ticklishscribe
3rd Level Violet Feather
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The Tickles Concerto
Before you start reading this story I'd like if you will to indulge me a bit. In this story I extensively refer to Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" and his "Fur Elise," while part of the the tickling is going on in the later part of the story. If you don't remember or haven't heard these classical pieces before, here are two youtube links for your listening pleasure.
This is an option for you, but will help you enjoy the story a little more. You don't have to play them while the story is going on if you don't want to, but please play them in the order that the links appear below. As always, comments are very much appreciated
Moonlight sonata.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nT7_IZPHHb0&feature=fvw
Fur Elise: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_UOuSklNL4
This is an option for you, but will help you enjoy the story a little more. You don't have to play them while the story is going on if you don't want to, but please play them in the order that the links appear below. As always, comments are very much appreciated
Moonlight sonata.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nT7_IZPHHb0&feature=fvw
Fur Elise: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_UOuSklNL4
And last but certainly not least, I'd love to thank Eclipse as she was an awesome story lee.
The Tickles Concerto...
Inspired by Eclipse
Written by Ticklishscribe.
c.
Lenare was blindfolded and the lights were out, and while she was dressed in only her panties and red converse hi tops, she felt totally naked. The hair bristled on the back of her neck and she could feel rivulets of sweat beginning to slowly meander down her forehead and shoulders, not to mention her armpits and upper body. She wanted to rise, but being tied taught, spread-eagled on her tummy prevented that and the limited movement she had with her head, wouldn’t have allowed her to see much even if she weren’t blindfolded.
“I can get your tummy, ribs and nipples from both sides and so I proclaim you exquisitely accessible.” Kenyan whispered, teasing a lock of her shoulder-length chestnut brown hair. She jerked her head, drew a short sharp breath and lightly squealed; her body went rigid then squirmed intensely as she tried to move away from him. He leaned forward and began softly kissing the nape of her neck. She froze again then squirmed more, with another breath and squeal and this pleased him no end.
“Such a soft sensual neck and such an exquisite spine for me to play with.”
Again a jerk, squirm, sharp breath and squeal came from her, only this time she continued to squirm. She felt a single finger ever so slowly start tracing her forearm and its gossamer touch shot through her like lightning. Her arm instantly tingled and every nerve ending was instantly standing at attention personified. The finger was cruel in its slowness in traveling down her arm, crawling over every micrometer of sensitive skin. She clenched her fist then let her fingers splay out wildly, then clenched them again.
He now turned his attention to the thought of how much fun he would have exploring the deep recesses of her soft and smooth hollows. As he leaned forward and gently kissed the heights and depths of her left armpit, he could hear her gasp and softly giggle. He touched his lips to her armpit again and now her whole body was in constant movement, and hearty giggles were erupting from within her. His kisses were now ballet-like over her left armpit, and he kissed her pit as slow as possible. She shivered and shuddered even more at this slight touch and her breath quickened again. Now doing the same to the right pit, he watched as she squirmed more, then stopped, smiled and whispered how wonderful she was in reacting to his touch.
"I must explore your armpits more." He said softly then placing his fingertips into the deep recesses and pressed lightly. “Such sweet music cannot ignored.”
She felt his body next to her and she squirmed once more as she again felt his soft, feather touch. Her eyes closed tight and she bit her lip, trying as hard as she could not to laugh. His fingers began in a swirling motion and glided across her armpits. She felt as though each finger was working on its own and as though she were being ganged up on by ten people and backed up against a wall. Each one of her nerve endings was on fire and her mind was being rocketed to oblivion as each finger never left her skin, but never pressed hard enough to dull her senses. She felt as though her nerve ending were harp strings being plucked ever so slowly but ever so clinically and she was slowly being driven into madness.
“I will have total and complete control over every nerve ending and total and complete control over your mind as well. How does it feel to be a prisoner inside yourself?” He giggled slowly vibrated his fingers. “I will play you like Yo-Yo Ma plays the cello and play the concerto that only your nerve endings can give me. Or perhaps like Hilary Hahn, your favourite violinist.”
A vision Hilary Hahn playing the violin and of Yo-Yo Ma dexterously playing the cello flashed in her conscience and she could feel their fingers adeptly and vigorously moving up and down her spine, fingering each and every bone over and over again moving with the music. She didn’t want to be her violin and/or his cello and she certainly didn’t want to be Kenyan's concerto. She wanted to be anywhere but here as his fingers continued to seek out and orchestrate every nerve ending to its demise. She wanted to scream no, to bolt and run, to hide where he could never find her, but that was impossible.
