Real Life Retired Executive Tickle Session (40-60somethings; fm/multiple f)

[TobiAndyBuddy]

OMG...at last!!!

 

[BlueLine7045]

Damn. Definitely wanted Lisa to take part, but great stories so far

 

[pghtickleguy]

This is great. Looking forward to round 2

 

[quinn65]

On the rough outline there are maybe seven parts still to come, plus an epilogue that I just learned about yesterday.

As far as living the experience went, it only got better from here. Hopefully I can do it justice in the story.

Again, many thanks for the feedback! I've heard writers out here say how much they appreciate it, and now I'm learning firsthand. Makes it all worthwhile.

-Q.

 

[C4urself85]

Awesome stuff thus far. Setup has been great and now we're getting the sweet payoff. Very much looking forward to the rest. And my money is on Nancy to be the one who winds up in the box...

 

[TobiAndyBuddy]

Thoughts so far:
-So glad our first 2 contestants turned out to both be super ticklish!
-Love the descriptions, keep it up! No reason to rush, the details are worth taking time to get right because trust me...we the audience are savoring them. Thus far a very very well painted picture
-Who did you all expect to win the first round? Did any of it surprise you guys?
-Idk why but I personally was shocked that poor Ellen broke so quickly!! Seemed like she didn't expect it to tickle so bad (poor lady wasn't ready I guess 😉 but at least she enjoyed it! It seems like Tracy would have surely tapped out first if they'd started with her feet. Poor Ellen seems ticklish everywhere though!

 

[quinn65]

-Idk why but I personally was shocked that poor Ellen broke so quickly!! Seemed like she didn't expect it to tickle so bad (poor lady wasn't ready I guess 😉 but at least she enjoyed it! It seems like Tracy would have surely tapped out first if they'd started with her feet. Poor Ellen seems ticklish everywhere though!

Ellen responds to tickling the way she does everything - she just experiences it full-on. No fighting or trying to control her reactions, just straight to thrashing and belly laughter. She would be super fun to put through a longer session, and I bet she'd be up for it.

Tracy had some of the most ticklish feet I've seen, and I do think she'd have lost if the tickers started there. She went from pretty strong resistance to a complete hysterical wreck instantly when they shifted targets. I'd have loved to see her go into the tickle box. She was also probably the "flirtiest" all through the process of getting tied up, but she did get a little panicky just before the tickling started as the story describes, which was fun.

 

[quinn65]

Part VII: Hogtie Round, Turn 2 - Carol VS Anne

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Carol vs. Anne lookalike headshots and foot-type pics

But Nancy was to get a brief reprieve, as after some deliberation on the couches, the teams chose Carol and Anne for the next round. It looked like M and Nancy would be batting cleanup.

I tied Carol first. Imagine Jennifer Carpenter (who played Debra Morgan on Dexter) aged by ten years and sporting a shorter blonde haircut (longer than her LinkedIn lookalike pic; that night she had more of a “Karen” or “I want to speak to your manager” haircut), and you probably have a good approximation of Carol. She’s one of those tall, lanky, very fit women who to me just looks ticklish. And gauging from how nervous she was, that was probably an accurate call.

“You ok?” I asked as she sat on the mattress and peeled off her ankle socks. She looked at me with worried eyes and a desperate grin and said, in a voice an octave higher than normal, “No...” to chuckles all around. But she was smiling, and when I looked a little harder, she gave me a slight resigned nod. I suspect she sensed that her friends were anxious to see the tough jock get tickled, and was playing up her desperation a little for entertainment.

She pivoted to lay on her belly, feet up in "the pose" with her hands behind her back. I lashed her wrists together and pulled them up tight to tie off at the harness between her shoulders. Next I tied her ankles and pressed her heels down to her butt, securing her feet in place with another line to the harness. Carol was a foot-wiggler, endlessly flexing her toes and rubbing her feet together. To a guy like me who appreciates bigger feet, hers were gorgeous: probably size 11, long and narrow, with a fresh French pedicure in a light pink, almost clear polish. With Tracy out of the running, I harbored a secret hope that Carol might safeword fast and end up in the box for Round 2.

She twisted slowly right and left once I finished, testing the bonds, and simply said, "Okay then…shit." Tracy and Nancy took their tickler’s positions near her, smiling and waiting as Carol crossed her long bare feet back and forth over each other nervously.

Anne had been sitting and watching from the other mattress, and as I turned to tie her up, she eased onto her belly. She had been a vicious tickler earlier, so I thought she might be in for an ordeal from Ellen, not to mention M’s natural sadistic streak.

A decent celebrity approximation for Anne would be Lauren Graham of Gilmore Girls fame. She wasn’t the athlete that Carol was, but she wasn’t unfit. However, she lacked the flexibility of the other ladies, so I tied her wrists with her arms much straighter, and didn’t bring her heels down as close to her butt. Her legs were bent at about a 90 degree angle after I’d finished, nyloned feet emerging from her straight-legged jeans.

Still, she wriggled prettily in the ropes and grew flustered in a very cute way as her predicament sunk in. It was clear that Anne had never before done anything even remotely like this. Throughout the tie, she kept saying to herself, “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy…” It probably didn’t help that Ellen, sitting nearby, kept whispering threats of sweet revenge once the tickling started.

As I worked on Anne’s tie, I heard some commotion from the other mattress. It was Nancy trying to psych out Carol. “I don’t think Anne’s very ticklish, sport,” she teased. “How long can you hold out?” Then I heard Tracy whisper “get her toes!” as Carol started yelping. I turned to see Tracy grasping Carol’s feet as Nancy, with both hands, plucked at the athlete’s long wiggling toes with her nails.

“Hey now,” I warned. “Don’t make me throw a penalty flag.” With grins and flashing eyes they backed off. The watchers all buzzed excitedly and jostled for position.

Sara counted down once again for the one minute escape challenge. At “go!” Carol took a page from Ellen’s book and began to twist and buck violently in her ropes, maybe fighting to avoid a repeat of the toe tickling she’d just experienced. Anne just flapped her hands and kicked her feet and giggled, exclaiming “I can't move!” Needless to say, a minute later, both ladies were still firmly bound.

The tickle countdown came next, and as Sara began, Anne kept giggling while a soft mewling sound began forming in the back of Carol’s throat as Tracy grasped her kicking feet again. When Sara finally shouted “tickle!” Nancy dug her nails into Carol’s soles while Ellen and M began tickling Anne all over.

Carol was a fighter. Her feet were clearly quite ticklish, but instead of laughing for the first 10 seconds she only shouted “No! NO!! Nope! Aiii!!! Stop it! GET OFF!!!” Anne laughed right away, but I think it was as much from the ridiculousness of the situation as the sensation of tickling. Anne’s laugh was that of someone who had just heard a funny joke at a cocktail party. She squirmed and her feet kicked and tried to twist away, but despite Ellen and M’s best efforts, Anne’s struggles lacked a certain frantic quality.

Not so for Carol, whose will to fight had dissolved into hard laughs and begging. “Ok! Stop! Hahaha pleeease stop!!!” Nancy finally left the foot tickling to Tracy and scooted forward. “Hey sport, Anne’s holding out fine over there,” she chided. “You’d better give it up.” And she squeezed Carol’s hips.

With a “BAH!!!”, Carol exploded. The side and feet tickling together were too much for her. Her screaming laughs were laced with the occasional “NO!!!” and “PLEASE STOP!!!”, but she was pretty much gone. It looked like just a matter of time, and it was. Finally, exhausted, Carol safeworded, followed quickly by Anne.

Carol had lasted just under 3 minutes, putting her on the bubble for the tickle box round (yes!). Everyone decided that as much as she’d suffered, she deserved credit for coming close, so both she and Anne were also awarded $300 in gift certificates. In the overall standings, Tracy, Anne, and Nancy’s team were now ahead 2 to 0, which clinched their team win for the hogtie round.

Or did it?

