Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
- Joined
- Apr 17, 2001
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- 10,295
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“So, let me get this straight,” Ginger said, eyeing me with a mixture of wariness and subtle anticipation, “no sex, no pain…you just wanna tie me up and take some pictures?”
“Exactly,” I replied, my own anticipation veiled behind a poker face trained for weeks, “I can get a small bondage website started, you walk away with a thousand dollars and we both have a little fun. Come on, you know me. I’m not one of these horny guys looking for a ten dollar fuck in the back room, I know the deal.”
At least that’s the way I hoped I came across. I’d been coming to Diamond Dolls for over two months, getting to know the girls, tipping heavily and behaving myself as well as one was expected to in a strip club. The fact that Ginger and I were having a business conversation while she was giving me a lap dance in one of the club’s private rooms should have driven home the fact that I wasn’t looking to get laid. Besides, I was fairly certain at this point that Ginger considered me a non-threat. Night after night of twenty dollar bills slipped beneath the strap of her thong and more-than-generous tips for back-room private dances probably loosened her a bit as well.
In the two months I’d been planning this, Ginger had become my favorite, the one I truly wanted for this…exercise. Diamond Dolls employed some deliciously beautiful girls (as any strip club that wants to stay in business does), but there was something about Ginger that drew me to her from very near the start. It wasn’t simply the fact that she was by far the most physically attractive of Dolls’ dancers, which she was. While all of the girls looked fantastic, Ginger was something beyond the ordinary. It was as if all of the best attributes of every other dancer were combined to create the ultimate example of female perfection…and male fantasy.
Some of the other girls had what I called a “specialty” look. Really huge chest, for those who liked that. Butt-length blond hair to connect certain men to that particular image of beauty…it seemed that each one had something. Ginger, on the other hand, had everything, at least everything that I found attractive. Her hair was a chestnut-tinged honey brown with the occasional subtle streak of blond, falling in loose curly waves over her shoulders. Her five-foot-four frame was built upon a body that was, for me anyway, sheer perfection. She was slender where you wanted her to be, and filled-out where she needed to be. Her round breasts were slightly larger than one would expect from a smallish girl, but firm in a way exclusive to youth. Her body curved in to form a tight trunk with a hard, flat stomach, finally flaring out over a set of luscious hips that seemed somehow independent of the rest of her body when she danced. Ginger’s legs were the pedestals of a goddess…slim, shapely and apparently able to contort into a variety of extreme positions. The feet that they ended in were works of art in their own way; perfectly shaped with the most adorable rounded toes. I should know, as those toes found their way onto various parts of my own body during our many lap dances.
While Ginger’s body may have been what I considered perfect, it was her face that was capable of launching the proverbial thousand ships. Her eyes were a deep blue, slightly almond-shaped and maybe just that much too big for her face. The effect was striking, especially in combination with the long lashes that surrounded them. These doe-eyes were set upon a face that was heart-shaped in a subconscious tug-of-war between innocence and sensuality. High cheekbones framed those gorgeous eyes and gave way to an almost child-like jawline. Call me picky or just plain weird, but it was her mouth that put the final stroke on the masterpiece. A tiny, pursed little thing with full lips and an ever-so-slight downward draw. The whole package put together was almost too good to be real…a face that hung in the netherworld between virginal wonder and knowing experience.
As if her looks weren’t enough, she had a certain way about her that separated her from every other dancer at Diamond Dolls…hell, from every other woman I’d ever met for that matter. I know that exotic dancers push the envelope to personify male fantasy, but there was something different about Ginger. When she danced, she locked eyes with you in a way that made everything else go hazy. It was just you and her in the room, and the promises behind those eyes were those of rarified dreams. Her walk was swishy without being comical and her moves were serpentine. Maybe it was the fact that I paid far more than most for “special attention”, but Ginger in a private room was better than sex with most women. She could make you feel like she was yours…or you were hers. In the time between the insurance settlement that netted me seven figures and the moment that I knew my plan was in motion, I had more opportunities than I can remember to experience Ginger’s sensuality in private. I’d become a regular, and a trusted one at that. Management loved the cash that I was pumping into the place, and the girls found my level of respect a refreshing break from the constant groping. There were others I spent time with, but Ginger was my favorite.
It was a week ago that the seed was planted. The girls knew me as someone who’d treat them nicely, but wasn’t a prude by any means. I talked openly with them and used humor to lighten the mood. Ginger and I had a few passing moments that drifted into the topic of bondage, and it took everything I had not to pounce on the topic full force. Of course I wanted to see Ginger tied up, squirming around and under my control…but coming right out and saying that would have evaporated everything I’d built up. So the conversations stayed light until the moment was right. That moment came when she was on my lap, running her fingers through my hair and the talk turned to things exotic. Possibly remembering a past conversation, she asked me “Do you think I’d look good tied up?”
For all of Ginger’s perfection, I’d gleaned one thing from her. She was hard-up for cash. College didn’t work out for her, and she was in a fairly large amount of debt. In hindsight, this may have been what perfected her “act”, for she made quite a bit at the club, moreso than the other girls. When I mentioned that I was starting an online business catering to bondage videos (a line dropped at just the right time), I saw those huge eyes go wider just a little. I was fairly certain that she was testing me to see if I’d pay her to be in one. Jumping on that didn’t feel right, so I played it out for a couple of days. When she asked me the question, I knew I had her.
“Ginger”, I said, “I think you’d look smashing. I didn’t want to ask, because I’m sure you get propositioned all the time, but…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she cut me off, perhaps a little too eagerly, “I know you’re ok. We’re just talking about bondage, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said and made a show of placing my hand over my heart and giving the scout honesty sign, “just me and you, a camera and some bondage pics. I think you could be a big boost to getting this thing off the ground.”
“And how much does something like that usually pay?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes down and look disconcerned.
I knew she’d been offered all kinds of things in the past, and I was also quite aware that someone in her profession would be in the know concerning how much models get paid. So when I threw off a glib “Oh, I don’t know….say a thousand?” I saw the subtle change in her face. I think she thought she had me, that I had no idea what I was doing and simply had money to throw around. Two hundred bucks would have worked, but the proverbial hook, line and sinker were successfully cast now…
A few days had passed since giving Ginger directions to my house, and everything was ready. Hell, they’d been ready since the night I got home from our conversation! I think I stayed up for about eight hours prepping for this. Simple, yet effective…a single pole in my basement playroom was all that I’d need. That and about twenty rolls of duct tape, that is.
Interrupting my reverie was the chime of the doorbell. I answered it, and Ginger walked in. She was wearing a floor-length black coat and my mind went wild imagining what was underneath it. I didn’t have to wait long, as Ginger slid the coat over her shoulders to reveal a fantasy come to life.
“Will this do?” she asked coyly as I took her in. She was wearing a sparkly blue sort of thing for a top, a simple short-sleeved number that tied in a little knot between her ample breasts. Around her hips was a very short wrap-around skirt that tied over her right hip. I could see by the thin strings that showed under both garments that she had one of her tiny dancer’s bikinis on under the attractive outfit.
“That’ll be perfect, dear!” I answered in a show of appreciative shock, “the guys are going to love you…”
“So,” she asked, “what are we going to do? Tie me to the table or your bed or something? I just gotta squirm around a bit and look all helpless?”
“Something like that,” I replied, hoping my reaction to her use of the word squirm went unnoticed, “but being tied to the bed is really kinda old. We’re going to do something a little more…intense. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you, ok?”
“Sure,” she said as she followed me downstairs.
I could tell by the surprised look on Ginger’s face that she expected something that looked far more intimidating that what she saw upon reaching the basement. She probably had images of dark corners, dusty smells and thick chains hanging from the ceiling…but the well-lit and clean “workspace” probably offered her some relief, plus put her more at ease regarding my intentions.
Good.
Her eyes fell upon the centerpiece of the room, a pole that ran from floor to ceiling. Toward the top was a single metal ring set with a bolt into the wood. At the base was a short step-stool. Another ring was set slightly above the level of the stool.
“So, you wanna tie me to that?” she inquired, “Looks harmless enough. I guess I was expecting some sort of rack or something!”
