Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
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- Apr 17, 2001
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As Melissa entered the room, the thought of turning right back around crossed her mind for perhaps the ninth time in the last fifteen minutes. To say she was here of her own free will would be a little vague. Yes, she had the physical ability to turn tail and run, but it wouldn't do her any good. As she waited for the nameless man to enter the chamber (and there was little other way to refer to the dimly lit room), her mind wandered back to the conversation that set her on her current path.
"Melissa," said Sally, her boss and longtime friend, "You're going to have to get over this eventually. You're one of my best girls, and having a hard limit like yours just isn't good business in this day and age."
"I know, but...can't they just be given another option?" Melissa knew that her friend was only trying to help, but that didn't make it any better. Many other people in Sally's position would have let her go after the events of the last few months.
"Sweetie," Sally began again in a placating tone, "it's the 21st Century. The days of a date and a quick fuck have gone the way of the dinosaur. Our clients want more, they have specific tastes. With the media, literature and the Internet...men are wanting more bang for their buck, so to speak. Now, I know we set some reasonable limits, but I can't have one of my best girls refusing to do something that's become so popular."
"I can't even believe it has," Melissa replied, "I mean...spanking I can understand, and if some guy gets his rocks off by tying me up and calling me his Little Girl, hey...it's a few grand I didn't have at the beginning of the day....but tickling? Where the hell did this start coming from?"
"It's been around forever, hun...but it's been getting more popular of late. People are coming out of their shells, finding others, opening up. And face it...isn't it better than some guy wanting to beat the shit out of you?"
"Well....not really."
And she was right. Melissa had been living what one might call an alternate lifestyle for years. Her beauty, body and lack of interest in other more marketable talents had led her to a life of a call-girl. Escort. Whatever. She got paid to turn men on. Simple. And she was good at it. She even enjoyed it. A lot of the girls she worked with couldn't even stand men by the time they were working for a few weeks, but Melissa always enjoyed "getting her freak on" as she liked to call it. But over the last few months, more and more of her clients had wanted to restrain her and tickle her. It was the one thing that she just couldn't bear. Pain, within reason, was no problem. Humiliation, domination, submission...all of these things were weapons she wielded with precision and grace. But it was that one thing....
She'd lost a few of the business's long-standing clients in the past few months, and she'd probably be out on her ass if Sally wasn't such a generous person. What she was suggesting, though, was something she didn't know if she could go through with.
"Just try it," Sally guided, "I know this man very well, and he's a professional. I think you just need to experience something all the way to gain a new appreciation for it. You said yourself that you stopped your sessions before anything even really got started, right? Maybe you just need to cross that boundary you've set up in your head. If it doesn't work...maybe I can recommend you to another agency, but I can't promise they'll take you. We're the top of the heap here, and girls who don't work out with us usually don't fare well. I really want this to work for you, so just give it a try, ok? Please?"
So here she was.
The room itself was little more than a torture chamber. Not the kind of torture chamber you'd expect to see in a cheesy film or read about in a novel...but the kind of room that inspired dread by its sheer simplicity. There was a small set of drawers against the wall, a thin piece of furniture that was somewhere between a table and a bench...and a single hanging light. Sometimes real fear hid itself behind the things you imagine, not the ones you can see, and Melissa was learning this lesson first hand.
She started to undress, as she was instructed in the brief phone conversation she'd had with Sally's "friend" about an hour ago. Unlike the subtle dance that she'd made out of it for her clients, it was more like a peeling away of the protective layers around herself. She pulled the half-shirt over her head, feeling it brush over her ribs. Her long, straight blond hair fell back down after flowing with the fabric of the shirt. It was a move that, when done slower, usually brought sweat to a man's brow. Her angelic face was framed by the mane of blonde-white hair, her blue eyes reminiscent of the teenager she once was. As she undid the lace bra that contained her breasts, she ran her hands over them. Wondering what sensations they'd be feeling soon, she thanked herself siliently that she never got the enhancement she briefly considered. Many of the girls got it done when they started, but Sally had told her to forgo the procedure, as she'd regret it later. Her breasts were perfect as they were, she'd said. The fact that they were a tad smaller than she'd have liked for herself wasn't important, she was told. They were firm, high and perky. Tear-shaped and perfectly symmetrical, thier small pink nipples puckered in the slight chill of the room.
Melissa slipped out of the high-heeled shoes that encased her size 8 feet and slid her jeans down over her full hips and down her long legs. She hesitated as she fingered the elastic waistband of her thong panties. She was told before to remove these and replace them with the pair that would be left on the set of drawers. She hesitated...not out of any shame, she was long over that, but out of a sense of strange awe at the pair she was supposed to put on. She'd heard of fetish clothing like this, but had never actually seen them before. After freeing herself from her own clothing, she held up the black pair and stared at them.
Leather. Small. And with two protruing rubber lengths attached to the inside, pointing inward. One thick and long, the other shorter and thinner. She knew what these were for, but still had a bit of a time getting into them. After wriggling around a bit, she managed to encase herself in the hedonistic apparel. She felt a sensation of something like tingling crossed with a wierd cold as the rubber protrusions inside her vagina and anus moved about as she walked to the table. She was told to sit there on the bench and wait after changing. As she waited, she noticed the small wire running from her new panties and had a brief moment to wonder what it was for before the man of the hour entered the chamber.
He was about five foot seven, good-looking, but not awe-inspiring. In fact, he inspired little of anything. He was the type of guy you'd see a hundred times on the street and never even notice. Hair a little above his shoulders, common features, medium build. Everything about him screamed "Average". Perhaps she was expecting Mongo the Leather-Bound Sodomizer, becuase this guy just didn't seem the type to be a...what?...what do you call someone who does what he does for money? Oh, yes...
A Torturer.
"You may call me Alan," he said in a voice as average as the rest of him, "don't bother with all the 'Yes, Sir' stuff, and you don't have to kiss my shoes or anything. I'm here to help you. I will be in control, don't get me wrong, but we can dispense with the role-playing. I'm doing this as a favor to an old friend, this isn't a session. So, you're Melissa?"
"Y-Yes...yes I am." she spattered out. Alan's whole demeanor was counterpoint to everything she'd built up in her mind. She started to relax a little, but still knew what was to come.
