Girls Day Out
Chely Wright walked up to the front door at Lee Ann Womack's house. She, Lee Ann, and Lari White had plan to go shopping together. Chely had never been shopping with them before, but knew that Lee Ann was always a lot of fun, and figured that this would be fun.
Lee Ann answered the door and invited Chely in. Lari was already there, sitting on the couch. She looked good, too. She was wearing a teal, velvet top, and black jeans, with jet black pantyhose and high heel pumps. Lee Ann was wearing a short red skirt, and a white sleeveless top, with tan pantyhose and white knee-high boots. Chely wasn't no slouch, either, wearing a denim short-skirt, and a white silk blouse, black tights and black ankle boots. They were excited about the shopping. They were going to buy a bunch of stuff for the local shelter.
Just then the doorbell rang.
Lee Ann went to answer it. When she opened it, a man in a black facemask stood on the porch. Before she knew what was happening, he pushed an electric shock gun into her and put her out like a light. The other girls heard the commotion, but didn't think anything of it. They stood, looking out the back window at Lee Ann's beautiful garden. Neither knew what hit them. He came from behind, and with two electric shock guns, put them each out.
They were all out for about two hours. Lee Ann was the first to wake. She could not see, because she had been blindfolded, but she could tell that she was in a dark, damp room, perhaps a basement or cellar. She tried to move her hands, but they we bound securely above her head by leather straps, fastened to a tall post which she sat against. Her feet were straight out in front of her. Her boots had been removed, and one foot was strapped to each side of a low, wooden table or sorts. Her knees were also bound to the table, and a strap went around her waist to hold her securely in place.
She pulled an struggled against the restraints, but their grip was firm, and she could not break free. She screamed, but the room was soundproofed, so no one could hear her.
Chely was in another soundproof room in the same basement, and when she came to she realize her predicament. She was blindfolded and suspended in midair. Her arms were pulled up over and behind her head, and held by a set of leather cuffs. Her feet had been pulled up behind her head, and were held in a similiar set of leather cuffs. A rope fastened across her midsection, was tied through a ring in the floor, and kept her from being able to pull herself up. She hung there, almost in the shape of an "O". She tried to scream, but in her position, it was hard to get a big enough breath to make much noise.
Lari was in a third soundproof room in the same basement. She awakened and quickly realized that she'd been blindfolded. She tried to bring a hand to her face, but she had been fastened to a rack. Her feet and wrists held in place by steel cuffs. She struggled, trying to free herself, but to no avail. Then she cut loose with a horribly agonizing cry. It was not heard.
Lee Ann was still struggling to free herself, when she heard the door to her room open.
"Who are you?" She demanded. "What are you doing to me?"
"Quiet," the voice said. "You don't need to waste your energy talking, right now."
She was quiet. A moment later, he spoke again.
"I am The Tickle King, this won't take long, and you'll be back home, good as new."
"What are you going to do?"
She didn't have to wait for an answer. She heard him walk around behind her. He had a feather in each hand, and he began wiggling them in her armpits. She surged against the restraints, trying not to laugh.
"Don't do that. That tickles."
He continued, unrelenting. Soon, she could hold back no more.
She shook and twisted, and struggled trying to escape the reach of the feathers, but she could not budge. She laughed insanely, as the feathers roamed up and down her arms, and into her armpits again and again.
She was fighting for all she could, to try and escape the feathers, but they just kept on tickling. Lee Ann was very ticklish on her armpits, but she knew soon he would go to her ribs, and she would explode.
After about ten minutes of torturing her with the feathers, he put them down.
He pulled her shirt up enough to expose her ribs, and tied a little knot in it to keep it from slipping down. He dug into her ribs with his big fingers. She exploded into insanely violent laughter.
He went up and down her tummy, and over to her sides, and made sure not to stay in the same place for more than a few seconds at a time. The element of suprise made this form of tickle torture much more torturesome. She couldn't see where he was going next. All she could do was wait for him to hit the next spot. This made ticklish spots out of spots that might not have been ticklish before.
She was jerking back and forth, bucking violently against the restraints, using every fraction of an inch that she could move to try and escape the massive, inescapable hands of the tickle king.
After about ten minutes there, he stopped, and walked to the foot of the table. There, Lee Ann's helpless feet extended beyond the edge of the table, and too far apart to cover each other up. The Tickle King liked the way her feet looked in the tan pantyhose. Lee Ann had small, beautiful feet.
He hesitated no more. He began stroking the bottoms of her feet with his fingers that were well practiced in the art of foot tickling. She held back for a minute, but soon was laughing in full swing again. She never realized her feet were so ticklish. She tried to pull them away, but the straps held them firmly in place.
She was getting tired, now, from laughing so much. She feared that she would die of exhaustion, though she was really nowhere near exhaustion.
The exerienced fingers continued torturing her helpless soles for several minutes. Then he used on hand to pull back the toes on one foot, and then began probing his fingers down into her toes. The pitch of her laughter jumped an octave when he did this.
Lee Ann had an epiphany there. She didn't know she could hit that note. She quickly forgot about it as the fingers continued to do there work.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to her, he stopped, and left the room.
Lari heard the door open, and screamed again.
The man who walked in just laughed at her.
"Who are you?" Lari asked.
"I am The Tickle King."
She felt horror fill her veins. The name "Tickle King" could only mean one thing.
She found out quickly as she felt her velvet top being pulled up, exposing her ribs, bra, and underarms. He began poking her ribs, as if he was a child poking an animal. He soon increase the speed and intensity of his probing. Lari was too ticklish to hold it in for more than a few seconds.
She had been the most ticklish person in her family, and she had never been able to outgrow her childhood ticklishness. Most of her friends had outgrown it, and though they were still ticklish, they didn't laugh like a child when tickled, as Lari did.
