Armpit tickle story

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He had decided to start with her hips, a particular favorite place of his, and was currently digging his thumbs into a ticklish weak spot right above her hip bones. Through a series of commands, he had fixed her feet to the floor, her back to the wall, and her hands behind her head.

She had to stand there and take it, but she could still shake her head and hips. Sir Edgar was greatly enjoying the spectacle of her shaking and thrusting her hips all around just to try to escape the tickle torture. Sir Edgar was having a great time, taking in every bit of her forced laughter and ticklish reactions. He gently dragged his fingers up and down her ticklish sides before digging in at some random spot or another.

He drew little circles around her belly button, driving her even crazier with anticipation. He even spider tickled a specific ticklish spot on her stomach right below her ribcage, sending her into an even bigger frenzy. Poor Ella was losing her mind as the true realization of her helplessness set in.

She could beg all she wanted and she still had absolutely no control over her body. She was shaking her head back and forth, tears of laughter freely flowing down her face. This gave Edgar another evil idea, and he stopped tickling the poor girl. Ella eventually stopped laughing, gasping for breath and struggling against her curse to move from the wall.

Ella dared not say anything, recognizing the evil tone in his voice. But you must keep your body against the wall. And your arms above your head. No way would this creep make her let go of the straps and reveal herself to him. She refused. Edgar calmly walked up to Ella until he was just a few inches away.

Ella whimpered Armpit tickle story fear as the all to familiar ticklish sensations began again. She tried in vain to lower her arms, to make herself break the curse. Sir Edgar, watching her shake her head, started gently spider tickling under her other arm.

Unable to move anything else and desperate Armpit tickle story some reprieve from the tickling, Ella was forced to bounce up and down while being tickled. This made it harder for her to hold her bra and she tried to keep her feet planted on the floor, but the tickling was driving her so crazy that she had to move in any way she could, she just had to. Edgar was quite enjoying the spectacle, watching her concentrate so hard on not laughing while she was forced to jump and shake her head, her thin white bra just barley containing her breasts.

Ella was, by this point, truly losing her mind. And Edgar seemed determined to get her to let go of the straps no matter what. After only a few minutes of holding the bra straps in her mouth, Ella had hit her limit. Less than twenty minutes and Ella was already desperate for it to end. Like so many times before, Edgar had mastered the art of tickle torture to render her completely helpless.

She had tried on countless occasions to break the curse. To stop herself from walking right into the chambers of a sadistic tickler who knew her every weakness. But time and time again, she had failed. She sat on the bed with a mix of fear and righteous anger on her face. God no. She hated this, whatever the deal was would surely be awful.

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And then, I would like if you asked me politely to tickle you. Like a good girl. Sensing her shock, Edgar continued.

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As if to articulate his point, Edgar pulled open a drawer on his bedside table and began removing various instruments of torture. A hairbrush, a bottle of foot lotion, a comb, a toothbrush, and several more feather. As he laid them one by one on the table, Ella started to panic. She remembered the early days of her tickle slavery to Edgar. He would force her into positions and tickle her for hours, just to show who was in control.

Poor Ella during that first month was a blabbering mess by the time he was done with her. But that had only been one or two hours maximum, never four. And never even one for the past three months. Ella gulped, thinking about what four hours would do to her.

The things she would say. The way she would suffer. Edgar raised his eyebrows and grinned. Wordlessly, she glared at Edgar and pulled her shirt off over her head, revealing a plain white bra. Edgar stared at her amazing 22 year Armpit tickle story figure and put down the handful of feathers he was holding, waiting for what she would do next.

Edgar could have ordered Ella to do this, of course. He could have ordered her to do anything he wanted. But after a few months, the novelty of those orders had started wearing off. So he had started switching to mind games, offering deals and predicaments that would force Ella to choose to submit to him instead of her curse forcing her to. Edgar watched as she walked over to the wall and raised her hands above her head. A couple months ago, she would have never done anything without an order.

She would have reed herself to any amount of forced tickle torture rather than lowering herself to voluntarily obeying Sir Edgar. But months of relentless tickling can break even the strongest wills, Edgar realized. He smiled, wondering what it would be like when he no longer had to order her around at all. When she was so meek and submissive to him that she would obey his every will voluntarily and accept her rightful place as his willing tickle slave. Ella, with her back against the wall and her he above her head, was furious. She realized the only thing worse than being forced to accept tickle torture was doing it voluntarily.

No curse was making her do this, but she was doing it anyway. Edgar feigned surprised. God she hated hearing her own voice say those words. Armpit tickle story made her skin crawl. Sir Edgar grinned as he wove the the feather through his fingers. Take off your shoes. But make sure your feet hang over the edge. She watched in horror as her hands removed her flat brown shoes to reveal her freshly pedicured toes. Against every ounce of her resistance, her legs moved her forward, carrying her to the bed.

Without her shoes, she was left with her customary long blue skirt and white blouse. Her long brown hair fell down to her hips and her face was twisted into an expression of fierce concentration. By now she was laying on the bed, on her back with her bare feet dangling off the end. Edgar pulled his chair up to the bed and sat down just a few inches away from them, her feet flailing and her toes curling in anticipation. You know better than that. Toes spread. Legs flat against the bed.

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