"Ok, Melissa...why don't you start by lying down on the bench there, and we'll get you all comfortable."
Melissa reclined on the thin bench. It was only as wide as her own hips and about nine feet long. There were steel rings along the side of it.
"Ok, let's start here," Alan said as he began attaching leather straps to her ankles, "the first step is to make you completely immobile. I know that you've been in bondage before, but let's face it. Your average Joe doesn't know how to really tie a woman up any better than he knows how to travel through hyperspace."
Melissa felt a little of herself start to slip away as the straps lashed tight around her ankles and were fastened to the bench. Alan continued talking to her as he attached more straps to her shins and thighs, also clamping them tight to the padded wooden bench that was slowly becoming her tiny prison.
"What we are going to do to you...I mean FOR you...is going to require restraint of a type I usually reserve for more expreienced patrons of the erotic arts. Now, if you would raise your arms over your head please and grasp that small bar with your hands?"
Stretching her thin body as far as she could, Melissa grapsed a thin metal bar with both of her small hands. Alan wrapped her wrists in a single custom-molded strap and lashed them together. Flaps on the restraint were then laced together over her hands and fingers, sealing them tight, forcing her grip against the bar tighter. It was then that she heard the ratcheting sound of a small crank as her already taut body was pulled a few notches tighter. More straps were added around Melissa's forearms and biceps and then fastened to the bondage table.
Melissa's body was like a flesh-covered arrow. Perfectly straight and stretched to its limit of discernable comfort. She wasn't in pain, but pain was hanging outside the door, just waiting to be let in.
Movement was not an option.
"Comfortable, Melissa?" Alan asked as he ran his hand down her leg.
"Y-Yes..." she muttered.
"Good, now to add a few finishing touches..." he said as he placed small leather rings around both of her big toes. The thin leather strings attached to these rings were pulled back by the man and tied to rings embedded in the ankle restrints, arching Melissa's feet back and stretching her soles.
As he was working, Melissa was feeling the first real fear. She was nearing the point of no return. She still had time, she could still get away. All she had to do was tell him to let her go. But she was determined. She never backed down from anything, and she wasn't going to let this thing beat her. She strengthened her resolve to be the victor. She thought of her ticklishness as an adversary, one she was going to defeat. However, she had never felt so vulnerable in all her life...
...or so she thought.
When Alan was finished, he held something in front of her face. A thick leather gag. Not much more than a wide piece of stuffed leather with two straps on either end, but to a girl in her position, it looked rather evil. In fact, she realized that it was designed to do one thing and one thing only...take away the tiny bit of freedom she had left.
"Once this goes on," Alan said calmly, "you are trapped, do you understand? There will be no way for you to get out. The...exercize...will continue. Are you ready?"
Time crawled by. She could hear the very tick of the Universe as her eyes looked from the gag to the door. One or the other, lady, she told herself...
"Yes."
The leather was pressed between her lips. She bit down. The straps were not fastened behind her head as she'd thought they would be, but pulled through two rings on either side of her head. Pulled tight and tied in place, the gag not only silenced her, but kept her head pinned to the bench. She was his now.
"So," said Alan as he circled the bound blonde, "we have a bit of a problem being tickled?"
As he spoke, Melissa noticed the change. His averageness was his weapon, his disguise. Alan's voice dropped to a low drone, almost a solid hiss. He was going to enjoy this, she knew. He was here to help, but she knew that he was going to enjoy every blasted second of her ordeal.
"I would imagine that this would drive you nuts, then?" Alan said as he slid a single finger up her left sole. It was soon joined by another finger travelling up her right sole.
"MMMNNNGGGHHH!!!!" she mewed as the first bolts of sensation hit her. The muscles of her legs wanted nothing more than to pull up and curl under her body in response to the torment, but they were pinned hard and not going anywhere ans Alan added more fingers to her bared soles.
"The problem you have," he said as he began to pick up the pace of the foot-tickling, "is that you've never taken this all the way. You've never just let go. You stop before you know what happens next..."
Alan curled his fingers a bit and used the tips of his fingernails to trace circles around the tight soles of the helpless call-girl. As the muffled sounds of protest filtered through the gag, his fingertips found their way to the base of her toes. They worked side-to-side, the lightest touch teasing the virgin nerve-endings.
"MnnnHnnnHnnnHNNNNN!!!" Melissa yelped as electricity shot up her legs. It was just starting and already she wanted to beg for release. But she knew she was stuck. The feeling slammed into her brain as the unassuming man became a medieval torturer in her very prescence. The first beads of sweat appeared and her heart skipped a beat when the sound first hit her ears.
The sound of a tiny motor whirring to life.
From her vantage point, she was unable to see what was causing the noise, but her tormenter was more than happy to show it to her. It was a live electric toothbrush.
"You know where this is going, don't you?" he teased as her huge eyes grew to a size not previously considered possible. Teasing was part of it, he knew. She needed to be shocked, she needed to feel the tickling of the mind that came before the tickling of the flesh. "Bet you really want to escape, don't you?" he said as he slowly approached her feet, little by little leaving her plane on sight. "All strapped down with a torture implement getting closer to your feet with every passing second...you must be going insane..."
"MMMNNNNPPPHHH!!!!!...MMMMNNNDDDNNTTTPLLLLSSSS!!!!" Melissa tried to beg as she braced herself for the torment to come. As the time ticked by, she found herself wishing it to just happen already! And it was then that Alan's apparent latent psychic abilities came to light.
"You want me to just get on with it, don't you?"
"MMMNNGGHH!!!!"
"Good, the first step taken. You want it, rather than the anticipation. Wanting to be tickled for whatever reason is better than not wanting it at all, right? Remember this feeling, cling to it...you'll learn to relish it. So, without further ado....here....it.....commmeeessssss........"
Just when Melissa thought she was going to die from anticipation, the whirling bristles of the toothbrush struck her helpless sole. She'd never felt anything even close before. The tickling of her feet by Alan's fingers was nothing comapred the the sheer torture of the tiny bristles picking fights with every nerve ending in her feet. She swore she could feel every one of the little bastards finding a nerve, backing it up against a wall and jacking it like a mugger on a tourist. Her nerves never had a chance.
