Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login

Mature Content

or, enter your birth date.



Please enter a valid date format (mm-dd-yyyy)
Please confirm you have reviewed DeviantArt's Terms of Service below.
* We do not retain your date-of-birth information.
Chapter 13 – Sunday, June 29, 1958

To Susanna's eyes, Master Ted's mansion looked huge.

Of course, that it didn't really belong to Master Ted, but rather to his father. It came from the nineteenth century, and had enough room to house six to eight couples in an antique nineteenth century style, with big, high-ceilinged rooms. It had a grand appearance, but the added-in plumbing and electric wiring didn't really match.

The rugs that covered the floors, on the other hand, managed to both match the style of the place and be up-to-date at the same time. They felt soft and soothing under Susanna's bare feet as Master Guy led her to the party room.

Susanna looked forward to that party. In fact, she tingled with excitement and anticipation. Master Guy had hardly touched her at all on Friday night, saying that he was too tired. (And, in truth, he had both looked and sounded exhausted.) But on Saturday he had used her hard, with lots and lots of sex but barely any tickling at all.

He'd begun in the morning, waking her up from a cuddled sleep with the impalement from behind that he referred to as a 'tool-whipping.' He released her to fix breakfast, and then carried her back to bed, whispering that he planned to keep her there all day. He then followed that plan, mostly. Susanna remembered the kisses Master Guy had rained on her, and the wonderful hammering he applied as she lay under him, legs spread and arms clutching. She remembered the way he held her in return, and his fierce, happy growls. But she couldn't remember how many times it had happened, or how many times she had cried out with her own pleasure. Lunch had been in there, somewhere, and a too-brief session on the basement tickle-couch, followed by a return upstairs. Back in the bedroom, his hands had taken full possession of her. Those strong, confident hands made her feel owned from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. They soothed her as well, the gentle hands of a master caressing his slavegirl.

They had slept then, until midnight, when he woke her and ordered her to ride him. She immediately obeyed, bucking and squirming, using all her skill with her second mouth, doing her best to pleasure him as he lay back and grinned lazily up at her. She rode him again and again, striving to exhaust his hardness until she became exhausted herself. He then folded her to him, and they slept once more, cuddled together, her dark and feminine skin pressed against his pale, male, body.

After all that Master Guy had put her through yesterday, Susanna felt as if she ought to be sated and exhausted. But she wasn't. Yesterday had been short on the Tickle, and the Tickle was what Susanna wanted. She wanted it so badly that it ached. She followed eagerly after her master. The sooner they arrived in the party room, the sooner the tickling would start.

* * *

When they did arrive, the contents of the party room turned out to be even better than Susanna had imagined. A nice, big room, it had an abundance of traps and ropes, stocks and benches, and posts and devices. It had all sorts of wonderful things for securing tickle-slaves. The tables along the walls were loaded with feathers, brushes, wooden spoons, and tickle implements of all sorts. Everything, in short, that a master might use to tease the skin of a helpless female. Its luxury looked utterly sinful.

At a gesture from Master Ted, Susanna raised her arms, allowing Master Guy to strip her naked. He folded her green rayon square in half, and restored it to her as a short wrap-skirt. A very short skirt, one that left Susanna feeling nakeder than nude. She exchanged glances with Gina and April, who had already been stripped and skirted. Their bare breasts contrasted oddly with their glasses. April flushed, but Gina just grinned.

Master Ted introduced Marie-Theodora, his own slave woman. Her waist-wrap was tiny, a scrap hardly larger than a handkerchief. Then the others arrived, and were stripped and skirted: Emily and Marie from the Kroger coven. Their masters exchanged greetings, with the rest of the group, and then each master led his woman to one of the various restraining devices. Master Guy secured Susanna in the left-hand position of a three-place set of stocks, with Master Ted securing Marie-Theodora in the middle, and Master Curtis securing his Emily on the right.

The three women then got to watch their masters sort through the tickle implements displayed on one of the side tables. Susanna grinned in happy anticipation. Marie-Theodora kept turning her head, her movements sharp and nervous, and Susanna decided to distract her. "Marie-Theodora," she said. "That's an unusual name."

"Just call me Marie, please," came the tight-voiced answer, "Or Marie T, since there's another Marie here." She forced a smile, then muttered, "I hope I've been warmed up enough."

