A Brush with Agony

You chuckle at the simplicity of it all and agree to the bet. ‘Tickling? How childish!’ You smirk and accept the terms without any hesitation, your buff Tickler returning such a look as he asks you to lie down. You comply, already fantasizing about being five hundred dollars richer soon.

He explains the rules, not that you care; ‘survive half an hour of my tickling without saying mercy and you win.’ You reply with an audible ‘Pfft. Childs play.’ With all the confidence in the world. You then demand no mercy at all.

The Tickler agrees without a moment's hesitation.

This should have given you pause but so wrapped up in confidence you were (with a smattering of greed) you eagerly attacked the challenge head on but slowly that confidence is stripped away.

Maybe it was the restraints now pining your limbs down that began to shake your resolve, as nervous sweets dripped from your brow, or maybe it was the ankle stocks that locked them in place, a thick twine tying all the toes back. Regardless, those nervous laughs that tried to play it cool were fooling no one.

You flexed the restraints as hard as you could to find they had no give as the Tickler gently ran his claws across your sensitive soles. You gave an involuntary giggle in response and winced. Suddenly that overconfidence evaporated to the situation at hand. This was going to be no childs playful tickle fight but genuine torture.

The Tickler tells you the thirty minutes have begun and you brace yourself.

With the soft, delicate touches only an artist could give, the Tickler turns you into a screaming mess within a few moments as they work the soles like the strings of an instrument. They know how to play you like any Master craftsmen, as all the delicate areas were assaulted.

‘Mercy!’ You cry in anguish but the playing does not stop. The conductor of this symphony reminds you of rescinding those rights. You cry out in breathless agony and beg for an end but the playing continues. Much like how the restraints wouldn't budge, neither would the Tickler.

Within a few minutes you’re a blubbering mess that can hardly breathe. The situation was as painful as it was pleasurable as you screamed in agony.

Finally when you think you can't take it anymore there's an abrupt respite as you catch your laboured breaths. Before you can beg for mercy again a muzzle is slipped over your maw and fastened on. Now there was only muffled whines as you attempted to beg, your pleading eye hopeful.

The Tickler grins again and lubes up your soles before revealing two brushes. You look on with wide eyed horror, unable to do anything. ‘Only twenty-five minutes to go.’ And that's all he says before your muffled screams drown everything else out.

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Thoughts

A random piece I commissioned from God Lord Lemon Venom himself, LemonLordVenom. And if that was a random way to introduce Lemon then- Yes! My only thought about getting this piece was that I adore Lemons tickling art work and decided to snag a cheap sketch while he abruptly offered fast sketches on his telegram channel. I happily accepted it and he was only too happy to draw Acya again… well, at least his feet.

What was meant to be a twenty minute sketch Lemon happily worked on for a few hours more. Needless to say when he finished I was completely over the moon with how much effort he put into it. An absolute true professional if I ever met one and somebody who takes their craft seriously, even for the cheapest pieces. Amazing work Lemon. I am eternally grateful.

As to the art piece, what's not to love? You have Acya’s helpless paws receiving a hard brushing for everyone's enjoyment. I’m always a sucker for toes being tied back to make the feet more vulnerable and helpless so this really hits me in the horny. Hehe. Gosh, if only I could be in this art piece and have all my troubles melt away in laughter.

And Lemon did a nice touch with the splashes of colour matching my Sona’s colours.

So feel free to join in and give the Durgs soles a good time.

Artwork ©
Acya ©