Mark's Story parts 1 & 2 (M/f, F/m, non-consensual, cuckoldry, sexual)

[TamiraK]

Mark’s Story
by Tamira K.

Part I

Mark Anderson had a tickling fetish.

He hadn’t always had a tickling fetish. In fact, it was revealed to him relatively late in life. When he was in his late 20s, he had an experience with a woman that would change his life forever.

He and the woman had been dating a while and he was well aware that she was kinky, so it didn't surprise him much when she mentioned wanting to tie him up for some kinky sex. It wasn’t a surprise but it was a thrill, so he agreed. He was expecting some teasing, perhaps a little pain and some prolonged sexual stimulation. What he wasn’t expecting was for this lovely woman to begin tickling him!

Strapped helpless, Mark endured a prolonged subjection to intense tickling at the hands of his lover. He discovered how ticklish he was and the parts of the body on which he was most ticklish. After the torture (and it was torture), they were both so turned on that they had some of the best sex in Mark’s life. In fact, he couldn’t think of many experiences that had surpassed it, before or since.

And so, Mark’s passion for tickling was ignited and only continued to grow. Now in his early fifties, like most tickling fetishists, he thought about it every day although he didn’t get the chance to partake in it as much as he would have liked. There had been one time when he had spent an evening with another woman and they wound up in a bar after hours and she had taken the liberty of poking him in the ribs to see his reaction. She was pleased to see him jump and so attempted a multi-pronged attack only for him to turn the tables… almost literally. He flipped her up onto the table and pinned her in place, he then pulled off her shoes and began tickling her foot. Her reaction was wonderful – she screamed and laughed and begged for him to stop but her struggles just encouraged him to continue. However, eventually he stopped because they were, after all, in a public space.

His adventures since had only been with lovers and had been similarly brief. That said, his interest was primarily in tickling others rather than being tickled, which cut the potential for finding a play partner by 50%. At six feet tall, 200lbs, sporting a handsome cropped beard and moustache; and as a father of two teenagers, someone who attended the gym regularly and was successful in his career as a security consultant, Mark considered himself to be among those who described themselves as “alpha males”. His ego appointed him as a tickler rather than a ticklee and, even if ego wasn’t a factor, his first experience of being tortured had been so horrendously unbearable that he didn’t want to go through that again. Also he suspected that he had now reached an age whereby men grew out of it and weren’t anywhere near as susceptible to being tickled.

He had been single for over a decade now and was perfectly happy being single but he yearned for an adventure that gave him a memory to treasure like the time when he was put into bondage – but this time, with him on top. Over the years, additional elements had come to his mind and stayed with him. More and more things turned him on but, in some ways, this narrowed his chances to make something happen because the rare jewel he sought had to fit a variety of desires.

Watching videos and reading stories on the internet turned him on. He liked the idea of tickling someone without their consent, but he would never kidnap someone off the street to do it! He also liked the idea of cuckolding a man by tickling his wife or girlfriend. But how the hell do you make that happen?! And non-consensually!?

The angel on Mark’s shoulder comforted him with the fact that fantasies stay in Fantasyland for a reason… mainly to keep us out of serious trouble! However, without Mark being especially conscious of it, the devil on his other shoulder—who never slept and rarely spoke—was always on the lookout for a way to bring his ultimate fantasies to life.

It was winter in Detroit as Mark’s taxi arrived outside the Marriott Hotel for the first of several client Christmas dos that he would be attending that season. There was a crisp chill in the air and a light dusting of snow on the sidewalk that helped brighten the evening.

By the nature of his work as a security consultant, those who employed his services were very grateful to him for saving their companies money but because it was usually the heads of the company who dealt with him during working hours, when he was invited to attend the company drinks, he had to make the effort to break apart the workplace cliques in order to converse with people otherwise he would be propped against the hors d’oeuvres buffet table all night long. Fortunately, his gregarious nature meant that this was not difficult for him.

Aside from schmoozing with clients and thus remaining in their good books to land further work, the main element that made Mark happy to attend such events was not due to the free booze on offer or the festive party atmosphere but the hope that there was be one or two hot single ladies in their forties who would be in attendance and looking for a little “Christmas cheer”.

After brushing melted snow from his coat and checking it in at the cloakroom, a concierge directed him to one of the event suites. The bustling sounds of well-lubricated party-goers flowed from the door as he approached and it was opened by a stiff-kneed attendee as he staggered his way past.

‘Ahh, Mark!’ said Mr Wallace, CEO of Falcon Media Technologies, as he entered. Mark smiled a hello and shook his hand. ‘I’m glad you could make it! Grab yourself a drink from the bar and I’ll introduce you to some people!’

‘Thanks. I will do!’ said Mark and walked through the crowd to the bar, hiding the fact that he was ready to take note of any lady who looked his way. He ordered a beer and turned to casually observe the crowd. There was a good mix in the room: people in their twenties to people in their sixties and of a variety of ethnic backgrounds.

A DJ played music from a booth in the corner but he was largely being ignored and the songs were drowned out by the general high spirits. Quite a good atmosphere for a bunch of tech geeks, Mark thought to himself.

The barman served his beer. Mark tipped him and took a sip from the bottle when he caught sight of a lady watching him from the middle of the room. Strikingly beautiful and with cascading copper-red hair, she stood head and shoulders above the majority of the throng. She turned back to her circle of colleagues but not before her eyes had lingered just that extra moment to indicate her interest.

‘Aye-aye, Anderson,’ Mark said to himself. ‘It’s time to meet the workforce.’

He walked back through the crowd and was on his way past the woman who was standing with five others when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, she was watching him in the hope he would stop. He looked at her and she realised she’d been caught.

‘Hello,’ said Mark.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Do you mind if I cut into your circle? I’ve just arrived here alone and could do with some friendly faces to chat to.’

‘Sure!’ said a dumpy Indian man with a shiny pate as they made space.

‘Thank you. I’m Mark. Do you all work for Falcon?’

The group confirmed they did. ‘I’m Richard,’ said a cocksure guy in his late twenties who was holding two bottles. He took it upon himself to introduce the group by name, ending with the tall redhead, ‘…and this is Jenna.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Mark addressing all of them, but directing his comment to Jenna. She smiled.

‘So, who are you here with, Mark?’ asked Richard, his tone was the practiced over-enunciation that younger guys adopt when attempting to establish their alpha status, enhanced by four or five beers and undermined by a slur as a result of the same. This was probably provoked by the fact that Mark was the only person in the vicinity taller than him.

‘I’m here alone,’ said Mark, causing Richard to falter as he recalled that he’d already been given this information not sixty seconds earlier. To save him from further embarrassment Mark continued, ‘I’ve been doing some work for your Mr Wallace recently, but let’s not talk shop. What were you talking about before I interrupted?’ he said in Jenna’s direction.

‘We were just wondering if would snow on Christmas day this year,’ said Jenna, obviously not enamoured with the topic.

‘The weather?’ said Mark. ‘Maybe we should talk shop then!’

Jenna tittered. Mark liked her smile. ‘Is nobody dancing this evening?’

‘We’ll probably bust a move or two later,’ chuckled Ranjit, the dumpy Indian man. ‘I’ve been practicing my moonwalk–!’

‘I’m back!’ interrupted a petite young blonde woman who barged her way into the circle between Richard and Jenna. She yanked one of the bottles from Richard’s grasp and her inebriated eyes registered a newcomer in the group. ‘Who’s this?’

‘I’m Mark–’

‘Nice beard!’ she said, amusing herself. Nobody else could excavate any humour in her comment.

‘This is my wife, Nadine,’ said Richard, able to ignore the embarrassment of Nadine’s rudeness by recalling the sense of pride he usually felt when pronouncing this fact.

Mark’s first impression was that Nadine was the type of girl who resented never having been made the head of the cheerleading squad but still managed to live a charmed life by surfing on her good looks and great figure. But she certainly couldn’t handle her drink.

Mark turned his attention to Jenna, ‘What dance moves will you be bustin’ on the dance floor later?’

‘I won’t be dancing until I’ve had several more of these!’ she said, shaking the ice cubes in her near-empty glass.

‘What are you drinking? Actually—tell you what—why don’t you tell the barman? My shout!’

Jenna gave a sarcastic laugh. Mark turned to escort her to the bar.

‘It’s a free bar, silly!’ Nadine called after them.

Jenna rolled her eyes. ‘Thank you for getting me away from that lot!’ she said. ‘Gin and tonic, please,’ she told the barman.

‘Not your usual crowd?’ asked Mark.

