WARNING: If you're offended by the C word, consider yourself advised.
The tip of the feather glided over Vivian's bare skin ever so softly, which only served to heighten her torment. Vivian was ticklish. She was still ticklish. She knew she had been ticklish as a child. She remembered being tickled by her brothers, her father, her uncles. But there's was always a quick strike, and only on the soles of her feet. That was because she was always barefooted. Even in the middle of Wisconsin's worst winters Vivian would parade through her house with nothing on her feet. When the weather got warm Vivian was barefoot wherever she could get away with it. She loved being barefoot, and thought her feet were pretty. She thought her whole body was beautiful, and it never bothered her that she had such fair skin and couldn't get suntanned like the other girls. Their skin was probably like a first-baseman's mitt by now. Her's was still smooth and youthful at 38. And she never minded that her uncles would look at her bare feet and make jokes about their size. Vivian did not think size 10 was too big. They made jokes about her height too, but she didn't believe a teenage girl was too tall at 5-10. She was proud of her body.
Above the neck, though, was a different matter. Vivian hated her nose that she always thought was too large and shaped like an eagle's beak. She was none too thrilled with her red hair, either. Boys always went for the blondes and brunettes first. Why? Red hair is beautiful, the other girls would tell her. Fine, Vivian would answer, let's trade. The popular guys will ignore you and come for me then.
Which was why she was so surprised when Stephen, this guy she met at a bus stop when she started her new job, this fellow who worked in the same building as her, who was not just handsome but witty, smart, funny and so considerate of Viv as a person, would be interested in her, of all women. It would seem to her Stephen could have his pick. He picked her. She was so proud, even if it was just a first date. Everything must start somewhere.
"Ahhhhhhhhh," Vivian cried as Stephen's horrible feather stroked her nipples, her cleavage, the folds of her armpits, her chin. "Stop it," she pleaded. "No, don't, don't, noooooooooo." She was shocked at how ticklish she was. She had never been been tickled where the feather was now torturing her bare skin.
For years, Vivian thought the bottoms of the feet were the only place any person could be ticklish. It was the only place she had ever been tickled in the first 16 years of her life. It was only in college that she discovered her knees and her sides were also ticklish. Again, though, that was always just some quick strike by a wiseass male student. Vivian would yelp, pull away, that would be it for the tickling.
"NOOOOOOOO," Vivian screamed as Stephen's feather probed her right ear. Oh, God, that was ghastly. Her ears, Viv discovered were hideously ticklish. Who knew? Not her. She had never been tied up before, let alone tortured. She had only heard semi-credible stories of other cultures -- Oriental, mainly -- that employed tickling as a form of torture. Viv believed it now. Suddenly she was coming to a realization that "tickled to death" might be more than simply a cliche. Viv was going to find out if she could survive an unrelenting tickle-torture in a chilly attic with her hands and feet bound, her whole body immobilized, put there by a man she thought was the sweetest, kindest and most gentlemanly guy in the world -- a man she had willingly given her body to, and who lay next to her as naked as she was until she fell asleep in his arms.
Viv rocked her head violently as the feather tortured her tender ears, as it was flicked across the tip of her nose and into her nostrils. "Noooooooo, let me go, ahahahahahahahahahahaha, nooooooooo, please Stephen staaaap." Stephen tickled her chin, her neck, her cheeks. he moved from side to side, tickling both ears, both cheeks, both breasts. Vivian struggled with all her might. She squealed and begged for mercy. The feather began traveling up and down her milk-white belly. Vivian's screams and laughter became louder. Her writhing more violent. "No, no, no, no, no, no" she pleaded as Stephen's feather penetrated her bellybutton. Oh, Lord, it was the worst, much more horrible than her ticklish nipples. Vivian arched her head back and let out a long, monotonous squeal. Never had anything felt as terrible as the feather inside her navel -- the soft strokes going in and out and the slow circles her torturer made around the outside edge with the tip of that insidious feather.
Five minutes later -- what seemed to Vivian to be far longer -- Stephen took the feather out of his captive's bellybutton. Vivian no longer felt the cold. In fact, she was overheated from the screaming, the struggling, the merciless torture her "date" was forcing her to endure. She gasped for air, thankful that the torment had stopped.