Coming next...
PART VIII: HOGTIE ROUND, TURN 3 - SURPRISE ROUND!

 

[pghtickleguy]

Thank you so much for sharing these stories. Its literally like being there in person. The details are great and speaking for myself. I'm always waiting for the next installment.

 

[Hockeyfeet]

I’m literally running my phone every day to read these reviews. IM ADDICTED!!!

 

[okdremur]

Excellent post so far, now anxiously awaiting what's next!

 

[quinn65]

Part VIII: Hogtie Round, Turn 3 - Surprise Round!

The general laughter and buzz of conversation at the end of Carol and Anne’s turn was suddenly interrupted by an ear piercing girlish cry: “EEEEEEEEE!!!”

Everyone turned to find Kristen digging her fingers into the ribs of her sister – and one of our trusty timers – Sara. She had snuck up for a surprise attack as Carol and Anne were being untied.

“Tickle time!!!” Kristen shouted gleefully as her sister danced out of reach.

Sara laughed as she scrambled away. “Oh my God I HATED tickle time!”

“Remember tickle time?” Kristen asked M, who was laughing in surprise. “God, that was fun!”

“It was NOT fun!” shouted Sara crossly, but smiling despite herself. “You guys used to torture me to death!”

“What's this about?” I asked.

M answered. “When we were kids, and Sara used to follow us around to play, sometimes we’d all ambush and tickle her. ‘Tickle time’ sort of became a thing, as did that ‘EEEEE!’ laugh of Sara’s. Eventually we only had to say the words to get her running and screaming.”

“Sort of a thing?!” Sara protested. “You guys tortured me all the way through middle school, until Kristen went to college. I was traumatized!”

“Sounds like we have a grudge match in the making,” observed Ellen. “You two should have it out.”

“What, like a tickle fight?” Kristen asked.

“No,” said Ellen. “I mean, do a turn against each other right now. The loser might end up in the tickle box, right Quinn?”

“That’s right,” I answered.

“So there you go,” Ellen went on. "If you win, Sara, you might get revenge on your sister. It’s like a Shakespeare play!”

The two sisters eyed each other warily as the ladies egged them on. “I don’t want to be hogtied,” Kristen finally objected.

Greta, the professional problem solver, stepped up. “You could just move the skeleton and use the cot setup instead.”

“One at a time, though?” this from Anne, who was all about rules.

“Sure,” I said. “We can just time each of them separately.”

Ellen looked excitedly at Sara. “Then you’d definitely get to tickle her!” she said.

Sara turned and smiled at her sister. “I’ll do it if you will,” she challenged, to a chorus of oooohhhs.

“Ok, well…” Kristen stalled, looking around at her friends. “Who’d be on which team for the gift bags?”

“We’ll take Sara!” M cut in. “I like the revenge motive.”

“Works for us,” agreed Nancy for the other team. It looked like Kristen had just been volunteered, and my six ticklees suddenly became eight.

vs.
Kristen vs Sara lookalike headshots and foot-type pics

I moved the skeleton off the cot as Sara sat on the couch and took off her socks to go first. The sisters may have failed to consider this, but there would now be four ticklers on each of them – the entire opposing team.

A word about these two. Kristen and Sara are the kinds of people you immediately know will be among the nicest you’ll ever meet. They are – and I mean this as a compliment with loads of affection – “Wisconsin moms". Conventionally pretty, fun, sweet, quick to laugh, easy to shock, corny senses of humor, helpful to a fault...they’re the ones in a friend group who hold it all together and give the moody, intense, eccentric friends the freedom to act crazy.

Kristen and Sara’s features leave no doubt that they’re related, but Sara comes off as cute and perky and maybe a little "rough and tumble" where Kristen is more reserved, but funny in a wry sort of way. Sara looks to be in her early 40s but is probably just under 50, and Kristen, in her mid-50s, is M’s age. Sara is fit and scrappy, where Kristen looks like an actress sent from central casting to play an attractively curvy suburban mom.

Sara fidgeted restlessly as I cuffed and strapped her down to the cot. Her toes in particular began wiggling like crazy when I secured the ankle cuffs, which was awfully cute. She had smaller, smooth, and very pretty feet, maybe size 6. “Can we try to escape first?” she asked anxiously as I finished.

“Sure, you can try…” I answered. If you’ve ever been in medical restraints, there’s no getting out. But I didn’t mind watching her make the attempt.


Callback pic of the cot where Sara and Kristen took their turns (LOL model Lynn)

Lisa happily took over solo timer duties and called out the escape countdown once Sara was secure. At “go!”, Sara strained and bounced and twisted, and it was fun to watch, but she only succeeded in turning bright pink and exhausting herself. She was held fast.

At this point – along with Tracy, Anne, and Nancy – Kristen crept menacingly up next to her sister and began taunting in a sing-songy voice: ”What time is it Sara? Is it tickle time? I think it’s tickle time! Are you gonna be ticklish? Are we gonna make you laugh?”

Sara pouted adorably, whimpering and squirming, but still managed to look defiant. “You’re next!” she shot back petulantly at her sister.

Lisa commenced the tickling countdown as Sara squeezed her eyes shut, and three seconds later we all learned for certain that her signature panicky laugh hadn’t changed in 35 years. “EEEEEE!!! EEEEEEE!!! EEEEEEE!!!” rang through the game room from somewhere beneath Tracy, Anne, Nancy, and Kristen's tickling fingers, making me worry a bit about the glasses by the bar the next room over. But while she fought the restraints like a (very cute and friendly) tiger, and her face turned from pink to bright red, Sara bravely held back the safeword.

With four ticklers, no spot on poor Sara was spared. Kristen was especially cruel, working over her sister’s ribs and hips as the others tickled her feet and knees. Sara seemed equally ticklish everywhere, and as her EEEs dissolved into hard high-pitched laughter, her blush just kept deepening. “How long?!” she finally managed, to which Lisa replied, “Almost four minutes!”

Sara held out another thirty seconds before safewording, making her the first to hit the four minute mark and earning her $400 in gift certificates. She was utterly and completely spent, but had enough presence of mind to catch Kristen’s eye as we uncuffed her and gasp, “Beat that!”

We finally poured Sara onto the floor to make room for her sister. Kristen eased herself onto the cot warily, and I positioned her wrists in the open cuffs as her teammates moved away. As I locked Kristen’s wrist cuffs and positioned the chest strap, Kristen’s pale skin, like her sister's, began to flush a soft pink. She was wearing a low-cut blouse, and I could see the blush covered even her chest.

Sara recovered quickly and began to help by locking up her sister’s ankles, and then playfully removing her socks. “Ooh, who’s got bright pink toes?” she exclaimed, and she was right…it looked like Kristen was blushing all over.

Kristen was trying to act tough as we tightened her straps, but her eyes were wide and darting around to take in the ticklers gathering around her, and her skin tone was growing an ever-darker pinkish hue. She struck me as the PTA mom who was usually organizing others and in charge of things, so the idea of being restrained at someone else’s mercy, particularly Sara’s, was probably a little discomfiting to her. You could see reality sinking in as even her breathing became shallow. I doubt that she’d ever been tied down before, and I could see her flexing a bit incredulously against the straps and cuffs.

Maybe the best part about tying up vanillas is that look they sometimes get when they realize for the first time that they can’t move, and people are about to tickle them. 🙂

As a side note, in my pseudo-professional opinion, Kristen was getting turned on. As I snugged up her restraints, I could actually see her exposed skin flushing darker, and she seemed to radiate warmth like the dying embers of a fire. Her expression was telling too. She was worried, but maybe enjoying the attention and helplessness a little. Her worry just barely covered a touch of wanton anticipation that she couldn't hide, coming through in her eyes and the set of her mouth as well as her now ruddy, glowing skin and rapid, shallow breathing.

I checked her left hand and sure enough, she was married. It would be hard to imagine Kristen not married, with three kids, in a shiny clean house with a white picket fence and a massive SUV in the driveway. I wondered if her husband would be in for any surprises when Kristen got home from M’s.