"You've been warmed up enough," Emily said from the other side. "Tell yourself that, and it will be true. Isn't that right, Susanna?"

"That's right," Susanna nodded. "You'll be fine." She turned her head back to watch her own Master Guy approach, his fists full of feathers and things, and his face filled with a grin. Her return smile felt smug. She felt smug, secure in the knowledge that this afternoon, at least, she would not have to beg him for the tickle.

* * *

Even though Gina was not a bond witch herself, she could still feel the witchery in the air.

Her Master Stan had put her in a restraint that held her in a shallow vee, half sitting and half lying. Smooth wooden slats supported her back, padded cuffs held her wrists below the level of her rear, and her legs rose up again, strapped to a leaning post. The binding left her bare soles well-presented for the attentions of the masters.

Gina looked around, seeing Susanna in a set of triple stocks with Emily and Master Ted's new house slave. April knelt on an elevated cushion, her arms spread wide and strapped to a cross-beam. Gina couldn't see April's ankles, but she knew that they would be strapped in place as well. Turning her head, Gina could see Marie laying on a padded bench, belly down, knees pent, and ankles trapped in a set of vertical stocks that held her feet soles-up.

Gina heard a squeal of laughter, but didn't look to see where it came from. Her eyes were on Master Stan, as he stepped around April, his eyes locked on her helpless body. Each master would begin by tickling he own slave woman, which meant that Master Stan would be warming her up for the others. Not that she needed any warming up this afternoon. Not with all the witchery in the air. Still, it was the custom. Tickle parties like this one were an exception to the masters' normal rule of 'look but don't touch' when it came to slave women who didn't belong to them. But even so, each woman here would receive her first tickles from her own master. After that, each master would tickle each slavegirl in turn.

Gina saw – and felt – Master Stan applying his tickles to her feet. He wasn't using the brushes he had selected. Gina had glimpsed a curved nylon-plastic thing, an implement that master had picked up along with the brushes. Then she felt its touch, raking her soles. Happy tickle-shocks ran down her legs, making her squeal. Then the laughter poured out of her.

Gina struggled, unable to keep herself from doing so. She pulled at the cuffs holding her wrists. No escape that way. Her big toes were tied, leaving her no way to avoid the raking tickle. Gina could do nothing but endure and enjoy that skritchy tickle. She could do nothing but squeal and laugh at each stroke. And twist in her bonds, futilely. Unable to escape.

The raking tickle focused all of Gina's attention on her soles, as the long strokes ran up from her heels to her toes. And as the hard-soft tines left paths of teasing behind them. Heels to toes, heels to toes, over and over, a dozen or more times before master changed his tickle to a cross-wise raking. Rake, rake rake. Then a pause. "Cute little Korean feet," master said. It was one of his favorite expressions. Then, "Koochy koochy koo!"

Gina burst into laughter once more as the raking resumed on her helpless soles.

* * *

Susanna giggled uncontrollably as Master Guy attacked her from behind. She felt his fingers run up and down her sides, dancing in her armpits, moving down to her hips, and reaching around to tease her belly. After that, they returned to her sides to repeat that unbearable, delicious tickle-pattern.

Then the pattern changed. Instead of dancing fingers digging into her sides, there was a brush dry-painting her belly. A brush not held in the hands of her own Master Guy, but in another master's hands. Another master taking his turn as Master Guy moved over to Marie T.

No, not one brush. Two brushes. Two brushes held in two masculine hands. Brushes making Susanna laugh so hard she couldn't identify the hands that held them. Brushes running over her belly, around her sides to her back, and then returning to her belly once more. Brushes that left a broad trail of tickles behind them. Stroke, wiggle, stroke, the brushes ran back and forth, causing laughter to fountain out of Susanna as she sat secured in the stocks.

Susanna squirmed. Her wrists were secured above her head, out of the way. Her ankles were secured in front of her. The restraints held her perfectly helpless. They left her unable to avoid the brushing tickle as it covered everything between her waist and her collar. Everything. Whichever master it was, he seemed determined to address every ticklish bit of her torso's dark skin.

