Corey's Crime and Punishment
By Brandon
Corey was the mastermind behind the plan. It was just the
prank to get even with that stuck-up little bitch, Marcie. She had
been resisting his and every other male's advances for the better part
of a year on campus. Her unwillingness infuriated Corey all the more,
considering she never turned anyone down without first teasing them
half senseless. Whether it was the way she danced at the campus pubs,
or the seductive way she smiled, she always punctuated her coy nature
with some show of public teasing. Late one night, Corey and a couple
of buddies decided that Marcie was well overdue for a little
punishment. They arrived at her dorm, armed only with garbage bags
and a cafeteria serving tray. After locating the washroom on her
floor, they filled the garbage bags with water and headed for Marcie's
room. They didn't bother knocking. The water would be enough to
signal their presence. By slipping the edge of the serving tray under
the door, they created a makeshift slide for the five to ten gallons
of water that was poured under her door. Without waiting to find out
whether she was home, the men quickly took to the stairs, reveling
over their deed. Within a few weeks, Corey had all but forgotten
about the incident. There was a rumor that he was involved in the
act, but no solid evidence to convict him.
Corey was later at a campus dance when he met Andrea.
She was above average in height with long, straight black hair, dark
eyes, and an olive complexion. Her definitive eyebrows gave her an
almost dangerous, slightly vampiric look. The minute Corey laid eyes
on her, he decided to do everything in his power to attain her for the
evening. He worked his usual charm, for their precursory
introductions and small talk quickly evolved into something of a more
sensual nature. Before long, their hot talk landed them both in
Andrea's dorm room in the building next door. After undressing each
other by candlelight, and teasing each other relentlessly for about
half an hour, Andrea got up from the bed and retrieved some old nylons
from her closet.
"What are they for?" Corey asked.
"Enough of this kid's stuff," replied Andrea, "I'm going to tie you
up."
Corey appeared wary about the idea, and stated so.
Andrea just smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. It's a major fantasy
of mine. I've done it with tons of guys. You'll never know what you
might have missed until you experience a blow-job while tied up."
Corey didn't need a second invitation.
Ten minutes later, Corey was firmly secured to a high-backed chair.
His ankles were bound to the chair legs immediately behind them.
Because of the extended width of the chair seat, his legs were parted
beyond his will. His wrists were tied together, pulled over and
behind his head, and secured with some loose nylon slack to the back
of the chair. There was even a nylon that fastened his waist to the
chair back. The front part of the seat area was smaller than average,
causing his balls to hang gently over the edge. Corey wasn't immobile
for more than a minute when there came a knock on the door.
Andrea stopped checking the bonds around his ankles and
looked at Corey with a sly look in her eyes. "Sounds like we have
some company," she whispered.
The door opened, and in walked Marcie. Corey's mouth dropped
open at the sight of her. This was the last person he could afford to
be caught helpless in front of! Andrea simply locked the door behind
her new visitor. The sound of the lock seemed to echo in Corey's
ears. Marcie sauntered over and slapped Corey across the face.
"I've been waiting to do that for three weeks, you fucker!"
Marcie hissed. "You managed to flood a hope chest with your childish
prank and ruin keepsakes I'd been saving for years."
Corey, his face stinging from the impact of Marcie's hand,
cursed and struggled to free himself from the bonds. Unfortunately,
Andrea had performed an expert job of bondage.
Marcie motioned to Andrea. "Oh, by the way, I see you've met
Andrea, my lovely friend from back home?"
"Yes, pleased to meet you," Corey mumbled sarcastically.
What do you think, Marcie?" Andrea asked. "Is it about time
we taught Corey a painful lesson in B&D?" She looked the captive male
up an down, and snickered. "And to think you fell for that old
'blow-job-and-bondage' gag."
Marcie grabbed a handful of Corey's hair and looked him
sternly in the face. "My things were permanently ruined, gifts from
my parents, from old boyfriends, from my dead grandparents. None of
those things can be replaced."
"You received gifts from your dead grandparents?" Corey inquired
with
a straight face. "Were they as generous when they were alive?"
Marcie's eyes widened in rage, and was about to strike Corey
again when Andrea stopped her. Corey watched as Andrea walked over to
her bureau and produced a curling iron from the drawer. She placed it
on the bureau and switched it on. Corey was first puzzled as to why
Andrea would be using a curling iron at such a late hour, and then
quickly understood full well the punitive uses that curling iron was
going to have. His eyes bulged in disbelief. Could they actually use
that diabolical device on him while he sat there helpless? Could they
actually be that cruel in punishing him over a trunk of keepsakes?
Andrea answered his thoughts. "We don't want you to think that
you're being punished merely for destroying someone's property. Your
reputation for harassing women in this dorm precedes you. I wish I
could use this thing on all of the macho assholes living in this dorm
if it meant keeping the hallways and lobbies safe."
"But a curling iron? Come on!" Corey snapped.
Andrea paused dramatically. Her face slowly acquired a devilish
glow. From beneath her anger, she summoned a smile, as if she was
nearing the part of the plan that appealed to her most. With an air
of melodrama, she spoke.
"Well, Corey, now that I think about it, I may have a couple
of devices left over from the Halloween party last month that might
come in handy for administering your punishment." Andrea was soon
rummaging through her closet as Corey began to sweat. After a minute
of search, Andrea found the objects of her search. "Aha! I found the
little devils!"
She turned around slowly to reveal the large Indian head dress
that she was holding. Her free hand was slowly ruffling the many
airy-looking, multi-coloured feathers that were attached. As if in
deep study over the native artifact, Andrea's eyes combed the plumes
as she began to tell a story.
"You know, Corey," she began, "a hundred years ago, when
Indian tribes captured U.S. calvarymen and wanted to make them talk,
the instruments they used to loosen their tongues were always within
arm's reach. They usually tied them down, bow-string tight, naked,
between two stakes in a quiet teepee on the outskirts of the village.
They sent in a few angry young tribeswomen who had lost their warrior
husbands to the U.S.-Indian conflicts, and let them vent their
frustrations out on the calvarymen. Do you know what they did to
them?" She paused to pluck from the head dress, two carefully
selected feathers, one white, one red. Both were longer and stiffer
than the rest. Dropping the head dress to the floor, Andrea then
lifted her head and trained her widening eyes on Corey. She whispered,
barely moving her lips as she twirled the feather stems between her
fingertips. "They tickled them," she said.
Corey stared at her, speechless. Tickling? They were actually
going to tickle him? The thought evoked countless images in his
mind. He couldn't decide whether he was relieved or not. The thought
of a curling iron was abominable, but had these girls taken the
trouble to find out from someone as to how ticklish he was?
Marcie took the white feather from Andrea. As if both girls had
previously rehearsed their parts, they pulled up two chairs in
synchrony on either side of Corey's exposed underarms, ribs and
sides. They then leaned forward with their long stiff-looking
feathers poised. Corey began to struggle again, and no sooner had
he started did he feel the tip of Andrea's red feather trailing down
the side of his neck. The feather then traced a line from his neck,
down onto his shoulder and finally onto his chest.
