Preface:
For a few years now, I’ve been paying escorts to tie them up and tickle them. I don’t really have time to date, am time limited on weekends with work, paying $200 for an hour has just felt easier to pay, I don’t look for full service, I’m strictly there to feed my itch. On that note, here’s my story.
Earlier this year, I was on an escorts website, and I came across Stacey – a 25 year old beautiful women working to pay her way. But something happened in this occasion that blew my mind, and is absolutely the first time this has ever happened in my experience as a tickling fetishist. In big bold writing in her ‘about me’ section, she wrote, “I have a huge tickling kink. I don’t know how it came to be, but I get so turned on by tickling and sex.”
After I had managed to collect my jaw off of the ground, I re-read what was written a few times over and slapped myself in the face a few times just to make sure I wasn’t in some twilight zone elevated state of consciousness. I must message this woman, I thought.
I sent her a text introducing myself. I tried not to sound too excited. Boy oh boy, I’m not sure what you’re body type when it comes to tickling, but these photos of Stacey were sending me sideways. A pin-up, inside locker-door stand-out body, with just the right amount of tattoos, a perfectly toned belly and body to complement a beautiful face covered by brightly dyed, exotic pink hair. Stacey was half Egyptian, half Mauritian, and was one of those women who showed her belly off. Short, cropped tops, with the word ‘kinky’ tattooed above her belly button. It sounds too fucking good to be true, and when my phone beeped notifying me of an sms response, I wiped the sweat off the palm of my hands and steadied myself for the response.
“Yes, I do have a tickling kink, I am really shy about it but I would love to meet up.”
After messaging each other in relation to expectations and mutual consent, she advised he would be working out of a venue in a couple of nights and that I should come drop in. $200 for 1 hour. We met up on this particularly warm night, in less than desirable venue, and one of the first things we acknowledged was that we were both 420 friendly, and at the moment, were both under the influence of THC, which probably made her a little more shy and embarrassed, but also provided a level of comfort and relaxation.
Stacey bursts into the room wearing a short, tight denim skirt, long tanned legs, perky breasts and a body, I really can’t find adequate words to describe her body, but incredible. I hate the song, never listen to it ever, but that John Mayer song where he says “your body is a wonderland”, her body truly is. I could worship it...for days at a time.
She keeps her family opal attached to her belly ring, has ‘kinky’ written above her belly button, has a tattoo of a skull with a clock for a scalp, and other pieces that tell the story of a woman who’s seen more than she should’ve but has captured wisdom and guidance from her own lived experiences. It was a playful hour. I wanted her to see me as genuine and I wanted to be transparent. I want to find a tickle partner who I can regularly play with, who finds mutual pleasure and enjoyment from the tickling fetish, and is happy to do this under a mutual agreement of NSA.
“Let’s definitely catch up again,” she said with a smile. (By the way, I’m purposefully not mentioning the tickling itself from this hour, as I’m saving it for later…)
We exchanged phone numbers.
A few days pass…
I flicked her a message. “Hey Stacey, I’m keen to catch up again, but I’m not really sure how comfortable I am to continue paying large amounts of money to tickle women. If you’re open to exploring this fetish with me simply on a strictly NSA basis, I’d love to see you again.”
Not long afterwards, I received a reply from her. “Yeah, I’m OK with that. Let’s talk on the phone about expectations and stuff, and organise a time to catch up.”
Over the next few days we became more comfortable with each other, back and forth sms’s, just really small talk and finding the right opportunity to catch up. We caught up again briefly for a coffee, no tickling, just to get to know each other a little more and build trust. Then, last Thursday, I booked an Airbnb, 8 floors up, corner city view room, right across from a major park here where I live. Everything was locked in and confirmed with Stacey, she was bringing an overnight bag, I had a big, big work opportunity on the Friday, so the overall vibe was one of excitement, huge anticipation and overwhelmingly positive vibes.
Stacey arrives at about 8pm, it had cooled down, she was wearing tight leggings, and a thin sports jacket. I collect her from the lobby. Her dark pink hair stood out, she’s a strikingly beautiful woman, making eyes turn at every moment, some comfortable looks, from others probably uncomfortable looks.
I took Stacey up to our room and we stood in there for a while, just admiring the views and talking and chatting a little bit. We rolled up a jazzie, headed downstairs to smoke it, and as it had cooled down a fair bit, she immediately cuddled up to me. I placed one hand underneath her sports jacket. She was wearing one of her short crop tops that exposed her beautifully toned belly. My dick could’ve jumped out of its pants. There’s something intimate about touching skin in these contexts that for me is such a turn on.
Once back upstairs and nicely high and chilled, Stacey resigned to the bathroom to shower and freshen up. On her way to the shower, she asks “Do you like henna?” I said I do. Henna is a style of using a particular dye to paint specific patterns onto the body parts of women, used traditionally in Hindu culture, if you google, “henna” you’ll know what I mean.
As Stacey showered, I prepared the room. A rolled the king sized bed out from against the wall into the middle of the room, and tied rope and cuffs to each of the four corners of the bed. Stacey came out of the shower, dressed in leggings and a crop top. We headed over to the bed and I began to gentle stroke my fingers across her belly, sides and thighs. Stacey is extremely ticklish. Even the slightest touch sends her into fits of giggles. OK, game time.
“We are going to have two sessions tonight. You can be fully clothed for this session and then later, I want you naked. I am going to tickle you extensively, and I am going to make you cum over and over again.”
