Dr. Bill Kobb
Level of Cherry Feather
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2003
- Messages
- 10,264
- Points
- 48
[Warning -- Not for the squeamish. Bondage tickling fiction rife with non-consensual elements, served up sleazy and steamy. If you think for even a second, that this might not be your cup-of-tea, please read no further]
I was fortunate that the call came when it did. Oh, make no mistake, I would have come up with some sort of excuse to get me out of the house and to this very special “business” meeting, but, as luck would have it, my wife, Carolyn was catering one of her community dinner-parties, while my daughter Mandy had left for her evening class at the Jr. College only an hour previously.
Thus, when “Mr. Dean”(as I was instructed to call him) reached me around 5pm, I was filled with both relief and anticipation. It had been an enormously trying week waiting for word. I listened excitedly as he informed me that, yes, they had finally found just the right plaything for my little excursion, and that I was to wait at the Café Du Monde downtown, and I would be escorted to the location where the actual “session” would take place from there.
Perhaps alittle explanation is in order. You see, I am a man of means, and of rarified desires. But, I’m not getting any younger, and it’d been years since Carolyn had agreed to allow me to indulge my fetish desires. Oh, sure, I surreptitiously collect video-clips, and trade stories with fellow tickling devotees online, but all that does is make me crave it more, you know what I mean? Quite a frustrating predicament, to be sure. So, with business booming in my particular field the past several years, and I felt it was time I rewarded myself alittle for all the hard work that I’d put into giving my family the very best of everything. Is that so very selfish?
It wasn’t easy. Conducting these sorts of secretive negotiations takes planning, contacts, and patience. My standing in the community is impeccable, and I don’t need any, shall we say, ‘improprieties’ damaging the good name I’ve worked so hard to achieve. Thus, I needed to cultivate certain “associations” with individuals that I might not normally be on speaking terms with, in order to bring this much-desired plan into effect. Eventually, though, a ‘friend-of-a-friend’ put me in touch with the man I needed to know; the sort of person who can get you things or get things done for you, no matter what, provided the money is there.
As I waited inside the chic restaurant, sipping a latte and idly watching stragglers passing by on the windy streets outside, I was secretly thrilling to my little covert adventure, and dearly yearning for the chance to indulge my fantasies, much more so than I had ever done with my wife, who didn’t mind alittle tickling, maybe even wearing the fuzzy handcuffs I’d bought her one year, but would never go for the sort of bondage games I had in mind for this special day!
I was roused from my fanciful imaginings by a rather nebbish-looking man, who introduced himself as a Mr. Fallsworth, sent by Dean to escort me to our private destination. Things took on a decidedly clandestine air as Fallsworth chauffeured me to the secret rendezvous, explaining that Dean was making final arrangements with my so-called “play-date”, whom they had had quite a time finding, he added, and who should fit my specifications to a tee. While normally a quite reserved person, I found myself vexing my driver with questions, like an excited schoolboy. He explained that everything had been seen to, and that Dean would answer any particulars to the matter himself, once we’d arrived.
Our destination was hardly the sort of place one normally finds a man of my standing. We were just outside the docks district, and parked down the side alley of a dingy three-story brick building with a sign outside that read The After Dark Club. Fallsworth made a call, and after announcing our arrival, told me that all was in order, and to follow the stairs down to the black metal door at the bottom, where I would meet the provider of my fantasy excursion, Mr. Dean himself. As I made my way down the staircase, I took in the somewhat grim, seedy environs, slightly apprehensive, yet trembling with anticipation, now that I was finally this close to living my wildest tickling fantasies. It took my eyes a moment to adjust in the dark, rather dank hall past the door, and while they did, I heard the familiar voice of my benefactor, Mr. Dean.