Once her sister was fully helpless, Sara stood and walked around her like a cat who’d just found a wounded bird. “Oooohhh,” she said, actually bouncing with excitement, “this is gonna be great!”

“Sweet Jesus…” breathed Kristen.

Lisa, now our sole timer, called out the escape countdown: “Okay, ready? Three, two, one, go!”

As eager as Sara was to torture her, Kristen’s escape attempt was fueled by some desperation. But like her sister, all she could do was thrash and twist in the cuffs. The minute passed quickly as Carol, Ellen, and M settled into their tickler positions along with Sara, who returned to sit by her sister’s feet, beaming with joy.

“I was nice to you…” Kristen said to Sara a bit despairingly (and untruthfully) as Lisa reset her stopwatch.

Sara leaned in ominously while her teammates looked on. “Were you really?” she asked. "All those years?" And she began playfully stroking Kristen’s toes.

“Hey! No! Stop!” Kristen’s voice was high as she flinched her feet away and pulled at the straps. “She didn’t count down yet!”

Sara cocked her head. “Whatever was I thinking," she said. "Lisa?”

Kristen closed her eyes, tensed her muscles, and made a “mmmmmmm…” noise, rising in pitch, as Lisa began the tickle countdown.

“Okay…three, two, one, tickle!”

Instead of diving in, the other ladies instinctively paused and looked at Sara, who immediately began tickling Kristen’s feet. Kristen bit her lips and strained forward, eyes wide, until her teeth lost purchase and a "PPPPPP!!!" sound escaped through her lips. It exploded into "AAHAHAHA!!!" as her sister tickled harder, followed by upwardly-spiraling screams of "No! Stop! SARA!!!". Kristen was losing it fast.

"Get her!" Sara cried, and her team finally dug into Kristen’s ribs, hips, and knees. Kristen broke instantly and howled with laughter, thrashing wildly, maybe as much from surprise as ticklishness. The look on her bright red face was one of complete astonishment.

Sara laughed with delight as her sister flailed and struggled, and began shouting directions over Kristen’s cries and screams. I heard "Under her arms!" and "Get her knees!", and the ladies would shift targets as directed. Kristen occasionally regained her composure, but would always crumble again into hard laughter under her sister's unpredictable tactics.

Finally, Kristen reached her limit and screamed "BUTTERFLY!!!", ending the torture. According to Lisa, she had lasted 2 minutes and 53 seconds, short of Carol's time by two seconds, thus putting herself in line as the Round 2 ticklee. Carol and Sara actually hugged in celebration as the others clapped and cheered. I quietly wondered what 10 minutes of slowly intensifying foot tickle torture might do to the horny panting mess currently strapped to my cot while she was helplessly trapped in the incredibly restrictive bondage of the tickle box.

I was also rapidly concluding that about three to four minutes was the standard range of time a tied up 50-something vanilla woman can endure tickle torture from her friends. Honestly, though, aside from the sisters, none of the ticklers were being overly sadistic, despite the competition. It was a friendly group, more into teasing than suffering. They were in it for the laughs.

The hogtie round standings now had Tracy, Anne, and Nancy’s team (plus Kristen) ahead 2-1 over Ellen, Carol, and M (plus Sara). And Sara had a good chance to watch me get more decades-awaited revenge on her big sister in Round 2. Maybe I'd let her help...

But first, it was finally time for the Clash of the Titans.

Coming next...
PART IX: HOGTIE ROUND, TURN 4 - M vs NANCY

 

[quinn65]

Thanks again for the comments! The M vs Nancy round is proving a bit tougher to write, and there's another surprise coming, but I'll get it all out here ASAP.

-Q.

 

[Doryon]

If this doesn't get some kind of an award for best true story of the decade, there's something wrong here!

 

[Simplytickles]

Wow! This is beyond spectacular!! Absolutely loving it so far.

 

[quinn65]

Thank you both!

I'm sitting here writing this morning with TMF on one screen and the M vs Nancy work-in-process installment on the other.

It's the toughest bit so far, really making me wish I'd taken some writing courses over the years. Hats off to all the authors out there; trying to get this right is a heavy lift!

Hoping it'll be out today...then maybe four or five more sections to go.

-Q.

 

[quinn65]

Part IX: Hogtie Round, Turn 4 - M vs Nancy

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M vs Nancy lookalike headshots and foot-type pics

I had really been looking forward to this pairing, and I wasn’t the only one.

Going into turn four, M looked downright eager as she flounced barefoot over to the mattress where her ticklers Tracey, Anne, and Kristen waited. Knowing M as well as I do, I felt fairly certain that she had some kind of plan cooking. As Nancy walked past M toward her soon-to-be tormentors Ellen, Carol, and Sara, M – who is adorably a bit of a movie quote nerd – caught her eye and said in her best Ivan Drago voice, “I must break you.” Nancy smiled, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “Bring it,” she replied.

M is a veteran rope bunny and loves to be hogtied – which in essence is what landed us here in the first place – so I tied her first. You’ve seen M’s feet if you’ve followed LOL – they’re soft and perfect, about a size 7. She had gotten her pedicure and light pink nails earlier in the week before her friends arrived. Once I had bound M and tightened up her ropes, she just wriggled in place, happily settling in.

When I turned to Nancy, she had been sitting on the edge of her mattress chatting with Ellen and Carol, and was regarding me with both a headshake and a narrow-eyed stare. The headshake said “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” The stare was all defiance. I could tell I had my hands full.

Nancy and I had sparred gently that morning discussing bondage backstories, and it had become clear since then that she was an alpha, even among this high-powered group. She considered herself their protector, and fit easily and naturally into the role of “big sister” for whoever needed one. I could see it in how she carried herself, and in how the other women subtly deferred to her.

Part of my regular professional job involves reading groups of people and picking out which ones among them have real power and authority. I’ve been doing it for thirty years, and if I wasn’t good at it, I’d have found something else long ago.

So trust me when I tell you that Nancy stood out as a dominant in this group like there was a neon sign flashing above her.

All of the women would eye-check Nancy when there was a decision to be made, and everyone grew quiet when she spoke. She wasn’t dour, but she didn’t joke or laugh much. When she did relax, the group relaxed with her, and if she grew tense or hesitant, everyone throttled back.

However, these women were all leaders in some capacity, accustomed to being in charge and getting their way. I’m sure they thought of each other as peers, and friends, and I doubt they consciously realized Nancy’s role in their hierarchy. They’d likely deny it if anyone pointed it out. But as a newcomer and outside observer, it was easy for me to see.

Remember earlier, when I was taking volunteers for the contest, and no one had objected when Greta or Cheryl stepped out? It was only when Nancy declined that a few of them pushed back.

I’m no psychiatrist, but I think I know why, and I’d bet a year’s salary on it: subconsciously, these women knew they deferred to Nancy, and some of them held that knowledge with a subtle touch of resentment. So the idea of seeing her made powerless – tied helpless, submissive, and of all things tickled – was at some level highly appealing to them.

I don’t mean to imply they were behaving in an underhanded or vindictive way; it’s just human nature. There’s a reason why so many bondage and submission fantasies involve people of authority: bosses, teachers, parents, babysitters, law enforcement officers, and so on. We all like to see the powerful made defenseless and then teased, tortured, or aroused beyond self-control. It exposes their vulnerabilities and hidden selves, and makes them more human.

And I think that’s where Ellen came in. She didn’t seem like someone who would hold resentment, subconsciously or otherwise. Ellen was empathic, authentic, and kind. She simply wanted Nancy to relax, drop any pretensions of leadership, and cut loose…and I suspect she thought a good tickle might help.

For Nancy’s part, I’m sure she intuitively grasped her social position here, and likely saw me as both a threat and a rival. This didn’t manifest in a negative way; I instinctively liked and respected her, and I believe she felt the same toward me. It’s just that there was some subtle “alpha posturing” in the air between us.