One long muffled scream fought its way around the gag as the twirling bristles ran laps around the track of her feet. Every toe was molested by the invading force, every tender space that rested between them probed mercilessly. Melissa felt the muscles in her legs scream in protest as the instinct in them was cut off by the cruel straps. It was a pressure almost. One that built and built until she was sure that her very skin would explode.
"Hmmmm.....seems to be having quite the effect, eh, Melissa?" Alan taunted as one hand controlled the horrible tool and the other tickled her foot wildly. Even her heels were not spared the torture as her body was wracked with spasms.
"MMMRRGGGHH!!!! MMMHmmm..HMMMM....HHMMMMMNNNGGHH!!!!" her protests were becoming stagerred as the first tears lost their hold on the corners of her blue eyes.
Then, it stopped. Her feet felt like sandpaper was still being drawn across the nerves, but even that ancilliary response was welcome compared to the awful torment of the tickling. But...
...she'd survived. In hindsight, it didn't go as far as she imagined. Sure, she felt like she was going to die while it was going on, but she didn't. The sensation, like pain, was just a memory now. She'd made it. Now, all he had to do was let her go, and she'd could try this with one of her clients and...
"You didn't think we were through yet, did you?" Alan asked, once again showing signs of psychic ability. In reality, though, he'd seen this before, he knew the drill. There were more steps in this little exercize...many more.
Melissa tugged against her bonds. He had to be finished, right? She took it, and she lived. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought. But she could see in his eyes that her lesson was only beginning. She wanted out, she was through. She'd quit, she didn't care. The gag kept the words firmly placed in her mouth, however, as Alan knelt next to her and brushed a stray lock from her face.
"Melissa, Melissa...you've only begun. Right now, you're thinking....let me the hell out of this, I'm done. But we agreed that you'd go through the whole thing...that's what the gag is for. You're mine for the duration, and I was asked to perform a service. It's out of your hands now."
With that, he ran a finger down her arm, starting at the wrist. Had she not been so thoroughly gagged, Melissa would have shrieked in surprise. But all that escaped was a muffled yelp. She felt electricity tingle along her arm as it trailed toward its obvious destination. Oh no, she thought, he wouldn't! Weren't the feet bad enough?!?! I have to get out of this before...
Too late. The trailing finger brushed over her tighly bared armpit, sending a shockwave down her body. It was on the return trip that the torture began in earnest. Not content with tormenting one smooth armpit, Alan reached over and began lightly fluttering the fingers of his other hand in the stretched recess of her other arm.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle...." Alan lightly sang as he ran his wriggling fingers over the hopelessly sensitive skin bared before him. With her biceps pinned like a classroom butterfly, her forearms the same and her hands wrapped tight, the skin under her arms was immobile. It was like a pad of paper under a pen, only able to recieve. And Alan's pen was writing a tale of torture. She could feel the sensations travel right to her hardened nipples.
"Such lovely breasts, my dear....may I?" Alan needlessly asked as he teased her by wriggling his fingers over the sexy mounds protruding from the stretched chest of the helpless girl. The pitiful pleas that stuttered through the gag proved useless against the hands that lightly stroked her tits, making small circles around the mounds before drawing sharply down their sides to fall once again into the pits under her ticklish arms. As the tickling increased, so did the intensity of Alan's ministrations.
The light touches became pokes and prods. One after the other like the stutter-fire of a machine gun, his fingers poked quickly, almost childishly, into her pits and down to her ribs. Each armpit was treated to a stiff finger pressing hard against the most sensitive spot there, and wriggling around....tickling with no mercy. Faster and faster she ws tickled until she thought her mind would break. It was like having a cold rod jammed between her armpits, passing through her brain in the process. She felt as if she were going to lose consciousness.
Sensing this with the knowledge of a true professional, Alan went back to the slow strokes over her flesh. The hard tickling stopped, but the light, feathery touches were still bringing goosebumps to the skin of the tied girl.
"I can't stop, you know" he said, "you need to go past your limit....you need to know exactly where it is, and then you need to go beyond."
Please, she was saying to herself, perhaps trying to form the words on the surface of her eyes so that he could understand....Please let me go! I can't take anymore, I'm dying! I made a mistake, and I want to go home!
"MnnnHmmm...Hmmm....MMmnngghh" was all that came out, though.
"I know what you're trying to say," Alan said as Melissa's heart jumped with brief hope, "you're trying to express how very grateful you are for learning your limits and experiencing these new sensations, right?"
Melissa's heart sank as she tried to at least shake her head back and forth, but the cunning gag made even that impossible. She was screwed.
"Do you know how sexy your body really is, my dear?" Alan continued to tease, "you have the tightest little tummy I've seen in a long time. I'll bet you're ticklish....here" and he poked her quickly in the waist, "and here..." another poke, "and here...." he continued. Each word punctuated by a poke to the hard muscle under the skin of her taut midriff and a squealing giggle from the tied girl.
"Oh, now she giggles! I must have found something you like, eh?"
Melissa tried again to shake her head, but could only continue to giggle. The stuttered giggles turned to gag-muffled laughter as the pokes turned to fluttery strokes along the flanks of her toned body. Alan's fingers were tracing evil lines along her sides. The incurve of her waist was quivering as he tickled her there for quite some time. One finger found its way into her navel as one hand continued to tickle along her flat belly.
The laughter was rolling now and the tears were welling in her eyes again. Would he never stop? How much more of this can I take before I just die? However, she was still awake, still alive...
...and crossing over into something she never expected. God help her, but she was getting a little used to this. It was torture, no doubt, but it seemed that she was reaching a point where she could actually deal with this. Her belly tickled and her sides quivered, but she was starting to think she'd live through this.
Until he reached her ribs.
There was no taunting. No build-up. Alan had lulled her into the playful tummy-tickling and took her to the next step of her indoctrination.
Shock.
His fingers dug into Melissa's ribcage. Ten wriggling fingers over counless square inches of ticklish flesh. The protruding bones were each given individual attention as Melissa screamed into her gag. The fingers became stiffer and moved faster. Had she not been strapped down so tightly, she most likely would have hit the ceiling with a force sufficient to liquify a brick. If she thought she had reached some sort of plateau, she was wrong. It was as if she'd never been tickled before. This was something that defied description. Her helpless body strained against the unforgiving straps as the tickling continued. If she could feel colors, this felt like a blue bolt. Over and over her pretty ribs were treated to the horrible torture. The immobile ribcage of a sexy young woman helpless and immobile aginst the tickling fingers of a man trianed in the arts of physical torment. After what seemed an eon, Alan desisted and stood back.