“Like I said, it’s just a simple shoot. Damsel Tied To A Pole, that sort of thing. Oh, by the way, here’s your money…” Ginger’s eyes widened at the sight of the wad of bills totaling a thousand dollars. Any apprehension she might have still had withered away…I could see it.
“Now,” I said, “if you’ll just step up on the stool, we can get started.”
Ginger stepped up onto the stool and placed her arms over her head, her fingers toying playfully with the steel ring just within her reach. It seemed she knew what to do. Damn, this was gonna be easy…she was already in Dancer-Mode, all of that trained sensuality simply oozing out of her.
“Ok, let’s just get you fastened here….” I said as I placed the Velcro cuffs around her wrists, raising her arms back up and clipping the center hook to the ring. I repeated the procedure on her slim ankles, fastening them together and anchoring them to the ring below. Ginger began slowly writhing back and forth, teasing me and her perceived audience. She was a true pro.
I set up the camera on a tripod and took some sample shots. She was a willing model…for now. Time for Phase One to begin…
“Are you sure you can’t get out of that?” I asked, knowing full well that she couldn’t. She had a wide range of motion available, but she couldn’t pull her arms down or get her feet away from the pole. “Here, let’s just see how immobile you really are…”
Without warning, I picked up two small feathers and approached her.
“Wh-what are doing?” Ginger stammered.
“Just a quick test, don’t worry about it.” I replied as I placed the feathers along her bare sides and pulled them upward. The shriek I was met with surprised me, and I knew at that moment that Ginger was going to be the perfect girl for my little plan. The shorty-top still covered her armpits, but I played the pointed tips of the quills over the thin material anyway.
“NO! ST-STOP IT!!! HEE HEEEHAAAA…..Noooo!!!!!!”
Ginger’s face scrunched up into a grimace that tried desperately to contain a smile.
“What’s the matter, Ginger? Ticklish?” I asked.
“Y-Yes!!!! I can’t STAND being tickled!” she shrieked.
I placed the feathers down after stroking her body a few more times and getting a far better response than I’d expected. I didn’t want to play my hand quite yet, I just needed to know, and to put a little fear into the girl.
“Ok, ok…” I said with a smile, “that’s enough. Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you couldn’t get out.”
“That’s alright,” she replied, even now a little out of breath after relatively minor tickling, “just don’t tickle me anymore, ok? I really can’t stand it!”
“No sweat. You mean you really can’t take a little tickling?”
“Not one bit!” she giggled, “and you’re a meanie for finding out my secret!”
Nice to see she was still in the spirit of things.
“Well, now that that’s done, let’s take the bondage up a notch, ok? I got some great shots of you so far, but I need to show some more hard-core stuff.”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, not yet showing any hesitation that I could spot.
“Ever heard of mummification?” I asked nonchalantly.
“That’s where the girl gets wrapped up or something, right?”
“Exactly,” I said, “you game?”
I knew she was, and also knew that she was overly grateful for the payday, but when she simply said “Sure”, my heart raced a bit. To be honest, I didn’t really expect to get this far. I’d always wanted to do this, I had fantasy after fantasy of tying up a hot stripper and tickling the crap out of her, but those were supposed to be just fantasies, right? I was now in the middle of it, and the best part was…
…I’d get away with it. She was a stripper who took a large sum of money from me to do a bondage shoot, and there wouldn’t be a mark on her when I was done. Of course, I’d probably never be able to set foot in Diamond Dolls again, but screw it. There were others.
With Ginger still stretched out on the pole, I pulled out the box of duct-tape rolls. She gasped a little at the sight of them, but seemed resigned to being mummified. Well, partially mummified…but Ginger didn’t need to know that yet.
We made some small-talk as I started at her ankles. I wanted to keep her at ease, so we discussed the shoot, her “career”, the incredible amount of money she could make if she became my lead model once the “site” took off…during it all, she played the part of fantasy-maker to the hilt. By the time the little minx was done getting me more excited than I’d been in probably my whole life, her legs were encased in wrap after wrap of duct tape. The continuous stream of binding tape went from the tops of her ankles to just about an inch lower than the space between her thighs, leaving her hips exposed. I had to pull the tiny, sparkly skirt away from getting wrapped, so it hung slightly over the last pass of tape.
“Wow, I really can’t budge here!” Ginger stated as she tried to twist and turn her long legs. “You do a pretty good job…done this before?”
Yeah, Ginger, a million times…in my head. Now you’re getting it for real.
“Once or twice, just to get the feel of it before I invested anything into a shoot,” was what I wound up actually saying, “and now for the rest.”
I walked around the pole and started wrapping her up over her fingertips and down her wrists.
“Aren’t you going to finish the rest of me?” she asked, and for a fleeting moment I feared she was going to panic or freak out or just change her mind. Play it cool, dude.
“Nah, it works better this way. Meet in the middle, so there’s no slack.” Pure bullshit, but she didn’t know that.
“Oh, sounds right.”
So, we continued our small talk, most of it revolving around what Ginger was going to do with the thousands of dollars she was going to make eventually, and before I had time to fully appreciate it, I had Ginger wrapped tight to the pole.
The tape covered her completely from her fingers, down her arms and ending a few scant inches from the upper limits of her armpits. She had to tip her head forward a bit to accomplish this, but she never complained or questioned. It should always be this easy…
“Now, for the finishing touches…” I said as I bent her head forward and tied her hair into a pony-tail. She asked what I was doing, and I threw something at her about total bondage requiring a blindfold of some sort. I placed her head back against the pole and wrapped several more layers of tape around her head, over her eyes and even a little over her neck. Not too tight, as her arms were farther forward than the level of her neck, but it looked good. The tape went upward around her neck, looping back up to the level of her upper arms and back around the pole, pinning her head back completely.
“Ok, so now you finish the job and wrap me up like a mummy?” she asked.
“Well,” I said, feeling the plan come to a slow close as my heart raced upon its completion, “not exactly.”
“What do you mean?” Ginger queried, “aren’t I supposed to me totally encased or something?”
“Not for what I have in mind…”
I let that sink in for a second as I took a lingering look at Ginger. She was almost sucked into the pole, that’s how tight the bondage was. Her arms and legs covered in the restricting tape, she was utterly helpless. I gazed at the tiny outfit she was wearing…
“You know,” I said, “I think you’d look better in these pics without all that on you.”
“But…but what did you mean by that? What do you have in mind?!?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s nothing painful…there, let’s lose these...”
I took the tiny skirt in my hand and was surprised to find that it came off with a quick tug. What remained was the smallest thong I’d seen, just barely covering her private area, with thin elastic straps traveling up and over her sexy hips. Her top was held together with a simple knot between her breasts, and when the sparkly thing fell away with the snaps at the arms, I beheld a set of breasts that although I’d seen before, looked completely better in bondage. All that covered them (if you could call it that) was a very tiny bikini top whose cups were just large enough to cover her areolae, all the rest was just string.
“There,” I said, “much better.”
“What’s going on?” Ginger asked, with more apprehension in her voice than I’d heard before.
Time to lower the boom and play my well-hidden hand. I spoke calmly to her as I leaned against the pole and brought my lips to her ear.
“Ginger,” I said, “you are here for a photo shoot, but there is something that I’ve always wanted to do, and you’re going to help me do it.”
“Wh-what’s that?” she asked as the first signs of struggle appeared.
“Well, my helpless vixen…quite simply, I’ve always wanted to tie up a hot little stripper and….tickle the shit out of her…”
The first signs of struggle that previously appeared immediately became more desperate. I knew this from her expressions and the tensing of the muscles that showed, as I never would have known by any kind of movement. There wasn’t any. She was stuck, good and proper.
“No God PLEASE!!!” she started to beg, “You don’t understand, I CAN’T be tickled! I’m afraid of it, I hate it! Plee-eee-eease don’t do this. I wanna go now!”
“Oh, come on, Ginger…you can’t leave now, it’s just getting interesting! Now…smile for the camera!”
