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Summer Commission Sale!

Journal Entry: Sat May 30, 2015, 5:39 PM
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In honour of all the flip flops and bare feet seen during summer time, I'm having a summer commission sale! For limited time only, I'll be accepting commissions for only 25 dollars for 3000-4000 words!

More commission info can be found here:
Opening Commissions Officially.Hi.
I've been doing commissions for a while now, but I've never made a proper journal about it, so I thought it was high time I got around to making a journal to let potential commissioners know about how I operate.
Usually how it works is we first agree on a price - my going rate is $30 for 4000-5000 words. If you want to commission me for multiple stories, then maybe we can talk about a package deal. In terms of payment, you pay half up front, and half when it is finished. Unfortunately, I don't accept points. 
Then you tell me what features you would like to see in the story - lee(s)/ler(s), tools, the situation/context, techniques, that sort of thing. I'm open to writing both /f or /m. I've done a variety of sadistic stories and light-hearted casual stories (check my gallery) with upper-body/feet focuses, so I'm alright with writing pretty much everything - You just need to be specific and state what you would like to see.
I don't charge more if you want multiple lees/ler

A sample commission info page might look like this.

Sample Commission Firstly, the general points. All characters will wear nylons since that is my preference. Tickling should focus primarily on the stockinged feet but other area are perfectly acceptable for variety. My favourite tickling implement is the feather, but again other implements are fine, as are fingers or even the tickler using their own feet as a weapon (nyloned of course). The nylons should not be torn off at any point.
Even though some of the scenes will feature interrogation type scenarios, I prefer the tickling to be reasonably playful. I enjoy dialogue and teasing.
Feel free to use as much Star Wars lore, locations, creatures as you see fit. You know far better than I that such things have a huge impact on bringing a story to life. Feathers from Star Wars creatures would make sense. Tickle bots, creatures, plants etc can be used as long as there is still a 'direct' tickling element. For example, the Endor scene could involve a tickling plant but Leia should still be feathered directly

Have a lovely summer, all! Note me if you have any further queries.

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Just a few words

Journal Entry: Sat Jan 3, 2015, 6:49 AM
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The new year is upon us, and I would just like to see a big thank you to all my watchers, commenters and commissioners who have been following me over the years. It's indescribably heartwarming to get such wonderfully long comments or birthday wishes or even another (!) premium subscription for a year.

I'm touched indeed, and resolve to work even harder in the coming new year! I thank my commissioners for their infinite patience!I'm back from my vacation, and you know that means more stories coming soon! (say within the coming week). 

Hope you all just a wonderful new year filled with mirth and laughter!

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A Certain Magical Index TK: Kuroko’s Ticklish Turn


Kuroko Shirai’s mischievous ploy to tickle her best friend in the guise of a ‘training exercise’ had almost gone off entirely without a hitch. Thus, by using an ingenious tickling machine of her own design, and taking advantage of her friend’s stubbornness she had systematically tickled nearly every inch of her friend’s body, and discovered a plethora of super-ticklish spots she could not wait to exploit in her day-to-day life.

The problem came when Kuroko accidentally revealed incriminating knowledge. One evening a few days after Mikoto’s ‘training session’, during their regular slumber party, while Mikoto was curled up in bed, Kuroko’s eyes caught the gleam of Mikoto’s freshly-painted toenails (this time painted an edgy black) and couldn’t resist pouncing on them. She wrapped the bedsheets around Mikoto like a cocoon, and went to town on those perfectly-pedicured soles, going right for those toes that she knew were super-sensitive. The sound of Mikoto’s shrill laughter was so intoxicating that Kuroko was barely cognizant of the fact she had added her tongue to the ticklish mix till it was too late. Of course, she tried to remedy the error by tickling Mikoto’s immacute soles even harder in the hopes that Mikoto might not remember due to being in the throes of powerful, ticklish mirth, but Mikoto knew. She recognized the feel of that tongue on her sole all too well.

So once Mikoto had freed herself from her bedsheet bondage, she delivered a quick retaliatory tickle to Kuroko’s pale tummy, but that would not be the extent of the ticklish revenge Mikoto had in mind. Oh yes, she had big plans for Mikoto… As the two girls returned to their respective beds and began nodding off, Mikoto snuck glances at Kuroko as the pigtailed girl slept. She was sleeping in a rather odd position, with her arms above her head like she was stretching before a gym class. Mikoto noticed those creamy underarms that were so exposed, and thought. Kuroko’s bare stomach was shown in this pose, due to the stretching of her arms, and Mikoto took notice of the cute divet and toned stomach muscles, and thought.  A single slender bare foot was also sticking out of the bedcovers, its toes perfectly painted in black and white, and its sole looking buttery soft. Mikoto thought, and thought, and thought. Thinking was all well and good, but Mikoto could not resist a bit of experimentation while she was in this position.

She stared at the defenceless, bare foot, Kuroko’s bubble-like toes all curled up as if they were cool. Mikoto smoothed out her pillow; it was one of the older pillows that still used tiny feathers for maximum comfort. She plucked a feather loose from it, slipped out of her bed, and began lightly flittering the small feather over the pretty, bare sole. She brushed the foot from toe to heel, watching Kuroko’s relaxed face as she sighed and smiled in her sleep as the teasing feathering continued. After a few more strokes, Kuroko’s other foot came into plan, leaving the cover of the bedsheets to begin rubbing at the feathered sole. It seemed the feather was creating a tickly, itchy sensation, just the kind Mikoto was keen to coax further.

The feet began jumping upwards as the feather flew across both soles, and her black and white painted toes were starting to scrunch up and wiggle. At this Kuroko began to chuckle and giggle cutely in her sleep. After a few strokes of the feather under the toes, they began to wiggle even more, and Kuroko started to move about in her sleep.

"Hihihihihih, ohohohoho… that tihihickles," the sleeping girl murmured, as she shifted about in her bed. Mikoto did not want her friend to wake up, so she gave those tender toes one last parting tickle, cherishing the way they would wiggle for the feather, and returned to her bed. The sound of Kuroko’s sleepy giggles were still in her mind as the grinning Mikoto settled back into bed.
By the time the next morning came round, Mikoto had a plan, and it was a good one.


“Good morning, Onee-sama,” Kuroko yawned, her eyes fluttering open as she greeted Mikoto who sat across from her. “If this is a dream, you can keep your clothes on this time,” she giggled.

“I’ve actually got something else in mind for today,” Mikoto said, with a cheeky grin as she ignored Kuroko’s perverted comment. She found herself in a familiar room, but in a position she had not found to see herself in. Kuroko was confused to see she was strapped into the ‘training’ device she had created, wearing nothing but her nightie. She was flat on her back, with her arms stretched out above her hand in metal shackles, while her feet were in the stocks. Then the pieces of the puzzle in her mind clicked, and she realized what had happened.

“Ahhh, you had your… training session here, right, Onee-sama?” Kuroko say coyly, as she wiggled her feet and toes in the metal stocks, as they had both gone numb from her slumber.

“I’m sure you know all about it, as it was your plan in the first place,” Mikoto said, crossing her arms.

“What makes you say that?” Kuroko said, trying to put on her best innocent face.

Mikoto laughed, as she casually tapped a finger on Kuroko’s milky-white, stocked foot, making the bound girl giggle. “Well, for a start, you knew about my training session. I didn’t tell you about it!”

“Uhhhh, lucky guess?”

“Also, you seem remarkably unsurprised about this place. No questions about ‘what is this machine?’ or ‘why am I in stocks?’  that sort of thing.”

“What is this machine? Why am I in stocks?” Kuroko said, with a mischievous smile.

“Nice try,” Mikoto smirked. “And I also realized…” A flush crept into Mikoto’s cheeks. She did not want to admit she had recognized the feeling of Mikoto’s tongue on her sole, as that would be letting her dirty-minded friend realize just how sensual she had found the whole thing to be. “…I also realized no one loves to tickle me as much as you.”

“Well, you are a lot of fun to tickle, Onee-sama,” Kuroko said with a straight face. “Ask anyone!”

“Pshhh,” Mikoto said, with a shake of her head. “Well today, will be seeing how fun you are to tickle!”

Kuroko shot her best friend a defiant grin. “Bring it on, Onee-sama! I’m not nearly as ticklish as you. In fact…” Kuroko stuck out her tongue and smirked. “I don’t think anyone has feet or ribs as ticklish as you.”

“We’ll see about that!” Mikoto declared, as she dug into her best friend’s feet with gusto. Kuroko immediately burst into high-pitched giggles, eeping and squeaking with every shift of Mikoto’s long nails. The girls had both given each other manicures in addition to pedicures during their slumber party, and Mikoto was putting those sharp, varnished nails to good use, scraping and stroking her nails all over the pale, ticklish soles before her, leaving little pink trails upon the skin as she went.

As Mikoto’s nails roved around the tender flesh of Kuroko’s excellently-maintained soles, Mikoto started to see the appeal in being the tickler in charge. There was a certain power rush in having so much control over a person, and Mikoto loved the way she could make her friend squeak and squeal with well-timed strikes from her nimble fingers.

It was almost like she had a remote control, Mikoto thought, as she scratched at her friend’s soft heels to make Kuroko’s toes wiggle like they were doing a dance, before zeroing on the tips of those splendidly-painted toes to make Kuroko go into silent laughter.  Mikoto’s quite enjoyed hearing the sound of her friend’s bubbly, wild laughter, so she quickly abandoned the toes and dug deep into those slender, immaculate arches to send her friend into deep belly laughter.

“Tickle, tickle, Kuroko,” Mikoto teased, enjoying the feel of her friend’s soft feet under her fingers. She could really see why Kuroko enjoyed this so much. It was pretty fun! And Kuroko’s melodious laughter was music to her ears. They were just having a wonderful giggly time!

“Thihihihihis is nohohohohothing!” Kuroko said, trying to taunt her friend. The taunt was rather ineffectual because of all the laughter that was spilling from her lips, but Mikoto immediately caught on to what her friend was trying to do. It was a challenge – Mikoto was daring her friend to tickle her harder. She wondered if maybe Kuroko enjoyed being tickled as much as she did. Wait, what? That’s not what I mean… Mikoto thought.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she resolved to tickle Kuroko’s feet even harder. Laughing was all well and good, but she wanted her friend to beg, the way Mikoto had with those machines. Hmmmm, machines… there’s a thought, Mikoto mused, as she stared at the ticklish devices that were still there next to the restraints. I have to keep that in mind for later…

“Cootchie cootchie coo!” Mikoto said, her fingers flying over Kuroko’s soles quickly, as the pigtailed girl threw her head back and burbled with wild laughter. Mikoto’s fingers teased under Kuroko’s scrunched toes, and immediately they flew open, like someone had just pressed the button for an elevator. The toes sprang open and spread out shamelessly, welcoming the incursion of fingers against ticklish flesh. Although there was no toe bondage used, Mikoto couldn’t help but notice how Kuroko’s pale white soles acted as if they were immobilized. Aside from a few minor twitches and toe scrunches, her feet stayed still, almost as if Kuroko wanted to do everything she could to facilitating Mikoto’s teasing of her super sensitive soles. She would always arc her feet back so those deep, ticklish arches would be smooth as possible for Mikoto’s fingers to skate across.