He acted as if he didn't hear her. Instead, he began moving faster, cover every part of her tummy, ribs, and underarms. He would spend about half his time digging into her ribs and tummy, inflicting the kind of torture that cause the laughing that makes one's stomach hurt. Then he'd work his way up to her armpits, and wiggle his fingers in them, causing her to buck even more violently than when he tickled her ribs.
He like her childish ticklishness. It made him feel as if he was tickling a child.
She struggled and pulled violently against the restraints, and then he stopped.
She heard him walk to the back corner of the contraption. Then she heard gears grinding, and felt herself being stretched. She tried to fight against it, but the machine was too strong, and she was soon stretched as tight as she could be stretched without it being painful.
Then he lit back into her ribs. She exploded with the most outrageous laughter he had ever heard. Tightening the rack had opened up her ribs and the tightness would make her much more ticklish, because there was no way to scrunch or flex her muscles.
She had never been tickled with such intensity before. One thing was certain. This man knew how to tickle. He reverted back to her armpits, which we now more ticklish since they had been stretched. She continued to strain and thrash against the steel chains that held her to the rack. After torturing her like that for about twenty minutes, he walked to the foot of the rack.
He pulled her high-heels off, one helpless foot at a time. He began running his fingers up the black nylon clad feet, and she was soon shaking the room with monstrous laughter again.
She scrunched and wiggled her feet, doing everything she could to avoid the tickling or make it seem less. It was a difficult thing to do, because his experience hands managed to follow every move she made. When she scrunched her feet, he'd tickled the tops of them, which would cause her to open them back up again. After a few minutes of playing this game, he grabbed the toes of her left foot with his right hand, and pulled them back. He began violently dragging his fingers along the sole of the foot, and then digging them in under the toes.
She jerked and lugged at the restraints, but she could not escape the massive, tickling hands of the Tickle King.
He tortured her feet for about ten minutes, and then got up and left the room.
Chely heard the door open, and began struggling, but there wasn't much struggling she could do, for she could scarcely move. She position she was in made movement almost impossible.
"What's going on?" She spat out.
"You're soon to be tested by The Tickle King," the man said.
"The Tickle King?" She said.
She heard him sit down in a chair that was, apparently, directly underneath her. Her helpless, protruding ribs hung just above his head, and the only thing that separated them, was that thin silk shirt.
She heard him get back up, and walk around behind her. He took off her ankle boots, one at a time, and began tickling her feet through the black tights. She started giggling, trying not to laugh. Soon, his sadisticly monotonous sole torture brought her to laughter.
She tried to move, but there was no move she could make. It seemed as if every muscle in her body was held in place. She tried to pull up, but the rope that held her to the ground was tight, and showed now signs of relenting.
He continued to drag his fingers up and down the soles of her feet, as she hung there helplessly, laughing. It's a pretty scary thing, she thought to herself, when you're hanging upside down and someone's relentlessly tickling you, and the only thing you can do in your defense is laugh.
He worked on her feet for nearly fifteen minutes. This one might get a little more than the other two, he thought, because he liked her outfit the most. He also knew that once he started tickling her ribs, he probably wouldn't be able to stop until she was unconscious.
After he finished torturing her feet, he went and sat again in the chair under her ribs, for a few seconds, before getting up again. Just the sound of him sitting there, was driving her crazy, because she knew what would come sooner or later.
He unbuttoned her shirt, and stuck his hands up under her armpits. He began wiggling his fingers up and down and around her armpits. She erupted into frantic and earsplitting laughter.
She could do nothing but laugh. No matter how hard she pulled, she could not move so much as a fraction of an inch. He had made sure to tie her the best he could, because he didn't want anything to interrupt this tickle torture session.
He continued tickling her tender armpits as she laughed uncontrollable for about fifteen more minutes, before he stopped, and once again, sat down in the chair underneath her now bare, protruding ribs.
He began lightly caressing along the most outward points. This by itself, sent her into extreme fits of laughter. When he finally dug his fingers into her ribs, she exploded into laughter that he felt sure could've probably been heard through the walls. It's a good thing, he though, that no one's out there to hear it.
She was laughing more violently now than ever before. He had to admit that she'd gotten louder and more violent than even Lari had. He dug his fingers in deeply, and rummaged all over her protruding tummy, ribs, and sides. She was laughing so hard that she could hardly breath.
He dug in around her pelvis as well, and it turned out that she was more ticklish there than anywhere else.
He tortured her ribs for almost thirty minutes, before she finally passed out. He had to admit to himself that no one had ever lasted that long, being tickled that way in that position. He decided that he liked her, and would make sure that she was taken care of.
When Chely awoke, she was back in her own house, lying on her couch, completely intact.
Her phone was ringing.
It was Lari and they talked about what had happened. After that Chely called Lee Ann to make sure that she was alright.
When that was done, Chely decided that she was hungry, so she went out to walk down to the cafe on the corner. It was only a block.
She was almost there when a man came out of the shadows and grabbed her, putting a knife to her neck.
"Gimme your money, lady," the man said.
Just then another huge man, probably seven feet tall, and atleast three hundred pounds came out of from the alley.
He grabbed the man from behind, grabbing his hand with such force that it shattered every bone, causing the knife to fall to the ground. The big man grabbed the mugger by the throat, and with one hand, slammed him into the side of a building three times, before letting him fall to the ground choking and writhing on the ground.
"Oh, my God," Chely said. "You saved my life. Thank you."
"Your welcome," the huge man said.
"Can I buy you some dinner," she asked.
"I'd be tickled," he said.
She turned and looked at him intently.
He flashed her a smile, and she smiled back, almost defiantly.
The went and ate breakfast.
She knew he was The Tickle King, but he'd saved her life, so she decided things were even.