Here is my first story, which became my first post on the TMF in January 2002:
THE SORORITY
This is an F/m story. If you don't like that, don't read it.
All characters in this story are 18 years old or older.
Friday, 11pm
-------------
Jay was nervous as he showered. This was his chance to get back together with
Karen. A senior at Woodrow College, Jay had had no other long term relationship
in his life. He had been so very happy with Karen as his girlfriend for a year,
but then he had blown it by being stupid at the party one month ago. It had been
a party at her sorority, Tau Kappa Lambda, to celebrate the installation of the
new officers. Karen, a tall, athletic blonde, captain of the women's soccer
team, was the new vice president of the sorority. She was quite busy at the
party, getting her picture taken, conferring with the other officers, and
greeting new members.
So Jay, left to himself, drank too much and flirted with some of the sorority
members. It was all a bit fuzzy in his memory, but he seemed to recall fondling
the large breasts of a cute sophomore, Wendy, before he fell down, too drunk to
stand.
Karen had been furious. Had not spoken to him since. Had made no response to the
flowers, chocolate, and pleading letters and e-mails that he sent. He just had
to get her back. She was smart, beautiful, shapely, and fun to be with. Her only
fault, Jay thought, was was a predilliction to tickle him too much. She was
really strong, both from soccer and aerobics, and it was all Jay could do to
pull her hands away from his rib cage or armpits.
Well, Jay thought, as he dried off, nobody is perfect, but Karen is as close as
humanly possible, and this is my last chance. She had finally answered him, a
short note asking him to come to the sorority house at midnight. A strange time
for a make-up date, but he would take whatever chance she gave him.
Friday, 11:58pm
----------------
"Hello, Jay. So glad you're here on time."
"Of course," he said, offering the roses he had brought. "I am so glad that
you've agreed to see me. I am so sorry that I--"
"You don't have to say it again, Jay. I read all your letter and e-mails. Let's
just drink a toast to our future, and not worry about by-gones." She handed him
a large champagne flute, and took one for herself.
Jay drank up, thinking that she must really forgive him, if she was giving him
alcohol, the agent of his errant behavior. Then he thought he was dizzy, or that
the sorority house was spinning. Then he wasn't thinking anything at all.
Saturday, 9:30am
----------------
Jay woke with a headache. He tried to rub his head, but he couldn't move his
arms. He looked around in horror, and discovered that his head was all he could
move, besides wiggling his fingers. He was secured to an exercise bench, with
his wrists in padded cuffs attached firmly to one end of the bench. A belt
around his waist had ropes going off in all directions; beyond his sight, under
the bench, they were secure tied. The belt was all that he wore; he had been
stripped. He could wriggle, from side to side, perhaps a quarter of an inch.
His ankles were clamped in a solid wooden set of stocks at the far end of the
bench. The two holes had been padded with foam, but Jay could feel the hard wood
through the foam, and could not pull out, not even a fraction of an inch. The
top of the wooden stock had twenty metal eye-holes screwed into it. Each one of
his toes was tied with strong twine, not once but twice, to eye-holes. The soles
of his feet were flexed and immobile. Jay realized what this meant, and he began
to sweat, a cold sweat.
He did recognize the room. It was the basement of the Tau Kappa Lambda house,
the same room in which the party had been held. A ghastly thought struck
him--they held their parties in this large, finished basement because it was
well sound-proofed.
Saturday, 10am
---------------
Karen came in, wearing her tiniest bikini. "Hi, there, sleepy head! Did-"
"Karen, please, let me go! Don't hurt me," began Jay.
"Don't interrupt me again, or I might just do that. But I'm not planning to hurt
you, not at all. So why are you sweating like a pig and shaking? You know that I
always keep my promises, and I _do_ promise not to hurt you. What scares you?"
"Uhh, I don't know," mumbled Jay.
"Say it, or it will be even worse for you. Say, it, Jay, if you don't want to
get me angry. Say it. _Exactly_ what are you afraid of?"
There was a stern look on her face,and her sky-blue eyes stared right into him.
Jay sighed, and gave up. "I'm afraid that you're going to tickle me."