"Please, let me go now," Vivian whispered when she was finally able to stop her heavy breathing long enough to put a sentence together. "Please, untie me, please. I won't tell anyone. Please, Stephen, I won't say a word about this. I promise."
Stephen, as usual, said nothing. He paused, then ran the feather along Viv's waist and the creases between her thighs and her pubic hair. "Ummm-mmm-mmm," Viv moaned as she bucked her midsection. That tickled, but not as much as when Stephen applied the feather to her belly, breasts and face. Vivian actually found it somewhat pleasant, coming as close as it did to her ****. "No more, please," she begged in a low voice. "Let me go. Please. No more tickling. I can't take anymore."
Please, Stephen, Viv thought. Please takes these ropes off me. They hurt. I can't feel my fingers. My arms are hurting. Please, show me some mercy. My ankles hurt. The ropes are too tight. Please...show me you're not a monster. Please...please...
Vivian heard Stephen get up. He rose slowly, and tried to walk slowly as well in an effort to make no sound. But Viv knew what he was doing. She felt him move down to the lower half of her body. She knew what was next she knew she could never have gotten away without what was going to happen next happen. Stephen was going to tickle the one place Vivian had always known was ticklish. Stephen was going to tickle the bottoms of Vivian's feet.
"No," Vivian whined.
"No, what?"
"Don't tickle my feet. Please, Stephen, don't do that to me."
Vivian heard Stephen bend down. She quivered at the sound. A few seconds passed before Stephen leaned forward and kissed Vivian's toes. Viv let out a short giggle, a little-girlish giggle. Her feet twitched at the touch of Stephen lips on her big toes bound so tightly to each other. Stephen then scratched the side of Vivian's bare left foot. "Yaaaahaaaa," came the startled reaction and another twitch of Viv's naked, helpless feet. She wriggled her toes, but couldn't understand why. The rest of her body was rigid, waiting for Stephen to begin torturing her poor, ticklish feet.
"Naaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh," Viv bellowed as Stephen's feather slid between her second and third toes of her right foot. "Noooooooo, nooooo," the bound woman screamed as the feather's tip explored the creases between each of Vivian's toes. Again, she fought against her ropes to no avail. There was no escaping Stephen and his feather. The tip glided across the tops of her toes as Viv pleaded for Stephen to let her go. Uncontrollable laughter held Viv's body in its grip as the feather went underneath her bare toes. "Hahahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha," Vivian cackled as the torture continued. Up and down the soles, from Vivian's heels to the balls of her feet, the feather made its way as Vivian was reduced to hysterics. Vivian had actually wondered if she were still ticklish on her feet. They hadn't been tickled in 22 years. She found out. She found out in a big way. Vivian figured no one could be more ticklish than this. Little did she know it was only going to get worse.
twenty minutes of non-stop tickling of Vivian's bare feet and toes ended, and the pitiful captive, sweat dripping from her forehead and moisening the ends of her copper-red hair, again gasped deeply to catch her breath. Finally, it was over. Certainly, Stephen would see that she had been tortured long enough and he would let her go. She would honor her promise not to say anything to anyone about her ordeal.
Stephen offered Vivian some water. He brought the glass to her parted lips, gently letting it touch her lower lip to let Viv know the glass was there. She opened her mouth. Stephen gently poured in some liquid, slowly so as not to choke his bound lady. Some of the water fell out of the glass and onto Viv's naked tummy. It felt good. The water had lost any coldness after the long period of Vivian's torture. She drank her fill, told Stephen she had enough, and wondered why he just didn't untie her to let her have a drink. Hey, the tickle-torture was over...wasn't it?
Stephen went down to Vivian's feet. He grabbed her toes -- one set in each hand -- then placed his hands on her insteps. He would untie her ankles first, Viv thought.
Stephen lifted his hands off the tops of Viv's feet. He ran one index finger along the sole of her left foot. "Ahhhhhhhhhh," Viv shouted as she twisted her upper body and wiggled her feet. "Doooooooooon't."
