reflexology414
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2001
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DISCLAIMER: My life has been complicated of late, and I haven’t had time to write. This is an extremely abbreviated draft of a true experience I had in high school. I may write a full-length version later. I was hesitant to post this because it may be viewed as controversial, but hopefully the community will be tolerant.
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This is an abbreviated account of one of my earliest tickling experiences that involved bondage. What made this experience unique was that my ticklee was already bound to her bed when I found her.
I was a senior in high school, and social opportunities in my community were sorely limited. Partway through the first semester, a young man named Mark transferred to my school. We had many classes together and spoke often. Before long, we started socializing outside of school.
Mark was unusually charismatic and seemed to make friends quickly. His newfound circle of friends was largely comprised of students I would not otherwise socialize with – arrogant jocks, snotty rich kids, and a handful of students with disciplinary problems that often got them in trouble.
Something about Mark troubled me, but I nonetheless gave him the benefit of the doubt. We’d only known each other for a short time, and I wanted him to feel welcome in his new surroundings.
During my first visit to Mark’s home, his parents to an instant liking to me. They said I was far more mature than any of his other friends. I was encouraged to visit often.
Mark’s father gave me a tour of the house and engaged me in conversation. He also introduced me to Mark’s sister, Tracy. I was surprised to learn that Mark had a sister – he’d neglected to mention her.
Tracy was not quite fourteen, but amazingly cute – just envision a young Amanda Tapping. She had a remarkable body and a girlish demeanor that made her irresistible.
Mark was less than kind to his sister. Tracy desperately wanted to hang out with him, but he constantly admonished her to leave him and his friends alone.
In the weeks that followed, I spent a great deal of time with Tracy. I was the only one of her brother’s friends who reached out to her, and she appreciated my friendship.
Tracy eventually developed a crush on me, and we spent many evenings in her parents’ basement sharing rented movies or listening to music. I didn’t immediately confide in her about my love of women’s feet and tickling. However, she was tolerant of my tickling attacks and even asked me to paint her toenails a few times.
One day, Mark invited me to join him and the rest of his friends for lunch. We were supposed to meet at his parents’ house and walk to the restaurant. My parents gave me some last minute chores, which made me late. By the time I reached Mark’s house, he and the other guys were gone. I was preparing to leave when I heard pleas for help.
Tracy was calling out to me from her bedroom, and she sounded desperate. I made my way through the house, opened the bedroom door and found her tied to the bed in a spread-eagle position. She explained that Mark’s friends did this to her when she tried to join them for lunch.
My first reaction was one of anger -- I was appalled that Mark and his friends were cruel enough to put Tracy through this. I was preparing to untie her when my tickling instincts abruptly surfaced. Seeing this pretty teenage girl lashed helplessly to her bed was more than I could resist.
While speaking in warm, soothing tones, I straddled Tracy’s waist, raised her shirt, and quietly explained my affinity for tickling. Her eyes widened, and she began blubbering and pleading hysterically.
NOTE: My goal was NOT to traumatize Tracy. She was my friend and I truly cared for her. I knew she felt vulnerable, so I proceeded cautiously.
I gently stroked Tracy’s stomach with light, feathery touches as involuntary giggles poured from her mouth. Her abdominal muscles were involuntarily contracting, and it almost seemed like her stomach was trying to evade my ticklish touch.
Before I go further, I’d like to clarify that Tracy was not frightened. She’d grown to trust me in the weeks leading up to this incident, and I’d tickled her many times before. Furthermore, I didn’t just leap onto the bed and apply my cruelest techniques – which proved to be a wise decision.
Once I was confident that Tracy could tolerate some playful experimentation, I applied my patented bread-kneading technique to her sides. This technique proved intense, and she shrieked, thrashed, and yanked at her bonds while pleading for mercy. I didn’t want her to become tense, so I eased up.
While giving Tracy a breather, I positioned myself beside her so our faces were mere inches apart. She knew the tickling was about to resume and seized the opportunity to take a few deep breaths.
I used my left hand to tenderly caress Tracy’s forehead while probing her belly button with the index finger of my right hand. She promptly emitted an aria of operatic giggles, which I enjoyed for more than two minutes. When her giggles became tainted with a hint of arousal, I decided to move on.
Tracy watched intently as I unlaced her white canvas sneakers and removed her socks. She knew how much I loved playing with her feet and didn’t bother pleading for mercy.
When my fingers made contact with Tracy’s soles, she howled with maniacal laughter and nearly thrashed the bed to pieces. I experimented with lighter touches until she was laughing and giggling with considerably less anxiety.
Tracy had been a wonderful sport about this entire experience, and I knew I should wrap things up. I stood beside the bed, instructed her to take a few deep breaths, and attacked her tummy and feet with wiggling fingers for nearly two minutes.
I kissed Tracy’s cheek and untied her. She remained on the bed giggling and smiling for nearly two minutes. She finally sat up, kissed me… and playfully smacked me with a large fluffy pillow until the stuffing began coming out.
Tracy wasn’t angry with me, but she was worried about being there when her brother and his friend returned. I escorted her to my house, where she remained with my family.
After Tracy’s parents got home, we called them and explained what Mark and his friends had done (no mention was made of our tickling session). Tracy’s father was especially furious, and asked me to bring his daughter home.