‘Not really. Especially not the soused bimbo. They shouldn’t allow partners to come to these things. It should be employees only.’

‘I won’t feel unwelcome by that comment, don’t worry(!)’

‘Well… Perhaps employees and associates.’

‘Is that why you left your boyfriend at home tonight?’

‘I don’t have a boyfriend,’ said Jenna, acknowledging the rather unsubtle question. ‘What about you?’

‘Me?’ asked Mark.

‘Yes: did you leave your boyfriend at home tonight?’ she said with smirk.

Mark became aroused as he found himself with an excuse to discover the answer to a very important question. ‘I see what you did there. Very funny!’ he said and gently poked Jenna in the waist.

She jumped and gasped, her blue eyes widening in response.

‘What’s wrong, Jenna?’

‘Oh, God, don’t do that!’

‘Do what? This…?’ he said and reached to poke her again.

She grasped his wrist tightly giggled involuntarily, ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘I’m too ticklish. Especially after a couple of drinks. You’ll make me pee! In fact, I’d better go do that now.’

‘Yes, do,’ said Mark. ‘Then I can tickle you as much as I like!’

‘I don’t think so!’ she replied and gave him a wide berth as she headed for the restrooms.

Mark watched the curve of her waist and the sway of her hips as she walked away. His lust was enflamed by her reaction to just a single poke. He would love to discover how ticklish she was on other parts of her body!

‘Hello Mr Beard,’ said a voice to his left.

He looked down to see Nadine stood at the bar. ‘That bottle of beer didn’t last long!’

‘What are you, my father?!’

‘Nope. Although he must be very proud!’

‘He is!’ Nadine hiccupped, oblivious to the sarcasm. ‘I like your approach with the company bicycle. Very smooth!’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Mark.

‘Flirting with her. Testing to see how hard her abs are; how fit she is.’

Mark raised his hands and pulled a face to indicate that he’d been caught out, fair-and-square.

In truth, there was always the feeling that he might be caught out and embarrassed by someone who knew the inner workings of his mind. Tickling fetishists were rare but they did exist and the thought of being exposed to a roomful of strangers by a drunk girl with loose lips sent a chill through him. However, he could have guessed that he had nothing to fear from Nadine – she didn’t come across as the worldly-wise type. Blinkered “vanilla” folk like her could usually play 20 Questions, or even 100 Questions, without working out what his kink was. He doubted she would consider anything other than missionary position and doggy-style to be normal.

‘Yeah, well, she’s old and is bound to be saggy around the middle compared to me!’ and, with that, Nadine lifted her top.

Mark straightened his posture with arousal as he saw her beautifully toned stomach. The bar lights cast shadows that highlighted her oblique and abdominal muscles. He felt his hand move instinctively towards them but he stopped himself. This was not an invitation.

The beers arrived and she dropped her top. She seemed about to say something but then changed her mind and walked away, beers in hand.

The party had stepped up a gear. Falcon employees now filled the dance floor, much to the delight of the previously dejected DJ. Jenna returned; floating through the crowd with a sultry look. She lifted her drink and drained it. ‘Now I’m in the mood to dance!’ she said.

Over the next couple of hours Mark and Jenna enjoyed each other’s company on and off the dance floor. There were occasional interruptions from her colleagues but they managed to escape each time. Mark challenged himself not to make any more testing pokes or prods at Jenna’s waist because he could already sense with a great degree of certainty that this was going to be a successful evening for him and, as well as not wanting to be overtly flirtatious in front of the CEO, he already knew Jenna was very ticklish and wanted to wait until a time—hopefully that evening—to explore and savour her reactions for the first time.

As 1am approached the party began to peter out. Mr Wallace bade Mark a good evening and seemed to wink as he left him with Jenna.

‘It looks like the party’s over,’ said Mark.

‘Yeah,’ said Jenna, stumbling with a mixture of gin and disco-knees. She put her hand on his shoulder to stabilise herself. ‘Where do you live?’

‘North of the city.’

‘Me too. Want to share a cab?’

‘Sure.’ Mark smiled.

As they stepped into the hotel lobby, other party goers were crowded at the front desk and Mark overheard several of them complaining that there was a one-hour wait for cabs.

‘It must be a busy Christmas party night,’ Mark mused.

‘Yeah,’ said Jenna. ‘Let’s go to the street and see if we can flag one down.’

They turned up the collars of their coats and, as the cold blast of the night air hit them, Jenna grabbed Mark’s arm and hugged it tight. Whether she was using him as a windbreaker or support to avoid slipping over, he didn’t mind. He flexed his arm as he welcomed her closeness and they headed a couple of blocks in the light snow towards the city centre.

‘There’s one!’ Jenna cried as they approached a corner. She held out her hand.

The cab indicated and pulled over to the corner. They smiled at the unlikely achievement and, as they stepped over to the cab, they heard excited drunk voices. From behind the corner of the building stepped Richard and Nadine, their eyes set on the cab.

‘Hey! Don’t even think about it!’ snapped Nadine. Then, through her drunken haze, she recognised them. ‘It’s beardy man and that one!’

‘Oh, yeah!’ said Richard, louder and with more slur to his voice than before.

‘That’s our cab! We saw it first!’ said Nadine.

‘I doubt that,’ said Jenna.

Whilst Mark didn’t want to engage with the sloshed young couple he could predict that this situation would only escalate. ‘Hey, it’s got four seats in the back. How about we share? Where do you two live?’

‘North of the city,’ said Richard.

‘So do we.’

‘Great,’ said Nadine as she opened the door and jumped in first.

The passenger seats of the taxi cab were the kind that faced each other. Nadine and Richard faced forward, while Mark and Jenna travelled backwards. Nadine struggled to keep her eyes open and focussed as they headed out of the city.

Richard mistook the silence as his cue to play host: ‘Great party wasn’t it?’

Mark nodded politely.

‘Was she the best you could find, Mr Beard?’ Nadine burbled.

‘Hey, can you be a bit more polite?’ said Mark as Jenna glared daggers at Nadine.

‘I can’t. I say what’s on my mind. Love me or hate me, I say it as it is.’

‘No, you’re a crass brat with no etiquette,’ said Jenna.

‘Don’t get jealous. Just ‘cos he fancied me more but he can’t have me ‘cos I’m married.’

Mark and Jenna shared a look. He shook his head in disbelief at the girl’s narcissism.

‘You should have seen the look on his face when he saw my body,’ said Nadine.

Richard and Jenna looked at Mark. ‘That’s not true,’ he said.

‘Yes it is. When she went to the restrooms and we were at the bar. You wanted to touch my abs but I walked away.’

Jenna recalled Mark’s probing fingers as a method of flirtation and eyed him with suspicion. There was a strange look of pride on Richard’s face.

‘That’s not what happened!’ said Mark.

‘California Street!’ called the taxi driver as the car slowed to a stop outside Jenna’s house. Jenna opened her door without saying a word.

‘Can I walk you to your door?’ asked Mark, unbuckling his safety belt.

‘No, it’s just there. Goodnight.’ Jenna said and slammed the door.

Mark was gobsmacked and deflated at the speed and disappointment of the injustice that had just taken place. He looked to Nadine who had passed out on Richard’s shoulder in the time it took to shut a car door.

‘Aw, that’s a shame,’ said Richard. ‘She’s a great gal. No worries, man. Plenty more fish in the sea!’

Mark wanted to reach forward and smack the smug look and mouthful of clichés off his face so hard that they would break the window on their way into the street.

Richard gurned to check the conscious status of the drooling girl on his shoulder. As Nadine was asleep, he felt it safe to brag: ‘I think she’s into younger men, myself. She gives me the occasional look in the office. Know what I mean?’

‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Mark said, flatly.

‘What is it you do then, beardy-man?’ Nadine blurted out of nowhere, as though she hadn’t missed a beat.

‘I’m a security consultant,’ said Mark.

‘Snoresville!’

Mark ignored the comment, ‘I save businesses money by exposing their vulnerabilities and telling them how they can protect themselves better. I’ve just been working with Falcon on a complete overhaul of their security measures.’

‘That means he’s the one!’ she said to Richard.

Mark was confused. Richard looked as though he’d just stepped on a landmine.

Nadine turned back to Mark, ‘He was getting us extra money through emble… emblim… emblezzement and you stopped him! We were gonna get a pool next!’ she said and passed out again on Richard’s shoulder.

Mark’s eyes met Richard’s and he smirked.

Richard was very pale. ‘She’s so drunk.’

‘Linwood Street!’ called the driver.