With that, I slowly brought one single finger toward her exposed and stretched armpit. Her pleas became instant laughter as my index finger stroked the length of her underarm, tracing a pattern around the ticklish skin and occasionally right through it. Nothing too hard, nothing too serious, just a methodical stroking of the ticklish armpit of a bound girl. However, to hear Ginger, you’d think I was sticking her with needles or something. Her “hee-hee”s were a constant staccato rhythm with a rare pause for a sharp intake of breath. Seeing that tickling her was having a greater effect than I’d imagined, I doubled the stakes. Taking a place directly in front of her writhing body, I tickled under both arms, still with a single finger each. Her skin lived up to every expectation I’d had, smooth, tight and apparently extremely ticklish. My fingers traced around the hollows, into the pits, and wriggled annoyingly as I picked up the pace. Two fingers became eight as I started a rhythm of raking down her skin from where the tape ended to the sides of her ample breasts. Ginger was in hysterics, and I hadn’t even really started yet.
“Pl-Pl-plhhee-heee-heeeeeAAAIIGGHHH!!!! Nononononono AHAAA…AHAAAA..AHAAAAA…..stopitstopitstopit!!!....HAAAHAAAAA!!!”
As I tickled her, her laughter became more desperate and I could hear the tape strain to hold her back. It wouldn’t give, I knew that, but she must have been struggling fiercely. Her laughs were becoming less and less understandable as laughter, more like short breaths between whatever sound could be forced from her throat.
Her breasts were my next target, and I enjoyed running the feathers I would use between my fingers as I listened to more of Ginger’s begging. Each plea was punctuated by a jiggle of those heavenly tits that were too much for the elastic straps to properly restrain. I could take care of that later if I felt like it.
“P-Please stop tic-ahhhh-tickling….me! I don’t want to do this anymore, PLEASE?!? I can’t take this, pleeeeease???”
“Oh, Ginger, Ginger…” I intoned as I approached her body with the feathers that were being twirled for my benefit alone, “we have so much more fun to have! You signed on for this, remember?”
“Not this!! You didn’t say anything about tickling!”
“And you said you were a professional,” I said with a droll. Might as well make her feel like shit along with torturing her, huh? I’d planned this for far too long, dreamed about this for far too many nights to care now. I liked Ginger, but I never got attached. She was my victim, and I was going to see exactly how far her body and mind could be pushed.
“But, but…I never thought you’d…AAAIGGHHHH!!!”
Her current round of pleading was cut short by the tips of the feathers stroking the rounded sides of her tits. I knew some girls with sensitive ones, but this girl was off the chart. The lightest of touches raised tiny goosebumps for a moment. I used the feathers to tickle her breasts all over, from where they melded into her armpits all the way around and over the stiffening nipples under that small patch of thin fabric.
Over the sound of her tittering laughter, I used my serious voice, as if this were nothing more than a simple photo shoot. “Let’s get rid of this and get these girls at attention, shall we?”
Before Ginger had time to regard the meaning there, I snapped the elastic string between the undersized cups and pulled the tiny top away from her bound body. Taking up a roll of electrical tape, I began wrapping her breasts together. It didn’t really restrict her any more than she was, but it forced her breasts up and pulled away from the soft skin of her armpits, isolating that ticklish target even further. I didn’t wrap much, just enough to bring them together, but it had a profound effect on her nipples. They thrust forward, perched atop her now-puffy areolae.
I went back to the feather-torment, using the very tips to tease her nipples. She immediately began a more subdued form of her previous laughter. It was constant, but she wasn’t getting the full force….yet. I could see it was having an annoying effect, though…one that blew wide open as I again played the feathers all over her bound breasts. Ginger’s stuttering half-laugh, half-struggled-breathing was back as the feathers traced cruel paths back under her arms. With her tits tied together, the skin was even farther tightened, and the tickling was intense. I even took one of the feathers and tickled under her nose, utilizing the immobility of her head. This had a greater effect than I would have thought, so I changed tactics.
“Tickle, tickle tickle!” I teased as I played the feathers lightly under her nose, over her lips and down her neck, the part that was showing anyway.
“StopitStopitStopit!!!!!Nooooo! OOhhhHooooHooooooAAiiigghhhnononono!!”
“Ok,” I said as I tossed the feathers aside, “ready for the real fun to begin?”
“No wait!!!! I c-can’t…I can’t t-take anym—NOOOAAIIGHH!!!!!!!”
Without warning, I moved into a much more serious form of tickling, wriggling all of my fingers madly under her arms, poking and prodding her soft armpits and kneading the spot along her breasts. Ginger went ballistic. There was no laughter, only a scream that pierced my eardrums. Traveling farther down, I began poking her tight ribcage. I tickled each rib individually, as Ginger rewarded my efforts with a different kind of shriek or yell or laugh for every one.
“Ticklish ribs, babe?” I teased.
“Y---Y---HaaaHaaaHAAAAAA Y-e-esssssaaaiigghhnonono!!!”
She could barely form a one-syllable word, so I knew it was really getting to her. Ten fingers spider-walked over her protruding ribs, tickling all at once, one at a time, soft, hard….each technique driving Ginger farther and farther from sanity. When I placed my stiff fingers against her ribs and shook my hands up and down, dragging her skin over the bones in a move meant for nothing more than intense tickle-torture, she started wailing.
After a few minutes of that, and with my fingers needing a brief rest, I moved into the next phase of breaking Ginger completely.
“You know, you’re being way too loud here, I think we need a gag to really make this bondage complete…”
“NOOOO!!!!Oh my God PLEASE don’t do that! I’ll go nuts! I swear, I’ll lose it…plee-heee-heeeease…..”
“Yes,” I replied coldly, “you will go nuts….I’m fully aware of that.”
Without another word, I stuffed a thick cloth into her mouth and proceeded to wrap more duct tape over her lips. A few passes and she was silenced. Well, not silenced, but verbally helpless just as she was physically restrained.
“Better?” I teased as I gave her a very quick tickle under her over-sensitized arms.
“MMMNNPPHH!!!!”
“Now, for a much more effective part of tickle-torture….you ready?” I asked, whether she was or not.
Bending down and kneeling, I simply pulled the short foot-stool out from under Ginger’s feet. Before, it served to keep her balanced and at the right height for me, but now that the tape held her tightly to the pole, her feet simply dangled in mid air. Knowing what I was going to do, Ginger started mewing into the gag. It became far more desperate as I slowly unbuckled the small high-heels she was wearing. Within moments, I had a perfectly shaped pair of bare feet dangling and twitching. Rather than dive right in, I devised something with a decidedly cruel twist to it. Again taking up my two feathers, I simply placed the quill ends against the center of her bare soles and pressed in ever-so-slightly. Even the simple touch of them against her feet caused muffled giggles to escape the gag.
“Could you imagine what that’s going to feel like when I start moving them?” I teased, fully enveloped in my Mastership of this sexy girl in bondage. I had her body, her mind was about to go next… “I mean, all I have to do is move these a little and that annoying feeling is going to build and build…and you can’t even pull away, can you? Poor little thing, about to get her feet tickled while she’s all tied up….that’s gotta suck!”
“MMnnpphhh! MMNNGGHH!!!! MMNNNGGHH!!”
At the first slow drag, I momentarily thought the gag had worked loose. Ginger’s screaming laughter was only barely contained by the cloth in her mouth and the tape over it. Picking up the pace very deliberately, stroke by stroke, the pointed tips ran back and forth over the bare skin of her soles. As she started thrashing her feet, I grabbed the toes of her right foot, pulled them back and floated the feather over her ticklish sole. Back and forth and over and over, the tickling continued as Ginger moaned into the gag. I could feel the desperate strength in her foot, her tiny toes putting forth a Herculean effort to escape. I tickled both feet the same way, eventually going to my fingers. Fluttering wildly over every inch of ticklish foot-flesh, I then angled my fingers in so that my short nails scraped against her soles. The only thing that could move was her feet, so they were overcompensating for the rest of her immobility. Thrashing at light-speed, but unable to move far enough away from ten upturned and tickling fingers, her feet spoke for her. She was in agony, and I was in ecstasy. Those tickly little feet were every fetishist’s dream, and the girl they were attached do was truly suffering.
But not nearly enough for me yet.
Taking up more of the thick duct tape, I bent her toes back and wrapped tape under them, then back against her ankles and around the pole. Now, not even her feet could move. They were nothing more than two bare ticklish patches of sole hanging…waiting…
“Mmnnnpphh…MMmnn—MMmnngg--MMMnnggg…”
I wasn’t sure, but that sound might have been the start of tickled crying. Unfazed, I again brought the feathers to bear, stroking one sole from heel to toe-base in a slow pattern, and tickling the other helpless foot with fast wriggling feather movements. Alternating the two styles kept Ginger in a fit of hysterics. Her forced sounds were unintelligible. It may have been minutes, it may have been hours, but I was completely lost in tickling those shapely, sexy feet. Simply knowing that her soles were helpless and mine for the tickling was enough to have made all of this worth it.
