centre then outward, teasing the edge. He teased and tormented the left pit then the right and then began doing them both at will, making sure that he didn't fall into rhythm that she could get used to. Again she tried to bring her arms down, but the bonds prevented that and she strained at them and writhed intensely. He giggled evilly at her reactions and the torment that caused them as he continued to tease her with the feather. There wasn't even so much as a square millimetre of armpit that wasn't ticklish and this was playing havoc with her senses.
"Are we enjoying our twilight time?"
She dare not answer, as that would allow the laughter to escape and she was trying desperately to hold it in as long as possible. Her squeals were bringing her dangerously close to careening over the edge with laughter.
"Awwww, we are dangerously close to cracking aren't we." He giggled evilly, and then once more stopped the stroking.
She grabbed eagerly for breath, taking in as much air as possible, not knowing when or where the tickling would begin again.
"Awwwww, just look at your chest rising and falling with the tide of tickles; your ocean of ribs, a spasming sea, restless with uncertainty. Now you're probably asking yourself the question; is he going to surf my ribs with the feather."
She jerked at the question, and at the mere suggestion of him tickling her ribs with the feather. She didn't have time to contemplate the question as she felt the feather's tip on her bottom left rib.
"Surf's up... Shall we hang ten my little surfer girl? Tickles that is..."
She felt the feather touch on her rib and instantly a tsunami of erratic cackles washed over her and she bucked and writhed.
"Cowabunga." He whispered, continuing to stroke the rib from tip to back. He then surfed the other left ribs, slowly stroking the feather back and forth and taking a second's rest between ribs. He crested the wave of her right ribs now and she continued to buck and writhe. The feather was not only pure torture but also incessant as well, as he stroked and stroked and stroked.
He stopped long enough to wipe the sweat off her forehead then resumed the torturous tickling. Her senses were being blown away, her nervous system was being stripped away layer by layer and her mind was in constant overload.
"Oooooh my god! Oooooh mygod! Ooooohmygod!" She was almost breathless.
He stopped tickling again and let her rest. He watched as her writhing subsided, and her cackles returned to soft giggles. He knew she was still on the edge and that any more tickling would keep her there. She was still out of control and he knew that she was all his.
She felt him get off the bed again but in the dim shadows of the fading twilight she could barely see where he was in the room. Pressure on the bed let her know that he was again sitting by her feet and she tensed once more.
"No, no." She spoke almost breathless. "No feet, no more feet."
He giggled quietly and evilly then wrapped his right arm around her right ankle and gripped her foot by the ankle. Instantly he could feel her foot spasm and begin to writhe.
"What's say we hang five this time." He said, giggling evilly and softly and slowly stroking the tips of her toes.
Instantly her toes spasmed and splayed out all over the place and she writhed all over. This feather that had been torturing her other ticklish places unmercifully, was now setting it sights on her feet. He stroked the tips in one direction then stroked the soft pads underneath in another direction. When he did this she clenched her toes and tried to wrestle her foot away from his grasp. He was all evil giggles as he watched this, and increased his grip on her foot.
She was all giggles too and her writhing was continuous as the feather played havoc with her slender toes. He now began to play havoc with each of her toes, stroking the tips and in between. Every time her toes would splay out, he would dip the feather in between them and tickle the supple joint. This would set her off with further giggles and writhing and this would delight him no end.
"Oooooh my god! Oooooh mygod! Ooooohmygodddddddddddddd!" Her words trailed off into giggles, which now trailed into cackles.
The bed was moving once more and her entire body was heaving. This was the most evil feather she had ever felt on her and she prayed to God that he would stop.
Then suddenly he stopped and she again took in as much air as she could get, not knowing how long this unexpected break would last. Then there was silence and she strained to hear any sound. She could feel movement but the silence was deafening and she knew he was using that silence as a tool to his advantage.
Now there were more shadows than there was twilight, and she could barely see him. The silence abruptly came to an end when a flicker of short strokes on her arch with the quill end of the feather started her cackling again and she once more writhed intensely. He delighted in this and continued short stroking, only now he stroked sporadically, keeping her off guard and at an extremely heightened sensitivity. First a few strokes on the heel, then the ball of the foot, he bent the toes back and stroked under them then the instep of the foot and finally the arch.
