tied and tickled!!!

[deadlywiffeathr]

......

 

[maniactickler]

hi everyone, just having a bit of fun here........

wat would u do if u walked into a room and i was tied spread eagle to the bed, in my bra and underwear, with a blindfold on, surrounded by a selection of tickling tools

???????????????????

be creative and use PLENTY of detail!!!! hehe

I would call the police immediately and untie you. then try to figure out who did this to you!

 

[TickleTorturer]

I'd do what we discussed in chat the other day, and much much more

 

[Yashar]

First, I'd ask you what happened.
Then, I'd untie you if you promise to tickle me... 😉

 

[huskys]

Hey girl, cool post!!
What would I do ????
Well, you could say it would be a journey of discovery for both of us.

You'd find out how hard you can laugh, how much you can beg, and how good you are at promising me the world.

And I'd find out how much mercy I DON'T have!!! 😉

 

[kilitiinko1]

Oh my!

Why,I`d do what any other person here would do..... I`d lock the door and call in sick to work! !!!!!

 

[ticklesaurus]

oh my dear,you would be in deep trouble.

 

[NavelTickler75]

I would set to work, taking a feather in one hand and an electric toothbrush in the other.

Gently I would slide the feather up and down your belly, drawing giggly faces on it, as I sit near your hips, and tickle your armpits with the electric toothbrush, smiling as you wiggle and scream and laugh.

 

[Liquid Napkins]

I would faint.

 

[TKLOVER27]

where to start

I would start with some gentle teasing. Work my way around and find ALL your sensative areas. I would play a little game of say uncle in which I ickle till you say uncle and if you hold out long enough u get a reward such as a nice foot rub or massage. If you want more detail send me a PM and I will gladly give you anything you like.

 

[3leiwat]

oh my dear,you would be in deep trouble.

u r right

 

[Illtcklu]

hi everyone, just having a bit of fun here........

wat would u do if u walked into a room and i was tied spread eagle to the bed, in my bra and underwear, with a blindfold on, surrounded by a selection of tickling tools

???????????????????

be creative and use PLENTY of detail!!!! hehe

Turn out the light and close the door!

Heeheeeeeheee




I don't want to make my response public.............

 

[NavelTickler75]

Then maybe I'd pour some cool chocolate on your skin and tickly lick it off, lol!

 

[FunnyClub]

take my sweet time. Maybe pour a glass of wine. savour the moment. talk to you and get you into an ultra-mode of anticipation. Have you break out into goose-bumps. So the lightest, first touch would make you explode. toy with you and make a creative sexy game out of everything. you can't rush art.

 

[luvgirlsfeet]

well seeing how you are ticklish in my 2 favorite area's ( feet and belly button ) i will make sure each of them gets ALOT of attention

 

[herotickle]

Me? *I ponder this.* I have absolutely no idea. I might just go nuts and thank the lord a thousand times before I would do something to you, and I honestly don't know what it would be.

 

[Michael514]

God I would first ask if you were o.k. Then when you said yes I would stare at you with a devious smile. When you asked why Iam not untying you, I would tell you to wait just one minute then I would hold your toes back and use every tickle tool and my imagination, on your bare feet, for hours!

 

[tikltoy]

wat would u do if u walked into a room and i was tied spread eagle to the bed, in my bra and underwear, with a blindfold on, surrounded by a selection of tickling tools

be creative and use PLENTY of detail!!!! hehe

Hi, I found this thread; and though it is old, I am inspired to contribute. I hope this is the type of response you wanted, and not too intense. I have chosen to write it as a story. I posted a similar story on another board, but it got little response from that board's members. The folks here, for the most part, seem to be a more friendly and open bunch. Extra points if you can identify all the movie references.

----------------------

MISTAKEN IDENTITY, Part 1


I open the door, slowly. The door creaks. I love how the door creaks: without fail, the bound prisoner within will tense at hearing the sound, alert and fearful. She does not know what is happening. You, my prisoner, do not know what is happening.

"Who -- who's there?" you ask in a quavering voice.

