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Female Tickling Deviantart
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Unfortunately, I'm still too backlogged to accept new commissions, and I can't predict when that situation will change. However, I will regularly update the number below to give you all an idea of how close I am to opening them. Stories on the writing queue: 7
Here I am again, thought Khari to himself as he dangled by the hem of his ankles; the soles of his feet hung bare, and were up-turned to the ceiling; his limbs lay stuck to his sides, bundled snuggly beneath a straight-jacket. He’d serve out his punishment waiting like so-solitary confinement
 
The penalty would seem harsh, but Khari had grown accustomed. He’d almost come to enjoy this—it was a quiet place to think. He’d earned his ‘rights’ to solitary time and time again. Khari and his chronic misbehavior. 
 
I really should learn to control my temper-thought Khari to himself.
Ella dreamed that someone was pulling on her arms, trying to get her to go somewhere. "Mmm, not now," she murmured. "Let go of me."

"Can't do that, sweetheart," a voice said quietly with amusement. Ella jerked awake, only to realize with a jolt of horror that she hasn't been dreaming at all. A stranger was standing by her bedside, dressed head to toe in black, from her boots to her gloves to the beanie on her head - Ella could only barely make out her short blonde hair, glinting dark eyes, and flash of white teeth in the darkness of the room.

"Who are you?!" Ella exclaimed nervously. She immediately tried to rise but realized that while she
All Tickle Cartel Chapters “AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jen laughed as her bare stomach and ribs were aggressively tickle tortured. ‘Tickling,’ she thought. At this point, tickling was all the nineteen-year-old knew. She had been getting tickled off and on, for long durations, for each of the past three days, mostly on her bare belly, which was her most ticklish spot. Her arms and legs hogtied behind her back, Jen was helpless against the incredibly effective torture that her captors were making her suffer. She knew that it was no longer a human tickling her; the tickle machines had been in control of her exposed skin for the last two days, after her midriff was outed as her most ticklish spot. Finally, the merciless tickling stopped, after what Jen guessed had been two hours, although it had felt like two weeks. Jen was still controlled by residual giggles for around five minutes, and shortly after, she felt a drink being given to her. Water. Oh, how good it tasted after the tickle torture.
After dying, a hyper-ticklish woman wakes up as a patient in her own asylum. Leave a comment if you enjoyed the story! I love having comments!
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F/F ● Tickling Hell/Therapy ● Feet and Upper Body
After dying, a hyper-ticklish woman wakes up as a patient in her own asylum.
This story is essentially a sequel to the classic Twilight Zone episode, “A Nice Place to Visit” (S01E28). You don’t need to see it to understand the story, but I recommend checking it out.
Within a padded room, a young woman is bound to a bed with five-point psychiatric restraints. This bondage is easily justified by her positively hysterical state, an inevitable side-effect of her prescribed therapy. The poor, struggling girl is snorting and laughing uncontrollably as a middle-aged woman expertly tickles her small, incredibly cute feet.
- HAAA-HAHAHA! *SNORT* NO MORE! NOO-HOHOHOHOHOO! - She cackles, shaking her head sideways. Tears of laughter stream down her beautiful, pale, round shaped face.
She suddenly looks straight at her tormentor, opening her dark blue eyes. But before any words can be uttered, the horribly ticklish sensation of nails digging under her toes sends her head back down to the pillow, where she releases a new bout of demented cackling.
- BWAAAAA-HAA-HAA-HAAA! *SNORT* *SNORT* NOO-HOO-HOO-HOO!
- Poor thing... Is it too much? - The older woman asks, faking empathy.
- YEEES! HEHEHEHEE! *SNORT* BWAAAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE STOP!
- Awww... That’s too bad... - She evilly cues, mercilessly digging her long, red nails into the girl’s wrinkled, hyper ticklish soles.
The struggling young lady doesn’t look a day over 18, but something about her eyes suggests a far greater age. She’s wearing light, white cotton pants and a t-shirt. A common outfit for asylum patients. Her hair, black as night, is cut extremely short. Not so much a fashion statement, but an institutional requirement.
- Don’t you want to be cured of your phobia?
- HAHAHAHA! *SNORT* *SNORT* NO! HOHOHOHOO! I CAAAN’T! STOAHAHAHAP!
- Well, I’m your doctor. And I don’t think you’re well enough to make that decision.
- YAAARGAHAHAHAAA! I CAN’T STAND IT! - The girl squeals, tossing herself towards the left side of the bed.
- I know... I know... Don’t you worry... I’m going to make you all better... - The woman softly says, smiling wickedly.