Her hysterical reactions to the tickling were suddenly interrupted, by the feeling that her nipples were getting hard and she wanted anything for that not to happen. She knew that once he could see that he would pounce and sensually and sadistically tease her there. She could feel her nipples now as two hard points, screaming for release, screaming to be sensually taken and a battle raged within her. Suddenly she felt his hands on her breasts.
“I can just see your erect little nipples and they are asking for it my sweet symphony and so I must tease them to crescendo. Perhaps the opening to the Barber of Seville would suffice to drive you wild.”
She wanted to scream no but somehow all she could was make illegible sounds in return. Her muffled sounds got louder as he reached under her and began to lightly pinch and fondle first the left nipple then the right and then back to the left. Face down on the bed she couldn’t arch her back to get away from him and at the same time if she could, she would give him more room to access her nipples. She was now being divided between the erotic feelings that were now surfacing and the tickling that was driving her insane. Surely to God he would stop and give her much needed rest, but the relentless and pinching and fondling went on and on and on and her nipples got harder and hotter.
Then suddenly it all stopped and she was praying it wouldn’t start again. But suddenly with lightning swiftness, he dug his fingers back into her armpits and she erupted with shrieks of laughter. Her head was rapidly moving from side to side and her mouth was wide open. He moved his hands slowly down her armpits and also began rubbing the top of her ribcage as well. With that came another eruption in that she began to buck wildly and beginning to gutturally giggle. All the while he continued to dig his fingers into her armpits and the top of her ribcage.
Again he suddenly stopped and she grabbed for all the air she could take in. He was murderous so far and she was praying he would stop right now, before she went insane.
“I’m going to take my sweet, sweet time to remove your converse hi tops.” He whispered. And with that he wriggled her left sneakered foot.
Her foot tried to writhe out of his grip but his grip tightened and he held on.
“Yes, a symphony of tickles on your feet would be just the trick. I shall play you like the violin you are.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Came a muffled reply from the mattress.
“Well now my violin does sing, how lovely. And what music will you play for me today. What classical fantasy will you fill my soul with?”
She flinched and squirmed again, buried her head in the mattress and said a muffled no again. She flinched again when she felt a single finger’s gossamer touch slowly meandering down one side of her spine, then back up the other.
“Imagine each spinal bone as a fret, each one four different notes for the strings. Imagine fingers flitting, butterfly like up and down as I play the “Flight of the Bumblebee,” on you.”
She screamed no into the mattress and began rocking on the bed. His finger continued to meander up and down only slower and slower, as if to feel each spinal bone as he has said. His finger was murderous, torturous and incessant and she was going insane. Now two single fingers traveled up and down her spine and she screamed no into the mattress even louder.
“No… Then perhaps this? “And with that he began to lightly kiss up and down her spine instead, and this brought even more squirming from her and another muffled but intense no.
“Once again such sensually soft skin my dear and oh so kissable too. I’m already anticipating the spots to come, after I retie you on your back. Mmmmmm, nipples, ribs, tummy and something very sensual a little lower too. What was it you saying about your ribs being slightly visible? I just so love a hint of ribs; just enough to stroke, lightly vibrate and pinch.”
She squirmed at his descriptions, squirmed at how the words got more intense in her conscience and she prayed he would stop. There was a war going on inside her, as to whether his words or his kisses and tickles were the coup de gras, and mind was slowly imploding because of it.
“Such a lovely supple spine we have here, no bones about it.”
The puns were even worse, taunting her in the worse way and she howled into the mattress. The classical references, the descriptions and the puns all added up to one enormous taunt and it was looming over her.
“I could kiss your spine all day and night, as it tickles my lips. Your squirming also adds to the tickles and I must repay you for that.”
Repay! Another word that now loomed in her conscience and she desperately wondered what he meant by it.
“Soon I will, con_verse, with your feet. But for now, how about a tickle massage?”
She howled no into the mattress once more, hating the not so subtle reference to the converse all stars hi tops she was wearing and not wanting any part of a tickle massage in even the slightest form. She wanted to beg him to leave her feet alone, but that would be a dead giveaway as to how ticklish they were; especially her toes.
She had no time to react as he lightly spidered his fingers down on both sides of her ribcage, from armpits to tummy and then back up, just outside her breasts. She, giggly and frenzied from all the tickling he had already given her, giggled again even with him slowly moving his fingers. Then, slowly and sensuously, he began moving them up toward her armpits again, scratching in little circles along the bare, white skin. He could feel her delicate, hint of ribs underneath and felt them expand and contract spasmodically as she giggled. He spread his fingers wide and squeezed his way up to her armpits and back down to her flanks and she went wild in her bondage, laughing helplessly. He ran his fingers up and down her helpless torso, scratching light and quick, up to her armpits and her arms and legs flailed as far as their bonds allowed, and the bed rocked with her struggles under the soft rib tickling.
