Late-night (early morning?), half-asleep ramble about (love letter to?) tickling under the cut.
People's bodies betraying them, as it relates to tickling, just... does something to me.
When someone is being tickled, and they are trying so hard not to laugh... but they are SO sensitive, so ticklish, they just can't help it...
I even like the word, unsurprisingly. Ticklish. Not just sensitive, but specifically susceptible to being tickled... a phenomena so unique, we actually have a word for it. It just flutters my tummy up when I hear that someone is ticklish... knowing that it means, if tickled, they're sure to laugh. There is just something so deliciously vulnerable about that, to me... something so adorable...
"Sensitive" is not a very precise word. It could mean emotionally delicate, or skin that is reactive, bruises easily, etc... but ticklish...
A ticklish person is going to be weak to a light touch, or a gentle tweaking, somewhere on their body... And no matter where that spot is... it's just so unbearably cute to me.
The way a person with ticklish ears, or a ticklish neck, will shrug their shoulders and tuck their head down when you whisper, kiss, or softly feather them there...
Someone with ticklish armpits or sides will press their arms against their body, usually doubling over, or even grabbing your wrists if they can reach them...
A ticklish belly will also make someone curl forward, either grabbing at you or trying to block with their arms wrapped protectively around their middle...
Tickling someone's thighs will cause them to kick, press their legs together, and sometimes crumple to the ground as their knees weaken, their strength betraying them as they helplessly endure the sensation...
If you can get ahold of someone's ticklish feet, tickling there will make them scrunch their toes down defensively, kick, and wriggle their ankles trying to get free...
Soooo many other spots, common and uncommon, and all with their own unique reactions... not just unique to the spot, but also to the person, which only serves to fascinate and enthrall me even more...
This is to say nothing of all the different ways people can laugh... and I'm sure I won't surprise anyone by saying I find all of those adorable, too...
High-pitched, "he-he-he" giggles, especially if the person is embarrassed about them... oh, don't even get me started on people who blush from being tickled... the way that makes me swoon...
Low, humming, closed-mouth "hm-hm-hm" laughter from people who try to hold back... and how deliciously satisfying it is when you finally get them to open their mouth and let out a big belly laugh...
People who burst into "ha-ha-ha"s the moment you touch them... or even better, before you touch them, if they are so ticklish as to react before the sensation has even begun...
The sheer, helpless honesty of people who snort, squeal, and even scream... things that simply cannot be faked or resisted, that demand to be felt and expressed...
All the other things people's bodies do... the way they tremble, flush, get sweaty, tear up, get hiccups, smile sooooo big, and flail around uncontrollably... the way they're totally helpless but to tell the whole story of what's going on inside...
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if you can cum from tickling alone - no other stimulation needed - that’s soooo so special . like wow you love it that much… that needs to be taken advantage of over and over and over and over and
A demonstration of how best to hug good little lees so that they know they're adored
She's so delightfully submissive, only lightly defending herself at the end even though you can tell it's killing her. And those little leg kicks, the way she melts into him -- so cute! 🤭
I hope this inspires you to show your lees how much you adore them 💜
*
Video is from the studio 'Kochopa@tickle'
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What if I get you niiiiice and high, and then spread one of those tingly sensitivity increasing lubes on your nipples and genitals. Then I'll take my sweet time tickling you allll over
The weed making you extra giggly and extra sensitive. The lube tingling at your most sensitive parts while your mind swirls with intoxication
I won't be tickling you where I've spread the lube just yet though, I'll let the tingling do the work for me~
Watching your body react as you can't ignore the sensation. Becoming more and more aroused as I tease and tickle you but don't offer any relief to those special parts of you that so clearly want my attention
The desperation and embarrassment of it all only turning you on more as I keep tickle tickle tickling away at your poor sensitive body
If you can manage to ask for it through your laughter, I might be nice enough to play with that growing heat between your legs~
Oh you thought I was going to get you off? Not yet.
