Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
- Joined
- Apr 17, 2001
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- 10,295
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The foggy haze of forced sleep was starting to lift as I took in my surroundings. Forced? No. Maybe that wasn’t the right word. Those responsible for my predicament wouldn’t have chosen the release of sleep to force upon me. It would have been too kind. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that sleep (or some facsimile thereof) had temporarily rescued me. The first part of my circumstance to come barging through the door of my awareness was purely physical. I was tired. I hurt.
And I couldn’t move.
Ah yes, now it started coming back. I was still seated in the same chair that had been my home and prison for the last few hours. My once upright position had receded into a slouch held in place only by the ropes that fastened me to the chair. My arms were still behind my back, my wrists lashed together with turn after turn of thick rope. The same kept each of my ankles secured tightly to a leg of the chair. I was in the same dark room, lit by the same single bulb dangling like a spider at the end of its electric web-strand. Dark corners, musty odor…yes, I hadn’t been moved during my (brief? I had no way of knowing) reverie. But…wait…
There was something different. A table. At least it looked like a table of some sort. Draped over it was a tarp or blanket or sheet…and under that was…what? I couldn’t tell. Between the minimal light in the room and the maximum darkness in my brain I couldn’t make out any kind of shape that would give away what lay on the table. There was a slight noise, but I couldn’t put my finger on its familiarity either. As I attempted to bore my awareness through a brick wall of confusion, I heard a sound that I did recognize.
The door behind me. Opening.
Of all the sounds I wanted to hear, that one wasn’t exactly on the Top Ten List. Sirens would have been nice. Or the Marines. What I was treated to was a voice. Not just any voice, mind you, but one that dripped with venom as if a large snake had taken an evolutionary leap and mastered English.
“I see we’re awake, Mr. King…how nice.” The voice hissed. An evil voice, a sarcastically serious voice. A female voice.
The woman the voice belonged to could easily have taken the same evolutionary leap that I’d previously mentioned. She moved like a serpent, stared through me like a lizard and somehow managed to keep every ounce of femininity intact. Had the situation been different, she would have been a woman I’d dive on in two seconds. But looks alone do not make a person, and there was a lot more to this particular person than a beautiful face and an exquisite body. Even in my current state, I had to remind myself that she wasn’t something to be desired. I knew her only as “Tara”, although I’m sure that wasn’t her real name. Tara was tall, lean and stood with a confidence unseen in most men, let alone members of the fairer sex. Her short red hair framed an oval face with full lips and almost Oriental-looking eyes. Then again, that could have simply been an illusion, her sneer forcing a cute face into something elegant yet evil. Her frame was encased in what had to have been leather…or maybe rubber. All I knew was that it was black and covered her from neck to ankles like a second skin, further enhancing her reptilian likeness. The one thing that remained truly feminine about Tara was her scent, which filled my nostrils as she leaned in close and whispered in my ear.
“Are you ready to talk yet?”
“Go to hell,” I somehow managed to retort. Real original, I know, but I was in no shape for mind games at this point.
“I thought as much,” Tara replied as she pulled away from me, allowing her body to rub against mine as she stood, “you are a tough one, I’ll give you that. Perhaps sterner measures are called for. Louis?”
With a clap of her hand, Tara summoned something that could only be described as a human mountain. From behind me I heard footsteps that I swore shook the chair I was tied to. I didn’t have long to think on this as this “Louis” passed in front of me, eclipsing the solitary lightbulb like the shadow of the Earth passing in front of the Moon. Standing easily six-ten or something close to that, this man was one big muscle. Dressed in a pair of leather pants and some sort of strap-work across his barrel of a chest, Louis was something between a nightmare and a romance-novel cover. His long dark hair fell to the center of his broad back and over the two slabs of meat that served as his pectorals.
This didn’t look good.
“You know,” I managed to say with some amount of flippance, “if this is the guy you’ve got to work me over, I’m gonna be dead after the first punch and you won’t get anything out of me.”
“Oh no, Mr. King,” the mysterious Tara replied as she clicked her long fingernails together, “Louis here isn’t going to hurt you, in fact, he’s not even going to touch you.”
She let that hang in the dank air for a moment, and I have to admit that it was effective. Part of me was relieved that Captain Beefslab over there wasn’t going to push my face through the back of my head, but the more cerebral part of my brain started churning at what other possibilities Tara had dreamed up.