Mark’s eyes remained locked on Richard, whose projection of confidence had evaporated. The car pulled up. ‘Come on, babe,’ said Richard, barely containing how irritated he was. He shook Nadine awake.

‘Whaaat?!’ she whinged.

‘We’re home. Get up!’ he opened the door and glanced briefly at Mark, ‘Goodnight.’

‘See you soon…’ said Mark with an air that felt very ominous to Richard who was forced to open Nadine’s door and drag her into the open air.

‘Wait here a second,’ Mark said to the driver, ‘I want to make sure they get in okay.’

Richard part-carried Nadine along the sidewalk slowly as he waited for the cab to go. He eventually realised that the cab was going nowhere until they were indoors. About to collapse under his beer-soaked instability and Nadine’s weight, he stepped to their front door and caught Mark watching him as the cab pulled away.

– – – – –

It was two days later, on Sunday morning, that Richard and Nadine were both feeling more human, having spent Saturday with all-day hangovers.

Richard awoke to the smells of a cooked breakfast and stumbled his way to the kitchen.

‘Morning, hun,’ said Nadine.

‘Hey.’

‘How much bacon?’

‘Three. Thanks.’

He watched her as she finished cooking the breakfast. Although it was snowing outside the house felt as hot as the tropics, as was Nadine’s preference. Snowflakes turned to raindrops as they neared the kitchen windows and Nadine was wearing her cute, soft-cloth short-sleeved pyjama top and shorts. Grey, with pink ribbons, they showed off her awesome body and perfectly rounded “tushie” as she proudly called it. And despite the heat, she wore her knee-high thick woollen socks with the polar bear faces on them. Richard had things on his mind but still felt himself getting aroused as she walked around the kitchen.

She laid down the breakfast plates and two cups of coffee and began to tuck in. Richard just looked at the plate. ‘Are you okay? Still hungover?’ she asked.

‘No, I’m better.’

‘What’s wrong then?’

‘Do you remember the guy who was in the cab with us on the way home?’

‘No,’ she said as though it was a ludicrous question to ask. ‘Who was it?’

‘It was the guy who was with Red Jenna all night.’

‘Oh, yeah, I remember him. A big guy with a beard?’

‘Kind of, yeah.’

‘What about him?’

‘He was the security guy that Mr Wallace called in to investigate the money I took for us.’

‘Oh, shit!’ she said, her eyes wide with excitement.

‘Yeah. And you told him what I’d done.’

She froze. ‘I didn’t…!?’

‘Yeah, you did. You somehow managed to use the word embezzlement too! And now I don’t know what’s gonna happen.’

‘You might get fired?’

‘At the least,’ he said, picking up his knife and fork.

‘Shit.’

‘We need to think carefully about this,’ he said and shovelled in a mouthful of bacon.

They were interrupted by the ring of the doorbell. Irritated, Richard dropped his cutlery and stomped over to the door. ‘It’s fucking Sunday!’ he said, loud enough for whoever was at the door to hear it.

He yanked open the door and was gobsmacked to see Mark on his doorstep.

‘Good morning, Richard.’

‘Oh, hi. What’s up?’

‘I was just passing by and I thought I’d knock to see how you’re both doing.’

‘We’re good. Still a bit hungover. Can’t remember much about Friday! We were really drunk!’ he said, trying to laugh it off.

Over Richard’s shoulder, Mark saw Nadine tentatively peer from the kitchen. ‘You must have been. You left this on the back seat of the cab!’ said Mark and held up Nadine’s purse.

‘Oh, wow. Thanks,’ said Richard, taking the purse.

‘You’re welcome,’ said Mark.

There followed an awkward silence as Mark stood on the doorstep, smiling but saying nothing. Finally, Richard gave way, ‘Would you like to come in?’

‘That’s very kind of you. Thank you.’ Mark stepped in, wiped his feet and headed to the kitchen. He was carrying a briefcase. ‘Hello Nadine,’ he said as he set down the briefcase and took Richard’s seat at the table.

‘Hi,’ she said.

Richard followed him in.

‘Please, sit down. It looks like I interrupted your breakfast.’

They sat, Richard taking one of the empty seats. Again Mark seemed content to smile through the silence.

‘What do you want…?’ asked Nadine.

‘You haven’t forgotten my name, have you, Nadine?’

She faltered and looked to Richard who was in the same boat.

‘How rude!’ said Mark, ‘Never mind. We can deal with that later. For now, let’s just talk about the money you took from Falcon Media Technologies.’

Mark was highly valued by his clients for good reason – he could see the mask of ignorance Richard was about wear seconds before he smeared it on, and when Richard opened his mouth to deny everything, Mark just gently shook his head.

‘You see, now I’ve found the person I’m looking for, it is going to be very easy to gather the evidence.’

‘What do you want? The money? Obviously you want to blackmail us otherwise you’d just wait until tomorrow and tell Mr Wallace,’ said Richard.

‘I don’t need the money, Richard. And the word blackmail is so grubby… No. I’m here to offer you a very easy way out of this. But I also want to teach you both some manners.’

‘Huh?’ said Nadine.

‘You were both very rude to me and Jenna on Friday night. And, to be blunt, you scuppered my chance of a nice evening with her. It’s left me feeling somewhat “frustrated” and I believe you two can help.’

‘What are you, some kind of sex freak? You wanna fuck us both!?’ said Nadine.

‘Nothing as coarse as that, Nadine. You see, I’m a man of acquired tastes—’

‘What then?’

‘I want to tie you up and play with you for a couple of hours. No pain. No penetration. Just touching,’ Mark noted the look of bewilderment on Nadine’s face and sensed an impending refusal from Richard. ‘If you say no I will leave you to enjoy your Sunday and see you in Mr Wallace’s office tomorrow, probably with a few policemen. If you agree, this will all be over in a couple of hours and I will give Mr Wallace a plausible excuse at how cyber criminals syphoned off the missing finances and there is no way to track them.’

He took a sip from Richard’s untouched cup of coffee as the young couple looked at one another. Richard didn’t like the idea of anyone touching his beautiful wife and so couldn’t bring himself to agree. Eventually, Nadine spoke: ‘Where do you want us?’

‘In the bedroom, of course.’

Nadine stood up. ‘Let’s get this over with then,’ she said and headed for the bedroom.

‘She’s an eager little thing, isn’t she?’ said Mark. He took another sip of coffee then picked up the briefcase and followed her into the bedroom. Richard followed quickly after them.

Mark looked around at the mess of a bedroom – a double bed with a wooden frame and clothes strewn over the floor and every piece of furniture.

‘I can tell you weren’t expecting guests,’ he said.

‘What now?’ said Nadine. There was an unsurprising air of defiance about her.

‘Now you can lie on the bed. And you…’ he said, turning to Richard and surveying the room until he spotted something useful. ‘You can stand over there, in the corner by the radiator.’

Nadine cleared the bed of displaced clothes and laid down as Richard reluctantly moved to the corner of the room. Mark unclipped his briefcase. Nadine tried to get a glimpse of what was inside but Mark’s broad back blocked her view. He retrieved something that gave a light, metallic clinking sound. He stepped over to Richard. ‘Get on your knees,’ he said.

Richard looked up at him and over to Nadine, who just shrugged. He knelt down. Mark placed a steel collar around his neck and locked it in place with a padlock. The confusion on the faces of this couple indicated to Mark that they had zero experience with BDSM. The attached chain was thicker than that of the average dog collar. Mark wrapped the end around the sturdy pipe of the radiator and snapped another padlock through the chain links to keep it in place.

Richard tested the chain. It had no give to it whatsoever. He was going nowhere.

Mark looked down on him with tremendous satisfaction. ‘You’re a lot more subdued than on Friday, Richard.’

Richard was experiencing an unfamiliar level of unease that prevented him from delivering any of his trademark retorts.

Mark turned and slowly stepped over to the bed. Nadine’s brattish defiance had been joined by a degree of apprehension.

‘Don’t look so worried, Nadine. I said I wouldn’t hurt you and I’m a man of my word.’

Mark again opened his briefcase and this time took out a set of four leather restraints, each had D-hooks from which hung nylon rope. ‘May I have your wrists, please?’ Nadine slowly lifted her wrists. Mark placed the restraints around them and buckled them together. He then lifted her arms over her head and tied the ropes firmly around the slatted bedhead, finishing the knots to the spine of the mattress support, out of Nadine’s reach.

He then stepped to the foot of the bed and casually dangled the ankle restraints. ‘I’m afraid these lovely warm polar bear socks will have to come off now…’

‘Well, I can’t do it now you’ve tied up my hands!’