"Be still, my dear," I offer softly. You turn toward me as you hear my approach. You flip your head from side to side, trying to hear as much as possible, in compensation for being blindfolded. "Hello, my prisoner. I will be your tormentor. You may call me--Tormentor."

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" You struggle at your bonds, but you can barely move. My assistants have done well, as they always do. You are spread-eagled, nice and tight, but not too tight, making a beautiful X on the tickle table. An array of tools is laid about; a vast array. I am a craftsman, you see, and I need a myriad of tools. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? LET ME GO!"

I chuckle; you jump. "Oh, my sweet morsel, I will indeed let you go. Once you tell me the combination to the box." The box is in my hand: small, but made of thick hardened steel, with a 10-position alphanumeric combination. I have been told, by the forensics team, that any attempt to force it open might very well damage the delicate data card inside. It would take weeks to break the combination, and we do not have weeks to spare. Our best hope is to extract the combination from the one who knows it. Extracting information is my work. And I am passionate about my work. Obsessed with it, some have said.

"WHAT BOX? WHAT BOX? GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

"Oh, my delicious prisoner, I will get you out. Only I can get you out, in fact. None other." I lean close, whispering in your ear. "You only need to tell me how to open the box. I want so much to see inside the box." Your whole body shudders as my words invade you: intimately cruel. "If you just tell me the code, we can avoid the harrowing tortures I have planned for you."

"WHAT TORTURE! DON'T HURT ME! OH GOD, DON'T HURT ME!"

I caress your cheek; you yelp at the touch, then relax as you sense there is no threat in the gesture. "Relax, my delicious puppet," I whisper. "I would never hurt you. My torments... are far worse than pain."

"OH GOD! OH GOD HELP ME!"

"God?" I ask. "Your god has abandoned you. Your new god is... tickling. And I am its manifestation."

You shriek in fear, in frustration, in terror; a long, wailing "nooooooooooooooooo!!!" I look carefully at your lush body: the soft curves, the glowing skin, the deep, round navel; the tender feet and delicate toes. Yes, I would imagine you are quite ticklish. Otherwise, you would not have reacted this way.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT DO YOU WANT? JUST LET ME GO, I'll DO ANYTHING, DON'T TICKLE ME, OH PLEASE--"

"Anything? Anything, Kylie? Just tell me the code. You have ten seconds to tell me the code. When I count down to zero, I will take this sable hair brush... and do you know what I will do with it?"

"WHAT? WHAT? WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME KYLIE?" You begin to pant, your chest heaving. Goooood, gooood. You are suffering from tickle torment before I even touch you. Your own imagination is more powerful than any implement I can use. Sometimes I think the fear of tickling is worse than the tickling itself. When I have time, I will need to perform some clinical studies on this theory. But now, I must attend to you.

"What I will do is start at your wrist, and slowly drag it down your forearm, with just the slightest hint of a touch, down to the hollow of your underarm. And then start back at your wrist, all over again. And again. Slowly. Delicately. I am told that my tickle tortures are... unbearably excruciating."

I count backwards, whispering the numbers in your ear. You scream NO! with each number. You quiver, and I see goose bumps on your arms. I know that a whisper can tickle so much, causing spasms and shivers. I am nothing if not cruel.

Finally... zero. "Are you certain, my savory treat, that you will not tell me what I want to know? Tell me, Kylie, and avoid my merciless interrogation."

"WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL, MY NAME IS NOT KYLIE, WHO ARE YOU WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO MEEEEEEEE--"

She is more well trained than I suspected. She even denies her own name. She gives me nothing. Not at the moment, anyway. To look at her, one would think she is the sweet girl next door. It is difficult to believe this adorable young lady is a hardened operative. Yet, she has been discovered, and captured, and others have done their job. I must do mine. I always do mine.

"Please, please tell me the code. Don't make me do this to you. I have watched too many prisoners lose their sanity this way."

"WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING ME A MORSEL AND A TREAT WHAT AM I A DAMN PASTRY I DON'T KNOW ANY DAMN CODE YOU FREAK I WON'T TELL YOU ANYTHING--"

"Really?" I lament. "Well then, I hope that relentless tickle agony... is something you enjoy."