"Cut it out!" He yelled, trying to sound authoritative. His
struggling was minimal, however. He knew that as long as they used
only the feathers, the torture could prove to be quite enjoyable. The
application of another feather, a white one on his side, caused Corey
to jump.
"My, my," remarked Marcie in a mock serious tone, "he seems a
bit jumpy."
For the next twenty minutes or so, for he lost all track of time,
Andrea and Marcie had Corey writhing and gasping in the hot seat.
Seated on either side of his helpless body, they leisurely trailed the
terrible plumes all over every square inch of his ribs, sides,
stomach, face and legs. The girls' levity, good humour, and
unwillingness to really make him suffer allowed Corey to relax and
enjoy his little torture. It was simply incredible as to how aroused
he was getting from the work of their flicking feathers. He had been
reasonably hard from the first few strokes. During the whole ordeal,
Andrea and Marcie sat calmly, facing one another, and exchanged trade
secrets on various tickling techniques. Andrea seemed to possess an
instinct when it came to knowing what kinds of feathers to use on
ertain body parts and the most wicked forms of execution. Marcie had
an uncanny knack for finding secret ticklish spots that even Corey was
unaware of.
"Goodness!" Marcie would exclaim. "Andrea, I found another
danger zone. Come over here and help me on this one rib."
The tickle session continued.
"Enjoying yourself, Corey?" Marcie asked. She guided the tip of
her feather into his armpit, making Corey gasp and then groan. She
giggled mischievously. "I know a guy who likes to be tickled when I
see one."
Corey closed his eyes after some time and reveled in the light
airy attacks on his ticklish flesh. He was so intoxicated with the
sensations that he didn't notice Andrea taking a seat on the floor
between his parted legs. He detected her presence soon enough, when
he suddenly felt a very welcome sensation on his most sensitive
extremity, a sensation he hoped would materialize eventually. He
gasped loudly, every muscle in his naked body stiffening as the soft
tendrils of a lone red feather grazed lazily along the bottom length
of his erect cock. Groaning heavily, he opened his eyes to see Andrea
staring up at him with a wicked gleam in her eye, pulling the feather
ever so slowly along his exposed manhood. Marcie soon occupied a seat
beside her fellow temptress, and giggling with glee, they trained
their colorful feathers on his throbbing organ. Flicking back and
forth and tracing lines with those terrible plumes brought Corey to
the brink of orgasm after a mere minute of intense featherplay.
Andrea had been using long, slow strokes along the surface of his
engorged cock, utilizing the entire length of one side of the
feather. Marcie had concentrated the tip of her feather around and
underneath the hyper-sensitive head of his cock.
And then suddenly......it all stopped.
Corey opened his eyes and looked down at his throbbing cock,
pulsating up and down with the vestiges of an orgasm which was denied
him. He noticed a change of expression on the faces of Andrea and
Marcie. They were no longer smiling.
"You didn't think you were going to get off that easy, did you?"
Andrea asked, almost hissing out the words.
Before Corey had a chance to say anything, Andrea took her
feather and trained it on a new area of attack. This time, instead of
a light pleasurable sensation, the touch of the feather came like an
electric shock, prompting Corey to shout uncontrollably. The force of
the 'shock' caused him to rock the chair back on its hind legs, nearly
toppling him. He looked down in time to see Andrea slowly creeping
up on that forbidden ticklish area a second time, a look of mischief
in her eyes as she twirled the stem of the feather between her thumb
and forefinger at a high speed. Marcie grabbed the front legs of the
chair, putting her weight down on them to prevent Corey from falling
backwards.
"Christ, not there!!" Corey half-pleaded. "That's too sensitive!!"
The tip of Andrea's feather was still twirling between her fingers
as it connected once again with the base of Corey's helpless hanging
balls. At the same time, his entire body bolted upwards as far as his
bonds would allow. He roared in protest, and started a desperate
struggle with every ounce of energy left within him. The prior
tickling had left him dopey and almost listless. He threatened the
girls with all sorts of revenge, but they merely continued, forcing
him to endure what could not be endured for however long they wished
to prolong it. Marcie's feather was soon tickling away along side
Andrea's, each tormentor now having her own trembling testicle to
tickle. Lightly, ever so lightly, the feathers whispered over his
balls. One feather would begin to trace a line from a point between
his anus and his balls, travel over his wildly shaking genitals, and
then make its torturous journey back. The other feather was intent
on driving Corey stark raving mad by concentrating a steady barrage
of tickling to one designated area on the surface of one testicle.
Poor Corey was wrenching himself forcefully in every direction
the nylon bonds would allow, trying to give himself even a moment's
release from the punishment by tightening his muscles and clenching
his jaw. Amazingly enough, for a young man as ticklish as he was,
Corey stubbornly refused to satisfy Andrea's and Marcie's desires by
either laughing or begging for mercy. He swore, threatened, and even
promised them some equal form of revenge, knowing that if he could
just put up with a few more minutes of their featherwork, he would
gain some minor pleasure in not having given in. How wrong he was.
The delicate feathers were only meant as a mere warm-up for much more
devious tickling devices.
"Beg!" Marcie demanded. "Beg for forgiveness and for whatever
is left of your sanity!"
"Fuck yourselves!" Corey roared with a last bit of energy. "You're
not getting anything out of me!"
Andrea tossed the feather over her shoulder. "That does it.
No more special treatment. You see these beautifully manicured nails,
Corey?" Andrea held her hand up and wiggled her long pink-painted
fingernails in front of Corey's face. Before Corey could do or say
anything, Andrea placed her fingers in a spider-like fashion on his
right knee, and then slowly walked them, or scuttled them, across his
inner thigh and towards his perspiring balls. Corey could only gasp
in terror as the nails lightly scratched the surface of his thigh,
each nail delivering the devastating tickling power of a hundred
feathers.
"Here comes 'Giggles' the Dancing Spider!" Andrea teased.
"And he's going to perform a long.....LONG dance number.......right
..........here."
The young man's macho arrogance and defiance dissolved
in an instant as Andrea's long nails began teasing his jiggling
balls. Corey was left breathless as he let forth a howl of
unmitigated agony that tapered off into whoops of uncontrollable
laughter. Andrea and Marcie broke out into slow, satisfied grins.
There was no question as to who held the upper hand at this stage.
The fingernails of the 'upper hand' were executing a steady barrage of
testicle tickling.
Corey shrieked with laughter that was very unbecoming for a male.
He whipped his head from side to side. There was no hope in Hell of
keeping his composure now. From the moment he had been forced to
endure the feather-tickling of his balls, he had kept a watchful eye
on Andrea's deadly pink nails, hoping to God she wasn't aware of how
dangerous a tickling device they might be. For a while, it had looked
as if he was home-free as far as those nails were concerned. Pity.
As Andrea tickled and Corey roared with laughter, Marcie stood
up and looked the captive in his tear-stained face. Her face conveyed
a look of mock bewilderment. "My goodness Corey, what is so terribly
funny? It must be quite some joke you're thinking of! Care to share
the mirth?"
Corey attempted to blurt out a plea for forgiveness, but the words
came out as unintelligible mumbo-jumbo, a babbling string of guffaws
and shrieks of half-words, half-laughter. He was wasting his energy
by plea bargaining anyway. That chance had long since passed.