‘How tragic. I’ll just have to do it myself,’ he said. He knelt down, rested the restraints on the floor and reached for the tops of one sock. It glided with ease down Nadine’s smooth calf. Mark could tell she was the type of girl who had never shaved her legs because she didn’t need to. The tiny golden hairs on her leg were so fine that they were virtually invisible.

He wanted to remove her sock with ceremonial slowness to reveal her foot for the first time as he did when removing the hosiery of the women he dated but the wool was so soft and her skin so smooth that the sock seemed to engage a will of its own as it slipped off with ease. The end result, however, was not a disappointment. He took hold of her other sock and slid it down without hesitation and before him were the most angelic pair of dainty feet he could ever recall seeing in his life: pale porcelain pink with delicious peachy highlights on the sole and totally bereft of any visible signs of wear; she obviously didn’t pumice her feet because she didn’t have to. He noted that her toes were delicate in the same way that her fingers were and she wore a transparent gloss varnish.

Mark realised that his prolonged, entranced gaze was in danger of becoming obvious and so picked up the restraints and buckled Nadine’s ankles together, passing the ropes between her ankles and tying them securely to the lower end of the mattress support. He stood and looked down on the girl. She was as stretched out as she could be, to the point where her top had lifted and was now displaying her toned stomach.

‘Man, if you hurt her…’ said Richard.

‘Yes?’ said Mark. He waited a suitably long time until it was evident to everyone in the room that there was no credible way for Richard to finish this sentence. ‘That’s what I thought. Also, I already said I wasn’t going to hurt either of you and I’m a man of my word, so don’t say that sort of thing again, you will only irritate me.’

‘What are you going to do then!?’ said Nadine.

Mark sat on the bed and leant to rest one hand on the mattress on her opposite side, bridging her with his arm so he could look her directly in the eye. ‘You were very disrespectful on Friday night.’

‘I was just having fun.’

‘Some of the people around you weren’t.’

‘It’s not my fault, I was drunk!’

‘And, if you’d like me to, I can deal with the people who forced alcohol down your throat in the near future, but at the moment I’ll proceed with the assumption that you chose to drink as much as you did and, rather than becoming a totally different person, the drink just dropped your guard and revealed your true self.’

‘So what?’

‘You lied to Jenna and to your husband when you said I tried to touch you. That resulted in Jenna being hurt and me losing out on what could have been the start of a very nice relationship.’

Nadine’s expression conveyed that she didn’t remember the conversation but Mark also sensed she was fighting to contain a smirk of mischief because it was exactly the sort of thing she knew she would do.

‘Is something amusing you, Nadine?’

Her smirk broke through. ‘No. It’s just the way you said, “the start of a very nice relationship,” it sounds so upper class.’

‘I see,’ said Mark. ‘Well, from my point of view, if I’m going to be punished for something I didn’t do, I feel like I may as well do it.’ With that, he gently raked his fingernails across Nadine’s flat tummy.

She tensed and growled in an attempt to resist. At the same time Mark heard the echoing metallic ker-chunggg! of the chain on the radiator as Richard had instinctively moved forward and forgotten the length of his leash.

‘Don’t do that,’ said Nadine.

‘No? Don’t you think it would be worse if I did this…?’ said Mark and grabbed Nadine’s waist on both sides. She instantly threw her head back and exploded into laugher. He felt the muscle fibres beneath her taut skin and his thumbs wriggled over and into those tell-tale textures that let him know it would give him the desired response even before he pressed into them.

Nadine shrieked and twisted with a primal surge of strength that could never be conjured by will alone. Mark held her in place so that he could continue probing her exposed tummy and, when she realised she couldn’t escape his huge hands, she let out an extended high-pitched cachinnation.

Despite how magnetic her obvious sensitivity was to him, Mark doubted that anybody had ever done this to her for more than two seconds.

Nadine’s mouth was stretched wide and she looked at him with eyes that began to fill with tears, unable to do anything but laugh. She discovered a new experience of not being able to fight off or run away from her tormentor and flopped into hopelessness. As she did so Mark was delighted at the change in pitch of her laugh – it went from the high-pitched machine-gun that you would expect from a girl of her stature, to the full-throated hardy laugh of a sexy young woman.

The laugh sent a boost to Mark’s arousal and he stopped and went to her feet.

‘I said don’t do that!’ Nadine shouted, the remnants of laughter in her expression.

‘Why not?’ asked Mark, relishing the moment before her inevitable response:

‘Because I’m ticklish!’

‘I’d never have guessed!’ he said, leaning towards her feet.

‘No…! No! Not that!’

Mark felt his dick straining at his underwear, hearing Nadine beg and panic whilst he felt the power in his hands. ‘I’m afraid I have to, Nadine.’

‘No! No you don—EEEEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEEEE!’ Nadine squealed with laughter as Mark’s fingernails made contact with her heavenly-soft soles. She desperately tried to cover one foot with the other but swiftly realised that protecting one meant exposing the other and she again fell from the sweet screams of desperation to the deep abandon of tortured laughter when even flicking her feet rapidly from side to side wasn’t enough to escape Mark’s teasing fingers. The difference this time was that she was able to speak between bouts of laughter. ‘Please…! Not my feet! Please…! I’m begging you…! I’m too ticklish…! My feet are too ticklish…! Stoppit…! Ha ha ha ha haaa!’

Mark absorbed her begging as comic book villain might absorb energy to make himself stronger. He revelled in Nadine’s helplessness and her total inability to stop herself from laughing.

Without turning his head, Mark took a moment to glance sideways at Nadine’s husband. His expression was one of turmoil as he watched Nadine struggle and scream on the bed but Mark noticed that he was also adjusting himself through his pyjama pants. Mark turned his head and smirked at him. Richard saw him and grabbed at the steel collar. ‘Leave her alone!’ he shouted.

‘You don’t want that, Richard. Two hours. You both signed up to it.’

‘Get off of her!’

Mark paused just as Nadine bucked wildly on the bed. She fell back, panting.

‘I tell you what. Because I’m nice, I’ll give you a get-out clause. If either of you can tell me what my name is, I’ll stop right now. But, until that time…’ Mark leaned forward, trailing his fingernails up Nadine’s shins and coming to rest just above her kneecaps.

She tensed, ‘Oh, God, no… Don’t do that!’

‘Maybe I won’t. Maybe I will. That’s up to Richard, here. He was showing such great sincerity on Friday, I’m sure he took in every piece of information I told him. What do you say, Richard? What’s the safe word; what’s my name?’

Richard grimaced. ‘Roger!’ he said, doubtfully.

‘Oh,’ Mark’s grin dropped into a look of despondence. He began to retreat and Richard and Nadine felt momentarily hopeful. ‘Do I really look like a Roger to you!?’ He smiled.

‘NOOO!’ cried Nadine as Mark leant forward and squeezed just above both kneecaps. She erupted into out-and-out hysterics as he pressed and squeezed and probed rapidly into the undeniable nerves that had the power to send her crazy.

Richard again yanked at the chain but regretted doing so and fell from his knees onto his butt.

The devil on Mark’s shoulder was in full control as he drank in the sight of Nadine’s wide-eyed panic. Each time she bucked and thrusted on the mattress, he was also able to see up her top – her pert breasts silhouetted against the light from her collar.

‘That’s enough!’ shouted Richard. ‘Let her go!’ Mark turned to him and saw that he was holding a glass perfume bottle; ready to throw it.

Mark frowned. ‘Two things: one, you’ve forgotten that if you don’t just let me continue, you go to prison. Two, if you throw that you may hit me but you may also hit Nadine. Put it down.’

Richard sheepishly rested the bottle back on the window sill and drooped in defeat.

‘Besides,’ said Mark, ‘You haven’t guessed my name yet. I didn’t say you only had one go!’

Richard was gobsmacked. ‘Ian! Reginald! Gordon! Michael! Robert! John! Jonathan…!’

Mark just shook his head and Nadine’s eyes widened as his hands returned to her waist. Before she could protest, she erupted into laughter once more. This time, his hands crept expertly from her waist to her lower ribcage. The volume of her hilarity was such that Richard was having to yell his desperate guesses in order to be heard.

Mark’s fingertips worked their way up inside Nadine’s top, which was now damp with perspiration. As he reached higher, she threw her head back further and stretched her neck, seemingly in a subconscious attempt to escape from the maddening sensations that were plaguing her body.

‘Get off her tits!’ Richard screamed.