“You know, Mr. King,” Tara’s voice slithered as her form did the same around the room, “there are times when torturing someone simply doesn’t work. A shame, I know, as I so love to inflict distress. However, if one has information that is so vital to another’s survival that the other will perish without it, that person will usually die before giving it up. That is why I’ve decided that your body, your nerve endings, your physical distress is no longer of any concern to me. Only what’s locked in that little brain of yours.” Tara tapped me condescendingly on the forehead as she said this. “There are times when only the suffering of others can bring one around to see the sense in cooperation. You see, Mr. King, you do have one weakness, one flaw. You are far too nice for espionage. Not regarding yourself, of course…I commend you for your apparent lack of concern over your own well-being. But, I wonder if that lack of concern carries over to the ones you love…”
As that phrase hung in the air with the other mind-games Tara had thrown at me, she and Louis had worked their way over to the mysterious table. As the fog had started to lift from my consciousness and the pieces started to fit together, my heart skipped a beat. In the split second before Tara revealed her plan, the pieces became one big picture that I did not want to see finished.
Tara stood at the end of the table and grabbed onto the blanket or sheet or whatever it was that covered the contents of said table and pulled with a flourish. The dramatic effect wasn’t wasted, as my blood rushed to my head upon seeing what was under the covering.
It was my fiancé, Kim. She was laid back on the table and strapped down at all possible points. She was stretched tightly, too tightly from the look on her face. Kim was still wearing the outfit she’d left the house with that morning that seemed like a thousand years ago. White tank-top and light-blue skirt. I bought it for her two days ago. It was to be for a special occasion, one that escaped me at the moment in the face of the nightmare that was forming in front of me. Her arms were high over her head, her body stretched to its limits, her legs strapped down like the rest of her, her ankles together and fastened with strong leather strapping. In stark contrast to her dire predicament, the small blue pumps that I’d bought her were still on her feet, a lone piece of normality and innocence in the face of this horror. Kim looked at me with wide eyes, unable to express her fear. She was gagged thoroughly. I could see the edges of some kind of cloth poking out from the sides of several passes of black electrical tape that held the mouth-stuffing in place. Even without her voice, the fear bored into my head from the look on her face alone.
“So help me God, if you so much as…” I started but was cut off by Tara.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…you’ll break free and kill us both, blah, blah, blah. So predictable. Well, until that happens, how about we let Big Boy here keep your little girlfriend entertained?”
“If you hurt her…” I tried, but was again cut off. Not by Tara this time, but by a sight that caught my voice in my throat…and forced Kim’s through her gag.
Louis had wordlessly approached the table that my struggling fiancé was bound to, and was doing nothing more harmful than removing Kim’s shoes. Although I had a hard time getting my mind to grasp the reality of what I was sure was about to happen, I knew that Tara had done her homework.
“Now, from what I know,” Tara began as if answering my unspoken thought, “little Kim here is extremely ticklish, isn’t she?”
“MMNNPPHH!!!!” Kim bellowed into her gag as the pumps slipped off her feet and hit the floor with a dual Clunk.
“You see,” Tara continued, “Louis has a certain fascination with tormenting young women who just happen to be tied up…and ticklish. We’ve found that this form of torture can be so much more effective than pain. It lasts longer. It’s more intense. It can be applied virtually anywhere on the human body if done correctly, and leaves no marks. There’s almost no hope of passing out as one would from too severe a beating, and you can send torment into a victim’s brain over and over…and over…and over…”
I knew this was true. I had never thought that my situation would come to this. Kim was almost painfully ticklish. She couldn’t stand it, it wasn’t funny to her. It was torture and she was about to receive it unwillingly and with no way to stop it. I could stop it, but that wasn’t an option. The information was too valuable. It destroyed me, but I knew that Kim would simply have to hold out. Although Tara had researched a way to coerce me very well, she had overlooked a few things in her haste. There was a rescue coming, and I was sure Tara was unaware of it.
However, I wasn’t sure exactly when.
My conscience tore at me, but was stifled by the horrible sound of Kim’s moaning as the big man’s fingers started stroking her bare and helpless feet.
“She really doesn’t like that at all, does she, Mr. King?” Tara dripped as she circled around the table holding Kim hostage.