I wonder if you can handle tickling on top of the sensitizing lube...
i need to be at a party where everyone knows im ticklish and the whole night if im not actively being held squirming in someones lap everyones still poking my sides whenever i get close enough
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jshfnvkfjdhsh tickles as a method of cancelling out overthinking
i have really bad rejection sensitivity so this kinda stuff hits but just. a ler who can sense when you're spiraling. when you're starting to feel afraid of things you know won't really happen. anxious, abandoned, left out, whatever- but having all of that immediately shut down with a couple scribbles to... well, anywhere. your insecurity met with a soothing smile... but some strangely glinting eyes to match...
or maybe you tell them yourself. it's hard being vulnerable or asking for reassurance but you do it anyway- begrudgingly, and the discomfort and dread that swirls around in your chest during and after you do so feels like it's about to kill you. until that heavy ache is replaced with frantic butterflies, at least, because suddenly you're having your sides squeezed and a hand scribbling across your belly.
tickled so much that you can't overthink anymore, because you can't think at all, not about anything beyond how badly the fingers wiggling around in the crook of your neck tickle, or how much you want to squirm when they scribble their fingers in your underarms, or when they somehow reassure and tease you in the same sentence so they comfort and fluster you simultaneously-
when there's no need to worry about anything, and they make sure you can't. they're here to tickle it all out of you.
Anyone who follows @yourlittlettoy knows she is all about the extreme suffering nightmare tickle scenarios, so this was an amazing opportunity for me to flex my sadistic side 😈. We’ve been hinting at a scene like this for a while so it was so satisfying to finally make it happen!
- We started with some wrestling/playful tickles. I was deliberately going easy on her because I wanted the intense stuff to happen once she knew she was stuck.
- I cuffed her wrists above her head and then wrapped duct tape around the cuff straps so that she couldn’t escape at all
- this is when I started to go pretty intense with the tickles. I wanted her to start to regret it as I whispered in her ear about how stuck she was, how I had no intention of going easy on her, and how there was nothing she could do to stop me
- I then set a timer for 1 hour
- She has so many death spots: hip pockets, bottom ribs, side boob area, knees, butt, feet, ears. Pretty much everywhere is gold.
- The only place she could really protect was her neck, so I made her let me in by torturing a different spot for a while. Eventually she relented and tilted her head to the side. I jumped on the chance to lick her neck and ears 😇
- “I finally have you all to myself, there are no other people, distractions, obligations. I’m going to keep you locked in my garage for as long as I want”
- so many begs for ‘mercy’. Eventually I said maybe you should try another word instead. How about ‘red’? Nope, that got ignored as well. ‘Pineapple’? Pineapple was my trap card that activated the most ruthless digging into her ribs of the night. I joked that it was her ‘danger word’ (she never did figure out a safe word)
- as the timer counted down, I’d occasionally make her guess how much time was left. She was actually a pretty good guesser (usually within a couple minutes) but I never admitted it. She never got it exactly right, so she got punished every time.
- when we got down to about 13 minutes I asked her again. This time she was way off when she guessed 20 minutes. So I showed her how much time could have been left, and then reset it to 20 minutes 😈
- I negotiated a 1 minute drop in the timer if she asked me to use the hairbrush on her feet. It took a few tries but she eventually mumbled out the words…
- I added the minute back shortly afterwards for another transgression (there always seemed to be some reason to punish this girl)
- when the timer finally ran out, I left the phone ringing while I continued to torture her. Must have kept going for another few minutes 😇
- I said I couldn’t hear the phone because she’d been screaming in my ear all night and now I’m deaf, so really it’s her fault
- Then I tortured her some more, just for fun 😊
Don’t worry, she got some cuddles and a nice massage afterwards. Then we went to bed and had a fun hiking adventure the next day 😁
TW: extreme CNC tickling audio in the content below. Panicked laughter, begging, no mercy, genuine suffering.