“Ah, Mr. Miller! I trust you had an uneventful ride”, and shaking my hand, the balding, grey-eyed Mr. Dean led me into a room off of the hall. I was taken aback by the red lighting, and sordid red-leather furnished room. “Pardon the accommodations. As you can see, we arranged for your fantasy encounter in the backrooms of this private club for sadomasochistic devotees. You and I, and your “playdate” for the evening, are the only ones currently on the premises, as the club hours are 8pm-to-4am. I believe you’ll find her quite suitable for your particular “needs”, and quite in line with your specifications. As per our arrangement, once you enter the adjacent room, you will have exactly one hour to pursue your indulgencies with her. She is not a willing participant in the proceedings, and despite my informing her that she would not be injured, but merely…tickled, she is nonetheless in quite a state of agitation, as you can well imagine! I will be watching from a secret 2-way mirror, but will in no way interrupt the proceedings unless I feel that your companion is in genuine physical danger. You are to keep to the letter of your fantasy, concentrating on those things you described as being desirable for your encounter, and steering clear of extreme physical endangerment to her. If, for any reason, I feel that she is in real danger, either by purposeful action, or by merely by accident, the session will be terminated, and you will forfeit your payment. Are we in full understanding on this matter, Mr. Miller?”. Naturally, I agreed, as the most I intended on was perhaps some light pinching, maybe abit of mild spanking. It was the delight of tickling that I had gone to such great lengths for, not causing pain.
Producing a plastic harlequin-style mask, he instructed me, “Keep in mind, Mr. Miller, that your “playmate” is not here of her own volition, and for the safety of your identity, you should wear this mask so that she cannot possibly recognize you. In turn, she is as you had specified in our arrangement. As an added precaution, we have placed her into a state of sensory deprivation, so that you need never know her identity, and so she cannot pick you out by your voice, should you choose to speak during your session. Unless you yell into her ear, she will not likely hear you, as she has been outfitted with earplugs and a heavy black leather hood with only a mouth and nose-holes. In addition, she has been fitted with a rubber ball-style mouth-gag, as commonly worn by practitioners of the games that go on here after hours. Now, unless you have any further questions, I suggest we continue on with the proceedings, as your playmate has already been placed into the specific, how shall I say it?, “predicament” you had outlined in your proposal. And is undoubtedly in a state of some mild discomfort”, he explained with a wry smile. “Now, if you will”, and he pointed me toward the door across from were we had entered. I profusely thanked Dean, while my excitement mounted at finally beginning what promised to be a delightful hour of tickling bliss for me, and an exceedingly difficult experience for my captive ‘playmate’.
Exiting the red chamber, I was again in a short, narrow hall, with a door at the end. Nervously, I turned the handle, and entered as Dean spoke, “The clock is set as of now, Mr. Miller, enjoy your session.”
Oh, but the sight that greeted my hungry eyes upon entering that black-painted cellar ‘dungeon’! There, bound standing, arms and legs spread wide apart between two wooden support-beams, stood my naked, quivering quarry. “Hat’s off to you, Mr. Dean”, I grinned to myself, as I approached my delightful prize, trapped there like a bug in amber. I had half expected some slagged-out, tattooed stripper or crack-*****, but no, he had followed my demands to the letter, procuring a fresh, almost virginal-looking young thing with a slim, supple, gravity-defying body and smooth, creamy skin, like my Carolyn’s, twenty years ago, when we were still young. Granted, the black bondage hood atop such a ravishing figure was abit off-putting, but I supposed it was a necessary check. Whoever this fine-toned little angel was, she didn’t need to know who I was, and there was something incredibly sexy about the anonymity. Grinning, I closed within a foot of my plaything. She was perhaps a full head shorter than me, had she been standing flat-footed, and given her spread-eagled positioning between the two beams, I loomed a good foot or more over her tiny form.
Somehow, she could sense that someone was near her, and began tugging at her bonds and swiveling her hooded head to and fro, as if trying to look around. Her breathing came in quick little gasps behind the ball-gag, and I watched in heightening arousal as her perfectly formed breasts jiggled delectably. Her hips swayed side-to-side, apparently from her awkwardly imbalanced pose tied between the poles, and it was as if she were almost shimmying seductively, as I stepped behind her to admire her from the rear.