Suddenly he stopped and she took in all the air she could get. This respite was short lived as he resumed the kissing and added her armpits and the nape of her neck once more. She desperately wanted to scrunch her neck but her bondage didn’t allow that and she tried to shake him off. All of a sudden she felt him nibbling her neck and she howled into the mattress once more, then again tried to shake him off. He began kissing and nibbling her ears and again she howled and tried to shake him. He was incessant, torturous and driving her mad and she was squirming violently and howling into the mattress more and more. Her brain’s circuits were short of being overloaded as the tickles, nibbles and kisses came in constant waves. She wanted to scream no, but her guttural giggles and howls were stealing any breath with which she needed to speak.
She howled and gutturally giggled even more as 10 fingers now lightly and dexterously meandered up and down her spine and she jerked from side to side. As the fingers came back up, they made little forays of to either side and lightly tickled the tips of the ribs. She went wild in her bondage, buried her face into the mattress and howled and giggled like a banshee.
“Aren’t you just the violinist’s virtuoso and what an exquisite symphony performance you’re giving me. I must ask for an encore, but that will come much later as you have many more concertos to give me now.”
That brought more howls from her and more straining at her bonds. Her body was as taught as a watch spring and writhing intensely.
“Hello cello, such loveliness you’re giving me here. Please feel free to play on and on.
She didn’t want to be his cello she didn’t want to play on and on giving him concerto after concerto. She wanted to be free in both body and mind. Free from the intensely torturous tickles that he was giving her, free from the mind-blowing reactions that she was forced to give him. She screamed inside for him to stop, howled and gutturally giggled as the fingers traveled on and on and on. Her mind, body and almost even her spirit were imploding from this totally evil symphony he was playing again and again and again. From the moment his fingers touched anywhere on her body she was electric and the tickling sensations flashed from his fingers with lighting efficiency to her brain to explode in a furious repetition. Suddenly it became even more unbearable as each hand began to follow its own course and it was as though two people were tickling her now. Her senses were now being divided, surrounded, outnumbered and slowly overwhelmed to the point of either dying or being captured. The tickling when on and on and on and her howls and giggles did the same. She tried to form words, tried to beg him to stop, but her howls, giggles and intense writhing were stealing any strength and hope of that.
Suddenly he stopped and she took in every ounce of air she could get. She felt every bone in her body and every nerve ending that he had touched and tortured scream and she wanted to scream right along with them. She frantically prayed that the tickling was over, prayed that he had had enough and that the full body massage he had promised after the tickling was about to begin. She couldn’t hear him though and the silence was deafening and the fact that she was blindfolded made it even worse. Where was he, what was he up to, why wasn’t he untying her, were questions she was asking herself. She wanted to ask him, but she knew he wouldn’t tell, teasing her in the process and keeping her on edge.
“Time for a little Beethoven.” He finally spoke and spoke very softly in her left ear. “Do you like Beethoven? I love Beethoven; I somehow feel that his music has a little dark side to it.
She loved Beethoven, but the last thing she wanted him to do was to show any sort of dark side. Again she felt every bone in her body and every nerve ending that he had touched and tortured scream and she wanted to scream right along with them. She could hear little noises and wondered what he was up to, ravenously craving for any sound that would give him away. But the little noises were fleeting and the deafening silence had returned. She lifted her head to turn it toward any sound that he was making, but heard nothing.
He giggled softly, almost to himself and she squealed and this made him giggle again. She cursed herself for giving away that she was on the edge of the edge and that any movement from him was driving her insane.
“There, that’s done.” He quietly spoke. “I love that converse sneakers have such long laces that are so easy to untie. Yours were a breeze.”
She squealed again, suddenly realizing that if he had untied her laces, he had done it without her feeling anything. She squealed once more, now feeling a single finger tracing the upper edge of her left sneaker and teasing the ankle and bone as it did so. She drew a short sharp breath, jerked and squirmed intensely as she felt the finger slip inside and begin to tug the sides of her sneaker away from her ankle and foot. It was at this point that she cursed herself for not wearing any socks and now, hearing him giggle softly once more, she knew that he had just discovered that fact. Again she howled into the mattress and now begged profusely for him to leave her sneakers on and leave her feet alone.
“Aw no socks to tease you with my sweet. But such a hysterical foot to go with your hysterical mind and senses. This will make tickling it so much more sensually exquisite.”
She squealed, howled and continued to profusely beg, as she felt his hands ever so slowly close around the toe and heel of her now loosened sneaker. She frantically writhed her foot to try and keep it on, scrunching her toes, pushing her foot into the sneaker if at all possible, but at the same time, feeling the sneaker slowly moving away from her foot. As the cool air met her sole she scrunched her toes in some last ditch effort to stop him from tickling. The very audible thud of the sneaker hitting the floor made her squeal again and her now bare foot frantically writhed in its bondage. She squealed even more as she felt his hands close on her other sneaker and begin slowly pulling it off as well. More cool air on her soles and her toes flinched and sought any sort of refuge.
