Zaq!
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2006
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Obviously, I have a little time on my hands... suddenly, I post two stories in as many days in this forum. Hope my writing 'style' isn't too different for this group...
Susan was a curvy young brunette, in her first year of University, but relaxing during the long winter break from classes. The 5’ 3” beauty had chosen not to go home to her parents during break, but instead had decided to remain on campus, catching up on some reading and spending her time visiting some of the local Christmas markets.
She had just been minding her own business, reading her book and having a cup of tea alone in a small tea shop when she sensed she was being sized up by a tall gentlemen in his forties. She looked up briefly and smiled shyly; though he didn’t look too bad, he probably wasn’t her type. She turned her attention back to the book, and didn’t give him a second thought.
She should have paid a bit more attention. She might not have been in the situation she was in right now.
She only remembered everything going dark, all of a sudden. And the next thing she knew, she woke up in a small concrete cell with a splitting headache. Was that three or four days ago?
Susan’s world had changed a lot since then.
Whoever her tormentor was, he didn’t seem to care much about her personal comfort. She hadn’t seen her clothes in days, and she only had a very thin blanket in her chilly cell. And he made sure that her hands were always bound in front of her when she was in the cell. Sure, there was water and food in the morning and in the evening in her cell, but she was almost too exhausted to eat, especially in the evening.
Because each morning just after her meager breakfast, he would silently come to open the cell and lead her upstairs. Always to the same large room, and always without saying a word to her. And no amount of begging and pleading from her seemed to have any effect. She would quickly find herself strapped down to a table or a rack in a different and helpless position every morning. And once he started tickling her, he absolutely wouldn’t let up until she passed out. He used all sorts of things to wreak havoc on her poor frazzled nerves… he seemed to always favor feathers on the soles of her feet at the beginning of the day, but he would switch to more aggressive methods of torturing her soles as her overloaded nerves decreased in sensitivity or when his sadism increased.
And when she had been broken over and over again, crying and begging, her words no longer making sense, he would bring out the vibrating dildo. He would slowly and torturously apply the vibrator to her exposed clit, and force her to a teary orgasm. And right after he did, all of her nerves would seem to light up like a Christmas tree, her ticklishness returning to a heightened state. It seldom took long after that… her mind would shut down not long after he started back in on her desperately wiggling soles. She had passed out at least twice each day. It was the only rest she ever got during her sessions… she never even saw him pause to eat or drink anything. He spent all his time with a feather, a Q-Tip, a horrifyingly stiff brush, or that damned electric toothbrush in his hand. Then when she woke up after passing out, her only brief respites from the torture, she found herself in yet another helpless position, usually more devious and restraining than the previous one. And she would endure the constant maddening tickling for hours, laughing and screaming herself hoarse, all the while praying that he would push her too far and that she would pass out again.
Probably the only way she knew that her suffering was about to end for the day would come when she was finally strapped to a strange looking tilted table in the far corner of the room. Each day she had been bathed in warm water, and he paid meticulous attention to making sure that she was clean before she was released from the table and returned to her cell. The warm water was welcome and soothing… it was the only kindness and the closest to pleasure she was ever allowed to receive during the day. But before she was carefully rinsed off, she did have to endure the application of the soapy brush all over her body. And he did know all her weak spots… and took great care to exploit them.
She had no idea how much longer she could stand it. She suspected her mind was already slowly unraveling as she waited in her cell, shivering silently under her blanket. Even the exhausted sleep she managed to get was being invaded by horrifyingly real dreams… dreams in which her body was stretched out in mid-air without any restraint, but without the ability to move a single muscle. And then the hands would appear from out of nowhere, digging into her underarms, moving up and down her ribcage, teasing her inner thighs and knees, sliding tickling fingers between her toes…
Breakfast had already been delivered and picked through. She heard the key in the lock upstairs. She started to panic a little as she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
And this time, as she was being secured face down to what looked like a padded and oversized saw horse, she could see that her tormentor had yet another surprise in store for her. She yelped and bit at his fingers as a rubber ball gag was shoved into her mouth. Things were getting really bad for her when he no longer cared to hear her pleas and screams.