“You think this is going to get me to talk?” I said as calmly as I could, “Kim’s a strong girl, she can take it…”
At once, Kim let out a sound that could have been suffering, could have been confused anger. I was leaning toward the latter. As much as it pained me, I knew she was going through a hell of an ordeal. I knew she hated to be tickled and I also knew that she was praying for me to spill my guts and get her out of her dire predicament.
As Tara and I bantered back and forth, Louis was raking my girl’s soles with his fingers. Kim was bucking wildly, as much as she could, anyway. The straps were holding her tight, pinning her body to the table of torture. Tara continued to menace Kim with a few pokes here and there under her arms or on her sides. She was also taking a few moments here and there to whisper in Kim’s ear. I don’t know what she was saying, but each time she did it, Kim whimpered and looked over at me, pleading with her eyes and screaming through her tight gag.
“It seems that our little captive has wonderfully ticklish feet!” Tara said as she lined up next to the hulking Louis, tickling away oblivious to anything else. “Perhaps a woman’s touch would be more appropriate here?”
With a quick signal from his mistress, Louis grabbed hold of both sets of Kim’s toes and bent them slightly backward, encasing them in a vise-like grip. Tara bent down slightly and clawed her fingers, her long sharp nails poised to attack the helplessly bare skin of my fiancés’ soles.
“Are you sure you don’t feel like telling me everything and saving this little girl some intense torment?” she asked.
“Go to hell, Tara!” I snapped back, “There’s no way you’re getting anything out of me!” I felt terrible, but Kim would have to hold out. I knew that she wouldn’t be permanently damaged, and I had to keep that in mind as I played with her well-being. A little longer…I hoped.
“As you wish…” Tara said as she brought her nails to bear.
The shriek that escaped Kim’s mouth-filling gag almost broke me right there. Tara raked her nails slowly down the length of the bare soles before her. Louis’ grip never loosened as Tara’s nails skittered over every raw nerve ending on Kim’s feet. Up and down the soles, digging into the very center of her arches and then over the base of her toes. Kim was squealing and thrashing her head from side to side as the tickling shot a dagger of sensation up her legs and into her brain. All the while, Tara nonchalantly asked me to tell her what she wanted to know, I refused and she kept tickling Kim’s tied feet. Louis had let go of her toes, and Tara was working Kim’s feet over in a blur of motion. Those nails stroked every nerve, tickled every crease, every inch of bare flesh as my poor fiancé struggled against the cruel bonds.
After what seemed hours, Tara relented and approached me again. Kim was trying to catch her breath, glaring at me between recurring fits of giggles.
“How much more of this do you think she can take, Mr. King?” she asked me as she saddled up next to the chair I was tied to. “Louis is itching to start the next phase. Can you bear to watch little Kim over there suffer for real? That was just a warm-up, Mr. King…Kim has yet to truly suffer. Louis!”
As she barked the torturer’s name, Tara snapped her fingers and Louis obeyed. He grabbed a handful of Kim’s tank-top and in one movement ripped it off of Kim’s tiny frame. Hearing the material rip was akin to seeing Kim’s last defenses tear away. Louis wasn’t finished, moving down the length of the table and tearing off the small skirt. Kim lay now clad in only the small panties that covered the last of her modesty. Even in the predicament I was in, something stirred. The sight of Kim lying there, stretched out and strapped down, gagged and helpless, with a merciless tickler hovering over her near-naked body…God forgive me, but it turned me on a little. I tried to get Kim into things like this, albeit on a more personal and intimate level than this horror-show. It never worked, Kim was fearful of bondage and hated to be tickled, something I liked. Did Tara know this as well? What was she up to?
“She looks sweet, doesn’t she?” Tara purred in my ear, “I’ll bet there’s a part of you that can’t wait to see Louis tickle the crap out of the little bitch, huh? Big tough guy, not telling Miss Tara what she wants to know, but letting your poor little girlfriend take the brunt of the punishment. What a guy. Louis? Have fun…”
The slab of meat known as Louis didn’t toy with his victim, he went right to work. Standing at the head of the table, he lowered his hands into the hollows of Kim’s outstretched arms, wriggling his fingers over the bare armpits. The reaction was instantaneous. Kim didn’t so much scream into the gag…it was more like a very loud whimper, one mixed with tears of sound. The fingers of the torturer probed and prodded the smooth armpits of my helpless fiancé as she strained every muscled against the straps. The relatively light tickling was very quickly replaced by large fingers poking into her armpits and tickling hard. The sounds that escaped from Kim’s gag were bordering the horrible…
…and that wasn’t all that Tara had in mind.