Karen laughed. "_Tickle_ you? Why, I never would have thought of that myself.
Never. But now that you've mentioned it, it does seem to be a fine idea. I do
believe that I will follow up on _your_ suggestion. And it might take your mind
off other things," she added, poking his erection. Despite his fears, the sight
of her fabulous legs, bare from toes to thighs, and of her firm breasts, had
produced the obvious reaction.
Jay began to beg. "Please don't do this, Karen, please don't, you don't want
to--aahhh, HAHHAHHAHHH!!"
His pleas were cut off by Karen's fingers, poking at his short ribs. She began
to count his ribs, very slowly, up from the lowest pair. Her fingers never
stopped moving and kneading as she counted.
"One. Oh my, but you're wriggling. Tickle, tickle, tickle. How does that feel?
Two. Do be careful not to bang your head too hard. Maybe I'll get you a pillow
later. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Three. Aren't you the ticklish one? Aren't you a
ticklish little boy? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Four."
Amidst the agony of his laughter, Jay did not like being demoted from
21-year-old college senior to boy. Karen was only up to the ninth pair of ribs
when she saw that he was not breathing well.
"I'll give you a minute to catch your breathe. Be sure to thank me for it. One
minute." She looked at the large wall clock, with its sweep second hand.
"Thank you? You bitch! You-aha HAHAHAHAHHAahahHHAAHAHHA!!"
Karen had resumed, not bothering to count, just digging in cruelly,
relentlessly, endlessly, never letting him stop laughing. "For that nasty word,
you'll get twenty full minutes, with no pauses. When I next allow you to speak,
I'll expect a humble apology for your remarks, a _very_ humble apology, and I'll
expect thanks for the pause. If I am not satified that you're really sorry, then
you'll get forty minutes."
She had never stopped tickling during this threat, and she continued with grim
determination. To Jay it seemed like hours. It seemed endless. The universe
contracted. There was no world outside. There was only this basement, his ribs,
his agonized laughter, getting weaker all the time, his wrists and ankles,
hurting from futile pulling, his aching lungs, and Karen's fingers. Karen's
strong fingers, alwasys moving, always poking, always seeking sensitive spots,
always remembering the best spots to poke, never resting, never stopping,
tickling him without respite. Karen's deft fingers, seeking to drive him mad,
seeking to drive him out of his mind with tickle-torture, and succeeding.
Although it seem like forever to Jay, Karen was a woman of her word, and she did
stop after twenty minutes. Jay kept laughing and trembling for a while after she
stopped. Then he lay still, gasping to recover his wind. When Karen tapped her
foot with impatience, he spoke.
"I am most humbly sorry for having used that word. I am ever so sorry. I do
apologize, ever so much. Please forgive me! But, please, _please_, PLEASE don't
tickle me any more! I just can't take it any more."
Karen sneered at him. "What a baby! Of course you can take it, you have no
choice. I will accept your apology. But stop? I have hardly even _begun_ to
tickle you, you ticklish little baby! Hardly begun! And you haven't thanked me
for this pause." She scowled at him, with menace in her eyes, again tapping her
foot with impatience. Her big blue eyes reminded him of a Siamese cat,
contemplating its dinner.
Noting with dismay that he had been demoted again, from boy to baby, Jay forced
himself to thank her. "I _do_ thank you, ever so much, for allowing me this time
to recover. It is so kind of you, and I am grateful. But, umm, Karen, I really
need to go to the bathroom now, so you just have to untie me."
Jay's erection was gone, and he honestly did have to urinate, urgently. "I
suppose you actually need to pee, but you're not going anywhere. Not for a long
time. I have an empty milk carton here for you."
Karen reached under the bench, and came up with the promised container. "And
another thing. You're not my boyfriend any more, and 'Karen' is too familiar."
On the word 'familiar,' she she put his penis into the milk carton, and smiled.
"From now on, call me 'Ms. Fletcher.' That shows more respect. I'll keep you
aimed here, and the carton tilted down. You may go ahead."
It was very humiliating, but Jay managed to urinate into the carton with Karen
holding his member. He then heard her washing her hands in the basement's
bathroom. She returned to regard his helpless form.