Marcie's face lit up as if in understanding. "Oooohh, I get it
Andrea. I think Corey's trying to tell us that he's ticklish!"
Marcie then assumed a place behind Corey and pulled up a chair.
She leaned her chin on his shoulder and cooed in his ear. "How
about here?" She asked in a inquisitive tone. She reached around him
with both arms and applied her fingertips to his exposed ribs. Corey
was still laughing and shaking as Andrea concentrated her nails on his
balls. Four fingers for each ball. "Hmmmm? How about here?" Marcie
repeated. "Are you ticklish here?"
Ten fingers began to dance briskly upon both sides of his rib
cage. Corey could barely respond to this fresh attack with a louder
level of laughter and a sudden arch in his back. He was pretty much
exhausted from the ongoing tickling of his balls to respond much
urther. Corey was about to muster up enough strength to attempt
another plea bargain when a single phantom nail from Andrea's hand
began tracing a path along the sole of his bare foot. Within seconds,
the nail had evolved into four that tormented his arch extensively
before finding their way between his toes.
"MY GOD!! N-n-nooo! Enough! Christ! I've had enough!! Just
s-stay away from my f-f-feeeetttt!!!" Corey pleaded. His body shook
desperately against the bonds which held his arms behind his head and
his ankles secured to the chair legs. Ten soft fingertips dug into
his ribs from behind, rubbing with a severity that could only be
ffected by an angry woman. Andrea continued to glide her nails across
the soles of Corey's captive feet, alternating between left and right
while her other hand tortured him between his thighs. The wide-eyed
look on her grinning face was near demonic.
"Ticklish feet, Corey?" Andrea said with her head cocked
sarcastically. "My, my, what a ticklish little boy you are. I
certainly wouldn't have expected a REAL man to be so sensitive to
touch, would you?"
"Oh God!! Jesus Christ!! Please s-stop! You've gone too
far!! I'll do anything you say!!!" Corey screamed in a moment of
desperation. "I've got money with me! T-t-take my wallet!! Take
it!!"
"I plan to do just that," came the voice from behind. "You've
caused quite a bit of monetary damage and you're literally going to
pay for your idiotic prank, after we get through extracting a similar
price through torture. I'll bet this is quite embarrassing for you,
eh? Poor little boy....'tickle-tickle-tickle!!'"
Poor Corey. Some people pay for things through the nose.
Corey was paying for something through his sensitive balls, ribs and
feet. With all this being too much to handle, Corey passed out after
five more minutes of unrelenting torment.
Sometime later that evening, or early morning, Corey opened
his eyes and slowly lifted his head in time to see the two women
emptying his wallet. His breathing had returned to normal, and
although he was exhausted, he had somehow slept long enough to feel
a bit rested. The parts of his body which had been attacked still
tingled madly. He must have been out for some time. As the girls
talked with their backs to him, Corey looked down to notice that his
hard-on had endured. The cruel tickling had aroused him in some
strange way. How odd, he thought, to be aroused by something that
only a short while ago was his worst nightmare.
The girls turned and began to untie Corey when Marcie giggled
and pointed at his erection.
"Still hard after all that?" Marcie teased. "I told you I know a
guy who likes to be tickled when I see one."
Andrea snickered at the sight of his erect cock and knelt down
close to it so that her pouting lips were mere inches away from it.
"How about it, Corey, you feel like getting off?"
Corey could barely whisper his desire to do so.
Andrea's face grew stern, and then she swatted his cock in a
sideways fashion. "You should be so fucking lucky. Untie him Marcie."
On that note, Corey was freed and ushered out of the room,
half-dressed and barely able to contain his anger and humiliation.
Part of him wanted to slap them silly. Later, he couldn't figure out
why he didn't. Hastily, he made his way back to his own dorm room, l
ocked the door behind him, and jacked himself off with a few short
strokes. The force of the orgasm was enough to finish off the last of
his remaining energy. He fell asleep.
Within three weeks, Corey had resumed his otherwise normal life
as big man on campus. His social life was continually rewarding. In
between class assignments, he was able to attend most campus pub
nights and court the young nubile females that gathered there. As he
and his buddies pushed their way through the Friday night crowd, he
came upon a familiar face. It was Andrea, leaning against a wall and
talking to some hustler. Corey hadn't been able to get the girl off
his mind for three weeks, wondering what would transpire if and when
he crossed paths with her in the future. Now she stood before him.
She was dressed quite fetchingly in a bright-red summer dress
with matching spiked heels. Their eye contact was inevitable, and
harsh at first. However, their hostilities gave way to mutual grins
as they both realized how awkward such the encounter was. After
her friend had found another interest, she approached Corey and yelled
above the music into his ear.
"How are things going? Have you fully recovered?"
Corey laughed and replied. "After a couple of nights' sleep, I
was fine." He paused and looked around a bit nervously. "Look...
uh....I'm pretty sorry about that prank. I really am. Now that I've
had a chance to think about it, I guess I got what I deserved."
"You sure did," she said with a smirk. "You may have gotten
more than you deserved. Tickling someone is like eating peanuts....
once you've started, it's difficult to stop."
They continued to talk and laugh over the incident in a secluded
corner of the room. After an hour, and three or four drinks between
them, they eventually found a lot they shared in common. Perhaps he
wasn't such a jerk after all, she thought. Corey, in turn, found
Andrea quite approachable and friendly. He was still extremely
attracted to her, and that was why he hadn't reacted violently when
the girls untied him after his tickle torture.
It wasn't long before the subject turned to sex. Fifteen minutes
later, Corey and Andrea re-entered the same dorm room he had been
trapped in three weeks earlier. This time, the door closed and
locked, and Andrea immediately kicked off her heels and unbuttoned
her dress. She possessed a fiery look in her eyes, breathing heavily
as she quickly stripped down to her dark, athletic nakedness. This
was more like it, thought Corey! He frantically removed his own
clothing and within minutes, the two were inseparable.
Before long, Corey realized the complete story behind his
incredible attraction to Andrea. Three weeks ago, he had been able
for the first time to let down his dominant side and enjoy the
pleasure of being at the mercy of a dominant woman. This strange
new experience of combined bondage and tickling had become lodged in
his memory for ever in a way that was akin to losing his virginity a
second time. Over the past three weeks, he had masturbated to a
fantasy recapturing the events that had taken place earlier in that
very same room. Even now, as the aggressive black-haired beauty
grounded her hips into his and rode his thick cock, he freely
fantasized of being chained to a dungeon rack while Andrea tongued
and stroked his armpits, ribs and sides, all the while verbally
taunting him for being such a ticklish little boy.
Later, while they cuddled one another, Corey was able to admit to
Andrea that the prior tickling session had turned him on immensely.
"Oh it did, did it?" She replied. She gave him a playful poke in
the side which made him jump.
"Seriously," he continued. He paused and bit his lower lip while
he searched for words. With his next proposal ready, he wasn't sure
what reaction to expect from her. What if she hadn't really gotten
off on tickling him? He continued. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised
if I've developed a bit of a fetish as a result of that night."
"Really?" Andrea replied. She watched her cigarette smoke
spiral towards the ceiling.