“Dohohohohoho your woheheherse!” Kuroko spluttered, as Mikoto’s fingers traced along the stems of her perfectly-painted black and white toes. She spread her toes as wide as they would go to give Mikoto unfettered access to every ticklish inch of those appendages.

“You know, I think I will!” Mikoto blustered, sitting up from her perch at Kuroko’s trapped soles. She pressed the robotic feather device and the backscratcher towards the foot of the bondage. “I think it’s time to give your upperbody a bit of attention. But we wouldn’t want your feet getting lonely, would we?”

Oh no, that would be no fun at all… Kuroko thought with glee, and the glee she was feeling bubbling about in her insides was not the ticklish kind, either. Kuroko gave a final squeal of laughter as Mikoto used those lovely long fingers of hers to give a parting tickling on Kuroko’s stocked, sensitive feet before moving to straddle Kuroko’s stomach. Mikoto gave her friend a naughty smile that sent shivers down Kuroko’s back, and aimed a jolt of electricity at the devices, jarring them to life.

Kuroko could only marvel at her own technical expertise as she felt the wooden fingers of the backscratcher begin its automated tickling patterns while the soft tendrils of the feather began its own machinations. She had tested the machine out on herself, of course, but it was incomparable to the sensation she was experiencing today. Even if it wasn’t a dream, Kuroko did not know if she could think of a hotter scenario.

She loved to be tickled, especially on her feet, and she had actually built this machine a while ago to give her ‘foot massages’ long before she had got the idea to create a little training session for her bestie. Kuroko would never beg for the tickling to stop, because well, she didn’t want it to. To wake up to find herself strapped in her own machine, with her best friend’s long, varnished nails (which Kuroko had been the one to do!) ravaging all over her super ticklish soles was a dream come true.

Kuroko erupted into machine gun-style splutters of laughter when Mikoto began grabbing around her sides with those long nails of hers. “Yohohohohou know I’ll get yohohohhohoho bahahahack for thihihihis!”

“I know you’ll try,” Mikoto smirked.

It was even better because there was now an unspoken understanding that Kuroko would get revenge at some point, and their little tickle-war would keep on escalating and escalating until… well, forever, right? The thought made Kuroko’s smile grow even wider than the silly grin she already had plastered on her face from the tinkling tickles. Maybe Mikoto would let her guard down in class, and Kuroko could sneak a few tickles in while Mikoto was trying to answer a teacher’s question! Oh, wouldn’t that be fun! Plots of revenged had to be put on hold for a while as Mikoto began drilling her fingers into her bare armpits, utterly unprotected by her flimsy nightie. The ticklish sensations from her upper and lower body were starting to conflate together to create this steady roar of bursting mirth, which beleaguered Kuroko’s body with powerful sensations.

“You really did a good job with the bondage here,” Mikoto observed coolly, as she leisurely walked her fingers from the edges of Kuroko’s triceps down to the hollows of those quivering underarms and then back again. “I remember how tight it was in there.”

“Juhuhuhuhust the wahahahahay yohohohohoho lihihihike it, Onee-Sahahahahama,” Kuroko said, her voice contaminated with so many giggles it was becoming hard to speak clearly. The utensils at her feet were damn effective, even more than she remembered when she first set them up and created them.

“You’re so silly,” Mikoto said, her words dismissive but a broad grin on her face as she said them.

“Hohohohohow dihihihid you get sohohoho gahahahahad at thihihis?” Kuroko struggled to say. The fact she was having so much difficult enunciating her words proved the verisimilitude of what she was saying.

“Well, I did learn from the best,” Mikoto said proudly, as her fingers continued to move like a blur over Kuroko’s mid-section, hopping from side to underarm to stomach in a flurry of movement. “And you did a real number on me last time!”

“Thahahahahanks!” Kuroko howled, shaking her pigtail wildly from side-to-side as she tried to respond to the stimulating touches at her body. “Buhuhuhuhut, I think I lihihike it when you tihihihickle my feeheeeheeet mohohohore!” she said, kicking out with her feet for emphasis.

“Why is that? Do the machines tickle too much?” Mikoto asked, with a chuckle “I was in there for a lot longer than you!”

With the mass of ticklish sensations bombarding her body, Kuroko was unable to vocalize her opinion of how fingers felt much better on her bare feet than the tongs of the backscratcher and the bristles of the feather, alas. Fortunately, Mikoto somehow managed to understand what she was trying to say, as Mikoto gently nudged the machines away. The dalliance with her upperbody had ended, as Mikoto gave Kuroko’s bellybutton a last poke before returning to her seat at Kuroko’s soles, which had reddened somewhat from the prolonged tickle assault.

“Your poor feetsies are all red,” observed Mikoto as she stared down at Kuroko’s thoroughly-tickled feet.

“Your feet were redder last time, Onee-sama,” Kuroko said with a smile, pointing one of her feet at Mikoto like an accusing finger.

“Oh, you…” Mikoto said, rolling her eyes. She reached down into her bag and pulled out a bottle of lotion. She began to rub the lotion into Kuroko’s brutalized soles. The pigtailed girl cooed from the pleasant sensations as her best friend gave her pinkened soles a nice invigorating massage, adding more lotion every now and then. The massage didn’t quite stoke the fire in her belly the way the tickling did, but the massage was a very pleasant experience, peppered in with occasional (seemingly inadvertent tickles) from Mikoto’s dangerously long fingernails.

Kuroko closed her eyes for a moment. She knew what would come next.

“You did your homework… this is going to make my feet even more ticklish, isn’t it, Onee-sama?” Kuroko asked, with a wide grin on her face that suggested this did not faze her one bit.

“You betcha. I do my homework,” Mikoto said, sticking her tongue out.

With a final squirt of lotion on Kuroko’s already-super ticklish feet, Mikoto sent to work massaging the lotion into every inch of her friend’s gorgeously pretty feet. Now they were baby-soft and slick to the touch, ready for a final dose of tickle treatment.

“Are you ready for this?” Mikoto grinned.

Kuroko scrunched her toes then opened them  the way a boxer might crack his knuckles before a fight. “Bring it!”

And bring it she did.                       

“Now those we have these dainty things all lotioned up…” Mikoto said, gesturing to the stocked pair of feet before her. “Let’s bring out the big guns!” she cheered, as she lifted up a pair of powerful electric toothbrushes.

A grin appeared on Kuroko’s face at the sight of them. Oh boy… now we’re talking… she thought, while her heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest. Those electric toothbrushes had been part of a stomach scrubbing device that she had never quite been able to get working, but Kuroko was ecstatic to see that her resourceful friend had requisitioned them in order to give Kuroko’s velvety-soft soles the scrubbing of a lifetime.

“By the way… it seems your feet got dirty somehow. I’ll help you get the dust off. Aren’t I a wonderful friend?” Mikoto said with a smirk on her face, her tone mocking. Kuroko knew full well there wasn’t any dust or anything icky on her sole, and this was just an excuse to ‘clean’ her feet with the toothbrushes, but she accepted this fact willingly. If anything, she marvelled at her friend’s creativity in coming up with such a good excuse. She had to do something similar when she got her revenge. Maybe she could give Mikoto’s armpits and stomach a good scrubbing?

She was planning this all out when suddenly Kuroko yelped: “Hreeeeeee!” The toothbrushes had introduced themselves to her heels. They stayed in one spot, right at the lowest point of her sole, the bristles spinning away happily. The electric toothbrush was a unique tool in that it required no manoeuvring or even any kind of movement. One could just press them in place and let the whirling, spinning head do the work for you. As a result, there was no device better for a precise tickle attack.

Mikoto quickly grew bored of the harassment of Kuroko’s heels, and the brushes quickly headed for greener tickling pastures. The pale arches were clearly filthy in Mikoto’s mind, as she spent an ungodly amount of time down there, and she seemed determined to clean every millimetre of Kuroko’s high arches. Kuroko responded by laughing outrageously , of course, to show how just how much it tickled. She was amazed at the intensity of the electric toothbrushes buzzing about her sensitive arches, and how it felt like she could feel every single tiny bristle.

After the arches were cleaned to Mikoto’s satisfaction, the toothbrushes briefly went over less ticklish spots, like the side and tops of her feet, and the fleshy balls of her foot. Evidently, these less ticklish spots were miraculously cleaner, as their cleaning was astonishingly rapid.

Now the toes, oh, those prettily black and white painted toes of Kuroko’s would be a whole other story.

Upon reaching them, Mikoto seemed invigorated in her cleaning duties, probably because she knew how hilariously ticklish her friend was there. She scrubbed under and in between the toes with gusto, making sure every little sensitive fold and niche got a taste of the brush. The toe tickling got so extreme that Kuroko’s toes couldn’t even stay in place. Mikoto had to use one hand to push her friend’s super-sensitive feet back just to ensure each toe got the scrubbing it so definitely deserved, and indeed, craved for.

With the toes stretched taut and spread, Mikoto began working fervently on all the toes, from the pinkie toe on her left foot onwards till she gave the pinkie toe on the right an in-depth brushing. She would brush across the tip, the sides, the pad, and fleshy undersides before meandering across the toe webbing between the toes and snaking up to the next toe in line. By the time Mikoto had finished all the toes, a ticklish grin was plastered across Kuroko’s face from ear-to-ear.

“Ready for the final round?”


“Now, I wasn’t sure I was going to do this, but I’m pretty sure you did this to me, and it tickled like crazy, so…” Mikoto said, as she chewed on her lower lip. Kuroko did not think it was possible for her heart to beat any quicker as Mikoto lowered her head and glared at Kuroko’s slightly reddened soles. She had an inkling of what ‘this’ was, and if she was right, she was in for one heck of a tickle high. The feeling of warm hands caressing her tender toes and soles filled her body with nourishing and soothing warmth, and if she was correct about Mikoto using the most devious of tickling tools available to her, then this would be even more intensive and sensual than that.

Sure enough, Kuroko was not disappointed. It was everything she thought it would be… and more.

Quick as a serpent, Mikoto’s warm, wet tongue flashed out and flicked across the undersides of her invitingly outstretched toes. Kuroko’s first reaction was a gasp, and then she began to half-coo, half-giggle as she felt the tongue lick and lap across her soles. After all the scrubbing and scratching her poor tootsies had endured, the soft, moist touch of the tongue was especially welcome.

The tongue felt soft and rough at the same time, especially when Mikoto would use her teeth to nibble. The slick, fleshy organ slid wildly to and fro over Kuroko’s feet, with a surprising celerity. None of her machines had ever been able to tickle her quite like this! It lapped in and out quickly, licking across the sole of her foot faster than fingers.

The tongue flicked round the sole in a circular pattern, before then tracing various shapes, and letters. Each toe got its personal tongue treatment too, as the slithering appendage slipped between the spaces between Kuroko's pedicures toes, and lightly licking those horrendously sensitive gaps along the webbing of the toes. The teeth would occasionally make an appearance too; Kuroko almost kicked Mikoto in the eye when the sharp teeth nibbled along the ball of her feet, for the sudden sensation was such a contrast from the soft touch of that amorous tongue.