As Louis continued torturing my fiancé, Tara had slipped her hand down the length of my body and rested it over my crotch. In my rather helpless position, it was nothing for her to make her way through the clothing of mine that wasn’t shredded and grab my now-stiff cock with one well-manicured hand.
“Admit it, Mr. King”, Tara purred as she began to slowly stroke, “a part of this is turning you on, isn’t it?”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I barked at her, “You think I’m going to spill the beans because you’re giving me a hand-job?”
“Oh no, quite the contrary…you’re going to tell me everything; not because I give you an orgasm…but because I won’t…”
And now the plan became clear. God forgive me, but seeing Kim getting tickle tortured while an evil bitch, albeit a very desirable one, was whacking me off started to get to me. Under another set of circumstances, this would have been great. But the animal part of my brain wanted to come something fierce, and Tara was playing me like a piano…or a flute to be more specific.
“Doesn’t she look hot like that?” Tara whispered in my ear as she stroked my stiff rod, “All tied up with Louis tickling her to no end?”
As I felt the desire in me build, I glanced at the table where Kim was in dire straits. Louis had moved to the center of the table and had his hands placed on Kim’s sides. As much as the tight straps would allow, she was bucking wildly. Louis had her in a tight grip and while her belly moved slightly back and forth, the two fingers he was using to dig into her sides never lost their point of contact. They tickled the same spot over and over as Kim was now laugh-crying into her gag. Just when I thought I was going to blow, Tara stopped.
“Awww…I’ll bet that ruined your short-term plans, didn’t it?” she asked icily.
And so the next half-hour began. Tara would start jerking me off while Louis tickled Kim. Tara would stop when she felt me ready to explode. As the near-uncontrollable sensations built up in me, I saw Kim get her sides tickled, her armpits stroked, her feet tickled…everything Louis could think of that made her howl and cry in unmitigated torment. Of course, Tara would stop at just the right (or wrong) time. It wasn’t long before the final straw was placed on the camel’s proverbial back.
Louis had hopped up onto the table and was straddling Kim’s tiny, tight body. His hands were a whirlwind of motion from the soft hollows of Kim’s armpits, down her hyperextended ribcage and all over her tight tummy. He was dead serious about causing Kim as much tickled torment as possible, and he knew what he was doing. During her torture, the huge man must have been mapping out her most ticklish places, and he hit all of them. Kim was a wreck, her gagged howls now little more than forced whimpers. She was in serious trouble. As he focused on her sides again, Kim’s weakest spot, right over her protruding hipbones…Tara started in on me again.
“How much more of this do you think the both of you can take, Mr. King?” she asked in a somewhat more desperate tone of voice, “Don’t you just love seeing her tickled like that? You want to come, don’t you? You can’t hold out anymore, can you? Just tell us what we want to know, dammit!”
I couldn’t hold out any longer. Tara’s plan, while a good one, was doomed to failure eventually. I exploded like never before in my life…
…and Tara didn’t stop.
She finished me off in a slow motion frenzy of sexual lust while Louis’ tickling of Kim lessened to an erotic tease. The world began to swim back into focus as reality, held at bay at the gates of my fantasy life, burst through.
Louis began unstrapping Kim as Tara released me from the chair that had been my prison for hours. As soon as we were both free, Kim rushed into my arms and embraced me…kissing me like we did when we were first dating.
“Thank you so much, honey!” she said between kisses, “I’ve been fantasizing about something like this for years! I can’t believe you actually made it happen!”
“Hey,” I replied, “it was my fantasy, too, hun! Not a cheap one, but a good one. Happy Birthday, my love!”
After catching our collective breaths and coming down from the high of a lifetime, Mistress Tara approached me. Louis was long-gone, and a better Dom Tara couldn’t have picked. The man was ruthless, just what my little Kimmie wanted.
“Thank you, Mr. King, for choosing us,” Tara said while planting a light kiss on my cheek and Kim’s, “and if you wish in the future to explore your rich fantasy life again, I hope you come back to Mistress Tara’s Vault. Perhaps you and your future wife would like to try the dominant side someday? I’m always available for my best customers.”