The bound and gagged girl was a true vision to him. Tight. Helpless. Nearly nude and gasping for breath. Quivering from the relentless torment. He knew she'd give her soul for release. The though of what he had planned next only made her appear more vulnerable. He bent over and unbuckled the gag, pulling it away from her lips.
She'd torn the leather. Her teehmarks were imbedded in the material.
"Better?"
"Y-yes.....I-....c-can't...takeanymore...(gasp)...p-please...no more...."
"Only one more step, and then you're finished. You have to associate tickling with pleasure if you're ever going to survive in your field."
"NO! Please!....I want to quit!...I-I....swear...."
"Melissa, Melissa," Alan said as he opened one of the drawers and removed a small black box the size of a cell-phone, "after everything you've survived, you want to quit now? Think of it. You're almost there. Nothing anyone out there will throw at you will compare to this. You'll be fine, and you might just discover something....unusual."
He took up the wire running from the devious panties encircling the girl's sexy hips. He attached it to the small box. He pushed a button.
Melissa almost jumped, had the restraints not prevented this. The rubber devices snugged inside of her began to lightly vibrate and rotate along the tiniest circular axis.
"Ohhhhh....I-I-....Ooooooo....O-ok.....th-this isn't.....aaahhh....b-bad...."
Her eyes closed and her head tipped back a bit. She was thankful that he hadn't let her go yet. She deserved a little reward for that, she felt. But she was soon brought back to reality...
"So, ready for more tickling?" Alan said quite bluntly.
"NO! Please! No More! I can't..." she breathed.
"Oh, you can, and you will. You'll like this....well, mostly...." Alan said as he approached her with clawed hands and an evil grin.
"Noooooo...." Melissa moaned.
"Kitchi Kitchi....." Alan teased as her scratched his nails against her sides.
"Hee Hee...Ooooooo...HAAHAAA...G-GODNO!!!!..." Mellisa was giggling betwen small bouts of pleasurable moaning.
"Would you like a little more.....speed?" Alan asked as he pulled a hand away from her midriff long enough to turn up the speed on the controls of her intimate vibrators.
"ooooOOOHHHH!!!!....AAAHHHHH.....Th-that's nice....that's wonderfuuuAAAAIIIGGHHHHHHH!!!!"
Her pleasure was cut off by a quick dig to her waist. Alan was slowly kneading the soft flesh. As the buzzing inside of her increased, so did the torment of her flat belly. As the vibrations started to have an irreversible effect on her, Alan's right hand cruelly discovered a soft area above her panty line and relentlessly tickled here there. Between the sensations spreading from her clitoris and the new kind of tickling over that previously untouched spot, she felt as if her belly were going to rupture. The feeling was building to something she simply couldn't take. The way he was tickling her side was especially evil, not really digging in, but not light. It was a smooth, even massage that tickled with every stroke. She was stuck between wishing it to lighten up or just dig the hell in already. The man was an artist.
"Ticklish right there, baby? Huh? Maybe here? Or here?" Alan teased as he tickled all over her middle. One spot was tickled as another was stroked. The muscle under her skin was poked and kneaded by a single finger, then those same fingers pinched her waist in a cruel hard tickle.
"OHGODNOOOOOO!!!!!PLEASESTOPPLEASESTOP!!!! AAAHAAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAAA....HEEHEHEHEHEE...ITTICKL ESITTICKLES......NOMORENOMOREPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE... ....HAAHAAHAAHAHAHAAIIGGHHHHNNOO!!!!"
Melissa was nothing more than a bundle of raw nerves and screams as Alan unleashed Hell in his final assault. He adjusted the vibrators to full power. The effect was visible on the tied girl immediatly. Part of him wanted to just let her come, she'd been through so much...but this was for her own good. She'd thank him later...
...they all did.
As the erotic panties pushed the helpless girl ever closer to what she prayed would be a consciousness-ending orgasm, Alan tickled her. Everywhere at once, it seemed. He was like a demonic massuer, encircling the bondage table and assaulting every ticklish spot he'd been mentally cataloging this past hour. The bondage allowed the slightest arch of her back as the vibrations were combined with insane foot-tickling. Her stretched soles were tickled, soon followed by her long legs. Alan continued his trip around the table, tickling her hips, her belly, her sides, her ribs, her armpits....all in a relentless attack as Melissa was pushed ever closer to something she had no contol over. She was screaming in tortured laughter mixed with brand-new feelings of lust.
"AAAAIIIGGHHH!!!!!!GODNOPLEASE!!!!!AAAAAAHHHHH....O OOOOHHHHH.....YOU"REINSANEPLEASESTOPTHIS!!!!!!!!!....HAAAHAHAHAHEEEH EHEHENONONONONONONOOOOO.....OOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Melissa was visiting a place she'd never been before. The feeling she had was nothing without the tickling, and she was just now becoming aware of this. With an almost auible click, Melissa felt...what?...converted? She wanted the tickling to stop, but she wanted it to continue. At last Alan grabbed her with both hands by the waist and dug in hard, tickling every last breath out of the struggling girl.
She couldn't hold back any longer. For all she knew, this could have been her first orgasm. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was like hot water spreading from her groin, up her belly, over her breasts and right through her soul. Alan stopped tickling her long enough to use his mouth on her nipples and his fingers over her crotch, adding to the sensation washing over her....she was transported to a plane she thought was reserved for saints after they pass through the gates....
*******************************
(Two weeks later.........)
The man was quite pleased with himself. The girl was well worth the money he'd spent, and she was nothing short of breathtaking as she laid on the bed, tied tighly to the posts. Her body was magnificent, and her whole demeanor was playing right into his fantasy.
"Are you comfortable, my dear?" he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Oh yes," Melissa replied in her coy voice, "just do me a favor?"
"And what would that be?" the man asked as he trailed a finger down her cheek.
"Please don't tickle me all tied up like this, ok? It really makes me lose control, and you wouldn't be that cruel would you?"
Man and girl exchanged knowing smiles as the fantasy played out.