‘I’m not on her tits,’ Mark said, actually a little thankful that he’d been reminded that he didn’t want to begin groping her. After so many years of just tickling lovers, there was a natural tendency to switch seamlessly between tickling and sex. ‘I was about to go here!’ He said and scurried his fingertips onto the wonderfully smooth skin of Nadine’s armpits.

She screamed again and went ballistic with laughter but this time her panic found an alternative method of escape as she flipped her body and landed on her front. Whilst this meant that her arms and legs were now awkwardly twisted and Mark could no longer see the addictive reactions on her face, new possibilities opened themselves up to him.

Meanwhile, Nadine was panting and trying to gather her thoughts to conclude whether or not this was, indeed, the flawless defensive move it currently seemed to be. Then she felt Mark’s weight straddle her bottom and she was pinned in place.

‘Back to it!’ Mark teased and unleashed his fingertips back into her armpits.

Nadine howled with laughter. This was even worse! Somehow he was in an even better position to wriggle his fingers into her armpits and play her like an instrument as he swapped between torturing her armpits, her ribs and her absurdly ticklish waist! The whole time accompanied by the sound of her stupid husband shouting out a series of names she’d never heard in her life! She tried to thrash and dodge the infuriating touches but her tangled limbs plus her tormentor’s weight pinning her into the mattress meant that she wasn’t able to move a muscle.

After at least fifteen minutes of non-stop tickling in this position, Mark’s cheeks ached because of the endless grin on his face. As well as her delicious laughter, he was hypnotised by this girl’s sexy body. As she had wriggled to escape him, her top had ridden up to expose her fit and sexy back, which featured two cute dimples just above her hips. He could also feel her firm bottom wriggling and shaking beneath him and, while his principles dictated that he wouldn’t grope her anywhere, he was still permitted to tickle her anywhere and he wondered how ticklish her buttocks would be.

He leant from the bed, picked up the briefcase and rested it on Nadine’s back. ‘Oooh!’ she exclaimed and shivered as the cold exterior of the suitcase met her sweat-covered skin. Mark opened up the case and produced from it a black ostrich feather. He set the briefcase to one side and proceeded to stroke the feather down her back.

She shivered again and let out involuntary sounds that teetered on the border between torment and enjoyment.

Meanwhile, Richard’s mind was overloaded with what he was witnessing. He had lost count of the number of names he’d announced and couldn’t remember which ones they were.

Mark trickled the feather up and down Nadine’s back. She slowly writhed and, while she had been burying her laughter into the pillowcases, now she rested her head sideways and cooed out sounds of pleasure.

Mark looked to Richard with a sense of victory, but there was more he wanted to do.

‘Bart!’ Richard cried.

‘Shh. You’ve got one guess left,’ said Mark, trying to give Nadine the space to enjoy the sensuous tickling. With one hand he caressed the dimples on her lower back with the feather and with the other he folded down the waist of her shorts. He watched as the sublime curves of her buttocks became visible and he hummed appreciation.

All of a sudden Nadine jolted and squeaked. Mark looked back to his feather, which was now teasing at her coccyx. Exhausted from the harsh tickling and spaced out by the feather treatment, she began to giggle and moan at the same time. Her thighs rubbed together under Mark, causing him to feel a renewed surge of arousal.

Richard couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘Stop! Please!’

‘Three quarters of an hour left,’ said Mark. ‘You had the chance to stop it. I’m not hurting her, I’m making her laugh, I’m not leaving any bruises or marks of any kind…’ The feather began to trail further down, between her buttocks, causing Nadine to mew for satisfaction. Mark folded the waistband down further to completely expose her bottom. He could see a glistening between the lower part of her buttocks that he suspected was not sweat.

Suddenly, it hit Richard: ‘Mark!’

Mark froze and sighed. ‘Well done.’ He forced himself to remember that he wasn’t there to do anything but punish the young couple. He took one last look at Nadine’s matchless body and raised the waist of her shorts over the curve of her bottom. She gave an unmistakable whimper of disappointment that caused Mark to smile and Richard’s heart to sink.

Mark released Nadine’s wrists and ankles. She turned and looked at him with submissive confusion. He picked up his briefcase and dropped the key to her husband’s leash on the sheet next to her.

‘You keep that,’ he said. ‘Something tells me this won’t be the only time you use it.’

– – – – –

Mark closed the front door behind him as he stepped out into the snow-filled street. He hesitated, half-hoping that the door would open and Nadine would insist he come in and finish what he started.

After a minute he smiled. ‘You’ve had one dream come true today, Anderson. Don’t be greedy!’ he said to himself and headed for home.


PART 2

Perhaps it was because it was the first day of summer, or perhaps it was because for over six months he hadn’t experienced the kind of action he craved, or perhaps it was because he had just that day finished a big assignment that involved managing and personally providing security for a state government event, which had occupied his mind for weeks… but Mark Anderson was horny.

It was the kind of horny that couldn’t be ignored. If there had been a wife or girlfriend waiting for him when he opened the front door, he would have immediately whisked her off to the bedroom. In one respect he was grateful that he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend at home because that scenario would see the sex over and done with in a matter of seconds and, in general, he was a man who liked to take his time.

Still, he was virtually delirious with libidinousness and needed to shake it off in order to think of a plan so he went to the bedroom, discarded his tactical gear and took a cold shower – aiming the spray from the shower head directly at his crotch for longer than was comfortable; until the temptation to relieve himself had passed.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, broke open a frosty bottle of beer and dropped onto the sofa. Yes, he could easily spend a night indoors and eventually take care of himself before bed; however, the urge to touch the flesh of a woman—to tickle a woman; to touch the tender parts; to watch her face as she reacted in surprise; to let his ears drink in the delicious sounds of her laughter—was more necessary than simple relief.

The memory of what he had done to the wonderfully sexy and loose-lipped young bride, Nadine, was something he had thought about every day since it happened, and the humiliation of her bumptious little shit of a husband had made him feel even more powerful than his usual self and was the icing on the cuckold-cake.

There was always the temptation to again turn up on their doorstep and demand a repeat experience. The way he felt right now, and the knowledge that he could be at their place in less than 20 minutes, almost made him grab for his car keys. But, no: he didn’t just want a repeat performance – he wanted something exciting with someone new.

At work, he had since been on the lookout for a guilty party with a gorgeous wife or girlfriend who would be easy to blackmail in the same way but, alas, nothing so far and six months was more than enough time to wait for such a thing!

‘Damnit!’ he said, slamming down his empty beer bottle. All these thoughts of cuckold tickling had turned him on again. He dropped to the floor and, without counting, did as many push-ups as he could but it was no good – the sexual energy he felt inside hadn’t dissipated.

‘Well, you’re not going to find excitement sitting here, Marky-boy,’ he said to himself and went to the bedroom to get dressed for a night out.

The sun was setting as he closed the door behind him. As he stepped over to a waiting taxi, he glanced up and down the empty street. He had the feeling he was being followed recently but put it down to the level of alertness he had maintained every day for the past few weeks at work.

‘Where to, Boss?’ said the driver as he got in.

‘I need a change of scenery. You know any bars for singletons outside the city?’

‘Sure do, Boss.’

‘Okay, let’s go, and I will thank you for the night I have ahead of me!’

25 minutes later Mark found himself on a sidewalk outside a saloon in a humble town north Detroit. A waitress leant against the window, smoking a cigarette and deliberately looking in the opposite direction.

Well, hell, Mark thought to himself, if this is bar is the washout it appears to be I’ll either have to get a cab back to the city or spend the evening perusing the window of the bookstore next door and hope to meet some other lost soul who also came to this town by mistake!

‘Hi. Singles night tonight, is it?’ he asked the waitress.

In response she raised her eyebrows and thumbed towards the entrance.

Mark smiled a silent thank you in solidarity with the mute community of the hospitality industry and entered the saloon. If the place felt cramped, it was nothing to do with the patronage: one old geezer sat in the corner by the jukebox, dressed in a jacket and tie; an overweight lady who had obviously made an effort and sat up in her seat as Mark entered; and a dude with slicked hair who was already chatting up the overweight lady and whose resentment at his arrival equalled her enthusiasm. A bartender leant against the drinks shelf as he texted his friends and on the corner of the bar closest to the entrance, a letter-sized sheet of paper in a perspex frame read: Singles Night! Mark wondered whether the exclamation mark was intended to make up for the excitement that was otherwise lacking.

Thankfully, there appeared to be one highlight – a raven-haired woman in thigh-high leather boots sitting on a bar stool with her back to the rest of the room. Mark stepped to the bar, leaving a few seats between them. ‘Hi,’ Mark said to the bartender, interrupting his cell-phone trance, ‘A bottle of Bud, thanks.’