Hence the loaded look she was giving me. Here I was, preparing to hogtie her. A hogtie is more than a tremendously effective way to bind someone; it’s also quite humbling for the person being restrained. That alone would be humiliating for a dominant, but of course the whole idea this evening, once she was fully helpless, was almost unthinkable for an alpha in real life: to be publicly tickled.

As many in the BDSM community know, tickling is often a hard limit for even the most hardcore masochists. I suspect that’s because like Nancy, many masochists see themselves as tough and resilient, and can prove it to themselves and others by enduring high levels of pain.

But tickling is something else. With the lightest touch, it can rob a person of both their self-control and their dignity. It might be admirable for a person to endure intense pain before they break, but succumbing to tickling only looks weak. Tickle torture is designed to embarrass, which can be fun among friends or for someone who’s submissive. But it’s a tough pill for any authority figure to swallow, much less a top-tier apex predator like Nancy in front of her closest friends.

Maybe Ellen was onto something. Maybe if Nancy did this and came down a notch, she could relax and more easily become “one of the girls.” And maybe at some level, Nancy knew it too. After all, something kept her from turning down the contest flat and led her to be sitting on the mattress right now, waiting to be tied up.

Lots of maybes. Here’s one more: if any of you reading this are psychologists or psychiatrists, or really insightful, maybe you can shed some light on this in the comments. The whole thing intrigues the shit out of me.

I’m not certain all this is what Nancy was thinking as she looked at me, but it’s certainly what I was thinking, and it must have shown on my face. As I got closer, I could see her mentally dig in and prepare for the inevitable, with an added hint of – I’m almost positive – anticipation. After all, she’d had that “interesting boyfriend”…

When I finally reached her, Nancy didn’t lay down; she just kept looking at me, chin up. I gently touched her shoulders and turned her, easing her onto her belly in the middle of the mattress. She tucked her arms tightly alongside her chest as she settled.

Yeah, it looked like I’d be working for this one. Under the watchful eye of Ellen and the others, Nancy would go along with the game, but she wouldn’t be compliant. And while she wasn't a jock like Carol or a fitness buff like Ellen, she was bigger framed and toned in a professionally attractive way. I suspect she was something of a gym rat. And I can tell you now that she’s strong, because we were about to have a bit of a tussle.

She clenched her arms when I tried to pull them away from her sides. To get some leverage, I decided to take a risk and straddle her, so I swung one leg over her hips and pinned her from behind. This got a few “Ooh!”s from those watching, and it made Nancy whip around to look at me, but the look was touched by a smile, so it was game on.

I threw a single column tie around her right wrist – not much she could do about that – and threaded the running end though the bottom of her chest harness before levering her arm around behind her. I was able to keep the rope’s tension with one hand as I muscled her wrist into place with the other, and then tie it off to the harness once it was in place at the small of her back. She thrashed under me as we wrestled, but once her wrist was tied it was held firm.

I did the same with her left arm. She fought a bit harder this time but was at more of a disadvantage, so I had her left wrist tied in fairly short order. Someone watching said, “Ride ‘em, cowboy!” and everyone laughed. I threw a few extra loops around both of her wrists to prevent escape since she seemed determined to struggle.

Her legs had been kicking before, but as she felt me lift and pivot around toward her socked feet, she locked them straight. That was perfect for a double column tie on her ankles, so I scooted down and sat on the backs of her knees while I threaded one in place. I could feel her upper body struggling as I did so, but I knew her wrists weren’t going anywhere.

I passed the running end of her finished ankle tie through the chest harness above her wrists, and pulled. She could either be strung like a bow or bend her knees, and finally she chose the latter. I quickly levered her heels down against her butt, threw several loops between her ankles and the harness, and noosed everything tight. Voila, she was hogtied and helpless.

Just to be clear: this hadn’t been an all-out wrestling match. Nancy was probably giving it a 50% effort. She knew she would end up tied, and I suspect she wanted to make a show of resisting. No complaints; it was fun for me, and if their whoops and shouts of encouragement were any indication, the audience enjoyed it as well.

Once Nancy was tied, I rolled aside and propped up on my elbow next to her, noticing that she had become a bit flushed and disheveled during our little scuffle. She actually looked pretty great.

Checking over the finished tie, my gaze landed on the dark no-show socks she still wore. I suppose I could have left them on for her escape attempt, but some instinct told me to remove them before I stepped away. So I pulled myself up next to her and grabbed one at the heel. Her head whipped around at this, and she fixed me with another hard look.

Having topped dominant women before, once they were tied, I’d always find small ways to demonstrate their helplessness as I worked them toward submission. In this case, I was about to expose Nancy’s bare feet to be tickled, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was a small thing, but she sensed it intuitively as the beginning of a process.

So when she gave me the stare, I returned it with a polite nod. Then, as I peeled back the sock, I dragged my finger across her sole. This caused two things to happen. First, her foot flinched and pinwheeled away from my hand. Second, her expression – around the eyes and in the set of her mouth – changed subtly but significantly. Imagine the expression of a stern, attractive woman standing neck-deep in the ocean who has just seen a shark fin break the water nearby. Nancy's eyes flared almost imperceptibly, and the corners of her mouth tightened in surprise.

I saw the change, and she saw me notice. My own expression must have grown slightly more ardent. Hers became resigned but still imperious before she turned away; a rival queen about to be flogged in the town square. Ellen dropped down across from me in the next instant and whisked off Nancy’s other sock.

Even with several inches less in body height, Nancy’s feet were nearly as large as Carol’s. They were also narrow, but where Carol’s feet looked slender, Nancy’s were more substantial. She had been among the group getting pedicures that afternoon, and I noticed her nails were fire engine red.

Writing this, as I struggled to find a foot lookalike for Nancy, I decided to look up pics from Kate Winslet, thinking why not? Sure enough, the first one I saw was perfect. That picture of Kate in heels that I added beside Nancy’s headshot for this section could easily be Nancy from the knees down. I found another sole shot, added below, of a barefoot Kate going down a big slide with Hugh Jackman at a movie premiere, and when I saw it, I thought yep. Nancy’s feet are quite similar to Kate’s.


Finally, as I prepared to step away, Nancy twisted in the ropes and turned to me again, still defiant. “You suck,” she said.

“You’re fun,” I replied. Then Ellen leaned in and added, “And I really want to see you laugh.”

It was time for the escape countdown, and Lisa was still running the clock. At “go!” both M and Nancy held surprisingly still. M simply closed her eyes and breathed deeply, as if oxygenating her blood. Nancy made a long, hard pull against the ropes with her arms, and then another with her legs, rolling her shoulders back in the harness with the effort. Then she rotated her wrists and ankles, spinning her large feet in circles over her derriere.

Nancy gave me another haughty look. “I mean, you really suck,” she clarified.

“Brace yourself,” I warned Nancy’s ticklers as Lisa counted off the final seconds. Nancy finally bucked impotently a few times in the ropes and then shook her head and tucked her chin.

Next it was time for the tickle countdown. Lisa, eyes sparkling, seemed to really enjoy her new speaking role as she called it out: “Okay, ready? Three, two, one…tickle!”

I’d seen M tickled many times, so my attention was fixed on her opponent. Ellen had leaned in from the side and wrapped Nancy’s ankles in the crook of her elbow as Lisa counted, but then she turned at the last instant to listen to something Greta was saying. At “tickle!” Ellen remained distracted as both Carol and Sara attacked Nancy’s ribs, causing her to jump, and yelp, and twist side to side like a landed shark.

But the biggest shock for me was the immediate stream of hilarious laughter suddenly pouring out of M! I was a damn good tickler, but on my best day I knew I couldn’t break her that fast. Still, there was no mistaking M’s unique, high-pitched laugh as it rolled out of her at full force. My gaze whipped her way to find Tracy, Anne and Kristen having the time of their lives torturing the ribs and feet of their normally poised friend, who was now twisting and shrieking deliriously under their fingers.