There was a long pause before she spoke again, making Corey
wonder if she had understood his intentions. It was still very
difficult for him, a usually dominant male, to come right out and
voice a desire to be helpless, submissive, and in control of an
aggressive woman. Andrea then broke the silence with a question t
hat caused Corey's heart to skip a beat and made his limbs tremble.
"Would you like me to tie you to the bed and tickle you?"
Corey swallowed hard. His voice was suddenly hoarse. "Would
you mind that?"
"Not at all," she replied. As she got up from the bed, Corey
noticed that her taut, naked body still glimmered with sweat. She
appeared to be little moved by his request, as if it had been a
perfectly normal one that she filled regularly. As Corey would find
out later, Andrea had had a difficult time convincing Marcie that
subjecting Corey to tickle torture would be the perfect retribution
for the destruction of her things. It wasn't by mere chance that
Andrea had arrived at this conclusion. Unbeknownst to both Marcie
and Corey, Andrea had long been a mistress of the tickling arts, and
had already gained a great deal of first-hand knowledge on the power
of tickle torture in her early days of puberty. She turned to him
suddenly and spoke. "Actually, I've changed my mind."
Corey's heart fell.
"How would you like, instead, to be tied to the bed and tickled
while I ride you?" Andrea raised her definitive eyebrows at him.
Minutes later, Corey's ankles were expertly tied together and s
ecured with the loose end to the underside of the bed frame. His
wrists were tied in the same fashion over his head. He was stretched
bow-string tight without more than an inch on either side to
struggle. All this was done with what looked like the same nylon she
Marcie had used to tie him up earlier. She then casually laid beside
his helpless body, her head resting on her free hand. The moist
fingertips of her other hand, which she periodically dipped into her
mouth, were drawing little wet circles on Corey's stomach. Corey was,
of course, immediately delirious from the teasing, arching his back,
groaning, and rapidly acquiring a massive erection.
"You know," said Andrea, "I remember tying up and tickling this
guy named Corey a few weeks ago."
"Yeah?" Corey replied, gasping.
"Yeah. I really enjoyed getting my fingernails onto that poor guy's
ticklish balls and feet. You can't imagine the sense of power that a
woman can derive from such a simple touch, being able to control an
otherwise dominant, strong male with so little effort. You get me?"
Andrea wiggled her finger in his navel.
"Christ!!" Corey bucked against her touch. "Yes, yes! I
understand."
Andrea grinned devilishly. "I think it's about time I mounted my
victim." As a last precaution, so as not to disturb her neighbours,
Andrea gagged Corey by stuffing her still moist panties into his mouth.
She slowly eased herself down upon him and engulfed his hungry
cock. Once he was inside her, Andrea wasted no time in getting right
down to business. The moment she began slowly gyrating her hips in
all directions, her nimble fingers and nails touched down on his ribs
and began to tickle. Variating her attack, she worked her way up from
a single-finger method of rib-poking, to radiating the fingers of both
hands outwards to cover as much rib area as possible, rapidly moving
her strong fingertips. Andrea's combined talents of tickling and
grinding took a surprisingly short time to bring about their
inevitable results. Within the brief three or five minutes that
spanned his second ticklish situation, Corey, bound and gagged,
writhed around, bucked upwards wildly, and thrashed from side to side
as much as he could under the 120 pounds or so of female weight
bearing down on top of him. He screamed continuously as much as
he could through her panties, and he more than once wondered whether
or not he could tolerate much more. He certainly wished he could!
For the second time in three weeks, Corey was Andrea's ticklish,
humiliated slave. His heart pumped away madly, barely able to survive
the onslaught of so much unbearable pleasure. He wanted to wrench
his hands free to stop her fingerwork, but he could do nothing of the
kind. At times, when she periodically stepped up her fingering
intensity to relish in his exaggerated reaction, he wanted to rock her
sexy body off of him, but she had her feet hooked around his thighs,
and her warm, delicious pussy surrounding his cock.
At one point, he was able to stop whipping his head from side to
side long enough to glance up at the glowing face of his tormentor in
an attempt to plea bargain with his eyes. He saw that she was
smirking slightly. Hers was almost a look of disinterest, as if the
ravaging work of her fingers and evil pink nails required no further
effort on her part than if she was typing her own name. Her haughty,
half-sleepy expression was the last straw to put him over the edge.
Somewhere, buried deep within all that intense and varied stimulation,
came an all-too-familiar and overwhelming feeling that crept up from
within his spasmodic musculature, evolving into an orgasm of almost
dangerous proportions. It was this orgasm that would make a tickle
devotee out of Corey for the rest of his life.
When Andrea became certain as to the exact onset of Corey's
orgasm, she let loose with a full dose of stimulation to his cock and
ribs. As she sped up the pumping action of her warm, wet pussy, and
increased the intensity of her rib-tickling to a fever pitch, she drew
her face closer to her victim's ear and repeatedly purred the words
over and over again:
"Kitchy-kitchy-koo! Kitchy-kitchy-koo! Kitchy-kitchy-kitchy
kitchy-kitchy-kitchy-koo!!"
With a long and drawn-out muffled roar, Corey nearly passed
out as he exploded inside his torturer, who busily worked his ribs and
sides over throughout his dizzying climax. Thrust after thrust, his
orgasmic contractions shook the bed and forced the head board into
the wall. Their bodies slammed together as Corey lost all muscular
control to his contractions. It seemed as if every fluid in his body
had transformed into semen at that pivotal moment. Each tickle,
each thrust and orgasmic jolt sent the head board banging into the
wall and forced yet another muffled howl of ecstasy out of Corey.
Andrea was barely able to straddle his spasmodic body, though
she gleefully continued her orgasm-inducing attack. Corey's
uncontrollable movements had upset her balance, causing her upper body
to fall against his. Her hands had been so busy tickling that she
hadn't had time to brace herself. As she clamped one hand onto the
underside of the creaking bed, she used her other hand to rub the poor
man's ribs. He was nearing the end of his prolonged climax when she
grabbed his head and forced him to face her. When their gazes were
locked on one another, she widened her green eyes innocently and
began to sing a childish melody in an incredibly teasing manner,
keeping in rhythm with her fingers as she poked his ribs.
"Corey is tick-lish! Corey is tick-lish! Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!
Tickle! Tickle! Tickle! Tick-lish!!"
Minutes later, with Andrea still seated on top of him, Corey
began to regain his composure. He opened his eyes and gazed up
at his pretty tormentor. He was confronted with a look of mock anger.
"HHhmmmm," She murmured. "I wasn't counting on your
coming so quickly before I had a chance to do the same. I don't
remember giving you permission to come." She put on a mischievous
grin. "I guess you're going to have to enroll as one of my permanent
tickle slaves if you are to learn anything from this kind of
misdemeanor." She locked her fingers together to loosen them up and
then wiggled them briskly in the air. "Now, let's see," she said in
a serious tone. "How unbearable will the tickling have to be this
time in order to get you hard again?"
Corey's eyes widened as he realized that Andrea had every
ntention of carrying out such a proposal. He shut his eyes tightly,
braced himself, and flinched as the first fingernail of 'round two'
trailed in a zig-zag motion across his ribs...............
Thanks for this one as well.
