Help for Bobby (F/m)

This is an F/m story, with additional elements of foot-worship and spanking. If that is not to your liking, don't read it. All of the characters in this story are 18 years old or older.

Help for Bobby (F/m)
by Milagros

Part One
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Monday, September 23, 2002
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Bob was depressed as he left the library of Woodrow College. The weather was fine, his classes were all going well, and the campus, in rural Pennsylvania, was beautiful. Three weeks into his college career, what depressed him was simple: Lack of social life. He just didn't have the knack of making friends, or getting young women to have any interest in him. There were plenty of women on campus of his age, 18, but they sized him up on sight as a short, unathletic, skinny guy. Absent his being a genius or a rock star, neither of which he was, they were polite to him, but entirely uninterested in getting to know him.

"Why so sad, Bobby?"

Bob looked up in surprise. It was his cousin, Kristine, towering over him, on her way into the library. At 5'11", she did stand four inches taller than Bob, and she was a junior at Woodrow, majoring in history. This was only the second time he had seen her on campus. Before arriving at college, he hadn't seen her since 1997, when Bob and his parents had moved from Ohio to California for his dad's new job. Her parents still lived in Cleveland.

"I didn't realize that it showed. I am depressed. If you really want to know why, Kris, I'm finding it hard to meet women. I mean socially. I just don't get any attention from women."

"It can be hard, being so far from home, and going to those ghastly events for first year students, where there are too many people. I think I can help you, Bobby. You know that I live in a house, off campus?"

"Sure. A lot of students take advantage of the cheap rental market out there. I heard that you share a house with five other women."

"Four, actually. We have a vacant bedroom, since Louise didn't come back to Woodrow. My suggestion is that you come to dinner to our house on Thursday. Only two of my housemates are first year students, and I certainly can't promise that either of them will be romantically interested in you, but a small group at dinner is a way to get to know people, and make friends. That's a beginning."

"Thanks, Kris, that's very kind of you. I'll need a ride, though. I don't have a car here."

"I'll give you a ride myself. We're about 12 miles south of campus. Meet me in Parking Lot C at 5pm on Thursday."

"Great. I'll bring a bottle of wine."

"Don't get yourself in trouble, Bobby. You could get a senior in your dorm to buy wine for you, but getting caught with it on campus would be a disaster for you. Just bring a chocolate cake, that's my favorite dessert. The more chocolate, the better."

"Sure, Kris. And thanks again for helping me. See you on Thursday." Bob smiled at his beautiful cousin, and then went back to his dorm.

Thursday, September 26, 2002
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Bobby arrived a few minutes early, with a cake. He had gotten a chocolate cake, with chocolate cream between the layers, and chocolate icing. He hoped that Kristine would like it. Kris arrived on time, and soon she was driving them to her house.

"One of my housemates knows who you are," said Kris. "When I told them we had a guest coming, my cousin, and I told them your name, she said that you're in her English class, the Monday-Wednesday section with Dr. Fox."

"What's her name?" asked Bob, hoping it was one of the attractive women in that class, and, preferably, also shorter than him.

"Cynthia Lee," said Kris, "and you must know who she is, even if you don't recognize her name, because she's the only Asian woman in that class."

"Sure," said Bob, and he smiled. Cynthia was a stunningly beautiful young woman, from Chicago, she had said in class. At about 5'6", she _was_ an inch shorter than him. He had noticed her in class, but hadn't gotten up the courage to speak to her yet. He had stared at her lovely feet, on the days when she wore sandals. About size 6, he guessed, with high arches, cute rounded heels, and exquisite unblemished toes. He was hoping that she would be wearing sandals at dinner.

As they got into what had been farm country, there were fewer houses. Kris pulled into a long driveway, and they reached a house that had obviously beeen expanded several times--Bob could tell by the different styles of construction, none of them new.

They went inside, and Bob saw that cheese, crackers, and wine were already out in the living room, and all four of Kris' housemates were sitting there.

"Hey, everybody," said Kris, "this is my cousin Bobby. He's a first year student, and I want you all to welcome him."

She paused while they all said hello to Bob, and then she introduced them to him.

"You already met Cynthia in English class."

Cynthia waved at him and smiled. She was in a Woodrow T-shirt and blue jeans, and she was barefoot. Bob smiled back warmly.

"Jen is also a first year student, and Barb helped the basketball coach to recruit her," said Kris.

Jennifer, about 5'11" in her bare feet, with blonde hair, spoke to him.

"Hi, I've seen you at orientation, but it was a mob scene, so we never met."

"Glad to meet you," said Bob, although he felt a little intimidated when she got up, came over to him, and crushed his hand in a powerful handshake.

"She's too modest to tell you she was First Team on the Michigan All-State Women's High School Basketball Team last year," said Barbara.

Bob noticed that Barbara was the tallest of them, at 6' in her bare feet, when she got up and shook his hand also. She had red hair, green eyes, and freckles. He realized that he had seen her picture on the sports page of the Woodrow student newspaper when he had visited campus last spring, as a prospective student.

"You're Murphy, the star of the basketball team, I've seen your picture," said Bob, "from the game where you scored 37 points."

"Sweet of you to remember," she said, stroking his cheek, before sitting back down.

Kris completed the introductions, by saying, "And this is Shari, she's a senior, and was able to buy this wine for us with her own ID."

"Please sit down, and have a glass," said Shari, "it's a nice Merlot, grown not too far from where I grew up, in Oregon."

She poured a glass of wine for Bob, and then one for herself, and sat down next to Kris on the couch. She kicked off her loafers, and rubbed her bare feet on the carpet. Kris kicked off her clogs, and now all five women were barefoot. Bob thought that he had died and gone to heaven.

"Thank you all for having me over for dinner," he said. "I'm without a car, and it's really nice to have a trip off campus."

--------------------------------------------

At 6:30pm, they all went into the dining room. As dinner progressed, Bob found himself relaxing and enjoying the conversation. He and Cynthia had an interest in common--baseball. Growning up in Wilmette, a suburb north of Chicago, she was one of the long-suffering Cubs fans.

For dessert, they went back into the living room and held plates of the cake that Bob had brought on their laps. Eveybody thanked him for the cake. He was glad to see all of their feet again, which had been out of sight under the table during dinner.

Jennifer picked up a conversational thread from dinner.

"So you really never saw each other for five years? I'm a lot closer to my first cousins than that."

"That's right," said Kris. "I guess we saw each other nearly every weekend living half a mile apart in Cleveland. But when my Uncle Mike moved to LA for his new job, they never came back to visit. Not even for Christmas. And they never invited us to come visit them. So I hadn't seen Bobby since he was 13, five years ago."

"And you're even more beautiful now, Kris," said Bob.

"Thank you, flattery is always welcome. Some things about you haven't changed, Bobby. You're still very sweet, still cute, but a bit skinny, and ...," she paused, "... you're still always staring at my feet, whenever I go barefooted."

The women all laughed. Bob would normally have been embarrassed and nervous at such a comment, but three glasses of wine gave him courage.

"Why not," he said, "when you have such lovely feet."

"Whose are the prettiest?" asked Barbara.

All five women held their feet up off the floor for him to get a good look. Cynthia wriggled her toes at him, as did Barbara.

"Oh, no," said Bob, "didn't Paris get into trouble by judging the beauty of three goddesses? The two he didn't pick were furious at him."

"Don't worry, cousin," said Kris, "nobody here will be mad at you. We _do_ want to hear the honest opinion of a man who, well, appreciates women's feet. Just tell us whose you like best."

"Well, first I have to say that you _all_ have very lovely feet, but if I had to choose, I'd pick Cynthia's."

Cynthia smiled, and the other four seemed to take it in good spirit. They all congratulated her. Then Kris spoke to him.

"Just one thing, Bobby. It doesn't seem fair that we're all barefooted, and you have socks and sneakers on."

As Kris got up and came towards him, Bob motioned her away, and began to unlace his sneakers.

"I don't need any help. I can take them off myself."

As he finished taking off his socks, and putting them carefully inside his sneakers, Kris sat back down. Then she spoke again.

"Bobby seemed a little bit nervous at the thought of my taking off his footwear. I'll just bet that there's something else about him that hasn't changed. Oh, yes. I'll just bet that my little cousin is still ...," and she paused for about five seconds, as Bob squirmed in his chair, "... _extremely_ _ticklish_. Are you, Bobby?"

Bob didn't answer, but he put his arms down to protecct his sides, and moved his feet back under his chair.

"Come on, Bobby, give us an answer," said Barbara. "Kris remembers you as an extremely ticklish 13-year-old boy. Are you still, or have you outgrown it?"

None of the women made a move from her seat, but Bob began to tremble in his chair.

"Don't. Please don't. I hate it--Kris knows that. I just can't stand it. _Please_ don't."

Cynthia smiled sweetly at him. "Don't? Nobody has said anything about _doing_ anything to you, Bobby. Why are you trembling? You have no reason to be afraid. Your cousin just asked you a question. It would be polite of you to answer her."

Bob tried to smile. "You're right, I don't want to be rude. I apologize for not answering immediately. Yes, Kris, I am still ticklish, extremely ticklish."