Oh, and what a stunning, perfect form she presented from this angle! Always an admirer of a well-rounded female posterior, I stared entranced as her perky bottom wagged around, poking out and jiggling as it flexed and quivered atop those smooth, slender legs. “Well, now, my naked little tickling slave”, I smiled, gently placing my fingertips on her sides, “are you ready to dance for your master?”. I was almost taken aback at the sudden ferocity of her reaction to my barely touching her! Perfect, Mr. Dean, I grinned! Slowly, I let my fingers slide down that tiny waist, enjoying the supple, soft buoyancy while she went into an amazing, writhing tantrum, round little butt shaking provocatively from her exertions.
Limited as her movements were by her taut bindings, she revolved between a breathtakingly sexy sort of wagging back and forth swivel on those luscious hips, and an even more entrancing poking sort of motion where she’d thrust that delectable rear out while her back arched seductively. I was all too happy to continue this slow exploration, my hands now working upwards, over her ribcage, which only renewed her desperate fight, mewling pitiably behind the big rubber ball wedging her jaw wide open. Widening my own stance, I pressed up against my desperate captive, while my hands gently wound around her soft, perfectly formed breasts, the tips of my index-finger making tiny wigglings over her tender pink little nipples, causing her to buck frantically up against me, so that she could feel the effect her hot body was having on me, my cock stiff as granite with those smooth ass-cheeks lolling up against the crotch of my slacks. I whispered, not knowing or caring if she could hear me, “Oh, yeah, baby doll. We’re just getting started!”.
Her breaths came in tiny gasps now, and I noticed a small trickle of dribble had begun cascading provocatively down her lower lip, dangling off of her chin, dancing around with her squirmings, as my fingers moved upwards towards the satiny softness of her exposed armpits. I was again simply astounded and delighted at the effect the tiniest ministrations had on this fresh spot! She went into a renewed frenzy of activity, making a sort of animal whinny while those fantastic hips bucked and danced spastically, that hot ass shaking magically, I had to back up for fear I’d cum then and there!
There’s no describing the intense rush, the feeling of total control, having someone this totally helpless, this sensitive, completely at your mercy, and a mere 15 minutes into our little session, every penny, every careful step in the planning had paid off in huge dividends! Her breaths came in short gasps, somewhere in between a cry and laughter, and a thin sheen of perspiration now caused that already fantastic body to practically shimmer!
I changed-up the tempo, as those armpits were even more ticklish than her ribs and hips, and dabbed my fingertips into the trickle of drool that was now working its way slowly down between her jiggling tits. In a soothing tone I whispered, “Oh, yeah! Who’s my tickly teaser today, hmm?”, as my moistened fingers again found their way to those pink, precious nipples. Her head lolled back and her breathing came in became deeper, gurgling behind the gag, while her taut tummy muscles contracted and relaxed, over and over, reflexively. My right hand slid over her slim abdomen, down past her hips, and I teased the outer lips of her pussy, happily discovering that she had grown quite moist and hot between those long, lovely legs. She teetered, thighs quivering divinely, as I leered, engorged at that little quivering ass shimmying around on display, poking back and up as she attempted to avoid my roving fingertips spreading those hot little pussy lips open, one tickling her tiny clit. She moaned, and whimpered deliciously, as I murmured, “Oh, yeah. Who’s daddy’s bad girl, huh?”, my cheek pressed to the side of the leather hood. She made a sort of gurgling sound behind the gag, and, still pinching her right nipple, I gave that luscious rear a swat with my left hand. She gasped, dismayed at the sudden change-up, and I followed with several more strokes, ecstatic at her reaction, and at the quickly reddening cheeks. She was moaning now, lost in some animal trance, leg muscles flexing and relaxing, as I slapped that marvelous ass. Her hips danced back and forth, and she made little crying sounds, but it only increased my enjoyment of her exquisite suffering. “There there”, I teased, not sure if she could even truly hear what I was saying, and frankly, not caring one wit, either, “You and I still have a good half hour of fun ahead of us, sweet-cheeks”, and left off with a solid blow to her right ass-cheek that caused her to yelp and sent her up on her toes.