A compliant Stacey gave me her hands and I tied them high above her head to the corners of the bed. As I was tying her, I asked her to say what the safe word is. “Red,” she said.
“That’s right, at any moment, if you need a break, you say ‘red’, and I will stop immediately.” I moved down to her feet, tying both of them together so her legs were together. Once she was secured, I put some music on, and then came back over to the bed with a bag I had with me.
“I bought some tickle toys we can play with,” I said. Stacey’s eyes widened with anticipation and excitement. I pulled out a bottle of baby oil. “This will be put to good use for our second session later, you can trust me on that,” I methodically put the bottle beside her so she could see it clearly. I took a packet of different sized makeup brushes that I’d picked up for $6 from the pharmacy. There were an assortment of brushes of different sizes. “Have you ever been tickled with brushes before?” I teased. “Do you want to know what it feels like?” Before Stacey could respond, I began to brush her belly with one of the brushes. Immediately, Stacey reacted, giggling and playfully protesting. “Wow, isn’t it lucky that this brush looks like it would just fit perfectly in your belly button?”
“No, don’t…” Stacey began to protest before being interrupted by the sensations of the brush circling around the outside of her belly button. “There’s not much you can do, see Stacey,” I teased. “I could just dangle this above your belly button all night.” I could see Stacey liked being teased. It was so fucking hot, I can’t even describe. Then something happened, that blew my mind. Remember that henna question she’d asked? To the left of her belly, but near her hip, she’d written in pink dye whilst getting ready in the bathroom, “Tickle me”. Well…I damn near passed out, I was sitting down and still felt like I needed to have a sit down.
Quick context: Tickle central ticklers had a teasing thing they did with ticklees, “I’m the ticklemaster, and you’re the tickle slave. What would tickle slave do to make tickle master happy?” and the ticklee has no choice but to be forced to say “Please tickle me, ticklemaster.” I saw her feet dangling off the end of the bed. “These brushes on your feet, I wonder how they’d go.” And then I realised I still had some goodies in my bag. “Oh, I almost forgot,” I pulled a toothbrush and a hair brush out from the bag. “These will be fun too.”
“Oh my god,” she laughed, as the dawning predicament was realised.
“Look, I can even sit down here on the chair and be comfortable as I tickle your feet.” I sat at the end of the bed, and began to stroke the brushes up and down the top of her right foot. “Hahahaahhaha,” she laughed. I methodically (there’s a word I’ll end up using heaps) avoided the brush touching the bottom of her right foot as I wanted the anticipation to overwhelm her. I moved over to the top of her left foot, making sure I stoked the edges of her foot so she almost felt it on the bottom but still not quite, and just as Stacy felt almost complacent by the tickling, I topsy-turvyed the game and began stroking the bottoms of both feet with multiple brushes at the same time. This sent her into a wild fit of laughter. “You’re going to make me snort!” she mustered between laughs.
How is Stacey’s laugh? Thankfully, her incredible ticklishness is complemented by this sexy, cute, laugh that wouldn’t at all break any decibel records, but is the kind of laugh, well, I suppose in my experience, would come from a women who truly loves and is getting turned on by the act of being tickled. It’s a laugh comprised of helplessness, joy, complete internal pleasure and contentment. Thankfully also, it is not a laugh that would attract the attention of neighbours or hotel staff.
After few minutes of brush tickle torture, I began to use my fingers. This really started to get Stacey going. She’s very compliant, she doesn’t try to get away from the tickling, every now and then, she’ll even try as hard as she can to keep the bottoms of her feet raised so I can tickle them. She protests and begs in the cutest ways, “please don’t,” she asks. “Oh, no, not that please, I can’t.” I get extremely turned on by teasing in tickling, and I’m also a huge upperbody and belly fan. So, I moved from her feet, and lay down on the bed to the left of her and placed my right arm under he back so I my left and right hands had a firm straddle on both sides of her. Stacey knew what was coming. I whispered in her ear.
“This is just the beginning, you know,” I teased. “I’m going to tickle you all night and there isn’t anything you can do about it.” I began to pinch the sides of her stomach and she wiggled as much as she could but couldn’t do much. I was too strong. “You’re so ticklish, Stace,” I continued. I can put my fingers and anywhere along here, see, and you just react so sexy.” I can’t authentically recapture all of the things that were said between us over the course of the night, but rest assured, the teasing and dirty talk was really paramount to the overall sexual experience. And she loves it. You could see every single time I whispered something to her whilst tickling her, her body would react, shudder and give herself to me and my control. I got up, circled around her, just admiring her beautiful she looks, tied, her belly and body stretched out, completely at my whim and mercy.
I stopped above her head, right at her armpits, and I began drawing my fingers down her arm from her elbow towards her armpits. Stacey squirmed, she giggled, she moaned. “Oh, please, no-no, I can’t, not this please…” she wastefully protested. Methodically, I would stop right near her armpits, and then start again, over and over again, sending her wild in anticipation – her hips shuddering. “I’ve never ever experienced anything like this,” she announced. “You turn me on like you wouldn’t believe.”
Everything she said felt genuine, felt authentic, it felt true to her and liberating for her. It made me feel so happy and satisfied. The fact that as an escort, she would experience all kinds of men with different wants and desires, that the experience of that work hadn’t tainted her pure love for tickling. It was like she kept this one for herself and for the right person. In those moments, I saw Stacey like I saw myself. Two uniquely sexually deprived humans yearning for intimacy and genuine connection – but on our own terms. As the reader who may’ve experienced sessions similar to this, you might relate to the feeling of liberation. It’s hard to explain, but it’s only a language we as tickling enthusiasts could understand, and in that hotel room, that night, Stacey and I felt it together.
