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The graceful Lady Enara has been known throughout the ages as one of the fairest dames in all the land. Though her beauty and poise are unparalleled, the true source of her glamour is her integrity - many suitors will turn away dejected as she shuns their attempts to buy her love. Enara values craftsmanship, she values effort, she cannot be bought with gold or silver. 

This is why her two most persistent and admirable suitors are the knight-smith Eric and the poet Orion.

Although Eric knows that Enara has never wielded a sword or held a shield, he still forges a delicate decorative set of armour emblazoned with her signature rearing unicorn; meanwhile Orion spins blossoming descriptions of her honesty and attitude in long, bouncing scrolls. The humble but fearsome smith and the sensitive, lithe poet - who will claim Enara's hand?!

The lady takes no pleasure in watching long, drawn-out debates or vicious bouts of jousting - not for her affection, anyway. While they can be a good laugh on a bright day, it's no way to pick a lover. So she has her own test for the pair of sweethearts...

Strung up nude on her silken sheets, Enara lays out the rules for her dearest suitors. Sitting between them, she'll turn her attentions to their helpless bound soles, and TICKLE them!

(Orion turns pale. Eric begins to nervously, pre-emptively laugh.)

Silky gloves, fluffy feathers, later a soft horsehair brush or maybe even a scratchy stylus that has penned countless letters of diplomacy - this is so much more exciting a use for it! Fingers dart over the smith's huge, plush arches, digging into the soft balls of his feet; the feather dances up and down the poet's slim soles and make his toes helplessly curl.

But the rules, of course!

The first man to beg for mercy and cry for the tickling to stop loses. A lady of Enara's caliber requires a man of fortitude and discipline! And self-control: if either man ejaculates solely from the sole-service, he will be declared the loser. She isn't going to make it easy on either of them - scribble-scratching Eric's heels and feathering between Orion's toes keeps both beaus laughing and squirming on the bed.

Who will yield first? Who will win the lady's hand?

Between a delicate, softly-spoken poet and a clumsy but well intentioned knight-smith, who would you pick - and whose soles would you rather rake and scratch and torment?

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