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A world exists where torture rules all things. Tickling is used to dominate, interrogate, torture, amuse, it is the universal language. In this land of fairytales and monsters, Kings and Queens, thieves and knights, there are also Witches...
The orc girl was suffering.
Her laughter echoed throughout the walls of the old cliffside castle. Deep within the crumbling stone structure, she was restrained. Her bottle glass green skin glistened with sweat. The dark mane of hair was braided behind her back. Sat in an old wooden seat, her wrists were tied to the hanging candelabra, unable to lower her arms. Her seven foot frame was pure muscle, and yet, no matter how hard she pulled she couldn’t free her arms. The possibility of freedom mocked her.
Hidden behind the green beast was a bespectacled, giggly girl, sitting cross legged on a stool. She wore a black button up dress with a white collar and lining, with tight fitting black leggings under it. Gloves stretched up her forearms, a heavy bangle dangling from either wrist. Her nimble fingers dug into the soft, tasty hollows of the orc’s underarms. As the monster suffered, the lithe girl flipped her raven hair back and licked her lips as the monster suffered. Gold flashed on the middle and ring fingers of both hands as she quickly wiggled her fingers up and down and left and right over the armpits.
"HAHAHAHAHA! I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAR IT! AS–AS SOON AS I GEHEHEHEHET OUT OF HEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHARE I’ll–NOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
On the heavy oak table in the center of the chamber were two pairs of feet. The first pair were the orc’s. Her ankles were trapped in a pair of stocks, locked with no chain or tool but crafted into one solid piece by magic. The trembling feet were massive, almost half the size of the table itself. With the hefty toes tied back, silky green arches taut, and both feet slicked with a potion that increased nerve sensitivity by 100%, they were begging to be tortured.
The second pair of feet were quite large themselves. They were dwarfed by the massive green slabs, but looked much tastier. Black stirrup straps protected the long and creamy arches. Freckles dotted the tops of the milky white feet. The slender toes glimmered with thick gold rings, adorning the middle three toes of either foot. Buttery smooth, the toenails painted black, and scented with oils–or maybe years of sweat–they were begging to torture.
The owner of the precious feet was an abnormally tall woman. She was shaped like a sculpted hourglass, with wide hips, legs like tree trunks, a large ass, and a massive chest that could hardly be contained by the purple leather and black steel which covered it. Her stomach was left exposed to display six rock hard abs, as were her arms which were strong, muscular, able to beat any man or orc into submission. Her legs were long and covered with black trousers covered with purple ruins. Said pants broke stirrups at the bottom. And her voice was dark and deep like the waters buried under the world.
“Don’t hold back, Elizabeth,” she said. “We don’t aim to pleasure the beast. We seek to break it.”
“Of course, Mistress,” the girl said, raking her nails down the cackling orc’s underarms. “Morgana, should–Um, I mean, Mistress, should we use the time spell yet?”
“Not yet,” Morgana said. “The beast marinates still. Using it now would be a waste.
Morgana tipped her chair back, one hand in her lap, the other arm languid behind the chair, and both feet on the table to greet the orc's. She slid her toes down the green soles, dug her heels into the calloused balls of the feet, and played a game of footsie that only one of them was enjoying.
The orc, in her forced hysteria, knew these kind of women.
Witches.
Dark, wicked beings who exited to torment and torture all those who were good or innocent. They were vicious people who were only happy when making another living being suffer.
"I'm not certain why you're making this so difficult." Morgana lazily raised the right hand in her lap–chunky gold rings on her pinky, ring, and index fingers shining in the light of torches–and pushed the wide brimmed witch hat out of her eyes. "We simply desire to know the location of the rest of your family. Is that so much trouble?"
"NO! Y–YOU–YOU'LL TICKLEHEHEHEHEHE THEHEHEHEHEHEHEM! I CAN'T! I CAHAHAHAHAHAN'T!"