Back to those sexy armpits. So, these are those armpits that are hollow right in those sweet ticklish spots. As soon as my fingers reached those armpits, they would drop into those hollows area, trapping themselves fiendishly and sending Stacey into hysterics. Because I was positioned above her head too, we looked at each other, I kissed her forehead, let our faces caress and let her feel comfort from my closeness, even though at the same time, I was truly getting into some proper tickling now. “I’m going to just start with one finger on each armpit,” I teased. “Just one at a time…” and over five or so minutes added one more finger, until finally, it was an all out onslaught of underarm tickles, and Stacey squealed helplessly. And just as soon as I had stopped tickling her armpits, I suggested, “Should we do the same thing to your sides and belly now?”
Before Stacey had a chance to really absorb the tickling she’d endured on her armpits, I straddled her again like before, and she giggled in anticipation. I looked at her. I wonder how I must look, hungry, fiendish, clearly getting off, I’d like to hope in those moments, I look more sexy than just primitive and horny with an evil glint in my eyes, but I’m not holding my breath, so please, as readers, you can muster up whatever image of me you’d like.
I asked Stacey. “How do you make ticklemaster happy, tickleslave?” Stacey smiled, giggling in a rebellious way. She didn’t even answer. She just looked at me, with this expression that said, “please don’t but please do.” She didn’t say what I wanted her to say, but that was on purpose. She knew it would get me riled up, and it did. Off to work I went, up and down her sides, across her belly, all fingers wiggling, only changing technique stop and pinch particularly sensitive areas.
“Hahahahaha !!” she laughed. I dangled my hand above her belly.
“You’re belly button is about to get it, I’m not sure you’re ready for this,” I teased.
“No-no, I can’t, not in the belly but….HAHAHAHAHAHA !!” her laughs interrupted her protests. I want you to imagine tickling your favourite spot and written write fucking there, is not just the tattooed work “Kinky”, but also “Tickle me.” Utterly mindblowing, it was.
I could see the baby oil in the corner of my eyes. “You know…” I began. “I know I mentioned that we’d be saving that baby oil for the second session later, but I just really think you would like it if we just tested the baby oil out.” I picked the baby oil up and began to make my way back down to my seat at her feet. I saw Stacey’s toes begin to curl even before I’d continued speaking. “But I don’t want to get baby oil on your clothes, so there’s only really one spot for me to use the baby oil for now, and I think you’ll really like it.” I began rubbing baby oil all across her feet. She moaned in anticipation. I made sure to get all my fingers between her toes so I could get the baby oil in every single area. Then I simply let my fingers glide and dance away softly across her feet.
“This is worse !” she screamed. “This is way, way worse ! Hahahhahaahhah !!” For a couple of minutes, I didn’t let up. No break, no sympathy, unrelenting foot tickling, based off the back of me recognising that in my life, I haven’t really been into feet, but have watched so many foot tickling videos and yearned to appreciate all there was to appreciate about tickling feet. My verdict? Fucking great.
I went back up to her armpits and give them a good tickle again, with the little baby oil that was on my hands still. I felt so overwhelmed by the gratification I was receiving from this, I looked at Stacey and said, “You are making me so fucking hard, I’m telling you, it’s ridiculous.”
Stacey moaned. “It turns me on even more knowing that it’s turning you on.” Well said, Stacey.
I think this is the summit then, right? This must be the peak, the climax of energy, shared, between two humans, with no “traditional” sexual contact, yet still absolutely oozing with sexual chemistry based off of the simple action of touch and intimacy within a power dynamic.
Well, that’s what I thought in that moment anyway. Little was I to know, it was only going to get hotter. I reckon I first tied her down about 11pm and our first session finished up about 1am.
We took a break, I untied her. I kissed her hands. I kissed her wrists. I massaged where the ties had perhaps rubbed against her skin. I wanted her to feel important. I wanted her to feel special. This after-care stuff is so important, maybe even just as much as the session itself. Any tickler or dom out there who thinks otherwise, get out of the game. Let’s remember that Stacey didn’t really know me. Yeah, sure I said I have a tickling fetish. But really, Stacey gave her trust and made herself vulnerable, let me tie her down to a bed in a hotel room and have my absolute way with her body from head to toe. Proper after-care is so essential and the absolute least I could do.
It's funny, when we aren’t tickling, we don’t really talk about it. So for the next hour, we smoked another jazzie, and Stacey was really keen to show me a cousin of her who is a professional belly dancer. We watched a couple of youtube videos, and I must admit, this belly dancer was the best belly dancer I’d ever seen. So sensual, teasing, sexual and hypnotising. Just incredible.
Stacey went to freshen up, and came back in a dressing gown with no clothes underneath. Round 2 was upon us. She disrobed, I tied her to the bed again, but this time I tied her legs apart. As I was tying her up, I was teasing her. “You do realise that once your last hand goes into this cuff, that the tickling you’re about to endure will be nothing like you’ve ever experienced before?”
Stacey replied, “I haven’t experienced anything like this before, ever…not like this.” Please, Stacey, you need to stop saying this stuff because I am going to have a heart attack and die from pleasure. In fact, whilst I haven’t quoted myself saying that, I think I probably did ramble something silly of that nature.