Suddenly she could feel some something soft being tied around her left big toe and then her toe being pulled and held taught. She felt the same being done to her right one and felt that the last shred of any protection and freedom for her feet, was now being slowly taken away and tossed aside with a cold calculating air. That image immediately vanished as she felt gossamer and slow kisses on each of her toes and now felt the kisses meander up one sole and then down the other.
“Is there any particular Beethoven piece you like? I know I have favourites.”
She drew in still another short sharp and very audible breath as the first haunting notes of the Moonlight sonata from a cd player, weaved their way about the room. She squealed immediately as she felt his gossamer touch, slowly playing her soles and toes like a piano, in time with the music. The electric tickling sensations ripped through her and she buried her head in the mattress once more, then howled and gutturally giggled again. Her arms and legs pumped, and writhed like crazy as she strained at her bonds and again she began begging profusely for him to stop. His gossamer touch and variation of long and short strokes in tune with the music, was driving her wild and she sought for any relief she could find. His fingers lightly meandered up and down her soles, stopping momentarily to tickle her heels and the tender balls immediately above, then moving up to caress her high arches before the beginning murderous crescendo on her toes. One by murderous one, his strokes were torturing each and every nerve ending and causing her brain to continue to implode. This was the worst and she was desperately trying to form words to beg him to stop.
Each piano note was a stroke and each stroke was worse than before and she cursed him for using such a beautiful piece of music against her. He blew lightly on the arches and balls of her upturned soles and this caused her to bury her head in the mattress and giggle intensely. Following the haunting movement of the sonata, he continued stroking with such light pressure, like butterfly wings gliding over each centimetre of her skin. Her giggles increased and he took the delicious opportunity to lightly apply more pressure. The light stroking of the pads of his fingertips changed to the gliding of his nails and up and down they went over each sole, then simultaneously up, down and across the balls her feet and under the toes. She tried to curl her toes, but the ties on her big toes kept her from moving them far.
“My you’re feet are exquisite, so soft, tender and oh so sensitive, and your long toes make playing the piano much more fun. And, being that there are many more concertos to come, I shall savour every note.”
She again buried her face into the mattress and howled as he once more began to play piano.
“I’m sure Beethoven would love this performance you’re giving me and I’m sure that he would love to play his symphonies on your feet. Can you imagine him playing the Fur Elise?”
He now blended the sonata into the Fur Elise, began stroking a little faster, and heard her giggles dissolve into hysterical guttural giggles and knew that this was the concerto he was searching for.
Are we having fun yet my sweet? Is the music a classic unto itself?”
She couldn’t answer back as the laughter had stolen her voice; he had stolen her voice. Her brain was short circuiting and she was screaming for relief, praying he would stop. The tickling was driving her insane and the classical references were nothing more then taunts to her. Her feet were a symphony of fire and the tickles burned within her, and her squirms had now dissolved into all out thrashing and straining in her bonds.
“Whenever I hear the Fur Elise, I always think of Schroeder from peanuts, sitting at his piano playing it. I also always remember the theme from that show too. You remember the Charlie brown theme?” Instantly he switched songs and the tempo and began tickling to it.
The Fur Elise was bad enough but the theme was even worse and her guttural giggles were getting louder. He was tickling faster and with added pressure as well and she was going into serious reaction overdrive.
“Isn’t this lovely: doesn’t it make you want to dance with all the other peanuts characters?”
She was frantic, hysterical and praying for anything other than what she was going through. She wanted to beg him to stop in the worse way but her laughter had taken control of her and her body only responded to the tickling, which now had her on the edge. The theme went on and on, shredding her senses and every nerve ending within her, teasing, taunting, torturing and making her almost hoarse from the laughter. Suddenly he stopped and took in every ounce of breath she grab and continued to strain at her bondage.
“On second thought, I’ll return to something more classical for you. Let’s go back to the old favourites” The Moonlight sonata was playing again and once more he was stroking and tickling to the music. She instantly began laughing again and thrashing intensely.
“NOOOOOOO, NO MORE BEETHOVEN! PLEEEEEEASE STAAAAAAAAHP!” She was now able to push out.
“But it’s the Moonlight sonata and you know you so love it. And I know how much you like me to play it for you.”
He had never played it for her and she didn’t want to him to play it for her, at least not in the way he was playing it now. She was losing it, losing her mind, losing all bodily function to try and escape, losing her voice to the laughter and her only way of talking to him; pleading with him. Each note was worse than the last, each touch and stroke of her soles and toes was more unbearable and she was well on her way to loosing it totally.