Eyes lighting on a folding chair in a corner of the basement, “That will do nicely”, I thought, “and put me at the perfect level, too”. I fetched the chair, and opened it, setting it down near her, while I fished around in my pockets. Ah, there! Pulling out the bottle of baby oil I’d brought along, I upturned it and squeezed, oil flowing all over her shoulders, and down her torso , emptying the entire contents of the small, 5 oz. bottle. She gasped, and, standing in front of her slight form, I began to rub the streaming droplets all over her chest, kneading those sensational tits, up along her arms to the elbows, and back downward, circling that marvelous ass, insinuating a quick fingertip into her tight little butt, just to hear her yelp, before continuing down further, as far as her knee-area.
I pulled up the chair, and sat down, admiring my glistening, shiny tickle-pixie, made even more splendid with her soft skin shimmering in the dim light of the dark room. She was already breathing in quick, furtive gulps, seemingly guessing at what was about to befall her. I enjoyed the ravishing image for a moment before scooting the chair up so close, her nipples were practically poking me in the eye. I checked my watch, 20 minutes left.
It was time to take her through the final, punishing round, so to speak. I didn’t care if she fainted at this point, I’d had my fun and more, teasing and tormenting this delectable slender angel. If I sent her into a total seizure and Dean came barging in, stopping the session, so what?
Grinning, having catalogued her worst areas, I had no pity on my poor victim, fingers scrambling around up, down, across, and back to every hot spot, purposefully giving it to her in the worst way, only to suddenly stop, and watch her reel-in-place, body hovering, bound deliciously helpless, chest heaving as she gasped for air, a river of drool running down her already oily, glistening body, only to start it all over again. Her entire scintillating body was completely out of control, and she was jerking spastically, making amusing snuffling noises behind the face-filling rubber gag. Her hooded head was thrashing around madly, and, sensing her little legs might give out, they were twitching so badly, I again suddenly stopped. “Oooh, has my little ticklee had about all she can take?”, I teasingly taunted. Reaching into my other pocket, I pulled out a small, hand-held vibrator, and, flipping the switch, held it just barely touching those reddened pussy-lips, causing her to tremble violently, hips grinding, her breath again coming in gasps, while my other hand caressed her breasts, never allowing her to get too cozy, gliding down her oily side to pinch her hip, or dart into her ribs. Shuddering with pleasure from the vibrator, I left off from tickling and kneading her nipples, only to stop, reach over, and deliver blow after stinging blow to that fine, ripe ass. Completely caught up in waves of pleasure, I watched her melt into a shuddering climax, and, rather than let her rest, I cruelly set to tickling her again, until she had reached her breaking point. Finally, to satisfy my own urge for release, I rounded behind my captive, dropped trousers, and slowly and gently entered that oiled-up, exquisite ass. I rode her with increasingly deeper thrusts, faster and faster, `til she was screaming behind the gag, anally raping her until I pulled out, exploding cum all over that bouncing, jiggling backside. Then, I sat down and tickled her yet AGAIN, just to completely seal the deal. I didn’t manage to cause her to pass out, but she was so over-stimulated, so exhausted by now, that my ministrations were having little effect, and, as my time was all but up, I got up, and hugged my poor, tortured, shuddering play-mate, whispering thanks, kissing her on the leather hood, and telling her how perfectly happy she had made me in her exquisite misery. Then, I left her there, and returned to the red room, where Mr. Dean awaited.
“I trust your session was everything you had hoped for, Mr. Miller?” “Oh, quite!”, I laughed, shaking his hand. I must give it to you for finding the perfect tickling victim, Sir. She was a joy to torture! You have made me the happiest man on Earth”, and I thanked him, and departed, Fallsworth chauffeuring me back to the restaurant where I made my way home after cleaning up.
When I arrived back at my safe suburban home, far away from my debauched nights rendezvous, neither Carolyn nor Mandy were home. I settled in, pouring myself a brandy, and puffing on my pipe on the back patio, reliving my evening’s entertainment with the perfect tickle-slave, when the call came from the Police Station downtown. It was my daughter, Mandy. She had never made it to classes. As she, sobbing, began to relate to me, her dear old Daddy, how she had been abducted, tied-up, tortured and anally raped, the brandy-snifter dropped from my hand, and a tightness seized my chest…
THE CONTRACT
I was fortunate that the call came when it did. Oh, make no mistake, I would have come up with some sort of excuse to get me out of the house and to this very special “business” meeting, but, as luck would have it, my wife, Carolyn was catering one of her community dinner-parties, while my daughter Mandy had left for her evening class at the Jr. College only an hour previously.
