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Resistence is futile

The tickler's heart was beating faster and faster as she tortured Velma's soles. Velma kicked and struggled, but the stubborn girl refused to laugh. That was fine, she liked it when her prey fought, it made the inevitable payoff that much more satisfying. The tickler used feathers, brushes, her fingers and even had tried nibbling her toes again, but the feet that had been so sensitive and receptive of the tickling now seemed to be resisting hr every attempt to tickle them. Not that it mattered, the machine was doing it's job and draining her brain like it was supposed to, still the tickler didn't want to hang around long just in case the rest of Velma's friends showed up before the process was complete. She leaned over the flailing toes she was assaulting and said." Wow Velma, when the chips are down you're a real fighter. I respect that, but I need you to stop!" She said, redoubling her efforts on Velma's feet. The machine's progress bar read 36%, moving fast but not fast enough for her liking. The tickler wracked her brain for some idea that could help her crack her latest victim's brain, recalling her other victims. That musician and her lady band mates, the ones who'd dressed up as cats. It hadn't taken much for them, especially the blonde one. The one with the black hair with the white stripes, she had been a tough one but the tickler had found a way to make her laugh. The tickler smiled as she remembered that one. Oh how that girl had fought and resisted as the feathers and brushes had assaulted her feet, just as pale as Velma's after being trapped in her heels so long. Those heels had caught the tickler's eye, so when she had taken her leave to deliver the girls brains to her client she had stolen those shoes and was wearing them now. That memory helped calm her, but didn't give her a solution to her Velma problem.


Written by an anonymous author

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