Stephen began spider-tickling the bottoms of Vivian's feet. Vivian began to lose control. "Naaaaaaaaaa....hahahahahahahahahaha....staaaaaaaap" she begged. She craned her neck, squirmed as best she could. She knew there was no escape, but couldn't help struggling in a vain attempt to avoid the tickling fingers. Stephen's fingers along the bottoms of her feet were worse than the feather. Much worse. Vivian's laughter became a silent scream, an open mouth with nothing coming forth. Finally, she got up the strength to begin begging Stephen to stop, hoping her sad cries would touch his heart and he would let her go. But the torture continued. Up and down, back and forth went Stephen's fingers on both of Vivian's captured bare feet. Stephen watched at Viv's big toes turned purple from the tight lace that bound them and Viv's futile struggles to get out of her binding. The laughter and pleading from his beautiful fair-skinned victim was delicious music filling the darkened room. Vivian's upper body bucked as she "no, no, no, no, no" interrupted the pained laugher she could do nothing to stifle.
After a hellish 15 minutes, it was over. For a third time, Vivian had to fight for breath. This time, it took much longer before she was eventually able to speak in a semi-normal tone. She assumed nothing. For all she could tell her torture would go on until she died of heart failure. But she was wrong. It was indeed over. When Viv seemed fully composed at last, Stephen began untying her. He started with the rope that wrapped around her upper body and behind the chair. She pitched forward, happy that her back no longer had to touch the chair back. Stephen then undid the rope that fastened Vivian's ankles to the footstool. She bent her knees, slowly, as she was in great pain from being bound for so long. Stephen untied her toes. All that was left were her wrists and ankles.
He ddidn't untie those. He picked up Vivian and carried her to the bed. He took a rope and fixed that rope from the one around her ankles to the left bottom post of the bed. Stephen then forced Vivian on her side and undid the rope around her wrists. Without a word, he left the room and walked to the second floor, closing the door to the attic behind him.
Vivian waited until her wrists stopped hurting before pulling off the blindfold. She then worked on untying the ropes the bound her ankles. It was tough, as her wrists were still killing her. Maybe 10 minutes of work finally got her ankles free. In spite of her pain she got up from the bed and went to open the door.
Locked.
The tip of the feather glided over Vivian's bare skin ever so softly, which only served to heighten her torment. Vivian was ticklish. She was still ticklish. She knew she had been ticklish as a child. She remembered being tickled by her brothers, her father, her uncles. But there's was always a quick strike, and only on the soles of her feet. That was because she was always barefooted. Even in the middle of Wisconsin's worst winters Vivian would parade through her house with nothing on her feet. When the weather got warm Vivian was barefoot wherever she could get away with it. She loved being barefoot, and thought her feet were pretty. She thought her whole body was beautiful, and it never bothered her that she had such fair skin and couldn't get suntanned like the other girls. Their skin was probably like a first-baseman's mitt by now. Her's was still smooth and youthful at 38. And she never minded that her uncles would look at her bare feet and make jokes about their size. Vivian did not think size 10 was too big. They made jokes about her height too, but she didn't believe a teenage girl was too tall at 5-10. She was proud of her body.
Above the neck, though, was a different matter. Vivian hated her nose that she always thought was too large and shaped like an eagle's beak. She was none too thrilled with her red hair, either. Boys always went for the blondes and brunettes first. Why? Red hair is beautiful, the other girls would tell her. Fine, Vivian would answer, let's trade. The popular guys will ignore you and come for me then.
Which was why she was so surprised when Stephen, this guy she met at a bus stop when she started her new job, this fellow who worked in the same building as her, who was not just handsome but witty, smart, funny and so considerate of Viv as a person, would be interested in her, of all women. It would seem to her Stephen could have his pick. He picked her. She was so proud, even if it was just a first date. Everything must start somewhere.
"Ahhhhhhhhh," Vivian cried as Stephen's horrible feather stroked her nipples, her cleavage, the folds of her armpits, her chin. "Stop it," she pleaded. "No, don't, don't, noooooooooo." She was shocked at how ticklish she was. She had never been been tickled where the feather was now torturing her bare skin.