Thus, when “Mr. Dean”(as I was instructed to call him) reached me around 5pm, I was filled with both relief and anticipation. It had been an enormously trying week waiting for word. I listened excitedly as he informed me that, yes, they had finally found just the right plaything for my little excursion, and that I was to wait at the Café Du Monde downtown, and I would be escorted to the location where the actual “session” would take place from there.
Perhaps alittle explanation is in order. You see, I am a man of means, and of rarified desires. But, I’m not getting any younger, and it’d been years since Carolyn had agreed to allow me to indulge my fetish desires. Oh, sure, I surreptitiously collect video-clips, and trade stories with fellow tickling devotees online, but all that does is make me crave it more, you know what I mean? Quite a frustrating predicament, to be sure. So, with business booming in my particular field the past several years, and I felt it was time I rewarded myself alittle for all the hard work that I’d put into giving my family the very best of everything. Is that so very selfish?
It wasn’t easy. Conducting these sorts of secretive negotiations takes planning, contacts, and patience. My standing in the community is impeccable, and I don’t need any, shall we say, ‘improprieties’ damaging the good name I’ve worked so hard to achieve. Thus, I needed to cultivate certain “associations” with individuals that I might not normally be on speaking terms with, in order to bring this much-desired plan into effect. Eventually, though, a ‘friend-of-a-friend’ put me in touch with the man I needed to know; the sort of person who can get you things or get things done for you, no matter what, provided the money is there.
As I waited inside the chic restaurant, sipping a latte and idly watching stragglers passing by on the windy streets outside, I was secretly thrilling to my little covert adventure, and dearly yearning for the chance to indulge my fantasies, much more so than I had ever done with my wife, who didn’t mind alittle tickling, maybe even wearing the fuzzy handcuffs I’d bought her one year, but would never go for the sort of bondage games I had in mind for this special day!
I was roused from my fanciful imaginings by a rather nebbish-looking man, who introduced himself as a Mr. Fallsworth, sent by Dean to escort me to our private destination. Things took on a decidedly clandestine air as Fallsworth chauffeured me to the secret rendezvous, explaining that Dean was making final arrangements with my so-called “play-date”, whom they had had quite a time finding, he added, and who should fit my specifications to a tee. While normally a quite reserved person, I found myself vexing my driver with questions, like an excited schoolboy. He explained that everything had been seen to, and that Dean would answer any particulars to the matter himself, once we’d arrived.
Our destination was hardly the sort of place one normally finds a man of my standing. We were just outside the docks district, and parked down the side alley of a dingy three-story brick building with a sign outside that read The After Dark Club. Fallsworth made a call, and after announcing our arrival, told me that all was in order, and to follow the stairs down to the black metal door at the bottom, where I would meet the provider of my fantasy excursion, Mr. Dean himself. As I made my way down the staircase, I took in the somewhat grim, seedy environs, slightly apprehensive, yet trembling with anticipation, now that I was finally this close to living my wildest tickling fantasies. It took my eyes a moment to adjust in the dark, rather dank hall past the door, and while they did, I heard the familiar voice of my benefactor, Mr. Dean.