The bartender delivered the beer and instantly slumped back into his previous pose.

‘This town must be full of married couples,’ said Mark to the woman.

She looked at him, ‘Huh?’

‘Well, if these are the only singles in town, it says something about the strength of relationships around here.’

‘Or that everyone is indoors watching Jeopardy,’ she replied.

‘That’s the other option. I’m Mark,’ he said, holding out his hand. The woman hesitated and, at the same moment, a huge figure dressed in biker leathers stepped out from the men’s room and blocked out all lights behind him as he approached the bar.

‘You ready?’ he said, evidently to her, although his eyes were locked on Mark.

‘Yeah, Sugar,’ she said, swiftly swivelling on her seat.

‘Have a nice night,’ she said to Mark.

Mark politely nodded them both a good night, which did nothing to diminish the snarl on the man’s upper lip, and they left. He was about to roll his eyes when the door was stopped from closing completely and in stepped a very cute blonde lady in a white skirt-suit.

It was Slick’s turn to be distracted by the newcomer but the overweight lady increased her volume to bring his attention back to her.

The blonde looked around and noticed Mark watching her. A smile of acknowledgement flitted across her lips and she caught the barman’s attention.

‘Vodka orange, please,’ she said.

‘I’ll get that,’ said Mark, tossing down ten dollars. She opened her mouth to protest but Mark spoke first, ‘Please. You may want to be on your own or you may have an army of lovers joining you soon, but for now accept a drink from me and I’ll be here if you’d like some friendly chat. No pressure.’

‘That’s very nice of you,’ she smiled. ‘I’ve given my army of lovers the night off, so I’d be happy to chat with you.’

‘How fortunate. I was just preempting any reason you might not want to talk to me.’

‘I don’t know why yet but if we talk for a bit, I’ll come up with something original.’

‘Great! I do hate common excuses. I’m Mark.’

‘Diane,’ she said. They shook hands. Hers was so dainty in his that it hit home to him how diminutive she was.

She must have been around five-foot-nothing but was in heels that gave her an extra three inches. She took a stool next to him and, as her drink arrived, Mark stole the opportunity to look at her legs, which were in great shape for a woman in her mid-forties. It occurred to him that she was the antithesis of the woman who just left: from the leather-clad vixen with long-black hair to the white-clad blonde with a gold clutch bag – from femme fatale to absolute angel. Plus, the woman in black was obviously coupled up and hopefully Diane was not.

She crossed her legs and dangled a shoe from her toes as she continued. Mark had to prevent himself from letting out a lustful hum.

‘What do you do for work, Mark?’ she said with a cheeky air.

‘I’m in security.’

‘You mean, like, sitting in the reception of a building overnight?’

‘No. It’s a bit more comprehensive than that. I manage a team and sometimes provide personal security.’

‘So you protect people and you know self defence kinda stuff?’

‘That’s all part of it, yeah.’

She looked impressed. Then she reached out and felt his bicep. Mark was thankful that he’d done push-ups before leaving the house.

‘You’re here for the singles night, I take it?’ said Diane.

‘Yeah, but until you arrived I was considering giving my cab driver a pretty low rating for recommending the place. Are you here for the same reason?’

Diane nodded as she sipped her drink. ‘Sure. And I’m glad you’re here.’

Mark smirked, a little confused. If she was being serious, this was the quickest he’d ever made a connection with someone. He was definitely attracted to her, but to know if she was truly his type, he had to check something:

‘Aww, now you’re just having me on!’ he said and leant to prod her in the waist.

She seemed to sense what he was going to do before he did it. ‘Eee!’ she squealed, and her waist retreated until she had to jump down off the chair. ‘Don’t do that!’

This time Mark did let out an inspired moan but a coinciding bass tone from the jukebox covered it from everyone else’s ears.

‘And I’m not having you on!’ she said as she got back on her chair. ‘I’ve just got a feeling about you. Do you ever get that?’

‘Sometimes,’ Mark smiled.

‘In fact, I’m already tired of this place. What do you say we get out of here?’

‘Where are you thinking?’

‘Well… I hope I’m not being too forward, but my place is free.’

Mark could hardly believe his luck: he’d found the one woman in Michigan who was just as eager to meet someone as he was.

‘There’s nothing wrong with being forward,’ he said. ‘It’s actually pretty refreshing.’ She smiled and blushed. He found her nervousness cute. ‘Where do you live?’

In response she hopped down from her stool. ‘Come on,’ she said.

Mark didn’t have to be told twice and, as she lead the way to her car, he didn’t take much notice of anything except her ankles in those sexy white heels. His luck just kept getting better as she took off her shoes to drive and revealed her perfectly pedicured feet. He was grateful that she had to keep her eyes on the road as he was able to keep watching her painted toes as they alternated between the gas and brake pedals.

On the walk up her driveway, he was hypnotised by the natural wiggle of her butt in her tight white leather skirt.

‘I should warn you of something…’ she said as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

‘Oh?’ Mark’s footsteps slowed for the first time, expecting her to announce something like: By the way, I live with my ex-boyfriend.

She waited until the door was closed behind him before saying, ‘I’m a little bit kinky.’

This was unreal! Mark leant in and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He went to kiss her but she avoided him and presented her neck. Mark opened his mouth and allowed his tongue to flicker against her skin. She giggled and shirked away from him.

‘Don’t do that! I told you I’m ticklish!’ she said, shrugging off the shivers. Mark’s engine revved but he noticed an element of annoyance to her tone. ‘Make yourself at home on the sofa. I’m just going to freshen up.’

Again, Mark took enjoyment in watching her walk up the stairs with her shoes in-hand, gaining the briefest of glimpses of her soles as she went.

He sat on the sofa and took up a magazine from her coffee table, then tossed it straight back to where it had been – there was no way he could concentrate on anything else.

Okay: she doesn’t like being tickled but, sorry Diane, you wanted this package to come home with you and I am a tickler, plain and simple. If you want to get the goods, you’ve gotta let me do my thing! That’s not too much to ask, is it? Especially as I’ll give you everything you want when I’ve had my fun!

‘I’m ready!’ she called from upstairs.

With a deliberate slowness and heavy footsteps intended to generate anticipation in Diane’s mind as well as primal feelings in himself—like a lion approaching the scent of a cornered young deer—Mark trod up the stairs. He passed the bathroom and was about to test the handle of a closed door when Diane called, ‘Over here.’

Mark turned to see her standing in the doorway of the master bedroom, a four-poster bed behind her. She was now wearing five-inch black high heels and a low-cut short, tight black dress that showed off her delicious legs. He growled in delight and stepped towards her, intent on lifting her straight onto the bed.

She backed away and raised her hand towards him. ‘Uh-uh!’ she commanded and Mark found himself poked in the chest by something in her hand – a riding crop.

Mark looked from the crop to Diane. ‘I thought…’

‘You thought, because I said I was kinky, that I would allow you to dominate me. Right?’

Mark signified that she was correct.

‘Well, I’m not submissive,’ she said. ‘But, if you will let me dominate you first, there is a chance that I will switch for you.’

He looked her up and down and recalled how ticklish she was. If he gave himself over to her desires, it would be rude of her to deny him the intense tickling he had in store for her. Plus, he was more than capable of enduring a period of crop-whipping in order to do so. If anything, it might even get him more fired up. He saw a little twitch of nervousness on her cheek and found it cute.

‘Sure,’ he said.

‘Good,’ she replied and pointed her crop toward the far end of the room.

A large wrought iron bondage table stood in a space beyond the foot of the bed. He went over to it – it was unlike any table he’d seen before: a leather-padded back support with two adjustable arm supports and two leg supports that seemed capable of bending at the knee. At the end of each limb support were some very sturdy straps. The leather smelt new.

‘You take this seriously then, Diane?’

‘You have no idea,’ she said. ‘Strip to your underwear.’

He was a little apprehensive about laying prone in front of a woman he’d only just met but, in the battle of reasoned thinking, horniness conquered any feeling of unease and he began to disrobe. He liked how she watched him – trying to mask her nervousness and how much she appreciated his physique with her dominatrix persona.

Soon, he stood before her in just his boxer shorts and socks but still felt like the most powerful person in the room.

‘Onto the bench; arms up,’ she pronounced.

He smirked, got onto the bench and laid down. Her hands were shaking as she hurriedly strapped his wrists.

‘How many times have you done this?’ he asked.