It was here that the gasps and moans intermingled with the laughter really made their presence felt. Kuroko was yowling like a dog in heat as Mikoto’s nimble tongue did unspeakable things to her feet and loins. More than once during a particularly sultry gasp, Kuroko’s hips thrust upwards, physically begging to gain some kind of release. Mikoto pretended not to notice the sight, but there was no ignoring the sounds Kuroko was making, so true to her personality, Mikoto was quick to spoil her fun.

After a while of maddeningly teasing Kuroko’s feet by exclusively using her tongue, Mikoto diabolically reintroduce her fingers to the mix, so Kuroko might have to contend with having a big toe nibbled while twenty fingers spidered across the same foot at the same time. Kuroko went from cooing to squealing quickly, though with her mouth curved up in such a wide smile there was no doubt that she loved every single moment of it.

“My mouth is tired,” Mikoto complained, rubbing her jaw with one hand as she continued to dance her sharp fingernails over Kuroko’s soles with her other hand. “I think I prefer using my fingers anyway. Can’t have you having too much fun!” The devastatingly sharp fingernails quickly descended on Kuroko’s flawless soles again. Her eyes closed, as laughter began spilling out of her uncontrollably again, the tickling all the sweeter because of the tongue treatment she had just finished receiving. Kuroko was dimly aware of a flash of electricity as the devices on her upperbody began rampaging across her ticklish torso yet again, but she only had one thought on her mind.

I could do this all day.


Little did Kuroko know that Mikoto was thinking the exact same thing.

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A Certain Magical Index TK: Mikoto’s Ticklish Training


Mikoto Misaka had been intrigued when she saw the note at her desk advertising a new training programme designed just for her. “Push your limits to the max, and improve!” it read. Mikoto had risen from a level 1 esper to a level 5 esper through her exceptional work ethic, so she jumped at a new training regime to improve her powers even further.

And that was how she had ended up in her current predicament. She had followed the note to a classroom in Tokiwadai Middle School, but as soon as she stepped inside and took a deep breath, a powerful scent knocked her unconscious.

She found herself strapped to some kind of bizarre contraption, with an automated, computerized voice speaking in her ear.

“Apologies for that. The surprise would have been ruined if you had just seen everything,” the computer voice said apologetically.

“What are you saying? Let me go!” Mikoto said indignantly, trying to squirm free. There was a blindfold on her face, and she could feel manacles and metal straps all over her body. She could feel she was flat on her back on some cold metallic surface, and her hands were encased in some kind of velvety material. The straps held her wrists, waist, and ankles tightly to the horizontal table.

“Are you sure? You are here for training, are you not? Would you give up before even hearing about the challenge?”

Mikoto bit her lip. It was not like her to give up so quickly… “What challenge?” she asked.

“30 minutes of endurance. Do not use your powers,” the voice said, as a graphic of a timer suddenly appeared on the inside of Mikoto’s blindfold, enabling her to see the time. “Use of your electricity powers prolongs the ordeal. Do you accept?”

The bound girl took a deep breath as she mulled it over. 30 minutes without her powers did not seem too difficult. But she had to know more before committing. “What’s the purpose of this training? How will it help me?”

“Self-control, perseverance, and patience. There will be moments where you must wait for the opportune moment to strike. This training exercise is about waiting for that moment to present itself.”

Mikoto chewed on that. “Fine. I’m in. Let’s do this,” she said, tossing her brown hair back. How hard could it be? She could do this.

“The training exercise has now officially begun,” the robotic voice blared, as the machine made an ominous whirl. “Phase 1.”

Phase 1? Mikoto did not have time to figure out what meant, as she felt the straps around her wrists slowly tilt backwards, slowly but steadily stretching her stomach till she was elongated to the maximum. She also felt her brown loafers being plucked off. Wait, what was about to happen to her? Mikoto wondered. The programme had only mentioned a training exercise, and Mikoto had forgotten to ask exactly what would be happening to her in it!  As Mikoto was cursing under her breath for being so foolish, she got the answer to her riddle.

She felt a rubber-tipped prong prod against her right side, making her twitch and yelp out of reflex, Mikoto’s light brown vest sweater and white blouse providing little protection. She felt another prong poking on her left, right along her fully-stretched out armpit. Mikoto bit her lip as she felt laughter welling up in her throat as the prong entered her armpit. She was gritting her teeth and choking back giggles as the prong poked in and wriggled about, as the brown-haired girl had no way of protecting her helpless underarm. What is going on…

It became obvious as she felt what must have been a wooden backscratcher itching at the ball of her right foot, which were still protected by her thick white socks. The ordeal was tickling. Mikoto almost laughed aloud, though that was only because of how laughable the ordeal was, not because it tickled or anything… she could take tickling! Tickling was the kind of thing that happened at slumber parties! She remembered about a week ago she had gotten into a tickle fight with her best friend and roommate, Shirai Kuroko. The girls had been painting their toenails and giving each other pedicures, but while Kuroko was finishing up the application of electric-yellow nail polish on Mikoto’s toes, the mischievous girl gave Mikoto’s soft sole a quick tickle. Squealing in surprise, Mikoto had pounced on Kuroko’s pale feet, whose toes had been painted in alternating black and white colours, and scribbled her fingers wildly over them till Kuroko had been too breathless to say "stop tickling me, Onee-sama! Toohohohohoho tihihicicklish!" Kuroko had put up a token resistance, trying to take a swipe at Mikoto’s slender feet or sides, but Mikoto had quelled her defiance with a few well-placed scratches under those pretty toes.

That being said, Mikoto still felt herself gasp, and her breathing accelerate as the scratcher continued to weave along her soles. The scratches went from short, light scrapes to long, deeper scratches on the delicate flesh. Mikoto felt her toes start to wiggle in her socks as her high arches began to receive the brunt of this scratching. 

The tickling at her midriff was intensifying too, as the two rubber-tipped prongs continued to dig and scratch in her sensitive armpits. At her sides a pair of clamps began squeezing her sides, making her jolt and splutter with laughter. Mikoto hated to admit it, but no matter how hard she fought it, the tickling was starting to wear her out. Giggles were trickling from her lips now, and she found herself twisting harder and harder instinctively against her bondage. The scratcher was chasing the undersides of Mikoto’s toes, and although she could wiggle her foot away, it was only delaying the inevitable and sparing her digits a few moments of ticklish reprieve. The prongs made it feel like the sleeves of Mikoto’s blouse weren’t even there, as they teased the sensitive skin there with their rubber tips. The clamps at her sides were tweaking her right side and her left side in alternating actions, making her jolt one way and then the other as if she was rowing in a boat.

“Gahahahah stahahahap ihihihiht! Ihihihit tihihihickles!” Mikoto found herself saying, as the devilish mechanical implements tickled her harder and harder. The timer in her blindfold said that only eight minutes had elapsed, but it felt more like eight hours to Mikoto as she snorted and squeaked with high-pitched girlish laughter. She felt a tingling in her fingers as she reflexively wanted to conjure electricity to free herself from this ticklish trial, but she remembered the rules of the training programme. She had to endure! With sweat trickling down her chin as her laughter grew more and more frenetic. The tickling tools were tireless, and they were content to keep tickling and tickling as sweat began to trickle down Mikoto’s brow.

At the ten minute mark, Mikoto felt the mechanical devices coming to a halt. Grateful, Mikoto gulped in air as she tried to catch her breath.

“Phase 2 will commencing in thirty seconds,” the cool electronic voice stated. The thirty second break was not a restful one, as Mikoto felt metal pincers roll up her vest and blouse so her bare stomach was exposed. Doubtless there would be a whole host of devices dedicated to tickling the hell out of me there… Mikoto thought, her trepidation only increasing as her thick white socks were pulled off so now her bare, white feet would be even more ticklish, as they were without the protection of her socks, which had blocked out some of the tickling. , as she wiggled her painted toes nervously, adjusting to the cool air on her soles.  Mikoto dimly wondered if her brightly-painted yellow toenails would be a prime target with their eye-catching vibrancy. Sure enough, she felt something stranger and rubbery latch onto her toes that felt a bit like mini-plungers. They felt like little rubber suction cups, and these suctions zeroed in on the very tips of each toe, latching onto them securely by sucking out the air so there was no way the suction cups could be dislodged by frantic foot flailing. Within seconds, the suction cups had tightened, and the toes were slightly pulled apart to expose the deliciously sensitive crevices in between. With those suction cups in place, Mikoto’s milky-white sole was pulled taut, and her feet would not be able to dodge swipes from the wooden backscratcher again.

This all added up to Phase 2 being even more unbearable than Phase 1, and Mikoto did not even have a moment to brace herself, because Phase 2 was about to start.


Mikoto tried to wiggle her bare feet nervously, but found the toe bondage restricted all her movement. The tickling had been bad enough with socks on, so just what would it be like when she had lost even her last bastion of defence? She sucked in her breath and tried not to think about what delectable targets her pale, petite feet must be. She knew the wrinkly arches on her soles would be a pleasing shade of white, while the balls, heels and sides of her feet were a slightly pinkish colour.

She felt the backscratcher make contact with her left sole again, as the wooden claws raked up her arch. Within two long racks of the scratcher, Mikoto could feel her control ebbing away as laughter began trickling past her tightly-pressed lips.

“Gahahahaha, nohohohohoho fahahahair!” Mikoto cried, as she felt something soft and bristly brush against the soft flesh of her other foot. As if the backscratcher on its own wasn’t bad enough! Mikoto couldn’t see what the soft, wispy thing tormented her right foot was, but she had a dark suspicion it was an evil feather. The feather was a smaller, lighter, fluffier thing, but it served as a sharp contract to the rakes and slices across her left sole of the backscratcher. The backscratcher was a large, unwieldy thing, although it was devastating on Mikoto’s high arches with long strokes. On the other hand, the feather dusted, teased, and probed Mikoto’s sole in search for sweet spots, in particular around and especially in between Mikoto’s freshly-pedicured yellow toes, where the backscratcher was unable to explore meticulously. The feather definitely made up for its size with a thorough exploration of the gaps between Mikoto’s toes, and the computer clearly made notes on how much Mikoto giggled when the wisps of the feather teased the webbing between her slender digits. For a normal person, it would have been quite difficult to use each hand to tickle in such drastically different ways, the same way it was hard to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time, but the machine had no such restrictions, as the machine masterfully elicited ticklish laughter from the seated student.

Mikoto squeaked and squealed as her toes were continuously tantalized by the soft touch of the feather, her giggles interspersed with harsh belly laughter was the backscratcher wreaked havoc on her other foot.  She tried to fight it, but she felt like she was between a rock and a hard place when it came to the tickle torment being inflicted on her soles; her arches were a terrible spot for her, especially with her foot pulled taut like this, and the backscratcher was doing something ungodly to all the ticklish nerves clustered around there and the ball of her food. Yet with the feather wiggling underneath her tender toes and inside the sensitive spaces between them, she felt like there was no spot on her feet as bad as her toes, as the slightest touch underneath her toes made it feel like her muscles had turned to jelly. Her blindness made it even worse, as every attack was a surprise that caught her off guard so everything tickled that much more.

She tried her best so scrunch her toes again but there was no breaking free of those accursed suction gaps that had captured her toes. They kept her toes firmly in place, no matter how hard she strained, and they always kept the undersides of her toes exposed so every inch of her sensitive digits could receive proper ticklish attention. And to think the instruments on her midsection had been idle… this was not boding well at all for the young student’s perseverance. If she was already losing her mind now, how bad would it be when her upperbody was worked on too?