"Oh, I would never do anything that evil....well, maybe just a little...." he said as he grabbed a stiff feather off the nightstand.
Melissa closed her eyes and silently gave thanks for her extraordinary new sensations to a rather average man.
"Melissa," said Sally, her boss and longtime friend, "You're going to have to get over this eventually. You're one of my best girls, and having a hard limit like yours just isn't good business in this day and age."
"I know, but...can't they just be given another option?" Melissa knew that her friend was only trying to help, but that didn't make it any better. Many other people in Sally's position would have let her go after the events of the last few months.
"Sweetie," Sally began again in a placating tone, "it's the 21st Century. The days of a date and a quick fuck have gone the way of the dinosaur. Our clients want more, they have specific tastes. With the media, literature and the Internet...men are wanting more bang for their buck, so to speak. Now, I know we set some reasonable limits, but I can't have one of my best girls refusing to do something that's become so popular."
"I can't even believe it has," Melissa replied, "I mean...spanking I can understand, and if some guy gets his rocks off by tying me up and calling me his Little Girl, hey...it's a few grand I didn't have at the beginning of the day....but tickling? Where the hell did this start coming from?"
"It's been around forever, hun...but it's been getting more popular of late. People are coming out of their shells, finding others, opening up. And face it...isn't it better than some guy wanting to beat the shit out of you?"
"Well....not really."
And she was right. Melissa had been living what one might call an alternate lifestyle for years. Her beauty, body and lack of interest in other more marketable talents had led her to a life of a call-girl. Escort. Whatever. She got paid to turn men on. Simple. And she was good at it. She even enjoyed it. A lot of the girls she worked with couldn't even stand men by the time they were working for a few weeks, but Melissa always enjoyed "getting her freak on" as she liked to call it. But over the last few months, more and more of her clients had wanted to restrain her and tickle her. It was the one thing that she just couldn't bear. Pain, within reason, was no problem. Humiliation, domination, submission...all of these things were weapons she wielded with precision and grace. But it was that one thing....
She'd lost a few of the business's long-standing clients in the past few months, and she'd probably be out on her ass if Sally wasn't such a generous person. What she was suggesting, though, was something she didn't know if she could go through with.
"Just try it," Sally guided, "I know this man very well, and he's a professional. I think you just need to experience something all the way to gain a new appreciation for it. You said yourself that you stopped your sessions before anything even really got started, right? Maybe you just need to cross that boundary you've set up in your head. If it doesn't work...maybe I can recommend you to another agency, but I can't promise they'll take you. We're the top of the heap here, and girls who don't work out with us usually don't fare well. I really want this to work for you, so just give it a try, ok? Please?"
So here she was.
The room itself was little more than a torture chamber. Not the kind of torture chamber you'd expect to see in a cheesy film or read about in a novel...but the kind of room that inspired dread by its sheer simplicity. There was a small set of drawers against the wall, a thin piece of furniture that was somewhere between a table and a bench...and a single hanging light. Sometimes real fear hid itself behind the things you imagine, not the ones you can see, and Melissa was learning this lesson first hand.
She started to undress, as she was instructed in the brief phone conversation she'd had with Sally's "friend" about an hour ago. Unlike the subtle dance that she'd made out of it for her clients, it was more like a peeling away of the protective layers around herself. She pulled the half-shirt over her head, feeling it brush over her ribs. Her long, straight blond hair fell back down after flowing with the fabric of the shirt. It was a move that, when done slower, usually brought sweat to a man's brow. Her angelic face was framed by the mane of blonde-white hair, her blue eyes reminiscent of the teenager she once was. As she undid the lace bra that contained her breasts, she ran her hands over them. Wondering what sensations they'd be feeling soon, she thanked herself siliently that she never got the enhancement she briefly considered. Many of the girls got it done when they started, but Sally had told her to forgo the procedure, as she'd regret it later. Her breasts were perfect as they were, she'd said. The fact that they were a tad smaller than she'd have liked for herself wasn't important, she was told. They were firm, high and perky. Tear-shaped and perfectly symmetrical, thier small pink nipples puckered in the slight chill of the room.
Melissa slipped out of the high-heeled shoes that encased her size 8 feet and slid her jeans down over her full hips and down her long legs. She hesitated as she fingered the elastic waistband of her thong panties. She was told before to remove these and replace them with the pair that would be left on the set of drawers. She hesitated...not out of any shame, she was long over that, but out of a sense of strange awe at the pair she was supposed to put on. She'd heard of fetish clothing like this, but had never actually seen them before. After freeing herself from her own clothing, she held up the black pair and stared at them.
Leather. Small. And with two protruing rubber lengths attached to the inside, pointing inward. One thick and long, the other shorter and thinner. She knew what these were for, but still had a bit of a time getting into them. After wriggling around a bit, she managed to encase herself in the hedonistic apparel. She felt a sensation of something like tingling crossed with a wierd cold as the rubber protrusions inside her vagina and anus moved about as she walked to the table. She was told to sit there on the bench and wait after changing. As she waited, she noticed the small wire running from her new panties and had a brief moment to wonder what it was for before the man of the hour entered the chamber.
He was about five foot seven, good-looking, but not awe-inspiring. In fact, he inspired little of anything. He was the type of guy you'd see a hundred times on the street and never even notice. Hair a little above his shoulders, common features, medium build. Everything about him screamed "Average". Perhaps she was expecting Mongo the Leather-Bound Sodomizer, becuase this guy just didn't seem the type to be a...what?...what do you call someone who does what he does for money? Oh, yes...
A Torturer.
"You may call me Alan," he said in a voice as average as the rest of him, "don't bother with all the 'Yes, Sir' stuff, and you don't have to kiss my shoes or anything. I'm here to help you. I will be in control, don't get me wrong, but we can dispense with the role-playing. I'm doing this as a favor to an old friend, this isn't a session. So, you're Melissa?"
"Y-Yes...yes I am." she spattered out. Alan's whole demeanor was counterpoint to everything she'd built up in her mind. She started to relax a little, but still knew what was to come.
"Ok, Melissa...why don't you start by lying down on the bench there, and we'll get you all comfortable."
Melissa reclined on the thin bench. It was only as wide as her own hips and about nine feet long. There were steel rings along the side of it.