"Oooooh my god! Oooooh mygod! Ooooohmygod! AHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He further delighted in this and then changed the order of his targets and his way of stroking. This unexpected cornucopia of strokes and targets was driving her insane and her guttural cackles now were now constant.
"Ahhh. I see I have you in the most delicious way and that you’re craving for me to stop. Well I'm not about to stop anytime soon. After all, twilight isn't over yet and as long as there's twilight there's tickles for you. Oh how I do wish I could turn back time and we could start all over again."
She cackled even louder as she felt several lighting fast short strokes in the very centre of her arch and her foot writhed intensely. She bucked, arched her back and once again strained at her bonds.
“That’s it my sumptuous tickle treat, you just lay there and go crazy for me. Let the twilight tickles turn you into one giant spasming, writhing nerve ending. He continued the fast and short strokes on her arch and delighted in the soft spasming skin. He now moved the strokes upward to the soft pad under the toes and increased his speed. He could feel all of her remaining strength being put into her foot and he had to increase his grip to keep it still. She was almost at the end of her rope and she couldn’t even push out the words to beg him to stop, she was cackling so hard. She was praying intensely that night would fall and that he would stop, and at the same time cursing the fact that this was the longest day of the year.
“You’re thoroughly fucking evil ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
“Once again I thank you for the compliment. I must make sure that I deserve your praise. How about if I five finger, spider tickle your arch for awhile.”
She cackled wildly at the thought and rocked the bed with her struggles.
“That’s better, such lovely soft skin to tickle, such lovely soft sensitive tickly skin. Coochie coochie coo, my tender little tickle.”
His fingers on her foot were agony and her arch was getting hotter by the minute. Every micrometer of her skin was being stroked to the max and she was feeling each stroke ten times over. His fingers traveled from heel to toes and back again, taking a few merciless moments to rake and rev them in her tender arch. He knew that she was still on the edge and he congratulated himself for keeping her there for so long.
“It’s a pity that I can’t stop the world turning, so that we could stay in twilight forever.”
She squealed loudly then cackled more, continuing to writhe.
“Oh I love go tickling spread eagled women.” He began singing. “And tickle their soles and toes and tickle their soles and toes and tickle their soles and toes.”
“D-d-d-don’t s-s-sing that ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
“My little ditty tickles you does it? Shall I sing the next verse?” He added a few more merciless moments to her arch and she continued to writhe and shake the bed.
“Y-y-yo-you’re dr-dr-driving me crazy!”
“Am I, my ticklish little Patsy Cline.” He answered back, still taunting her. “Crazy,” He began singing. “I’m crazy for tickling your tootsies!”
She was violently rocking from side to side.
“Or should I be more appropriately singing. ‘I’ll be tickling after midnight.’ And yes watching ‘You, fall to pieces… Each time I tickle your feet.”
He was driving her crazy, she was falling to pieces and yes he would love to be tickling her after midnight.
Then he suddenly stopped tickling and she once more took in air. She felt him get off her left leg and straddle her right one. Tensing for his touch with the feather, she jerked when she felt him putting one of her socks back on. This made her nervous as she didn’t know what he was going to do and she again began to squirm. She felt him tighten the sock and then firm up his grip on her foot. Then there was silence and she searched in the darkness to see what his next move was going to be. Her breathing got heavier and more laboured and she flinched at even his slightest movement.
He giggled evilly.
Suddenly she felt several short strokes with the quill on her sock covered arch and the sock seem to greatly enhance the tickles. She arched her back, then fell back on the bad and thrashed and cackled. Her bum and head repeatedly slammed back into the mattress and she intensely writhed once more.
“Ahhhhh. Delightful.” He continued the short stroking and added the instep and soft pad under the toes. “I should have put this sock on sooner; seeing as you obviously thoroughly enjoy it.”
“Twilight is over, twilight time is over!” She screamed, still writhing intensely.
“I don’t think so.” He replied, smiling evilly. “You see it’s always twilight time somewhere in the world, so as far as I’m concerned, it’s twilight time. And as long as there’s twilight time, there’s twilight tickles.”
Written by Ticklishscribe.
c. 2004.
Sandee could barely make out the shadows as she watched as the last of the sun disappear behind the trees and shivered. She knew what was coming next and tensed in her bondage.
Twilight had arrived...