My brain was still grappling with M’s reaction when the first yell came from Nancy. Apparently Ellen had finally started tickling her feet. She might as well have been using a cattle prod. An “OH!! OOOH!!! OOOOHH!!!” exploded from Nancy as she arched and thrashed in the ropes, fingers splayed wide on her bound hands. It wasn’t exactly a scream or a laugh, but more a sound of pure astonishment.

Ellen said “Yessss!!!” and then swung around ninja-like to straddle Nancy’s shins. This freed both her hands to tickle. “Carol! Sara! Hold her down!” Ellen shouted as she clamped her knees around Nancy’s legs.

Nancy was frantic. “Ellie, wait!” she shouted as Carol and Sara stopped digging at her sides and leaned across her back. “Ellie? Ellen, DON’T!!! Goddamnit, get off my feet!! ELLIE!!!” She tried to buck Ellen away as her voice spun higher and her feet flailed wildly, but of course the ropes held fast.

Ellen leaned forward and poised her fingernails over Nancy’s soles. “This is exactly what you need,” she said, and started to tickle Nancy’s feet again…but this time, ever so softly.

Nancy gasped and her hands balled into fists. Her muscles clenched tight and she growled, "No, no, no, no, NO, NO!" as her feet tried to dance away from the tickles. But Ellen needed only to lean in a bit to hold them still, and she could keep one set of maddening nails stroking each of Nancy’s soles, no matter what the attorney did. Ellen’s smile widened as she watched her friend fight for control.

Ellen was a great natural tickler. She worked Nancy right to the edge of laughing, and seemed determined to gently coax her over. “Come on, Nance, let it out,” she urged as Nancy clamped her jaw and struggled. “You can’t hold it in forever.” Her nails moved faster as she tickled a little harder.

That shook something loose in Nancy. Her voice broke with a “Bah-HA!!!”, and the laughter finally started flowing.

As I’d observed before, Nancy wasn’t a hard laugher by nature. Even when everyone was joking around, it’s not that she was humorless, but she was more likely to smile and chuckle than really open up and howl.

All that changed now. As Ellen whooped with delight, Nancy’s laughter began flowing from deep within her as she strained and fought the ropes. And what a great laugh it was – high-pitched but rich and full, pouring out now in an uncontrolled torrent. It was a strong, straightforward laugh without shrieks or screams, climbing in intensity the harder Ellen worked her soles.

M was also laughing wildly, but hearing Nancy, she managed to call out “Get her!” from the other mattress between gasping breaths.

Ellen now had Nancy fully under her control. She could shift her tickle spot or intensity and dial in the laughter level she wanted, or keep Nancy from speaking if she started to beg. She looked at me as she realized this and said, "This is so much fun!!!”

Then she looked at Lisa. “What’s the time?”

“Two minutes twenty seconds!” Lisa replied.

At this, Ellen’s eyebrows went up and she dug into Nancy’s soles mercilessly, spinning her up to a scream that rolled into a triplet of hysterical laughs and began repeating in frenzied bursts: “WAAA-HAHAHA! WAAA-HAHAHA! WAAA-HAHAHA!” Nancy had lost it. Her thrashing actually stopped as the laughs stole her energy, and her face turned bright red.

It broke her almost immediately.

“WAAA-HAHAHA BUTTERFLY!!!”

M safeworded next but kept laughing when her tickles stopped, at least partly in celebration as applause and cheers sounded through the room. Everyone was looking around wide-eyed as Nancy rolled onto her side, shaking her head in wonder, aftershock smiles rolling across her face. “You guys all suck!” she declared to more laughs and applause. Ellen was rubbing Nancy’s feet and giving her congratulatory pats on the back.

“What was the time?” M asked.

Lisa double checked her phone. “Two minutes, forty two seconds.”

“Yessss!” Ellen pumped her fist like she’s just sunk a three-pointer and slapped hands with Carol and Sara. It looked like Nancy would be heading to the tickle box.

Nancy’s and M’s times earned them $200 each in gift certificates, and another hogtie round point went to…oh fuck. The hogtie round was now tied 2-2 for the gift bag prize. We’d need a tiebreaker.

Nancy caught her breath as I untied her. “You ok?” I asked. She blew out a deep breath and said, “I’ll live.”

“That was…something,” I remarked, at a bit of a loss. She smiled and rubbed her wrists. Having survived, she seemed to be enjoying the excited reactions of her friends. Or maybe she was just too exhausted to punch me.

It’s amazing how much happy noise a dozen people can make; it felt like I was at a concert. Everyone was talking at once, most of them remarking on Nancy’s performance. As she rose and joined her friends, she said she’d had no idea how ticklish she was, but on the upside she had probably burned off all the night’s alcohol consumption.

As I untied M, I asked her about the instant laughter. “I talked to Ellen and the others about it, and we really wanted to see Nancy in that box,” she explained. “So we decided I’d just laugh and ride it out instead of fighting it, because I wasn’t sure I could resist rib tickling anyway. And then if Nancy was ticklish, they’d be sure she safeworded the soonest.”

“It worked!” I observed.

“My abs are gonna be sore tomorrow, but yep, it sure did!” she agreed.

With Ellen, M, and the others plotting against her, poor Nancy had never stood a chance. And after what we’d just seen, I was pretty happy about getting her into the tickle box. The thought of Nancy immobilized in there with her toes tied was compelling, to say the least.

But the hogtie round’s score was now 2-2, and first we had to figure out a tiebreaker.

Coming next...
PART X: HOGTIE ROUND TIEBREAKER

 

[bftlvr]

I love this scenario, great descriptions, and the pictures are wonderful as well. The dynamic of the session is fantastic, the ladies are really into it . Nicely done oh mighty Quinn, I look forward to the rest of the story,

 

[WriterOfSin]

Loving the story, sounds like you all had a lot of fun!

 

[Haptic513]

@Quinn65 - Wonderful story and thanks for writing. I can’t compliment you enough on your descriptive portrayal of what happened. I have one thing to say - see a doctor. You may have died and gone to Heaven, Valhalla, or whatever you believe.

 

[quinn65]

Thanks again! It was amazingly fun, and yeah I can definitely say now that I've been to tickle fetish heaven.

Here comes the tiebreaker...then just a few more sections to go.

-Q.

 

[quinn65]

Part X: Hogtie Round Tiebreaker

“So…now what?” Anne was sitting next to Greta on one of the audience couches, looking at something on Greta’s phone.

“We need a tiebreaker,” I replied. “But what are you two doing?”

Greta had been keeping track of winnings through the hogtie round and shared her results. Sara had won $400; Ellen, Tracy, Carol, Anne, and Kristen $300, and M and Nancy $200 for a total haul of $2,300 in Passion Party gift certificates.

Lisa had been chatting with a group behind Greta but peeled away and strolled over as she heard the numbers tallied. From her wide eyes and smile, it looked like she was pretty pleased with tonight’s sales.

“So how does a tiebreaker work?” Anne continued.

With the gift bags waiting enticingly along the wall, and the hogtie round score tied 2-2, this was a question on everyone’s mind. Fortunately, with so much time to prepare, I had considered the possibility of a tie and had something already in mind.

I cleared my ropes from one of the benches and slid it in front of a team couch as the ladies gathered around. “Each team needs to pick one person from the opposing team who won their hogtie turn,” I explained. “The two people selected will do a ‘hold your water’ tickle challenge for the win.”

“Sounds like someone’s going to pee,” said Greta to some laughs.

“I hope not,” I answered. “What we’ll do is give each person a shot glass full of water.” As I spoke, I walked back toward the game table and pulled out my bag. From among the goodies there I pulled out a craft store package of stiff, black feathers and a pack of large post-its.

Returning to the group, I continued. “Each contestant will put their feet up on this bench, drink the shot, and hold the water in their mouth. Then the opposing team will tickle them with these." I dropped the pack of feathers on the bench.