Diane didn’t answer. She rolled down the tops of his socks so that the wrist straps were firmly against his skin. As she did so, her fingernails brushed lightly at his ankles and Mark had to focus hard not to twitch or react. His mind went to his theory that men of his age had likely grown out of being ticklish. This was also a feeling he had about himself because it hadn’t happened to him for such a long time that he couldn’t picture it affecting him in the same way it had as a younger man. Then again, the sensations he just felt weren’t proper tickling – he suggested to himself that he would have reacted the same way if a mosquito had landed on him…

Or would I? he thought. I don’t remember ever feeling the compulsion to smile whenever I’ve felt an insect on me.

I slight nervousness came over him as he realised that this was almost the same position as he had been when a woman tied him down and introduced him to the world of tickle torture around thirty years ago. The event was distant but elements of it were still vivid in his mind. After all, that experience had shaped his sexual preferences ever since—but only from a topping perspective—he told himself he didn’t want to be on the receiving end again.

One thought consoled him: Diane was evidently averse to being tickled, and people so utterly opposed to the act rarely ever considered doing it to others. Besides – you can’t very well tickle someone with a riding crop!

Mark managed to contain his need to wriggle at the light, unintentional strokes around his ankles and Diane soon had them as tightly secured as his wrists. She then stood by his side and turned a crank located under the back support. Mark felt himself being stretched tight to the metallic clicking of the chains attached to the restraints.

This whole time Diane had avoided eye contact. She stood back and cast an eye over her handiwork. She seemed to be less nervous now that he was immobilised.

‘How many times have you done this?’ Mark repeated.

‘I heard you before,’ she said.

‘I only ask because this bench smells very new—’

‘It is.’

‘…and because, to whip someone with a riding crop, you usually want them on their front!’ he gave a cocky smirk and awaited her response. He suspected she would either curse herself and have to release him so that he could turn over, or cover her error with a dominant façade and a little improvised play until a time when she could have him turn over without the appearance of being fallible.

She did neither and instead called out: ‘Nadine!’

He faltered. In a split second his mind ran the gamut of reasons for her to say this.

He heard another door open – the room next to the bathroom. Soft footsteps approached and Nadine appeared in the doorway.

Mark’s mouth was frozen into being about to say something that began with W, but he didn’t know which question to ask first.

‘Just to be 100% sure, this is him, right?’ Diane asked Nadine.

Nadine nodded. She sat at the top end of the bed and hugged one of the pillows.

Finally Diane looked Mark in the eye. This was a woman Mark hadn’t met until now. Her demeanour looked positively vengeful. Something told him this was the real Diane.

‘What’s going on?’ Mark asked.

‘I take it you recognise my daughter?’ said Diane.

The hairs stood up all over Mark’s body. He didn’t answer.

‘She told me that you paid her and her husband a visit some time ago. You blackmailed her. You tied her up. You put her through and ordeal. And you ruined her husband.’

Mark could only bring himself to address the one untruth: ‘I didn’t ruin him! I didn’t say a word! He still has his job!’

‘That’s not what she means!’ snapped Nadine.

‘Poor Richard can’t get it up any more unless she talks to him about what you did!’

The sternness with which Diane delivered this news struck Mark as amusing and he bit his cheeks to combat an impulse to smirk. This impulse wasn’t helped by a leap in his pride for having achieved an indelible dominance over the arrogant young man.

‘She told me about the whole thing. I’ve been following you for weeks – waiting for the right opportunity to get justice,’ she said.

‘What do you mean, “Justice”?’ he asked.

‘I’ve met people like you before: kinky men who have their obsessions. From what Nadine says, I think it’s pretty obvious what your obsession is.’

Mark’s mind was racing with all the dangers that could be in store for him. With a physical response being out of the question, he was left to rely on his training to deescalate situations in a calm manner. ‘Can I ask one thing?’ he asked in a low, confident tone.

‘What?’

‘Is Diane your real name?’

‘Perhaps I should say, “no,” and ask you to guess it while I torture you, hm?’

He resisted the urge to lick his lips. ‘I can understand how you feel about this, I really can. If you let me out of here, we can talk it over and—’

‘Blah, blah, blah!’ interrupted Nadine. ‘You can’t talk your way out of this! Richard’s like a different person now!’

‘I can talk to him and things will go back to the way they were.’

‘Don’t talk shit!’ she snapped. ‘And stop pretending to be so calm. It’s irritating!’

He didn’t argue with her. His manner may have been convincing but the beads of sweat he could feel forming on his forehead were a giveaway.

Diane’s nervousness had disappeared completely.

‘What do you want?’ Mark asked.

Without warning, Diane clamped both hands around his lower ribcage and began to tickle him.

Mark gasped and his back arched in response. He bit his lips closed and held his breath but the intensity of the sensation was undeniable. His face rapidly warmed to a crimson and veins pulsed in his brow as the inevitable grew closer. Diane watched him with vindictive interest; unsure from his expression whether he was about to laugh or cry as he fought against his natural vulnerability.

Impatient for results, Diane pressed a little harder and moved more rapidly. The result was more painful and, as a result, less potent. Mark allowed himself to audibly breathe through it as he managed his reactions.

Frustrated at the sight of him starting cope with the sensations, Diane grabbed his waist and pressed her thumbs in the muscles just above his hips. Mark exploded into a deep, masculine laughter that filled the room.

Diane sighed with a satisfied, ‘Ahhhh!’ that sounded almost sexual.

Mark lifted his head, his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched tight—totally incapable of any other movement—as he attempted to endure the maddening sensations at his waist.

‘Why are you laughing, Mark? Do you like this?’ she taunted and vibrated her thumbs rapidly into the same spots.

Mark couldn’t answer and laughter rasped from the back of his cheeks.

Diane prodded all around his waist and sides. Laughter again blared from his mouth as her little fingers danced over his vulnerable muscles.

There were many humiliating aspects to this scenario but Mark couldn’t help but recognise that one of the most humiliating was that Diane was a woman and over a foot shorter than him. In any other circumstance he would be able to overpower with no trouble at all, yet here she was in complete control. Also, he could sense that she was not a natural tickler; she didn’t have the deft touch of someone who was experienced in tickle techniques and so it was doubly humiliating that, as a non-tickle fetishist, she was able to undermine him as easily as she was currently doing!

Her fingertips tapped up his ribs. ‘Oh, God!’ he finally managed to say amid his laughter, ‘Oh, God, stop!’

‘Stop? I don’t think so! I’ve only just started! I think I’ll try your armpits next…’

‘No!’ he cried with telltale desperation. ‘Not there, please!’

‘Right… you know that means I’m definitely going there!’

Mark’s sense of utter helplessness had an enhancing effect on his sensitivity. Without losing contact, Diane stepped between Mark’s arms and looked down on him. He let out an embarrassingly shrill laugh of despair as she danced her fingertips up and down his ribs, getting closer to his armpits each time she went up until, finally, she jumped her fingers directly into his hyper-sensitive hairy pits.

‘Noooo-ho-ho-ho-ho-hoooo!’ he howled, collapsing into hysterics. He tried desperately to shake her off but instead succeeded in making her laugh at his unintentional horizontal shoulder-shimmy dance.

‘Ha! Are you sure this is the man who tried to dominate you, Nadie? He doesn’t seem like a man in control right now; to me he looks and sounds like a ticklish little weed! What do you say?’

Mark was unable to form any words but looked sideways at Nadine through a mist of sweat and tears of laughter. Nadine was hugging the pillow tight, watching him with a vindictive snarl on her lips.

‘Pleeeehhh…! Pleeeehhh…!’ Mark attempted to beg but time and time again laughter stole the end of each word.

‘Yaieeegh!’ he cried in surprise as Diane appeared, unnoticed at his ear. She spoke into it with gentle, breathy whispers. Mark instinctively pressed his ear against his shoulder.

‘Don’t avoid me! Give me your ear!’ she demanded and scrabbled her fingernails into his armpits.

Mark wailed with laughter and reluctantly turned his head.

‘Do you understand the trouble you’re in right now?’ she whispered. ‘Don’t you know that there’s nothing that compares to the wrath of a mother who seeks revenge for her daughter?’

Her breath invaded his ear canal and tickled the hairs all the way down. It felt like she was tickling his brain! The left side of his body broke out into goose-pimples. Mark nodded as emphatically as he could. Diane saw a gap and placed her mouth on his neck.

‘Oh, God!’ he cried involuntarily. ‘Oh, God, n-not thattt!’

Diane moaned in satisfaction and flicked her tongue all over his neck. A wail was forced from his throat as his neck and armpits were simultaneously attacked.