She could feel a presence next to her and it made her jerk and tense again. The loons were calling less and less, retiring to their slumbers and she could almost hear an eerie stillness on the lake.
"Calm yourself." Gordon whispered. "The night is young and so are the tickles."
She tensed and jerked again, her head moving wildly around in search of the voice. She also arched her back, and strained at the bonds once more, trying to reach out and touch him.
Suddenly the shrill cry of the loon's call sliced through the room and she jerked intensely, again pulling on her bonds.
"Ahhhh. I see you like the loons on CD as well." He mused, whispering in her left ear.
She writhed at his whispering and her head turned toward him, seeing him in the shadowy twilight. She could feel his warm breath on her ear and it made her heart quicken and she closed her eyes. She jerked again when she felt his lips kiss hers and she kissed back, remembering the sensual teasing he had given her earlier on. Her eyes still closed, she kissed him once more and her breath became audible.
"So kissable and tender you are Sandee; a treasure trove of kissable and ticklish delights. And tonight I shall not be denied my booty."
She squirmed at the mere thought of him tickling her at length and at will and went to kiss him again, but his lips weren't there. She jerked and squealed when his lips kissed her left nipple and then a hand reached out to fondle the right one. The fondling made her giggle softly and she somewhat knew that what he had meant by her kissable and ticklish delights. Her entire body was all a tingle, with almost all of her nerve endings standing at attention, all alert and ready for the tickling to come.
"You are as much a big beautiful teddy bear to me Standee, as you are a big beautiful woman. And I want to say that all of our on-line chats, e-mails and phone calls have tickled me no end."
The mere and casual mention of the word "Tickled," or even the words "Tickle, tickling" and "ticklish," caused her to jerk and tense at her bonds. She closed her eyes even tighter and tried to imagine him in her position with her tickling him senseless, but the images wouldn't come. The nipple kissing and fondling was too distracting and the little tickles that went with them were wreaking havoc on her now extremely sensitive nerve endings. The previous tickling that afternoon had increased her sensitivity and now she was one giant nerve ending.
She felt him leave her nipples and jerked when she felt his lips kissing the deep recesses of her left armpit. She tried to bring her arms down and deny him this part of the kissable and ticklish treasure that he had called her, but the bonds denied her that luxury and defence. Feeling his chest pass over hers, she jerked when he began to kiss her right armpit and jerked still again when he added a little nibbling as well. She squealed feeling his nibbles in the deep recesses of her tender right hollow and wanted to protect her armpits even more now.
"Ahhh Sandee, we are cresting the edge so soon? You are just full of delicious surprises, and I haven't even begun to tickle you yet. I'm so glad that this is the longest day of the year."
The longest day of the year she asked of herself? What did that have to do with him tickling her?
"The longest-" she could only breath, unable to finish her questioning sentence.
"The longest day means the longest twilight, which in turn means the longest twilight tickles; for you." He slowly stroked a single finger in her right armpit and she began writhing.
"No, no." Was all she could speak, in an almost breathless manner and her writhing continued.
He single finger stroked the tender skin again, this time going up and down and repeating the stroke over and over. He delighted in the silky, satiny smoothness that was her armpit and he made sure that every micrometer of sensitive skin was stroked.
"Ahhh Sandee." He cooed in her right ear. "I love teasing you to start off with. It really makes your nerve endings come to attention."
Her nerve endings were standing at attention. In fact they were so rigid they were at the breaking point and she was on the edge. She was getting more and more tingly with each word he spoke, with each touch of his fingers and each movement of his body. She wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn't function properly. She wanted to run, but the bonds prevented that.
She jerked, feeling a tongue teasing and tickling her right ear and then feeling it being nibbled. She could feel his warm breath on her ear and cheek and she strained to keep her ears from his taunting feather tongue. Arching her back, she again strained at her bonds.
He loved watching her react to his touch and he made sure that he got the maximum reaction from each and every touch. His surgical tickles were inciting wave after wave of guttural laughter and intense writhing. He loved the fact that she was under his total control, that he could turn her on and off at will. Every time he'd stop tickling her, the laughter would immediately but slowly subside along with the writhing. To not turn her off completely, he would apply light to firm random strokes in random places, keeping her on the edge and a high level of uncertainty.
"Are we having fun Sandee? If you're waiting for the twilight of your tickles, that moment won't be coming for some time to come." She breathed heavily and quickly, writhing again and he smiled evilly.