“Tickle their feet only with the soft ends of the feathers. We'll go for two minutes, and if there’s no clear winner, then the ticklers can switch to using the quill ends. After four minutes, if we make it that far, whoever spits the most water back into the shot glass wins.”

I peeled two post-its off the pack and placed one at each end of the bench like little sticky placemats. “Heels need to stay on these post-its or it’s an automatic loss. Sound good?”

“Sounds awful,” replied Tracy, followed by some chuckles. The teams began to huddle and plan.

“I’ll go fill the shot glasses while you all decide who's playing,” I offered.

When I returned from the bar with the water, M and Tracy were sitting on the couch a short distance apart, feet in place on the bench. Anne, Nancy, and Kristen were passing around feathers by M’s feet, and Ellen, Sara, and Carol already had theirs on Tracy’s end.

vs.
M vs Tracy tiebreaker lookalike headshots and foot-type pics

I had pretty much expected the teams to pick M and Tracy, all things considered. And I suspected that M’s “no resistance” strategy from her earlier turn was about to pay off again. I knew that as ticklish as her feet were, M had a huge amount of self control, and it was difficult to get her laughing. But her friends didn’t know that; they thought she was an easy mark. Tracy had lost control during her hogtie the second they touched her feet, so I figured she was in trouble. Unlike M, Tracy’s eyes were large and a little haunted as she anticipated what was coming.

Lisa grabbed the barstool I’d used for my intro, and perched there waiting to call out times. The ticklers were all poised, ready, and grinning with feathers in hand.

I handed M and Tracy the shot glasses and they both tipped them back, pooching out their cheeks. They centered their heels on the post-its, and both closed their eyes. Then I stepped back and touched Lisa’s arm, and she started the countdown: “Okay, ready? Three, two, one…tickle!”

As I expected, when the tickles started, M went into the zone. She smoothed out her breathing and tried to relax her face, although you could see a grin already tugging at her pursed lips as the feathers began squirreling around her toes and across her soles.

Things looked bad for Tracy. As soon as she felt the feathers, her eyes flew open and her feet and toes began flexing and wiggling wildly. She was breathing fast through her nose and making frantic “MMM!! MMM!! MMM!!” screamy noises, trying to keep her mouth shut. A couple drips of water were already dribbling down her chin.

Aside from a few giggles and ooohs of their own, the ticklers and the crowd watching had gone unnaturally quiet, much different from the ruckus of the hogtie round. Everyone was concentrating, and it was mostly only Tracy’s muffled screams that broke the silence.

But in the relative quiet, I could hear something else. Moans and leathery squeaks began emanating from the bean bag chair, which was in my line of sight past M's and Tracy’s squirming feet. As I glanced up, I saw Cheryl’s arms and legs begin to stir weakly in the chair’s squishy depths. It seemed the sudden silence had alerted her somehow, and she was trying to sit up.

M and Tracy struggled on, still in the “soft feather” portion of the tiebreaker’s first two minutes. I was pretty sure Tracy would be done for as soon as the quills came into play, if she even lasted that long. As it stood, you’d think from the muffled cries, the desperate look on her face, and her frantically clenching feet that she was suffering the most diabolical torture ever imagined. M was crumbling a little too as her ticklers seemed to find extra sensitive nerves between her now merrily wiggling toes, but aside from some audible whining and head shaking, she was holding it together much better than her opponent.

I leaned in and looked over Lisa’s shoulder…less than 20 seconds until the 2 minute mark when the ticklers could flip the feathers.

And that would have surely been the end for Tracy, if what happened next hadn’t happened.

By now Cheryl was rocking around in the chair, trying to find a balance point where she could push herself up. But the bean bag basically rendered her weightless, and her flailing wasn’t helping, so finally she just tensed all her muscles to attempt a situp.

And released the loudest, longest fart I have ever heard issue from the body of a human being.

The room dropped dead quiet for an astonished half second before exploding into what may be the longest-ever sustained bout of uncontrollable howling laughter ever experienced by any group of people in the history of the world.

With a “BAH!” M guffawed and spit a shower of warm water over her ticklers, causing them to dive backwards for cover as they descended into hysterics. Tracy, to her credit, managed to laugh into her shot glass, catching maybe a quarter ounce of water to win the contest before she fell into gasping fits of coughing.

Lisa screamed with laughter and doubled over, actually falling forward off the stool in front of me. I was too busy sinking to my knees and wheezing to catch her, but she looked ok as she hit the ground and rolled around on the floor, kicking her feet and hooting.

Thank God we had mattresses around, as most people had something to collapse onto when their knees gave out. We were like a room full of third graders, hopelessly out of our minds. Every time the laughter would start to die down, someone would make a helpless little mewling noise, and we’d start all over again. Near the end, when we’d finally started to recover, Cheryl managed to scream, “You’re gonna have to burn that beanbag!” and the whole cycle started again.

Cheryl was laughing as hard as anyone, which got me worried about her puking, but she made it through ok. Eventually, some friends helped fish her out of the beanbag and got her wobbling to her feet for exhausted hugs.

Honestly I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. I’m laughing again now, just writing about it. For the rest of the evening, every so often you’d hear a "mmmMMmmMMmm" as someone remembered The Fart and tried to stay quiet, and we’d all start losing it again. But at least Tracy’s team took the win, and the gift bags, and we could finally move on to Round 2.

Coming next...
PART XI: ROUND 2 - NANCY vs HER WORST NIGHTMARE

 

[C4urself85]

Had a strong feeling Nancy was making her way into the box and she didn't disappoint. Definitely looking forward to this next chapter.

Also, you got to take this show on the road, man. Make it into a business. I got 3 words for you, Bachelorette Tickle Parties. Eh, probably just wishful thinking but could make for a good fictional story.

 

[quinn65]

Part XI: Round 2 - Nancy vs Her Worst Nightmare

vs.
Lookalike headshot and foot pic for Nancy; actual animated tickle box pic

After the tiebreaker, the chatter, laughter, and teasing in the room only grew. Everyone was a little buzzed from our laughing jag. Wine and cocktail glasses were refilled as everyone told stories and joked together, miming tied positions and recalling the best tickled reactions. Lisa was with Greta, looking at her phone. Nancy sat on the tiebreaker bench in an animated discussion with Anne, as Carol listened and nodded from the couch.

I found Ellen and Tracy talking to M and Laura over by the tickle box when I went back to retrieve it. As I approached, M was saying, “...for almost an hour. It was comfortable but you can’t move at all.” When M says ‘all,’ it sounds like ‘awl.’

“Telling about your tickle shoot?” I asked, and M nodded.

“How did you even come up with this thing?” asked Tracy, sliding the wrist stocks up and down in their slot.

“Oh that goes way back,” I explained. “Even before the video store. I built it for Laura shortly after we got our first house.”

“I think you built it for you to use on me,” Laura teased.

“Ok, well yeah,” I laughed. “But it also came in handy when we started making clips with our friends. It’s quick to set up and really does the job.”

“Poor Nancy,” Tracy observed. “She’s going to go crazy in this thing. Ten minutes?!”

“It’ll be good for her!” said Ellen. “I mean come on, in 20 years have you ever heard her laugh so hard?”

M was smiling and shaking her head.

“It is fun,” Tracy agreed. “This whole tickle contest idea is a blast! I’m surprised no one’s made it into some kind of kinky party game.”

“Our friends used to say the same thing at the video shoots,” said Laura. “It’s like once you get past the initial craziness and try it, it’s so much fun to tickle people!”

“Nancy might not agree,” teased Tracy.

“Well, the goal so far has been to make people safeword as fast as possible,” I explained. “This time, for Nancy, I’ll be trying to draw it out so she has a fair shot at lasting the whole 10 minutes.” I’d finally organized all the materials into the box. “This time it’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Tracy arched an eyebrow. “Right,” she breathed. “That’s what men always say.”