Mark was lost in hysterics. Strangely, he had never felt as in the moment as he did right now. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t talk, he could hear nothing but the sound of his own laughter and all he could feel was the incessant tickling.

Finally, Diane stood up straight. Her hands wandered from Mark’s armpits and she let her nails caress his triceps. He wanted to writhe at the feeling but, of course, he couldn’t.

‘I feel there are a lot more parts of your body to be explored, but I’m quite happy here!’ said Diane, plucking at his pits and causing him to yelp. ‘Nadie? Want to help me?’

Nadine was uncertain that she wanted to until she saw how terrified he was at the prospect.

‘Sure!’ she said. She threw the pillow to one side and hopped off the bed. ‘What should I do?’

‘I think you should try his knees,’ said Diane.

‘No! Please!’ Mark begged.

‘You mean, do this?’ asked Nadine, as she took a grip above each of his kneecaps.

As inexperienced as she was, the young woman pinpointed exactly the right spots. Mark cried out in desperate laughter. ‘Nooo! Not that! Ha ha ha ha! Not there! P-Pleeeee-ha ha ha ha!’

‘Looks like you hit the spot!’ said Diane and she launched her fingertips back into his armpits.

Again, Mark tried frantically to beg for them to stop but laughter extinguished everything but the first letter of each word.

After a while Mark heard Nadine say, ‘I want a go on his feet.’

His eyes widened in terror at the idea.

In the midst of his torture an absurdly analytical part of Mark’s mind appeared to be taking a seat by the fire, complete with pipe and slippers, and analysing all the reasons why this ordeal was especially humiliating for him. One particularly insightful observation was that Mark was a tickle fetishist and he loved inflicting the exact same kind of torture on others that he was currently enduring. He prided himself on how relatively rare a lover he was: sadistic, yes, but also skilled and sensual. He liked to consider that tickling was an art form at which he was an expert. Therefore, the unceremonious nature with which his socks were yanked off and the unconsidered ease with which this mother-and-daughter team were persecuting him was more humiliating and dispiriting than he could ever admit.

He felt the cool rush of air on his feet as his socks were discarded.

Diane paused. ‘Ready?’ she asked Nadine.

‘Yep!’ Nadine replied.

‘Wait!’ cried Mark.

‘What for?’ asked Diane.

‘Please! Please, no more! I can’t stand it!’

‘Oh, I’m sorry! Did you stop when my daughter begged you to…?’

A look of regret grew on Mark’s face.

‘Thought not!’ Diane’s hands jumped and pressed and wriggled all over Mark’s torso, from his waist to his ribs; from his stomach to his armpits and back again. The unpredictableness of her attacks left him utterly unable to resist.

Whilst this torment was overwhelming, he was aware that there was not yet anything going on with his feet. Through his howls of laughter he could hear Diane saying, ‘Are you going to join in?’

‘His feet are so big, I don’t know where to start!’ said Nadine.

Then she went for it…

Mark reacted as though he’d received an almighty electric shock: his back lifted off the table and he thrashed his head as a loud, unending bellow of laughter shook the entire house.

Nadine’s fingernails scrabbled up, down and around Mark’s feet. In absolute turmoil, he could no longer work out what tickled the most – the hands all over his upper body or the fingernails tormenting his helpless soles and toes.

Over the following hour the observer in his mind went back and forth on the subject. Rational thoughts were scrambled and his unending ticklishness was exploited until desperation turned to delirium.

Eventually, sadistic enjoyment faded from Nadine’s expression. She realised that, while this was fun and somewhat cathartic, it wasn’t going to change her circumstances.

Diane noticed Nadine slow to a stop and stopped herself.

‘Are you finished, Nadie?’

‘Yeah. I’m gonna go home.’

Mark panted. Flushed and dripping with sweat, he couldn’t express the relief he felt that the ordeal was over.

‘What have you got to say to her??’ Diane barked at him.

‘I’m sorry! I’m very sorry! I’ll never do it again!’ he said quickly.

Nadine said no more to him. ‘Are you going to be alright with him, mom?’

‘Yeah. You go home. I’ll call you after I’ve kicked him out,’ said Diane.

Nadine kissed her mother on the cheek and, with one final glance of contempt at her former torturer, she left.

Diane waited until the front door closed before she moved to Mark’s legs.

‘Thank you for stopping. I promise I won’t do it again,’ he said.

‘Don’t thank me,’ she said. ‘I’m not finished with you yet.’

It was then that Mark noticed a pair of scissors in her hand. He yanked at the restraints. ‘Wait! What the fuck are you going to do with those?’

‘I’ll show you. Stay still.’

She lowered the scissors to Mark’s groin. He panicked and fought the compulsion to shuffle away. As he watched, she lifted the leg of his boxer shorts and snipped right through it. She then did the same with the other leg, pulled them away and threw the scissors onto the bed.

Mark lay, naked and speechless, as Diane crouched out of view. There were some clinks and clunks as she made adjustments to the structure of the bench. She then raised a bar, which effortlessly lifted and bent Mark’s legs until he was in a seated position on his back with his legs parted. Two more clunks and he was again secured and more prone than he had ever felt before.

‘I couldn’t have my daughter present for this next part,’ said Diane. ‘Imagine what your employees would say if they could see you now: tough Mr Mark, all helpless and being forced to giggle like a ticklish weakling by little ol’ me!’

Mark was genuinely affronted by this image but before he could say anything, he felt fingernails begin to gently rake over his butt. He twitched and wriggled uncomfortably as he attempted to control his breathing. Had this been the first thing she had done to him, he would have potentially been able to control his reactions but his defences were demolished and he slid into regretful giggles.

‘And he’s got a ticklish bum!’ she taunted.

‘G-get off me!’ he said amid the giggles. He was beginning to feel a real resentment at what she was doing to him.

‘N-not yet!’ she mimicked. Her fingers crept up, under his thighs.

He involuntarily snickered through his nose as the inescapable fingernails crawled towards his groin. ‘No! NOT THERE—!’ he cried, but before he could finish, her fingers invaded the creases at the top of his legs and she began to tickle his testicles.

Mark erupted into hysterics. ‘OhGodOhNo! NotThatPlease! I’ll do anything! I’ll do ANYTHING! PLEASE, DIANE!!! HAHAHAHAHAAA!’

‘I’m glad to hear it!’ she said. As one hand continued to tickle his balls, the other crept up to tickle up and down the underside of his cock. He elevated into a deeper state of hilarity; thrashing his head back and forth as she swapped between tickling and stroking his cock.

An energy began to build in him. He was reminded that he began this night feeling extremely horny. The torture he had been forced to endure all evening distracted him from that, but now he felt his desires rise again. The paradox of being tortured and forced into being hard at the same time confused him: he hated the torture but he loved it at the same time and this dainty woman was tickle-torturing him; a tall, strong, confident, successful man who just hours ago was protecting members of the US government!

He threw his head back and his hearty laughter echoed around the building. He was beaten. Even begging was pointless. All he could do was laugh!

Just then he felt warmth. He looked down – Diane was sucking him. It felt incredible but she was still tickling his balls. Tickling… tickling… tickl…

Mark threw his head back and roared with a mix of laughter and euphoria as he ejaculated with an intensity that almost cause him to black out.

Diane stood and let his dick go. It flopped onto his stomach and continued to pulse for several minutes. Exhausted, he almost fell asleep but was stirred as he felt the straps being released.

– – – – –

Diane opened the door and Mark stepped out onto the driveway.

‘Thank you for not reporting Richard to the cops,’ said Diane, ‘But I’m serious – never do that to Nadine again. Next time I might have to keep torturing you after you’ve come.’

Mark nodded and she closed the door.

He knew where he was and decided to walk the hour it would take to go home by foot. It had been too long since he’d experienced anything like this and he hated to admit it, but he already knew that he may have to visit Diane again.

THE END

 

[ticklishbod20]

Good god this is sensational!

 

[letsi]

Your stories are breathtaking, I'm absolutely into cuckoldry tickling! You are by far the most interesting writer; hope there is more to come soon! 😍

 

[Brody27]

Great story! I enjoyed both parts. Thanks for writing and sharing.

 

[TamiraK]

Good god this is sensational!

I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Your stories are breathtaking, I'm absolutely into cuckoldry tickling! You are by far the most interesting writer; hope there is more to come soon! ��

Thank you, letsi! Yes, I do like exploring the element of a third party being involved in the dynamic of the scene as an invested viewer rather than a participant – it feels like it adds an extra layer to the story. 😈

Great story! I enjoyed both parts. Thanks for writing and sharing.

Thank you, Brody27. You are most welcome! 🙂