“Well, you know honey,” Kim whispered in my ear, “it’s only three months until YOUR birthday…”
The End
And I couldn’t move.
Ah yes, now it started coming back. I was still seated in the same chair that had been my home and prison for the last few hours. My once upright position had receded into a slouch held in place only by the ropes that fastened me to the chair. My arms were still behind my back, my wrists lashed together with turn after turn of thick rope. The same kept each of my ankles secured tightly to a leg of the chair. I was in the same dark room, lit by the same single bulb dangling like a spider at the end of its electric web-strand. Dark corners, musty odor…yes, I hadn’t been moved during my (brief? I had no way of knowing) reverie. But…wait…
There was something different. A table. At least it looked like a table of some sort. Draped over it was a tarp or blanket or sheet…and under that was…what? I couldn’t tell. Between the minimal light in the room and the maximum darkness in my brain I couldn’t make out any kind of shape that would give away what lay on the table. There was a slight noise, but I couldn’t put my finger on its familiarity either. As I attempted to bore my awareness through a brick wall of confusion, I heard a sound that I did recognize.
The door behind me. Opening.
Of all the sounds I wanted to hear, that one wasn’t exactly on the Top Ten List. Sirens would have been nice. Or the Marines. What I was treated to was a voice. Not just any voice, mind you, but one that dripped with venom as if a large snake had taken an evolutionary leap and mastered English.
“I see we’re awake, Mr. King…how nice.” The voice hissed. An evil voice, a sarcastically serious voice. A female voice.
The woman the voice belonged to could easily have taken the same evolutionary leap that I’d previously mentioned. She moved like a serpent, stared through me like a lizard and somehow managed to keep every ounce of femininity intact. Had the situation been different, she would have been a woman I’d dive on in two seconds. But looks alone do not make a person, and there was a lot more to this particular person than a beautiful face and an exquisite body. Even in my current state, I had to remind myself that she wasn’t something to be desired. I knew her only as “Tara”, although I’m sure that wasn’t her real name. Tara was tall, lean and stood with a confidence unseen in most men, let alone members of the fairer sex. Her short red hair framed an oval face with full lips and almost Oriental-looking eyes. Then again, that could have simply been an illusion, her sneer forcing a cute face into something elegant yet evil. Her frame was encased in what had to have been leather…or maybe rubber. All I knew was that it was black and covered her from neck to ankles like a second skin, further enhancing her reptilian likeness. The one thing that remained truly feminine about Tara was her scent, which filled my nostrils as she leaned in close and whispered in my ear.
“Are you ready to talk yet?”
“Go to hell,” I somehow managed to retort. Real original, I know, but I was in no shape for mind games at this point.
“I thought as much,” Tara replied as she pulled away from me, allowing her body to rub against mine as she stood, “you are a tough one, I’ll give you that. Perhaps sterner measures are called for. Louis?”
With a clap of her hand, Tara summoned something that could only be described as a human mountain. From behind me I heard footsteps that I swore shook the chair I was tied to. I didn’t have long to think on this as this “Louis” passed in front of me, eclipsing the solitary lightbulb like the shadow of the Earth passing in front of the Moon. Standing easily six-ten or something close to that, this man was one big muscle. Dressed in a pair of leather pants and some sort of strap-work across his barrel of a chest, Louis was something between a nightmare and a romance-novel cover. His long dark hair fell to the center of his broad back and over the two slabs of meat that served as his pectorals.
This didn’t look good.
“You know,” I managed to say with some amount of flippance, “if this is the guy you’ve got to work me over, I’m gonna be dead after the first punch and you won’t get anything out of me.”
“Oh no, Mr. King,” the mysterious Tara replied as she clicked her long fingernails together, “Louis here isn’t going to hurt you, in fact, he’s not even going to touch you.”
She let that hang in the dank air for a moment, and I have to admit that it was effective. Part of me was relieved that Captain Beefslab over there wasn’t going to push my face through the back of my head, but the more cerebral part of my brain started churning at what other possibilities Tara had dreamed up.