Her eyesight was starting to get blurry from her clenching her eyes shut as she tried to keep her laughter under control, but the laughter was flowing freely and easily now, as the backscratcher and the feather continued their merry meander along her trapped white soles. And the timer stated she still had half of her ordeal to go… Mikoto’s willpower was fraying as she felt sweat creep along her brow from all her struggles. Her brown hair was starting to clump to her head uncomfortably, and more than once had almost unleashed an electrical burst out of pure instinct to save her sensitive soles from further ticklish trauma. To her relief, the implements at her feet finally stopped, but this was no cause for celebration as Mikoto heard the whirl of new devices at her stomach. All she could do was hope it would not be as bad.


The ticklish student should have been happy that her slender soles were saved from the tickling, but the tickling at her upperbody and legs made it so it was no cause for celebration. Within moments, she was cackling like a madwoman as the ticklish devices pierced through her already-weakened defences in seconds. Like the tickling that had been inflicted upon her feet, the tickling tools had stepped their game up. With her shirt rolled up, the bare flesh of her stomach was on full display, and the computer took to attacking this new spot with mechanical gusto. A swam of feathers danced up and down her tummy, with feathers constantly flittering into her navel. Mikoto had never known how susceptible her belly button was to feathers, but she was becoming very well-acquainted with that fact as feathers twirled and dipped into that ticklish divet at a maddening rate. Already, Mikoto felt herself accidentally release a few sparks from the bottoms of her soles. No!

For her ribs and armpits, a set of rapidly vibrating prods rummaged up and down, and it was unreal how much it tickled when they vibed her ribcage. Mikoto was straining at her bondage, desperate to move her arms away from them. She felt the trickle of electricity in her veins yet again, as the tickling threatened to blow up her self-control.

Her sides had a pair of cold, metallic clamps working over them, squeezing and jolting the sensitive flesh there. Being poked in the sides was something Kuroko did to her occasionally, but a finger poking you lightly was one thing, and the mechanical precision of the clamps was a different one altogether. The pressure and location changed constantly. It seemed the machine had been programmed with a random touch and time-span for each movement, and trying to predict the next tickle spot was an exercise in futility, as it always seemed to catch her off-guard, making her jump every few seconds in ticklish reflex. It was the sides that tipped the scales, and made Mikoto lose control for the first time. The tickling at her feet was more of a scratchy, teasing sort of tickling, but the squeezing and poking was more a muscle-stimulating sort of thing, would made her flinch and gasp each time. It was during one of these flinches, when the instinctive impulse to flee was strongest, that Mikoto found herself surging with electrical power, and so desperate to escape her ticklish confines, she let it loose. Mikoto released a massive burst of energy, but instead of overloading or disabling the machine, it seemed to empower it as it filled with energy. The timer in front of Mikoto’s eyes, which had been at ten minutes, doubled to twenty.

“Nohohohoho!” Mikoto groaned, still half-giggling, as she tossed her head from side to side. She had been nearly finished! “Gahahahaha!” she said, pulling at her bonds even harder. She knew escape was likely as impossible as before, but she needed some way to vent her frustration. Mikoto’s tidy light brown hair was becoming a mess as she whipped her head back and forth.

To make matters worse, she could feel the devices at her reddened feet beginning to hum into motion again. Just what she needed! Mikoto thought, her immaculate feet already tingling in anticipation. She was expecting the backscratcher digging into her high arches, or the feather snaking its way through her tender toes, but the machine had a new trick in its bag. When she felt the two things hit her right foot, her first instinct was they were feathers – bristly, pointy feathers with sharp points. But as they drug across her sole, one drawing tiny circles on her arch while the other traced across the toe balls, she realized they were paintbrushes, similar to the kind used in traditional calligraphy. So in addition to the onslaught on her ticklish upperbody, Mikoto was having a masterpiece drawn on her right foot by a pair of diabolical brushes, and they took keen care to ‘paint’ every inch of her soles. They stayed to her right foot, but they would weave about in unpredictable patterns so Mikoto’s terribly ticklish foot would never be desensitized. They would trace about in asymmetrical patterns, one teasing the base of her smooth arch while the other slid along the tips of her toes.

Another surge of electricity unwittingly came forth when the two paintbrushes attacked the toes of her right foot in concert. One brush at those sensitive toes of hers was bad enough, but Mikoto was powerless to stop the electricity flowing from her body when one paintbrush was delicately stroking the skin on the inner side of her big toe while the other was brushing wildly underneath her pinkie toe.

And just like Mikoto predicted the timer jumped from fifteen minutes to twenty-five, and a new set of implements went to work. Mikoto would never admit this, but as her throat started to chaff from so much continuous laughter, she wondered if perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew.


“Urgeeeeeeee,” Mikoto said, half grunting and half squealing as she again lost it and gave another huge, powerful jolt of electricity unwillingly into the machine! She could believe what was happening. How could she have such a poor grasp on her powers! It was just silly old tickling! She just had to focus and keep her mind on the time… Of course, that was a lot easier said than done, as the ‘silly old tickling’ had a wicked new addition to their tickling arsenal.

With Mikoto’s underarms perfectly stretched and exposed back due to the clever design of the rack, there was nothing she could do to prevent the latest tickling tool from delving into the creamy hollows of her armpits, which were only protected for a thin cotton layer of clothing.

Mikoto’s first reaction was that a pair of merciless hands was drilling into those ticklish pits, but she soon realized they tickled far too much to be ordinary fingers. Everything tickled too much, from her feet (which were still being ‘painted’) to her underarms, Mikoto realized dimly. The metallic (they had to be metallic, Mikoto decided) fingers had long nails, and each finger seem to vibrate in her underarms maddeningly. Over time, as Mikoto’s nerves began to fray further and further from the masterful ticklish ministrations of all this malevolent devices, she let loose further electric shocks, not even realizing as more and more ticklish tools were added to her helpless, over stimulated body.

She felt something wet lap at her left foot. Some kind of imitation tongue? Mikoto was too tired from laughing to think. Whatever it was, it tickled terribly, as it lapped up and down her trembling arch and planted plenty of ticklish licks under and in between her yellow toes. But compared to the fiendish brushing on her other foot, it was almost a massage.

Something light began to tease against her bare thighs. They felt like feathers which danced all over the milky-white flesh of those tantalizingly ticklish inner thighs. The plumes would roam from the back of the knees to where the shorts Mikoto wore under her skirt met. The touch of the feathers there drove her crazy, sending shivers down her spine and conjuring butterflies in her stomach. The bristly feathers started out with light traces around her mid-thigh region, but soon they began to breach the territory around the inside of her thighs up to the crease, which made her tummy churn with peculiar feelings as it went dangerously close to her privates.

As the feathers ran up and down her inner thighs, there was nothing Mikoto could do but bounce my legs fruitlessly. Or was there? Mikoto thought, in a hazy daze of tickle-fuelled delirium. Mikoto bit her lip as she felt the metal fingers probing her armpits gently graze against the sides of her breasts. Maybe the tickling wasn’t so bad after all… Just like when it came to homework, revision, battle, or anything, the trick was focusing. Maybe she had been approaching this whole thing wrong. Maybe the trick to enduring was to see that the tickling might actually be… nice?

Mikoto closed her eyes, tried not to think about the blindfold with its timer. She squealed and giggled with abandon, as the devices continues to stoke her into a ticklish frenzy, but this time she accepted it, and didn’t try to struggle to contain her laughter. She was following the current of ticklish mirth now, instead of trying to fight so hard against it. She let it flow from her unbidden, her mind’s eyes on the tickles that teased her body in all the ways she liked. She tried to ignore the squeezing of her sides and the mindmelting swabbing of the paintbrushes on her right foot. Her whole world became the gentle feathering along her thighs which sent a trickle of delicious warmth tingling through her body. Her whole world became the tender kisses and licks on her sensitive left foot, which were in dire need of some loving. Her whole world became the tantalizing scratches along the edge of her tender bosoms. She closed her eyes, as giggles and moans merged together and she lost herself to the laughter.

The brown-haired girl was almost disappointed when the tickling stopped, and a prerecorded message told her how well she had done to pass the trial. She almost blurted out the words “Don’t Stop”, as she tugged on her socks and shoes and left the room. She could still feel her feet tingling and a strange tightness in her stomach as she walked away. I wonder if I could start a tickle fight with Kuroko next time I see her… Mikoto thought as she trudged off, her mind still all over the place from what she had just experiences. Unbeknownst to her, a pigtailed student with red ribbons in hair walked out of the room shortly after, smacking her lips together and clapping her hands together in girlish joy.                                             

“Now, wasn’t that fun, Onee-sama?” Kuroko said to herself cheerily, with a giggle. 

Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: nudity and sexual themes)

Ar Tonelico TK: The Gameshow


"Mmmmmm… five more minutes…” Misha Arsellec Lune muttered to herself sleepily, as she snoozed on the large soft bed. She could hear alarms blaring, presumably from the alarm clock on her bedside table, but she wasn’t quite ready to wake up just yet. The final five minutes in bed before you had to ‘officially’ get up were always the sweetest. She felt tried to curl up in a fetal position, but oddly she found she could not do so. Padded comforts bound her body in the eagle-spread position she had been slumbering in. Wait, what’s happening? Don’t tell me… not again… Misha thought, her eyes widening in fear. The light was bright in her room, and it didn’t feel like the normal brightness of dawn, either.

Suddenly the alarms echoing in her ears took on a more melodic quality, like the theme song of some game show. The lights shone a dozen different vibrant colours, and Misha closed her eyes in response to the light as her bedcovers fell to the ground. Her bed suddenly rose to a 90 degree right-angle, and suddenly it wasn’t a bed anymore… she was strapped to some kind of wheel! The wheel seemed to be made of the same plush material as her bed, but it was still a jarring and disorienting experience as the wheel spun a lazy, slow circle.

“Back by popular demand!” an eerily familiar voice boomed around the hall. “The one, the only…. Misha!”

When she blinked and got her head set on which way was up, she saw she was in a brightly-lit studio, the kind you might see live television shows at. Great, and it looks like I’m the ‘star’ of this one… Misha thought as she stared out at a sea of faceless people, all clapping and hollering with glee. She tried to yell out at the heckling audience, but she discovered a ball-gag had somehow appeared in her mouth without her noticing. The worst thing about dreams was how nothing seemed to make sense anymore. It was where anything goes!

She heard the applause and cheering reach its crescendo as a figure made its way to the stage. Despite the din, Misha could hear the clacking of high heels as the ‘host’ of this cruel game show appeared on the stage. Wearing tottering high heels, elegant dark silken stockings, an exposing crimson dress, and Misha’s face, she appeared. Even though it was just another one of her silly dreams, Misha couldn’t help but be impressed by how form-fitting the other Misha’s outfit was. She felt properly a peasant in her casual grey short shorts and white tank top, but hey, those were her pyjamas! You couldn’t sleep dressed like that! No one told her to dress for the occasion!

“Welcome one and all,” the other Misha grinned, bowing before speaking into the wireless microphone in her hand. “Welcome to the Wheel of Ticklish Fortune! Round and round she goes, where she stops, nobody knows! I’m your graceful host as always… the exhibitionist side of Misha,” she smiled, giving the audience her most winning smile as they roared their approval.