Smade
By Brandon
Corey was the mastermind behind the plan. It was just the
prank to get even with that stuck-up little bitch, Marcie. She had
been resisting his and every other male's advances for the better part
of a year on campus. Her unwillingness infuriated Corey all the more,
considering she never turned anyone down without first teasing them
half senseless. Whether it was the way she danced at the campus pubs,
or the seductive way she smiled, she always punctuated her coy nature
with some show of public teasing. Late one night, Corey and a couple
of buddies decided that Marcie was well overdue for a little
punishment. They arrived at her dorm, armed only with garbage bags
and a cafeteria serving tray. After locating the washroom on her
floor, they filled the garbage bags with water and headed for Marcie's
room. They didn't bother knocking. The water would be enough to
signal their presence. By slipping the edge of the serving tray under
the door, they created a makeshift slide for the five to ten gallons
of water that was poured under her door. Without waiting to find out
whether she was home, the men quickly took to the stairs, reveling
over their deed. Within a few weeks, Corey had all but forgotten
about the incident. There was a rumor that he was involved in the
act, but no solid evidence to convict him.
Corey was later at a campus dance when he met Andrea.
She was above average in height with long, straight black hair, dark
eyes, and an olive complexion. Her definitive eyebrows gave her an
almost dangerous, slightly vampiric look. The minute Corey laid eyes
on her, he decided to do everything in his power to attain her for the
evening. He worked his usual charm, for their precursory
introductions and small talk quickly evolved into something of a more
sensual nature. Before long, their hot talk landed them both in
Andrea's dorm room in the building next door. After undressing each
other by candlelight, and teasing each other relentlessly for about
half an hour, Andrea got up from the bed and retrieved some old nylons
from her closet.
"What are they for?" Corey asked.
"Enough of this kid's stuff," replied Andrea, "I'm going to tie you
up."
Corey appeared wary about the idea, and stated so.
Andrea just smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. It's a major fantasy
of mine. I've done it with tons of guys. You'll never know what you
might have missed until you experience a blow-job while tied up."
Corey didn't need a second invitation.
Ten minutes later, Corey was firmly secured to a high-backed chair.
His ankles were bound to the chair legs immediately behind them.
Because of the extended width of the chair seat, his legs were parted
beyond his will. His wrists were tied together, pulled over and
behind his head, and secured with some loose nylon slack to the back
of the chair. There was even a nylon that fastened his waist to the
chair back. The front part of the seat area was smaller than average,
causing his balls to hang gently over the edge. Corey wasn't immobile
for more than a minute when there came a knock on the door.
Andrea stopped checking the bonds around his ankles and
looked at Corey with a sly look in her eyes. "Sounds like we have
some company," she whispered.
The door opened, and in walked Marcie. Corey's mouth dropped
open at the sight of her. This was the last person he could afford to
be caught helpless in front of! Andrea simply locked the door behind
her new visitor. The sound of the lock seemed to echo in Corey's
ears. Marcie sauntered over and slapped Corey across the face.
"I've been waiting to do that for three weeks, you fucker!"
Marcie hissed. "You managed to flood a hope chest with your childish
prank and ruin keepsakes I'd been saving for years."
Corey, his face stinging from the impact of Marcie's hand,
cursed and struggled to free himself from the bonds. Unfortunately,
Andrea had performed an expert job of bondage.
Marcie motioned to Andrea. "Oh, by the way, I see you've met
Andrea, my lovely friend from back home?"
"Yes, pleased to meet you," Corey mumbled sarcastically.
What do you think, Marcie?" Andrea asked. "Is it about time
we taught Corey a painful lesson in B&D?" She looked the captive male
up an down, and snickered. "And to think you fell for that old
'blow-job-and-bondage' gag."
Marcie grabbed a handful of Corey's hair and looked him
sternly in the face. "My things were permanently ruined, gifts from
my parents, from old boyfriends, from my dead grandparents. None of
those things can be replaced."
"You received gifts from your dead grandparents?" Corey inquired
with
a straight face. "Were they as generous when they were alive?"
Marcie's eyes widened in rage, and was about to strike Corey
again when Andrea stopped her. Corey watched as Andrea walked over to
her bureau and produced a curling iron from the drawer. She placed it
on the bureau and switched it on. Corey was first puzzled as to why
Andrea would be using a curling iron at such a late hour, and then
quickly understood full well the punitive uses that curling iron was
going to have. His eyes bulged in disbelief. Could they actually use
that diabolical device on him while he sat there helpless? Could they
actually be that cruel in punishing him over a trunk of keepsakes?
Andrea answered his thoughts. "We don't want you to think that
you're being punished merely for destroying someone's property. Your
reputation for harassing women in this dorm precedes you. I wish I
could use this thing on all of the macho assholes living in this dorm
if it meant keeping the hallways and lobbies safe."
"But a curling iron? Come on!" Corey snapped.
Andrea paused dramatically. Her face slowly acquired a devilish
glow. From beneath her anger, she summoned a smile, as if she was
nearing the part of the plan that appealed to her most. With an air
of melodrama, she spoke.
"Well, Corey, now that I think about it, I may have a couple
of devices left over from the Halloween party last month that might
come in handy for administering your punishment." Andrea was soon
rummaging through her closet as Corey began to sweat. After a minute
of search, Andrea found the objects of her search. "Aha! I found the
little devils!"
She turned around slowly to reveal the large Indian head dress
that she was holding. Her free hand was slowly ruffling the many
airy-looking, multi-coloured feathers that were attached. As if in
deep study over the native artifact, Andrea's eyes combed the plumes
as she began to tell a story.
"You know, Corey," she began, "a hundred years ago, when
Indian tribes captured U.S. calvarymen and wanted to make them talk,
the instruments they used to loosen their tongues were always within
arm's reach. They usually tied them down, bow-string tight, naked,
between two stakes in a quiet teepee on the outskirts of the village.
They sent in a few angry young tribeswomen who had lost their warrior
husbands to the U.S.-Indian conflicts, and let them vent their
frustrations out on the calvarymen. Do you know what they did to
them?" She paused to pluck from the head dress, two carefully
selected feathers, one white, one red. Both were longer and stiffer
than the rest. Dropping the head dress to the floor, Andrea then
lifted her head and trained her widening eyes on Corey. She whispered,
barely moving her lips as she twirled the feather stems between her
fingertips. "They tickled them," she said.
Corey stared at her, speechless. Tickling? They were actually
going to tickle him? The thought evoked countless images in his
mind. He couldn't decide whether he was relieved or not. The thought
of a curling iron was abominable, but had these girls taken the
trouble to find out from someone as to how ticklish he was?
Marcie took the white feather from Andrea. As if both girls had
previously rehearsed their parts, they pulled up two chairs in
synchrony on either side of Corey's exposed underarms, ribs and
sides. They then leaned forward with their long stiff-looking
feathers poised. Corey began to struggle again, and no sooner had
he started did he feel the tip of Andrea's red feather trailing down
the side of his neck. The feather then traced a line from his neck,
down onto his shoulder and finally onto his chest.
