The Temple of Laughing Waters

PART ONE - JANELLE AND MEGAN

Janelle started to waken. The two young women had finished work at seven and decided to spend Friday evening in one of the local bars for a few drinks, some music and dancing, perhaps some socializing and meeting up with friends or new people. After five hours in the bar and twice as many drinks, they decided to take a taxi back to Megan's apartment. Janelle lived with parents, after all, and it would be best not to arrive in the very tipsy state she had brought onto herself. The doorman in front of the bar had waved for a taxi to take the girls home and a beautiful white luxury car driving by an elegant older gentleman came to a stop at the curb almost immediately. The doorman told the girls that this was a luxury car of the type used for airport service. Megan and, then, Janelle slid into the very soft leather rear seat of the car while the driver gave the doorman a tip of some amount in his hand. Megan told the older gentleman her address as she got in and that was the last thing Janelle would remember.

Janelle was an adorable 22-year old girl with long auburn colored hair. She was quite small, standing only five feet two inches. She had worn a t-shirt and jeans to work with her favorite ankle height boots and socks. Megan was a pretty 20-year old with long blonde hair and a height of five feet four inches. She, too, had worn a t-shirt and jeans but with flipflops.

As she started to waken, Janelle instinctively felt that something was wrong, in that she was flat on her back, chilly and unable to move. Her big brown eyes flashed open. She tried to lift her head but was unable to do so as a restraint around her neck held her down. She looked at one of her wrists and saw that her arms had been secured over her head and out to the side, being held in place by metal restraints around her wrists and upper arms. A metal bar had been placed across the palm of each of her hands and she could wrap her fingers around the bar and grasp it as she clenched her fist. She looked down the sides of her body and saw that each of her legs was similarly held in place with metal restraints around her ankles and thighs, just above her knees. She felt the coolness of the air around her feet, which almost dangled off the end of each leg piece, and her genitals which were widely exposed by her legs being spread apart. She felt another restraint, similar to the one on her neck, around her waist. Never before had she felt so helpless, so totally exposed, so terribly vulnerable.

"Oh, my God," screamed Megan, as she came to and saw the predicament she was in, "what the hell is this?"

Both of the girls had been placed on x-shaped tables with about four feet of open space between them. The were spread-eagled like two starfish, one dark-haired and one blonde, with their arms and legs spread widely apart at the extreme corner ends of the tables. It was impossible to move other than to squirm or struggle a little.

"Janelle, what the hell is going on," she cried, "where are we?"

"I don't know," Janelle responded, "but I'll bet that old man driving that big car last night had something to do with it."

"Right you are, young lady," said the older gentleman as he approached the two girls, "and I will be quite pleased to explain everything to you."

"Let us go," cried Megan, as she struggled against her restraints, "you can't do this to us!"

The older man was very articulate and highly educated, handsome and very elegantly dressed, clearly fearless and perfectly in control.

"I'm afraid I can," he said, as he softly stroked his finger over Megan's body, "and I did."

"Please let us go," whimpered Megan, "I don't want to get hurt or, even worse, killed."

Slowly and deliberately he ran his fingers down the sides of Megan's body from her armpits to her hips, over her stomach, around her breasts, along the outside of her legs, along the inside of her legs, finally arriving at the soles of her feet. He softly but intensely tickled the soles of her feet as he taunted her.

"My, my," he teased, "but your little feet are cold. Even so, they are so soft and pretty."

"Sto-ho-hop," Megan cried, "that ti-hi-hicles!"

"As it should," he said, turning to Janelle's feet on the other table, "and what of your little feet, are they as soft and pretty as her's?"

Janelle stiffened her body and bit into her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud as he delicately stroked the soles of her little size six feet. Taking notice of her reaction, the man released a lever and raised the foot end of her table perhaps a foot higher and consequently lowering her head by an equal distance.

"Well, well," said the man, sniffing Janelle's feet now at the height of his face, "these feet are indeed very pretty and smell wonderful. Let's see if they taste as good as they look and smell."

He firmly took hold of Janelle's left foot and licked it carefully, starting at her toes, moving to the little hollow underneath and thoroughly licking the spaces between, then kissing and licking the sensitive instep and the ultra sensitive little space behind the crease on the ball of her foot. Janelle lost control of her laughter, squirmed and struggled, clenched her fists and rolled her head from side to side as she laughed and screamed.