Your shrill cries pierce the room as I drag the soft, wide brush slowly down your arm, into your soft underarm, where I twirl it. You arch off the bed, mouth open in a silent cry; I can only imagine your eyes bulging wide, but it is not time to take off the blindfold, not yet. Yes, very sensitive on the underarms.

"I see your underarms are quite sensitive. Do you really want to endure this? I have so many tools... and I will try them all on you. Tell me something." I lean in close, whispering, conspiratorial. "Do you think it is a greater torture if I use a very soft brush, or a firm brush? Do you think a wider brush is more cruel, or a fine point? I can spend hours finding out."

Your answer is a desperate wail. This does not help me unlock the box.

"Your screams do not help me unlock the box, dear Kylie. Please just tell me the code. I don't think you can endure as many days of this as I am prepared to visit upon you."

"WHO THE HELL IS KYLIE YOU ARE A SADISTIC FREAK LET ME GO--"

You do not know how much I crave a voluptuous navel. Such a thing is my secret desire, my guilty pleasure as some might say. Others crave strong drink, or cigarettes, or chocolate; I crave only some soft, plush flesh to tickle without end, and most of all, like a cherry on a delicious sundae, or the fudge frosting on a dark chocolate brownie, I crave a deep, round navel as the delightful garnish. You have such. I cannot resist. I grasp the ultrasonic toothbrush.

"Yes, my delicacy, I am a sadistic freak... but you are a devious criminal... my employers are waiting outside, to hear what you know... and you see, to them, you're a freak... like ME!" I cackle madly; you respond with a shrill screech. "Do you know what I have in my hand?"

"HOW THE HELL CAN I SEE YOUR HAND WITH THIS BLINDFOLD YOU MORON--"

"Very well... you will pay for your lack of vision. Now, young Kylie... you will suffer." I push the button; the toothbrush hums; and I plunge the bristles deep into your perfect navel.

Your body heaves and spasms as if shocked. The muscles in your neck are strained; your mouth open in a silent scream; your soft tummy quivering as you squirm and thrash. I grin with delight as I satisfy my need to lavish relentless tickling on a helpless navel. After two minutes, alas, the timer on the ultrasonic toothbrush stops. I hate those damned timers.

Your arched body falls back on the bed, your chest heaving as you gasp for breath. I brush your damp hair away from your face, and blow cool breath on the flushed pink skin between your neck and the top of your breasts. You speak between gasps.

"oh please... just stop... don't know... some code... you've got... wrong girl..."

Oh, you're good. A lesser man would be fooled. But not I. Besides, I live to practice my art. My art is tickling--and you are my canvas. I plan to create a masterpiece.

I reach down and caress your soft tummy with my fingertips, drawing slow circles, occasionally plunging my finger deep into your navel, burrowing and wiggling, then sliding it out and tracing around the rim. You squeal, giggle, sigh and squirm. I love to watch you writhe at my tickling touch. It is said that Adam and Eve were created, not born, and thus did not have navels; and that all who were born after were formed in the womb, and thus had an umbilicus. Some call the fall of Adam and Eve a sin; I call it a gift, for without that fall, there would be no bellybuttons for me to ravage. I'm told my reasonings sometimes cross the border of sanity. If that is so, then I revel in my insanity--so long as I can spend my days tickling.

I stop and let you rest. I need the information soon, but it can wait a little while, and I don't want to break you too quickly. Truth be told, most of my prisoners tell me everything within minutes. While I am considered the best at what I do, I am always bitterly disappointed when my prey are weak and vulnerable. An operative who can resist for hours is a rare delight. One who can resist for days is absolute ecstasy. I have high hopes for you, my sweet. Even if you tell me the code, I will convince the Section Coordinator that I believe you have more information, and I need to work you thoroughly for days to come... perhaps, for weeks. I know that, when I am done, you will be thoroughly broken and exhausted, compliant, devoid of will, empty of hope, stripped of resistance. Then, if I am so lucky, as a reward for my service, they will let me keep you as my own personal tickle toy. But now I must depart from this self indulgence and return to the task at hand.