As the ladies laughed, I returned with the box to find Nancy still on the bench with Anne and Carol nearby. Setting it down next to the discarded feathers, I began to unpack the lotion, string, tools, and clamps. Ellen had followed me over.

Nancy turned around to watch. “So I’m supposed to get into that thing?” she asked rhetorically as I set up.

“That’s the plan.” I stood to make a formal introduction. “Nancy, meet the tickle box; tickle box, this is Nancy. And man is she ticklish.” Some of the other ladies were wandering over.

“You’re going to kill me,” Nancy said. “Ten minutes? Seriously?”

“It won’t be like before,” I explained, getting the clamps in place to fasten the box to the bench. “This will start with just feathers. Then it ramps up slowly as we go.”

“Just feathers,” she repeated. “On my feet.” She shuddered. “M says you can’t move in this thing.”

“No, you really can’t.”

“And that bar at the end is to tie my toes.”

“Yep.”

“Jesus wept.” She gave the box a good once-over, shaking her head. “I have an idea,” she finally said, raising her voice. “How about I say ‘butterfly’ right now and just Venmo everyone for the gift certificates?”

This got a round of laughs from the crowd, sprinkled with “No ways!” and “Nuh-uhs.”

“I’ve been in that thing for almost an hour before,” M said. “You can do it for ten minutes.”

Nancy looked at her. “Girl, you are made of tougher stuff than me. Did you see me earlier? That was torture! I won’t last ten minutes getting my feet tickled, no way.”

“He said he’ll go slow,” Ellen encouraged. “And anyway, what kind of attitude is that?” She leveled a mock glare at Nancy. “I expect to see every dime of my prize money when this is over. Besides, you’ve been tickled less than any of us who’ve played so far.”

“That’s because I can’t stand it!”

“Mind over matter, honey,” Ellen assured her. “It’s just laughing! Tell you what, I’ll sit right here with you when it happens.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Nancy stood and gave me a look. Everything was ready. “We might as well get this over with.”

I removed the tops of the leg, wrist, and ankle stocks and gestured for Nancy to sit on the couch. She crawled in behind the box and sat with her knees hugged to her chest. I lined things up and held out my hand to guide her legs in.

Nancy has a larger frame than Laura, who had served as a human template for the box's design, so I was a little worried about her fit. But I needn’t have. Nancy extended her legs to my outstretched hand and I lowered them into the box. They shooshed nicely into place between the box’s sides, a snug but perfect fit, her ankles resting in the lower half of the stocks under the toe bar. Her large bare feet dangled into the empty space past the box's far end, red toenails winking back at me.

Not gonna lie, those nails looked pretty amazing.

Next, I slid a bracket-shaped wooden brace into place just above Nancy’s knees, locking down her legs. Milled into the top of this piece are two shallow divots that act as the lower half of the box’s wrist stocks. With a sigh, Nancy put her wrists in the divots, palms down, and looked at me as if to say “get on with it.”

I slid the top of the wrist stocks over her hands and locked it in place with pins through the sides of the device. It was now impossible for Nancy to either bend her legs or pull her trapped wrists away. She rocked a little and twisted her hands, giving the box a quick test.

"Good Lord," she exclaimed quietly to herself as her predicament set in. The ladies were looking on now with rapt attention, smiling and talking low among themselves.

Nancy’s feet kicked gently in space as I slipped into place the top section of the ankle stocks and inserted the final set of locking pins to secure it. This was a little redundant, as there was no way for Nancy to lift her legs, but the ankle stocks helped finish the look. Finally, I clamped the box securely to the edges of the bench.

Nancy was now sitting comfortably on the couch, legs extended straight out and locked into the box in front of her, unable to move from hips to ankles, with her wrists fixed in place above her knees. The tickle box is a whole new level of restraint from a hogtie, and after twisting and pulling a bit, Nancy looked at me hopelessly.

Ellen sat down cross-legged beside her on the couch and put a hand on her shoulder.

"One step to go," I told her as I moved around to sit on the mattress, facing her soles. "Time to tie your toes." An “Oh my God” came from somewhere in the crowd. Probably Tracy.

"Are you sure that’s completely necessary?" Nancy asked as her feet went en pointe, straining as far from the toe tie bar as possible, which was also conveniently toward me.

I took this as an invitation to slip a long piece of soft string around her clenched big toes. "It actually makes things easier on you," I explained as I continued to wrap her toes together.

"It seems a bit over the top," she complained, squirming. "I can't. Freaking. Move. And you're tickling me already! Stop!"

“Sorry. Remember, though, you get tickled more softly this round so you can last the full time,” I explained. “That’s not possible if your feet can thrash around. I’d have to dig harder.”

“Riiiight, you’re doing me a favor,” she chided. “You are such a bullshitter.”

With Nancy’s big toes well-wrapped, I crossed the string between them and threw the running ends back over the bar, pulling it taut to draw her feet back until her toes pointed straight at the ceiling. When they touched the bar, I secured everything in place with several loops and a knot. Now she really couldn’t move.

“Maybe you’ll thank me later,” I suggested.

Her look went from hopeless to despairing as she tried to flex her feet and found at best she could just barely wiggle her toes. As tightly as the box fit her legs, that was all the movement she had. “Not likely,” she answered.

My tools were laid out neatly to one side of the box, where Nancy could see them: a pile of feathers from the tiebreaker, a small bottle of lotion, a telescoping set of small plastic three-clawed back scratchers, and a couple of electric toothbrushes with the brushes removed, exposing the vibrating tips underneath.

Nancy passed her eyes over the array of tickling devices and then looked out to a middle distance at nothing, taking deep breaths to collect herself. Ellen stopped rubbing her shoulder and reached down to grasp her hand in the stocks. “Remember hun,” she coached. “Mind over matter.”

Nancy turned and looked at her. “Where was your ‘mind over matter,’ Ellen? When they were tickling you, you never stopped laughing!”

“Oh, hm. Well…oops!” Ellen shrugged. “Bad advice then. How about ‘good luck?’”

Nancy’s eyes got big as everyone laughed. Then she looked down to see that I had settled into place and grabbed a couple of feathers. She tried to wiggle but couldn’t. “Oh shit shit shit shit…”

I reviewed the progression. “So it’ll be two and a half minutes with the feathers, then two and a half with fingers, then again with the lotion and claws, and finally with the toothbrush tips. And then everyone walks away with all their loot! Sound good?”

I got a round of nods, yeps, and uh-huhs. Nancy kept saying shit.

“Lisa, are you timing?”

“On it!” Lisa called out happily.

“Ok, give me a countdown!”

Nancy took a breath and squeezed Ellen’s fingers with her trapped hand. She looked me in the eye as Lisa counted.

“Three…two…one…tickle!”

I laid the tips of the feathers at the base of Nancy’s toes on each foot, and slowly drew them downward, tracing big S’s toward her heels. She flinched at the first touch as her eyes flew wide and shot skyward, but she held in her laughter. What I got was “Oh come oooooooonnnn…” in a breathy, warbling tone. Her toes wiggled weakly as the feathers made their way.

From her heels I traced the feathers back up along the outsides of her feet. Now she was bouncing on the couch and whimpering, but of course her legs and feet were held perfectly still. Next to her, Ellen was watching Nancy’s face and flashing the biggest smile. I glanced around to see the same expressions of wide-eyed anticipation everywhere. The ladies were definitely not used to seeing Nancy like this.

Next I drew the feathers across her toes, which caused some frantic struggles and an “Oh GOD!” before I found a new path downward across the insides of her feet along her arches. Nancy’s feet were large and smooth, showing wrinkles only when she clenched her toes. As I hit her arches with the feather tips, her feet started vibrating fractionally side to side in the stocks as her whimpers grew more frantic.

“Thirty seconds gone!” Lisa called out.