Kris grinned, enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse.

"Where, Bobby?" she asked.

"You already know where--you've tickled me often enough," he said, with a tremor in his voice.

"It was five years ago, so I may have forgotten. And my housemates want to know."

Kris and Jen got up, and circled behind Bob's chair. They just stood there, not touching him. Shari and Barbara got up, and sat on the floor, right in front of Bob's knees. They just sat there, not touching him either. Bob was trembling even more than before, his arms tightly pressed against his sides, and his feet shoved back under the chair, as far as he could move them.

Cynthia remained seated, and took over the questioning.

"Face it, Bobby. You're in a tough situation. If you're _very_ honest, and _very_ polite, and give us _very_ detailed answers, then we may go easy on you. Your cousin asked you a question, and I'll repeat it for you. Where are you ticklish, Bobby? First, tell us where it drives you insane, your very worst spots. Be specific."

Bob licked his lips. "That would be my feet, my underarms, and my collarbone area. I can't bear to be tickled in any of those areas, it does drive me insane."

Cynthia smiled with satisfaction, and said, "Very good, Bobby, that was specific, and you're being cooperative and polite. Second part of the question, where are you very ticklish, but not as bad as your worst spots?"

"That would be my ribs, my belly, behind my knees, and my neck," said Bob, in a very sad voice.

"Good," said Cynthia, "you're still being specific and cooperative. And finally, we want to know where you are somewhat ticklish."

"That would be everywhere else, actually. All of my skin is at least slightly ticklish. Everywhere I haven't mentioned already, from my scalp to my ankles."

"Thank you, Bobby, that was very frank and honest. You have been quite detailed in your answers," said Cynthia, "and you really are very sweet."

Then she addressed the other women, with a hungry gleam in her eyes. "So, should we go easy on him?"

"No way!" said Barbara and Shari, at the same time. Then they laughed at their simultaneous identical reactions.

"Let Kris decide, she's his cousin," said Jen, eyes also gleaming with tickle-lust.

"I'm so glad to hear that Bobby is still extremely ticklish," said Kris. "So very glad to hear it. And there is really only one choice possible--to get him good. To tickle him more than he's _ever_ been tickled before. To get him really, really good. Let's do it!"

[to be continued in this thread]

Help for Bobby (F/m) Part Two

Part Two
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Kris and Jen, right behind his chair, pulled off his shirt and undershirt, and then grabbed his arms, lifting him slightly off the seat of the chair. Barbara and Shari unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants off, leaving him in just his white cotton briefs. They each grabbed a leg, and the four of them carried him off of the chair, and dumped him on the rug. Each woman sat on the limb that she had been holding.

Kris and Jen dug into his underarms, and Barbara and Shari each tickled one of his soles with their nails.

Bob was just able to scream, "No! Please _don't_!" before he dissolved into uncontrolled laughter, and was unable to speak. Cynthia came over, and straddled his chest. She dug her nails into both of his collarbones. With a big grin on her face, she began to taunt him.

"Poor little Bobby, so very ticklish, and we're getting all of your worst spots, all at the same time. Tickle, tickle, tickle. I was in favor of going easy on you, but the other four all seemed to want to get you good. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle. So I guess I'll just join the fun. Tickle, tickle, tickle. And it _is_ fun, I can tell you that. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Oh, my, you really are going crazy, aren't you? Poor Bobby-poo! Tickle, tickle, tickle. I did notice you staring at my feet, whenever I wore sandals to class. Women do notice these things, you know. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle. You're laughing much too hard to even think about our feet now, aren't you? Poor baby. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Oh, your face has turned red, and you're laughing so hard that you're crying. Tickle, tickle, tickle. How amusing. Poor Bobby-poo, so very, very ticklish."

"Don't let up," said Kris. "Don't let up for even one moment. I never had a chance to get him this good when we were kids. I never had him this helpless."

"Don't worry," said Shari, "he's not going to get a rest unless you say so. Tickle, tickle, tickle, little Bobby-poo. You're in for it now, baby. Tickled insane, until your cousin tells us to pause."

Tears were still flowing down Bob's cheeks, but he no longer had enough breath to laugh out loud. Nor did he have the strength to struggle much any longer. He just quivered under their fingers, lost in the timeless hell of tickle-torture, with every minute seeming like an eternity. At 8:30pm, when they had been tickling him for 45 minutes, he fainted.

"Should I get some water to splash on him?" asked Cynthia as she got up.

"No," said Barbara, "I'm tired of sitting on his skinny leg. Go to my room, and bring back half a dozen pairs of stockings from my bottom drawer."

Bob woke up while Cynthia was upstairs, and pleaded for release.

"Please let me go now, you've all had your fun. Please! I really need to go to the bathroom now. I just-"

"Shut up now, Bobby," said Barbara. "You are now in 'well-behaved child mode' from the Victorian era, when children were to be seen, but not heard. You will speak only when you are spoken to."

"Or else you will be tickled even more than we _already_ plan to tickle you," added Kris.

There was a certain hungry sparkle in Barbara's green eyes, and the same sparkle in Kris' blue eyes, that made Bob immediately shut his mouth and wait quietly. Cynthia returned, and tossed a couple of stockings to each of the other women. Jen and Kris tied his wrists together, and also tied a stocking around both of his elbows, drawing them to within five inches of each other.

Shari reached up and pulled down his briefs. Bob gasped in surprise, as she and Barbara got up long enough to remove them, and then tied his legs together at the ankles, below the knees, and above the knees.

"You were staring and staring at our bare feet," said Shari, "so it's only fair that you be naked for us to stare at. Not that there's much to see."

All five of them laughed at her joke. Bob's face turned red again, this time from embarrassment.

"And you're going to be punished for that gasp," said Barbara, "because I _told_ you to be as quiet as a well-behaved child in a Victorian household."

She lifted him up in her arms, and placed him face down on the couch, with his face in the cushions and his groin on the armrest, so that his butt was the highest part of him, and his bound legs were hanging down. She went to the kitchen, and returned with a wooden spatula.

"I expect you'll have to make some noise now, Bobby, but no words," she said.

Barbara alternated cheeks, and gave him thirty firm smacks. By the fifth smack, he was grunting in pain, and by the 20th he was screaming with each blow. She never paused, but mocked him as she spanked.

"Such a baby! I'm not hitting you even half as hard as I could. You'll have no bruises or broken skin, it's just bright red. As red as your face was."

The housemates all came to look, and Kris eagerly reached for the spatula when Barbara was done.

"I've _always_ wanted to do this!' she exclaimed. "He was such a brat as a kid, and his parents didn't believe in spanking him."

Kris gave him 30 more whacks, and he was sobbing by the time she finished. He kept sobbing as Shari, Jen, and Cynthia all took their turns, each giving him thirty.

"Let that be a lesson to you, Bobby-poo" said Barbara. "And the next time that you disobey us, it will be at least 100 spanks from each of us."

Bob continued sobbing as she and Kris carried him to the downstairs bathroom, and held him up in front of the toilet. Kris aimed for him, and he found it humiliating, but he did manage to urinate, as his need was so great.

They carried him upstairs to a bedroom which was furnished, but had no belongings in it; it had been Louise's room. More stockings were used to tie him to the bed--his wrists to the horizontal bar below the headboard, his elbows to the sides of the bed's frame, the bonds above his knees also to the frame, and his ankles to the horizontal bar below the footboard. The women stood around the bed, admiring their work in rendering him helpless.

"He really is so _cute_ when he's tied up and helpless," said Jen, "but those prominent ribs should be better presented," she added, "so let's put a couple of pillows under his back."

She and Cynthia went out of the room, returned with some pillows, and did so. Jen also put a sleeping mask over his eyes.

"He should be more ticklish if he can't see it coming," she explained.

"Poor Bobby-poo," said Kris, "is totally at our mercy, and not able to do anything about it. I almost feel sorry for him. OK, get ready, get set, _tickle_!"

At her word, all ten hands assaulted him. He shrieked and howled, and pulled viogorously on the stockings that bound him, but but he was tied too well to move much. One woman was working on his left foot with her nails, one was at his right foot, running a fork the length of his sole, one was playing his rib cage as if it were a piano, one was digging into both of his armpits, and one was tickling both of his collarbones. He couldn't see any of them, of course, but he knew that Cynthia was the one near his head, tickling his collarbones, when she began to taunt him.

"Such a _cute_ baby. Such a _sweet_ Bobby-poo. Does it tickle? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Does it, now? Tickle, tickle, tickle. That's too bad, baby, because we aren't going to stop. Oh, no, not for a couple of _hours_. Tickle, tickle, tickle. It's just 9:30 now, and you're getting tickled until midnight! Tickle, tickle, tickle. Poor Bobby-poo. Can you stand it? You've got no choice, baby, you're all tied up. You'll have to stand it. Tickle, tickle, tickle."

After half an hour more, Bob had stopped thrashing in his bonds, as he had no strength left. Tears flowed from under his sleeping mask. His mouth still made laughing movements, but he had insufficient breath to produce audible laughter. Cynthia noticed that he was close to fainting again, and warned the others.