I got up and stretched for a bit. Breaking someone with tickle-torture isn’t an easy task, and I’m sure you’d feel very sorry for me.
As Ginger hung in the air, taped mercilessly against the post, she was doing an admirable job of catching her breath. I gave her some time as I leaned against the post and simply admired the dark beauty of all of it. For a brief moment, I felt sorry for her, but screw it. I’d waited all my life for an opportunity like this, and I wasn’t about to let something as meaningless as a conscience get in the way. I started taunting her again.
“Have I mentioned that you look simply delicious all tied up like this?”
“Mmnnnphhh AWffffff”…that could have been “No More” or “Fuck Off”…either way, I liked it.
“You know” I said as I placed the flat of my right hand against her stomach, “you have one of the nicest tummies I’ve ever seen. So flat, so tight…nice curves, cute little bellybutton…” I ran my hand over the various parts as I taunted her. “I mean, look at that unblemished skin right over your pussy, look at those subtle hips. Let me ask you something….”
“Mmwwwggnn” Ginger pitifully moaned as she anticipated where I was going>
“Do you have a ticklish tummy? I mean, would it be really bad if I took advantage of your little ummm…situation and tickled you there?”
“Mmnnghh…MMNNNFF!!!”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought….tickle…tickle…TICKLE….!”
I ran a single stiff finger over her tight belly, right between her navel and her side. Hooking it slightly, I tickled her around her flat midriff until I found a spot that sounded better than the other muffled shrieks. Coming around the front of her plastic prison, I used both hands to flutter-tickle her tummy as she tried to suck it in, or simple wiggled madly. Her movement was seriously restricted, but Ginger could still manage to squirm enough to make it look really nice. At least for me.
“Boy, you really are ticklish here, aren’t you?” I said as I started poking her tight abs all over, from her hips to her waist to the front of her midriff. I punctuated each hard poke with “Here?” and “How about that?” Just fucking with her mind. It was working, as the sounds she was making were losing some of their firepower. She was still laughing it up and screaming under the cruel gag, but her intakes of air were longer, her moments of silent laughter stretching out more and more.
After enjoying her belly for God knows how long, I got an evil idea and dipped one of the feathers into her navel. Every other thing I tried that I thought would be minor seemed to affect this little girl to no end, so why not tickling her belly-button?
Oh, how it worked! Rapid muted giggles filled the room as her navel was exploited with the tickling feather. Just the sight of that tickliscious little tummy wiggling and squirming with the feather in her button was making me lose it a little. Probably the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. The cruelest perhaps, but who’s splitting hairs here?
I added pokes and hard little pinch-tickles to her side as the feather destroyed the nerves inside Ginger’s deep navel. As I tickled, I knew that the utter breaking of this girl was held between her tits and her ass…this belly was going to be my key. This was easily her worst ticklish area, as her desperate screams proved. There was little sound of laughter anymore, just a muted form of pleading and begging mixed with any sound her throat could produce at each and every unwelcome stimulus.
“Now, my little tickle-toy,” I addressed her with her new title, “we’re going see just how ticklish you really are….ready?”
“MMMNNPPHH!!”
“…set…”
“MMNNGGGNNHH!!!!!”
“GO!”
I couldn’t resist the taunt. With her tight little tummy right under my resting fingertips, I could feel the muscles tighten with every word of it. Any response to the last was cut off as I simply dug into her sides. Grabbing the incurve of her waist, I pressed deeply into the muscles under her tight skin and tickled hard and steady. Right over her shapely hips, I found “that” nerve that drives all ticklish girls crazy. Ginger, however, was beyond crazy. She wasn’t even making sounds that resembled laughter anymore. It was mostly tortured silence with a good lungful of scream every five seconds or so. Tickling over and over, I knew her brain was being slammed with sensory overload. Tied immobile, blinded and silenced, all my little toy could do was feel.
For my own part, I was totally lost. Right or wrong, this was my moment, what I’d always waited for. Maybe Ginger was the proxy for all the hot girls I couldn’t do this to before, maybe it was a form of really displaced love…maybe there was just something about her that pissed me off. Who knew, and who cared at that point. My fingers flew over her body as I lost myself in the torture. I let off the hip-squeezing and moved down to lowest extremities of her belly, right over that thin, tiny thong. A single hooked finger tickled along that smooth expanse of tickleflesh as another drilled into her side, rotating around and massaging a very ticklish muscle underneath. Soon, two fingers were drilling into her tummy, drawing subtly up and down and left to right. Those spots were sending Ginger into nothing short of insanity. I found this out when I stopped for a moment and peeled the tape from Ginger’s tiny mouth. The cloth that filled the small space was pulled out and Ginger drew in a long deep breath…
…before becoming completely incoherent.
“No…..I…..it….please….take….away….lemme go….”
She was still hitching, perhaps still feeling ancilliary responses from her overworked nerve-endings. She definitely wasn’t making any sense. I probably pushed her too far, or for too long. But there was still more to do. I took the gag off in a small act of mercy, but mostly because I wanted to hear this.
Plus, Ginger was going to really need her air.
“Well, my dear, you’ve done remarkably well,” I said sardonically as I fished out my next toy, “I think you deserve a little reward.”
“Thank….no….tickle…please….” Whatever that meant.
What I had obtained was a slim, small vibrator. As Ginger mumbled on, I slipped the device between the small space between her thighs, pressed tight up against her barely-covered womanhood. A quick piece of the tape fastened it in place and I turned it on the lowest setting.
Ginger immediately reacted, trying to arch her back but only succeeding in making her wrapped tits bobble up and down a bit.
“Do you like that?” I asked as I took a place behind her.
“Y-Yes….just don’t tickle me….anything….”
“Well, I’m sorry dear, but your pleasure simply must come with my own, so I’m afraid we’ll have to tickle you into a few orgasms. Maybe I’ll stop sooner if you be a good little girl and behave, ok?”
“Oh please…..PLEASE!!!!”
The vibration was starting to have a small effect, and I took advantage of that by running my fingers down her armpits and over her tits from behind.
“NO!!! HEE HEEE HAAAA…OOOOHHHH….OHGODNO!!!!....AHAAAA..AHAAAAA!!”
“Kitchie Kitchie Kooo!!!!” I teased as I fell totally into this. Nobody was around but my tickle-slave, and she wasn’t about to tease me for my choice of verbal taunts. “Tickle tickle!!! Tickle tickle tickle…..” I kept it up constantly as my hands ran up and down her flanks, tickling her sides and going to town on every inch of tickle-skin I could find. Ginger’s body strained against the tape as her first slow orgasm built into a crescendo.
“OOOhhhhh!!! OHHHH….MY…GAWWWWWDDD!!....Pl-Pleasenomorenomorenomore!!!”
Wordlessly, I moved to the front and turned the vibrator up. I wasn’t sure how much more Ginger could take, but I was doing quite fine thankyouverymuch. She was one raw nerve at this point, and it was close to breaking. I tickled her under her arms as I got her to say she was my tickle toy. I forced her to say she loved it as the second orgasm wracked her body, I even got her to sing a slightly unintelligible verse of “I’m a Little Teapot” while I spider-tickled her lower belly. She was mine. She was gone. No matter what happened later, at least one mission was accomplished.
Ginger had snapped.
After the hours of Ginger’s torment came to a close, with me getting tons of great footage out of it, I untied her and placed her into a cab. All the while she mumbled something about bunnies and hung limply as I helped her dress.
I never went back to Diamond Dolls, although I heard from a friend that their star attraction had simply stopped showing up. I was never bothered by anyone, so I stopped worrying. She was a stripper who did a bondage flick, as far as anyone else was concerned. Nobody wanted to get involved and I assumed Ginger was just glad it was over. Or maybe she was taking a brief padded-room vacation. I never found out.