"Ok, let's start here," Alan said as he began attaching leather straps to her ankles, "the first step is to make you completely immobile. I know that you've been in bondage before, but let's face it. Your average Joe doesn't know how to really tie a woman up any better than he knows how to travel through hyperspace."
Melissa felt a little of herself start to slip away as the straps lashed tight around her ankles and were fastened to the bench. Alan continued talking to her as he attached more straps to her shins and thighs, also clamping them tight to the padded wooden bench that was slowly becoming her tiny prison.
"What we are going to do to you...I mean FOR you...is going to require restraint of a type I usually reserve for more expreienced patrons of the erotic arts. Now, if you would raise your arms over your head please and grasp that small bar with your hands?"
Stretching her thin body as far as she could, Melissa grapsed a thin metal bar with both of her small hands. Alan wrapped her wrists in a single custom-molded strap and lashed them together. Flaps on the restraint were then laced together over her hands and fingers, sealing them tight, forcing her grip against the bar tighter. It was then that she heard the ratcheting sound of a small crank as her already taut body was pulled a few notches tighter. More straps were added around Melissa's forearms and biceps and then fastened to the bondage table.
Melissa's body was like a flesh-covered arrow. Perfectly straight and stretched to its limit of discernable comfort. She wasn't in pain, but pain was hanging outside the door, just waiting to be let in.
Movement was not an option.
"Comfortable, Melissa?" Alan asked as he ran his hand down her leg.
"Y-Yes..." she muttered.
"Good, now to add a few finishing touches..." he said as he placed small leather rings around both of her big toes. The thin leather strings attached to these rings were pulled back by the man and tied to rings embedded in the ankle restrints, arching Melissa's feet back and stretching her soles.
As he was working, Melissa was feeling the first real fear. She was nearing the point of no return. She still had time, she could still get away. All she had to do was tell him to let her go. But she was determined. She never backed down from anything, and she wasn't going to let this thing beat her. She strengthened her resolve to be the victor. She thought of her ticklishness as an adversary, one she was going to defeat. However, she had never felt so vulnerable in all her life...
...or so she thought.
When Alan was finished, he held something in front of her face. A thick leather gag. Not much more than a wide piece of stuffed leather with two straps on either end, but to a girl in her position, it looked rather evil. In fact, she realized that it was designed to do one thing and one thing only...take away the tiny bit of freedom she had left.
"Once this goes on," Alan said calmly, "you are trapped, do you understand? There will be no way for you to get out. The...exercize...will continue. Are you ready?"
Time crawled by. She could hear the very tick of the Universe as her eyes looked from the gag to the door. One or the other, lady, she told herself...
"Yes."
The leather was pressed between her lips. She bit down. The straps were not fastened behind her head as she'd thought they would be, but pulled through two rings on either side of her head. Pulled tight and tied in place, the gag not only silenced her, but kept her head pinned to the bench. She was his now.
"So," said Alan as he circled the bound blonde, "we have a bit of a problem being tickled?"
As he spoke, Melissa noticed the change. His averageness was his weapon, his disguise. Alan's voice dropped to a low drone, almost a solid hiss. He was going to enjoy this, she knew. He was here to help, but she knew that he was going to enjoy every blasted second of her ordeal.
"I would imagine that this would drive you nuts, then?" Alan said as he slid a single finger up her left sole. It was soon joined by another finger travelling up her right sole.
"MMMNNNGGGHHH!!!!" she mewed as the first bolts of sensation hit her. The muscles of her legs wanted nothing more than to pull up and curl under her body in response to the torment, but they were pinned hard and not going anywhere ans Alan added more fingers to her bared soles.
"The problem you have," he said as he began to pick up the pace of the foot-tickling, "is that you've never taken this all the way. You've never just let go. You stop before you know what happens next..."
Alan curled his fingers a bit and used the tips of his fingernails to trace circles around the tight soles of the helpless call-girl. As the muffled sounds of protest filtered through the gag, his fingertips found their way to the base of her toes. They worked side-to-side, the lightest touch teasing the virgin nerve-endings.
"MnnnHnnnHnnnHNNNNN!!!" Melissa yelped as electricity shot up her legs. It was just starting and already she wanted to beg for release. But she knew she was stuck. The feeling slammed into her brain as the unassuming man became a medieval torturer in her very prescence. The first beads of sweat appeared and her heart skipped a beat when the sound first hit her ears.
The sound of a tiny motor whirring to life.
From her vantage point, she was unable to see what was causing the noise, but her tormenter was more than happy to show it to her. It was a live electric toothbrush.
"You know where this is going, don't you?" he teased as her huge eyes grew to a size not previously considered possible. Teasing was part of it, he knew. She needed to be shocked, she needed to feel the tickling of the mind that came before the tickling of the flesh. "Bet you really want to escape, don't you?" he said as he slowly approached her feet, little by little leaving her plane on sight. "All strapped down with a torture implement getting closer to your feet with every passing second...you must be going insane..."
"MMMNNNNPPPHHH!!!!!...MMMMNNNDDDNNTTTPLLLLSSSS!!!!" Melissa tried to beg as she braced herself for the torment to come. As the time ticked by, she found herself wishing it to just happen already! And it was then that Alan's apparent latent psychic abilities came to light.
"You want me to just get on with it, don't you?"
"MMMNNGGHH!!!!"
"Good, the first step taken. You want it, rather than the anticipation. Wanting to be tickled for whatever reason is better than not wanting it at all, right? Remember this feeling, cling to it...you'll learn to relish it. So, without further ado....here....it.....commmeeessssss........"
Just when Melissa thought she was going to die from anticipation, the whirling bristles of the toothbrush struck her helpless sole. She'd never felt anything even close before. The tickling of her feet by Alan's fingers was nothing comapred the the sheer torture of the tiny bristles picking fights with every nerve ending in her feet. She swore she could feel every one of the little bastards finding a nerve, backing it up against a wall and jacking it like a mugger on a tourist. Her nerves never had a chance.
One long muffled scream fought its way around the gag as the twirling bristles ran laps around the track of her feet. Every toe was molested by the invading force, every tender space that rested between them probed mercilessly. Melissa felt the muscles in her legs scream in protest as the instinct in them was cut off by the cruel straps. It was a pressure almost. One that built and built until she was sure that her very skin would explode.
