Marie lived on her own in a detached house in a small village. She got the house in a divorce settlement from her ex husband, who seemed more than happy that she have it. She was 42 now, larger than she used to be, shoulder length red hair, and still liked to paint her fingernails and toenails her favorite deep red colour. Not that there was anyone to impress these days...
Marie liked to tickle men. In fact, she loved it. Nothing got her hotter than having tickle tortured her victim for hours. And she was brutal. Nothing would make her show mercy. She had long, sharp red nails, which she used to dig into her ex husbands ribs. She would rake his feet with hair brushes and metal forks. She would secure his head, and feather tickle his whole face until he cried, then do it some more. She spent hours on his poor cock, using nothing but light tickles with her fingers, and feathers across the tip of his cock. Then she would tickle his whole body some more. Often, sessions would last a couple of days. She had an extensive collection of tickle torture and bondage devices, feathers, many pairs of gloves, brushes, forks, electric wands, vibrating dildos, gags, ropes, cuffs...
To say she was a sadistic tickler was an understatement!
Her ex husband was willing to endure the torture, as he had a raging foot fetish, and was rewarded after every session with his favorite, a face full of very smelly nylon soles. He loved smelly nylon feet, and Marie would not wash her feet for days, just for him. She owned nearly two hundred pairs of stockings, all of which she had worn for days in her old converse shoes, just to build up the smell for him. She would often stuff a couple of pairs in his mouth before ball gagging him, and tie him spread-eagled to their large bed with some well worn stockings. Then, she would reward him for indulging her fetish, by indulging his. She would simply rub her ripe feet all over his face, and wiggle her fragrant nylon soles centimeters from his face, letting him take in the smell.
Marie, however, HATED being tickled. The slightest poke, or feather stroke made her SCREAM out loud. She was actually scared of being tickled, and way more secretive to tickling than any normal lady. Every part of her body was so unbearably ticklish, and she often had nightmares of being tickled by far too many hands to count. As long as she was doing the tickling though, she was quite happy, and even more horny.
They were divorced now, ever since the affair she had. Tickling one man was not enough for her, and when he found out, they had separated, and finally divorced.
He had moved from the house months ago, and all his things were gone. Marie was getting on with her life, working from home. She was happy to live alone these days. She could see whomever she wanted, and tickle as many men as she desired.
Things started to happen in the house though...
Gloves, which should have been in the glove drawer, were found in her bed. Forks in the kitchen drawer, appeared in her shower. Drawers full of clothes were found open. Skirts and dresses were mysteriously re-arranged in her large walk-in wardrobe. Lipsticks, nail polish, and make up would go missing from her bathroom cabinet for days, only to re-appear on her coffee table.
Her huge collection of stockings, which she hadn`t bothered to wash, seemed to have tied themselves into impossible knots, then mysteriously untied themselves.
Marie simply put it down to the stress of the divorce, and figured she was imagining things, or simply being absent minded.
Then the noises started...
The rattling of cutlery in her kitchen drawer... The sound of drawers opening in other rooms... Bumps from the wardrobe... Knocks on the door, when no one was there. The swish of nylon on nylon. The snap of knicker elastic.
And laughter? She heard laughter more than once! Faint, and brief, but almost deranged! It was an insane laughter, half laugh half scream. A distance away, occasionally in another room in the house.
As if this wasn`t spooky enough, she started seeing movement in the house, just in the very corner of her eye. A ruffle in the laundry basket. A corner of a duvet folding over. A shoe tapping. A glove walking on all fingers like a hand, crawling under the bed. A fork falling on the floor. Nail polish bottles unscrewing themselves. Lipstick twisting out of the tube on its own. A pair of ankle stockings, wiggling in the laundry basket, as if real invisible feet were inside them.
It was almost like she would see these things from the corner of her eye, and when she jumped with fright at the movement, and turned to look, there was of course, nothing. How could there be? Things moving on there own, indeed! She was simply tired. That`s all.
But then, the sensations of feeling started... She actually thought she was feeling touch.
At first, it was very light, and quick, like a quick finger touch on her shoulder, or what felt like a fly on the back of her knee. Almost un-noticeable. She would look, and swat at whatever was bugging her, and not think about it at all. One evening, as she sat watching television, she had kicked off her slippers, quite involuntarily, as if her stockings had moved her legs for her.
Then, one morning, as she was dressing and had finished putting on her cream-coloured knickers, something grabbed her butt. She yelped, and spun around, but saw nothing. But she definitely felt something squeeze her bum! It was as if her knickers had done it themselves!
"Ok...that was weird," she said. She looked around the room and checked once more, but nothing was there. She continued to dress, putting on her cream colored bra, her sheer black stockings (I must get those washed, she thought), black t-shirts and old jeans. She put on her old converse, which made her feet smell so delightful, put on her lipstick, put her hair in pigtails with a couple of hairbands and set about her day.
The next sensation happened an hour later. In her garden, something pinched her nipples. Marie gasped, and looked down at her chest. Her nipples were going hard, and the tingle of pleasure gave way to a mild fear. There was nobody there to have touched her! But she felt a definite pinch! What was going on?