I should wrap this up, as the hour is growing late and there’s a great new strip-club that opened a few weeks ago…they should be opening in about a half-hour. There’s this adorable little redhead that works there and this thousand dollars isn’t going to spend itself…
“Exactly,” I replied, my own anticipation veiled behind a poker face trained for weeks, “I can get a small bondage website started, you walk away with a thousand dollars and we both have a little fun. Come on, you know me. I’m not one of these horny guys looking for a ten dollar fuck in the back room, I know the deal.”
At least that’s the way I hoped I came across. I’d been coming to Diamond Dolls for over two months, getting to know the girls, tipping heavily and behaving myself as well as one was expected to in a strip club. The fact that Ginger and I were having a business conversation while she was giving me a lap dance in one of the club’s private rooms should have driven home the fact that I wasn’t looking to get laid. Besides, I was fairly certain at this point that Ginger considered me a non-threat. Night after night of twenty dollar bills slipped beneath the strap of her thong and more-than-generous tips for back-room private dances probably loosened her a bit as well.
In the two months I’d been planning this, Ginger had become my favorite, the one I truly wanted for this…exercise. Diamond Dolls employed some deliciously beautiful girls (as any strip club that wants to stay in business does), but there was something about Ginger that drew me to her from very near the start. It wasn’t simply the fact that she was by far the most physically attractive of Dolls’ dancers, which she was. While all of the girls looked fantastic, Ginger was something beyond the ordinary. It was as if all of the best attributes of every other dancer were combined to create the ultimate example of female perfection…and male fantasy.
Some of the other girls had what I called a “specialty” look. Really huge chest, for those who liked that. Butt-length blond hair to connect certain men to that particular image of beauty…it seemed that each one had something. Ginger, on the other hand, had everything, at least everything that I found attractive. Her hair was a chestnut-tinged honey brown with the occasional subtle streak of blond, falling in loose curly waves over her shoulders. Her five-foot-four frame was built upon a body that was, for me anyway, sheer perfection. She was slender where you wanted her to be, and filled-out where she needed to be. Her round breasts were slightly larger than one would expect from a smallish girl, but firm in a way exclusive to youth. Her body curved in to form a tight trunk with a hard, flat stomach, finally flaring out over a set of luscious hips that seemed somehow independent of the rest of her body when she danced. Ginger’s legs were the pedestals of a goddess…slim, shapely and apparently able to contort into a variety of extreme positions. The feet that they ended in were works of art in their own way; perfectly shaped with the most adorable rounded toes. I should know, as those toes found their way onto various parts of my own body during our many lap dances.
While Ginger’s body may have been what I considered perfect, it was her face that was capable of launching the proverbial thousand ships. Her eyes were a deep blue, slightly almond-shaped and maybe just that much too big for her face. The effect was striking, especially in combination with the long lashes that surrounded them. These doe-eyes were set upon a face that was heart-shaped in a subconscious tug-of-war between innocence and sensuality. High cheekbones framed those gorgeous eyes and gave way to an almost child-like jawline. Call me picky or just plain weird, but it was her mouth that put the final stroke on the masterpiece. A tiny, pursed little thing with full lips and an ever-so-slight downward draw. The whole package put together was almost too good to be real…a face that hung in the netherworld between virginal wonder and knowing experience.
As if her looks weren’t enough, she had a certain way about her that separated her from every other dancer at Diamond Dolls…hell, from every other woman I’d ever met for that matter. I know that exotic dancers push the envelope to personify male fantasy, but there was something different about Ginger. When she danced, she locked eyes with you in a way that made everything else go hazy. It was just you and her in the room, and the promises behind those eyes were those of rarified dreams. Her walk was swishy without being comical and her moves were serpentine. Maybe it was the fact that I paid far more than most for “special attention”, but Ginger in a private room was better than sex with most women. She could make you feel like she was yours…or you were hers. In the time between the insurance settlement that netted me seven figures and the moment that I knew my plan was in motion, I had more opportunities than I can remember to experience Ginger’s sensuality in private. I’d become a regular, and a trusted one at that. Management loved the cash that I was pumping into the place, and the girls found my level of respect a refreshing break from the constant groping. There were others I spent time with, but Ginger was my favorite.
It was a week ago that the seed was planted. The girls knew me as someone who’d treat them nicely, but wasn’t a prude by any means. I talked openly with them and used humor to lighten the mood. Ginger and I had a few passing moments that drifted into the topic of bondage, and it took everything I had not to pounce on the topic full force. Of course I wanted to see Ginger tied up, squirming around and under my control…but coming right out and saying that would have evaporated everything I’d built up. So the conversations stayed light until the moment was right. That moment came when she was on my lap, running her fingers through my hair and the talk turned to things exotic. Possibly remembering a past conversation, she asked me “Do you think I’d look good tied up?”
For all of Ginger’s perfection, I’d gleaned one thing from her. She was hard-up for cash. College didn’t work out for her, and she was in a fairly large amount of debt. In hindsight, this may have been what perfected her “act”, for she made quite a bit at the club, moreso than the other girls. When I mentioned that I was starting an online business catering to bondage videos (a line dropped at just the right time), I saw those huge eyes go wider just a little. I was fairly certain that she was testing me to see if I’d pay her to be in one. Jumping on that didn’t feel right, so I played it out for a couple of days. When she asked me the question, I knew I had her.
“Ginger”, I said, “I think you’d look smashing. I didn’t want to ask, because I’m sure you get propositioned all the time, but…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she cut me off, perhaps a little too eagerly, “I know you’re ok. We’re just talking about bondage, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said and made a show of placing my hand over my heart and giving the scout honesty sign, “just me and you, a camera and some bondage pics. I think you could be a big boost to getting this thing off the ground.”
“And how much does something like that usually pay?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes down and look disconcerned.
I knew she’d been offered all kinds of things in the past, and I was also quite aware that someone in her profession would be in the know concerning how much models get paid. So when I threw off a glib “Oh, I don’t know….say a thousand?” I saw the subtle change in her face. I think she thought she had me, that I had no idea what I was doing and simply had money to throw around. Two hundred bucks would have worked, but the proverbial hook, line and sinker were successfully cast now…
A few days had passed since giving Ginger directions to my house, and everything was ready. Hell, they’d been ready since the night I got home from our conversation! I think I stayed up for about eight hours prepping for this. Simple, yet effective…a single pole in my basement playroom was all that I’d need. That and about twenty rolls of duct tape, that is.
Interrupting my reverie was the chime of the doorbell. I answered it, and Ginger walked in. She was wearing a floor-length black coat and my mind went wild imagining what was underneath it. I didn’t have to wait long, as Ginger slid the coat over her shoulders to reveal a fantasy come to life.
“Will this do?” she asked coyly as I took her in. She was wearing a sparkly blue sort of thing for a top, a simple short-sleeved number that tied in a little knot between her ample breasts. Around her hips was a very short wrap-around skirt that tied over her right hip. I could see by the thin strings that showed under both garments that she had one of her tiny dancer’s bikinis on under the attractive outfit.
“That’ll be perfect, dear!” I answered in a show of appreciative shock, “the guys are going to love you…”
“So,” she asked, “what are we going to do? Tie me to the table or your bed or something? I just gotta squirm around a bit and look all helpless?”
“Something like that,” I replied, hoping my reaction to her use of the word squirm went unnoticed, “but being tied to the bed is really kinda old. We’re going to do something a little more…intense. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you, ok?”
“Sure,” she said as she followed me downstairs.
I could tell by the surprised look on Ginger’s face that she expected something that looked far more intimidating that what she saw upon reaching the basement. She probably had images of dark corners, dusty smells and thick chains hanging from the ceiling…but the well-lit and clean “workspace” probably offered her some relief, plus put her more at ease regarding my intentions.
Good.
Her eyes fell upon the centerpiece of the room, a pole that ran from floor to ceiling. Toward the top was a single metal ring set with a bolt into the wood. At the base was a short step-stool. Another ring was set slightly above the level of the stool.
“So, you wanna tie me to that?” she inquired, “Looks harmless enough. I guess I was expecting some sort of rack or something!”
“Like I said, it’s just a simple shoot. Damsel Tied To A Pole, that sort of thing. Oh, by the way, here’s your money…” Ginger’s eyes widened at the sight of the wad of bills totaling a thousand dollars. Any apprehension she might have still had withered away…I could see it.