"Cut it out!" He yelled, trying to sound authoritative. His
struggling was minimal, however. He knew that as long as they used
only the feathers, the torture could prove to be quite enjoyable. The
application of another feather, a white one on his side, caused Corey
to jump.
"My, my," remarked Marcie in a mock serious tone, "he seems a
bit jumpy."
For the next twenty minutes or so, for he lost all track of time,
Andrea and Marcie had Corey writhing and gasping in the hot seat.
Seated on either side of his helpless body, they leisurely trailed the
terrible plumes all over every square inch of his ribs, sides,
stomach, face and legs. The girls' levity, good humour, and
unwillingness to really make him suffer allowed Corey to relax and
enjoy his little torture. It was simply incredible as to how aroused
he was getting from the work of their flicking feathers. He had been
reasonably hard from the first few strokes. During the whole ordeal,
Andrea and Marcie sat calmly, facing one another, and exchanged trade
secrets on various tickling techniques. Andrea seemed to possess an
instinct when it came to knowing what kinds of feathers to use on
ertain body parts and the most wicked forms of execution. Marcie had
an uncanny knack for finding secret ticklish spots that even Corey was
unaware of.
"Goodness!" Marcie would exclaim. "Andrea, I found another
danger zone. Come over here and help me on this one rib."
The tickle session continued.
"Enjoying yourself, Corey?" Marcie asked. She guided the tip of
her feather into his armpit, making Corey gasp and then groan. She
giggled mischievously. "I know a guy who likes to be tickled when I
see one."
Corey closed his eyes after some time and reveled in the light
airy attacks on his ticklish flesh. He was so intoxicated with the
sensations that he didn't notice Andrea taking a seat on the floor
between his parted legs. He detected her presence soon enough, when
he suddenly felt a very welcome sensation on his most sensitive
extremity, a sensation he hoped would materialize eventually. He
gasped loudly, every muscle in his naked body stiffening as the soft
tendrils of a lone red feather grazed lazily along the bottom length
of his erect cock. Groaning heavily, he opened his eyes to see Andrea
staring up at him with a wicked gleam in her eye, pulling the feather
ever so slowly along his exposed manhood. Marcie soon occupied a seat
beside her fellow temptress, and giggling with glee, they trained
their colorful feathers on his throbbing organ. Flicking back and
forth and tracing lines with those terrible plumes brought Corey to
the brink of orgasm after a mere minute of intense featherplay.
Andrea had been using long, slow strokes along the surface of his
engorged cock, utilizing the entire length of one side of the
feather. Marcie had concentrated the tip of her feather around and
underneath the hyper-sensitive head of his cock.
And then suddenly......it all stopped.
Corey opened his eyes and looked down at his throbbing cock,
pulsating up and down with the vestiges of an orgasm which was denied
him. He noticed a change of expression on the faces of Andrea and
Marcie. They were no longer smiling.
"You didn't think you were going to get off that easy, did you?"
Andrea asked, almost hissing out the words.
Before Corey had a chance to say anything, Andrea took her
feather and trained it on a new area of attack. This time, instead of
a light pleasurable sensation, the touch of the feather came like an
electric shock, prompting Corey to shout uncontrollably. The force of
the 'shock' caused him to rock the chair back on its hind legs, nearly
toppling him. He looked down in time to see Andrea slowly creeping
up on that forbidden ticklish area a second time, a look of mischief
in her eyes as she twirled the stem of the feather between her thumb
and forefinger at a high speed. Marcie grabbed the front legs of the
chair, putting her weight down on them to prevent Corey from falling
backwards.
"Christ, not there!!" Corey half-pleaded. "That's too sensitive!!"
The tip of Andrea's feather was still twirling between her fingers
as it connected once again with the base of Corey's helpless hanging
balls. At the same time, his entire body bolted upwards as far as his
bonds would allow. He roared in protest, and started a desperate
struggle with every ounce of energy left within him. The prior
tickling had left him dopey and almost listless. He threatened the
girls with all sorts of revenge, but they merely continued, forcing
him to endure what could not be endured for however long they wished
to prolong it. Marcie's feather was soon tickling away along side
Andrea's, each tormentor now having her own trembling testicle to
tickle. Lightly, ever so lightly, the feathers whispered over his
balls. One feather would begin to trace a line from a point between
his anus and his balls, travel over his wildly shaking genitals, and
then make its torturous journey back. The other feather was intent
on driving Corey stark raving mad by concentrating a steady barrage
of tickling to one designated area on the surface of one testicle.
Poor Corey was wrenching himself forcefully in every direction
the nylon bonds would allow, trying to give himself even a moment's
release from the punishment by tightening his muscles and clenching
his jaw. Amazingly enough, for a young man as ticklish as he was,
Corey stubbornly refused to satisfy Andrea's and Marcie's desires by
either laughing or begging for mercy. He swore, threatened, and even
promised them some equal form of revenge, knowing that if he could
just put up with a few more minutes of their featherwork, he would
gain some minor pleasure in not having given in. How wrong he was.
The delicate feathers were only meant as a mere warm-up for much more
devious tickling devices.
"Beg!" Marcie demanded. "Beg for forgiveness and for whatever
is left of your sanity!"
"Fuck yourselves!" Corey roared with a last bit of energy. "You're
not getting anything out of me!"
Andrea tossed the feather over her shoulder. "That does it.
No more special treatment. You see these beautifully manicured nails,
Corey?" Andrea held her hand up and wiggled her long pink-painted
fingernails in front of Corey's face. Before Corey could do or say
anything, Andrea placed her fingers in a spider-like fashion on his
right knee, and then slowly walked them, or scuttled them, across his
inner thigh and towards his perspiring balls. Corey could only gasp
in terror as the nails lightly scratched the surface of his thigh,
each nail delivering the devastating tickling power of a hundred
feathers.
"Here comes 'Giggles' the Dancing Spider!" Andrea teased.
"And he's going to perform a long.....LONG dance number.......right
..........here."
The young man's macho arrogance and defiance dissolved
in an instant as Andrea's long nails began teasing his jiggling
balls. Corey was left breathless as he let forth a howl of
unmitigated agony that tapered off into whoops of uncontrollable
laughter. Andrea and Marcie broke out into slow, satisfied grins.
There was no question as to who held the upper hand at this stage.
The fingernails of the 'upper hand' were executing a steady barrage of
testicle tickling.
Corey shrieked with laughter that was very unbecoming for a male.
He whipped his head from side to side. There was no hope in Hell of
keeping his composure now. From the moment he had been forced to
endure the feather-tickling of his balls, he had kept a watchful eye
on Andrea's deadly pink nails, hoping to God she wasn't aware of how
dangerous a tickling device they might be. For a while, it had looked
as if he was home-free as far as those nails were concerned. Pity.
As Andrea tickled and Corey roared with laughter, Marcie stood
up and looked the captive in his tear-stained face. Her face conveyed
a look of mock bewilderment. "My goodness Corey, what is so terribly
funny? It must be quite some joke you're thinking of! Care to share
the mirth?"
Corey attempted to blurt out a plea for forgiveness, but the words
came out as unintelligible mumbo-jumbo, a babbling string of guffaws
and shrieks of half-words, half-laughter. He was wasting his energy
by plea bargaining anyway. That chance had long since passed.