“Your tickle crescendo will soon be upon you sweetheart, as I continue to play your soles and toes and tease the silky soft skin. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the tickles and I’ve been wondering how you would feel, if I let Hilary Hahn's nimble fingers loose on your soles and toes. Perhaps a new version of Beethoven's 5th symphony?“
The Tickles Concerto...
Inspired by Eclipse
Written by Ticklishscribe.
c.
Lenare was blindfolded and the lights were out, and while she was dressed in only her panties and red converse hi tops, she felt totally naked. The hair bristled on the back of her neck and she could feel rivulets of sweat beginning to slowly meander down her forehead and shoulders, not to mention her armpits and upper body. She wanted to rise, but being tied taught, spread-eagled on her tummy prevented that and the limited movement she had with her head, wouldn’t have allowed her to see much even if she weren’t blindfolded.
“I can get your tummy, ribs and nipples from both sides and so I proclaim you exquisitely accessible.” Kenyan whispered, teasing a lock of her shoulder-length chestnut brown hair. She jerked her head, drew a short sharp breath and lightly squealed; her body went rigid then squirmed intensely as she tried to move away from him. He leaned forward and began softly kissing the nape of her neck. She froze again then squirmed more, with another breath and squeal and this pleased him no end.
“Such a soft sensual neck and such an exquisite spine for me to play with.”
Again a jerk, squirm, sharp breath and squeal came from her, only this time she continued to squirm. She felt a single finger ever so slowly start tracing her forearm and its gossamer touch shot through her like lightning. Her arm instantly tingled and every nerve ending was instantly standing at attention personified. The finger was cruel in its slowness in traveling down her arm, crawling over every micrometer of sensitive skin. She clenched her fist then let her fingers splay out wildly, then clenched them again.
He now turned his attention to the thought of how much fun he would have exploring the deep recesses of her soft and smooth hollows. As he leaned forward and gently kissed the heights and depths of her left armpit, he could hear her gasp and softly giggle. He touched his lips to her armpit again and now her whole body was in constant movement, and hearty giggles were erupting from within her. His kisses were now ballet-like over her left armpit, and he kissed her pit as slow as possible. She shivered and shuddered even more at this slight touch and her breath quickened again. Now doing the same to the right pit, he watched as she squirmed more, then stopped, smiled and whispered how wonderful she was in reacting to his touch.
"I must explore your armpits more." He said softly then placing his fingertips into the deep recesses and pressed lightly. “Such sweet music cannot ignored.”
She felt his body next to her and she squirmed once more as she again felt his soft, feather touch. Her eyes closed tight and she bit her lip, trying as hard as she could not to laugh. His fingers began in a swirling motion and glided across her armpits. She felt as though each finger was working on its own and as though she were being ganged up on by ten people and backed up against a wall. Each one of her nerve endings was on fire and her mind was being rocketed to oblivion as each finger never left her skin, but never pressed hard enough to dull her senses. She felt as though her nerve ending were harp strings being plucked ever so slowly but ever so clinically and she was slowly being driven into madness.
“I will have total and complete control over every nerve ending and total and complete control over your mind as well. How does it feel to be a prisoner inside yourself?” He giggled slowly vibrated his fingers. “I will play you like Yo-Yo Ma plays the cello and play the concerto that only your nerve endings can give me. Or perhaps like Hilary Hahn, your favourite violinist.”
A vision Hilary Hahn playing the violin and of Yo-Yo Ma dexterously playing the cello flashed in her conscience and she could feel their fingers adeptly and vigorously moving up and down her spine, fingering each and every bone over and over again moving with the music. She didn’t want to be her violin and/or his cello and she certainly didn’t want to be Kenyan's concerto. She wanted to be anywhere but here as his fingers continued to seek out and orchestrate every nerve ending to its demise. She wanted to scream no, to bolt and run, to hide where he could never find her, but that was impossible.
Her hysterical reactions to the tickling were suddenly interrupted, by the feeling that her nipples were getting hard and she wanted anything for that not to happen. She knew that once he could see that he would pounce and sensually and sadistically tease her there. She could feel her nipples now as two hard points, screaming for release, screaming to be sensually taken and a battle raged within her. Suddenly she felt his hands on her breasts.
“I can just see your erect little nipples and they are asking for it my sweet symphony and so I must tease them to crescendo. Perhaps the opening to the Barber of Seville would suffice to drive you wild.”