"Now I'm going to start on your armpits. I know that they're even more ticklish
than your ribs, and twenty minutes at a time would likely make you faint. I
don't want that--I want you conscious, and experiencing every second of the
tickle-torture. See how kind I can be? So you'll get five minutes of tickling in
the armpits, followed by one minute to rest. We'll call that one round. Just one
thing, baby. Those rounds, of five minutes of armpit-tickling, followed by a
minute to rest? You're about to get fifteen of them! 15 rounds. That's the same
length as a soccer game, so I'm sure that _I_ have the stamina to get through
it." She glanced at the clock.
"Oh, God, no, please, I'll die, I--HaHAHAHAHHAHHA!!"
His armpits really were his most senisitive spots for tickling, and she know
exactly where and how to poke him for the best reactions. In the past, he had
always been able to fight her off, and never had endured more than a few
seconds. He had always been able to pull away, grab her wrists, or even kick, if
he had to. Now he was utterly helpless, and she was enjoying having him at her
mercy. She was taking full advantage.
Once again, it seemed like forever. He tried to keep track of the rounds, but
lost count. He only knew that his ankles and wrists hurt from pulling, his
throat hurt from laughing, his diaphram ached, his eyes were streaming with
tears, and his armpits were sore. Karen's firm fingers were at work, never
resting, never pausing, never giving him a moment's peace. It was a good thing
that his bladder was empty, or he would have lost control. During the one minute
pauses, she taunted him.
"Who's a little, ticklish baby? You are! Who's a helpless, very, _very_ ticklish
baby boy? You! And you'll stay this way, all day long. Just think of the fun I'm
having! And I haven't even touched your feet yet. Just think of how much more
you've got to suffer, baby!"
At long last, the fifteen rounds were done. Jay didn't even realize it for a
while, just lying there waiting for the next round to start. But Karen didn't
resume digging into his armpits. Instead, she kissed him on the forehead, the
way an older sister would kiss her baby brother.
"You look quite winded. It's time for lunch now, for me at least. I'm going
upstairs for a sandwhich and a soda. If you grovel for me now, very, very
humbly, I might bring down some food for you."
"Oh, please," said Jay in a weak voice, through his now sore throat, "please,
dear, kind Ms. Fletcher, most beautiful of all women on earth! Please, please
let me go now. Haven't you punished me enough? I will be eternally grateful, if
only you let me go."
Jay had an idea. Karen had always liked his motorcycle.
"Please let me go. I'll give you my motorcycle! Just please don't tickle me
anymore."
Karen laughed at him. "Not a chance, baby! You've got a very
_long_ way to go. And don't think that your feet are the only place I haven't
explored yet. I've got lots of places in mind to try."
She took a small artist's brush from under the bench, suitable for acrylic or
water color, put it in his left nostril, and twirled it.
Jay shrieked, and jerked in his bonds.
"Very sensitive in the nose, are you? I'll be sure to explore it, and your ears,
and behind your knees, and other places, after I'm done with your feet and toes.
Consider yourself lucky that I am taking a break for lunch. Since you didn't ask
for any food, you're not getting any. I will bring you some water. You've been
sweating, and I don't want you to get dehydrated." Jay groaned, and watched her
gorgeous legs as she climbed the stairs.
Saturday, 1pm
--------------
Karen came down from lunch, and let Jay drink water through a straw. "Let me
know when you need to pee. I don't want you to stain the bench, it would make me
most upset." She pulled a stool over to a perfect position to get at his feet,
and and brought over a large briefcase. She showed him a few of the items in it:
More artist's brushes of different sizes, some toothbrushes, some basting
brushes, a feather duster, two straw brooms, and a plastic object that Jay
recognized as the tongue-scraper that Karen had gotten from her oral hygenist.
She set to work with gusto. Jay was clearly going nuts, but he was not laughing
as hard as he had when she attacked his armpits or ribs. So Karen saw no reason
to give him any pauses, none at all.