And when he made eye contact with her, showing her both the feather in his hand and the small loops of rope that he would be using to tie her toes, she began to cry softly…
Desperately Being Susan
Susan was a curvy young brunette, in her first year of University, but relaxing during the long winter break from classes. The 5’ 3” beauty had chosen not to go home to her parents during break, but instead had decided to remain on campus, catching up on some reading and spending her time visiting some of the local Christmas markets.
She had just been minding her own business, reading her book and having a cup of tea alone in a small tea shop when she sensed she was being sized up by a tall gentlemen in his forties. She looked up briefly and smiled shyly; though he didn’t look too bad, he probably wasn’t her type. She turned her attention back to the book, and didn’t give him a second thought.
She should have paid a bit more attention. She might not have been in the situation she was in right now.
She only remembered everything going dark, all of a sudden. And the next thing she knew, she woke up in a small concrete cell with a splitting headache. Was that three or four days ago?
Susan’s world had changed a lot since then.
Whoever her tormentor was, he didn’t seem to care much about her personal comfort. She hadn’t seen her clothes in days, and she only had a very thin blanket in her chilly cell. And he made sure that her hands were always bound in front of her when she was in the cell. Sure, there was water and food in the morning and in the evening in her cell, but she was almost too exhausted to eat, especially in the evening.
Because each morning just after her meager breakfast, he would silently come to open the cell and lead her upstairs. Always to the same large room, and always without saying a word to her. And no amount of begging and pleading from her seemed to have any effect. She would quickly find herself strapped down to a table or a rack in a different and helpless position every morning. And once he started tickling her, he absolutely wouldn’t let up until she passed out. He used all sorts of things to wreak havoc on her poor frazzled nerves… he seemed to always favor feathers on the soles of her feet at the beginning of the day, but he would switch to more aggressive methods of torturing her soles as her overloaded nerves decreased in sensitivity or when his sadism increased.
And when she had been broken over and over again, crying and begging, her words no longer making sense, he would bring out the vibrating dildo. He would slowly and torturously apply the vibrator to her exposed clit, and force her to a teary orgasm. And right after he did, all of her nerves would seem to light up like a Christmas tree, her ticklishness returning to a heightened state. It seldom took long after that… her mind would shut down not long after he started back in on her desperately wiggling soles. She had passed out at least twice each day. It was the only rest she ever got during her sessions… she never even saw him pause to eat or drink anything. He spent all his time with a feather, a Q-Tip, a horrifyingly stiff brush, or that damned electric toothbrush in his hand. Then when she woke up after passing out, her only brief respites from the torture, she found herself in yet another helpless position, usually more devious and restraining than the previous one. And she would endure the constant maddening tickling for hours, laughing and screaming herself hoarse, all the while praying that he would push her too far and that she would pass out again.
Probably the only way she knew that her suffering was about to end for the day would come when she was finally strapped to a strange looking tilted table in the far corner of the room. Each day she had been bathed in warm water, and he paid meticulous attention to making sure that she was clean before she was released from the table and returned to her cell. The warm water was welcome and soothing… it was the only kindness and the closest to pleasure she was ever allowed to receive during the day. But before she was carefully rinsed off, she did have to endure the application of the soapy brush all over her body. And he did know all her weak spots… and took great care to exploit them.
She had no idea how much longer she could stand it. She suspected her mind was already slowly unraveling as she waited in her cell, shivering silently under her blanket. Even the exhausted sleep she managed to get was being invaded by horrifyingly real dreams… dreams in which her body was stretched out in mid-air without any restraint, but without the ability to move a single muscle. And then the hands would appear from out of nowhere, digging into her underarms, moving up and down her ribcage, teasing her inner thighs and knees, sliding tickling fingers between her toes…
Breakfast had already been delivered and picked through. She heard the key in the lock upstairs. She started to panic a little as she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
And this time, as she was being secured face down to what looked like a padded and oversized saw horse, she could see that her tormentor had yet another surprise in store for her. She yelped and bit at his fingers as a rubber ball gag was shoved into her mouth. Things were getting really bad for her when he no longer cared to hear her pleas and screams.
And when he made eye contact with her, showing her both the feather in his hand and the small loops of rope that he would be using to tie her toes, she began to cry softly…