"So Stacey," I began. "This body of yours...it's too much. I'm going to have to use some more baby oil, I think." Stacey protested playfully. I placed the bottle above her belly.
"No-no, don't..." she said as the cold baby oil made contact with her smooth, deliciously tanned and toned skin. I put the bottle down, and probably the most memorable moment of the entire night unfolded right then. As soon as my slippery hands made contact with her belly and began rubbing the oil, she immediately went into hysterics, protesting again, "this is way worse, please, please, wait-wait...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!"
It goes without saying that the combination of beautiful soft skin, baby oil, slippery fingers and ticklish reactions send me hot and heavy. But in that moment, I almost had to stop for a second. I said, "Holy shit, Stace, you are literally going to make my dick jump out of my pants !!" Now, I'm not particularly colourful when it comes to sexual comments. In fact, in all my teasing, it's more about, "I'm going to drive you crazy" or "I'm going to make you cum over and over," I purposefully avoid gratuitous language. I think it can somewhat take away from the beauty of the experience.
But in that memorable moment, of baby oil + toned belly + tickling fingers, I guess I just could no longer contain myself either. It was too hot.
I think my favourite way to tickle the upperbody is to straddle by lying next to the ticklee and placing my right arm under their body so I can grip with both hands. We had placed a towel under Stacey’s body as there was a fair bit of body oil slipping about the place. As I pinched and tickle tortured her belly, sides and underarms with my right hand, I began to slowly make my way down her body with my left hand, making sure that she felt the anticipation of knowing where that hand was going, whilst still at the same time being distracted by my left hand tickles. Stacey was beside herself. As I moved my left hand further down towards her vagina, I purposefully let my hand slip past her vaginal area and along her legs where I begin to pinch and tickle her inner thighs, as well as her hips.
“Oh, not that !” Stacey protested between laughs. “You’re making me squeal again ! Nobody can make me squeal !” Just as she said that, I slipped my left hand over her clit, and Stacey’s body left out audible shake in gratification. She was very, very wet. In fact, what’s that Cardi B track called? Something about a mop and bucket? “Please don’t judge me,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” I asked as I rubbed her clit.
“About how wet I am,” she continued between heavy breaths. I kissed her belly, I kissed her sides, I kissed her cheek and then I gave her a peck on the lips. I was mindful. Stacey had given herself to me. What a beautiful privilege.
I continued rubbing her clit and slowly transitioned to fingering her. One finger at first, but as she began moaning more, two fingers, in and out, circling inside her, then going back to rubbing her clit, over again. I hadn’t forgotten about my right hand on the other side of her body though. I noticed something particularly hot. When I dangled my fingers just next to her ticklish spots, for example, her underarm, and just teased that I was about to make contact with her skin and tickle her, she would moan, shudder and really respond in a sexually heightened way. As soon as my fingers made contact with her skin, it would be like she would have a mini orgasm. Every. Single. Time.
I realised that this was something she really, really, really liked. So, I went with it. Up and down her body with my right hand, I stopped at particularly sensitive areas and just dangled my fingers. I’d tease even more by poking for a brief second and then dangling my fingers again, letting her feel the ticklish contact for a split second as I fingered her, sending her wild. At one point, my right hand was at her inner thigh, in contact with my left hand fingering her, and I would just swap between hands, letting her feel those sensations together and separately.
Stacey came, once, then twice, and really, I couldn’t really keep up because the whole experience together was so unique and special, that it became very difficult to discriminate what was more of the turn on, the sexual contact or the tickling, or both, individually, at the same time, who knows, probably all of it honestly.
Amongst all of that happening, at some point though, I stopped fingering her. My hand - moist and wet from a combo of juices and baby oil slowly glided up towards her slippery belly button. “I would be doing tonight a disservice if I didn’t do the following…” I indicated to Stacey.
“What’s that?” she asked nervously. I slapped my finger into her belly button moving it furiously as it slipped in and out and all around her belly. “OMG, stop it !!” she squealed.
“Nope,” I responded. “I’m going to do this all night, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” I amped things up a little, quickly returning to her clit, rubbing her some more, than back up her body, with both hands, tickling her everywhere, sending her hysterical.
“You can’t…” she protested in a teasing way.
“I can and I will,” I was adamant. “What are you planning on doing about it anyway?” I increased the tickling up a notch, this time really going to work on her sides, making sure that she could feel nothing but the extreme tickles. “Cuz from where I am, you’re not in much of a position to be giving orders to the ticklemaster !”
I grabbed her inner thigh and pinched. This sent a shock thru her body and she flailed as much as she could with my body weight restricting her. “How about I give the orders here tickle slave, OK?” I continued. “What do tickle slaves say to make tickle master happy, huh?”
“No-“ Stacey put up a fight.
“No?” I moved my hand into an even more sensitive area, her hips.
“OK OK OK !!” she screamed. “Tickle me, please, tickle me !”
“Goooooood tickle slave,” I reassured her, as I took tickling up just one more notch. “That’s a really good tickle slave.” After a few more seconds of incredibly intense tickling, I stopped and watched Stacey recover. She breathed heavily, sweating, exhausted, and on cloud 9.
“Wow,” she said finally as I untied her. “That was way more intense then last time we saw each other.” I handed her a bottle of water. She took a couple of great sips and just kind of checked herself with her hands. She smiled at me and then she reached for my penis.
And this my TMF friends, is where the story ends.
Thanks for reading.