She experimented eagerly, and discovered that different implements worked best
on different parts of his feet. The toothbrushes were best for his arches and
heels. The tongue-scraper was great for long strokes, the whole length of his
soles. Between his toes, the basting brushes were best, driving him mad, making
him squeal like a piglet. One the bottoms of his toes, the straw brooms were
most effective. She took one in each hand, and stroked across the bottoms of all
his helpless and immobilized toes, over and over again. She crooned at him, as
she stroked across his toe pads.
"Has my little baby got very ticklish toes? Oh, yes, he sure does. Very, very
ticklish. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Do you want me to stop? Do you? I'm not going
to. I'm never going to stop. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Poor baby, poor baby. Can't
move your toes at all, can you? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Poor little ticklish
baby! I may never stop!"
Jay finally did get her to stop, by screaming that he had to urinate. But she
started right up again. She discovered that her fingernails were better than any
of the implements for the balls of his feet. She could make him strain against
his bonds and howl by digging her nails into the ball of either foot, and
scratching. So she did, over, and over, and over again. Jay was red in the face,
gasping and laughing at the same time, utterly exhausted, and totally out of his
mind when she finally did stop.
"I bet you thought that was endless, but it was just one hour on your feet. Just
an hour! And I have so much time left. Poor baby." She moved another stool to
the end of the bench where his head rested. She sat, holding an artist's brush
in each hand.
"Now to do your ears, nose, and neck. Then I'll try the backs of your knees, the
crooks of your elbows, your belly, and your navel. This shouldn't be as
strenuous as your armpits, so you will get no pauses, none. About the same as
your feet, one hour. I hope you enjoy it, because when the hour is done--" She
paused and looked him in the eyes again.
"When the hour is done, I'll go back to your armpits."
Jay appeared to be gathering the strength to speak. Karen cut him off as ge
cleared his throat.
"Not one word! Not a single word from you. I'll order you to speak when I want
to hear from you. Until then, laughter is the only thing allowed to come out of
your mouth. Understand?"
Jay nodded, not uttering a word. Karen did just as she said, using the small
brushes in all of the places she had mentioned,
as he wriggled, laughed, squirmed, and squealed. As promised, she
stopped after an hour.
Part Two
Saturday, 3pm
--------------
Jay wriggled and giggled for a while, after Karen had stopped. When she got up
and positioned herself to get at his armpits again, he forgot himself and spoke.
"PLEASE not the armpits again. Oh please, if you ever cared for me, Ms.
Fletcher, let me go now. I--" Jay stopped as he remembered that he was not
allowed to talk.
Karen smiled at him, but it was the again the smile of a cat contemplating
dinner. "I am going to keep my promise not to hurt you, baby, but you _do_ get
punished for speaking."
Jay's heart sank as Karen went upstairs again, and returned in a few minutes
with a shopping bag. "First, I need to make sure that you don't speak again,
until I order you to. So I brought some things to gag you." She pulled a dirty
white sock out of the bag. Its sole was stained with sweat, and soiled with
dirt.
"I wore this at soccer practice on Thursday," she said. "Now open wide, stick
out your tongue, and don't resist, or you will deeply regret it."
Jay knew better than to disobey again, and did as ordered. She wrapped the sole
of the sock around his tongue, shoved it all into his mouth, and closed his jaw.
She took a scarf out of the bag, and tied it tightly around his head, so that it
pressed between his lips, and kept the sock securely in his mouth.
"Now, I've had enough of you staring at my legs. So you get a blindfold." She
put a black sleeping mask over his eys, and tied a black wool muffler over that.
"Where was I? Oh, yes, your armpits. You've wasted so much time, making me go
upstairs, and spend time gagging you--my foot sweat tastes good, I hope?--that
it will be nearly five o'clock by the time I've given you another fifteen rounds
of armpit tickling. You do recall that each round is five minutes of tickling,
and a minute of rest. I don't want you to faint, the rest is so that you stay
awake, and suffer every last moment of the tickling."
Jay groaned into the sock gag, as Karen put plugs in his ears, and then heavy
earmuffs over the plugs. Deprived of speech, sight, and hearing, Jay was left to
concentrate on the senses of taste and touch.