When we reached the house, Tracy’s father had Mark by the ear and was escorting him to the basement. My relationship with Mark ended that day, but I continued spending time with Tracy until I left for college.
---------------------------------------------------------
This is an abbreviated account of one of my earliest tickling experiences that involved bondage. What made this experience unique was that my ticklee was already bound to her bed when I found her.
I was a senior in high school, and social opportunities in my community were sorely limited. Partway through the first semester, a young man named Mark transferred to my school. We had many classes together and spoke often. Before long, we started socializing outside of school.
Mark was unusually charismatic and seemed to make friends quickly. His newfound circle of friends was largely comprised of students I would not otherwise socialize with – arrogant jocks, snotty rich kids, and a handful of students with disciplinary problems that often got them in trouble.
Something about Mark troubled me, but I nonetheless gave him the benefit of the doubt. We’d only known each other for a short time, and I wanted him to feel welcome in his new surroundings.
During my first visit to Mark’s home, his parents to an instant liking to me. They said I was far more mature than any of his other friends. I was encouraged to visit often.
Mark’s father gave me a tour of the house and engaged me in conversation. He also introduced me to Mark’s sister, Tracy. I was surprised to learn that Mark had a sister – he’d neglected to mention her.
Tracy was not quite fourteen, but amazingly cute – just envision a young Amanda Tapping. She had a remarkable body and a girlish demeanor that made her irresistible.
Mark was less than kind to his sister. Tracy desperately wanted to hang out with him, but he constantly admonished her to leave him and his friends alone.
In the weeks that followed, I spent a great deal of time with Tracy. I was the only one of her brother’s friends who reached out to her, and she appreciated my friendship.
Tracy eventually developed a crush on me, and we spent many evenings in her parents’ basement sharing rented movies or listening to music. I didn’t immediately confide in her about my love of women’s feet and tickling. However, she was tolerant of my tickling attacks and even asked me to paint her toenails a few times.
One day, Mark invited me to join him and the rest of his friends for lunch. We were supposed to meet at his parents’ house and walk to the restaurant. My parents gave me some last minute chores, which made me late. By the time I reached Mark’s house, he and the other guys were gone. I was preparing to leave when I heard pleas for help.
Tracy was calling out to me from her bedroom, and she sounded desperate. I made my way through the house, opened the bedroom door and found her tied to the bed in a spread-eagle position. She explained that Mark’s friends did this to her when she tried to join them for lunch.
My first reaction was one of anger -- I was appalled that Mark and his friends were cruel enough to put Tracy through this. I was preparing to untie her when my tickling instincts abruptly surfaced. Seeing this pretty teenage girl lashed helplessly to her bed was more than I could resist.
While speaking in warm, soothing tones, I straddled Tracy’s waist, raised her shirt, and quietly explained my affinity for tickling. Her eyes widened, and she began blubbering and pleading hysterically.
NOTE: My goal was NOT to traumatize Tracy. She was my friend and I truly cared for her. I knew she felt vulnerable, so I proceeded cautiously.
I gently stroked Tracy’s stomach with light, feathery touches as involuntary giggles poured from her mouth. Her abdominal muscles were involuntarily contracting, and it almost seemed like her stomach was trying to evade my ticklish touch.
Before I go further, I’d like to clarify that Tracy was not frightened. She’d grown to trust me in the weeks leading up to this incident, and I’d tickled her many times before. Furthermore, I didn’t just leap onto the bed and apply my cruelest techniques – which proved to be a wise decision.
Once I was confident that Tracy could tolerate some playful experimentation, I applied my patented bread-kneading technique to her sides. This technique proved intense, and she shrieked, thrashed, and yanked at her bonds while pleading for mercy. I didn’t want her to become tense, so I eased up.
While giving Tracy a breather, I positioned myself beside her so our faces were mere inches apart. She knew the tickling was about to resume and seized the opportunity to take a few deep breaths.
I used my left hand to tenderly caress Tracy’s forehead while probing her belly button with the index finger of my right hand. She promptly emitted an aria of operatic giggles, which I enjoyed for more than two minutes. When her giggles became tainted with a hint of arousal, I decided to move on.
Tracy watched intently as I unlaced her white canvas sneakers and removed her socks. She knew how much I loved playing with her feet and didn’t bother pleading for mercy.
When my fingers made contact with Tracy’s soles, she howled with maniacal laughter and nearly thrashed the bed to pieces. I experimented with lighter touches until she was laughing and giggling with considerably less anxiety.
Tracy had been a wonderful sport about this entire experience, and I knew I should wrap things up. I stood beside the bed, instructed her to take a few deep breaths, and attacked her tummy and feet with wiggling fingers for nearly two minutes.
I kissed Tracy’s cheek and untied her. She remained on the bed giggling and smiling for nearly two minutes. She finally sat up, kissed me… and playfully smacked me with a large fluffy pillow until the stuffing began coming out.
Tracy wasn’t angry with me, but she was worried about being there when her brother and his friend returned. I escorted her to my house, where she remained with my family.
After Tracy’s parents got home, we called them and explained what Mark and his friends had done (no mention was made of our tickling session). Tracy’s father was especially furious, and asked me to bring his daughter home.
When we reached the house, Tracy’s father had Mark by the ear and was escorting him to the basement. My relationship with Mark ended that day, but I continued spending time with Tracy until I left for college.
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