- Xionking
For a few years now, I’ve been paying escorts to tie them up and tickle them. I don’t really have time to date, am time limited on weekends with work, paying $200 for an hour has just felt easier to pay, I don’t look for full service, I’m strictly there to feed my itch. On that note, here’s my story.
Earlier this year, I was on an escorts website, and I came across Stacey – a 25 year old beautiful women working to pay her way. But something happened in this occasion that blew my mind, and is absolutely the first time this has ever happened in my experience as a tickling fetishist. In big bold writing in her ‘about me’ section, she wrote, “I have a huge tickling kink. I don’t know how it came to be, but I get so turned on by tickling and sex.”
After I had managed to collect my jaw off of the ground, I re-read what was written a few times over and slapped myself in the face a few times just to make sure I wasn’t in some twilight zone elevated state of consciousness. I must message this woman, I thought.
I sent her a text introducing myself. I tried not to sound too excited. Boy oh boy, I’m not sure what you’re body type when it comes to tickling, but these photos of Stacey were sending me sideways. A pin-up, inside locker-door stand-out body, with just the right amount of tattoos, a perfectly toned belly and body to complement a beautiful face covered by brightly dyed, exotic pink hair. Stacey was half Egyptian, half Mauritian, and was one of those women who showed her belly off. Short, cropped tops, with the word ‘kinky’ tattooed above her belly button. It sounds too fucking good to be true, and when my phone beeped notifying me of an sms response, I wiped the sweat off the palm of my hands and steadied myself for the response.
“Yes, I do have a tickling kink, I am really shy about it but I would love to meet up.”
After messaging each other in relation to expectations and mutual consent, she advised he would be working out of a venue in a couple of nights and that I should come drop in. $200 for 1 hour. We met up on this particularly warm night, in less than desirable venue, and one of the first things we acknowledged was that we were both 420 friendly, and at the moment, were both under the influence of THC, which probably made her a little more shy and embarrassed, but also provided a level of comfort and relaxation.
Stacey bursts into the room wearing a short, tight denim skirt, long tanned legs, perky breasts and a body, I really can’t find adequate words to describe her body, but incredible. I hate the song, never listen to it ever, but that John Mayer song where he says “your body is a wonderland”, her body truly is. I could worship it...for days at a time.
She keeps her family opal attached to her belly ring, has ‘kinky’ written above her belly button, has a tattoo of a skull with a clock for a scalp, and other pieces that tell the story of a woman who’s seen more than she should’ve but has captured wisdom and guidance from her own lived experiences. It was a playful hour. I wanted her to see me as genuine and I wanted to be transparent. I want to find a tickle partner who I can regularly play with, who finds mutual pleasure and enjoyment from the tickling fetish, and is happy to do this under a mutual agreement of NSA.
“Let’s definitely catch up again,” she said with a smile. (By the way, I’m purposefully not mentioning the tickling itself from this hour, as I’m saving it for later…)
We exchanged phone numbers.
A few days pass…
I flicked her a message. “Hey Stacey, I’m keen to catch up again, but I’m not really sure how comfortable I am to continue paying large amounts of money to tickle women. If you’re open to exploring this fetish with me simply on a strictly NSA basis, I’d love to see you again.”
Not long afterwards, I received a reply from her. “Yeah, I’m OK with that. Let’s talk on the phone about expectations and stuff, and organise a time to catch up.”
Over the next few days we became more comfortable with each other, back and forth sms’s, just really small talk and finding the right opportunity to catch up. We caught up again briefly for a coffee, no tickling, just to get to know each other a little more and build trust. Then, last Thursday, I booked an Airbnb, 8 floors up, corner city view room, right across from a major park here where I live. Everything was locked in and confirmed with Stacey, she was bringing an overnight bag, I had a big, big work opportunity on the Friday, so the overall vibe was one of excitement, huge anticipation and overwhelmingly positive vibes.
Stacey arrives at about 8pm, it had cooled down, she was wearing tight leggings, and a thin sports jacket. I collect her from the lobby. Her dark pink hair stood out, she’s a strikingly beautiful woman, making eyes turn at every moment, some comfortable looks, from others probably uncomfortable looks.
I took Stacey up to our room and we stood in there for a while, just admiring the views and talking and chatting a little bit. We rolled up a jazzie, headed downstairs to smoke it, and as it had cooled down a fair bit, she immediately cuddled up to me. I placed one hand underneath her sports jacket. She was wearing one of her short crop tops that exposed her beautifully toned belly. My dick could’ve jumped out of its pants. There’s something intimate about touching skin in these contexts that for me is such a turn on.
Once back upstairs and nicely high and chilled, Stacey resigned to the bathroom to shower and freshen up. On her way to the shower, she asks “Do you like henna?” I said I do. Henna is a style of using a particular dye to paint specific patterns onto the body parts of women, used traditionally in Hindu culture, if you google, “henna” you’ll know what I mean.
As Stacey showered, I prepared the room. A rolled the king sized bed out from against the wall into the middle of the room, and tied rope and cuffs to each of the four corners of the bed. Stacey came out of the shower, dressed in leggings and a crop top. We headed over to the bed and I began to gentle stroke my fingers across her belly, sides and thighs. Stacey is extremely ticklish. Even the slightest touch sends her into fits of giggles. OK, game time.
“We are going to have two sessions tonight. You can be fully clothed for this session and then later, I want you naked. I am going to tickle you extensively, and I am going to make you cum over and over again.”