"Slow it down, slow it down, he's almost not breathing. Keep tickling, but more gently. No reason to let him rest by being unconscious. Let's keep him awake, and suffering."

She succeeded in her purpose, and and Bob remained conscious, a quivering blob of ticklish flesh, squirming at their attentions. At this point, she resumed speaking to him.

"So you thought we'd let you faint? Oh,no, Bobby, no way. You can't escape, not at all. Not by getting untied, not by fainting. Tickle, tickle, tickle. It is _so_ amusing to watch you squirm, baby. So useless, as you only manage to wriggle a fraction of an inch, and we _never_ stop tickling you. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Poor baby! So cute and helpless, so ticklish, so amusing to tickle. Tickle, tickle, tickle, Bobby-poo. We may never let you go!"

They kept him in tickle-torture hell, a quaking jelly of ticklish flesh, until finally it was midnight. He kept quivering and sobbing for a few minutes, even after they had stopped tickling him.

Kris left the room, and returned with an empty milk carton. She put his penis into it, and told him to urinate, while hoding his member with one hand and the carton with the other. The sleeping mask made it easier for him to comply--he couldn't see them all watching.

"Now we'll play a game, cousin. You tell us who was tickling what part of your body. Each woman that you place incorrectly will give you a hundred spanks tomorrow."

Bob frowned at the word 'tomorrow,' and they all laughed at him.

"Surely," said Kris, "you didn't think that we would untie you now? We're all having so much _fun_ with you. We're all looking forward to tomorrow--none of us has a Friday class. For you, this is going to be a _very_ long weekend, Bobby-poo."

They all laughed at him again, and gave him a few tickles. They did remove the pillows from under his back, and put one under his head.

"Now," said Babara, "you were asked to tell us who was tickling which parts of your body this evening. You may speak."

Bob decided to be calm, and only answer the question. Threatening to go to the Dean, or to the cops, would not be wise while he was tied up, he decided. His voice was weak, and hoarse from so much laughing.

"Cynthia was tickling my collarbones, Barbara was tickling me under the arms, Jennifer was tickling my ribs, Shari was tickling my left foot, and Kris my right foot. That's my best guess."

"Not very perceptive of you, Bobby," said Kris. "You're correct about Cynthia, but Shari was at your armpits, Barbara at your ribs, I was at your _left_ foot, and Jen at your right. So you'll get 400 spanks tomorrow, 100 from each of us except Cynthia."

"But I loved spanking him!" said Cynthia. "Can't I have a hundred, too?"

"That wouldn't be fair to him, he did place you correctly. But if we each give you 20 that we're entitled to, then everybody will have 80. How does that sound?"

Agreeing to this, all five women left the room, telling Bob that he had better sleep well, because he had an exhausting day coming.

[to be continued in this thread]

Help for Bobby (F/m) Part Three

Part Three
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Friday, September 27, 2002
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Barbara woke Bob at 8:30am by tickling him under the arms. He shrieked and opened his eyes, but could not see. He tried to move, but discovered that he was still tied securely to the bed. Barbara removed his sleeping mask, helped him urinate into the empty milk carton, and then left the room with it. Jen and Cynthia in, carrying a tray with his breakfast.

"How lucky you are, Bobby-poo, we're going to feed you breakfast in bed," said Cynthia, sitting in a chair near his head, as Jen sat on the other side. Cynthia fed him forkfulls of scrambled eggs, and pieces of toast, while Jen gave him sips of orange juice and coffee. Four of the women were present by the time he finished eating; only Shari was not there. Kris put his sleeping mask back on, removed the pillow from under his head, and put it, along with a second pillow, under his back.

"Now, I'm going to be kind to you, cousin Bobby, and tell you some of what we have planned for you today. Each of us is going to tickle you solo, for an hour. We'll give you a lunch break around noon. When each of us has had her hour, then you'll get your spankings. I do hope you haven't forgotten that you're going to get 80 spanks from each of us today. After that, we'll have surprises for you. Some unpleasant, I'm afraid, but at least one that you'll like. OK, Cynthia, you're first. I'll tell you when your hour is up."

Cynthia began on his collarbones. He howled, and thrashed as much as he could. After twenty minutes, he was red in the face, and gasping for breath. She decided to go to his ribs and belly, and tickle more gently, until he returned to normal color, and healthy audible laughter. Then she dug into his armpits, until he was again unable to make a sound. As he quivered under her fingers, she exulted.

"This is _so_ cool! You are so incredibly ticklish, I just can't believe it. Tickle, tickle, tickle, Bobby-poo. I will be so sorry when my hour is up. This is just so much fun! Tickle, tickle, tickle."

She was so lost in the joy of tickling him senseless that she didn't even hear Kris telling her that her hour was up. Jen had to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention, and then tell her that she was ready to take over. Cynthia reluctantly moved away from the bed.

Jen sat in a chair near his feet, and spent fifteen minutes tying his toes. First, she tied his big toes together, using the laces from his own sneakers, and then tied them back to his ankle bonds. She used twine to tie his other eight toes back also.

"That didn't count as part of my hour, did it?" she asked.

The other women all agreed not, and Barbara checked her watch, and noted that it was 10:15am.

Jen picked up a bag with implements that she had prepared. She began working on his soles with a soft-bristle toothbrush, but it only made him giggle slightly there. Between his toes, it it caused him to shriek and thrash, so she picked up another toothbrush from the bag, and soon was using both between his toes. In a parody of advice for dental hygene, said spoke to him.

"It's very important to always brush between your toes. Be sure to get in every crevice, and to brush thoroughly. Do this after every meal, and your toes will stay healthy and free of decay. Brush, brush, brush!"

After ten minutes of this, he was laughing so hard that he was sobbing uncontrollably, and Jen decided to try a small paint brush. It was disappointing; it was too soft to tickle him much anywhere. But then she found that the pointed end drove him mad on his heels.

"Oh, that's just great! Barb, could you please get me another of these brushes? They're in Shari's room, near her easel."

Barbara soon returned with another water-color brush, and Jen was scraping the pointed ends of both of them all over his heels.

"Just listen to him shriek--it's positively an inhuman sound! Tickle, tickle, tickle, Bobby-poo. You really are in for it, baby. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle."

When he was gasping for air again, near fainting, she put the brushes aside, and picked up a fork from the bag. A few minutes of experimentation struck gold for her: The tines of the fork, dragged slowly across the balls of his feet, produced the greatest ticklish reaction yet.

"Oh, Bobby, I wish I had tried the fork earlier. It's the best! You should see how you wriggle and squirm. Oh, this is so much _fun_."

Without being asked, Barbara went down to the kitchen and brought another fork for her, so that she could drag both of them across the balls of his feet. She then reassured Jen.

"Don't worry, when I take over from you, I'll keep using the forks, right where it drives him insane, right where it keeps him in ticklish agony."

Just ten minutes later, with Bob reduced to a quivering mass of jelly, Barbara tapped Jen on the shoulder, and spoke to her.

"It's 11:15 now, so your hour has expired. Get up and give me those forks, I'll give him no peace."

As Jen did so, Barbara added, "Could you please go to the kitchen, and bring me back some ice water? A lot, at least a quart."

Jen nodded, and left the room, as Barbara dragged both forks, slowly, in figure-8 patterns over the balls of Bob's feet. Agony was an understatement. Bob lay quaking in silent laughter, unable to breathe, terrified, and wishing that he would faint. When Jen returned with a large pitcher of water and ice cubes, Barbara told her to stand near his head.

"When he faints, pour some on his face," she said.

"Won't that get the mattress all wet?" asked Jen.

"Don't worry, only Bobby will be on the mattress," she answered.

Within five minutes, Bob did faint dead away, and the frigid water woke him up, as the four women laughed at him, and Barbara just kept tickling. When he fainted again, ten minutes later, she left his feet, and let him actually rest--he had turned an ominous shade of blue in the face.

He woke up on his own, to find Barbara tickling his thighs and belly, and behind his knees. This kept him laughing, but not so hard as before. She never let him stop laughing, not for a moment, until Kris told her that her hour was up.

Kris fed Bob a diet shake for lunch, along with as much water as he wanted to drink. She then ate a sandwich herself, as did the other women. After helping him to urinate into the milk carton, she told him what to expect next.

"You're all mine for the next hour, Bobby-poo, and I'm going to drive you mad. I'll get all of your worst spots, and I'll never let you rest. It's just what you deserve, little cousin, and you're going to get it good and proper."

She glanced at her watch--it was 12:45pm--and began with an all-out attack on his collarbones. He howled, and pounded his head on the now wet mattress, but it did not distract him from the tickling sensations. His face turned red, and he continued to struggle, but he could not escape her strong fingers, which never stopped probing his sensitive collarbones. After ten minutes, he was reduced to quivering helplessly, a mere blob of ticklish flesh.

She then switched to his underarms, and he jolted in his bonds as if shocked by high voltage. Tears began to flow from under his sleeping mask, and his mouth moved in laughing motions, but no sound came out. Kris continued to dig under his arms, with a hungry gleam of tickle-lust in her eyes, as she spoke to him.