“You know, Mr. King,” Tara’s voice slithered as her form did the same around the room, “there are times when torturing someone simply doesn’t work. A shame, I know, as I so love to inflict distress. However, if one has information that is so vital to another’s survival that the other will perish without it, that person will usually die before giving it up. That is why I’ve decided that your body, your nerve endings, your physical distress is no longer of any concern to me. Only what’s locked in that little brain of yours.” Tara tapped me condescendingly on the forehead as she said this. “There are times when only the suffering of others can bring one around to see the sense in cooperation. You see, Mr. King, you do have one weakness, one flaw. You are far too nice for espionage. Not regarding yourself, of course…I commend you for your apparent lack of concern over your own well-being. But, I wonder if that lack of concern carries over to the ones you love…”
As that phrase hung in the air with the other mind-games Tara had thrown at me, she and Louis had worked their way over to the mysterious table. As the fog had started to lift from my consciousness and the pieces started to fit together, my heart skipped a beat. In the split second before Tara revealed her plan, the pieces became one big picture that I did not want to see finished.
Tara stood at the end of the table and grabbed onto the blanket or sheet or whatever it was that covered the contents of said table and pulled with a flourish. The dramatic effect wasn’t wasted, as my blood rushed to my head upon seeing what was under the covering.
It was my fiancé, Kim. She was laid back on the table and strapped down at all possible points. She was stretched tightly, too tightly from the look on her face. Kim was still wearing the outfit she’d left the house with that morning that seemed like a thousand years ago. White tank-top and light-blue skirt. I bought it for her two days ago. It was to be for a special occasion, one that escaped me at the moment in the face of the nightmare that was forming in front of me. Her arms were high over her head, her body stretched to its limits, her legs strapped down like the rest of her, her ankles together and fastened with strong leather strapping. In stark contrast to her dire predicament, the small blue pumps that I’d bought her were still on her feet, a lone piece of normality and innocence in the face of this horror. Kim looked at me with wide eyes, unable to express her fear. She was gagged thoroughly. I could see the edges of some kind of cloth poking out from the sides of several passes of black electrical tape that held the mouth-stuffing in place. Even without her voice, the fear bored into my head from the look on her face alone.
“So help me God, if you so much as…” I started but was cut off by Tara.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…you’ll break free and kill us both, blah, blah, blah. So predictable. Well, until that happens, how about we let Big Boy here keep your little girlfriend entertained?”
“If you hurt her…” I tried, but was again cut off. Not by Tara this time, but by a sight that caught my voice in my throat…and forced Kim’s through her gag.
Louis had wordlessly approached the table that my struggling fiancé was bound to, and was doing nothing more harmful than removing Kim’s shoes. Although I had a hard time getting my mind to grasp the reality of what I was sure was about to happen, I knew that Tara had done her homework.
“Now, from what I know,” Tara began as if answering my unspoken thought, “little Kim here is extremely ticklish, isn’t she?”
“MMNNPPHH!!!!” Kim bellowed into her gag as the pumps slipped off her feet and hit the floor with a dual Clunk.
“You see,” Tara continued, “Louis has a certain fascination with tormenting young women who just happen to be tied up…and ticklish. We’ve found that this form of torture can be so much more effective than pain. It lasts longer. It’s more intense. It can be applied virtually anywhere on the human body if done correctly, and leaves no marks. There’s almost no hope of passing out as one would from too severe a beating, and you can send torment into a victim’s brain over and over…and over…and over…”
I knew this was true. I had never thought that my situation would come to this. Kim was almost painfully ticklish. She couldn’t stand it, it wasn’t funny to her. It was torture and she was about to receive it unwillingly and with no way to stop it. I could stop it, but that wasn’t an option. The information was too valuable. It destroyed me, but I knew that Kim would simply have to hold out. Although Tara had researched a way to coerce me very well, she had overlooked a few things in her haste. There was a rescue coming, and I was sure Tara was unaware of it.
However, I wasn’t sure exactly when.
My conscience tore at me, but was stifled by the horrible sound of Kim’s moaning as the big man’s fingers started stroking her bare and helpless feet.
“She really doesn’t like that at all, does she, Mr. King?” Tara dripped as she circled around the table holding Kim hostage.
“You think this is going to get me to talk?” I said as calmly as I could, “Kim’s a strong girl, she can take it…”
At once, Kim let out a sound that could have been suffering, could have been confused anger. I was leaning toward the latter. As much as it pained me, I knew she was going through a hell of an ordeal. I knew she hated to be tickled and I also knew that she was praying for me to spill my guts and get her out of her dire predicament.