“Ah, Mr. Miller! I trust you had an uneventful ride”, and shaking my hand, the balding, grey-eyed Mr. Dean led me into a room off of the hall. I was taken aback by the red lighting, and sordid red-leather furnished room. “Pardon the accommodations. As you can see, we arranged for your fantasy encounter in the backrooms of this private club for sadomasochistic devotees. You and I, and your “playdate” for the evening, are the only ones currently on the premises, as the club hours are 8pm-to-4am. I believe you’ll find her quite suitable for your particular “needs”, and quite in line with your specifications. As per our arrangement, once you enter the adjacent room, you will have exactly one hour to pursue your indulgencies with her. She is not a willing participant in the proceedings, and despite my informing her that she would not be injured, but merely…tickled, she is nonetheless in quite a state of agitation, as you can well imagine! I will be watching from a secret 2-way mirror, but will in no way interrupt the proceedings unless I feel that your companion is in genuine physical danger. You are to keep to the letter of your fantasy, concentrating on those things you described as being desirable for your encounter, and steering clear of extreme physical endangerment to her. If, for any reason, I feel that she is in real danger, either by purposeful action, or by merely by accident, the session will be terminated, and you will forfeit your payment. Are we in full understanding on this matter, Mr. Miller?”. Naturally, I agreed, as the most I intended on was perhaps some light pinching, maybe abit of mild spanking. It was the delight of tickling that I had gone to such great lengths for, not causing pain.
Producing a plastic harlequin-style mask, he instructed me, “Keep in mind, Mr. Miller, that your “playmate” is not here of her own volition, and for the safety of your identity, you should wear this mask so that she cannot possibly recognize you. In turn, she is as you had specified in our arrangement. As an added precaution, we have placed her into a state of sensory deprivation, so that you need never know her identity, and so she cannot pick you out by your voice, should you choose to speak during your session. Unless you yell into her ear, she will not likely hear you, as she has been outfitted with earplugs and a heavy black leather hood with only a mouth and nose-holes. In addition, she has been fitted with a rubber ball-style mouth-gag, as commonly worn by practitioners of the games that go on here after hours. Now, unless you have any further questions, I suggest we continue on with the proceedings, as your playmate has already been placed into the specific, how shall I say it?, “predicament” you had outlined in your proposal. And is undoubtedly in a state of some mild discomfort”, he explained with a wry smile. “Now, if you will”, and he pointed me toward the door across from were we had entered. I profusely thanked Dean, while my excitement mounted at finally beginning what promised to be a delightful hour of tickling bliss for me, and an exceedingly difficult experience for my captive ‘playmate’.
Exiting the red chamber, I was again in a short, narrow hall, with a door at the end. Nervously, I turned the handle, and entered as Dean spoke, “The clock is set as of now, Mr. Miller, enjoy your session.”
Oh, but the sight that greeted my hungry eyes upon entering that black-painted cellar ‘dungeon’! There, bound standing, arms and legs spread wide apart between two wooden support-beams, stood my naked, quivering quarry. “Hat’s off to you, Mr. Dean”, I grinned to myself, as I approached my delightful prize, trapped there like a bug in amber. I had half expected some slagged-out, tattooed stripper or crack-*****, but no, he had followed my demands to the letter, procuring a fresh, almost virginal-looking young thing with a slim, supple, gravity-defying body and smooth, creamy skin, like my Carolyn’s, twenty years ago, when we were still young. Granted, the black bondage hood atop such a ravishing figure was abit off-putting, but I supposed it was a necessary check. Whoever this fine-toned little angel was, she didn’t need to know who I was, and there was something incredibly sexy about the anonymity. Grinning, I closed within a foot of my plaything. She was perhaps a full head shorter than me, had she been standing flat-footed, and given her spread-eagled positioning between the two beams, I loomed a good foot or more over her tiny form.
Somehow, she could sense that someone was near her, and began tugging at her bonds and swiveling her hooded head to and fro, as if trying to look around. Her breathing came in quick little gasps behind the ball-gag, and I watched in heightening arousal as her perfectly formed breasts jiggled delectably. Her hips swayed side-to-side, apparently from her awkwardly imbalanced pose tied between the poles, and it was as if she were almost shimmying seductively, as I stepped behind her to admire her from the rear.
Oh, and what a stunning, perfect form she presented from this angle! Always an admirer of a well-rounded female posterior, I stared entranced as her perky bottom wagged around, poking out and jiggling as it flexed and quivered atop those smooth, slender legs. “Well, now, my naked little tickling slave”, I smiled, gently placing my fingertips on her sides, “are you ready to dance for your master?”. I was almost taken aback at the sudden ferocity of her reaction to my barely touching her! Perfect, Mr. Dean, I grinned! Slowly, I let my fingers slide down that tiny waist, enjoying the supple, soft buoyancy while she went into an amazing, writhing tantrum, round little butt shaking provocatively from her exertions.