She wanted to scream no but somehow all she could was make illegible sounds in return. Her muffled sounds got louder as he reached under her and began to lightly pinch and fondle first the left nipple then the right and then back to the left. Face down on the bed she couldn’t arch her back to get away from him and at the same time if she could, she would give him more room to access her nipples. She was now being divided between the erotic feelings that were now surfacing and the tickling that was driving her insane. Surely to God he would stop and give her much needed rest, but the relentless and pinching and fondling went on and on and on and her nipples got harder and hotter.
Then suddenly it all stopped and she was praying it wouldn’t start again. But suddenly with lightning swiftness, he dug his fingers back into her armpits and she erupted with shrieks of laughter. Her head was rapidly moving from side to side and her mouth was wide open. He moved his hands slowly down her armpits and also began rubbing the top of her ribcage as well. With that came another eruption in that she began to buck wildly and beginning to gutturally giggle. All the while he continued to dig his fingers into her armpits and the top of her ribcage.
Again he suddenly stopped and she grabbed for all the air she could take in. He was murderous so far and she was praying he would stop right now, before she went insane.
“I’m going to take my sweet, sweet time to remove your converse hi tops.” He whispered. And with that he wriggled her left sneakered foot.
Her foot tried to writhe out of his grip but his grip tightened and he held on.
“Yes, a symphony of tickles on your feet would be just the trick. I shall play you like the violin you are.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Came a muffled reply from the mattress.
“Well now my violin does sing, how lovely. And what music will you play for me today. What classical fantasy will you fill my soul with?”
She flinched and squirmed again, buried her head in the mattress and said a muffled no again. She flinched again when she felt a single finger’s gossamer touch slowly meandering down one side of her spine, then back up the other.
“Imagine each spinal bone as a fret, each one four different notes for the strings. Imagine fingers flitting, butterfly like up and down as I play the “Flight of the Bumblebee,” on you.”
She screamed no into the mattress and began rocking on the bed. His finger continued to meander up and down only slower and slower, as if to feel each spinal bone as he has said. His finger was murderous, torturous and incessant and she was going insane. Now two single fingers traveled up and down her spine and she screamed no into the mattress even louder.
“No… Then perhaps this? “And with that he began to lightly kiss up and down her spine instead, and this brought even more squirming from her and another muffled but intense no.
“Once again such sensually soft skin my dear and oh so kissable too. I’m already anticipating the spots to come, after I retie you on your back. Mmmmmm, nipples, ribs, tummy and something very sensual a little lower too. What was it you saying about your ribs being slightly visible? I just so love a hint of ribs; just enough to stroke, lightly vibrate and pinch.”
She squirmed at his descriptions, squirmed at how the words got more intense in her conscience and she prayed he would stop. There was a war going on inside her, as to whether his words or his kisses and tickles were the coup de gras, and mind was slowly imploding because of it.
“Such a lovely supple spine we have here, no bones about it.”
The puns were even worse, taunting her in the worse way and she howled into the mattress. The classical references, the descriptions and the puns all added up to one enormous taunt and it was looming over her.
“I could kiss your spine all day and night, as it tickles my lips. Your squirming also adds to the tickles and I must repay you for that.”
Repay! Another word that now loomed in her conscience and she desperately wondered what he meant by it.
“Soon I will, con_verse, with your feet. But for now, how about a tickle massage?”
She howled no into the mattress once more, hating the not so subtle reference to the converse all stars hi tops she was wearing and not wanting any part of a tickle massage in even the slightest form. She wanted to beg him to leave her feet alone, but that would be a dead giveaway as to how ticklish they were; especially her toes.
She had no time to react as he lightly spidered his fingers down on both sides of her ribcage, from armpits to tummy and then back up, just outside her breasts. She, giggly and frenzied from all the tickling he had already given her, giggled again even with him slowly moving his fingers. Then, slowly and sensuously, he began moving them up toward her armpits again, scratching in little circles along the bare, white skin. He could feel her delicate, hint of ribs underneath and felt them expand and contract spasmodically as she giggled. He spread his fingers wide and squeezed his way up to her armpits and back down to her flanks and she went wild in her bondage, laughing helplessly. He ran his fingers up and down her helpless torso, scratching light and quick, up to her armpits and her arms and legs flailed as far as their bonds allowed, and the bed rocked with her struggles under the soft rib tickling.
Suddenly he stopped and she took in all the air she could get. This respite was short lived as he resumed the kissing and added her armpits and the nape of her neck once more. She desperately wanted to scrunch her neck but her bondage didn’t allow that and she tried to shake him off. All of a sudden she felt him nibbling her neck and she howled into the mattress once more, then again tried to shake him off. He began kissing and nibbling her ears and again she howled and tried to shake him. He was incessant, torturous and driving her mad and she was squirming violently and howling into the mattress more and more. Her brain’s circuits were short of being overloaded as the tickles, nibbles and kisses came in constant waves. She wanted to scream no, but her guttural giggles and howls were stealing any breath with which she needed to speak.