"Hmmmm.....seems to be having quite the effect, eh, Melissa?" Alan taunted as one hand controlled the horrible tool and the other tickled her foot wildly. Even her heels were not spared the torture as her body was wracked with spasms.
"MMMRRGGGHH!!!! MMMHmmm..HMMMM....HHMMMMMNNNGGHH!!!!" her protests were becoming stagerred as the first tears lost their hold on the corners of her blue eyes.
Then, it stopped. Her feet felt like sandpaper was still being drawn across the nerves, but even that ancilliary response was welcome compared to the awful torment of the tickling. But...
...she'd survived. In hindsight, it didn't go as far as she imagined. Sure, she felt like she was going to die while it was going on, but she didn't. The sensation, like pain, was just a memory now. She'd made it. Now, all he had to do was let her go, and she'd could try this with one of her clients and...
"You didn't think we were through yet, did you?" Alan asked, once again showing signs of psychic ability. In reality, though, he'd seen this before, he knew the drill. There were more steps in this little exercize...many more.
Melissa tugged against her bonds. He had to be finished, right? She took it, and she lived. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought. But she could see in his eyes that her lesson was only beginning. She wanted out, she was through. She'd quit, she didn't care. The gag kept the words firmly placed in her mouth, however, as Alan knelt next to her and brushed a stray lock from her face.
"Melissa, Melissa...you've only begun. Right now, you're thinking....let me the hell out of this, I'm done. But we agreed that you'd go through the whole thing...that's what the gag is for. You're mine for the duration, and I was asked to perform a service. It's out of your hands now."
With that, he ran a finger down her arm, starting at the wrist. Had she not been so thoroughly gagged, Melissa would have shrieked in surprise. But all that escaped was a muffled yelp. She felt electricity tingle along her arm as it trailed toward its obvious destination. Oh no, she thought, he wouldn't! Weren't the feet bad enough?!?! I have to get out of this before...
Too late. The trailing finger brushed over her tighly bared armpit, sending a shockwave down her body. It was on the return trip that the torture began in earnest. Not content with tormenting one smooth armpit, Alan reached over and began lightly fluttering the fingers of his other hand in the stretched recess of her other arm.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle...." Alan lightly sang as he ran his wriggling fingers over the hopelessly sensitive skin bared before him. With her biceps pinned like a classroom butterfly, her forearms the same and her hands wrapped tight, the skin under her arms was immobile. It was like a pad of paper under a pen, only able to recieve. And Alan's pen was writing a tale of torture. She could feel the sensations travel right to her hardened nipples.
"Such lovely breasts, my dear....may I?" Alan needlessly asked as he teased her by wriggling his fingers over the sexy mounds protruding from the stretched chest of the helpless girl. The pitiful pleas that stuttered through the gag proved useless against the hands that lightly stroked her tits, making small circles around the mounds before drawing sharply down their sides to fall once again into the pits under her ticklish arms. As the tickling increased, so did the intensity of Alan's ministrations.
The light touches became pokes and prods. One after the other like the stutter-fire of a machine gun, his fingers poked quickly, almost childishly, into her pits and down to her ribs. Each armpit was treated to a stiff finger pressing hard against the most sensitive spot there, and wriggling around....tickling with no mercy. Faster and faster she ws tickled until she thought her mind would break. It was like having a cold rod jammed between her armpits, passing through her brain in the process. She felt as if she were going to lose consciousness.
Sensing this with the knowledge of a true professional, Alan went back to the slow strokes over her flesh. The hard tickling stopped, but the light, feathery touches were still bringing goosebumps to the skin of the tied girl.
"I can't stop, you know" he said, "you need to go past your limit....you need to know exactly where it is, and then you need to go beyond."
Please, she was saying to herself, perhaps trying to form the words on the surface of her eyes so that he could understand....Please let me go! I can't take anymore, I'm dying! I made a mistake, and I want to go home!
"MnnnHmmm...Hmmm....MMmnngghh" was all that came out, though.
"I know what you're trying to say," Alan said as Melissa's heart jumped with brief hope, "you're trying to express how very grateful you are for learning your limits and experiencing these new sensations, right?"
Melissa's heart sank as she tried to at least shake her head back and forth, but the cunning gag made even that impossible. She was screwed.
"Do you know how sexy your body really is, my dear?" Alan continued to tease, "you have the tightest little tummy I've seen in a long time. I'll bet you're ticklish....here" and he poked her quickly in the waist, "and here..." another poke, "and here...." he continued. Each word punctuated by a poke to the hard muscle under the skin of her taut midriff and a squealing giggle from the tied girl.
"Oh, now she giggles! I must have found something you like, eh?"
Melissa tried again to shake her head, but could only continue to giggle. The stuttered giggles turned to gag-muffled laughter as the pokes turned to fluttery strokes along the flanks of her toned body. Alan's fingers were tracing evil lines along her sides. The incurve of her waist was quivering as he tickled her there for quite some time. One finger found its way into her navel as one hand continued to tickle along her flat belly.
The laughter was rolling now and the tears were welling in her eyes again. Would he never stop? How much more of this can I take before I just die? However, she was still awake, still alive...
...and crossing over into something she never expected. God help her, but she was getting a little used to this. It was torture, no doubt, but it seemed that she was reaching a point where she could actually deal with this. Her belly tickled and her sides quivered, but she was starting to think she'd live through this.
Until he reached her ribs.
There was no taunting. No build-up. Alan had lulled her into the playful tummy-tickling and took her to the next step of her indoctrination.
Shock.
His fingers dug into Melissa's ribcage. Ten wriggling fingers over counless square inches of ticklish flesh. The protruding bones were each given individual attention as Melissa screamed into her gag. The fingers became stiffer and moved faster. Had she not been strapped down so tightly, she most likely would have hit the ceiling with a force sufficient to liquify a brick. If she thought she had reached some sort of plateau, she was wrong. It was as if she'd never been tickled before. This was something that defied description. Her helpless body strained against the unforgiving straps as the tickling continued. If she could feel colors, this felt like a blue bolt. Over and over her pretty ribs were treated to the horrible torture. The immobile ribcage of a sexy young woman helpless and immobile aginst the tickling fingers of a man trianed in the arts of physical torment. After what seemed an eon, Alan desisted and stood back.