* * *

Gina found herself receiving an upper-body tickling as well, when Master Curtis took over from Master Stan. Not with a broad, soft paintbrush, but with a rubber spatula dipped in lotion. The spatula rubbed and slicked and scraped, tickling her in its own way. Tickling her as much as anything did. Producing squirms and laughter from her just as forcefully as any other tickle-method. Master Curtis couldn't reach her back, secured as she was, but he could ¬– and did – tickle-tease her sides and belly, between her breasts and all around them. He teased her armpits and ran the lotion-slick spatula down her legs as well. Or rather up her legs, secured as they were with her bare feet and tied toes held at the top of the slanted post and her rear at the bottom.

Giggling and twisting in response to all those teasing touches, Gina felt herself at the edge of something. At the edge of an incredible tickling! some part of her mind screamed. It would be horrible and wonderful, and wonderfully horrible when Master Curtis finally applied himself to her soles. But there was something else as well. The witchery in the air grew thicker. Couldn't everyone sense it?

Then another teasing line came. Down her left leg. Across her belly from her left hip to her right armpit. Up her right arm. And then down her left arm to repeat in reverse. And Gina had no more attention to spare for anything but how that slick, rubbery scraping tickled.

* * *

Susanna could feel the witchery as well. She did her best to ignore it as it whispered to her: Kootchy koo! Kootchy koo! Kootchy kootchy koo! She needed to catch her breath, during this brief break. At any moment, her tickling might resume. Master Ted would tickle her next, she thought. He was choosing new implements with the air of a man preparing for a foot-tickle. Susanna's feet squirmed in anticipation. He wouldn't tickle her quite as well as her own Master Guy could, but he would come close. Very close. He'd be thorough, and he'd be different, and Susanna looked forward to that. Yet at the same time, she'd be very happy when her own Master Guy took her home to cuddle and tease. Which was, of course, one of the purposes of these parties. The main purpose was to amuse the masters, but they also left slaves with a better appreciation of the touch of the men who actually owned them.

And here came Master Ted. He applied his chosen implement to Susanna's feet. A toothbrush! A toothbrush scrubbing the pads of her toes! Susanna squealed, twisting, deeply aware of that scrubbing tickle-sensation, somewhat aware of Marie T giggling and giggling beside her, and only vaguely aware of the other tickle-vibrations that filled the room. Vibrations produced by six slavegirls, each one held helpless and forced to laugh under a master's touch.

Now that devilish toothbrush had moved on. Instead of pouring a concentrated tickle into her toe-pads, Master Ted was using it to touch, and scrub, and tickle-tease the rest of Susanna's feet. Every bit of them. She felt the tickle applied to the tops of her feet as well as her soles, a wonderfully evil tickle that she loved. She loved it, she couldn't stand it, and she feared it would stop too soon. She squirmed and struggled as Master Ted brushed and scrubbed her insteps and the tops of her toes. She laughed and laughed as he tickle-wiggled the toothbrush around her heels and the balls of her feet. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand those huge tickles that he produced with such a little implement. And she loved it, loved it, loved it!

* * *

Sitting between Susanna and Emily, Marie-Theodora felt her own sensitivity increasing. Master Ted had given her a strong bastinado just before the guests arrived, and she had hoped it would be enough to warm her up. Otherwise, this tickle party would be sheer agony for her.

But now she was certain; she had been warmed up enough. Not just from the bastinado, but from all the witchery in the air. Marie T could sense the ticklishness of Susanna on her left and of Emily on her right, and that was making her crave a tickling of her own.

Master Ted began her tickle session, and then Master Guy took over. He stood behind her, reaching around to tease her belly and sides. Marie T pulled at the bonds on her wrists, bonds that held her arms up out of the way. Bonds that held her so as to give the masters a clear field in which to inflict their sweet torments.

Master Guy's tickling was not much of a torment, but it did feel pleasantly spicy. Marie T could admire his expertise as she squirmed and giggled under his touch. He knew how to move at just the right speed, with just the right degree of pressure, to make his tickles both gentle and incredibly effective. His fingers teased wonderfully as they traveled up and down her ribs and back and forth across her belly. They found a bottomless well of laughter inside her, and brought it gushing out. And they made her squirm in the stocks, as well, sharply aware of her inability to escape. She stiffened as one forefinger wiggled in her navel, and twisted as the other forefinger flicked lightly at an especially sensitive spot between and below her breasts.