Morgana chuckled, her eyes twinkling. There was no iris, pupil, or anything of the sort to be found. Her eyes were twin glowing suns under her black hat, and above the purple scarf that covered the bottom half of her face.
"Is that not obvious?” the witch said. “Why else would we seek out such creatures like you and the rest of your brood?" She used her toes as fingers, tracing shapes and runes along the Orc's pathetically ticklish feet. "Now, tell us. And I'll consider tickling you only half to death."
"N–NEHEHEHEVHEHEHAHAHAHAR! I'LL NEVER TAHAHAHAHAHALK!"
"Yes, you will," Morgana stated. " They all do. It matters not the strength of your will or body.” She curled her toes, the gold rings gleaming bright against the gloom of the room, and raked the nails down the orc’s feet. “Soon, you’ll beg to tell us every smallminded thought in that puny brain of yours. Lizzy, be a dear and count those oh so sensitive looking ribs."
"Of course, Mistress," Elizabeth said, adjusting her fogged up glasses.
"PLEASE! NOT THE RIBS! I BEG OF YOU!"
Elizabeth danced her fingers right above the Orc girl's chest. "Oh my, the ribs must be pretty bad then, huh?" she asked with a wide grin that was more suited for a lovely, intelligent schoolgirl than for a dark sorceress.
"SO MUCH SO!” She pleaded between deep breaths, Morgana having stopped to impatiently drum her toes against the orc’s feet. “PLEASE JUST–"
Before she could finish, Elizabeth dug in, kneading her fingers between the ribs.
The orc screamed. Her pathetic squeals could be heard from all the way out of the massive castle. Tears poured down her flushed cheeks. Her ticklish body had betrayed her. The green skinned freak was no match for the dark witches or their sadism.
“Oh, wow!” Elizabeth beamed. “So much more sensitive than I expected. Are all of you creatures this ticklish?”
"PLEHEHEHAHAHAHASE! N–NO MOHOHOHAHAHAHARE! IT TICK–IT TICKLES TOHOHOHOHO MUCHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA, STOHOHOHAHAHAHAP!"
"Don't worry," Morgana told their captive as she began raking her toenails down the beast’s feet, "if you don't tell us soon, we'll only tickle you for another few days. And, if you're still resisting then, we'll use some potions to make you even more ticklish. Perhaps 3,000 times more ticklish than you currently are.”
The orc snorted through a fit of cackling, begging Morgana with bright brown eyes.
“I can craft a hex that makes you imagine your ugly, brutish family being tickled to death right in front of your very eyes again and again. Would you enjoy that?”
The eyes got brighter as they got wetter with fresh tears.
“Curse you so that your tongue is removed from your mouth and multiplied by four, each one glued to the bottom of Elizabeth’s and I’s positively rancid feet. And we can make them smell and taste even worse with just a few magic words. I believe I have 917 years of foot stink and sweat saved up.”
The orc tried to wake up. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t actually happen to her.
“The curses we put on you will make every second of tickling be perceived by you as a millennia, every second within that millennia another millennia itself. And if you're still holding out after all of that...then the torture can really begin. But what the hell?” Morgana laughed, a husky sound. “We're going to do all of that even if she does tell us, right, Lizzy?"
"Of course," said the grinning apprentice, looking happily drunk as she kneaded the orc's sides. “I have so many experiments I want to run on it."
The orc girl's eyes open wider than possible, and spittle falling down her jaw, screamed with desperate laughter that shook the old castle walls.
"WHAHAHAHAHAY ARE YOHOHOHOHOU DOING THAHAHAHAHAHAHIS TO MEHEHEHEHEHE?!" she sobbed. "NOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!"
Morgana and Elizabeth shared a knowing look, the apprentice smirking and Morgana's glowing green eyes hot and alive.
"Because," Morgana said with a laugh, “you’re ticklish."
deviantart story link: https://www.deviantart.com/tickleslaver/art/The-Witches-1233077498
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