Marcie's face lit up as if in understanding. "Oooohh, I get it
Andrea. I think Corey's trying to tell us that he's ticklish!"
Marcie then assumed a place behind Corey and pulled up a chair.
She leaned her chin on his shoulder and cooed in his ear. "How
about here?" She asked in a inquisitive tone. She reached around him
with both arms and applied her fingertips to his exposed ribs. Corey
was still laughing and shaking as Andrea concentrated her nails on his
balls. Four fingers for each ball. "Hmmmm? How about here?" Marcie
repeated. "Are you ticklish here?"
Ten fingers began to dance briskly upon both sides of his rib
cage. Corey could barely respond to this fresh attack with a louder
level of laughter and a sudden arch in his back. He was pretty much
exhausted from the ongoing tickling of his balls to respond much
urther. Corey was about to muster up enough strength to attempt
another plea bargain when a single phantom nail from Andrea's hand
began tracing a path along the sole of his bare foot. Within seconds,
the nail had evolved into four that tormented his arch extensively
before finding their way between his toes.
"MY GOD!! N-n-nooo! Enough! Christ! I've had enough!! Just
s-stay away from my f-f-feeeetttt!!!" Corey pleaded. His body shook
desperately against the bonds which held his arms behind his head and
his ankles secured to the chair legs. Ten soft fingertips dug into
his ribs from behind, rubbing with a severity that could only be
ffected by an angry woman. Andrea continued to glide her nails across
the soles of Corey's captive feet, alternating between left and right
while her other hand tortured him between his thighs. The wide-eyed
look on her grinning face was near demonic.
"Ticklish feet, Corey?" Andrea said with her head cocked
sarcastically. "My, my, what a ticklish little boy you are. I
certainly wouldn't have expected a REAL man to be so sensitive to
touch, would you?"
"Oh God!! Jesus Christ!! Please s-stop! You've gone too
far!! I'll do anything you say!!!" Corey screamed in a moment of
desperation. "I've got money with me! T-t-take my wallet!! Take
it!!"
"I plan to do just that," came the voice from behind. "You've
caused quite a bit of monetary damage and you're literally going to
pay for your idiotic prank, after we get through extracting a similar
price through torture. I'll bet this is quite embarrassing for you,
eh? Poor little boy....'tickle-tickle-tickle!!'"
Poor Corey. Some people pay for things through the nose.
Corey was paying for something through his sensitive balls, ribs and
feet. With all this being too much to handle, Corey passed out after
five more minutes of unrelenting torment.
Sometime later that evening, or early morning, Corey opened
his eyes and slowly lifted his head in time to see the two women
emptying his wallet. His breathing had returned to normal, and
although he was exhausted, he had somehow slept long enough to feel
a bit rested. The parts of his body which had been attacked still
tingled madly. He must have been out for some time. As the girls
talked with their backs to him, Corey looked down to notice that his
hard-on had endured. The cruel tickling had aroused him in some
strange way. How odd, he thought, to be aroused by something that
only a short while ago was his worst nightmare.
The girls turned and began to untie Corey when Marcie giggled
and pointed at his erection.
"Still hard after all that?" Marcie teased. "I told you I know a
guy who likes to be tickled when I see one."
Andrea snickered at the sight of his erect cock and knelt down
close to it so that her pouting lips were mere inches away from it.
"How about it, Corey, you feel like getting off?"
Corey could barely whisper his desire to do so.
Andrea's face grew stern, and then she swatted his cock in a
sideways fashion. "You should be so fucking lucky. Untie him Marcie."
On that note, Corey was freed and ushered out of the room,
half-dressed and barely able to contain his anger and humiliation.
Part of him wanted to slap them silly. Later, he couldn't figure out
why he didn't. Hastily, he made his way back to his own dorm room, l
ocked the door behind him, and jacked himself off with a few short
strokes. The force of the orgasm was enough to finish off the last of
his remaining energy. He fell asleep.
Within three weeks, Corey had resumed his otherwise normal life
as big man on campus. His social life was continually rewarding. In
between class assignments, he was able to attend most campus pub
nights and court the young nubile females that gathered there. As he
and his buddies pushed their way through the Friday night crowd, he
came upon a familiar face. It was Andrea, leaning against a wall and
talking to some hustler. Corey hadn't been able to get the girl off
his mind for three weeks, wondering what would transpire if and when
he crossed paths with her in the future. Now she stood before him.
She was dressed quite fetchingly in a bright-red summer dress
with matching spiked heels. Their eye contact was inevitable, and
harsh at first. However, their hostilities gave way to mutual grins
as they both realized how awkward such the encounter was. After
her friend had found another interest, she approached Corey and yelled
above the music into his ear.
"How are things going? Have you fully recovered?"
Corey laughed and replied. "After a couple of nights' sleep, I
was fine." He paused and looked around a bit nervously. "Look...
uh....I'm pretty sorry about that prank. I really am. Now that I've
had a chance to think about it, I guess I got what I deserved."
"You sure did," she said with a smirk. "You may have gotten
more than you deserved. Tickling someone is like eating peanuts....
once you've started, it's difficult to stop."
They continued to talk and laugh over the incident in a secluded
corner of the room. After an hour, and three or four drinks between
them, they eventually found a lot they shared in common. Perhaps he
wasn't such a jerk after all, she thought. Corey, in turn, found
Andrea quite approachable and friendly. He was still extremely
attracted to her, and that was why he hadn't reacted violently when
the girls untied him after his tickle torture.
It wasn't long before the subject turned to sex. Fifteen minutes
later, Corey and Andrea re-entered the same dorm room he had been
trapped in three weeks earlier. This time, the door closed and
locked, and Andrea immediately kicked off her heels and unbuttoned
her dress. She possessed a fiery look in her eyes, breathing heavily
as she quickly stripped down to her dark, athletic nakedness. This
was more like it, thought Corey! He frantically removed his own
clothing and within minutes, the two were inseparable.
Before long, Corey realized the complete story behind his
incredible attraction to Andrea. Three weeks ago, he had been able
for the first time to let down his dominant side and enjoy the
pleasure of being at the mercy of a dominant woman. This strange
new experience of combined bondage and tickling had become lodged in
his memory for ever in a way that was akin to losing his virginity a
second time. Over the past three weeks, he had masturbated to a
fantasy recapturing the events that had taken place earlier in that
very same room. Even now, as the aggressive black-haired beauty
grounded her hips into his and rode his thick cock, he freely
fantasized of being chained to a dungeon rack while Andrea tongued
and stroked his armpits, ribs and sides, all the while verbally
taunting him for being such a ticklish little boy.
Later, while they cuddled one another, Corey was able to admit to
Andrea that the prior tickling session had turned him on immensely.
"Oh it did, did it?" She replied. She gave him a playful poke in
the side which made him jump.
"Seriously," he continued. He paused and bit his lower lip while
he searched for words. With his next proposal ready, he wasn't sure
what reaction to expect from her. What if she hadn't really gotten
off on tickling him? He continued. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised
if I've developed a bit of a fetish as a result of that night."
"Really?" Andrea replied. She watched her cigarette smoke
spiral towards the ceiling.