Doctor Dana Roberts, age 86, a psychiatrist for 60 years at the Summerstone State Asylum, passed away at her home in New Hampshire after a period of declining health. A native of East Boston, Massachusetts, she was the daughter of the late Brian and Amy Roberts...
Dana’s funeral was well attended by her relatives, none of which knew of the horrible things she did throughout her long career. As a psychiatrist in a state mental hospital, Dana was often assigned forcefully committed patients over which she had immense power. Most of these individuals passed through her care without incident, but not all. Several unlucky patients got to see the real Dr. Roberts, a sadistic, narcissistic woman with a god complex, hiding under a socially acceptable personality like a troll under a bridge.
Her victims were always sufferers of some sort of phobia. Once she knew what made them tick, she would keep them in the asylum for as long as possible, usually years, while also submitting them to deliberately tortuous treatments. Several victims were driven completely insane. Others managed to escape, through suicide.
There were a few close calls, but Dana was never caught. She was cautious, clever, and who would notice another lunatic in a madhouse?
Dana Roberts never believed there would be an afterlife, so she was stupefied when she found herself back in her old office, sitting before a 42 year old version of herself.
- What?! How?! - Dana asked, utterly baffled. She jumped to her feet and backed into a corner, looking around her own office.
- Such a disturbed girl... - Dr. Roberts said with a condescending tone - We need to start treating you post haste, young lady.
- Young lady? Who are you talking to? Better yet, who are you?! - Dana asked.
- Well, I’m talking to you, of course. You’re behaving very strangely, Dana - Dr. Roberts said, seemingly puzzled with her patient’s behavior.
Across the room, Dana’s face lost all color when she looked into a mirror and saw herself with only 18 years of age. But she was wearing an asylum patient outfit, and her beautiful long hair had been buzz cut!
- What... The... Hell... - The girl mumbled, utterly confused - This has to be a dream...
- Dana, please sit down, or I’ll have to call security - The doctor warned, placing a hand on an intercom.
Slowly, the girl returned to her seat, furiously trying to make sense of things.
- As I was saying, I’ve decided to get you started with a phobia therapy.
- Phobia? I... I don’t have any phobias... - She mumbled defensively.
- Of course you do! Are you having a laugh at my expense, young lady?! You have a tickling phobia! Gargalaphobia!
This statement instantly turned Dana into a shivering statue. Her face became a mask of absolute surprise and horror.
- What?! WHAT?! How did you... I never told anyone! Not a soul!
- You told me, dear. Don’t you remember?
- No... Nonono...NO! I CAN’T STAND BEING TICKLED! - She screamed, bolting towards the door.
- I’m going to need security... - Dr. Roberts started asking through the intercom.
Dana spun the doorknob and pulled the door open, but what she saw beyond the doorframe stopped her on her tracks. Instead of the hallway, the door opened into a dark, padded cell with a bed in the center, cinematically illuminated by a hanging lamp directly above.
- WHAT?! - She squealed, right before someone pushed her into the room. She fell down on the padded floor, immediately getting back on her feet and turning around, but to her absolute bewilderment, the doorway was gone.
- The door! Where’s the door?! - She shouted, beating her fists against the padded surface - It's gone! GONE! WHAT IS THIS PLACE?!
She then closed her eyes and lowered her head, holding it with her hands as if trying to hold on to her sanity. But when she opened her eyes, her situation was even worse, because she was now laying on the bed, strapped down with five-point restraints.
- WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK!? NO! NOOOO! - She screamed, twisting, kicking and tossing herself around as much as she could.
- Shhh... Calm down... - Her older self tried to soothe her. The woman had suddenly appeared by the bedside. Young Dana threw herself as far away as she could, which wasn’t much.
- Such a mess already... We haven’t even started! - Dr. Roberts joked.
- Where am I?! Who are you?! - Dana panickedly asked.
- Poor thing... I’m your doctor. Don’t you remember? I have a feeling we’re going to be together for a very, very long time - She answered, holding Dana’s hand.
- I used to do that! I used to hold their hand like that! NOOOO! This can’t be happening! Wake up! Wake up! HEEEEELP! Don’t tickle me! Pleasepleaseplease PLEEEEASE!
- It’s okay, pumpkin. I’m just going to...
- ... make me better... - Dana faintly completed.
- That’s right - Dr. Roberts said, walking towards the foot of the bed - You know, I’m really curious about these little feet of yours...
- NO! Pleeeease not my feeeeet! - She cried, hopelessly trying to move her socked feet away from her older self.
- Shhhh... It’s okay... - The doctor said, peeling off her right sock.