A compliant Stacey gave me her hands and I tied them high above her head to the corners of the bed. As I was tying her, I asked her to say what the safe word is. “Red,” she said.
“That’s right, at any moment, if you need a break, you say ‘red’, and I will stop immediately.” I moved down to her feet, tying both of them together so her legs were together. Once she was secured, I put some music on, and then came back over to the bed with a bag I had with me.
“I bought some tickle toys we can play with,” I said. Stacey’s eyes widened with anticipation and excitement. I pulled out a bottle of baby oil. “This will be put to good use for our second session later, you can trust me on that,” I methodically put the bottle beside her so she could see it clearly. I took a packet of different sized makeup brushes that I’d picked up for $6 from the pharmacy. There were an assortment of brushes of different sizes. “Have you ever been tickled with brushes before?” I teased. “Do you want to know what it feels like?” Before Stacey could respond, I began to brush her belly with one of the brushes. Immediately, Stacey reacted, giggling and playfully protesting. “Wow, isn’t it lucky that this brush looks like it would just fit perfectly in your belly button?”
“No, don’t…” Stacey began to protest before being interrupted by the sensations of the brush circling around the outside of her belly button. “There’s not much you can do, see Stacey,” I teased. “I could just dangle this above your belly button all night.” I could see Stacey liked being teased. It was so fucking hot, I can’t even describe. Then something happened, that blew my mind. Remember that henna question she’d asked? To the left of her belly, but near her hip, she’d written in pink dye whilst getting ready in the bathroom, “Tickle me”. Well…I damn near passed out, I was sitting down and still felt like I needed to have a sit down.
Quick context: Tickle central ticklers had a teasing thing they did with ticklees, “I’m the ticklemaster, and you’re the tickle slave. What would tickle slave do to make tickle master happy?” and the ticklee has no choice but to be forced to say “Please tickle me, ticklemaster.” I saw her feet dangling off the end of the bed. “These brushes on your feet, I wonder how they’d go.” And then I realised I still had some goodies in my bag. “Oh, I almost forgot,” I pulled a toothbrush and a hair brush out from the bag. “These will be fun too.”
“Oh my god,” she laughed, as the dawning predicament was realised.
“Look, I can even sit down here on the chair and be comfortable as I tickle your feet.” I sat at the end of the bed, and began to stroke the brushes up and down the top of her right foot. “Hahahaahhaha,” she laughed. I methodically (there’s a word I’ll end up using heaps) avoided the brush touching the bottom of her right foot as I wanted the anticipation to overwhelm her. I moved over to the top of her left foot, making sure I stoked the edges of her foot so she almost felt it on the bottom but still not quite, and just as Stacy felt almost complacent by the tickling, I topsy-turvyed the game and began stroking the bottoms of both feet with multiple brushes at the same time. This sent her into a wild fit of laughter. “You’re going to make me snort!” she mustered between laughs.
How is Stacey’s laugh? Thankfully, her incredible ticklishness is complemented by this sexy, cute, laugh that wouldn’t at all break any decibel records, but is the kind of laugh, well, I suppose in my experience, would come from a women who truly loves and is getting turned on by the act of being tickled. It’s a laugh comprised of helplessness, joy, complete internal pleasure and contentment. Thankfully also, it is not a laugh that would attract the attention of neighbours or hotel staff.
After few minutes of brush tickle torture, I began to use my fingers. This really started to get Stacey going. She’s very compliant, she doesn’t try to get away from the tickling, every now and then, she’ll even try as hard as she can to keep the bottoms of her feet raised so I can tickle them. She protests and begs in the cutest ways, “please don’t,” she asks. “Oh, no, not that please, I can’t.” I get extremely turned on by teasing in tickling, and I’m also a huge upperbody and belly fan. So, I moved from her feet, and lay down on the bed to the left of her and placed my right arm under he back so I my left and right hands had a firm straddle on both sides of her. Stacey knew what was coming. I whispered in her ear.
“This is just the beginning, you know,” I teased. “I’m going to tickle you all night and there isn’t anything you can do about it.” I began to pinch the sides of her stomach and she wiggled as much as she could but couldn’t do much. I was too strong. “You’re so ticklish, Stace,” I continued. I can put my fingers and anywhere along here, see, and you just react so sexy.” I can’t authentically recapture all of the things that were said between us over the course of the night, but rest assured, the teasing and dirty talk was really paramount to the overall sexual experience. And she loves it. You could see every single time I whispered something to her whilst tickling her, her body would react, shudder and give herself to me and my control. I got up, circled around her, just admiring her beautiful she looks, tied, her belly and body stretched out, completely at my whim and mercy.
I stopped above her head, right at her armpits, and I began drawing my fingers down her arm from her elbow towards her armpits. Stacey squirmed, she giggled, she moaned. “Oh, please, no-no, I can’t, not this please…” she wastefully protested. Methodically, I would stop right near her armpits, and then start again, over and over again, sending her wild in anticipation – her hips shuddering. “I’ve never ever experienced anything like this,” she announced. “You turn me on like you wouldn’t believe.”
Everything she said felt genuine, felt authentic, it felt true to her and liberating for her. It made me feel so happy and satisfied. The fact that as an escort, she would experience all kinds of men with different wants and desires, that the experience of that work hadn’t tainted her pure love for tickling. It was like she kept this one for herself and for the right person. In those moments, I saw Stacey like I saw myself. Two uniquely sexually deprived humans yearning for intimacy and genuine connection – but on our own terms. As the reader who may’ve experienced sessions similar to this, you might relate to the feeling of liberation. It’s hard to explain, but it’s only a language we as tickling enthusiasts could understand, and in that hotel room, that night, Stacey and I felt it together.