Limited as her movements were by her taut bindings, she revolved between a breathtakingly sexy sort of wagging back and forth swivel on those luscious hips, and an even more entrancing poking sort of motion where she’d thrust that delectable rear out while her back arched seductively. I was all too happy to continue this slow exploration, my hands now working upwards, over her ribcage, which only renewed her desperate fight, mewling pitiably behind the big rubber ball wedging her jaw wide open. Widening my own stance, I pressed up against my desperate captive, while my hands gently wound around her soft, perfectly formed breasts, the tips of my index-finger making tiny wigglings over her tender pink little nipples, causing her to buck frantically up against me, so that she could feel the effect her hot body was having on me, my cock stiff as granite with those smooth ass-cheeks lolling up against the crotch of my slacks. I whispered, not knowing or caring if she could hear me, “Oh, yeah, baby doll. We’re just getting started!”.
Her breaths came in tiny gasps now, and I noticed a small trickle of dribble had begun cascading provocatively down her lower lip, dangling off of her chin, dancing around with her squirmings, as my fingers moved upwards towards the satiny softness of her exposed armpits. I was again simply astounded and delighted at the effect the tiniest ministrations had on this fresh spot! She went into a renewed frenzy of activity, making a sort of animal whinny while those fantastic hips bucked and danced spastically, that hot ass shaking magically, I had to back up for fear I’d cum then and there!
There’s no describing the intense rush, the feeling of total control, having someone this totally helpless, this sensitive, completely at your mercy, and a mere 15 minutes into our little session, every penny, every careful step in the planning had paid off in huge dividends! Her breaths came in short gasps, somewhere in between a cry and laughter, and a thin sheen of perspiration now caused that already fantastic body to practically shimmer!
I changed-up the tempo, as those armpits were even more ticklish than her ribs and hips, and dabbed my fingertips into the trickle of drool that was now working its way slowly down between her jiggling tits. In a soothing tone I whispered, “Oh, yeah! Who’s my tickly teaser today, hmm?”, as my moistened fingers again found their way to those pink, precious nipples. Her head lolled back and her breathing came in became deeper, gurgling behind the gag, while her taut tummy muscles contracted and relaxed, over and over, reflexively. My right hand slid over her slim abdomen, down past her hips, and I teased the outer lips of her pussy, happily discovering that she had grown quite moist and hot between those long, lovely legs. She teetered, thighs quivering divinely, as I leered, engorged at that little quivering ass shimmying around on display, poking back and up as she attempted to avoid my roving fingertips spreading those hot little pussy lips open, one tickling her tiny clit. She moaned, and whimpered deliciously, as I murmured, “Oh, yeah. Who’s daddy’s bad girl, huh?”, my cheek pressed to the side of the leather hood. She made a sort of gurgling sound behind the gag, and, still pinching her right nipple, I gave that luscious rear a swat with my left hand. She gasped, dismayed at the sudden change-up, and I followed with several more strokes, ecstatic at her reaction, and at the quickly reddening cheeks. She was moaning now, lost in some animal trance, leg muscles flexing and relaxing, as I slapped that marvelous ass. Her hips danced back and forth, and she made little crying sounds, but it only increased my enjoyment of her exquisite suffering. “There there”, I teased, not sure if she could even truly hear what I was saying, and frankly, not caring one wit, either, “You and I still have a good half hour of fun ahead of us, sweet-cheeks”, and left off with a solid blow to her right ass-cheek that caused her to yelp and sent her up on her toes.