“Now,” I said, “if you’ll just step up on the stool, we can get started.”
Ginger stepped up onto the stool and placed her arms over her head, her fingers toying playfully with the steel ring just within her reach. It seemed she knew what to do. Damn, this was gonna be easy…she was already in Dancer-Mode, all of that trained sensuality simply oozing out of her.
“Ok, let’s just get you fastened here….” I said as I placed the Velcro cuffs around her wrists, raising her arms back up and clipping the center hook to the ring. I repeated the procedure on her slim ankles, fastening them together and anchoring them to the ring below. Ginger began slowly writhing back and forth, teasing me and her perceived audience. She was a true pro.
I set up the camera on a tripod and took some sample shots. She was a willing model…for now. Time for Phase One to begin…
“Are you sure you can’t get out of that?” I asked, knowing full well that she couldn’t. She had a wide range of motion available, but she couldn’t pull her arms down or get her feet away from the pole. “Here, let’s just see how immobile you really are…”
Without warning, I picked up two small feathers and approached her.
“Wh-what are doing?” Ginger stammered.
“Just a quick test, don’t worry about it.” I replied as I placed the feathers along her bare sides and pulled them upward. The shriek I was met with surprised me, and I knew at that moment that Ginger was going to be the perfect girl for my little plan. The shorty-top still covered her armpits, but I played the pointed tips of the quills over the thin material anyway.
“NO! ST-STOP IT!!! HEE HEEEHAAAA…..Noooo!!!!!!”
Ginger’s face scrunched up into a grimace that tried desperately to contain a smile.
“What’s the matter, Ginger? Ticklish?” I asked.
“Y-Yes!!!! I can’t STAND being tickled!” she shrieked.
I placed the feathers down after stroking her body a few more times and getting a far better response than I’d expected. I didn’t want to play my hand quite yet, I just needed to know, and to put a little fear into the girl.
“Ok, ok…” I said with a smile, “that’s enough. Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you couldn’t get out.”
“That’s alright,” she replied, even now a little out of breath after relatively minor tickling, “just don’t tickle me anymore, ok? I really can’t stand it!”
“No sweat. You mean you really can’t take a little tickling?”
“Not one bit!” she giggled, “and you’re a meanie for finding out my secret!”
Nice to see she was still in the spirit of things.
“Well, now that that’s done, let’s take the bondage up a notch, ok? I got some great shots of you so far, but I need to show some more hard-core stuff.”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, not yet showing any hesitation that I could spot.
“Ever heard of mummification?” I asked nonchalantly.
“That’s where the girl gets wrapped up or something, right?”
“Exactly,” I said, “you game?”
I knew she was, and also knew that she was overly grateful for the payday, but when she simply said “Sure”, my heart raced a bit. To be honest, I didn’t really expect to get this far. I’d always wanted to do this, I had fantasy after fantasy of tying up a hot stripper and tickling the crap out of her, but those were supposed to be just fantasies, right? I was now in the middle of it, and the best part was…
…I’d get away with it. She was a stripper who took a large sum of money from me to do a bondage shoot, and there wouldn’t be a mark on her when I was done. Of course, I’d probably never be able to set foot in Diamond Dolls again, but screw it. There were others.
With Ginger still stretched out on the pole, I pulled out the box of duct-tape rolls. She gasped a little at the sight of them, but seemed resigned to being mummified. Well, partially mummified…but Ginger didn’t need to know that yet.
We made some small-talk as I started at her ankles. I wanted to keep her at ease, so we discussed the shoot, her “career”, the incredible amount of money she could make if she became my lead model once the “site” took off…during it all, she played the part of fantasy-maker to the hilt. By the time the little minx was done getting me more excited than I’d been in probably my whole life, her legs were encased in wrap after wrap of duct tape. The continuous stream of binding tape went from the tops of her ankles to just about an inch lower than the space between her thighs, leaving her hips exposed. I had to pull the tiny, sparkly skirt away from getting wrapped, so it hung slightly over the last pass of tape.
“Wow, I really can’t budge here!” Ginger stated as she tried to twist and turn her long legs. “You do a pretty good job…done this before?”
Yeah, Ginger, a million times…in my head. Now you’re getting it for real.
“Once or twice, just to get the feel of it before I invested anything into a shoot,” was what I wound up actually saying, “and now for the rest.”
I walked around the pole and started wrapping her up over her fingertips and down her wrists.
“Aren’t you going to finish the rest of me?” she asked, and for a fleeting moment I feared she was going to panic or freak out or just change her mind. Play it cool, dude.
“Nah, it works better this way. Meet in the middle, so there’s no slack.” Pure bullshit, but she didn’t know that.
“Oh, sounds right.”
So, we continued our small talk, most of it revolving around what Ginger was going to do with the thousands of dollars she was going to make eventually, and before I had time to fully appreciate it, I had Ginger wrapped tight to the pole.
The tape covered her completely from her fingers, down her arms and ending a few scant inches from the upper limits of her armpits. She had to tip her head forward a bit to accomplish this, but she never complained or questioned. It should always be this easy…
“Now, for the finishing touches…” I said as I bent her head forward and tied her hair into a pony-tail. She asked what I was doing, and I threw something at her about total bondage requiring a blindfold of some sort. I placed her head back against the pole and wrapped several more layers of tape around her head, over her eyes and even a little over her neck. Not too tight, as her arms were farther forward than the level of her neck, but it looked good. The tape went upward around her neck, looping back up to the level of her upper arms and back around the pole, pinning her head back completely.
“Ok, so now you finish the job and wrap me up like a mummy?” she asked.
“Well,” I said, feeling the plan come to a slow close as my heart raced upon its completion, “not exactly.”
“What do you mean?” Ginger queried, “aren’t I supposed to me totally encased or something?”
“Not for what I have in mind…”
I let that sink in for a second as I took a lingering look at Ginger. She was almost sucked into the pole, that’s how tight the bondage was. Her arms and legs covered in the restricting tape, she was utterly helpless. I gazed at the tiny outfit she was wearing…
“You know,” I said, “I think you’d look better in these pics without all that on you.”
“But…but what did you mean by that? What do you have in mind?!?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s nothing painful…there, let’s lose these...”
I took the tiny skirt in my hand and was surprised to find that it came off with a quick tug. What remained was the smallest thong I’d seen, just barely covering her private area, with thin elastic straps traveling up and over her sexy hips. Her top was held together with a simple knot between her breasts, and when the sparkly thing fell away with the snaps at the arms, I beheld a set of breasts that although I’d seen before, looked completely better in bondage. All that covered them (if you could call it that) was a very tiny bikini top whose cups were just large enough to cover her areolae, all the rest was just string.
“There,” I said, “much better.”
“What’s going on?” Ginger asked, with more apprehension in her voice than I’d heard before.
Time to lower the boom and play my well-hidden hand. I spoke calmly to her as I leaned against the pole and brought my lips to her ear.
“Ginger,” I said, “you are here for a photo shoot, but there is something that I’ve always wanted to do, and you’re going to help me do it.”
“Wh-what’s that?” she asked as the first signs of struggle appeared.
“Well, my helpless vixen…quite simply, I’ve always wanted to tie up a hot little stripper and….tickle the shit out of her…”
The first signs of struggle that previously appeared immediately became more desperate. I knew this from her expressions and the tensing of the muscles that showed, as I never would have known by any kind of movement. There wasn’t any. She was stuck, good and proper.
“No God PLEASE!!!” she started to beg, “You don’t understand, I CAN’T be tickled! I’m afraid of it, I hate it! Plee-eee-eease don’t do this. I wanna go now!”
“Oh, come on, Ginger…you can’t leave now, it’s just getting interesting! Now…smile for the camera!”
With that, I slowly brought one single finger toward her exposed and stretched armpit. Her pleas became instant laughter as my index finger stroked the length of her underarm, tracing a pattern around the ticklish skin and occasionally right through it. Nothing too hard, nothing too serious, just a methodical stroking of the ticklish armpit of a bound girl. However, to hear Ginger, you’d think I was sticking her with needles or something. Her “hee-hee”s were a constant staccato rhythm with a rare pause for a sharp intake of breath. Seeing that tickling her was having a greater effect than I’d imagined, I doubled the stakes. Taking a place directly in front of her writhing body, I tickled under both arms, still with a single finger each. Her skin lived up to every expectation I’d had, smooth, tight and apparently extremely ticklish. My fingers traced around the hollows, into the pits, and wriggled annoyingly as I picked up the pace. Two fingers became eight as I started a rhythm of raking down her skin from where the tape ended to the sides of her ample breasts. Ginger was in hysterics, and I hadn’t even really started yet.