Now Master Stan joined in to tickle her feet. Marie T couldn't see what he was using, but she could feel it. Spirits above, she could feel it! She could feel the flick-flick-flicking over her soles, quick and fierce. She could feel the rapid flicks on the sole of her left heel, each flick a short downward stroke, but with a swarm of them moving slowly upward toward her toes. She could feel them move to the ball of her right foot, where they imposed a most wonderful tickle-sensation as the stroke-swarm moved back down toward her heels. And then... And then... Marie T could feel Master Stan alternating between her two helpless feet for the best, worst, strongest pleasure-torment of them all! Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle!

* * *

Gina watched April's Master William, as he came forward to tickle her. He grinned as he showed her the feather-fan, armed with soft, fluffy feathers. Gina grinned back at him, in anticipation of just what that feather-fan would do to her vulnerable skin.

The tickle-touch came. Soft. Very soft. Teasingly soft, squirmingly soft, as the feather tips ran up and down and up and down again. Trapped by her bonds, Gina could not avoid the gentle touch, but could only wiggle and giggle as Master William delicately brushed her legs and the tops of her feet. He fanned the bottoms of her feet as well, not quite touching them, and the anticipation made Gina feel even more ticklish. Soon, soon that terribly soft touch would tickle-tease her naked soles as well.

* * *

Susanna thrashed, as Master Stan moved over from Marie T to apply his tickle-rake to her own soles. Rake-rake-rake-rake-rake, the tickle sensations sank deeply into Susanna's insteps. But not into her insteps alone. She could feel the raking tickle on her heels, and on the balls of her feet, as Master Stan applied them there, as well. She felt as if every one of her nerve endings was receiving its own special tickle as the rake swept up and down her feet. Up and down her helpless feet. The stocks held her trapped, and the tickling made her feel even more helpless. She could not escape. She could never escape, no matter how much she struggled, and it felt wonderful. It was too much, and too much was wonderful! All the world became that terrible raking of her feet that tickled wonderfully.

Tickling and witchery filled the room, like incense, like a fog. Visions came to Susanna, in quick flashes. Visions of the gazebo. Visions of her new neighbors; of Gina, Lillanna, and Karen, of Master Stan, Master Jim, and Master Bruce. Visions of Master Guy tickling her. Of her owner and master binding her in many different ways and tickling her thoroughly, using paintbrushes, and toothbrushes, and plastic rakes on her brown skin and bare feet. She squealed in delight. It would be wonderful.

Then came the vision that Susanna couldn't see. She was the mirror, reflecting the vision for someone else. For one of the other women in the room to see. But the vision tickled as it reflected from Susanna, and she giggled. Giggled and giggled and giggled.

* * *

Gina heard Susanna's squeal as it rose above all the other giggles and laughter in the room. Including Gina's own. She felt the vision settle on her, but she wasn't a bond witch and so she didn't recognize it. At least not at first. At first, she just felt herself floating, floating on the echoes of laughter. Floating on the tickle-vibrations that filled the room, from Susanna, and April, and Emily, and the two Maries.

Gina could sense the grins of the masters, as they inflicted those tickle-vibrations. She could also feel the tickles being inflicted on her own helpless body. Those tickle-sensations burned within her. Burned like liquid fire, only more pleasant. Much more pleasant...

It was when she saw the four men that Gina realized she was in a vision. They were young men, soldierly men, men sprawled out in a small room. Resting, but with their guns near at hand. Where? Gina couldn't tell. When? Soon, she thought. Maybe very soon. More than a day, but certainly less than a month. And Lillanna was with them.

Lillanna? Why Lillanna? She looked worried. Frightened? Trying to hide her fear? Maybe.

Then Gina could hear, as well as see. One of the men was speaking. "...too bad we couldn't grab all four," he said. "American women would be worth a lot, on the..."

A roaring filled Gina's ears. Her sight went blurry, as if she had lost her glasses. She felt dizzy. Dizzy, and whirling away...
Chapter 13 of my e-novel Tickle Witch submitted as a free teaser here, because it's a big tickle scene.

The full versions of my e-novels are available here: [link]
No comments have been added yet.

Add a Comment:

More from DeviantArt


Submitted on
May 31, 2012
File Size
23.2 KB
Mature Content


6 (who?)