“And let’s give a big round of applause to our favourite contestant! She loves it so much she just had to come back for more!” the other Misha shouted, her voice trailing off as the audience cheered and whooped. Misha yelped denials into her gag, but she had to admit it wasn’t going too bad so far… the approving applause from the crowd was oddly heart-warming.

“Any final words before we begin?” the other Misha said with faux-friendliness as she brought the microphone in front of Misha’s face. Of course, with the gag in her mouth, Misha wasn’t able to produce more than a monosyllabic grunt.

“Poignant and beautiful words,” the other Misha laughed, as the crowd roared with laughter. “Without further ado… let’s begin! Let’s spin the wheel of mirth!”

With a powerful torque of her arm, the other Misha gave the wheel/bed Misha was strapped to an almighty spin. Ten dizzying rotations later, Misha felt the wheel come to a stop, her normally-tidy dark hair splayed in a dozen different directions as she hung upside down. She was suddenly aware of a large screen in the background behind the gameshow ‘host’. The audience was pointing and laughing at something on the electronic screen, and even upside down, Misha could make the large graphics the screen. It was a bundle of feathers. Misha’s stomach dropped.

“Aren’t you lucky? We get to start with your favourite feathers too!” the other Misha beamed, before turning around to shout at the audience. “Aren’t we lucky!”

“To remind any newcomers in the audience… if our contestant laughs before the end of the time limit,” the host pointed a varnished nail to the holographic screen, which has turned into a timer which was waiting to count down from ten minutes. “She forfeits a piece of clothing,” the other Misha’s grin was downright predatory.

“Now let’s play.”

The gag in Misha’s mouth had suddenly disappeared, but that was no cause for celebration as the other Misha prowled about, a pair of feathers in her merciless hands. With Misha’s whole body eagle-spread like this, there was a rich crop of ticklish spots to exploit, and Misha had no idea where the first attack would come. Her thin pyjamas provided a little bit of protection (and Misha did not want to lose them), but hanging upside down like this, her bare stomach was full on display.

The other Misha had crept behind the wheel/bed, so Misha could not see when or where she would be striking.

The other Misha seemed to read her mind (or perhaps she could?) and Misha shuddered as

Misha’s eyes scanned to and fro, before staring the timer. It had already been thirty seconds. What was the other Misha doing? Misha narrowed her eyes in confusion, and then forced them wide open in surprise when a silky-smooth feather stroked across her bare belly. Her whole abdomen shuddered as the feather lazily spun circles around her toned, milky-white stomach. The devilish feather drifted to the sides where it was joined by its twin. Misha clenched her eyes shut and tossed her head left and right as a pair of feathers danced up and down the sides of her rib cage. The feathers worked antagonistically, with one tracing up her right side while the other teased down her left. It was a tinkling sort of tickling that made her tummy spasm and twitch, but Misha was still biting down hard on her lower lip to keep herself with giggling.

“Does that tickle tickle tickle, Misha? Cootchie cootchi cooooo! You wouldn’t want to burst into laughter in front of all these people, would you?” the other Misha mocked, as the audience laughed at Misha’s torment. Their laughter echoing across the studio made it all the more harder to keep quiet.

And then as suddenly as the feathery assault on her poor stomach had started, the feathers pulled away, to leave Misha panting and breathing heavily. Keeping yourself from laughing was a lot easier than it looked.

Right when Misha was about to take another deep breath, a feather sneakily slid across the sole of her slender left foot, which was straight-up in the air due to Misha’s upside down pose. The suddent sensation caused Misha’s entire leg to jerk. At the same time, a vine snuck under Misha’s left knee, and began brushing against the sensitive skin against the back of her knee. Misha’s purple-pedicured toes scrunched and wiggled under this peculiarly-imbalanced assault. It felt so odd to have her left leg under feathery attack while her right foot remained untouched. The juxtaposition of sensations somehow made it worse as the feather licked up and down Misha’s soft, high arches, and slid and spun in between her bubble-like toes while the other feather teased the kneecap.

“Something wrong, Misha? Is leftie a little ticklish? Rightie feel left out, huh?”

Gritting her teeth, Misha shook her head, but the other Misha just chuckled, and introduced the feathers to the right left and foot too. It felt like Misha’s immaculate feet were tormented by a pair of roving feathers for hours, twirling through the impossibly-ticklish gaps between her prettily-pedicured toes one at a time, but when Misha’s teary eyes chanced a glance at the clock, she noticed she only had two more minutes left to endure.

“Looks like we’ve got a fierce competitor tonight, eh, folks?” the other Misha declared as she pulled her feathers away from Misha’s reddened soles, clearly unfazed by Misha’s defiance. “Time to bring out the big guns!”

The other Misha pulled on a pair of feather gloves. It made her look like she was wearing the claws of some ferocious wildebeest with her furry fingers. Misha gulped at the sight of those feathery gloves. The fur looked light and tickly, and the way the other Misha was wiggling them towards Misha’s hypersensitive underarms did not bode well at all.

“Can you hold out, Mishaaaaaa…” the other Misha teased. “This is gonna tickleeeeeee…. A lot…” she brought those dangerous fingers centimetres away from making contact with Misha’s smooth underarms before pulling away, loving the fear and trepidation in Misha’s dark-blue eyes and the way she would twist her head and impotently try to move her armpits away from the impending ticklish strike.

“Laugh for me, Misha. Show the world you’re just a weak, ticklish girl who loves being tickled,” the other Misha chuckled as she dug her fuzzy fingers in vigorously.

"Gahahaha, nohohohoho!" Misha squealed, all resistance demolished as she felt the furry fingers digging into her super-sensitive armpits.

“Trying to give me orders are you? Someone doesn’t understand this game…” mocked the other Misha, to the delight of the audience as she tickled even harder, till Misha was bursting into fits of silent laughter from laughing so hard.

“Who’s a ticklish girl? Who’s a silly ticklish girl? Tell me?” the other Misha demanded, as dug her fur-lined fingers in again and had them tracing uneven circles around Misha’s underarms. The slow, almost lazy circles she drug around the sensitive hollows of Misha’s tender armpits made Misha cackle till her laughter equalled the riotous laughter of the audience. Misha did not want to give her other self the satisfaction, but when one furry hand left her armpit to wiggle at her pale stomach, Misha found her pride ebbing away. The clock seemed to have stopped too. It seemed there was only one option left.

“I’m ahahahahahaha tihihihicklish gihihirl!” Misha cried, breathless with laughter.

“Hear that, folks? We’ve got a ticklish girl here! And you know what happens to ticklish little girls,” the other Misha grinned. “Rules are rules, and you won’t be needing this…”

Misha could do nothing but pant and gaps as the other Misha unhooked her bra, exposing her perky nipples to the world.

“After this quick commercial break, we’ll continue to the next round! Stay right here at, the Wheel of Ticklish Fortune!”


That didn’t last long… Misha thought despondently as no sooner had she caught her breath, the gameshow’s theme song came echoing across the room, signalling the game’s start.

“Welcome back folks! Let’s spin, spin, spin! And remember, no matter what happens, everybody wins!” the other Misha cheered, as she gave the wheel/bed another strong turn, and sent Misha spinning again. A dozen dizzying turns later, Misha found herself on her side, as if she was planking. It was more comfortable than being upside down with all the blood rushing to her head, but she did not like how her bare soles were pointed directly at the smirking gameshow host.

The colourful graphic on the screen cycled through a list of ominous looking tickle tools, before finally landing on a picture of a pair of sharp fingernails. Great…  

“Lucky, lucky… I know you love the hands-on approach,” the other Misha tittered, brandishing her long, varnished nails to the audience and giving the red-painted tips a threatening wiggle.

She wiggled her nails inches away from Misha’s underarms which had already undergone so much torment… “Wait for it… 3… 2… 1…” Misha closed her eyes as she heard the rowdy crowd chant in unison. “And go!” the other Misha cheered, as her claw-like nails struck.

To her surprise, the sharp fingernails avoided the inviting hollows of her underarms to launch a surprise attack on Misha’s toned stomach. The unexpected attack made laughter catch in her throat, but Misha choked the laughter down… she had to keep quiet… being topless was bad enough, but losing her shorts and her panties would be too much…

“Laugh for me… tickle slut… we all know you love it…” the other Misha said loudly, for all the audience to hear, as her fingers descended on the bare midriff, which now do not even have a thin tank top to protect it. Misha’s struggles began anew, although perhaps it was simply to take her mind off the tickling as she felt fiendish fingernails spider over her toned abdomen.

“It sure feels and looks like a ticklish tummy, eh, folks?” the other Misha cooed, as her manicured fingers slid around and over the quivering toned muscles. The sharp fingers caused jolting sensations, unlike the slithery feathery sensations of those blasted gloves, but equally unbearable in its own way. Misha was biting hard on he rlip, but she could still feel little splutters and giggles slipping through as the other Misha dug her savage nails in deeper, not leaving the smallest part of Misha’s sensitive stomach untormented.

After unleashing a ten fingered assault on Misha’s belly button that Misha feel like her lungs might explode from keeping the laughter in, the other Misha’s fingers began meandering along the ribcage and hips. It had been too difficult to keep the laughter in when it was just her stomach under attack, but with scattered strikes to her hips, ribs, sides, armpits, and tummy, the laughter could not be contained any longer.

“That’s the sound we love to see, ladies and gentleman! And she only lasted a paltry three minutes!” the other Misha cheered, as she rapidly went from a squeeze to the hips, a poke to the sides, and a tweak to the ribs to stoke Misha’s laughter even further till it came burbling out in a wild outpour of mirth.

“Anyone here want to play the ticklish piano?” the other Misha asked rhetorically, as she squeezed the ribs in rapid succession, her hands all aligned so it looked like she was playing the ticklish flesh like the keys of some magnificent orchestral instrument. “Sounds like we’re starting to hit the high notes!” the other Misha japed, as she steadily coaxed more and more laughter from her captive, with Misha’s laughter rising in pitch with each rib ‘played’. 

Misha closed her eyes and tossed her head from side to side as her upperbody was explored by those ruthless nails. Due to the way she was positioned on her wheel/bed, her left flank received the brunt of the tickling assault, but the other Misha took care to tease the right side to keep her on her toes. The tickling even crept down to tease her milky-white buttocks, which made her writhe even more frantically on her firm bondage. The spidering sensations made her bum juggle like she was doing some kind of exotic dance.

Misha’s eyes suddenly sprang open when the evil fingernails delved into the creamy hollows of her armpits again, but she made a horrific discovery as the other Misha began dragging her nails down to graze against the sides of her exposed, bare breasts.

A shocked gasp escaped Misha’s lips as the nails lightly teased the tender flesh. “Sounds like someone is enjoying herself, eh, folks?” the other Misha declared, with a laugh.

Misha hated her (herself?) so much right now. The tickling along her bare bosoms was almost pleasurable, but when reminded of all the people watching her, she could not allow herself to enjoy it. In explicably, it seemed to tickle even more as the other Misha’s digits teased and slide over her chest.

