Next
All is dark, as the blindfold I am wearing blocks out all hints of light. The external world is muffled, due to the headphones that have been placed over my ears. Crazy enough to come here dressed for work, I find myself in a skirt, blouse, and my favorite lacey tights…lying face down on a couch, hog-tied, and once again at the mercy of this guy-next-door.
I start to hear the faint sound of a woman giggling, but at first I can’t tell if it is coming from the headphones or the outside world. As it grows louder, I can hear that it is a soundtrack of some woman laughing. It is obvious from her begging and screaming that she is being tickled. I wonder in my mind how she is tied up and what is being used on her. I shudder as I consider the possibility that this morning’s play may be fashioned after what this woman is receiving.
Before my curiosity gets too far, my own torment begins. I feel him sit at the other end of the couch, where my stockinged feet stick up in the air defenseless. A stiff feather lightly traces across my soles, causing the softest of tickling sensations. I giggle and squirm a little bit. My instinct is always to attempt to get away from my torture (futile, I know, because I am always tied tight and even if I ever broke free, I would not be allowed to escape. Rope around my wrists would be replaced with a firm hand; my briefly-freed ankles and legs quickly restrained with his legs and body weight). Mentally resigned to torture, yet always struggling…my lot as a ticklee.
The feather is replaced by wiggling fingers; nimble instruments traveling up and down my soles, stopping occasionally to dig in behind my toes. He knows I am very ticklish behind my toes, and usually it’s extra punishment with the electric toothbrush when I can’t keep my toes spread for his sadistic pleasure. As I think to myself “At least it’s just fingers this time…” I hear it start. Even over the soundtrack of another woman’s anguished laughter, I hear the familiar buzzing sound. That damn toothbrush…
I hold my breath and cringe in anticipation, but nothing comes. For what seems like an eternity, my legs stick up, helplessly immobile, my toes wiggling in nervous anticipation of what’s to come; and nothing happens. The buzzing stops. I feel something being stretched around my feet, but I can’t quite make out what it is. Finally, I relax and take a breath, thinking that he must be working on restraints or something. It is in that second that he attacks. SNAP! A stinging in the center of my sole catches me off-guard. “He’s using rubber bands!” SNAP! Another sting. Each time the rubber band hits my tender sole, I feel the pain transform into a tingle. It is delicious! SNAP! But it hurts! My gasps turn into pleasure whimpers. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! He’s now cracking those bands in succession. The sensation is horrible and amazing at the same time. As I begin to slide into a place of painful pleasure, the vibrating toothbrush makes contact with my
overly-sensitive sole. I yelp in surprise and begin to really fight to get away. All to no avail. He isn’t slowing down or stopping. There will be no mercy today, but I knew that coming in. He had texted me earlier that morning just to say “You’re going to be tied down and tickled…” Despite the butterflies in my stomach, I had mustered up a quippy reply. I was now regretting my smartass response. Why don’t I learn?
Face down, with a pillow under my hips, I am unable to slither away. At all. The pillow keeps me on my knees with my ass in the air and unable to get into any sort of position for traction. My hands behind my back offer nothing but a place for surprise attacks with the toothbrush when my palms are exposed. I try to remember to keep my hands clenched, but it’s too much to remember when all over my body I am being surprised with tickling. Foot torture is replaced with fingers squeezing at my thighs and ribs and hips. Whimpers turn to shrieks, muffled by the pillow into which my face is buried. The complete immobility, the screams and begging coming from the headphones, turn my own laughter and screams to desperate pleas for mercy... This only serves to feed his cruelty. Instead of mercy, I feel a hand grab the back of my hair and push my face down into the pillow, while another hand continues the assault on my ribs and inner thighs. My head is pulled up Face down, with a pillow under my hips, I am unable to slither away. At all. The pillow keeps me on my knees with my ass in the air and unable to get into any sort of position for traction. My hands behind my back offer nothing but a place for surprise attacks with the toothbrush when my palms are exposed. I try to remember to keep my hands clenched, but it’s too much to remember when all over my body I am being surprised with tickling. Foot torture is replaced with fingers squeezing at my thighs and ribs and hips. Whimpers turn to shrieks, muffled by the pillow into which my face is buried. This only serves to feed his cruelty. Instead of mercy, I feel a hand grab the back of my hair and push my face down into the pillow, while another hand continues the assault on my ribs and inner thighs. My head is pulled up so I can gasp for air and then immediately pushed back into the pillow. He’s taken control of everything, and I feel myself succumbing to that power. At this moment he controls my ability to move, he controls my ability to breathe, and he controls my ability to do anything but take what he is dishing out. Against my will, my body is responding with arousal, and I can feel myself transition from struggling to willful submission. At this, he lets my head go and walks away. I am left in a state of relief and frustration.
I feel him return to my feet and hold them firmly in one hand while starting to tickle again with the otherThen, I feel something different. Like something cutting into material. I feel his hands slowly tear open my tights and expose my poor foot. The cool air on my skin is quickly replaced with wiggling fingers. One foot bare and the other still covered in lacey tights, he tickles them both mercilessly; occasionally stopping to snap rubber bands, just to keep my senses on edge. A yummy mixture of pain and tickling, with my body never knowing which is coming next.
I feel nylon being torn again, as he strips my other foot. Even though they offered little protection, the helplessness of feeling my nylons ripped open causes such a feeling of vulnerability, as if nothing will stop him from doing whatever he wants with my feet. This realization is both exciting and terrifying, as I know how much he loves to torment my feet.