"Only one-quarter of my hour is up, and already you're reduced to a quaking, silent mass of ticklish flesh, totally helpless to my touch. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You'll get no mercy from me, Bobby. What you _will_ get is my undivided attention. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle. I'm going to concentrate entirely on your helpless, naked, ever-so-ticklish body, and give you all of the female attention that you've been missing. Tickle, tickle, tickle, Bobby-poo. You're all mine, to tickle and tickle. My own living tickle toy, much more fun than the Tickle-Me-Elmo that was so popular years ago. Tickle, tickle, tickle. It's so much fun to tickle you, Bobby, that I don't see how we can ever stop."

After she had continued to torment his sensitive armpits for some time, Shari came into the room, carrying two large shopping bags.

"Will it be my turn soon?" she asked.

"Kris has another 35 minutes, then it's your turn," said Jen. "The rest of us got him before lunch. Did you eat yet? There's plenty of roast beeef, ham, and swiss cheese left in the fridge."

"No," said Shari, "I'll make myself a sandwich while Kris finishes."

She went downstairs, leaving the shopping bags in the bedroom.

"Your underarms are all red now, Bobby-poo, so I'll work on your feet now," said Kris, as she went to the chair by his feet.

She picked up the forks, and began to plow furrows in the balls of his feet with their tines. Bob was still in the silent laughter mode, and could only wriggle feebly as she stroked and stroked his feet. Her eyes gleamed, and she was quite amused at the futile twitching of his bound toes, as he gasped and sobbed.

"You were staring and staring at our bare feet, Bobby-poo, so it is fitting and just that I give some attention to yours. Lots of attention, actually, to your very ticklish soles. They're already pink, where I'm scratching these forks, and I hope to get them red, bright red, before I'm done. Except for Cynthia, you have smaller feet than any of us. And _so_ ticklish, it's hard to believe how very ticklish they are. You must never go barefooted. There will be no mercy for you, cousin, just endless tickling on your ever-so-sensitive soles. Did you notice that I slowed up when you were turning blue? I'm not going to let you faint. Oh, no, there will be no escape for you into unconsciousness. I'm going to keep you awake, and suffering in ticklish agony, for my whole hour--too bad there's only ten minutes left. Poor little Bobby--tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle. No escape for you. Tickle, tickle, tickle."

Shari came back upstairs from her lunch, and came over to Bob's head. She removed his sleeping mask, and smiled down at him. As Kris continued to stroke and stroke his soles with the forks, Shari spoke to him.

"My turn in next, Bobby. And, for a change, you will be allowed to talk while I tickle you. In fact, it will be _required_. I bought some nice things for you, Bobby, I was shopping on your behalf this morning. And there was only $17 in your wallet. Don't look so shocked, young man, of course I took your wallet with me. I was shopping for _you_. So, while I tickle you, you are going to tell me the code for this."

She held Bob's ATM card in front of his eyes. He shook his head no.

"Oh yes, you will, Bobby. You just wait."

Shari got up and went behind Kris, ready to take over. Two minutes later, Kris noted that it was 1:45pm, got up, and handed the forks to Shari, who began to tickle his soles, across the balls of his feet, in the grooves already traced out by Kris, which were indeed bright red. Bob continued to wriggle and squirm in the jelly state, unable to utter a sound, even if he had wanted to. Shari was as skillful as Kris had been, and slowed up whenever he seemed in danger of fainting. Half way through her hour, she spoke to him.

"It's half an hour now. Nod your head if you're willing to tell me your ATM card code."

Bob managed to shake his head no, in the midst of his unbearable ticklish agony. He could hold out for the last half hour, he thought. Shari just kept tickling his soles, and smiled as he squirmed and wriggled. The futile twitches of his bound toes amused her just as much as they had Kris. She didn't speak to him again until 2:40pm.

"Just five minutes until my hour is up, and you probably are congratulating yourself on holding out. Don't be smug just yet, young man. In five minutes, you'll have two choices. You can tell me your ATM card code, and there will be no more tickling for hours--until after dinner, actually. Or you can still refuse. But if you refuse, you won't get another chance to talk for a very long time. All day, all night, and well into tomorrow. We'll sleep in shifts, and gang-tickle you for 24 solid hours. No rest, no sleep, and soaked in ice water every time you faint. For 24 hours straight, even if you beg to tell the code. If you're still alive at the end that ordeal, you'll have one last chance to talk. Think about it, Bobby-poo. 24 hours straight, if you won't talk now. Will you talk?"

Bob managed to nod his head yes. He felt that he would surely die in far less than 24 hours.

"Good choice," said Shari. "I'll show you how kind I can be, and let you off the last three minutes of my hour."

She stopped tickling him, and they all gathered around him. It took more than three minutes for him to get his breath back. He finally spoke.

"RRL425. The code is RRL425."

"Hell," said Kris, "I could have guessed it. It's just his initials, and his own birthday."

"How lame," said Cynthia.

"Is it really just that?" ask Barbara.

"Yes," said Kris, "Robert Roy Lamb, born April 25, 1984. He didn't even use the year."

"Well," said Shari, "I'll spank him first, and then I'll go and get his money."

All five of them untied his toes, and untied him from the bed, but they left the stockings tying his wrists, elbows, legs, and ankles together. They flipped him over onto his stomach, put several pillows under his groin, and re-tied his ankles and wrists to the ends of the bed. His bare bottom was sticking up into the air, an inviting target.

Shari took a paddle out of the shopping bag, and held it for him to see.

"This is one of the things that I bought for you, for which I'm going to reimburse myself. Spanking you yesterday with the wooden spatula was fun, but this will be even better."

Bob shuddered at the sight of the paddle. Its handle was like that of a ping-pong paddle, but the body was larger--a rectangle of wood, 15" by 4", and one-quarter inch thick. The body was padded on both sides with pink leather.

"I want you to appreciate how kind I'm going to be to you, Bobby-poo. Here's how hard I _will_ hit you," said Shari.

She smacked the mattress near his head, and it made a solid thunk.

"But here's how hard I _could_ hit you," she said, and, after a long backswing, slammed the mattress with a mighty blow, which caused the whole bed to move a few inches.

Bob turned pale at that, and began to tremble. Shari started to spank him, five strokes on one cheek, then five on the other, and kept alternating by fives. He was grunting in pain from the first smack, and crying by the tenth. By the 20th smack, he was sobbing uncontrollably. The last ten spanks, five on each upper thigh, had him screaming as loud as he could.

"Poor baby," said Shari as she left, flaunting the ATM card in his face, "you have 320 spanks to go. Too bad that I won't be here to see it, and hear you cry."

Jennifer felt real sympathy for him, and asked to have her turn next.

"You're such a pathetic sight," she said to him, "that I'm just going to give you love taps."

The other women groaned as Jen indeed just lightly tapped his red bottom 80 times. She then came over to his face, tickled him under the chin for a minute, and kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

"How sweet," said Kris. "I'll go next, and they won't be love taps."

She tore into him with gusto, and had him sobbing again immediately. She gave him all 80 smacks, without pausing. When she was done, she also came over to his face, and tickled him under the chin. But then she held the paddle to his lips.

"Kiss it, and then thank me, or you'll get 80 more from me, even harder."

Bob kissed the paddle, and, between his sobs, said, "Thank you for taking the time to spank me and correct my behavior, Kris."

"You're very welcome, Bobby-poo. It was my pleasure. Be assured that I'm ready to do it again, any time your behavior is less than perfect."

Barbara stepped forward, and took the paddle from Kris. She held it to Bob's lips, and spoke to him.

"Kiss it, and tell me in advance that you deserve a spanking from me. And recommend to me how hard I should spank you."

Bob kissed the paddle, and realized that the last question was a trap. He spoke in a trembling voice.

"I most certainly deserve a spanking from you, Barbara, because I failed to correctly answer where you were tickling me last night. And you should spank me just as hard as you want to, I acknowledge that I have no say in the matter at all. Just as hard as you wish."

"Good answer, Bobby-poo. If you had recommended love taps, I would have beaten you black and blue. This way, you'll get my usual spanking for naughty little boys. Firm, but not cruel."

She began to spank him, quite firmly, working her way up from his lower thighs, to his upper thighs, to his butt, and then back down again. He was howling and sobbing throughout the 80 smacks, and very glad when she had finished. She handed the paddle to Cynthia.

"Your bottom is very sore and red already," said Cythia, "it really looks bad. And I was so happy that you picked me as having the prettiest feet. So be grateful that I'm just going to give you love taps."

Bob smiled and relaxed, but then screamed as she began to spank him, very hard indeed.

"Fooled you!" said Cynthia. "Did you really think that I would be a softy, like Jen? No way!"

She put her full strength into the spanking, and whaled away at him without a pause. He was sobbing so hard that he began to choke on his own tears. When she was done, he kept sobbing for some time.

Cynthia came over and put the paddle to his lips. She smiled very sweetly at him, and savored the moment before speaking.