The new 90-minute tickle torture of his armpits was much worse than the first.
He was already exhausted, already sore, and his ankles and wrists already
chafed. The sweat-stained sock tasted just awful, all sour and gritty with dirt.
He didn't even try to count the rounds, just endured sheer hell. The tickling
was merciless, relentless, unbearable, except that he had no choice but to bear
it. He squirmed and howled into his gag, strained against his bonds, and wished
he could faint. Karen's fingers became, again, the only thing in the universe
besides his suffering body. They drove him mad, endlessly, round after round.
Only one aspect was better. Not able to hear, he couldn't hear Karen tauting
him, calling him her ticklish little baby.
Karen stopped after the fifteenth round, even though she felt like continuing
for another hour or so. She was proud of her reputation for honesty, and always
kept her word.
She waited until Jay stopped wriggling, and removed the earmuffs, earplugs, and
scarf. She went to the bathroom to refill Jay's water glass. She was pleased,
when she returned, to note that he had not spit out the sock.
"Good. You're learning. I'm in charge here, and the sock stays in until I want
to remove it. I will now, and let you drink."
She left him blindfolded as he drank. He knew better than to speak. "Now, I want
two things from you. _Not_ your motorcycle. If you give me what I want, then I
promise you this, and listen very carefully: I promise not to tickle you again,
not today, not ever.
Understand?"
Jay nodded, and, for the first time all day, saw a glimmer of hope.
"First, I want you to tell me why you were not really attracted to the six women
that you firted with at the party. Be specific. Tell me what's unattractive
about each of them. If you don't manage to convince me that each one is utterly
unattractive to you, then you will get not 15, but 30 more rounds of armpit
tickling. Got me? Begin with Alice. You may speak."
Jay gulped. Alice was a pretty 19-year-old with a face like an angel, and cute
cupcake breasts. "Her boobs are too small. She looks like a boy."
"OK, I'll accept that, given how often you've praised my breasts. But you must,
then, have found Wendy very attractive. She wears size 38D."
"No, she's not attractive at all." Jay was thinking desparately. Wendy was, in
fact, prettier than Karen. He did think of something. "It's because of her
piercings! She has too many. Looking at all the metal in her face and body makes
me ill."
"Well, I'll accept that, but just barely. You weren't quick enough, and I'm not
sure I believe it. So you're on thin ice, baby. Be quick about the rest of them.
What's wrong with Tracy?"
"Too fat!" Jay said immediately. Tracy was perhaps five pounds above ideal
weight, but to Karen, a star athete, it would seem true, he hoped. "I get sick
looking at that fat sow!"
"Then you really must like Tiffany's body, she weighs only 95 pounds."
Jay was ready. "Even smaller breasts than Alice. Tiff looks like a _young_ boy.
I could never get it up for her." Actually, he thought that the petite, African
American Tiffany was quite sexy. The youngest of the women, at 18, she was
indeed the object of his
lustful thoughts.
"But you found Kim quite pretty, didn't you?"
"Not after she spoke," said Jay instantly. "She's so dumb!
I could never be attracted to a moron like her." It was true that Kim got by
with C's in an easy major, but it was also true that he lusted after her as
well.
Karen paused. They both knew that Zoe, the sixth woman in question, was the most
beautiful and most intelligent in the whole sorority. "You have to be attracted
to Zoe."
Jay knew that to disparage Zoe would not be believed. But he had had time to
think, and was ready. "Most men would, I grant that, but not me. I just never
liked red hair. Her long, flowing, bright red hair just turns me off. She's
really proud of it, but it makes me ill."
"Very clever," said Karen. "So, you've succeeded in my first requirement. Too
bad, really, I was looking forward to getting at your armpits yet again. But I
do always keep my promises. And the second thing that I want will be very easy
for you. I'm going to take out a cassette recorder, and make a statement. When
I'm done, you just make the corresponding statement."
Jay heard the rustle of the shopping bag, and the click of a recorder. "I am
Karen Fletcher. My boyfriend, Jay Lamb, and I are going to engage in consentual
bondage, for our own pleasure. I am making this recording for his protection, so
it is on record that I agree to this activity."