"No-ho-ho, plea-hee-heese," she cried, "you're ki-hi-hiling me-hee-hee!"

After a time, her right foot received the same attention. Then he brought the table back to a level position as Janelle's chest was heaving and her sweaty, tear-stained face still rolling from side to side.

"Look at you now," he said, as he tweaked Janelle's nipples and patted her genitals, "did you really think you could resist me?"

"What about you," he said, turning to Megan, "are your feet as tasty as her's?"

"Oh, no," blurted Megan, "her feet are much nicer than mine."

"I see," he said, "perhaps I'll have to taste them later. In the meantime, I have set my computer system to take some measurements from the two of you. I'll be back a little later."

"Please tell us where we are," asked Janelle, "and why you brought us here!"

"Alright, ladies," he said, "you are in the Temple of Laughing Waters and you are both going to give sacrifice tonight. Nobody will be hurt or killed but you might wish that was the case before we are done."

"I see you have both started to offer a sacrifice already," he said, as he looked at the puddle beneath each table, "that's very good!"

"What the hell is the Temple of Laughing Waters," asked Megan, as she watched the man leave the room.

"I don't know," said Janelle, "but I'm sure we're going to find out."

Suddenly the computer monitors above the tables came to life. One of the stainless doors along the wall nearest each girl opened and several probes appeared and came toward them. On the computer screen above, the girls could see exactly what the camera on the probe was seeing as it neared its position.

To their horror, every part of each girl's body was measured with the data entered into the computer system of the facility. For the most part, the measuring process was unnerving but touchless. The probes did, however, take careful measurements around each girl's genitalia including the depth and width of her vagina which not only required touching her but entering the most private part of her body. The probes also touched each girl's feet, moving them into different positions, and measuring every small part of each foot. Both girls screamed and struggled as the measurements were being taken and Megan became frantic when the probe forced itself inside of her. Janelle had a little more control of her reactions than Megan.

"The Temple of Laughing Waters," he suddenly said as he entered the room, startling both girls, "actually began in the south seas. Whenever different tribes went to battle, be it on the same larger island or from different islands, captives would almost always be taken. The female captives, if they were young and pretty, would be staked out on the ground in the same position as you are now, and their feet would be tickled by the women of the winning tribe, usually four young women per foot each with a feather specially collected for the purpose. When the women became tired, fresh new women would take their place. In this manner, the tickling would continue often for many days."

"Unbeknown to those south sea islanders, the laughter of very pretty young women was pleasing to God, in their case, the various island deities they believed in. Hawaii and the various islands of the south seas were therefore favored with beautiful scenery, a fabulous climate, powerful male warriors, beautiful women with fantastic dance skills, and so on. Even today, Hawaii and Tahiti, among other more remote islands, are the most beautiful places on the planet."

"We were told by the religious leaders of these various islands that a great benefit came from the lengthy tickling of these pretty young women with its resultant laughter, particularly if they were sexually aroused at the time. If they wet themselves during the process, as was always the case, the water that was collected became a sacrifice along with their laughter, and was to become known as 'laughing waters'."

"From this knowledge, we developed a worldwide religious affiliation that we refer to as 'The Temple of Laughing Waters'. Today, we honor these traditions through the laughter and waters of young maidens we capture at regular intervals. We believe that this brings great fortune upon ourselves, our interests and our homes. We believe, also, that great fortune befalls the sacrificial maidens providing they don't allow any others to acquire this knowledge."

"That's a very nice story," said Janelle, "and I guess all you want is to tickle us for a while."

"No, God, Janelle, I can't stand to be tickled," cried Megan.

"Neither can I," said Janelle, "but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Quite right," said the man, "and since we don't have a number of young girls available to perform the tickling ritual on you, we have developed a computer program to do that for us. When the system is turned on, it will begin to arouse one of you and bring you to a sexual climax. After you orgasm, the system will tickle your feet until fifty minutes, including the sexual arousal and orgasm have passed. You will then have a ten-minute rest and the process will begin again. The tenth, and last session, will continue the tickling until the full sixty minutes has elapsed."

"Then the longer it takes us to have an orgasm, the less we get tickled," said Janelle.