Eyes lighting on a folding chair in a corner of the basement, “That will do nicely”, I thought, “and put me at the perfect level, too”. I fetched the chair, and opened it, setting it down near her, while I fished around in my pockets. Ah, there! Pulling out the bottle of baby oil I’d brought along, I upturned it and squeezed, oil flowing all over her shoulders, and down her torso , emptying the entire contents of the small, 5 oz. bottle. She gasped, and, standing in front of her slight form, I began to rub the streaming droplets all over her chest, kneading those sensational tits, up along her arms to the elbows, and back downward, circling that marvelous ass, insinuating a quick fingertip into her tight little butt, just to hear her yelp, before continuing down further, as far as her knee-area.
I pulled up the chair, and sat down, admiring my glistening, shiny tickle-pixie, made even more splendid with her soft skin shimmering in the dim light of the dark room. She was already breathing in quick, furtive gulps, seemingly guessing at what was about to befall her. I enjoyed the ravishing image for a moment before scooting the chair up so close, her nipples were practically poking me in the eye. I checked my watch, 20 minutes left.
It was time to take her through the final, punishing round, so to speak. I didn’t care if she fainted at this point, I’d had my fun and more, teasing and tormenting this delectable slender angel. If I sent her into a total seizure and Dean came barging in, stopping the session, so what?
Grinning, having catalogued her worst areas, I had no pity on my poor victim, fingers scrambling around up, down, across, and back to every hot spot, purposefully giving it to her in the worst way, only to suddenly stop, and watch her reel-in-place, body hovering, bound deliciously helpless, chest heaving as she gasped for air, a river of drool running down her already oily, glistening body, only to start it all over again. Her entire scintillating body was completely out of control, and she was jerking spastically, making amusing snuffling noises behind the face-filling rubber gag. Her hooded head was thrashing around madly, and, sensing her little legs might give out, they were twitching so badly, I again suddenly stopped. “Oooh, has my little ticklee had about all she can take?”, I teasingly taunted. Reaching into my other pocket, I pulled out a small, hand-held vibrator, and, flipping the switch, held it just barely touching those reddened pussy-lips, causing her to tremble violently, hips grinding, her breath again coming in gasps, while my other hand caressed her breasts, never allowing her to get too cozy, gliding down her oily side to pinch her hip, or dart into her ribs. Shuddering with pleasure from the vibrator, I left off from tickling and kneading her nipples, only to stop, reach over, and deliver blow after stinging blow to that fine, ripe ass. Completely caught up in waves of pleasure, I watched her melt into a shuddering climax, and, rather than let her rest, I cruelly set to tickling her again, until she had reached her breaking point. Finally, to satisfy my own urge for release, I rounded behind my captive, dropped trousers, and slowly and gently entered that oiled-up, exquisite ass. I rode her with increasingly deeper thrusts, faster and faster, `til she was screaming behind the gag, anally raping her until I pulled out, exploding cum all over that bouncing, jiggling backside. Then, I sat down and tickled her yet AGAIN, just to completely seal the deal. I didn’t manage to cause her to pass out, but she was so over-stimulated, so exhausted by now, that my ministrations were having little effect, and, as my time was all but up, I got up, and hugged my poor, tortured, shuddering play-mate, whispering thanks, kissing her on the leather hood, and telling her how perfectly happy she had made me in her exquisite misery. Then, I left her there, and returned to the red room, where Mr. Dean awaited.
“I trust your session was everything you had hoped for, Mr. Miller?” “Oh, quite!”, I laughed, shaking his hand. I must give it to you for finding the perfect tickling victim, Sir. She was a joy to torture! You have made me the happiest man on Earth”, and I thanked him, and departed, Fallsworth chauffeuring me back to the restaurant where I made my way home after cleaning up.
When I arrived back at my safe suburban home, far away from my debauched nights rendezvous, neither Carolyn nor Mandy were home. I settled in, pouring myself a brandy, and puffing on my pipe on the back patio, reliving my evening’s entertainment with the perfect tickle-slave, when the call came from the Police Station downtown. It was my daughter, Mandy. She had never made it to classes. As she, sobbing, began to relate to me, her dear old Daddy, how she had been abducted, tied-up, tortured and anally raped, the brandy-snifter dropped from my hand, and a tightness seized my chest…
THE END
© Rick Tibbler - 2007
😛aw:© Rick Tibbler - 2007