She howled and gutturally giggled even more as 10 fingers now lightly and dexterously meandered up and down her spine and she jerked from side to side. As the fingers came back up, they made little forays of to either side and lightly tickled the tips of the ribs. She went wild in her bondage, buried her face into the mattress and howled and giggled like a banshee.
“Aren’t you just the violinist’s virtuoso and what an exquisite symphony performance you’re giving me. I must ask for an encore, but that will come much later as you have many more concertos to give me now.”
That brought more howls from her and more straining at her bonds. Her body was as taught as a watch spring and writhing intensely.
“Hello cello, such loveliness you’re giving me here. Please feel free to play on and on.
She didn’t want to be his cello she didn’t want to play on and on giving him concerto after concerto. She wanted to be free in both body and mind. Free from the intensely torturous tickles that he was giving her, free from the mind-blowing reactions that she was forced to give him. She screamed inside for him to stop, howled and gutturally giggled as the fingers traveled on and on and on. Her mind, body and almost even her spirit were imploding from this totally evil symphony he was playing again and again and again. From the moment his fingers touched anywhere on her body she was electric and the tickling sensations flashed from his fingers with lighting efficiency to her brain to explode in a furious repetition. Suddenly it became even more unbearable as each hand began to follow its own course and it was as though two people were tickling her now. Her senses were now being divided, surrounded, outnumbered and slowly overwhelmed to the point of either dying or being captured. The tickling when on and on and on and her howls and giggles did the same. She tried to form words, tried to beg him to stop, but her howls, giggles and intense writhing were stealing any strength and hope of that.
Suddenly he stopped and she took in every ounce of air she could get. She felt every bone in her body and every nerve ending that he had touched and tortured scream and she wanted to scream right along with them. She frantically prayed that the tickling was over, prayed that he had had enough and that the full body massage he had promised after the tickling was about to begin. She couldn’t hear him though and the silence was deafening and the fact that she was blindfolded made it even worse. Where was he, what was he up to, why wasn’t he untying her, were questions she was asking herself. She wanted to ask him, but she knew he wouldn’t tell, teasing her in the process and keeping her on edge.
“Time for a little Beethoven.” He finally spoke and spoke very softly in her left ear. “Do you like Beethoven? I love Beethoven; I somehow feel that his music has a little dark side to it.
She loved Beethoven, but the last thing she wanted him to do was to show any sort of dark side. Again she felt every bone in her body and every nerve ending that he had touched and tortured scream and she wanted to scream right along with them. She could hear little noises and wondered what he was up to, ravenously craving for any sound that would give him away. But the little noises were fleeting and the deafening silence had returned. She lifted her head to turn it toward any sound that he was making, but heard nothing.
He giggled softly, almost to himself and she squealed and this made him giggle again. She cursed herself for giving away that she was on the edge of the edge and that any movement from him was driving her insane.
“There, that’s done.” He quietly spoke. “I love that converse sneakers have such long laces that are so easy to untie. Yours were a breeze.”
She squealed again, suddenly realizing that if he had untied her laces, he had done it without her feeling anything. She squealed once more, now feeling a single finger tracing the upper edge of her left sneaker and teasing the ankle and bone as it did so. She drew a short sharp breath, jerked and squirmed intensely as she felt the finger slip inside and begin to tug the sides of her sneaker away from her ankle and foot. It was at this point that she cursed herself for not wearing any socks and now, hearing him giggle softly once more, she knew that he had just discovered that fact. Again she howled into the mattress and now begged profusely for him to leave her sneakers on and leave her feet alone.
“Aw no socks to tease you with my sweet. But such a hysterical foot to go with your hysterical mind and senses. This will make tickling it so much more sensually exquisite.”
She squealed, howled and continued to profusely beg, as she felt his hands ever so slowly close around the toe and heel of her now loosened sneaker. She frantically writhed her foot to try and keep it on, scrunching her toes, pushing her foot into the sneaker if at all possible, but at the same time, feeling the sneaker slowly moving away from her foot. As the cool air met her sole she scrunched her toes in some last ditch effort to stop him from tickling. The very audible thud of the sneaker hitting the floor made her squeal again and her now bare foot frantically writhed in its bondage. She squealed even more as she felt his hands close on her other sneaker and begin slowly pulling it off as well. More cool air on her soles and her toes flinched and sought any sort of refuge.
Suddenly she could feel some something soft being tied around her left big toe and then her toe being pulled and held taught. She felt the same being done to her right one and felt that the last shred of any protection and freedom for her feet, was now being slowly taken away and tossed aside with a cold calculating air. That image immediately vanished as she felt gossamer and slow kisses on each of her toes and now felt the kisses meander up one sole and then down the other.