- IT’S NOT OKAY! IIIRK! - Dana squealed, as her adorable size 6 foot was laid bare.
- Awww such a cute foot! Look at the wee little toes scrunching down all scared... - Roberts cued.
- Please... Have mercy... Noooaaaaa-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAAA! - Dana laughed loudly as Dr. Roberts softly wiggled her nails up the baby-soft sole.
- That’s not so bad, is it? - The doctor asked, softly spidering up and down her pretty foot.
- It’s TORTURE! MRRRRGH! I CAN’T TAKE IT! Nonono! NOOOHOHOHO! *SNORT* BWAAAAHAA-HAA-HAA-HAAAA! *SNORT* - She howled, filling the room with hysterical laughter.
- You’re a snorter! That’s so cute! Hehehe! Snort, snort little piglet - Dr. Roberts teased.
It wasn’t long until her other sock came flying off, and both of her utterly adorable feet were being tormented by the doctor’s nails. Their every touch sent Dana into hysteria, squirming and kicking against the psychiatric restraints.
The hospital bed is now gone. It was replaced by a vertical bondage board, bolted to a wall at a slight angle. Dana is presently occupying it, standing up in an “X” position. Her wrists and ankles are all cuffed, and individually chained to a different corner. The chains are actually quite loose, giving her plenty of wiggle room, but not enough to interfere with her therapy. The only thing she’s wearing is a pair of white, cotton pants.
- OH Pleeeeeease stop! HAAA-HA-HA-HA-HA! *SNORT* You’re driving me CRAZY! - She protests, dancing on her toes.
- Stand still now... This is for your own good... - The older woman warns, holding Dana’s perky left breast and tormenting her nipple with a make-up brush.
- I caaaan’t... Hehehehe... AAAAHa-Ha-Ha-Haaa! PLEASE STOP!
- Stand still, or you’re getting fingernails... - She playfully threatens.
The girl squeals fearfully and makes an effort to control her twitching muscles.
- HAAAAA-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA! - She loudly cackles, trying to hold still while the fuzzy tip wiggles and twirls over her perky breast.
- That’s better... This is for your own good, pumpkin...
- NOOO IT ISN’T! HA-HA-HA-HA! *SNORT* I don’t neEEED HEHEHEHE THIIIS!
- That’s my call, Dana. And I think this is EXACTLY what you need. In fact, I’m going to recommend you for another six months - Dr. Roberts casually remarks.
- NOOO-HOO-HOO-HOO-HOOOOO! *SNORT* HAHAHA! *SNORT* PLEASE DOOON’T! - The girl explodes, fighting against her bondage.
- I warned you... - Roberts says, spidering her long nails up Dana’s sides, ribs, and then digging into her smooth, extremely delicate underarms.
- AAAARGH! HAAAA-HAAAA-HAAAA-HAAAA! - She cackles hysterically, jumping up and down, frantically struggling to lower her arms.
Dana opens her eyes, and sees the ceiling above.
- NO MORE! NO MORE! - She squeals, still hysterical from her previous session.
The doctor is sitting out of sight, tapping research notes into a tablet.
- I can’t move... I can’t move at all... - Dana moans, trying to look down onto her body. This proves difficult, because there’s a neck brace wrapped around her neck. But with some effort and a little deduction, she realizes her body is completely mummified with bandages and plaster casts, leaving only her head, tummy, and feet exposed.
A wave of absolute terror sweeps through her mind, and bullets of cold sweat start springing from her forehead. She tugs on her arms, but they are hopelessly bandaged and covered with plaster, crossed over her chest. She tries moving her feet, but the paster completely envelops their tops and sides, severely restricting their range of motions. She feels like she’s wearing a pair of tight boots with the soles missing. A helplessness she knows quite well...
- This particular bondage really strikes a nerve, doesn’t it Dana? - The doctor asks.
- Y... Y... Yeees... - She struggles to answer. The girl is positively frozen with fear.
- Why do you fear it so much? I already know, but tell me again. Confession is good for the soul.
- Mrrgg... Not like this... Please... - She moans, trying to move her feet.
- Tell me. You have to face your fear.
- I... I fell down badly when I was 10... Broke both legs... I was bed bound for a month...
- It happened in the summer... I was left alone with my big brother all the time...
- He was so mean to me... He... He knew I hated being tickled...
- He... What do you think he did?! He turned my room into a torture chamber! He tickled my feet for as long and as often as he could! He sat on the bed... Laid down a bunch of feathers and brushes and things... And he tickled, and tickled, and tickled... Until I was crying...
- He made me play tickle games too...
- Counting piggies... Spy interrogation... Chinese tickle torture... Cowboys and indians... Tickle game show... Reading the future on my soles...