For years, Vivian thought the bottoms of the feet were the only place any person could be ticklish. It was the only place she had ever been tickled in the first 16 years of her life. It was only in college that she discovered her knees and her sides were also ticklish. Again, though, that was always just some quick strike by a wiseass male student. Vivian would yelp, pull away, that would be it for the tickling.
"NOOOOOOOO," Vivian screamed as Stephen's feather probed her right ear. Oh, God, that was ghastly. Her ears, Viv discovered were hideously ticklish. Who knew? Not her. She had never been tied up before, let alone tortured. She had only heard semi-credible stories of other cultures -- Oriental, mainly -- that employed tickling as a form of torture. Viv believed it now. Suddenly she was coming to a realization that "tickled to death" might be more than simply a cliche. Viv was going to find out if she could survive an unrelenting tickle-torture in a chilly attic with her hands and feet bound, her whole body immobilized, put there by a man she thought was the sweetest, kindest and most gentlemanly guy in the world -- a man she had willingly given her body to, and who lay next to her as naked as she was until she fell asleep in his arms.
Viv rocked her head violently as the feather tortured her tender ears, as it was flicked across the tip of her nose and into her nostrils. "Noooooooo, let me go, ahahahahahahahahahahaha, nooooooooo, please Stephen staaaap." Stephen tickled her chin, her neck, her cheeks. he moved from side to side, tickling both ears, both cheeks, both breasts. Vivian struggled with all her might. She squealed and begged for mercy. The feather began traveling up and down her milk-white belly. Vivian's screams and laughter became louder. Her writhing more violent. "No, no, no, no, no, no" she pleaded as Stephen's feather penetrated her bellybutton. Oh, Lord, it was the worst, much more horrible than her ticklish nipples. Vivian arched her head back and let out a long, monotonous squeal. Never had anything felt as terrible as the feather inside her navel -- the soft strokes going in and out and the slow circles her torturer made around the outside edge with the tip of that insidious feather.
Five minutes later -- what seemed to Vivian to be far longer -- Stephen took the feather out of his captive's bellybutton. Vivian no longer felt the cold. In fact, she was overheated from the screaming, the struggling, the merciless torture her "date" was forcing her to endure. She gasped for air, thankful that the torment had stopped.
"Please, let me go now," Vivian whispered when she was finally able to stop her heavy breathing long enough to put a sentence together. "Please, untie me, please. I won't tell anyone. Please, Stephen, I won't say a word about this. I promise."
Stephen, as usual, said nothing. He paused, then ran the feather along Viv's waist and the creases between her thighs and her pubic hair. "Ummm-mmm-mmm," Viv moaned as she bucked her midsection. That tickled, but not as much as when Stephen applied the feather to her belly, breasts and face. Vivian actually found it somewhat pleasant, coming as close as it did to her ****. "No more, please," she begged in a low voice. "Let me go. Please. No more tickling. I can't take anymore."
Please, Stephen, Viv thought. Please takes these ropes off me. They hurt. I can't feel my fingers. My arms are hurting. Please, show me some mercy. My ankles hurt. The ropes are too tight. Please...show me you're not a monster. Please...please...
Vivian heard Stephen get up. He rose slowly, and tried to walk slowly as well in an effort to make no sound. But Viv knew what he was doing. She felt him move down to the lower half of her body. She knew what was next she knew she could never have gotten away without what was going to happen next happen. Stephen was going to tickle the one place Vivian had always known was ticklish. Stephen was going to tickle the bottoms of Vivian's feet.
"No," Vivian whined.
"No, what?"
"Don't tickle my feet. Please, Stephen, don't do that to me."
Vivian heard Stephen bend down. She quivered at the sound. A few seconds passed before Stephen leaned forward and kissed Vivian's toes. Viv let out a short giggle, a little-girlish giggle. Her feet twitched at the touch of Stephen lips on her big toes bound so tightly to each other. Stephen then scratched the side of Vivian's bare left foot. "Yaaaahaaaa," came the startled reaction and another twitch of Viv's naked, helpless feet. She wriggled her toes, but couldn't understand why. The rest of her body was rigid, waiting for Stephen to begin torturing her poor, ticklish feet.
"Naaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh," Viv bellowed as Stephen's feather slid between her second and third toes of her right foot. "Noooooooo, nooooo," the bound woman screamed as the feather's tip explored the creases between each of Vivian's toes. Again, she fought against her ropes to no avail. There was no escaping Stephen and his feather. The tip glided across the tops of her toes as Viv pleaded for Stephen to let her go. Uncontrollable laughter held Viv's body in its grip as the feather went underneath her bare toes. "Hahahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha," Vivian cackled as the torture continued. Up and down the soles, from Vivian's heels to the balls of her feet, the feather made its way as Vivian was reduced to hysterics. Vivian had actually wondered if she were still ticklish on her feet. They hadn't been tickled in 22 years. She found out. She found out in a big way. Vivian figured no one could be more ticklish than this. Little did she know it was only going to get worse.
twenty minutes of non-stop tickling of Vivian's bare feet and toes ended, and the pitiful captive, sweat dripping from her forehead and moisening the ends of her copper-red hair, again gasped deeply to catch her breath. Finally, it was over. Certainly, Stephen would see that she had been tortured long enough and he would let her go. She would honor her promise not to say anything to anyone about her ordeal.
Stephen offered Vivian some water. He brought the glass to her parted lips, gently letting it touch her lower lip to let Viv know the glass was there. She opened her mouth. Stephen gently poured in some liquid, slowly so as not to choke his bound lady. Some of the water fell out of the glass and onto Viv's naked tummy. It felt good. The water had lost any coldness after the long period of Vivian's torture. She drank her fill, told Stephen she had enough, and wondered why he just didn't untie her to let her have a drink. Hey, the tickle-torture was over...wasn't it?
Stephen went down to Vivian's feet. He grabbed her toes -- one set in each hand -- then placed his hands on her insteps. He would untie her ankles first, Viv thought.
Stephen lifted his hands off the tops of Viv's feet. He ran one index finger along the sole of her left foot. "Ahhhhhhhhhh," Viv shouted as she twisted her upper body and wiggled her feet. "Doooooooooon't."
Stephen began spider-tickling the bottoms of Vivian's feet. Vivian began to lose control. "Naaaaaaaaaa....hahahahahahahahahaha....staaaaaaaap" she begged. She craned her neck, squirmed as best she could. She knew there was no escape, but couldn't help struggling in a vain attempt to avoid the tickling fingers. Stephen's fingers along the bottoms of her feet were worse than the feather. Much worse. Vivian's laughter became a silent scream, an open mouth with nothing coming forth. Finally, she got up the strength to begin begging Stephen to stop, hoping her sad cries would touch his heart and he would let her go. But the torture continued. Up and down, back and forth went Stephen's fingers on both of Vivian's captured bare feet. Stephen watched at Viv's big toes turned purple from the tight lace that bound them and Viv's futile struggles to get out of her binding. The laughter and pleading from his beautiful fair-skinned victim was delicious music filling the darkened room. Vivian's upper body bucked as she "no, no, no, no, no" interrupted the pained laugher she could do nothing to stifle.
After a hellish 15 minutes, it was over. For a third time, Vivian had to fight for breath. This time, it took much longer before she was eventually able to speak in a semi-normal tone. She assumed nothing. For all she could tell her torture would go on until she died of heart failure. But she was wrong. It was indeed over. When Viv seemed fully composed at last, Stephen began untying her. He started with the rope that wrapped around her upper body and behind the chair. She pitched forward, happy that her back no longer had to touch the chair back. Stephen then undid the rope that fastened Vivian's ankles to the footstool. She bent her knees, slowly, as she was in great pain from being bound for so long. Stephen untied her toes. All that was left were her wrists and ankles.
He ddidn't untie those. He picked up Vivian and carried her to the bed. He took a rope and fixed that rope from the one around her ankles to the left bottom post of the bed. Stephen then forced Vivian on her side and undid the rope around her wrists. Without a word, he left the room and walked to the second floor, closing the door to the attic behind him.
Vivian waited until her wrists stopped hurting before pulling off the blindfold. She then worked on untying the ropes the bound her ankles. It was tough, as her wrists were still killing her. Maybe 10 minutes of work finally got her ankles free. In spite of her pain she got up from the bed and went to open the door.
Locked.
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