“Pl-Pl-plhhee-heee-heeeeeAAAIIGGHHH!!!! Nononononono AHAAA…AHAAAA..AHAAAAA…..stopitstopitstopit!!!....HAAAHAAAAA!!!”
As I tickled her, her laughter became more desperate and I could hear the tape strain to hold her back. It wouldn’t give, I knew that, but she must have been struggling fiercely. Her laughs were becoming less and less understandable as laughter, more like short breaths between whatever sound could be forced from her throat.
Her breasts were my next target, and I enjoyed running the feathers I would use between my fingers as I listened to more of Ginger’s begging. Each plea was punctuated by a jiggle of those heavenly tits that were too much for the elastic straps to properly restrain. I could take care of that later if I felt like it.
“P-Please stop tic-ahhhh-tickling….me! I don’t want to do this anymore, PLEASE?!? I can’t take this, pleeeeease???”
“Oh, Ginger, Ginger…” I intoned as I approached her body with the feathers that were being twirled for my benefit alone, “we have so much more fun to have! You signed on for this, remember?”
“Not this!! You didn’t say anything about tickling!”
“And you said you were a professional,” I said with a droll. Might as well make her feel like shit along with torturing her, huh? I’d planned this for far too long, dreamed about this for far too many nights to care now. I liked Ginger, but I never got attached. She was my victim, and I was going to see exactly how far her body and mind could be pushed.
“But, but…I never thought you’d…AAAIGGHHHH!!!”
Her current round of pleading was cut short by the tips of the feathers stroking the rounded sides of her tits. I knew some girls with sensitive ones, but this girl was off the chart. The lightest of touches raised tiny goosebumps for a moment. I used the feathers to tickle her breasts all over, from where they melded into her armpits all the way around and over the stiffening nipples under that small patch of thin fabric.
Over the sound of her tittering laughter, I used my serious voice, as if this were nothing more than a simple photo shoot. “Let’s get rid of this and get these girls at attention, shall we?”
Before Ginger had time to regard the meaning there, I snapped the elastic string between the undersized cups and pulled the tiny top away from her bound body. Taking up a roll of electrical tape, I began wrapping her breasts together. It didn’t really restrict her any more than she was, but it forced her breasts up and pulled away from the soft skin of her armpits, isolating that ticklish target even further. I didn’t wrap much, just enough to bring them together, but it had a profound effect on her nipples. They thrust forward, perched atop her now-puffy areolae.
I went back to the feather-torment, using the very tips to tease her nipples. She immediately began a more subdued form of her previous laughter. It was constant, but she wasn’t getting the full force….yet. I could see it was having an annoying effect, though…one that blew wide open as I again played the feathers all over her bound breasts. Ginger’s stuttering half-laugh, half-struggled-breathing was back as the feathers traced cruel paths back under her arms. With her tits tied together, the skin was even farther tightened, and the tickling was intense. I even took one of the feathers and tickled under her nose, utilizing the immobility of her head. This had a greater effect than I would have thought, so I changed tactics.
“Tickle, tickle tickle!” I teased as I played the feathers lightly under her nose, over her lips and down her neck, the part that was showing anyway.
“StopitStopitStopit!!!!!Nooooo! OOhhhHooooHooooooAAiiigghhhnononono!!”
“Ok,” I said as I tossed the feathers aside, “ready for the real fun to begin?”
“No wait!!!! I c-can’t…I can’t t-take anym—NOOOAAIIGHH!!!!!!!”
Without warning, I moved into a much more serious form of tickling, wriggling all of my fingers madly under her arms, poking and prodding her soft armpits and kneading the spot along her breasts. Ginger went ballistic. There was no laughter, only a scream that pierced my eardrums. Traveling farther down, I began poking her tight ribcage. I tickled each rib individually, as Ginger rewarded my efforts with a different kind of shriek or yell or laugh for every one.
“Ticklish ribs, babe?” I teased.
“Y---Y---HaaaHaaaHAAAAAA Y-e-esssssaaaiigghhnonono!!!”
She could barely form a one-syllable word, so I knew it was really getting to her. Ten fingers spider-walked over her protruding ribs, tickling all at once, one at a time, soft, hard….each technique driving Ginger farther and farther from sanity. When I placed my stiff fingers against her ribs and shook my hands up and down, dragging her skin over the bones in a move meant for nothing more than intense tickle-torture, she started wailing.
After a few minutes of that, and with my fingers needing a brief rest, I moved into the next phase of breaking Ginger completely.
“You know, you’re being way too loud here, I think we need a gag to really make this bondage complete…”
“NOOOO!!!!Oh my God PLEASE don’t do that! I’ll go nuts! I swear, I’ll lose it…plee-heee-heeeease…..”
“Yes,” I replied coldly, “you will go nuts….I’m fully aware of that.”
Without another word, I stuffed a thick cloth into her mouth and proceeded to wrap more duct tape over her lips. A few passes and she was silenced. Well, not silenced, but verbally helpless just as she was physically restrained.
“Better?” I teased as I gave her a very quick tickle under her over-sensitized arms.
“MMMNNPPHH!!!!”
“Now, for a much more effective part of tickle-torture….you ready?” I asked, whether she was or not.
Bending down and kneeling, I simply pulled the short foot-stool out from under Ginger’s feet. Before, it served to keep her balanced and at the right height for me, but now that the tape held her tightly to the pole, her feet simply dangled in mid air. Knowing what I was going to do, Ginger started mewing into the gag. It became far more desperate as I slowly unbuckled the small high-heels she was wearing. Within moments, I had a perfectly shaped pair of bare feet dangling and twitching. Rather than dive right in, I devised something with a decidedly cruel twist to it. Again taking up my two feathers, I simply placed the quill ends against the center of her bare soles and pressed in ever-so-slightly. Even the simple touch of them against her feet caused muffled giggles to escape the gag.
“Could you imagine what that’s going to feel like when I start moving them?” I teased, fully enveloped in my Mastership of this sexy girl in bondage. I had her body, her mind was about to go next… “I mean, all I have to do is move these a little and that annoying feeling is going to build and build…and you can’t even pull away, can you? Poor little thing, about to get her feet tickled while she’s all tied up….that’s gotta suck!”
“MMnnpphhh! MMNNGGHH!!!! MMNNNGGHH!!”
At the first slow drag, I momentarily thought the gag had worked loose. Ginger’s screaming laughter was only barely contained by the cloth in her mouth and the tape over it. Picking up the pace very deliberately, stroke by stroke, the pointed tips ran back and forth over the bare skin of her soles. As she started thrashing her feet, I grabbed the toes of her right foot, pulled them back and floated the feather over her ticklish sole. Back and forth and over and over, the tickling continued as Ginger moaned into the gag. I could feel the desperate strength in her foot, her tiny toes putting forth a Herculean effort to escape. I tickled both feet the same way, eventually going to my fingers. Fluttering wildly over every inch of ticklish foot-flesh, I then angled my fingers in so that my short nails scraped against her soles. The only thing that could move was her feet, so they were overcompensating for the rest of her immobility. Thrashing at light-speed, but unable to move far enough away from ten upturned and tickling fingers, her feet spoke for her. She was in agony, and I was in ecstasy. Those tickly little feet were every fetishist’s dream, and the girl they were attached do was truly suffering.
But not nearly enough for me yet.
Taking up more of the thick duct tape, I bent her toes back and wrapped tape under them, then back against her ankles and around the pole. Now, not even her feet could move. They were nothing more than two bare ticklish patches of sole hanging…waiting…
“Mmnnnpphh…MMmnn—MMmnngg--MMMnnggg…”
I wasn’t sure, but that sound might have been the start of tickled crying. Unfazed, I again brought the feathers to bear, stroking one sole from heel to toe-base in a slow pattern, and tickling the other helpless foot with fast wriggling feather movements. Alternating the two styles kept Ginger in a fit of hysterics. Her forced sounds were unintelligible. It may have been minutes, it may have been hours, but I was completely lost in tickling those shapely, sexy feet. Simply knowing that her soles were helpless and mine for the tickling was enough to have made all of this worth it.