"Oh my god-" She was pushing out the words with a laboured resonance.
He giggled softly and evilly and simultaneously single finger stroked both her armpits
"And tonight, something special." He added giggling evilly. "Tonight I will introduce you to the feather; the feather that I have been telling you about for so long. That fiendishly firm, but sensually soft feather, to which I call the devastator."
She froze, suddenly remembering all the times he had mentioned this particular feather. The name and word "Devastator" flashed in her mind like a larger than life neon sign and she shivered once more. She heard a quiet click followed by the feint squeak of a hinge and surmised that some sort of a box was being opened. She heard him say awwww and wondered if that he was now admiring the feather that he just spoken of.
"And the tip is just perfect for arches. " He commented quietly and giggled evilly once more. “Especially high arches like yours."
She squirmed and then began to writhe at the mere thought of it being used on her arches. The descriptive phrase "fiendishly firm, but sensually soft," flashed like another larger than life neon sign and she writhed further. She wondered intensely as to where he would strike first with the feather and tried to see it amongst the shadows.
He leaned close to her head. "Imagine it slowly ballet dancing." He whispered, teasing her. "Flitting over your arches, like some psychotic butterfly, taunting, teasing and then mercilessly pouncing on its prey.
She squealed and writhed all over, trying desperately to see where he had the feather. Her eyes became radar, yet she could not penetrate the shadows to see where it was. She could barely make out his movements and was primarily relying on his warm breath to tell her where he was. She didn't have to wait, as her inner thighs were the first to feel the sensually soft torturous tendrils. She squealed again, instantly tried to close her legs and he giggled evilly. Stroking the feather incessantly he lengthened the strokes from very short at first, to ones ranging from the knees to her womanhood. He took great delight to slowly and torturously caress the line of skin that met her panties and she became even more desperate to close her legs.
"If I said coochie coochie coo.” He asked, teasing her again. “Would that help?"
She squealed again and strained at the bonds holding her legs. She was in a battle of wills with the feather, being slowly being driven out of her mind and she tried desperately to hold in her reactions.
"Did I mention that the other end is equally a killer." He taunted again. "Or should I say quiller."
She writhed all over gyrating her hips and trying to imbed herself into the mattress to get away from the feather.
"You're thoroughly fucking evil!" She hissed, jerking at her bonds. "Just you wait till it's your turn."
He giggled evilly once more. "Compliments will get you nowhere and threats will do you no good either. However, I can threaten you at will with this feather and get deliciously delightful results. And now that I hear your laughter beginning crack, I find that I must continue."
She once again felt the feather caressing her panty line going down between her legs and writhed intensely. She clenched her eyes and mouth tightly shut, putting all her strength into not uttering a sound. But her laughter was cracking, as the walls protecting her were shaking to the point of crumbling.
"Come along pumpkin face." He continued to taunt her. "You can't hold out forever and I have all the time in the world; or should I say twilight time."
She was on the edge of losing her sanity, on the edge of bursting out laughing and she desperately tried to contain herself. Each and every tendril of the tip was sensually torturing her to the max, and every second put her in further agony. She began praying for nighttime to come, praying for darkness and the tickles to end.
Suddenly another loon split the twilight and she arched her back. Was he playing the CD again, or was that the last loon of the evening. Either way, its cry penetrated her and she squirmed intensely once more. The loon was almost as teasing and torturous as the feather and they were both driving her insane.
"Just a few more strokes you know where and I'll have you gutturally screaming cackles to my heart's content."
She suddenly felt the feather stroking her lips and she jerked then shook like crazy. Her back arched again then fell back on the bed and again she tried to burrow into it to get away from the feather. Then as fast as the feather began stroking her lips it stopped. The silence was deafening as she waited for the next strike, which came abruptly as the psychotic butterfly lightly landed upon her left nipple. Dancing around the tender nipple and areola, it sent wave after wave of tickling sensations through her. Each sensation exploded in her brain and she continued to strain at the bonds that held her down. It fluttered all over the breast now and tormented her even further, and the squeals were now becoming more audible.
"Just a few more strokes."