"Now you will kiss the paddle five times, and then tell me just why it was a great honor for you to be spanked by me. If I am not happy with your statement, then I will give you more spanks, just as hard. Not merely 80 more, maybe 180 more, or 280 more, or even 880 more. So you had better please me with your statement."

Bob kissed the paddle five times, slowly, so that he would have time to think of how Cynthia would like to be flattered. Then he spoke, in a very scared voice.

"You not only have the most exquisitely beautiful feet that I have ever seen, but also the most beautiful face, and a perfect figure. Your brilliant analysis in English class shows that your mind is just as superb as your body. It is a great honor for me to even be in the same room with a woman as magnificent as you are. The fact that you were willing to take the time and effort to help me, to correct my character and behavior, by spanking me, is a very great honor. I thank you so much, it was a supreme honor to be spanked by you."

The four of them all laughed at his gross flattery, and Cynthia laughed the loudest. She picked up the paddle again, just to see him terrified, and then spoke.

"That was ... barely sufficient. So I won't spank you any more today. For which I expect you to be supremely grateful."

They untied Bob entirely, and carried him to the bathroom, where they allowed him to use the toilet, and ordered him to take a quick shower. Back in the bedroom, they removed a straightjacket from one of the shopping bags, and soon had him buckled into it. Ankle cuffs were removed from the bag, and and his ankles were locked into the padded cuffs, and then locked together. Bob was put on his back, on the floor. A chair was put over him, so that his head stuck out in front of the seat.

"Now, you're in for a treat," said Barbara, as she sat in the chair. "For the next two hours, you will serve me by licking my soles. Does that prospect please you? You may answer, but be sure to be polite."

"Yes, Barbara, your feet are very lovely, and I will be most happy to lick them. Thank you so much."

"Good, Bobby, you seem to be learning what the Victorian era well-behaved-child mode is all about," said Barbara, as she slowly unlaced her running shoes, and then pulled them off, revealing very sweaty bare feet.

"There's a lot of sole to lick, as I wear size 12. What I want is long, slow licks, from heel to toe, the whole length of my sole, with your tongue fully extended. Get started."

Bob did exactly as instructed, on her left sole, which was quite grimy and sweaty. After ten minutes, she switched feet, and began to taunt him.

"I'll bet you'd rather have Cynthia's feet to lick. Too bad, you're not ever going to touch them. As you saw last night, she has exquisite feet, perfect toes, high arches, creamy soles, uncalloused heels, and is a size 6, not too small, not too large, just perfect. Just what you crave most, but you won't get it. Right, Cynthia?"

"Right!" answered Cynthia. "Did you think I liked it when you stared at my feet in class? You were _so_ obvious, you creep. You were practically drooling when I showed up in strappy sandals. You'll _never_ touch my feet. I'll tease you with them, be sure that I will, but you'll never be allowed to touch these exquisite feet."

Barbara switched feet every ten minutes for the first hour, and then had Bob suck on her toes, one by one, for the next half hour. Then she went back to having her soles licked.

"He's really enjoying this," said Kris, pointing to the bulge under the flap of the straigtjacket that went over his groin.

"Yes," said Barbara, "even my large feet, with callouses, in a grimy state, turn him on. Very amusing. We should all go barefoot around him, all the time, just to tease him."

"Here's some news that should cheer us all up, except Bobby," said Shari, who had returned from an ATM on campus. "There was too much money in his account to take out in one day. I took out the daily maximum, $400. That left $523 and change. So I'll get another $400 tomorrow, and $120 on Sunday, leaving him with three dollars and change. I'll reimburse myself for the bondage equipment, and the rest goes into our house budget."

Bob's head jerked in rage at this news, and then he resumed licking Barbara's sole.

"That will cost you, Bobby-poo," said Barbara, "you were ordered to lick my soles, not to listen to conversation in the room. How many spanks should he get for being inattentive to my lovely feet?"

"Five hundred," said Jen, "a hundred from each of us."

"No, a thousand," said Kris.

"You decide, Barb, it was your feet that he neglected while listening to me," said Shari.

As Bob continued licking her soles, Barbara mused.

"Well, the 400 that he got today was close to what he can endure in a day, without marking him. So let's say 500 in any one day is the most that we'll give him. But there's no reason a well-deserved punishment can't be spread out over time. So let's say 2000 total, divided equally among the five of us. 500 tomorrow, 500 Sunday, and 1000 more that he'll owe us."

The women all nodded, and Cynthia and Jen went downstairs to prepare dinner. Bob thought, I'll never be back to pay that debt of 1000 spanks, once they set me free on Sunday night, or Monday morning, I'll never see them again, never, except in passing on campus.

The rest of the foot-worship session passed in silence. At 6pm, the three women left him alone, on the floor in his straightjacket and ankle cuffs, and went down to dinner.

Bob desparately tried to hold in his urine while they ate, but it had been too long, and he had to let it flow, making a large stain on the straightjacket and on the rug. All five of them returned to the bedroom at 6:45pm, with his dinner on a tray.

"Oh, hell, he's pissed all over the rug," said Shari.

"And stained the nice, new straightjacket," said Barbara.

"I should have bought some adult diapers for him. If you keep somebody tied up all day, this is bound to happen," said Shari, laughing at her own pun.

"Jen, you were the wuss who wouldn't really spank him, so you'll be the one to hand-wash the straightjacket and clean the rug," said Barbara.

She paused, and Jen nodded, reluctantly.

"Now," she contiued, "comes the matter of punishment for Bobby. I'm tempted to withhold his dinner, but he will need his strength for the evening's events, so let's just add to his spanking debt. 500 tomorrow, 500 Sunday, and 3,000 more that he owes us."

All of the women grinned and nodded, and Bob wondered what made them think he would ever be so stupid as to come back to be spanked again after Sunday. They got him out of the straightjacket and cuffs, and fed him while Jen began the cleaning. They ordered him to shower again, and then bound him to the bed again. This time they used padded wrist cuffs that Shari had bought, as well as the ankle cuffs, a blindfold (with huge eyepatches, and a leather strap to fasten around the head), and lots of rope, also from her purchases. Shari went off to buy some adult diapers, as the other four surrounded him.

"It's just 8pm, Bobby-poo, and you're going to get gang-tickled for four hours now. Enjoy!" said Kris.

Kris dug into his collarbones, with all ten fingers. Barbara attacked his armpits, poking and scratching with glee. Cynthia alternated between his belly and his thighs. Jen sat by his feet, and scraped the two forks over the balls of his feet. Within fifteen minutes his struggles had faded, and his laughter was weak. Kris began to taunt him.

"Poor baby, so weak, so exhausted. You don't have the strength to struggle much, do you? You're just a quivering lump of ticklish flesh, squirming for our amusement. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Utterly helpless under our attentions. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Isn't that what you wanted? To get some atention from women? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Well, you've _got_ it. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You're the center of attention, of four beautiful young women. Five when Shari gets back, with some diapers for you. Tickle, tickle, tickle. What's the matter, baby? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Why are you crying? Tickle, tickle, tickle. I got you just what you wanted. Tickle, tickle, tickle, Bobby-poo. You're going to be the center of our attention all weekend, baby. Tickle, tickle, tickle. So relax and enjoy it. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle."

When they had been tickling him for an hour, Shari returned, with several boxes of adult diapers. She managed to put one on Bob as the other four women kept tickling him. Then she pulled another chair over to his feet, and Jen shifted to his left foot only, with Shari using two more forks on his right sole.

"All snug in your diaper now, baby," said Shari, "so you won't make another mess. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You're so _cute_ when you're all tied up and helpless! I just can't get enough of tickling you. I just can't imagine ever wanting to stop. Tickle, tickle, tickle."

The women switched positions at 9:30, and again at 11pm, so that they all had a chance at his different ticklish spots. They never let him faint, but never let him stop laughing, either. At midnight, they changed his diaper, but left him bound to the bed and blindfolded. Jennifer kissed him goodnight, very tenderly, on the forehead.

[to be continued in this thread]

Help for Bobby (F/m) Part Four

Part Four
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Saturday, September 28, 2002
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Bob was awakened at 8:30am by the smell of coffee. Kris and Jen were in the room, he saw, as they took off his blindfold. They put an extra pillow under his head, and fed him scrambled eggs and toast again for breakfast. Then they let him sip orange juice and coffee, after which they changed his diaper. When this disagreeable task was done, the other three women entered the room.

"Let's get started," said Shari, "it's just 9 o'clock, so we have time for a three hour gang-tickle before lunch."

All five of them tore into him with glee. Cynthia had something new, an electric toothbrush, and was applying it between his toes. Jen and Kris each scraped at one of his armpits, Barbara played his rib cage as if it were a piano, and Shari tickled his collarbone with all ten fingers. As she did so, Shari stared deeply into his eyes, and spoke to him.

"Aren't you glad that I bought these nice padded wrist and ankle cuffs for you? It must be much more comfortable than the stockings, which had cut into you. Tickle, tickle, tickle, Bobby-poo. There's something else I did this morning that won't make you glad. I got up early, drove to campus, and got another $400 from your bank account, using the ATM in the Student Center. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Our house fund is quite flush now, Bobby-poo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. It's going to be another _long_ day for you, but a lot of fun for us. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Isn't it fantastic, all five of us tickling you at once? Tickle, tickle, tickle. I'll bet you never thought that you could be the center of attention of five beautiful women, all at the same time. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle. Well, you are, and you are really in for it, Bobby-poo. We're going to tickle you insane. Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle."