Karen tapped the microphone on Jay's chin, and he responded.
"I am Jay Lamb. My girlfriend, Karen Fletcher, and I are going to engage in
consentual bondage, for our own pleasure. I am making this recording for her
protection, so it is on record that I agree to this activity." Jay's heart sank.
Any thought of going to the Dean of Students after he was free vanished. After
all, there were perhaps some bruises on his wrists and ankles, nothing more.
With the tape, Karen had a perfect defense against any charge he might make. He
would only look like a fool.
With a click, the tape stopped. Karen called out, "Come forward."
Jay heard many footsteps. He became scared again, and began to tremble. "Oh,
that's right, you didn't know that we have company down here. They've been here
for some time now, listening to every word you said. They came down while you
had the earplugs in, and the earmuffs on, so you did hear them. I do believe
that you know them all."
Karen removed the muffler, and the sleeping mask. It took a while for Jay's eyes
to adjust to the light. What he saw froze his heart: Pulling up stools and
surrounding him now were Alice, Wendy, Tracy, Tiffany, Kim, and Zoe. They all
wore only underpants, and Karen had taken off her bikini top, but somehow that
did not get him excited.
Saturday, 5:30pm
----------------
Karen was smiling broadly. "I promised not to tickle you, ever again, and you
did give me the two things that I asked for. So I will keep my promise. But you
didn't listen carefully enough. I did _not_ promise to unbind you. So there you
are, quite helpless."
All seven of them were grinning at Jay with sadistic glee.
"My six sorority sisters here have made you no promises at all. And I do believe
that they are somewhat peeved at you."
Jay kept trembling, and began to cry softly. "Oh, baby, you don't have to cry!
It's not as bad as all that. I have made them promise _me_ not to leave any
marks on you. Mostly, they're just going to _tickle_ you, nothing more. And I'll
get to watch."
Jay had stopped crying, but was shaking uncontrollably in his bonds. Alice and
Wendy each sat near one of his feet. They examined the variety of implements
available. Tracy and Tiffany sat on opposite sides of the bench, near his waist.
They could reach his knees, thighs, and lower ribs. Kim and Zoe sat near each of
his armpits, also in reach of his upper ribs, neck, ears, and nose.
"Once again," Karen said to Jay, "the only thing allowed out of your mouth is
laughter. _Not_ _one_ _word_."
She addressed the women. "When I say 'start,' go to work on him. Don't stop
until I say 'pause.' The first round will be ten minutes. OK, ... start!"
It was much, much worse than Jay had feared. Alice rubbed a
toothbrush, over and over again, across his left arch. With her other hand, she
worked a basting brush between his toes. Wendy scratched the ball of his right
foot with her nails, endlessly scraping away. With her other hand, she tickled
the bottoms of his toes with a straw broom. Apparently, Karen had shared her
knowledge of what worked best, while he could not hear.
Tracy dug into his short ribs with one hand, and tickled his left thigh with the
other. Tiffany twirled the feather duster in his navel, and dug into his right
rib cage with her other hand.
Kim kept poking his left armpit, and also drew patterns in his left ear with an
artist's brush. Zoe dug into his right armpit with great enthusiasm, and also
into his upper ribs with her other hand.
As they all worked with zeal and righteous indignation at the insults he had
given them, Jay went completely crazy. Totally overloaded, out of control, with
no escape, he suffered and suffered, wondering why he had not fainted, and
enduring the agony of 12 hands that never paused in tickling him. He prayed for
the ten minutes to end, and wriggled helplessly, laughing and crying at the same
time.
Being the center of attention of seven beautiful women seemed to bring him no
joy.
Karen kept an eye on the clock, and cooed at Jay. "Poor, poor baby! Poor
ticklish little baby. Does it tickle you? Does it?
Tickle, tickle, tickle. Only three minutes until your pause. Tickle, tickle,
tickle. Can you take it? We have _all_ evening ahead of us. The six of them ate
an early dinner. Tickle, tickle, tickle. It will go on and on."