“Is there any particular Beethoven piece you like? I know I have favourites.”
She drew in still another short sharp and very audible breath as the first haunting notes of the Moonlight sonata from a cd player, weaved their way about the room. She squealed immediately as she felt his gossamer touch, slowly playing her soles and toes like a piano, in time with the music. The electric tickling sensations ripped through her and she buried her head in the mattress once more, then howled and gutturally giggled again. Her arms and legs pumped, and writhed like crazy as she strained at her bonds and again she began begging profusely for him to stop. His gossamer touch and variation of long and short strokes in tune with the music, was driving her wild and she sought for any relief she could find. His fingers lightly meandered up and down her soles, stopping momentarily to tickle her heels and the tender balls immediately above, then moving up to caress her high arches before the beginning murderous crescendo on her toes. One by murderous one, his strokes were torturing each and every nerve ending and causing her brain to continue to implode. This was the worst and she was desperately trying to form words to beg him to stop.
Each piano note was a stroke and each stroke was worse than before and she cursed him for using such a beautiful piece of music against her. He blew lightly on the arches and balls of her upturned soles and this caused her to bury her head in the mattress and giggle intensely. Following the haunting movement of the sonata, he continued stroking with such light pressure, like butterfly wings gliding over each centimetre of her skin. Her giggles increased and he took the delicious opportunity to lightly apply more pressure. The light stroking of the pads of his fingertips changed to the gliding of his nails and up and down they went over each sole, then simultaneously up, down and across the balls her feet and under the toes. She tried to curl her toes, but the ties on her big toes kept her from moving them far.
“My you’re feet are exquisite, so soft, tender and oh so sensitive, and your long toes make playing the piano much more fun. And, being that there are many more concertos to come, I shall savour every note.”
She again buried her face into the mattress and howled as he once more began to play piano.
“I’m sure Beethoven would love this performance you’re giving me and I’m sure that he would love to play his symphonies on your feet. Can you imagine him playing the Fur Elise?”
He now blended the sonata into the Fur Elise, began stroking a little faster, and heard her giggles dissolve into hysterical guttural giggles and knew that this was the concerto he was searching for.
Are we having fun yet my sweet? Is the music a classic unto itself?”
She couldn’t answer back as the laughter had stolen her voice; he had stolen her voice. Her brain was short circuiting and she was screaming for relief, praying he would stop. The tickling was driving her insane and the classical references were nothing more then taunts to her. Her feet were a symphony of fire and the tickles burned within her, and her squirms had now dissolved into all out thrashing and straining in her bonds.
“Whenever I hear the Fur Elise, I always think of Schroeder from peanuts, sitting at his piano playing it. I also always remember the theme from that show too. You remember the Charlie brown theme?” Instantly he switched songs and the tempo and began tickling to it.
The Fur Elise was bad enough but the theme was even worse and her guttural giggles were getting louder. He was tickling faster and with added pressure as well and she was going into serious reaction overdrive.
“Isn’t this lovely: doesn’t it make you want to dance with all the other peanuts characters?”
She was frantic, hysterical and praying for anything other than what she was going through. She wanted to beg him to stop in the worse way but her laughter had taken control of her and her body only responded to the tickling, which now had her on the edge. The theme went on and on, shredding her senses and every nerve ending within her, teasing, taunting, torturing and making her almost hoarse from the laughter. Suddenly he stopped and took in every ounce of breath she grab and continued to strain at her bondage.
“On second thought, I’ll return to something more classical for you. Let’s go back to the old favourites” The Moonlight sonata was playing again and once more he was stroking and tickling to the music. She instantly began laughing again and thrashing intensely.
“NOOOOOOO, NO MORE BEETHOVEN! PLEEEEEEASE STAAAAAAAAHP!” She was now able to push out.
“But it’s the Moonlight sonata and you know you so love it. And I know how much you like me to play it for you.”
He had never played it for her and she didn’t want to him to play it for her, at least not in the way he was playing it now. She was losing it, losing her mind, losing all bodily function to try and escape, losing her voice to the laughter and her only way of talking to him; pleading with him. Each note was worse than the last, each touch and stroke of her soles and toes was more unbearable and she was well on her way to loosing it totally.
“Your tickle crescendo will soon be upon you sweetheart, as I continue to play your soles and toes and tease the silky soft skin. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the tickles and I’ve been wondering how you would feel, if I let Hilary Hahn's nimble fingers loose on your soles and toes. Perhaps a new version of Beethoven's 5th symphony?“
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You're a master at this 
I can't wait. In which one of the four seasons do you want to make fireworks.