When the batteries of the electric toothbrush ran out, Cynthia switched to two ordinary toothbrushes, and scrubbed between his toes vigorously. Bob was near fainting, barely able to breath, when Shari to slow down, to keep him awake and suffering. Soon they found the corrrect rhythm, just enough to keep squirming and laughing weakly, in desparate ticklish agony. Every minute seemed like an eternity of tickle-torture to Bob, and it went on and on, without pause.

----------------------

At long last, Shari announced that it was noon, and the women went downstairs to have lunch, leaving Bob, in a wet diaper, to recover his breath. 45 minutes later, having had soup and sandwiches, they came back with a diet shake for him to drink. Jen held it while he sipped, and tickled him under the chin when he was done. Then she kissed his forehead again, and spoke to him.

"Such a cute baby! You really are _so_ cute when you're helpless. And your best quality is that you're so very, very ticklish. Dear ticklish baby." And she kissed him again, this time on the cheek.

The women untied him, and Barbara and Jen accompanied him to the bathrooom, where he was directed to put his soiled diaper in the trash, take a shower, and put on a fresh diaper.

Back in the bedroom, he was put into the straight jacket, told to lie down on the floor, and had his ankles cuffs. The chair was again put over him, so that his head stuck out in front of the seat.

But this time it was Shari who sat in the chair, already barefoot.

"I do hope that you noticed that we're all going barefoot in the house, all the time, just to tease you. You may find my soles somewhat dirty on that account, but, of course, I expecct to hear no complaint from you. Now, I do want exactly the same kind of tongue bath on my soles that you gave Barbara yesterday. Get started!"

Bob provided the same type of licks, slowly from heel to toe, along the whole length of the sole, with his tongue fully extended. Over and over he licked, noticing that Shari's feet were about a size 9, and not as calloused as Barbara's had been. By the time she switched feet for the second time, he had a firm erection.

Ninety minutes into the foot-worship, at 3pm, Bob was startled when Kris unbuckled the groin strap of the straightjacket. He never missed a lick, though, as she also removed his diaper, and then began to stroke his penis. He had been hard for so long that in just two minutes he felt a climax was imminent. Kris held a pair of red panties in her other hand, and made sure that quite a lot of his ejaculation spattered them. She handed the soiled panties to Cynthia, who put them into a plastic bag, and left the room.

Bob was pleased at the orgasm he had experienced, surprised that he cousin would provide it for him, and utterly mystified about the red panties. He was proud that he had never stopped licking Shari's soles, not even when he came. As he continued to lick, she spoke to him.

"You seem puzzled Bobby, quite clueless about why we got you to soil those panties with your sperm. So, just keep slurping my soles, while I let you know what's up. Those red panties belong to Cynthia, and she's putting them in a safe hiding place for now. Monday, she'll put them in her safety deposit box at the bank. If it becomes necessary, the other four of us will testify that you had a date with Cynthia, and that you went into her room with her, and that she was drunk, quite drunk indeed. She'll testify that you raped her, and put a pillow over her mouth, so that we wouldn't hear her scream. A DNA test will prove beyond any doubt that your sperm is on her panties. You'll certainly be expelled from college, and surely convicted of forcible rape. A skinny little guy like you won't do well in prison, I'm afraid. You'll wind up as some tough convict's bitch, and he'll share your services with all of his friends, or make you into a prison *****, and keep your earnings. All this will happen, _if_ it becomes necessary."

Shari paused, as Bob, terrified and trembling, continued licking her soles, with a dry mouth.

"What we want from you is to move in here, into this room. By Tuesday, you will let the housing office know that you're giving up your dorm room, and moving off campus. On Friday, you will move in here. If you don't, it _will_ become necessary for Cynthia to go to the cops. She volunteered for the role, knowing that the rest of us are all bigger and stronger than you are. She's the only one of us who would have mcuh credibility with the story--I would have to be not just drunk but unconscious for you to have your way with me. It will be so amusing to have you as our housemate, Bobby-poo. I do hope that you'll cooperate, and agree to our plan. I would hate to think of you in prison, being brutalized by all the nasty bullies there. I'll let you think about it while you finish licking my soles."

Cynthia returned to the bedroom, and watched with the others as Bob kept licking Shari's soles. Finally, Shari felt that the tongue bath had gone on long enough.

"You may stop licking now, Bobby. Tell us, will you cooperate, and move in here?"

All five of them watched with interest as Bob gulped, and paused, and then finally spoke.

"Yes, I will," he said, in a voice of utter despair.

All five of them grinned with great satisfaction.

"Wise choice, Bobby," said Kris. "I can't see that you had much to think about. Prison would not agree with you, not at all."

"And now," said Shari, "I do believe that it's time for your spanking today, 500 smacks, 100 from each of us."

They left him is the straightjacket, with the groin strap unfastened, and wearing no diaper. They tossed him onto the bed, face down, and put three pillows under his groin, to raise his bottom into the air.

"I'll go first," said Jen, "and I do really think that he's such a sweet little baby, so he only gets love taps from me."

Good to her word, she just lightly tapped his butt 100 times with the paddle, while telling him how cute he was, and how glad she was that he would be moving into the vacant room.

But Kris went next, taking the paddle from Jen, and delivering 100 solid whacks in a steady, deliberate rhythm. He was sobbing by the 10th stroke, and continued to sob as she finished, and handed the paddle to Barbara.

Barbara spent a minute rubbing his bottom, and said, "Poor baby! It's already bright red, I do feel sorry for you. But not sorry enough to be a wuss like Jen. So brace yourself."

She then gave him her 100 spanks in a rapid-fire pounding, no harder than Kris had, but much faster. He had no time to recover between strokes, and was sobbing louder than ever when she finished.

Shari took the opposite approach, giving her spanks slowly, and with irregular timing, so that he could never anticipate when the paddle would strike him. Cynthia went last, and imitated Barbara, hitting him so rapidly that it seemed like one continuous pain, rather than 100 separate blows. She spoke to him after she finished.

"You've had a hard day, Bobby. I want to give you some variety. Some work to do, and it doesn't involve being tickled or spanked. You see, we rotate chores in this house, and this week I have my least favorite job--cleaning both bathrooms. Will you agree to clean the bathrooms? You have to clean them well--floors, tiled walls, tub upstairs, shower stall downstairs, sinks, and toilets. If you don't want to clean the bathrooms, then I'll judge you to be disagreeable, and give you a thousand more spanks, right now. You may answer."

"Yes, I will clean the bathrooms, Cynthia," said Bob.

The women released him, and showed him where the cleaning supplied were to be found. He was surprised that he was unsupervised, as he began to clean the upstairs bathroom. But then he realized two things: He didn't know where his clothes and wallet were, and, more importantly, he didn't know where the soiled panties were. He didn't doubt that Cynthia would go to the cops if he fled, clothed or naked. With his DNA on the panties, it would not be a case of he-said, she-said. So he finished cleaning the walls, and began on the tub.

----------------------------------------------

It was 6:30pm when Bob finished cleaning both bathrooms, and found the women eating dinner in the kitchen.

"Down on all fours, Bobby," said Kris, as he walked into the kitchen. "You are never to stand up when we're in the same room with you."

Bob got down on his hands and knees, and waited.

"All done with the bathrooms?" asked Jen.

"Yes, Jen."

"Then you may sit at the table with us, and eat. But remember to be seen and not heard, cute baby," she said.

Bob sat down to have fried chicken, rice, and green beans. Shari, already done with her dinner, left the kitchen. By the time she returned, Bob had finished his meal, and was hoping that they would give him some of the ice cream that they had had.

"You did a very good job on the bathrooms, Bobby-poo," said Shari, and Bob smiled.

"Very good, but not perfect," she added, and Bob had a sinking feeling in his stomach, entirely justified by what she said next.

"You missed a smudge on the side of the medicine cabinet upstairs, and you left some soap film on the stall shower door downstairs. I would say 500 spanks for each of those mistakes, but it was Cynthia's job that you did, so the mistakes reflect on her. Let her decide."

"Let me see," said Cynthia, "500 is a bit lenient. Teaching you to do chores properly requires some rigor. 1000 spanks for leaving the smudge is adequate--the smudge was already there before you started. But the soap film downstairs was something new, a mess that you created, when you were supposed to be cleaning the glass door. So I deem that to be a serious error, and assess you 3,000 spanks for it."

Shari took out a little notebook, wrote in it, and said, "4,000 added to his debt. So, it will be 500 tomorrow, and 7,000 owed for after he moves in."

The debt no longer seemed theoretical, and Bob's dinner had become a lump in his stomach. He couldn't have eaten the ice cream, not that they offered him any. They ordered him to go up to the bedroom, put on a new diaper, and lie on the bed waiting for them.

They tied him securely to the bed, using the wrist and ankle cuffs, and they blindfolded him and tied all of his toes back.