Finally he heard "Pause." Knowing better than to speak, and having no breath
anyway, Jay pleaded to Karen with his eyes. Karen was not moved. "The pause will
be 45 seconds only. That's all he gets. Is another round of ten in order? No,
let's see if he can stand 15 minutes without fainting. Yes, 15. Ok, get ready.
Now ... start!"
All six went back to work on him. They traded information on what tickling
techniques worked best. They discussed his ticklish spots with clinical
detachment, but they never let their talk stop them from using both hands to
tickle him, at all times. Zoe had found the perfect spot in his armpit to poke,
and the perfect rhythm to do it. She explained it to Kim, and now both were
relentless, utterly ruthless. Jay had no energy left, was not wriggling any
more, just lying helpless, and laughing soundlessly, with an aching diaphram. He
was just about to loose consciousness, when he heard Karen speak.
"Pause. Let's give him a pee break, he almost fainted on us." Karen got the milk
carton, and it was humiliating to use it with them all watching. She gave him
some orange juice to drink through a straw, remarking that he needed to keep his
strength up. They all changed positions with each other, to get at different
parts of his body. Karen gave them the signal, and it all started again.
Jay was in tickle-torture hell, and he had no choice but to endure it. He lost
track of rounds, of them changing places, and he barely even noticed when one of
them went to the bathroom, and only ten hands were tickling him. Karen seemed to
know just when he was about to pass out, and kept him from it. Every minute of
his torture seemed like an eternity, and it went on and on.
During one pause, Karen gave him more juice, and told him that he was allowed to
speak, but only ten words. He gathered strength, and spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"I most humbly beg for mercy. Please have mercy. Mercy."
This was a major mistake. It only inflamed them more, gave them new energy, and
they reminded him of his terrible insults.
"Is a stupid moron supposed to understand the word 'mercy'?"
"I'm too fat to give mercy."
"My breasts are too small to contain any mercy."
"Mine are even smaller, and contain less than none."
"I've got too many ear studs to even hear you."
"Didn't you know that redheads are are prone to be cruel, and that we never show
mercy?"
They went back at him with great vigor, and persuaded Karen to make all of the
rounds fifteen minutes long. Jay was soon in a state of weakness, unable to pull
on his bonds, unable to laugh out loud, only able to lie there and suffer. He
was reduced to a helpless blob of quivering, sensitive flesh, tickled without
any mercy all through the evening, and into the night. He suffered, and feebly
quivered, and listened to Karen's taunts. The women reveled in keeping him in
this state, round after round, hour after hour.
Saturday, 11pm
--------------
Jay could feel something new. Somebody was rubbing ice on his nipples! They had
put a blindfold back on him some time ago, and he had also been gagged again,
with Karen's other dirty sock from Thursday's practice. The other six had
laughed at him, as Karen repeated the procedure as before. Zoe said that she had
some _really_ sweat-soaked socks from her jogging, and would supply them if Karen
wanted, the next time they wanted to gag him.
The ice made him jerk in his bonds again, and then they all resumed tickling
him. He could tell that it was Zoe working on his right foot now, by the texture
of her nails. Amazing that, in the midst of his agony, that he could discern
this. As usual, just when he thought he would faint, they stopped at Karen's
signal.
"The ice seemed to revive him. Let's keep some down here. I'll get more, but
it's time for you all to ... start!"
When Karen came back with an ice bucket, she made him a promise. "In a few
hours, at 2am, I promise that we'll let you sleep." This time, Jay had listened
carefully. He recognized that 'let you sleep' was not the same as 'let you go
free.'
Sunday, 1:45am
--------------
"Stop! We're done for the day, sisters!" Karen's voice had never sounded so
beautiful to Jay.
"It's only a quarter to two. Time enough for one more round!"
"It will take a little while to get him ready to sleep. You know the rule: a
full eight hours of sleep, we never skimp on that. We want him rested for the
morning." She took off the blindfold, and warned him, "I'm about to remove your
gag. You'll be allowed to speak, but just five words. And not until I tell you."
Karen removed the scarf, and the saliva-drenched sock, and threw them on the
floor. Zoe came over with juice for him to drink through a straw. Wendy came
with an adult size diaper. It took a while to get it on him, immobile as he was.