There was a long pause before she spoke again, making Corey
wonder if she had understood his intentions. It was still very
difficult for him, a usually dominant male, to come right out and
voice a desire to be helpless, submissive, and in control of an
aggressive woman. Andrea then broke the silence with a question t
hat caused Corey's heart to skip a beat and made his limbs tremble.
"Would you like me to tie you to the bed and tickle you?"
Corey swallowed hard. His voice was suddenly hoarse. "Would
you mind that?"
"Not at all," she replied. As she got up from the bed, Corey
noticed that her taut, naked body still glimmered with sweat. She
appeared to be little moved by his request, as if it had been a
perfectly normal one that she filled regularly. As Corey would find
out later, Andrea had had a difficult time convincing Marcie that
subjecting Corey to tickle torture would be the perfect retribution
for the destruction of her things. It wasn't by mere chance that
Andrea had arrived at this conclusion. Unbeknownst to both Marcie
and Corey, Andrea had long been a mistress of the tickling arts, and
had already gained a great deal of first-hand knowledge on the power
of tickle torture in her early days of puberty. She turned to him
suddenly and spoke. "Actually, I've changed my mind."
Corey's heart fell.
"How would you like, instead, to be tied to the bed and tickled
while I ride you?" Andrea raised her definitive eyebrows at him.
Minutes later, Corey's ankles were expertly tied together and s
ecured with the loose end to the underside of the bed frame. His
wrists were tied in the same fashion over his head. He was stretched
bow-string tight without more than an inch on either side to
struggle. All this was done with what looked like the same nylon she
Marcie had used to tie him up earlier. She then casually laid beside
his helpless body, her head resting on her free hand. The moist
fingertips of her other hand, which she periodically dipped into her
mouth, were drawing little wet circles on Corey's stomach. Corey was,
of course, immediately delirious from the teasing, arching his back,
groaning, and rapidly acquiring a massive erection.
"You know," said Andrea, "I remember tying up and tickling this
guy named Corey a few weeks ago."
"Yeah?" Corey replied, gasping.
"Yeah. I really enjoyed getting my fingernails onto that poor guy's
ticklish balls and feet. You can't imagine the sense of power that a
woman can derive from such a simple touch, being able to control an
otherwise dominant, strong male with so little effort. You get me?"
Andrea wiggled her finger in his navel.
"Christ!!" Corey bucked against her touch. "Yes, yes! I
understand."
Andrea grinned devilishly. "I think it's about time I mounted my
victim." As a last precaution, so as not to disturb her neighbours,
Andrea gagged Corey by stuffing her still moist panties into his mouth.
She slowly eased herself down upon him and engulfed his hungry
cock. Once he was inside her, Andrea wasted no time in getting right
down to business. The moment she began slowly gyrating her hips in
all directions, her nimble fingers and nails touched down on his ribs
and began to tickle. Variating her attack, she worked her way up from
a single-finger method of rib-poking, to radiating the fingers of both
hands outwards to cover as much rib area as possible, rapidly moving
her strong fingertips. Andrea's combined talents of tickling and
grinding took a surprisingly short time to bring about their
inevitable results. Within the brief three or five minutes that
spanned his second ticklish situation, Corey, bound and gagged,
writhed around, bucked upwards wildly, and thrashed from side to side
as much as he could under the 120 pounds or so of female weight
bearing down on top of him. He screamed continuously as much as
he could through her panties, and he more than once wondered whether
or not he could tolerate much more. He certainly wished he could!
For the second time in three weeks, Corey was Andrea's ticklish,
humiliated slave. His heart pumped away madly, barely able to survive
the onslaught of so much unbearable pleasure. He wanted to wrench
his hands free to stop her fingerwork, but he could do nothing of the
kind. At times, when she periodically stepped up her fingering
intensity to relish in his exaggerated reaction, he wanted to rock her
sexy body off of him, but she had her feet hooked around his thighs,
and her warm, delicious pussy surrounding his cock.
At one point, he was able to stop whipping his head from side to
side long enough to glance up at the glowing face of his tormentor in
an attempt to plea bargain with his eyes. He saw that she was
smirking slightly. Hers was almost a look of disinterest, as if the
ravaging work of her fingers and evil pink nails required no further
effort on her part than if she was typing her own name. Her haughty,
half-sleepy expression was the last straw to put him over the edge.
Somewhere, buried deep within all that intense and varied stimulation,
came an all-too-familiar and overwhelming feeling that crept up from
within his spasmodic musculature, evolving into an orgasm of almost
dangerous proportions. It was this orgasm that would make a tickle
devotee out of Corey for the rest of his life.
When Andrea became certain as to the exact onset of Corey's
orgasm, she let loose with a full dose of stimulation to his cock and
ribs. As she sped up the pumping action of her warm, wet pussy, and
increased the intensity of her rib-tickling to a fever pitch, she drew
her face closer to her victim's ear and repeatedly purred the words
over and over again:
"Kitchy-kitchy-koo! Kitchy-kitchy-koo! Kitchy-kitchy-kitchy
kitchy-kitchy-kitchy-koo!!"
With a long and drawn-out muffled roar, Corey nearly passed
out as he exploded inside his torturer, who busily worked his ribs and
sides over throughout his dizzying climax. Thrust after thrust, his
orgasmic contractions shook the bed and forced the head board into
the wall. Their bodies slammed together as Corey lost all muscular
control to his contractions. It seemed as if every fluid in his body
had transformed into semen at that pivotal moment. Each tickle,
each thrust and orgasmic jolt sent the head board banging into the
wall and forced yet another muffled howl of ecstasy out of Corey.
Andrea was barely able to straddle his spasmodic body, though
she gleefully continued her orgasm-inducing attack. Corey's
uncontrollable movements had upset her balance, causing her upper body
to fall against his. Her hands had been so busy tickling that she
hadn't had time to brace herself. As she clamped one hand onto the
underside of the creaking bed, she used her other hand to rub the poor
man's ribs. He was nearing the end of his prolonged climax when she
grabbed his head and forced him to face her. When their gazes were
locked on one another, she widened her green eyes innocently and
began to sing a childish melody in an incredibly teasing manner,
keeping in rhythm with her fingers as she poked his ribs.
"Corey is tick-lish! Corey is tick-lish! Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!
Tickle! Tickle! Tickle! Tick-lish!!"
Minutes later, with Andrea still seated on top of him, Corey
began to regain his composure. He opened his eyes and gazed up
at his pretty tormentor. He was confronted with a look of mock anger.
"HHhmmmm," She murmured. "I wasn't counting on your
coming so quickly before I had a chance to do the same. I don't
remember giving you permission to come." She put on a mischievous
grin. "I guess you're going to have to enroll as one of my permanent
tickle slaves if you are to learn anything from this kind of
misdemeanor." She locked her fingers together to loosen them up and
then wiggled them briskly in the air. "Now, let's see," she said in
a serious tone. "How unbearable will the tickling have to be this
time in order to get you hard again?"
Corey's eyes widened as he realized that Andrea had every
ntention of carrying out such a proposal. He shut his eyes tightly,
braced himself, and flinched as the first fingernail of 'round two'
trailed in a zig-zag motion across his ribs...............
Thanks for this one as well.
Smade