"It's not even 8 o'clock yet," said Barbara, "so you're about to get a four hour gang-tickle, Bobby-poo. Won't that be fun?"

All five of them began to tickle him, and they never stopped. Ten hands were busy, tickling all of his worst spots. He shrieked and thrashed at first, but grew weaker. After 30 minutes had passed, he was laughing continuously but weakly, and only trembling in his bonds.

"We've got him in the jelly state now," said Kris, "he's just a blob of quivering ticklish flesh, utterly helpless to our touch. Let's keep him this way all night!"

The other women were all in agreement, and tickled him without mercy until midnight. Then they changed his diaper, let him drink some water, and untied his toes. Four of them left, and Jen stayed behind to kiss his forehead, and speak to him.

"Dear, cute little Bobby-poo! I really like you, and I'll never hurt you. Best of all, I like to tickle you, and tickle you, and tickle you even more. But you can count on me to protect you, cute baby."

Then she left him to sleep.

[to be continued in this thread]

Help for Bobby (F/m) Part Five

Part Five
----------

Sunday, September 29, 2002
----------------------------

Bob was awakened at 8:20am by Jen tickling his ribs, as Cynthia tickled him under the arms. They continued for ten minutes, until he was red in the face, when Kris came in with his breakfast. They removed his blindfold, fed him, and then changed his diaper. Barbara and Shari arrived, and they tied all of his toes back, so that his soles were flexed and vulnerable.

"Before you get your morning tickling session," said Shari, "I just want you to know that I got up early, again went to an ATM, and took $120 from your bank account. That leaves you with a balance of $3.17. But don't worry, when you move in here on Friday, you'll be getting room and board with no cash outlay. Which reminds me--giving up your dorm room just about one month into the semester should get you a refund of about $900. That will be your rent here for the rest of the semester. Try to keep it, and Cynthia goes to the police."

"Right!" said Cynthia. "That money is ours."

"OK," said Barbara, "it's just 9:15, so let's get started."

All five of them began to tickle him, Barbara with two forks on the soles of his feet, Shari with two toothbrushes on and between his toes, Kris with all ten fingers on his ribs, Cynthia with two toothbrushes in his armpits, and Jen with her fingernails on his collarbones.

"Poor little Bobby-poo," said Jen, "so very helpless and so very, very ticklish. Tickle, tickle, tickle. No hope for you to get away. Tickle, tickle, tickle. We'll just keep you on the edge--we've gotten really good at that, keeping you in the jelly state, without letting you faint. Tickle, tickle, tickle. And that's just what we'll do, for hours and hours, until we get hungry for lunch. Tickle, tickle, tickle, cute baby! Oh, you're just ever so cute when you're all tied up, my tickle-lust for you can never be satisfied. I'll just have to tickle you for ever and ever, sweet helpless baby!"

And so they tickled him, all through the morning, as he squirmed futilely, and gasped for breath, and sobbed. At noon, Shari announced that she was hungry, and that they should all have some lunch.

After eating, the women came upstairs and untied Bob, and allowed him to drink a diet shake. They ordered him go shower, and put on a clean diaper. When he got back from the bathroom, they put him into the straightjacket and ankle cuffs, and laid him down on the floor, as usual, with his head sticking out from under the seat of a chair, ready for foot-worship session.

Bob was surprised to see Cynthia sit down, as she had told him that he would never be allowed to touch her feet. She crossed her legs, and put one bare foot so that the ball of the foot was one-eighth of an inch above his nose, and wiggled her toes, almost poking his eyes.

"You can't have them, Bobby," she said, "you'll never be allowed to touch these perfect feet of mine. But I'm going to wiggle and flex them in your face for quite some time. About an hour."

All five women laughed and laughed, as Kris pointed to the large bulge in his groin, visible even through the diaper and flap of the straightjacket. Cynthia continued to taunt him.

"Such a creamy sole, and you'll never lick it. Such perfect toes, and you'll never suck them. Such a high arch, and you'll never kiss it. Never, Bobby-poo. Serves you right, too."

After half an hour of this, Bob closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the gorgeous sole right in front of them. Kris noticed immediately.

"Hey! He's closed his eyes! That's not allowed, Bobby," she said, kicking him lightly in the ear. His eyes flew open.

"How dare you!" said Cynthia. "It's part of your torture to stare at this perfect foot. You're going to be punished for closing your eyes. Let's see, would 2,000 more spanks be sufficient?"

"Oh, no," said Shari, taking her little notebook out of her pocket. "It's a very serious insult that he willfully refused to look at your foot, when you wished to tease him by making him look. Listen, Bobby, we blindfold you when we don't want you to see. That is _our_ decision. You are _never_ to close your eyes otherwise. _We_ decide when you see, or not. Your eyes belong to _us_, as does all of your body. Just so that you don't forget who owns you, I'm adding 5,000 spanks to your debt, which now totals 12,000, not including the 500 that you're going to get today."

Bob, eyes wide open, stared at the creamy, delightful sole above his face. Jen unbuckled the groin strap of the straightjacket, and took off his diaper. She began to stroke his penis. She had a pair of her own panties, sexy black ones, in her other hand. Bob was very hard, and had an orgasm in one minute flat. Jen made sure that the panties were well-stained with his semen. She put them in a plastic bag.

"It won't hurt to have two of us who can go to the cops, we don't want this cute baby getting ideas about escape," she said. "I _am_ much taller and stronger than he is, but I could have been in a drunken stupor, so drunk that I collapsed unconscious on my bed, and he could have pulled down my panties and taken advantage of me. So I'll just save these in my safety deposit box. Why not have two of us who can send him to prison? That way we'll be double sure that he stays here, our obedient cute little tickle toy."

She put the soiled panties in a plastic bag.

"Keep teasing him," said Shari to Cynthia. "There's no reason we shouldn't be triple or quadruple sure."

Shari and Barbara left the room to return with pairs of their own panties. With Cynthia's beautiful feet in front of his face, Bob could not help but oblige them in providing more ejaculate for their purpose.

"I don't think Uncle Mike and Aunt Vivian would like to hear that I went out on a date with their son, my own cousin, and got drunk and got raped," said Kris. "So it will have to suffice that each of the four of you has unimpeachable evidence against him. That should be enough to keep him quite docile, and very obedient. Tomorrow, you should each take the panties to the bank, and store them in your safety deposit boxes for safe keeping. I forget, where did Monica keep that blue dress, stained with Bill's semen?"

Nobody remembered that except Bob, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, and kept staring at the flexing sole and wiggling toes above his nose. Despite having ejaculated three times, he has getting hard again.

"Well, the little fellow is hard again, can you believe it?" asked Shari. "We had best spank all of the lustfull thoughts out of him. It's 2pm already, so let's give it to him. 500 spanks due today."

They soon had him face down on the bed, with pillows under his groin, and his bare bottom invitingly up in the air. They let Jen go first, and give him 100 love taps, while telling him that she just couldn't wait to tickle him again, and how cute he was. Then Barbara, Kris, and Shari spanked him soundly, on his bottom and his thighs, so that he was sobbing uncontrollably when Cynthia's turn came.

She had asked to go last, and she used her full strength, taunting him as she savagely beat his already red bottom.

"How dare you close your eyes! Whenever I want to tease you, you _will_ cooperate and look. Your insolence will be well punished. You belong to us now, and you're going to be obedient, _very_ obedient. Understand?"

She expected no answer, and got none, as he was sobbing too hard to speak. By 3:30pm, his 500 spanks had been delivered, and they put him back down on the floor, under the chair, in position for more foot-worship.

Jen waited a few minutes for him to stop crying, gave him some water to drink, and put a diaper on him. Then she sat in the chair and instructed him.

"I want the same kind of foot-worship that you gave to Shari. Long licks, along my whole sole, with your tongue fully extended. A thorough tongue bath! Begin."

Bob did as instructed, quite happily. Although at 5'11" she was an inch shorter than Barbara, Jen had larger feet, size 12-1/2. She did take good care of them, and never wore sneakers or shoes without socks. Bob happily licked and licked, and barely noticed when the other four women left the room. After he had been licking her soles for an hour, Jen spoke to him.

"That feels _so_ good. Nobody ever licked my feet before, and I wasn't sure that I would like it. But I do like it, a lot. Nobody ever even kissed my feet. I always got teased because they're so big. You wouldn't believe the nasty cracks about my feet that I got from the boys in my high school. They'd tease me about needing canal boats for shoes, or squashing dogs wherever I stepped. I do appreciate that you like my feet, that you said they are lovely. And I definitely like that licking them has gotten you all excited again. That is very sweet of you. I'm getting rather excited myself, I really love the feel of your tongue on my sole. So just keep licking, and don't mind what I'm doing."

Jen put one hand inside her blue jeans, and inside her panties, and began to touch herself, as Bob kept licking. Already excited, it was just a few minutes before she began to moan, and speak again.