Karen said, "Now you may speak."
Jay could only whimper, "Haven't I been punished enough?"
Karen laughed. "A contraction counts as two words, but I'll let it go this time.
You called Kim dumb, but you _still_ haven't figured it out yet, have you?
You're the moron. I'll let Kim explain it to you, and I'm sure she'll use small
words, so you can understand what's going on here."
Kim grinned at him. "We're not doing this to punish you, stupid. We're doing it
because we enjoy it, baby! We enjoy it enormously. We love tickling helpless
men. Did it never occur to you that the name of our sorority is Tau Kappa
Lambda? The the Greek equivalent of T, K, L. Tickle." Jay gasped, but knew
better than to speak.
"Karen outgrew you as a boyfriend, and would have dumped you six months ago, but
she wanted to be an officer at Tau Kappa Lambda. To do that, you have to supply
the sorority with a tickle-toy. That's you, baby! You were set up at that party.
Each of us came up and teased you, until you flirted back. And we kept
re-filling your drinks. Wendy practically had to pull your hand inside her top.
Karen only pretended to be angry, and was quite amused by all your pleading
letters and e-mails. I'll let her explain why this Friday night was the best
time to spring the trap, and capture you."
Karen came close to him, and once again grinned like a cat who had a mouse well
trapped. "You were so happy to have a class schedule with only Monday-Thursday
courses this semester. Squeezing
all your classes into two days a week. And this is a holiday weekend, with
Columbus day on Monday. So all your classes don't meet again until _Thursday_."
Jay began to tremble again.
"Even better, baby, instructors won't report you for just missing one class. And
you're going to miss all of yours on Thursday. We intend to keep you until a
week from Monday morning."
Jay was shaking uncontrollably now, and crying again. Still, he knew better than
to speak.
"That's eight more long, _long_ days of tickle-torture. Poor baby, I _do_ feel
sorry for you. You should feel sorry for me, too,
though. I will keep my promise, and never tickle you again. But I will get to
watch, and ochestrate the pauses, and, of course, taunt you whenever the mood
strikes me." Jay was sobbing now, without restraint. Kim wiped his nose for him.
Karen came closer to him, leaning over his face, and staring right into his
eyes. "The six women here are really pissed off at the way you described them,
so they will be your principal ticklers. But they do have classes themselves,
and other things to do. Don't worry, though, you won't lack for all of the
attention that you so richly deserve. We have over 60 women in this sorority,
and there is a sign-up sheet upstairs." Jay continued to sob, and Kim kept
wiping his nose, quite tenderly.
Karen chuckled. "I can guarantee that we will have you covered, six ticklers at
all times, with three alternates right here in the basement, ready to take over
at a moment's notice. For when somebody needs to go to the bathroom, or answer a
phone call, or just gets tired fingers. We'll _never_ stop your tickle-torture,
just enough pauses to keep you conscious. It will just go on, and on, and on.
Poor baby!"
Zoe spoke up now. "Tau Kappa Lambda has been doing this since we were founded,
over forty years ago. The sorority records give us good advice, on how much a
healthy college boy can take. That's where the rule comes from, about never
skimping on sleep. Tomorrow, we'll begin taking video tapes of you, for the
archives. Also, an alumna who is a physician will come by to check your heart.
Can't be too careful."
Karen finished the explanation for him, staring right into his eyes again. "So
then. Eight hours of sleep per night, and about an hour each day to feed you. No
need to take you to the bathroom, or use a bed pan. We'll keep you in diapers,
baby! One of the 18-year-old pledges can change you, while you're still being
tickled. And you'll get a sponge bath each day, also while being tickled. It will
be about fifteen hours per day of relentless tickle-torture, every day, until a
week from Monday morning! How does that sound, baby? You really _are_ very,
very ticklish. And we'll take full advantage, for eight more days. Every minute will
seem like eternity to you, baby!"
Karen bent down, and once again kissed him, very tenderly, on the forehead.
"Sleep tight, my little baby boy. Sweet dreams, my dear little tickle-toy."
The End
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