"In theory, that is true," he said, "but the computer system will monitor you constantly and detect if you are resisting the sexual climax. If so, it will simply increase its efforts to bring you to orgasm."

"Oh, my God," cried Meghan, "I'll die."

"As I said, the system will start with one of you," he explained, "while it will start with the other half an hour later. In that way, at least one of you will be laughing at any time during the ten hour sacrificial period, and the laughter will be uninterruped by rest breaks."

"Then you had better start with me," said Janelle.

"I don't think so," he said, "you have a lot more spirit than your friend there and you strike me as a much braver young woman. I'll let you listen to your friend for half an hour before your turn comes."

Although Janelle didn't see the man push a start switch or anything like that, she heard the whirring of machinery nearby, beneath the table she thought. She was aware of something rising up from beneath her and coming to rest between her legs. She felt its lubricated tip against her vagina. It had an almost imperceptible vibration but did not seem to be moving.

She was quite right in her perception. A large mechanical device with a big dildo had raised up from beneath the table and was now poised to push its way inside of her. The pulsations were very slight but very intimidating.

Janelle also felt the devices position themselves near the soles of her feet and placing a clamp around her big toes. She couldn't tell if they were equipped with brushes, feathers or something else. But they, too, were pulsating and very intimidating. It was as though they were letting her know of their presence and their intent to tickle the soles of her feet without actually tickling her.

"No-o-o," Megan screamed as the rape machine forced itself inside of her. It started pumping slowly in and out of her vagina, which was sopping wet because of the pulsations, and worked its way in and out increasing its speed and intensity as it went. The computer had already measured her to determine the exact size of dildo required and the depth to which it should go for the greatest impact without hurting her.

No matter what Megan did, the machine was relentless. She cried and she screamed, she squirmed and she struggled, all to no avail. The machine's mission was to bring her to orgasm and it accomplished its task within six minutes.

"No-o-o, plea-hea-hease," she cried, laughing uncontrollably as the machines at her feet started to tickle her. No matter how she cried, howled, pleaded, squirmed and struggled, the tickling continued.

Janelle tried desperately to keep her composure as she lay on the big table awaiting her turn. It was almost impossible, though, with the pulsating tip of the dildo against her vaginal lips and the pulsating tickle machines against the soles of her feet. She looked at Megan to console her but the tickling had taken Megan into another realm of existence.

It was maddening listening to Megan, watching her tormented body squirm and struggle against her bonds, all the while being tomented by the devices attached to her own body. Still, she could do nothing but wait.

She was amazed how open she felt around her genitals with her that wide apart. She felt currents of cool air like little feathers all around her pussy. Then, the pulsations in the piston placed against her vagina increased and it easily entered her. She was amazed that she was already sopping wet. It pushed its way deeply into her and then withdrew, stopping slightly short of exiting her vagina. It then moved back in and out, in and out, in and out. She fought the feelings overwhelming her nervous system with all her might as the dildo moved in and out faster and faster. No matter how hard she resisted, it was futile, and she had an orgasm within nine minutes. She kicked her legs in desperation as she came trying to drive her feet further away in the hope of some relief.

"Oh, my God," she told herself, "here we go!"

The brushes, if that's what they were, against the soles of her feet started to move. Instinctively, she flexed her toes but the clamp on her big toes only allowed them to move a certain distance. She grit her teeth, squeezed her eyes, clenched her fists and struggled against her restraints as the sensations reached her brain. She knew her feet were ticklish but she could not believe how ticklish they were after an orgasm and half an hour of the pulsations on her feet. She screamed and laughed uncontrollably.

After a time that seemed like an eternity, the tickling stopped. She panted and panted as she tried to catch her breath. Megan, her face and entire body bright pink in color, was laughing wildly on the table next to her as she was well into her second hour-long session. Janelle knew she had pissed herself at least twice while she was being tickled.

"That is the first of your ten hours out of the way," the man said.

"Please, I can't take it anymore," she said, "please let me go now."

"You can take a lot more than that little bit of tickling on your pretty little feet," he said, as he brushed the hair off her sweating, tear-stained face and kissed her, "and you will."

"No, please, no more," she pleaded, as she felt the piston of the rape machine between her legs start to move again. It was going to be a long, long night, one that would, indeed, be pleasing to the deities.