The feathers were at her heels again. Having gotten the best reaction from her arches, I returned the feather tips there to dig around some more. It worked like a charm. Nancy’s whimpering began to grow louder as she really started to struggle. Ellen, hand now on the box, looked Nancy up and down, continuing to smile approvingly as her friend fought in the stocks. Sounds of anticipation floated from the crowd.

“One minute!”

“HaHA! Jesus CHRIST this is so Goddamn annoying!!!” Nancy finally gasped in a high voice, chuckling through her words. Her eyes locked on mine again, now with some pleading behind them. “Come ooon…dammit! Stop! STOP IT!!!”

That didn’t work; I just danced the feathers more quickly around the centers and arches of her feet as her toes clenched and unclenched wildly. She closed her eyes and started shaking her head, pulling hard at her wrists. “No no no no NO NO NO!!!”

“A minute thirty!”

And then the laughter started. Not the unbridled WAAAHAHAs from earlier, but an almost soft but growing reflexive chuckle from higher in her belly, laced with plenty of “Oh!”s. I didn’t let up, and like before, her mirth just poured out. She’d take a breath every so often as if to say something, and then just laugh some more. Some of the watchers, delighted, began quietly giggling and laughing along with her. Ellen was nodding like this was just right.

“Two minutes!” shouted Lisa over the din.

Still laughing, Nancy looked at me again and tried to clench her jaw, pressing her lips tightly together over a keening sound from her throat as she fought. She was actually doing a decent job of regaining some composure; it was impressive to watch. “She’s fighting it!” Laura called out, and someone said “Ohhh look at her!”

“Two minutes thirty!”

Unfortunately for Nancy’s heroic effort, I could now legally use my fingers instead of the feathers. I held off for a few seconds though, enjoying Nancy’s struggles and waiting to catch her eye.

And there it was. Right on the edge of control, she looked back at me, giving me a chance to drop her a quick wink as I let the feathers go and started in with my fingertips.

This broke her resistance with a frantic scream followed by, “HEY!!!” I pulled away to let her think about it, and she locked my eyes again, shaking her head no and trying her damnedest to pull her feet away. I can only imagine what my smile looked like as I slowly leaned in.

“Three minutes!”

Her hands stretched out and her eyes grew wide. “No no God please no please please don’t do that again pleeeeease!!!”

Ellen looked on with glee as, of course, I started stroking her soles again. Nancy bounced in the stocks with an “OOHHH!!!” and then shot me one of the three best pleading looks in human history just before I started digging softly across her arches.

At this, Nancy skipped right past belly laughs to WAAA-HAHAHAs as she lost all control. She bounced crazily on her couch cushion, laughing now with pure abandon. But every few seconds, just as I thought she might lose hope, I was careful to give her a brief respite. The idea, after all, was to let her last the round.

“Three thirty!”

The breaks were also fun because they allowed Nancy to yell sentence fragments at me, like “OH YOU SONOFAHAHAHAHA!!!” and “PLEASE YOU GOTTAHAHAHAHA!!! After a while, these little interrupted quips had our gallery of observers laughing almost as hard as she was.

“Four minutes!”

I try to be a good torturer, which means knowing how to work someone through levels of stimulation like they’re riding a roller coaster. As Nancy and I passed four minutes heading toward five, I pretty much had her fully under control. With feet as ticklish as hers, like Ellen before I could use the pressure and location of my strokes to work her from the edge of whining to babbling hysterics to uncontrollable belly laughter and back again at will.

If she had anything to say, I could let her start to say it and then just flip the switch, along the lines of “I AM GONNA KILLHAHAHAHA!!!” With a submissive, this is a headspace they really enjoy, be it tickling or pain or orgasm play that takes them there. But for a dominant person like Nancy, it had to be a feat of pure willpower that kept her going, helpless, as I controlled her by tickling her feet.

“Four thirty!”

My original plan was to keep her on the edge and let her go as long as possible, hopefully the full ten minutes. But that was looking less and less likely as she gradually wore down, now close to panic with even the lightest tickling. I didn’t know what I’d do at five minutes with the lotion and claws, which are at least an order of magnitude more intense than finger tickling for most. That would have to be completely unbearable for her.

And for now, she was being a good sport about it. Nancy was laughing and out of control, but I felt she was cognizant of the fact that this was a game and everyone was entertained. Because of that, she was by all indications still having fun as she went with the flow. I didn’t want to push her past that point into real suffering. You have to understand: this lady’s feet were in their own category of ticklish.

So although it pained me a little, I decided to try and finish Nancy off before we hit five minutes. That seemed the best way out with no unnecessary suffering or hard feelings, and I didn’t want to ruin what had been a near perfect night. Also no one could fault how hard she was fighting not to safeword; even Ellen. So after Lisa called out the 4:30 mark, I really let Nancy have it with more digs to her arches. And it worked.

“WAAA-HAHABUTTERFLY! BUTTERFLY!! BUTTERFLY!!!”

Four minutes and forty three seconds. We’d call it five, and use 50% as the hit on gift certificate values. When I stopped, Nancy was red-faced, disheveled, and panting. She cracked an exhausted smile, though, as a wave of loud cheering and applause broke out among her friends, with many glasses raised in a toast. I immediately freed her toes and opened up the stocks.

“You are not a nice man,” she teased as I helped swing her legs out of the box. “Maybe I should have you killed.”

I was 99% sure she was joking. “Just doing my job, ma’am,” I smiled back. “And believe it or not, I was being as nice as I could.”

She started vigorously rubbing her feet. “Well then I wouldn’t want to see you mean.” Ellen helped her stand up for a victory lap around the room. Nancy found herself in a big cluster of friends, everyone talking at once. Lisa stood a bit off to the side.

As I policed up the tickle tools, Ellen strolled back to ask if I needed any help. “Thanks Ellen, but I’m ok,” I answered. “I’m used to cleaning up after a session; old habits. You hang with your buddies.”

“What an interesting life you lead,” she observed. She was about to continue, but paused as Lisa stepped up behind me.

“Hey Quinn, quick question?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Could I finish Nancy’s time?”

I probably just blinked. “Finish…huh what?”

Lisa nodded at the tickle box. “I mean if I got in there and you tickled me, could we add my time to hers for the certificate percentage thing?”

“Oh honey,” Ellen offered. “You don’t need to do that!”

Lisa looked at her. “No it’s ok, I want to! It looks like fun! I could just pick up where Nancy left off, and maybe get you all some money back!”

I suspect at that moment, as we shared a glance, Ellen and I had the same realization: Lisa had just watched over $1000 in sales disappear in a poof of safewording.

Ellen put her hand on Lisa’s shoulder and pulled her aside for a quick chat that I couldn’t hear, with the chatter around Nancy still going strong. About then, Laura stepped over to give me a hug.

“That was something!” she said in my ear. “You must be in heaven.”

“She was amazing,” I admitted. “And I doubt that she’ll ever do it again, so yeah, that was definitely a moment. I mean, the whole evening has been unbelievable, but you almost never see people like Nancy get tickled…”

We kept chatting until a moment later, when behind us, Ellen raised her voice over the din. “Hey everybody, listen up! Lisa wants to finish Nancy’s turn in the box to earn more minutes!”

This got a round of ohhhs and some clapping sprinkled with “we’re ok!” and “you don’t have to do that!”

But then Lisa spoke up. “No really, I don’t mind! I’ve been watching you guys have fun all night and I never back down from a challenge! Besides, never let anyone say I’m not a fully dedicated sex toy pusher!”

With some laughs and cheers and encouragement for Lisa, the crowd turned back toward us. Laura whispered “you lucky dog” in my ear before she stepped away, and I could only shrug.

Hard to argue with that.

Coming next...
PART XII: LISA vs THE TICKLE BOX

 

[BlueLine7045]

Not that I haven't been enjoying all your stories so far, but Lisa is closest to my own age and this is what I have been waiting for this whole night! I was honestly afraid that she was going to sit by the sidelines all night and not participate! I'm so happy she decided to jump in! This is what I have been waiting for!