- Poor thing... But that’s all in the past... It’s time to overcome your fear - Dr. Roberts says, sitting next to the girl’s tummy.
- Please don’t... Please... I BEG YOU... - She pleads, shaking her entire body.
- This is for your own good, pumpkin... - The older woman sings, gently dragging her nails around Dana’s flat tummy.
- AAAAARGH! HAAAA-HAA-HA-HA-HAAA! *SNORT* *SNORT* PLEASE STOP!
- I’m going to warm you up with some tummy tickles, then we’re going to play some games with your lovely feet - She cruelly announces.
- BWAAAAAHAHAHA! NOOO! HO-HO-HO! *SNORT* I CAAAN’T! I HATE BEING TICKLED! MUAAHAHAHA!
- Just let it all out... - Dr. Roberts says, enjoying the sight of her poor, traumatized patient going completely mental, furiously struggling against the unyielding plaster.
In the bat of an eye, Dana’s no longer laying down. Instead, she’s sitting on a corner, wearing a straitjacket. True to her word, the doctor spent... an extremely long time playing tickle games with her. And yet, she feels no tiredness, no thirst, no hunger, no need to relieve herself... How long has it really been since she woke up in her old office? Logically, it can’t have been more than an hour ago. And yet, she feels as if this nightmare has been going on for months! But surely that can’t be the case. Can it?
Dr. Roberts is sitting on a folding chair, typing something into a tablet. The girl releases a frightened squeal and jumps onto her feet, scrambling away from the older woman.
- Where do you think you’re going? - Dr. Roberts asks without looking up.
- Please... Please I beg you... Anything... I’ll do anything... - Dana pleads, starting to sob. When her pathetic display goes unanswered, she asks:
- Is this a nightmare? None of this makes sense! Is this... Hell? Am I dead? Please tell me... Please! I have to know!
The doctor rolls her eyes and sighs.
- Must we go through this again, Dana? Why can’t you just accept you’re a patient in this asylum?
- It makes no sense! Just tell me the truth... Please... Please tell me... - She pitifully begs, throwing herself on her knees and wailing loudly.
- Alright! Alright! - The doctor yields, lowering her tablet - Yes, you’re dead. And yes, we’re in hell. Any more questions?
- Oh god! OH GOD! I’m sorry! I’M SO SORRY! - Dana cries towards the heavens - PLEASE DON’T TORTURE ME ANYMORE!
- Don’t bother. You’re the only patient I have to have to play with, so no, I’m never going to stop treating you.
- NOOOOOO! PLEASE GOD HAVE MERCY! Who are you?! A devil?!
- What?! What do you mean?! I’m Dana! I’m Dana Roberts! - The girl squeals.
- We’re both Dana. Look... When I first arrived, there was someone else here. He called himself Mr. Pip. He said I could create anything I wanted to entertain myself, but I would never be allowed to leave this pocket-sized universe. I spent some time creating fake people and treating them, but it wasn’t the same... So I called Pip and asked for a real patient. He said I wasn’t allowed to have anyone else here, BUT... he could make a quantum duplicate of my soul and slave her to my will. That would be you, pumpkin.
- Wha... What... - Dana mumbles, struggling to process this insane story - Then... I’m not the real Dana?
- Weren’t you listening? We’re BOTH the real Dana! If you were fake, then you would be as brain dead as those dummies I first tried to treat. That’s the beauty of this solution! Pip explained it like this: Imagine a movie projector that’s projecting the same movie on two screens at the same time. That’s us! The same reel on two screens - She patiently explains.
- No, it’s BRILLIANT! I never thought I’d get a patient who fears tickling as much as I do! But here you are - She says, looking down on Dana - You are the PERFECT subject for a gargalaphobia study! I’ve been working on you for over 50 years, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface!
- No... Please... Have mercy... - Dana pitifully begs, tears streaming down her cheeks.
- I'm expecting you to last at least 8 years before I have to zap your brain again - The doctor says, looking down on her whimpering duplicate without feeling a shred of pity - I like wiping your memory every 10 years or so. You stop being as fun to play with after that. Too insane.
- Nononono... NOOOOOOOOO! HEEEEEEEELP! ANYONE! PLEEEEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE! - The girl wails. She then addresses her older self, who seems to be extremely amused with the girl’s desperation.
- I’ll do anything! ANYTHING! Pleeeeease don’t tickle me anymore! I CAN’T STAND IT!
Doctor Roberts bites her lower lip and slips her stockinged left foot from her shoe, laying it on Dana’s shoulder. The girl immediately takes the hint and plan
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