Back to those sexy armpits. So, these are those armpits that are hollow right in those sweet ticklish spots. As soon as my fingers reached those armpits, they would drop into those hollows area, trapping themselves fiendishly and sending Stacey into hysterics. Because I was positioned above her head too, we looked at each other, I kissed her forehead, let our faces caress and let her feel comfort from my closeness, even though at the same time, I was truly getting into some proper tickling now. “I’m going to just start with one finger on each armpit,” I teased. “Just one at a time…” and over five or so minutes added one more finger, until finally, it was an all out onslaught of underarm tickles, and Stacey squealed helplessly. And just as soon as I had stopped tickling her armpits, I suggested, “Should we do the same thing to your sides and belly now?”
Before Stacey had a chance to really absorb the tickling she’d endured on her armpits, I straddled her again like before, and she giggled in anticipation. I looked at her. I wonder how I must look, hungry, fiendish, clearly getting off, I’d like to hope in those moments, I look more sexy than just primitive and horny with an evil glint in my eyes, but I’m not holding my breath, so please, as readers, you can muster up whatever image of me you’d like.
I asked Stacey. “How do you make ticklemaster happy, tickleslave?” Stacey smiled, giggling in a rebellious way. She didn’t even answer. She just looked at me, with this expression that said, “please don’t but please do.” She didn’t say what I wanted her to say, but that was on purpose. She knew it would get me riled up, and it did. Off to work I went, up and down her sides, across her belly, all fingers wiggling, only changing technique stop and pinch particularly sensitive areas.
“Hahahahaha !!” she laughed. I dangled my hand above her belly.
“You’re belly button is about to get it, I’m not sure you’re ready for this,” I teased.
“No-no, I can’t, not in the belly but….HAHAHAHAHAHA !!” her laughs interrupted her protests. I want you to imagine tickling your favourite spot and written write fucking there, is not just the tattooed work “Kinky”, but also “Tickle me.” Utterly mindblowing, it was.
I could see the baby oil in the corner of my eyes. “You know…” I began. “I know I mentioned that we’d be saving that baby oil for the second session later, but I just really think you would like it if we just tested the baby oil out.” I picked the baby oil up and began to make my way back down to my seat at her feet. I saw Stacey’s toes begin to curl even before I’d continued speaking. “But I don’t want to get baby oil on your clothes, so there’s only really one spot for me to use the baby oil for now, and I think you’ll really like it.” I began rubbing baby oil all across her feet. She moaned in anticipation. I made sure to get all my fingers between her toes so I could get the baby oil in every single area. Then I simply let my fingers glide and dance away softly across her feet.
“This is worse !” she screamed. “This is way, way worse ! Hahahhahaahhah !!” For a couple of minutes, I didn’t let up. No break, no sympathy, unrelenting foot tickling, based off the back of me recognising that in my life, I haven’t really been into feet, but have watched so many foot tickling videos and yearned to appreciate all there was to appreciate about tickling feet. My verdict? Fucking great.
I went back up to her armpits and give them a good tickle again, with the little baby oil that was on my hands still. I felt so overwhelmed by the gratification I was receiving from this, I looked at Stacey and said, “You are making me so fucking hard, I’m telling you, it’s ridiculous.”
Stacey moaned. “It turns me on even more knowing that it’s turning you on.” Well said, Stacey.
I think this is the summit then, right? This must be the peak, the climax of energy, shared, between two humans, with no “traditional” sexual contact, yet still absolutely oozing with sexual chemistry based off of the simple action of touch and intimacy within a power dynamic.
Well, that’s what I thought in that moment anyway. Little was I to know, it was only going to get hotter. I reckon I first tied her down about 11pm and our first session finished up about 1am.
We took a break, I untied her. I kissed her hands. I kissed her wrists. I massaged where the ties had perhaps rubbed against her skin. I wanted her to feel important. I wanted her to feel special. This after-care stuff is so important, maybe even just as much as the session itself. Any tickler or dom out there who thinks otherwise, get out of the game. Let’s remember that Stacey didn’t really know me. Yeah, sure I said I have a tickling fetish. But really, Stacey gave her trust and made herself vulnerable, let me tie her down to a bed in a hotel room and have my absolute way with her body from head to toe. Proper after-care is so essential and the absolute least I could do.
It's funny, when we aren’t tickling, we don’t really talk about it. So for the next hour, we smoked another jazzie, and Stacey was really keen to show me a cousin of her who is a professional belly dancer. We watched a couple of youtube videos, and I must admit, this belly dancer was the best belly dancer I’d ever seen. So sensual, teasing, sexual and hypnotising. Just incredible.
Stacey went to freshen up, and came back in a dressing gown with no clothes underneath. Round 2 was upon us. She disrobed, I tied her to the bed again, but this time I tied her legs apart. As I was tying her up, I was teasing her. “You do realise that once your last hand goes into this cuff, that the tickling you’re about to endure will be nothing like you’ve ever experienced before?”
Stacey replied, “I haven’t experienced anything like this before, ever…not like this.” Please, Stacey, you need to stop saying this stuff because I am going to have a heart attack and die from pleasure. In fact, whilst I haven’t quoted myself saying that, I think I probably did ramble something silly of that nature.