Without her knowledge, her hairbands tightened on their own on her pigtails...
"OW!!!!" She yelped. She had felt her hair being pulled! Just for a couple of seconds, but it damn near pulled her head back!
Panic set in, and Marie bolted for the house.
She got inside and shut the door without locking it. She just stood there, by the door, quite aware of what had just happened. There was something going on in this house, and she was starting to believe all she had thought she had witnessed over the last few weeks...
Then, she felt her stockings re-arranging themselves on her legs. It was only slight movement, but it was certain. Her shoelaces tightened on her feet, her bra seemed to shrink, and her knickers seemed as if they were pulsating over her skin. Her t-shirt started to ruffle itself, and she felt something goose her sides. This made her scream and laugh out loud. She was being tickled! It was quick, but a tickle nonetheless! Then another! On her armpits this time. Then on her tummy!!
"AaaahhHHH!! NO!! HAHA!" Marie screamed at every strange tickle sensation. Panic set in. She made a run for the door, which gave the telltale click of the lock going. She went for the keys, which flew off the hook before she could reach. They slid under the heavy cooker, where she had no chance of getting them.
Another tickle from her t-shirt. Another grope from her knickers. Another pinch from her bra...
"Nooo!! Oh, oh! What`s going on?" she screamed and yelped.
One of many laundry baskets sat near the washing machine, full of dirty stockings which had never been washed, and worn underwear. Marie looked in terror, as eight stockings reared from the basket, slid from the basket like tentacles, and moved across the floor towards her...
She ran across the room, but then her shoes seemed to take over, tightening on her feet and slowing her down. Then her jeans seemed to wrap tight around her legs, and hold her in place, her whole lower-body standing stock still. Marie screamed in fright, attempting to undo her jeans and get them off. Every time she undid the button, it would do itself back up, as would the zip. She tore at her belt, which re-did itself back up as quickly as she undid it...
The stockings were sliding closer, being followed by even more pairs from the dirty laundry basket. She screamed for help as they wound their way up her legs, around her waist, stretching out and wrapping round her arms, pinning them securely to her side. She struggled, but the stockings were too many and strong. More stockings snaked up her body, and a particularly nasty smelling pair circled her face, and stopped at her mouth.
Oh, god no...NO! Don`t do it, she thought to herself hopelessly. She shut her mouth tight so the stockings could not enter. Just as she did, her t-shirt goosed her sides and armpits continously, and she felt her jeans dig in hard on her knees.
The dirty nylons slid in her mouth, and balled up, as another stocking gagged her.
She thrashed her head around for a second, but the living clothes held her in place, and she could not move. Petrified, she cried with fear. Her shoes and jeans walked her over to her kitchen table. A chair pulled itself out, and her jeans made her sit down on it, and camly raised her legs onto the table, feet together. Her screams were muffled by her nylon gag, and the taste of her own feet filled her mouth.
Her shoes untied themselves, took themselves off and walked across the table, stopping at the opposite end. Marie was still wearing the sheer black stockings, which held her feet tightly in place and her jeans held her legs firmly on the table. The rattling sound came from the cutlery drawer again.
Oh god--no... It dawned on her what was about to happen.
The drawer opened, and ten metal eating forks flew from their place, floating a few inches from Marie`s exposed soles. Her eyes widened with fear as her muffled cries went unheard. The forks attacked immediately, scratching up and down her nylon soles, poking and jabbing, not hurting, just sending jolts of ticklish sensation all over the bottoms of her feet.
Marie was utterly helpless and securely bound. She couldn`t even move her feet against the powerful grip of her own clothes...
The fork tickling would not stop. Five minutes. Then ten. Soon a half an hour passed with nothing but the constant tickling of Marie`s soles. Finally after forty five minutes, the forks backed off.
Marie stopped screaming, struggling against her stocking ropes which still would not budge. Then the strangest sensation started to happen on her soles; her own stockings were scratching her feet! She soon saw them rip themselves away from her feet, splitting with the ripping sound that only nylon can make, exposing her bare feet. She could finally move her feet!
Unfortunately, it was the only part of her body she could move. She saw that her nails were bare, and even among all the terror and tickle torture, she wished she had painted them this morning. No sooner had she thought it, than she heard the bathroom cabinet open upstairs, along with some other clatter...
It almost made her forget about the forks, which suddenly attacked again.
Somehow, being able to move her feet made the tickling worse. Whichever way she moved her feet, the forks would follow, and torment her bare soles. She covered one sole with the other, which would then be relentlessly tickled by the forks. When she had to swap and cover the other foot, it would be tickled until she swapped again.
After another 45 minutes, the forks suddenly stopped, dropping with a clang to the table. Marie gasped and moaned with relief.
Her shoes came back to life and walked across the table towards her, placing themselves back on her feet and tying on their own. Still gagged, and her arms pinned to her sides by the stocking ropes, her jeans and shoes lifted her legs off the table. She was pulled up to a standing position.
Poor Marie was helpless as she was walked out of the kitchen and into her laundry room, which was full of dirty clothes, stockings, gloves, dresses, underwear, leggings, and all manners of dirty laundry. The clothes began to twitch and move as she was forcibly walked into the room against her will...