As Tara and I bantered back and forth, Louis was raking my girl’s soles with his fingers. Kim was bucking wildly, as much as she could, anyway. The straps were holding her tight, pinning her body to the table of torture. Tara continued to menace Kim with a few pokes here and there under her arms or on her sides. She was also taking a few moments here and there to whisper in Kim’s ear. I don’t know what she was saying, but each time she did it, Kim whimpered and looked over at me, pleading with her eyes and screaming through her tight gag.
“It seems that our little captive has wonderfully ticklish feet!” Tara said as she lined up next to the hulking Louis, tickling away oblivious to anything else. “Perhaps a woman’s touch would be more appropriate here?”
With a quick signal from his mistress, Louis grabbed hold of both sets of Kim’s toes and bent them slightly backward, encasing them in a vise-like grip. Tara bent down slightly and clawed her fingers, her long sharp nails poised to attack the helplessly bare skin of my fiancés’ soles.
“Are you sure you don’t feel like telling me everything and saving this little girl some intense torment?” she asked.
“Go to hell, Tara!” I snapped back, “There’s no way you’re getting anything out of me!” I felt terrible, but Kim would have to hold out. I knew that she wouldn’t be permanently damaged, and I had to keep that in mind as I played with her well-being. A little longer…I hoped.
“As you wish…” Tara said as she brought her nails to bear.
The shriek that escaped Kim’s mouth-filling gag almost broke me right there. Tara raked her nails slowly down the length of the bare soles before her. Louis’ grip never loosened as Tara’s nails skittered over every raw nerve ending on Kim’s feet. Up and down the soles, digging into the very center of her arches and then over the base of her toes. Kim was squealing and thrashing her head from side to side as the tickling shot a dagger of sensation up her legs and into her brain. All the while, Tara nonchalantly asked me to tell her what she wanted to know, I refused and she kept tickling Kim’s tied feet. Louis had let go of her toes, and Tara was working Kim’s feet over in a blur of motion. Those nails stroked every nerve, tickled every crease, every inch of bare flesh as my poor fiancé struggled against the cruel bonds.
After what seemed hours, Tara relented and approached me again. Kim was trying to catch her breath, glaring at me between recurring fits of giggles.
“How much more of this do you think she can take, Mr. King?” she asked me as she saddled up next to the chair I was tied to. “Louis is itching to start the next phase. Can you bear to watch little Kim over there suffer for real? That was just a warm-up, Mr. King…Kim has yet to truly suffer. Louis!”
As she barked the torturer’s name, Tara snapped her fingers and Louis obeyed. He grabbed a handful of Kim’s tank-top and in one movement ripped it off of Kim’s tiny frame. Hearing the material rip was akin to seeing Kim’s last defenses tear away. Louis wasn’t finished, moving down the length of the table and tearing off the small skirt. Kim lay now clad in only the small panties that covered the last of her modesty. Even in the predicament I was in, something stirred. The sight of Kim lying there, stretched out and strapped down, gagged and helpless, with a merciless tickler hovering over her near-naked body…God forgive me, but it turned me on a little. I tried to get Kim into things like this, albeit on a more personal and intimate level than this horror-show. It never worked, Kim was fearful of bondage and hated to be tickled, something I liked. Did Tara know this as well? What was she up to?
“She looks sweet, doesn’t she?” Tara purred in my ear, “I’ll bet there’s a part of you that can’t wait to see Louis tickle the crap out of the little bitch, huh? Big tough guy, not telling Miss Tara what she wants to know, but letting your poor little girlfriend take the brunt of the punishment. What a guy. Louis? Have fun…”
The slab of meat known as Louis didn’t toy with his victim, he went right to work. Standing at the head of the table, he lowered his hands into the hollows of Kim’s outstretched arms, wriggling his fingers over the bare armpits. The reaction was instantaneous. Kim didn’t so much scream into the gag…it was more like a very loud whimper, one mixed with tears of sound. The fingers of the torturer probed and prodded the smooth armpits of my helpless fiancé as she strained every muscled against the straps. The relatively light tickling was very quickly replaced by large fingers poking into her armpits and tickling hard. The sounds that escaped from Kim’s gag were bordering the horrible…
…and that wasn’t all that Tara had in mind.