I got up and stretched for a bit. Breaking someone with tickle-torture isn’t an easy task, and I’m sure you’d feel very sorry for me.
As Ginger hung in the air, taped mercilessly against the post, she was doing an admirable job of catching her breath. I gave her some time as I leaned against the post and simply admired the dark beauty of all of it. For a brief moment, I felt sorry for her, but screw it. I’d waited all my life for an opportunity like this, and I wasn’t about to let something as meaningless as a conscience get in the way. I started taunting her again.
“Have I mentioned that you look simply delicious all tied up like this?”
“Mmnnnphhh AWffffff”…that could have been “No More” or “Fuck Off”…either way, I liked it.
“You know” I said as I placed the flat of my right hand against her stomach, “you have one of the nicest tummies I’ve ever seen. So flat, so tight…nice curves, cute little bellybutton…” I ran my hand over the various parts as I taunted her. “I mean, look at that unblemished skin right over your pussy, look at those subtle hips. Let me ask you something….”
“Mmwwwggnn” Ginger pitifully moaned as she anticipated where I was going>
“Do you have a ticklish tummy? I mean, would it be really bad if I took advantage of your little ummm…situation and tickled you there?”
“Mmnnghh…MMNNNFF!!!”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought….tickle…tickle…TICKLE….!”
I ran a single stiff finger over her tight belly, right between her navel and her side. Hooking it slightly, I tickled her around her flat midriff until I found a spot that sounded better than the other muffled shrieks. Coming around the front of her plastic prison, I used both hands to flutter-tickle her tummy as she tried to suck it in, or simple wiggled madly. Her movement was seriously restricted, but Ginger could still manage to squirm enough to make it look really nice. At least for me.
“Boy, you really are ticklish here, aren’t you?” I said as I started poking her tight abs all over, from her hips to her waist to the front of her midriff. I punctuated each hard poke with “Here?” and “How about that?” Just fucking with her mind. It was working, as the sounds she was making were losing some of their firepower. She was still laughing it up and screaming under the cruel gag, but her intakes of air were longer, her moments of silent laughter stretching out more and more.
After enjoying her belly for God knows how long, I got an evil idea and dipped one of the feathers into her navel. Every other thing I tried that I thought would be minor seemed to affect this little girl to no end, so why not tickling her belly-button?
Oh, how it worked! Rapid muted giggles filled the room as her navel was exploited with the tickling feather. Just the sight of that tickliscious little tummy wiggling and squirming with the feather in her button was making me lose it a little. Probably the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. The cruelest perhaps, but who’s splitting hairs here?
I added pokes and hard little pinch-tickles to her side as the feather destroyed the nerves inside Ginger’s deep navel. As I tickled, I knew that the utter breaking of this girl was held between her tits and her ass…this belly was going to be my key. This was easily her worst ticklish area, as her desperate screams proved. There was little sound of laughter anymore, just a muted form of pleading and begging mixed with any sound her throat could produce at each and every unwelcome stimulus.
“Now, my little tickle-toy,” I addressed her with her new title, “we’re going see just how ticklish you really are….ready?”
“MMMNNPPHH!!”
“…set…”
“MMNNGGGNNHH!!!!!”
“GO!”
I couldn’t resist the taunt. With her tight little tummy right under my resting fingertips, I could feel the muscles tighten with every word of it. Any response to the last was cut off as I simply dug into her sides. Grabbing the incurve of her waist, I pressed deeply into the muscles under her tight skin and tickled hard and steady. Right over her shapely hips, I found “that” nerve that drives all ticklish girls crazy. Ginger, however, was beyond crazy. She wasn’t even making sounds that resembled laughter anymore. It was mostly tortured silence with a good lungful of scream every five seconds or so. Tickling over and over, I knew her brain was being slammed with sensory overload. Tied immobile, blinded and silenced, all my little toy could do was feel.
For my own part, I was totally lost. Right or wrong, this was my moment, what I’d always waited for. Maybe Ginger was the proxy for all the hot girls I couldn’t do this to before, maybe it was a form of really displaced love…maybe there was just something about her that pissed me off. Who knew, and who cared at that point. My fingers flew over her body as I lost myself in the torture. I let off the hip-squeezing and moved down to lowest extremities of her belly, right over that thin, tiny thong. A single hooked finger tickled along that smooth expanse of tickleflesh as another drilled into her side, rotating around and massaging a very ticklish muscle underneath. Soon, two fingers were drilling into her tummy, drawing subtly up and down and left to right. Those spots were sending Ginger into nothing short of insanity. I found this out when I stopped for a moment and peeled the tape from Ginger’s tiny mouth. The cloth that filled the small space was pulled out and Ginger drew in a long deep breath…
…before becoming completely incoherent.
“No…..I…..it….please….take….away….lemme go….”
She was still hitching, perhaps still feeling ancilliary responses from her overworked nerve-endings. She definitely wasn’t making any sense. I probably pushed her too far, or for too long. But there was still more to do. I took the gag off in a small act of mercy, but mostly because I wanted to hear this.
Plus, Ginger was going to really need her air.
“Well, my dear, you’ve done remarkably well,” I said sardonically as I fished out my next toy, “I think you deserve a little reward.”
“Thank….no….tickle…please….” Whatever that meant.
What I had obtained was a slim, small vibrator. As Ginger mumbled on, I slipped the device between the small space between her thighs, pressed tight up against her barely-covered womanhood. A quick piece of the tape fastened it in place and I turned it on the lowest setting.
Ginger immediately reacted, trying to arch her back but only succeeding in making her wrapped tits bobble up and down a bit.
“Do you like that?” I asked as I took a place behind her.
“Y-Yes….just don’t tickle me….anything….”
“Well, I’m sorry dear, but your pleasure simply must come with my own, so I’m afraid we’ll have to tickle you into a few orgasms. Maybe I’ll stop sooner if you be a good little girl and behave, ok?”
“Oh please…..PLEASE!!!!”
The vibration was starting to have a small effect, and I took advantage of that by running my fingers down her armpits and over her tits from behind.
“NO!!! HEE HEEE HAAAA…OOOOHHHH….OHGODNO!!!!....AHAAAA..AHAAAAA!!”
“Kitchie Kitchie Kooo!!!!” I teased as I fell totally into this. Nobody was around but my tickle-slave, and she wasn’t about to tease me for my choice of verbal taunts. “Tickle tickle!!! Tickle tickle tickle…..” I kept it up constantly as my hands ran up and down her flanks, tickling her sides and going to town on every inch of tickle-skin I could find. Ginger’s body strained against the tape as her first slow orgasm built into a crescendo.
“OOOhhhhh!!! OHHHH….MY…GAWWWWWDDD!!....Pl-Pleasenomorenomorenomore!!!”
Wordlessly, I moved to the front and turned the vibrator up. I wasn’t sure how much more Ginger could take, but I was doing quite fine thankyouverymuch. She was one raw nerve at this point, and it was close to breaking. I tickled her under her arms as I got her to say she was my tickle toy. I forced her to say she loved it as the second orgasm wracked her body, I even got her to sing a slightly unintelligible verse of “I’m a Little Teapot” while I spider-tickled her lower belly. She was mine. She was gone. No matter what happened later, at least one mission was accomplished.
Ginger had snapped.
After the hours of Ginger’s torment came to a close, with me getting tons of great footage out of it, I untied her and placed her into a cab. All the while she mumbled something about bunnies and hung limply as I helped her dress.
I never went back to Diamond Dolls, although I heard from a friend that their star attraction had simply stopped showing up. I was never bothered by anyone, so I stopped worrying. She was a stripper who did a bondage flick, as far as anyone else was concerned. Nobody wanted to get involved and I assumed Ginger was just glad it was over. Or maybe she was taking a brief padded-room vacation. I never found out.
I should wrap this up, as the hour is growing late and there’s a great new strip-club that opened a few weeks ago…they should be opening in about a half-hour. There’s this adorable little redhead that works there and this thousand dollars isn’t going to spend itself…