"Oh, that's nice, keep licking, um, that's good, it's getting close, yes, yes, ... very close, good, yes, ... oh, good, yes, YES! YES! OH! YES! OH! ... nice, nice, oh, so nice ... yes ... lovely, yes ... Well, Bobby-poo, between your tongue on my sole and my good right hand where it does the most good, I just had the best orgasm of my entire life. You really are a sweet little thing, you know. And it's such fun to tickle you, I can never get enough of that. I do wish the others wouldn't spank your cute little bottom, but they're not going to stop. You just stay sweet, and docile, and obedient, because I couldn't bear the thought of you in prison, brutalized by nasty convicts. So you'll just be a good little boy, won't you? And keep licking, I just love the way it feels."

Jen had just climaxed for second time, at 5:30pm, when Cynthia called up to her that she was needed downstairs to help cook dinner. She released Bob from the ankle cuffs and straightjacket, and told him to take a shower before coming downstairs himself.

Arriving downstairs in only a diaper, Bob remembered to get down on all fours before coming into the kitchen. He was ordered to set the table for six, and did so as they finished cooking. He sat at the table with them, and kept his silence. It was Jen who filled his plate for him, with what she thought he should eat. She did smile at him, and give him a plate of ice cream when the meal was done.

After dinner, Bob was ordered to clear the table, rinse the dishes, and load the dishwasher. They ignored him as he did so, except for Kris, who pinched his bottom through his diaper, causing him to drop the plate he was rinsing.

-------------------------------------------

By 8pm, Bob was back upstairs, tied securely to the bed, wearing only his diaper. Shari announce a four hour gang-tickle, and they all went at him with gusto. They had him reduced to the jelly state, a quivering lump of helpless, ticklish flesh, with a half hour. As his tickle-torture continued, Kris spoke to him.

"Well, Bobby-poo, I've given youu all of the help that you wanted. Tickle, tickle, tickle. You have the undivided attention of five women, who, without false modesty, are quite beautiful. Tickle, tickle, tickle. And soon you'll be living with us, and you'll have a very busy social life, with loads of attention from us, every single day. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Four of us will allow, nay, demand, that you lick our feet. That's beyond your wildest hopes and dreams, I'm sure of that. You'll love that part of it. Tickle, tickle, tickle. I do hope that you're grateful to me, Bobby-poo, for all I've done for you. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Oh, it's so cute the way you sqirm and wriggle, but can't get away from us! I could just tickle you forever, Bobby-poo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Dear little Bobby, we're going to have such _fun_ with you!"

That evening, their fun continued slightly past midnight, when they left him, exhausted and tickled senseless.

[to be continued in this thread]

Help for Bobby (F/m) Part Six

Part Six
----------

Monday, September 30, to Thursday, October 3, 2002
----------------------------------------------------

Monday morning, Bob was awakened at 9am, by Kris ticling him under the arms. She kept it up for fifteen minutes, and then began untying him. When he was loose, she removed his soiled diaper, ordered him to go shower, and slapped his bare bottom, hard, as he went by her.

By 10am, after a quick breakfast, he was getting dressed for the first time since Thursday of the previous week. His wallet had no money and no ATM card, but his student ID card was in it. On the drive to campus, Kris told him that she, Barbara, and Shari would come to his dorm to carry his stuff to their cars on Friday, at 12 noon.

"And if you're not packed and ready, with the paperwork in hand, showing that you have officially relinquished your dorm room, and requested a refund, then, I can assure you, by 2pm we'll all be at the police station, with Cynthia carrying her stained panties. Oh, and don't forget to turn in your meal-plan card, and ask for a refund for that, also. The money goes into our house fund, so don't even think about trying to keep any of it."

Bob assured her of his cooperation, and got back to his room just in time to pick up the books for his first class. In Dr. Fox's English class, that afternoon, Cynthia looked right through him, as if he didn't exist.

He spent all of Monday night trying to think of a way out of the trap into which he had fallen, but he could not. All scenarios ended up with his being a penniless fugitive from justice, wanted for rape, with the cops after him. His father would certainly believe the worst of him, he always had, and be furious that he had thrown away the chance of a good education.

Tuesday and Wednesday he didn't think about it at all, but merely went through the motions of attending class, eating, and sleeping. Not that he could sleep much, though.

Thursday morning, he woke up with a feeling of dread. He went to the Residential Life office, signed the appropriate papers, and kept copies to show to Kris. Somehow, this made him feel better, and he was calm for the first time since Monday morning. Nobody at Residential Life seemed to care that he was moving off campus, or asked him why. Looking at the line of students waiting when he left, he realized that many first year students didn't like their roommates, or their living arrangements, and made a change during their first semester.

Thursday night he spent packing. Besides clothes and books, the only other possessions he had at school were his laptop computer, and his music system. All were packed and ready to be moved before he went to sleep.


Friday, October 4, 2002
------------------------

Bob woke up, realized what was to happen this day, and ran to the bathroom, where he threw up. He went back to his room and waited, too upset to eat anything.

At 12 noon sharp, there was a knock on his door. Kris, Barbara, and Shari were there, and he handed the forms from Residential Life to Kris without a word.

"Good," she said, "so that's taken care of, and we can get going."

With all four of them carrying his stuff, the two cars that they had brought (Kris' and Shari's) were loaded by 12:30. He rode with Kris, and Barbara with Shari. The unpacking went quickly as well, and Bob said nothing as they put his expensive music system in Kris' room. Barbara took his laptop, explaining that she needed a new one, and that he would be using the computer lab in the library. His clothes and books were unpacked into what had been Louise's room.

"Now strip," said Kris, and all five women watched as he stripped naked, and then got down on all fours.

"Lie down on the bed," ordered Kris, and he obeyed.

In minutes, he was tied down, using the wrist and ankle cuffs, and blindfolded. His toes were all tied back, as usual. They began tickling him, with no mercy, all ten of their hands busing, driving him mad, tickling him insane.

Kris explained his new life to him, as they tickled and tickled, giving him no rest, no pity, and no mercy.

"Monday to Thursday, I'll be driving you to campus every morning, and I'll drive you back here at 5pm. You're to meet me in Parking Lot C, and you had better be there on time, every time. You'll do all of your school work in the library. Once you're back in this house, Monday to Thursday evenings, and all day Friday to Sunday, you're not a student. You're our slave. You'll do all of the chores here, except cooking. We do like to eat good-tasting food, and I don't believe that you have any talent in that regard. You'll do all of the cleaning, laundry, vacuuming, dishwashing, and so forth. Any chore that you do imperfectly will be punished, with rigor. Believe me, you can count on that. Four of us, anyway, will smack your bottom soundly for all of your transgressions. We're increasing your spanking quota to 1,000 per day, by the way. We'll see if you can perform your chores well, and work off that spanking debt. Of course, you'll get extreme tickle torture, every day. Lots and lots of it on weekends. Any attempt to escape, and you go to prison. The cops would put out a nation-wide alert for somebody who is charged with the forcible rape of an 18-year-old woman, and we'd make sure that the political pressure wouldn't let up until you were caught. So I'm sure that you'll be a very docile, very meek, most obedient slave here. You'd _better_ be."

All five of the women laughed and laughed at this prospect, as they continued to tickle him, and tickle him, and tickle him even more.


Epilogue
----------

For Thanksgiving recess, Bob told his parents that he was going with Kristine to his aunt and uncle's house in Cleveland. She kept a close watch on him there.

Without sufficient time to do his school work, Bob was put on academic probation at the end of the fall semester. His father was furious, and screamed at him for hours over Christmas vacation. Mostly, he kept repeating that Bob was wasting an opportunity, a very expensive opportunity, that he would have been glad to have when he was 18.

Bob had been obliged to ask his parents if he could invite his cousin Kristine home with him for the vacation, and they had agreed. They thought it was marvelous how the cousins got along so well, and were inseparable. They told him that he should be more like her, an honor student, and she agreed to keep an eye on him at school during the spring semester. By the time they flew back to Pennsylvania in early January, Kris had taken possession of Bob's passport, and also helped herself to his stamp collection, which he had accumulated between ages 12 and 17, putting quite a lot of the money he earned during the summers into buying plate blocks. She sold the stamp collection in Pittsburgh, and was pleasantly surprised that it brought $2,300.

In the Spring 2003 semester, Bob fell behind in all of his courses, not really having enough time to work in the library. He tried to do his chores perfectly, but could never manage that either. His spanking debt was up to 143,000, and the women were talking about raising his quota to 2,000 per day.

Jennifer always gave him just love taps, and continued to gratify herself whenever he licked her soles. By April, she had gotten the other women to agree that she should enjoy his services in that regard every day.

When grades came out in May, nobody was surprised that Bob had flunked out. His father cut off all contact with him, and told him not to come home, until he had gotten a job, saved money, and paid his parents back the $25,000 wasted on his year of college.

Shari, who graduated magna cum laude, planned to start working for her MBA in September, and stayed on in the house. Bob was told that, no longer a student, he was now their slave seven days a week. They keep him naked, wearing a dog collar and leash, whenever he is not otherwise bound. Jen has taken only a part-time job for the summer, and is looking forward to many blissful hours with Bob licking her soles. All of the women are looking forward to tickling him, endlessly, day after day.

The End