Now the butterfly played tag with her nipples, going from one to another and landing for only a second then moving to the other one. She could feel the butterfly feather now meandering its way away from her breasts and one short stroke at a time she could feel it moving up toward her neck. She braced herself for the sensual assault on her neck, but squealed when the feather trailed off and entered the soft and deep recess that was one of her armpits. Now the feather ballet danced and pirouetted all over, probing the very centre then outward, teasing the edge. He teased and tormented the left pit then the right and then began doing them both at will, making sure that he didn't fall into rhythm that she could get used to. Again she tried to bring her arms down, but the bonds prevented that and she strained at them and writhed intensely. He giggled evilly at her reactions and the torment that caused them as he continued to tease her with the feather. There wasn't even so much as a square millimetre of armpit that wasn't ticklish and this was playing havoc with her senses.
"Are we enjoying our twilight time?"
She dare not answer, as that would allow the laughter to escape and she was trying desperately to hold it in as long as possible. Her squeals were bringing her dangerously close to careening over the edge with laughter.
"Awwww, we are dangerously close to cracking aren't we." He giggled evilly, and then once more stopped the stroking.
She grabbed eagerly for breath, taking in as much air as possible, not knowing when or where the tickling would begin again.
"Awwwww, just look at your chest rising and falling with the tide of tickles; your ocean of ribs, a spasming sea, restless with uncertainty. Now you're probably asking yourself the question; is he going to surf my ribs with the feather."
She jerked at the question, and at the mere suggestion of him tickling her ribs with the feather. She didn't have time to contemplate the question as she felt the feather's tip on her bottom left rib.
"Surf's up... Shall we hang ten my little surfer girl? Tickles that is..."
She felt the feather touch on her rib and instantly a tsunami of erratic cackles washed over her and she bucked and writhed.
"Cowabunga." He whispered, continuing to stroke the rib from tip to back. He then surfed the other left ribs, slowly stroking the feather back and forth and taking a second's rest between ribs. He crested the wave of her right ribs now and she continued to buck and writhe. The feather was not only pure torture but also incessant as well, as he stroked and stroked and stroked.
He stopped long enough to wipe the sweat off her forehead then resumed the torturous tickling. Her senses were being blown away, her nervous system was being stripped away layer by layer and her mind was in constant overload.
"Oooooh my god! Oooooh mygod! Ooooohmygod!" She was almost breathless.
He stopped tickling again and let her rest. He watched as her writhing subsided, and her cackles returned to soft giggles. He knew she was still on the edge and that any more tickling would keep her there. She was still out of control and he knew that she was all his.
She felt him get off the bed again but in the dim shadows of the fading twilight she could barely see where he was in the room. Pressure on the bed let her know that he was again sitting by her feet and she tensed once more.
"No, no." She spoke almost breathless. "No feet, no more feet."
He giggled quietly and evilly then wrapped his right arm around her right ankle and gripped her foot by the ankle. Instantly he could feel her foot spasm and begin to writhe.
"What's say we hang five this time." He said, giggling evilly and softly and slowly stroking the tips of her toes.
Instantly her toes spasmed and splayed out all over the place and she writhed all over. This feather that had been torturing her other ticklish places unmercifully, was now setting it sights on her feet. He stroked the tips in one direction then stroked the soft pads underneath in another direction. When he did this she clenched her toes and tried to wrestle her foot away from his grasp. He was all evil giggles as he watched this, and increased his grip on her foot.
She was all giggles too and her writhing was continuous as the feather played havoc with her slender toes. He now began to play havoc with each of her toes, stroking the tips and in between. Every time her toes would splay out, he would dip the feather in between them and tickle the supple joint. This would set her off with further giggles and writhing and this would delight him no end.
"Oooooh my god! Oooooh mygod! Ooooohmygodddddddddddddd!" Her words trailed off into giggles, which now trailed into cackles.
The bed was moving once more and her entire body was heaving. This was the most evil feather she had ever felt on her and she prayed to God that he would stop.
Then suddenly he stopped and she again took in as much air as she could get, not knowing how long this unexpected break would last. Then there was silence and she strained to hear any sound. She could feel movement but the silence was deafening and she knew he was using that silence as a tool to his advantage.
Now there were more shadows than there was twilight, and she could barely see him. The silence abruptly came to an end when a flicker of short strokes on her arch with the quill end of the feather started her cackling again and she once more writhed intensely. He delighted in this and continued short stroking, only now he stroked sporadically, keeping her off guard and at an extremely heightened sensitivity. First a few strokes on the heel, then the ball of the foot, he bent the toes back and stroked under them then the instep of the foot and finally the arch.