“Nohohhoho, I’m nahahahat!” Misha cried out indignantly, shaking her head in denial, but the other Misha simply snickered, and continued to trace her fingers trace around the perimeter of her breasts, as a flush crept down Misha’s neck.

“Is that right?” the other Misha giggled, as her tapered fingernails danced across Misha’s armpits, before trailing across the breasts all the way to the tips of those perky nipples. “Let’s see if we can prove her a liar, folks!” the other Misha vowed, as her sharp fingernails flick across the exposed nipples.

Misha’s whole body shuddered as she felt the fingers skitter slowly up and down her bare stomach once more, before flicking across her quickly hardening nipples once again. She closed her eyes, no longer caring about the judging eyes of the crowd. We cared what they thought? There was just the sensations… Misha squealed, her laughter half a moan as she felt long fingernails lightly, and so very slowly, tickle her rock hard nipples with spidering touches.

“Ohohohohoho, nohohoho!” Misha howled as the other Misha softly scratched the undersides of the breasts, delicately swirling her nails around the tender areolas.

“Oh yes!” the other Misha corrected, tickling even harder. The next few minutes dazed in a haze of ticklish sensations as Misha closed her eyes and blocked out the other Misha, the gameshow, the crowd, everything but the delicious sensations spiralling from her chest. When the buzzer that signified the end of the round rang, she was almost disappointed.

“Sounds like our contestant is more than ready for the next round,” the other Misha said, as she plucked off Misha’s shorts, revealing an incriminating spot of dampness around her womanhood. “And so are we!”          


“I know the lusty side of you will be delighted for what’s in store next…” the other Misha said with a wide grin as the spinning graphic on the screen landed at an ominous looking electrical device.

Misha gasped as her tormentress brandished a pair of the devices and brought them up to show Misha. When she saw the audacious look on the other Misha’s face, Misha could not help but quiver as she knew the fate that awaited her… yet somehow, the thought of being brought to orgasm by those cold, humming vibrators in front of this hungry audience and all these bright lights of this studio sent shivers down her spine, and a fresh trickle of arousal down her legs.

“Someone can’t wait…” the other Misha said, noticing Misha’s state (how could she not notice? She was her!) The vibrators, already turned on, dipped down towards her moist womanhood just for a moment.

Misha was torn between wanting her to pull away and keep going, and the other Misha was feasting on the emotions of the sensual ambivalence Misha felt towards the whole situation. “So I’m going to be mean and tease you a bit first…” the other Misha said, flashing a smile to the audience that was half-pander and half-malice.

The humming vibrators made contacts with Misha’s sensitive hips, one at each side, where the vibrations set off a different sort of reaction than what she had desired. Misha dimly wondered if the vibrators had a tickling setting, because they sure felt like they were designed to set her skin aflame with ticklish sensations the way they were stimulating ticklish skin with massage-like sensations. The laughter had come easily, unbidden this time. Her resistance had been broken from the second she felt that mind-melting trickle between her legs. Misha was already guffawing with laughter before the vibrators went down to tease her jiggling butt, to the audience’s delight. The vibrators then continued their torturous journey until they reach her sides, between her ribs and hips, where she let out a surprised, loud, ticklish squeak before she resumed her frenzied laughing. It felt almost like a massage as the devices roved over her rib cage, except Misha was laughing outrageously instead of cooing in ecstasy.

Misha had hoped that the vibrators might not tickle her feet that much, on account of the fact that the vibrators were a much more muscle-stimulating tickle than the scratchy-type of tickling that was so wickedly effective on her soles; of course, she was proven wrong. Unlike the pleasant foot massage that might have resulted from the sensations, the other Misha constantly worked the vibrating plastic head all over her slender, tantalizingly ticklish toes.

Then suddenly the savage tickling sensations at her pale, perfect soles disappeared, to be replaced with a pulsing warmth in her womanhood that rapidly spread throughout her body like a relaxing ray of sunlight.


One vibrator was spinning away at the tender flesh between her legs, but just as Misha closed her eyes to really enjoy it, she felt a sudden vibrating along her stomach. She burst out in confused laughter, her rampant ticklishness mixed in with stubborn arousal. There was an evil vibrator rummaging wildly around her ribcage and stomach again, while the friendly vibrator continued its sweet humming along her womanly area. She bit her lip and held back a giggly moan as she felt torn in two from these contrasting sensations.

“Do you like this, Misha? Are you turned on like crazy?” came the wicked voice of the other Misha. Misha looked at her cruel, grinning face, and at the leering audience behind her, and shook her head, repressing a squeal.

“Then I guess you won’t mind this then!” the other Misha cackled, as the friendly vibrator moved down to buzz about Misha’s squirming right foot, suddenly becoming not so friendly at all. The laughter exploded into frenzied giggles, with fewer and fewer lustful giggles interspersed in.

“Gahahahaha, stahahap stahahap!” Misha squeaked, twisting even more frantically in her bonds, her dark hair starting to cling to her face from her physical and sexual exertions.

“Oh, I’ll stop… Just tell us all the truth,” the other Misha said, waving a hand at the crowd, whose roars of delight were reaching their highest yet. “Tell us how much you love it! Tell us how much you want this! In front of everyone!”

Misha’s face felt so flushed, though whether it was from the harrowing tickling sensations bubbling inside her, or the insidious spike of lust that throbbed in her stomach she could not be sure. Confession such thoughts would be such humiliation… but the buffeting at her soles and stomach was just too much. How long would this darn dream last? Would this be the only way to make her dream end? Was she just trying to justify giving up? All these thoughts rampaged through her fatigued mind as the two nefarious instruments rampaged across her sensual, sensitive body. Every breathless squeak of laughter was pushing her towards surrender, and she could think of nothing else to do. Every agonizingly slow probe across her sole, every contact made against her toes, every flick across her arches made brought her closer to the edge. Every vibration along her hips and stomach pushed her over it.

“I hihihihihi lohohohohove it! I lahahahahave ihihihit all! Nohohohohoho mohohohohore!” Misha screamed, closing her eyes so she would not have to see the other Misha’s face twisted in triumph.

“No more? Don’t you want your reward…”

Misha’s lips parted as the vibrators slid to her crotch, vibing with such sweetness. The other Misha was a diabolical tease, like she always was; she only allowed the vibrators to make contact for two seconds a time before pulling away, and then returning a few seconds later. “Tell me what you want.”

Misha did not know what to say but the truth. “More…” she begged desperately. “I want more!”


And then she wake up in her bed, sheets tangled around her legs, and an inferno between her legs. Misha turned around, feeling the wetness as she moved, and groaned into her pillow. Why does it always end right before the good part…

Summer Commission Sale!

Journal Entry: Sat May 30, 2015, 5:39 PM
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In honour of all the flip flops and bare feet seen during summer time, I'm having a summer commission sale! For limited time only, I'll be accepting commissions for only 25 dollars for 3000-4000 words!

More commission info can be found here:
Opening Commissions Officially.Hi.
I've been doing commissions for a while now, but I've never made a proper journal about it, so I thought it was high time I got around to making a journal to let potential commissioners know about how I operate.
Usually how it works is we first agree on a price - my going rate is $30 for 4000-5000 words. If you want to commission me for multiple stories, then maybe we can talk about a package deal. In terms of payment, you pay half up front, and half when it is finished. Unfortunately, I don't accept points. 
Then you tell me what features you would like to see in the story - lee(s)/ler(s), tools, the situation/context, techniques, that sort of thing. I'm open to writing both /f or /m. I've done a variety of sadistic stories and light-hearted casual stories (check my gallery) with upper-body/feet focuses, so I'm alright with writing pretty much everything - You just need to be specific and state what you would like to see.
I don't charge more if you want multiple lees/ler

A sample commission info page might look like this.

Sample Commission Firstly, the general points. All characters will wear nylons since that is my preference. Tickling should focus primarily on the stockinged feet but other area are perfectly acceptable for variety. My favourite tickling implement is the feather, but again other implements are fine, as are fingers or even the tickler using their own feet as a weapon (nyloned of course). The nylons should not be torn off at any point.
Even though some of the scenes will feature interrogation type scenarios, I prefer the tickling to be reasonably playful. I enjoy dialogue and teasing.
Feel free to use as much Star Wars lore, locations, creatures as you see fit. You know far better than I that such things have a huge impact on bringing a story to life. Feathers from Star Wars creatures would make sense. Tickle bots, creatures, plants etc can be used as long as there is still a 'direct' tickling element. For example, the Endor scene could involve a tickling plant but Leia should still be feathered directly

Have a lovely summer, all! Note me if you have any further queries.

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Commander Celeste of the Paxim bristled with fury as she descended onto the ruined city. It was one thing to lose in battle to the fearsome Boudo horde, or to the shrewd Faen scientists, but to lose to the incompetent Maen forces? To lose to the guys known throughout the galaxy as ‘sand people’ because of their brown skin and the fact it was so repel their wimpy, poorly structured attacks?

Today the Maen would be shown the unique Paxim combination of elegance and ferocity. Celeste caught her reflection in the cracked window panel of an abandoned store. Celeste thought she might have been a little biased, but she felt it was fair to say that today she was dressed to kill. She wore yellow ankle boots that matched her golden hair, black military-issue nylon stockings, a matching mini-skirt and a black lacy top embroided with Paxim sigils. She had the newest Paxim technological toy at her hip – a tickle-whip that was equally capable of delivering ticklish strikes as it was immobilizing foes.

There was a scheduled meeting with a Maen negotiator in a few hours, and Celeste was looking forward to showing them Paxim bureaucracy in action. She smiled and wiggled her fingers, admiring the way her golden nails caught in the light. She was looking forward to expressing her terms in precise, exquisite detail.   

The Maen Empire had overstepped their boundaries by invading Paxim territory… and even if the Maen had won the first battle, Celeste was going to show them that did not mean they would win the war.


“Hello, negotiator. I hope you are sitting comfortably,” Celeste smiled. At first glance, it might seem like she playing the part of the gracious host, but the reality was far from it. Celeste and the negotiator were seated in a plush conference room that had been untouched by the fighting. The interior design was truly remarkable, with its beautifully-crafted wooden tables, oil-paintings and assorted pottery collection, but one’s attention was most drawn to the eagle-spread Timaeus negotiator who was bound to the long wooden conference table.

“Is this what you call Paxim diplomacy?” the dark-haired, copper-skinned Timaeus woman spat as she writhed in her bonds. “I came under a peace banner!”

“We don’t negotiate with lower life-forms,” Celeste said, her head raised high. “And I tire of that screechy, nagging voice of yours. Gag her.”

The indignant negotiator continued to spout obscenities as a pair of colourfully-haired Paxim soldiers forcibly inserted a plastic ball gag into the squirming negotiator’s mouth.

“Now, I said we don’t negotiate, but we do have terms for you,” Celeste said, giving the gagged negotiator her sweetest Paxim smile. In any other scenario, her smile would have been an alluring sight, but today it was tinged with venom. One saw no warmth in her smile, only teeth.

“Let’s give you our terms, shall we? And don’t worry… we know the Timaeus aren’t the brightest of races, so we’ll helpfully be writing this all down for you. We are so kind, aren’t we?” Celeste chuckled, as she snapped her fingers and her attendants stripped away the negotiator’s sandy brown robes with their proud Maen sigil. The negotiator’s grunts took on an even more aggrieved tone as the reduced her to her undergarments. The Paxim attendants giggled and turned up her nose at the sight of those hideously unfashionable things, as they re-did the straps that bounding the red-faced Timaeus to the table. The negotiator’s arms grew wide as the Paxim attendants took out marker pens and uncapped them in front of her.