The bound and gagged girl was a true vision to him. Tight. Helpless. Nearly nude and gasping for breath. Quivering from the relentless torment. He knew she'd give her soul for release. The though of what he had planned next only made her appear more vulnerable. He bent over and unbuckled the gag, pulling it away from her lips.
She'd torn the leather. Her teehmarks were imbedded in the material.
"Better?"
"Y-yes.....I-....c-can't...takeanymore...(gasp)...p-please...no more...."
"Only one more step, and then you're finished. You have to associate tickling with pleasure if you're ever going to survive in your field."
"NO! Please!....I want to quit!...I-I....swear...."
"Melissa, Melissa," Alan said as he opened one of the drawers and removed a small black box the size of a cell-phone, "after everything you've survived, you want to quit now? Think of it. You're almost there. Nothing anyone out there will throw at you will compare to this. You'll be fine, and you might just discover something....unusual."
He took up the wire running from the devious panties encircling the girl's sexy hips. He attached it to the small box. He pushed a button.
Melissa almost jumped, had the restraints not prevented this. The rubber devices snugged inside of her began to lightly vibrate and rotate along the tiniest circular axis.
"Ohhhhh....I-I-....Ooooooo....O-ok.....th-this isn't.....aaahhh....b-bad...."
Her eyes closed and her head tipped back a bit. She was thankful that he hadn't let her go yet. She deserved a little reward for that, she felt. But she was soon brought back to reality...
"So, ready for more tickling?" Alan said quite bluntly.
"NO! Please! No More! I can't..." she breathed.
"Oh, you can, and you will. You'll like this....well, mostly...." Alan said as he approached her with clawed hands and an evil grin.
"Noooooo...." Melissa moaned.
"Kitchi Kitchi....." Alan teased as her scratched his nails against her sides.
"Hee Hee...Ooooooo...HAAHAAA...G-GODNO!!!!..." Mellisa was giggling betwen small bouts of pleasurable moaning.
"Would you like a little more.....speed?" Alan asked as he pulled a hand away from her midriff long enough to turn up the speed on the controls of her intimate vibrators.
"ooooOOOHHHH!!!!....AAAHHHHH.....Th-that's nice....that's wonderfuuuAAAAIIIGGHHHHHHH!!!!"
Her pleasure was cut off by a quick dig to her waist. Alan was slowly kneading the soft flesh. As the buzzing inside of her increased, so did the torment of her flat belly. As the vibrations started to have an irreversible effect on her, Alan's right hand cruelly discovered a soft area above her panty line and relentlessly tickled here there. Between the sensations spreading from her clitoris and the new kind of tickling over that previously untouched spot, she felt as if her belly were going to rupture. The feeling was building to something she simply couldn't take. The way he was tickling her side was especially evil, not really digging in, but not light. It was a smooth, even massage that tickled with every stroke. She was stuck between wishing it to lighten up or just dig the hell in already. The man was an artist.
"Ticklish right there, baby? Huh? Maybe here? Or here?" Alan teased as he tickled all over her middle. One spot was tickled as another was stroked. The muscle under her skin was poked and kneaded by a single finger, then those same fingers pinched her waist in a cruel hard tickle.
"OHGODNOOOOOO!!!!!PLEASESTOPPLEASESTOP!!!! AAAHAAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHAAAA....HEEHEHEHEHEE...ITTICKL ESITTICKLES......NOMORENOMOREPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE... ....HAAHAAHAAHAHAHAAIIGGHHHHNNOO!!!!"
Melissa was nothing more than a bundle of raw nerves and screams as Alan unleashed Hell in his final assault. He adjusted the vibrators to full power. The effect was visible on the tied girl immediatly. Part of him wanted to just let her come, she'd been through so much...but this was for her own good. She'd thank him later...
...they all did.
As the erotic panties pushed the helpless girl ever closer to what she prayed would be a consciousness-ending orgasm, Alan tickled her. Everywhere at once, it seemed. He was like a demonic massuer, encircling the bondage table and assaulting every ticklish spot he'd been mentally cataloging this past hour. The bondage allowed the slightest arch of her back as the vibrations were combined with insane foot-tickling. Her stretched soles were tickled, soon followed by her long legs. Alan continued his trip around the table, tickling her hips, her belly, her sides, her ribs, her armpits....all in a relentless attack as Melissa was pushed ever closer to something she had no contol over. She was screaming in tortured laughter mixed with brand-new feelings of lust.
"AAAAIIIGGHHH!!!!!!GODNOPLEASE!!!!!AAAAAAHHHHH....O OOOOHHHHH.....YOU"REINSANEPLEASESTOPTHIS!!!!!!!!!....HAAAHAHAHAHEEEH EHEHENONONONONONONOOOOO.....OOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
Melissa was visiting a place she'd never been before. The feeling she had was nothing without the tickling, and she was just now becoming aware of this. With an almost auible click, Melissa felt...what?...converted? She wanted the tickling to stop, but she wanted it to continue. At last Alan grabbed her with both hands by the waist and dug in hard, tickling every last breath out of the struggling girl.
She couldn't hold back any longer. For all she knew, this could have been her first orgasm. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was like hot water spreading from her groin, up her belly, over her breasts and right through her soul. Alan stopped tickling her long enough to use his mouth on her nipples and his fingers over her crotch, adding to the sensation washing over her....she was transported to a plane she thought was reserved for saints after they pass through the gates....
*******************************
(Two weeks later.........)
The man was quite pleased with himself. The girl was well worth the money he'd spent, and she was nothing short of breathtaking as she laid on the bed, tied tighly to the posts. Her body was magnificent, and her whole demeanor was playing right into his fantasy.
"Are you comfortable, my dear?" he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Oh yes," Melissa replied in her coy voice, "just do me a favor?"
"And what would that be?" the man asked as he trailed a finger down her cheek.
"Please don't tickle me all tied up like this, ok? It really makes me lose control, and you wouldn't be that cruel would you?"
Man and girl exchanged knowing smiles as the fantasy played out.
"Oh, I would never do anything that evil....well, maybe just a little...." he said as he grabbed a stiff feather off the nightstand.
Melissa closed her eyes and silently gave thanks for her extraordinary new sensations to a rather average man.