"So Stacey," I began. "This body of yours...it's too much. I'm going to have to use some more baby oil, I think." Stacey protested playfully. I placed the bottle above her belly.
"No-no, don't..." she said as the cold baby oil made contact with her smooth, deliciously tanned and toned skin. I put the bottle down, and probably the most memorable moment of the entire night unfolded right then. As soon as my slippery hands made contact with her belly and began rubbing the oil, she immediately went into hysterics, protesting again, "this is way worse, please, please, wait-wait...HAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!"
It goes without saying that the combination of beautiful soft skin, baby oil, slippery fingers and ticklish reactions send me hot and heavy. But in that moment, I almost had to stop for a second. I said, "Holy shit, Stace, you are literally going to make my dick jump out of my pants !!" Now, I'm not particularly colourful when it comes to sexual comments. In fact, in all my teasing, it's more about, "I'm going to drive you crazy" or "I'm going to make you cum over and over," I purposefully avoid gratuitous language. I think it can somewhat take away from the beauty of the experience.
But in that memorable moment, of baby oil + toned belly + tickling fingers, I guess I just could no longer contain myself either. It was too hot.
I think my favourite way to tickle the upperbody is to straddle by lying next to the ticklee and placing my right arm under their body so I can grip with both hands. We had placed a towel under Stacey’s body as there was a fair bit of body oil slipping about the place. As I pinched and tickle tortured her belly, sides and underarms with my right hand, I began to slowly make my way down her body with my left hand, making sure that she felt the anticipation of knowing where that hand was going, whilst still at the same time being distracted by my left hand tickles. Stacey was beside herself. As I moved my left hand further down towards her vagina, I purposefully let my hand slip past her vaginal area and along her legs where I begin to pinch and tickle her inner thighs, as well as her hips.
“Oh, not that !” Stacey protested between laughs. “You’re making me squeal again ! Nobody can make me squeal !” Just as she said that, I slipped my left hand over her clit, and Stacey’s body left out audible shake in gratification. She was very, very wet. In fact, what’s that Cardi B track called? Something about a mop and bucket? “Please don’t judge me,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” I asked as I rubbed her clit.
“About how wet I am,” she continued between heavy breaths. I kissed her belly, I kissed her sides, I kissed her cheek and then I gave her a peck on the lips. I was mindful. Stacey had given herself to me. What a beautiful privilege.
I continued rubbing her clit and slowly transitioned to fingering her. One finger at first, but as she began moaning more, two fingers, in and out, circling inside her, then going back to rubbing her clit, over again. I hadn’t forgotten about my right hand on the other side of her body though. I noticed something particularly hot. When I dangled my fingers just next to her ticklish spots, for example, her underarm, and just teased that I was about to make contact with her skin and tickle her, she would moan, shudder and really respond in a sexually heightened way. As soon as my fingers made contact with her skin, it would be like she would have a mini orgasm. Every. Single. Time.
I realised that this was something she really, really, really liked. So, I went with it. Up and down her body with my right hand, I stopped at particularly sensitive areas and just dangled my fingers. I’d tease even more by poking for a brief second and then dangling my fingers again, letting her feel the ticklish contact for a split second as I fingered her, sending her wild. At one point, my right hand was at her inner thigh, in contact with my left hand fingering her, and I would just swap between hands, letting her feel those sensations together and separately.
Stacey came, once, then twice, and really, I couldn’t really keep up because the whole experience together was so unique and special, that it became very difficult to discriminate what was more of the turn on, the sexual contact or the tickling, or both, individually, at the same time, who knows, probably all of it honestly.
Amongst all of that happening, at some point though, I stopped fingering her. My hand - moist and wet from a combo of juices and baby oil slowly glided up towards her slippery belly button. “I would be doing tonight a disservice if I didn’t do the following…” I indicated to Stacey.
“What’s that?” she asked nervously. I slapped my finger into her belly button moving it furiously as it slipped in and out and all around her belly. “OMG, stop it !!” she squealed.
“Nope,” I responded. “I’m going to do this all night, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” I amped things up a little, quickly returning to her clit, rubbing her some more, than back up her body, with both hands, tickling her everywhere, sending her hysterical.
“You can’t…” she protested in a teasing way.
“I can and I will,” I was adamant. “What are you planning on doing about it anyway?” I increased the tickling up a notch, this time really going to work on her sides, making sure that she could feel nothing but the extreme tickles. “Cuz from where I am, you’re not in much of a position to be giving orders to the ticklemaster !”
I grabbed her inner thigh and pinched. This sent a shock thru her body and she flailed as much as she could with my body weight restricting her. “How about I give the orders here tickle slave, OK?” I continued. “What do tickle slaves say to make tickle master happy, huh?”
“No-“ Stacey put up a fight.
“No?” I moved my hand into an even more sensitive area, her hips.
“OK OK OK !!” she screamed. “Tickle me, please, tickle me !”
“Goooooood tickle slave,” I reassured her, as I took tickling up just one more notch. “That’s a really good tickle slave.” After a few more seconds of incredibly intense tickling, I stopped and watched Stacey recover. She breathed heavily, sweating, exhausted, and on cloud 9.
“Wow,” she said finally as I untied her. “That was way more intense then last time we saw each other.” I handed her a bottle of water. She took a couple of great sips and just kind of checked herself with her hands. She smiled at me and then she reached for my penis.
And this my TMF friends, is where the story ends.
Thanks for reading.
- Xionking
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