"Oooooh my god! Oooooh mygod! Ooooohmygod! AHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
He further delighted in this and then changed the order of his targets and his way of stroking. This unexpected cornucopia of strokes and targets was driving her insane and her guttural cackles now were now constant.
"Ahhh. I see I have you in the most delicious way and that you’re craving for me to stop. Well I'm not about to stop anytime soon. After all, twilight isn't over yet and as long as there's twilight there's tickles for you. Oh how I do wish I could turn back time and we could start all over again."
She cackled even louder as she felt several lighting fast short strokes in the very centre of her arch and her foot writhed intensely. She bucked, arched her back and once again strained at her bonds.
“That’s it my sumptuous tickle treat, you just lay there and go crazy for me. Let the twilight tickles turn you into one giant spasming, writhing nerve ending. He continued the fast and short strokes on her arch and delighted in the soft spasming skin. He now moved the strokes upward to the soft pad under the toes and increased his speed. He could feel all of her remaining strength being put into her foot and he had to increase his grip to keep it still. She was almost at the end of her rope and she couldn’t even push out the words to beg him to stop, she was cackling so hard. She was praying intensely that night would fall and that he would stop, and at the same time cursing the fact that this was the longest day of the year.
“You’re thoroughly fucking evil ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
“Once again I thank you for the compliment. I must make sure that I deserve your praise. How about if I five finger, spider tickle your arch for awhile.”
She cackled wildly at the thought and rocked the bed with her struggles.
“That’s better, such lovely soft skin to tickle, such lovely soft sensitive tickly skin. Coochie coochie coo, my tender little tickle.”
His fingers on her foot were agony and her arch was getting hotter by the minute. Every micrometer of her skin was being stroked to the max and she was feeling each stroke ten times over. His fingers traveled from heel to toes and back again, taking a few merciless moments to rake and rev them in her tender arch. He knew that she was still on the edge and he congratulated himself for keeping her there for so long.
“It’s a pity that I can’t stop the world turning, so that we could stay in twilight forever.”
She squealed loudly then cackled more, continuing to writhe.
“Oh I love go tickling spread eagled women.” He began singing. “And tickle their soles and toes and tickle their soles and toes and tickle their soles and toes.”
“D-d-d-don’t s-s-sing that ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
“My little ditty tickles you does it? Shall I sing the next verse?” He added a few more merciless moments to her arch and she continued to writhe and shake the bed.
“Y-y-yo-you’re dr-dr-driving me crazy!”
“Am I, my ticklish little Patsy Cline.” He answered back, still taunting her. “Crazy,” He began singing. “I’m crazy for tickling your tootsies!”
She was violently rocking from side to side.
“Or should I be more appropriately singing. ‘I’ll be tickling after midnight.’ And yes watching ‘You, fall to pieces… Each time I tickle your feet.”
He was driving her crazy, she was falling to pieces and yes he would love to be tickling her after midnight.
Then he suddenly stopped tickling and she once more took in air. She felt him get off her left leg and straddle her right one. Tensing for his touch with the feather, she jerked when she felt him putting one of her socks back on. This made her nervous as she didn’t know what he was going to do and she again began to squirm. She felt him tighten the sock and then firm up his grip on her foot. Then there was silence and she searched in the darkness to see what his next move was going to be. Her breathing got heavier and more laboured and she flinched at even his slightest movement.
He giggled evilly.
Suddenly she felt several short strokes with the quill on her sock covered arch and the sock seem to greatly enhance the tickles. She arched her back, then fell back on the bad and thrashed and cackled. Her bum and head repeatedly slammed back into the mattress and she intensely writhed once more.
“Ahhhhh. Delightful.” He continued the short stroking and added the instep and soft pad under the toes. “I should have put this sock on sooner; seeing as you obviously thoroughly enjoy it.”
“Twilight is over, twilight time is over!” She screamed, still writhing intensely.
“I don’t think so.” He replied, smiling evilly. “You see it’s always twilight time somewhere in the world, so as far as I’m concerned, it’s twilight time. And as long as there’s twilight time, there’s twilight tickles.”
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