“Down to business. I have a few things to say about the Maen Empire…” Celeste began, letting her contempt creep into her words. She pointed at the negotiator’s neck, and her attendants immediately understand the significance. “Your people are worthless, inept, cowardly, yet vain, and think to usurp from your betters.” As Celeste spoke, the two attendants etched the insults along the neck of the bound negotiator with their pens. The scratchy feel of the marker was clearly having a ticklish effect on the woman, as she wailed and giggled as the markers probed along her skin. “It is a testament to the stupidity of your people to send you out here like this. What did you think would happen? We would just let you encroach on our territory, just like that?” Celeste chided, as the markers worked tirelessly, writing the offending comments on the negotiator’s pronounced collarbones, which based on her wiggling which almost upset the writing of the negotiators’, were quite ticklish.

“You stay still, you,” Celeste ordered, poking at the negotiator’s side. “If you smudge their writing, we’re going to brush you clean and start all over again,” she said, with a cruel smile as the Timaeus woman’s brown eyes widened in shock. “Let me take a look,” Celeste said, as the attendants stepped back so Celeste could admire their handiwork. “Excellent penmanship,” she grinned, as she drew her long, varnished nails along the woman’s neck and collarbones, making the negotiator squirm and grunt giggles into the gag.

“Now where was I?” Celeste pondered, as she continued to tease those protruding collarbones with the tips of her nails. “Ahh, yes. The Timaeus shall leave our lands, and reimburse us for all the damages,” Celeste pointed at the negotiator’s taut, hairless underarms, and the attendants instantly began scribbling away in them. “You will pay for the damages done to the cities, buildings, local businesses, historical relics, natural landscape, and… people,” Celeste said, as her attendants dutifully wrote each detail in the hollows of the negotiator’s quivering armpits.

The suppressed howling became more apparent, which Celeste interpreted as a question regarding price. “How much you ask? An excellent question… I would say… 500,000 galactic credits for the damage to infrastructure… perhaps 200,000 to rebuild our city hall…” she rattled off a list of repayments, and the attendants continued to scratch every minute detail into those ticklish brown armpits till they were filled from tricep to upper rib in writing.

“My people will not be satisfied with simply monetary repayments though… we will also require some… public service for your crimes,” Celeste said, smiling at the sight of the negotiator’s simply bra, which was promptly plucked off. The Timaeus had been enjoying the tickling more than she let on, based on the perkiness of the nipple, though her panicked barks of laughter as the two Paxim attendants scribbled the public punishment all the leading Timaeus commanders would have to undergo.

By the time the two Paxim attendants had finished listing out the precise details of the public tickling humiliation the Timaeus would have to tolerate, moans were audibly heard through the gag.

“I think she’s enjoying these negotiations too much,” Celeste chuckled. “Let’s write the new map of territories on her stomach, shall we? Let’s see how she likes that…”

After the map had been finished and illustrated in meticulous detail, with the attendants even producing paintbrushes to paint the mountains and seas, the negotiator was a flustered mess. A flustered mess with a painting on her muscular abdomen, but a flustered mess nonetheless.

“Remove her gag,” Celeste commanded. “Do you know why we are doing this to you?”

“To… send… a message,” the negotiator spat, as she panted for breathe. The gag had been interfering with her breathing.

“Actually, that’s kind of close,” Celeste said as she snapped her fingers, and the negotiator’s bonds were unhooked from the tables. “What message do you think it would be?”

“Not to fuck with you guys,” the negotiator grunted, as she rubbed her wrists and stood up.

“Do you think your Empress will listen to you?” Celeste asked, stroking her chin.

There was a tense silence in the room as all eyes turned to the negotiator, who gulped nervously. Sweat was beading down her brown and down her bare brown back.

“No…” the negotiator said reluctantly. “They will retaliate in force.”

“Bingo,” Celeste clapped, and in a flash, the negotiator was pushed back on the table. This time they tied her on her stomach so her ample rump was visible to all. One of the attendants brandished a pair of scissors, and carefully snipped away the negotiator’s underwear, so her tanned buttocks were on full display.

“We’re doing this to send a message… and also because this is incredibly fun. It also gives us an opportunity to flex our creative side. Isn’t that right, girls?”

The smirking Paxim attendants nodded. “Now let’s write down a few personal messages to your Empress…” Celeste said, as she tested out the negotiator’s ticklishness on her feet by giving a quick scribbling right in the middle of the right sole. The negotiator squeaked, and tried to squirm free as the attendants fixed the gag back in her mouth but it was no use.

“Go write some heartfelt messages on those wiggling Timaeus toes of hers, I want to see that rump dance for me!” Celeste giggled, as she picked up a feather and began twirling it along the negotiator’s amble behind. Clearly a nice butt had been in the job description of Timaeus negotiator.

The attendants sat down on the negotiator’s calves so the jiggling would not disrupt their work, held the sole firmly with one and set to scrawling. The negotiator’s ticklish feet were property of the Paxim, and there was nothing she could do about it. The Paxim attendants were embracing the opportunity to show off their creative, as they sketched various silly images and wrote multiple mocking phrases such as "Super ticklish spot here", "I'm a ticklish little negotiator", and "Paxim property" in any piece of open skin they could find on the poor, defenceless feet.

All the while, those accursed pens tormented her brown feet, and the feather dancing over her rump drove her to a special kind of agony. Soon tears of ticklish agony were rolling down your cheeks.

“Regretting it, aren’t you? Hopefully before long, all your people will be regretting invading our territory too…” Celeste said, her voice cold and cruel. “Let’s continue till she passes out, girls. Let’s see this famed Maen perseverance.” 


“I don’t know what they were expecting,” Centurion Aelia said smugly. The proud Timaeus leader was surveying the field, as she watching a parade of coloured Paxim troopers throw down their weapons and run. The Timaeus had used the same tactic the Hattori had taught them – feign weakness, lure the foes in deeper, and then strike back. The tactic had gone off flawlessly again, Aelia was pleased to see, as a breeze whipped her braided black hair to and fro.

They had captured a few of the Paxim stragglers, and Aelia’s right hand came jogging up to report. “Caelia, you bring good word, I trust?”

“Another victory for the Maen Empire,” Aelia’s sister replied. Caelia was a negotiator by trade, but she had begged leave from the Empress to be allowed to participate in this counter-raid. She had not enjoyed her time under Paxim ‘hospitality’. Her neck still had marks from the obscene writings those Paxim brats had scrawled onto her skin, though most were covered by her tunic.  

“There’s not much in the way of resistance. You might as well find some blonde to take out your frustrations on,” Aelia offered, with a chuckle. Her sister had mentioned the woman in charge was a yellow-haired shrew, so Aelia thought it might be quite therapeutic if she could tickle some flaxen-haired Paxim wench for a few fun hours. “In fact, I found someone you might like the look of…” Aelia said, as she gestured towards a redheaded Paxim soldier who sat with her ankles and wrists bound. Her coat had been removed, so she sat there in her tiny mini-skirt and crop top which exposes a hint of a cute white belly.

“One of the lovely attendants who had so much fun tormenting me,” Caelia gasped, a smile blossoming on her face. “Oh sister, you shouldn’t have!” she cried, giving Aelia a quick hug.

“I know… I’m amazing”, Aelia said, sounding more like her sister than her superior. “Now have your fun and get back here later. We might need you,” Aelia switched back, sounding stern.

“Might?” Caelia scoffed. “The battle is over and done. Now let me enjoy the spoils of war!”

Caelia strutted her way over to the crimson-haired Paxim attendant. She recognized the bold shade of red of the attendant’s elegantly curled hair in an instant. Caelia dimly wondered for a moment how the Paxim possibly conceived such a psychedelic shade of red would possibly be appropriate for the battlefield. It damn sure made stealth impossible, with hair that bright!

“Remember me?” Caelia said by way of greeting, as she pulled up her tunic, to reveal the painted map stretched over her taut abdomens.

“The ticklish negotiator,” the attendant said, in a tone that lacked enough fear and respect for Caelia case.

“That’s not my name, Paxim scum,” Caelia growled.

“And my name’s not Paxim scum,” the Paxim attendant said, with a mischievous smile.

“Then what is your name, prisoner?”

“Mars,” the attendant said. She turned her head cheekily. “Are you going to ask me on a date? Do you want me to show you how to do your hair and your nails?”

“You’re a disgrace to any honest soldier,” Caelia grunted, as she drew her tickle-dagger from her belt.

“What would the Maen know of honest soldiers? You won using dishonest tactics before, and that’s how you won today. Don’t preach to me about honour, you sanctimonious little slop.”

“I don’t know what sanctimonious means, but I’m betting it’s not good.” Caelia said, as she gestured at a pair of Timaeus soldiers walking past, and after a quick word, they passed her a pair of tickle-sabers.

“You’ll be ‘negotiating with our commander again before long,” Mars threatened.

“You’re all talk, Paxim. And I had enough of your yapping in that negotiations room. I’ll give you a chance to win your freedom,” Caelia leaned forward with the tickle-saber, and fried Mars’s ankles. Her wrists however, remained tied together in front of her, where she received a tickle-saber.

“I won’t tie you down. I’ll actually give you a fighting chance,” Caelia smiled, as she brandished her tickle-saber in hand.

“My wrists are still tied… how’s that for fairness?” Mars sneered.

“I’d call that home court advantage. Engarde!” Caelia said, as she slashed at the Paxim’s midsection. The unexpected strike landed a solid burst of ticklish sensations on the exposed milky-white skin on the Paxim’s stomach.

“Gahahaha, you cheater!” Mars half-giggled, as she made a clumsy swipe with her blade. The first blade soared over Caelia’s head, and Caelia interposed her blade to meet the second strike.

“You’re not strong enough, Paxim!” Caelia laughed mockingly, as she pushed forward till the smaller Paxim’s back was pushed against a tree. Using all her body weight, to press down on the sword, Caelia darted out with her other hand, and began to stroke a ticklish path across that alluring Paxim stomach.

Caelia could feel Mars quivering beneath her as the Paxim tried to slip free, but Caelia pushed her body closer against her, to pin Mars firmly against the firm oak.

“What’s wrong? Ticklish tummy?” Caelia mocked as she danced her fingers playfully around the belly, bringing forth more snickering and wriggling from the redheaded Paxim. "Ticklish tummy?"

“Nohohohoho, stahahap!” Mars begged, trying even harder to dislodge the saber that kept her pinned to the tree, but she wasn’t strong enough. She could not move away without sacrificing her blade.

“Then too bad…” Caelia chuckled, as she plunged a finger into Mars’s bellybutton. The trapped girl squirmed even harder as she felt Caelia’s rough hand poke and pinch at her exposed belly. “Typical Paxim… without your toys and your buddies, you’re useless.”