All is dark, as the blindfold I am wearing blocks out all hints of light. The external world is muffled, due to the headphones that have been placed over my ears. Crazy enough to come here dressed for work, I find myself in a skirt, blouse, and my favorite lacey tights…lying face down on a couch, hog-tied, and once again at the mercy of this guy-next-door.
I start to hear the faint sound of a woman giggling, but at first I can’t tell if it is coming from the headphones or the outside world. As it grows louder, I can hear that it is a soundtrack of some woman laughing. It is obvious from her begging and screaming that she is being tickled. I wonder in my mind how she is tied up and what is being used on her. I shudder as I consider the possibility that this morning’s play may be fashioned after what this woman is receiving.
Before my curiosity gets too far, my own torment begins. I feel him sit at the other end of the couch, where my stockinged feet stick up in the air defenseless. A stiff feather lightly traces across my soles, causing the softest of tickling sensations. I giggle and squirm a little bit. My instinct is always to attempt to get away from my torture (futile, I know, because I am always tied tight and even if I ever broke free, I would not be allowed to escape. Rope around my wrists would be replaced with a firm hand; my briefly-freed ankles and legs quickly restrained with his legs and body weight). Mentally resigned to torture, yet always struggling…my lot as a ticklee.
The feather is replaced by wiggling fingers; nimble instruments traveling up and down my soles, stopping occasionally to dig in behind my toes. He knows I am very ticklish behind my toes, and usually it’s extra punishment with the electric toothbrush when I can’t keep my toes spread for his sadistic pleasure. As I think to myself “At least it’s just fingers this time…” I hear it start. Even over the soundtrack of another woman’s anguished laughter, I hear the familiar buzzing sound. That damn toothbrush…
I hold my breath and cringe in anticipation, but nothing comes. For what seems like an eternity, my legs stick up, helplessly immobile, my toes wiggling in nervous anticipation of what’s to come; and nothing happens. The buzzing stops. I feel something being stretched around my feet, but I can’t quite make out what it is. Finally, I relax and take a breath, thinking that he must be working on restraints or something. It is in that second that he attacks. SNAP! A stinging in the center of my sole catches me off-guard. “He’s using rubber bands!” SNAP! Another sting. Each time the rubber band hits my tender sole, I feel the pain transform into a tingle. It is delicious! SNAP! But it hurts! My gasps turn into pleasure whimpers. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! He’s now cracking those bands in succession. The sensation is horrible and amazing at the same time. As I begin to slide into a place of painful pleasure, the vibrating toothbrush makes contact with my
overly-sensitive sole. I yelp in surprise and begin to really fight to get away. All to no avail. He isn’t slowing down or stopping. There will be no mercy today, but I knew that coming in. He had texted me earlier that morning just to say “You’re going to be tied down and tickled…” Despite the butterflies in my stomach, I had mustered up a quippy reply. I was now regretting my smartass response. Why don’t I learn?
Face down, with a pillow under my hips, I am unable to slither away. At all. The pillow keeps me on my knees with my ass in the air and unable to get into any sort of position for traction. My hands behind my back offer nothing but a place for surprise attacks with the toothbrush when my palms are exposed. I try to remember to keep my hands clenched, but it’s too much to remember when all over my body I am being surprised with tickling. Foot torture is replaced with fingers squeezing at my thighs and ribs and hips. Whimpers turn to shrieks, muffled by the pillow into which my face is buried. The complete immobility, the screams and begging coming from the headphones, turn my own laughter and screams to desperate pleas for mercy... This only serves to feed his cruelty. Instead of mercy, I feel a hand grab the back of my hair and push my face down into the pillow, while another hand continues the assault on my ribs and inner thighs. My head is pulled up Face down, with a pillow under my hips, I am unable to slither away. At all. The pillow keeps me on my knees with my ass in the air and unable to get into any sort of position for traction. My hands behind my back offer nothing but a place for surprise attacks with the toothbrush when my palms are exposed. I try to remember to keep my hands clenched, but it’s too much to remember when all over my body I am being surprised with tickling. Foot torture is replaced with fingers squeezing at my thighs and ribs and hips. Whimpers turn to shrieks, muffled by the pillow into which my face is buried. This only serves to feed his cruelty. Instead of mercy, I feel a hand grab the back of my hair and push my face down into the pillow, while another hand continues the assault on my ribs and inner thighs. My head is pulled up so I can gasp for air and then immediately pushed back into the pillow. He’s taken control of everything, and I feel myself succumbing to that power. At this moment he controls my ability to move, he controls my ability to breathe, and he controls my ability to do anything but take what he is dishing out. Against my will, my body is responding with arousal, and I can feel myself transition from struggling to willful submission. At this, he lets my head go and walks away. I am left in a state of relief and frustration.
I feel him return to my feet and hold them firmly in one hand while starting to tickle again with the otherThen, I feel something different. Like something cutting into material. I feel his hands slowly tear open my tights and expose my poor foot. The cool air on my skin is quickly replaced with wiggling fingers. One foot bare and the other still covered in lacey tights, he tickles them both mercilessly; occasionally stopping to snap rubber bands, just to keep my senses on edge. A yummy mixture of pain and tickling, with my body never knowing which is coming next.
I feel nylon being torn again, as he strips my other foot. Even though they offered little protection, the helplessness of feeling my nylons ripped open causes such a feeling of vulnerability, as if nothing will stop him from doing whatever he wants with my feet. This realization is both exciting and terrifying, as I know how much he loves to torment my feet.