"You realize you cannot resist for long, my angel. But there is no shame in this. No one can resist my touch. Those who have tried too hard are in therapy, locked in padded rooms while we try to bring their sanity back. Please don't do that to yourself." I pause. "Everything has taken place just as we have forseen. We have captured every one of your pitiful band. You have all fallen into our trap... and once you tell me the code, that will be the end of your insignificant rebellion."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" you scream, desperate, your body heaving against your bonds, your imagination building a vision of heinous tickling torment.

"I see you have softened the skin of your delicate feet," I whisper. "Your friends have taught you well. Your skills are complete." Your lower lip quivers and you bite it. Your breathing is ragged and shallow. Do I sense fear? I love to tickle a well-kept pair of feet nearly as much as I love to devour a perfect navel. "Do you know what I will do? I will take a stiff feather, and pull it between your toes. Your feet will writhe in tickle agony, but there will be nothing you can do. Nothing. You are so helpless to my ticking whims. And my whims are endless."

"No no no.... no... not my feet..."

"You are correct, my pet. Those are now MY feet. To do with as I wish, for my amusement. And I wish to do many things to them. I will explore your bare, helpless feet in intricate detail. I will explore each toe, tickling with every tool at my disposal, finding the softest spots. It seems that the little spot where the base of the toe meets the ball of the foot is usually very vulnerable to tickling. The electric flosser is often very effective there. I love to hear my prisoners beg for mercy when the flosser is buzzing against their writhing feet. Sometimes I don't even ask them anything." I enjoy hearing your whimpering and whining as I taunt you, my words lashing you worse than a leather crop ever could. You sob with anticipation, knowing what I am going to do to you.

I move down to your feet. I turn the wheel on the tickle table so that your legs are now closed, and with a soft leather thong I tie your big toes together. You struggle, you thrash, but there is no hope of escape. You squeal and jump as I begin to massage your feet. As my touch soothes and relaxes your flesh, you sigh and moan with pleasure.

"Good, yes my puppet, relax. Do you like this?"

"Oh... yesss...." you sigh.

"I'm so glad. You know, a massage makes the skin... more ticklish."

"Oh no no no no no--" You struggle, but your feet are more immobilized than ever.

"Well Kylie," I explain, "I do so want to see inside the box, but since you won't help me do that, I will indulge in my second most favorite desire, which is devastating tickle torment." I push the button on the electric flosser, and your feet tense as you hear the hum. I see your face scrunch as you grit your teeth, trying to brace yourself against the unbearable torment to come. With a stiff feather in one hand and the flosser in the other, I move toward your wriggling toes. "Now," I say, "I want you to tell me which is worse, the feather between your toes, or the flosser...."

(Stay tuned for Part 2)....

 

[Knot Amewzed]

hi everyone, just having a bit of fun here........

wat would u do if u walked into a room and i was tied spread eagle to the bed, in my bra and underwear, with a blindfold on, surrounded by a selection of tickling tools

???????????????????

be creative and use PLENTY of detail!!!! hehe

I would whip up a Rachel Ray 30 minute meal and force you to eat it.

 

[paracarl44]

I would experiment with ALL of the tickle tools.

 

[Angel77]

I might have to become a 'ler for that day.

 

[Lord Doctor]

hi everyone, just having a bit of fun here........

wat would u do if u walked into a room and i was tied spread eagle to the bed, in my bra and underwear, with a blindfold on, surrounded by a selection of tickling tools

???????????????????

be creative and use PLENTY of detail!!!! hehe

 

[texastickler]

hi everyone, just having a bit of fun here........

wat would u do if u walked into a room and i was tied spread eagle to the bed, in my bra and underwear, with a blindfold on, surrounded by a selection of tickling tools

???????????????????

be creative and use PLENTY of detail!!!! hehe

OK! So I have no damned idea where I was when this thread was made. The first thing I would do is get down on my hands and knees and thank God for the gift. LOL! I will think on this one. You know I will give you creative!😉

 

[Sweed]

I might have to become a 'ler for that day.

Same here.

 

[Lord Doctor]

Given that I've over 15 years of tickle catching up to do....