As Louis continued torturing my fiancé, Tara had slipped her hand down the length of my body and rested it over my crotch. In my rather helpless position, it was nothing for her to make her way through the clothing of mine that wasn’t shredded and grab my now-stiff cock with one well-manicured hand.
“Admit it, Mr. King”, Tara purred as she began to slowly stroke, “a part of this is turning you on, isn’t it?”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I barked at her, “You think I’m going to spill the beans because you’re giving me a hand-job?”
“Oh no, quite the contrary…you’re going to tell me everything; not because I give you an orgasm…but because I won’t…”
And now the plan became clear. God forgive me, but seeing Kim getting tickle tortured while an evil bitch, albeit a very desirable one, was whacking me off started to get to me. Under another set of circumstances, this would have been great. But the animal part of my brain wanted to come something fierce, and Tara was playing me like a piano…or a flute to be more specific.
“Doesn’t she look hot like that?” Tara whispered in my ear as she stroked my stiff rod, “All tied up with Louis tickling her to no end?”
As I felt the desire in me build, I glanced at the table where Kim was in dire straits. Louis had moved to the center of the table and had his hands placed on Kim’s sides. As much as the tight straps would allow, she was bucking wildly. Louis had her in a tight grip and while her belly moved slightly back and forth, the two fingers he was using to dig into her sides never lost their point of contact. They tickled the same spot over and over as Kim was now laugh-crying into her gag. Just when I thought I was going to blow, Tara stopped.
“Awww…I’ll bet that ruined your short-term plans, didn’t it?” she asked icily.
And so the next half-hour began. Tara would start jerking me off while Louis tickled Kim. Tara would stop when she felt me ready to explode. As the near-uncontrollable sensations built up in me, I saw Kim get her sides tickled, her armpits stroked, her feet tickled…everything Louis could think of that made her howl and cry in unmitigated torment. Of course, Tara would stop at just the right (or wrong) time. It wasn’t long before the final straw was placed on the camel’s proverbial back.
Louis had hopped up onto the table and was straddling Kim’s tiny, tight body. His hands were a whirlwind of motion from the soft hollows of Kim’s armpits, down her hyperextended ribcage and all over her tight tummy. He was dead serious about causing Kim as much tickled torment as possible, and he knew what he was doing. During her torture, the huge man must have been mapping out her most ticklish places, and he hit all of them. Kim was a wreck, her gagged howls now little more than forced whimpers. She was in serious trouble. As he focused on her sides again, Kim’s weakest spot, right over her protruding hipbones…Tara started in on me again.
“How much more of this do you think the both of you can take, Mr. King?” she asked in a somewhat more desperate tone of voice, “Don’t you just love seeing her tickled like that? You want to come, don’t you? You can’t hold out anymore, can you? Just tell us what we want to know, dammit!”
I couldn’t hold out any longer. Tara’s plan, while a good one, was doomed to failure eventually. I exploded like never before in my life…
…and Tara didn’t stop.
She finished me off in a slow motion frenzy of sexual lust while Louis’ tickling of Kim lessened to an erotic tease. The world began to swim back into focus as reality, held at bay at the gates of my fantasy life, burst through.
Louis began unstrapping Kim as Tara released me from the chair that had been my prison for hours. As soon as we were both free, Kim rushed into my arms and embraced me…kissing me like we did when we were first dating.
“Thank you so much, honey!” she said between kisses, “I’ve been fantasizing about something like this for years! I can’t believe you actually made it happen!”
“Hey,” I replied, “it was my fantasy, too, hun! Not a cheap one, but a good one. Happy Birthday, my love!”
After catching our collective breaths and coming down from the high of a lifetime, Mistress Tara approached me. Louis was long-gone, and a better Dom Tara couldn’t have picked. The man was ruthless, just what my little Kimmie wanted.
“Thank you, Mr. King, for choosing us,” Tara said while planting a light kiss on my cheek and Kim’s, “and if you wish in the future to explore your rich fantasy life again, I hope you come back to Mistress Tara’s Vault. Perhaps you and your future wife would like to try the dominant side someday? I’m always available for my best customers.”
“Well, you know honey,” Kim whispered in my ear, “it’s only three months until YOUR birthday…”
The End
... Wow. That's pretty - fantastic! :ggrin: Way to go! :super_hap :super_hap :super_hap :super_hap