“Grrrrrahahaha!” Mars suddenly howled, half-wild with laughter, as she dropped her sword and suddenly pounced at the negotiator.  Ten nails suddenly rippled across Caelia’s belly to her sides, and then back again. Screaming with surprise, Caelia thrashed and arched her back to escape, but there were no avoiding Mars’s ticklish advances when she was so close. Caelia tried to swing her sword, but it become impossible when Mars’s long crimson-red fingernails migrated to Caelia’s underarms.

Deciding to use her foe’s tactic against her, Caelia too dropped her sword and rammed headlong into her Paxim opponent. They both went tumbling to the ground, in a mess of branches of leaves. They grappled for a while on the ground, but still having her wrists bound, Mars was at a severe disadvantage. A few disorienting pokes to her sides and ribs and Caelia swooped for the kill.

Two strong Timaeus hands plunged into Mars’s armpits from behind, fierce fingers wriggling. The Paxim shrieked, her fatigued body out of energy from the struggles as her knees buckled and she fell forwards. Mars fell face first to the ground, and seizing the opportunity, Caelia straddled her back, all the while still using her hands to weave into those ticklish Paxim armpits. After a few moments of resistance-crushing underarm tickling, Caelia slid down to Mars’s calves and pulled off the Paxim’s high-heeled boots. With Long fingernails gliding up and down her pedicured, flawless Paxim soles, Mars was laughing too hard to do anything but wiggle those pretty red-painted toes of hers.

She was so preoccupied with tickling the milky-white soles in front of her that she did not even realize what was going on around her. It wasn’t till she realized that the laughter all around her was too loud and frantic to just be Mars’s that she saw that something was amiss. Caelia’s grasp on the Paxim sole slackened, and Mars pulled her foot away, now slightly reddened from the tickling. Caelia’s mouth gaped open as she saw Paxim cavalry swooping through the streets of the city.

The tide had turned, Caelia realized with a sense of dread. Mars’s laughter suddenly sounded a lot less mirthful and a lot more menacing.


Commander Celeste could not believe they had really been so gullible. Did they think they had copyrighted the tactic or something? Celeste had to confess – the Paxim were brilliant military minds when it comes to accessorizing, and how to look good when using their fancy toys, but they were not renowned for their tactical brilliance.

Aware of this, Celeste had suggested a tactic that was excellent precisely because it was so unthinkably simple. The Paxim would incorporate the Maen’s own tactics against them. They fought fake a desperate strike, then quickly retreat upon receiving resistance. When the one-time defenders turned to pursue, the fleeing army would regroup (with reinforcements lurking nearby) and smash the new attackers. Part of the reason it had worked today was probably because the Maen Empire must have thought there was nobody who would be that stupid – who would be dumb enough to use a gimmicky tactic like that against the guys who had been the first ones to use it? But the Paxim had done it, and it had worked. There was no way in hell it would work a third-time, barring a crazy double-bluff (there’s no way they would do it a second time… would they?) but the fact that it worked today was more than enough.

Celeste surveyed the battlefield, whip in hand, and her multi-coloured honour guard at her heels. Everywhere she saw explosions of colour. Mostly Paxim squads maneuvering to launch their devastating tickle blasts from their weapons, but she noticed pockets of resistance too. Brown figures moving like mud against the colourful rainbow garb of the Paxim crusaders.  

The Paxim Commander made a beeline to the main Maen encampment, snapping her whip at any Timaeus interlopers who tried to take a shot at the proud leader of the Paxims. A howling Timaeus trooper with ragged brown hair that looked like she cut it herself feel to a shot to her ticklish knees, and a few ticklish licks from Celeste’s whip had her mewling like a kitten, as Celeste’s honour guard ensured the sand woman was out for the count.

The bloodied Paxims rapidly arrived at the main host of the Maen Empire. Much of the battle was a clamber of confusion and chaos. Explosions of colour and movement where everywhere, so Celeste was having difficulty recognizing her target – she knew the Maen Empire was founded of figureheads, and once she dealt with their leader, they would scatter like the sand people that they were. She wanted to deal with this quickly. She had better things to do.

“Centurion!” Celeste yelled, over the laughter and din of battle. “Centurion! Where are you? I, Commander Celeste, challenge you to a duel!”

Unfortunately, being the uncivilized savages that they were, the Timaeus fighters were too preoccupied with fighting to pay heed to Celeste’s words. Celeste had to do the undignified task of searching for her foe herself – she assigned her honour guard to keep an eye out for the Centurion’s distinctive armour, but it was still a tedious task when she finally came upon the Maen leader for this operation.

The armour certainly looked like the markings of a Centurion, or at least someone somewhat important, though as was typical for the Maen, the woman wearing the armour did not look like much. “Please tell me you are the Centurion in charge of you Timaeus dogs,” Celeste said in a bored tone. She had asked this question about twenty times in the past thirty minutes, and it was getting very repetitive.

“You must be Celeste. My name is Centurion Aelia. You tickled my sister. Prepare to laugh,” Centurion Aelia growled.


Upon closer inspection, the resemblance was quite uncanny, Celeste had to admit. Aelia had the same ‘tickle me silly’ face as her negotiator sister. They both had the same insolent high cheekbones and curvaceous body. Aelia looked like had already been whisked around the maelstrom of battle a few times – her outfit was torn, though the Centurion’s crest on her chest was still clearly visibly. She had lost her sandals, exposing a pair of brown feet that Celeste was curious to discover if they would be ticklish in the same spots as her sister.

Unfortunately, it was as Celeste was admiring those brown bare feet that they suddenly moved – the feet dug into the loose sand and grit on the floor and kicked up, sending dirt right into Celeste’s pristine face!

Spluttering with indignation, Celeste cracked her whip, but with dust in her eyes, her aim was off, as Aelia tackled her with surprising strength. Celeste landed on her back, with Aelia’s rough fingers digging into her sides to take her breath away. Celeste could feel tears forming in her eyes as fingers teased her tummy. She looked up and saw her honour guard were busy with Aelia’s own – it looked like she would get no reinforcements. Celeste tried to flick her wrist and use her whip, but with lightning-quick reflexes, a grimacing Aelia caught the whip in her hand, and quickly twisted it around Celeste’s own wrists till her arms were tired with her own weapon!

And then, with monkeyish dexterity, Aelia shifted her position, turning her back on the panting Paxim warrior and sat on her chest. Celeste grit her teeth as she felt the rough fingertips of the Timaeus centurion pull up her shirt to brush along her stomach once more.

“I saw you staring at my feet just now… how do you like them now?” Aelia said cryptically, but the answer was quickly apparent.

Celeste’s whole body jolted as if she had been electrified – instead of an attack on her toned midsection, Aelia had pressed her slender, brown toes against her armpits. They jabbed and prodded as roving fingernails continued to torment her stomach.

“No one tickles my sister and gets away with it… aside from me!” Aelia grinned, as she dipped a finger into Celeste’s pierced belly button while her toes continued their frenzied poking in those immaculate underarms.

Celeste made an attempt to tickle the feet that were tormenting her in this two pronged attack, but due to her squirming and the way her wrists were tied, she could not do more than land occasional glancing strokes, which was nothing compared to the ticklish onslaught her stomach and underarms were receiving. Aelia was even beginning to delve lower, and tweak Celeste’s knees and squeeze along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

The worst part was those damned slender toes of hers. They were ugly things, without nail polish, but damn, were they effective. They kept Celeste firmly on the defensive, and whenever Celeste tried to wiggle away by twisting her body to one side, the increased pressure from a foot in an armpit would steer her back onto her back.

So Celeste did the only thing she could think to do. She hooked her bound wrists around a bare brown foot, twisted to the side, and tickled as ferociously as she could. The sudden onslaught of ticklish sensations must have taken Aelia by surprise, as the relentless attacks to Celeste’s mid-section ceased for a moment, but only for a moment.

Hearing growls intermingled with giggles, Celeste felt Aelia latch around her ankle, and rip off her beautiful high boots. Her uncouth fingers were running down Celeste’s perfectly pedicured foot as the two warriors fought in an endurance tickling match, both of them refusing to surrender to the other foe. It was a battle that might have gone on forever – two devoted fighters selflessly sacrificing them for victory… if one of Celeste’s honour guard hadn’t shot Aelia in the back after hearing her commander’s squeal.


“You know, I am genuinely sorry for how our battle ended, it should not have ended like that,” Celeste said, in the Paxim dungeons. A naked Aelia lay before her, in a seated position with her feet set in stocks and her arms stretched over her head, howling with laughter.

In the dungeon room adjacent to her, Caelia was eagle-spread across a table, being seen to by a quintet of Paxim attendants, including Mars, who seemed to be particularly relishing her task. Caelia’s treatment this time was of the orgasmic denial variety, which Celeste had always personally felt was even worse than a straight-up tickle torture session because of its ambivalence. A Paxim lapping at each foot, while another pair of Paxim lapped at her sides and stomach, where the paint from before was still faintly visible. A final Paxim was using a stiff feather to lightly tease Caelia’s womanhood, enough to set her aflame with lust, but not enough to make anything of it. Every minute they would switch from tongues to tools, and a moaning Caelia would suddenly shriek as combs and hairbrushes raked over her brown soles and feathers danced on her abdomen. And Celeste knew better than anybody that once the tickling tap was turned on, it was impossible to turn it off.

“I mean, I’m glad my sister-in-arms stepped in. I guess that makes my sister better than yours?” Celeste asked, though Aelia was laughing far too hard to response. Aelia had all the tickling torment and none of the erotic enjoyment, as stiff hairbrushes raked over her soles and evil painted fingernails tickled all over her body.

“So how’s this for a deal… you tell me what I want to know, and the tickling…”Celeste brushed her finger along Aelia’s bronzed inner thigh. “Does not have to be quite so torturous. I’ll give you some time to think it over…”




Do you prefer upperbody or lowerbody (feet) tickling? 

71 deviants said Lowerbody
33 deviants said Upperbody


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TicklishAndInLove Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2015  Professional Writer
Thanks so much for the watch!thank u 
HyperEidos Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Someone needs to commision you to do a GoT tickle story <3
I'm surprised there aren't more stories aside from chentsweatervest's stories.

Though I saw your Margery/Sansa comission for BadPierrot~
oneortheother Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2015
Ikr? That person could always be you though. I am on my summer writing spree!

I'm a huge fan of the chentsweatervest stories, and it's a real shame he hasn't been writing recently. Writer's block is cruel and all that :P As for other GoT tk stories, I've read a few Joff/Sansa tickling stories, but that seems to be it ):

I really love how that pic came out. Sansa is adorably defiant while Marg is almost inviting the tickles.  
HyperEidos Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Meh I wish, I'm broke XD

Yeah, I've been trying to finish a commision for a really dear friend and I've been at an all-time low for writing :P
I'm more of an f/f fan... Plus Joff is a jerk...
Margarey having some teasing fun with a tied up Sansa, now THAT would be a great story~

Love the way Sansa tries to hide her foot~
Landauer1990 Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2015
Just read your comment to chentsweatervest's GoT tickle story, which makes me wonder:
Will you ever do an ASoIaF or a GoT tickle story yourself?
oneortheother Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2015
I miss his stories </3

And hmmm, it is a possibility. I wouldn't rule it out. Perhaps if I was commissioned to do one. Just too busy with commissions and other stuff these days :P
Sunking88 Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2014
Happy Birthday
oneortheother Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015
MtkMichele Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday! ;)
oneortheother Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015
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