Ok, another shot at some fiction. Might encourage some to invest in real estate (My personal contribution to encourage the economy! LOL!)
Enjoy, and your feedback, please.
Professor Tkl
“Time to Pay the Rent”
Each of the girls held their breath. Stacy held four straws in her hand, each appearing to be the same length but one was not. The other three stared and prepared to pick a straw. A lot was at stake. These three college co-eds lived in a beautiful rented home in an expensive area of Ann Arbor. They all came from humble backgrounds and were hard working, trying to pay their way through college so as to secure a good job after school. Fortunately, they found a house for rent through a friend of one of their former housemates, Melissa. This girl had lived there before and made the girls aware that it was an “all or none” arrangement for an all female renter clientele and that any girl that found a new renter would receive a free month’s rent. The rent was expensive but the landlord was willing to make a “trade” each month in lieu of a rent check.
Larry was a pleasant man in his early sixties and did a fantastic job with maintaining his properties. He and his wife were always friendly and always responsive to renter’s needs. Larry however loved to tickle women. His wife had felt the play of his fingers on a regular basis over the years, indulging his fetish for tickling her as well as other women – knowing that with others only tickling would occur and it actually afforded her a break from his vellicatious ministrations. The girl who drew the short straw would be Larry’s tickle slave for an entire Saturday from noon until midnight and that Saturday – the first one in the month – was the next day. So the first Friday evening of the month ritual the girls had devised ensued.
Melissa drew first. She was a tall brunette majoring in engineering. She was remarkably ticklish and happened to be the short straw girl last month and recalled her Saturday ordeal quite well. She squirmed as she recalled her feet locked into homemade stocks while Larry’s nimble fingers danced over her bare soles causing her to squirm and squeal and beg to no avail. Butterflies in her stomach, she drew. Long straw: she was safe for another month.
Next was Janet, a Psychology major. Janet was a petite Asian American with a very contemporary sense of fashion – always dressed to the latest styles. She was nervous although she had been the “tickle girl” once several months ago. Being unbearably ticklish as well, while she would do it if chosen, she would admittedly be happy to forebear going through a Saturday like that again. Her fingers withdrew and held a long straw – safe once again.
It was down to Stacey and Loretta. Stacey was a 4’9” curvy blonde from Southern Pennsylvania who was a freshman and as of yet undeclared. She had yet to “pay up” and had dodged the short straw the last two months she had been living there. Being the most junior girl in the house, she had the duty of holding the straws. Loretta was an exceptionally pretty African-American marketing major. She was really hoping that it was Stacey’s month. She was the “tickle girl” two months ago and still got butterflies in her stomach recalling one particular memory. She was bound to a spanking horse while Larry sat in front of her tickling her ribs and pits while his wife, Margaret, stood behind her using her long, manicured nails to tickle torment her hot spot: her full, luscious booty. It was the first and only time she actually screamed out of ticklish laughter. Loretta reached for the straw as she drew she and Stacy both felt as if they had neither breath nor heartbeat. Long straw. Stacy got dizzy. Loretta breathed a sigh of relief. As past tradition dictated, the girls went out to dinner at a local student hangout with Stacey, being the designated tickle girl, being treated by the rest.
Each Saturday Margaret had a standing appointment in town for a pedicure at one of the finer salons in the area. On the first Saturday of the month however, that slot was taken by whoever the tenant tickle girl would be that month – on Larry’s tab of course. Stacey was at the salon promptly and giggled her way through the soaking and exfoliating and the subsequent paraffin and lotioning with her toes painted a quaint shade of pink with French tips. She then, butterflies in her stomach, drove to Larry and Margaret’s home to fulfill her obligation.
Arriving at a large, stately home in a posh neighborhood Stacy drove up the long winding driveway. With her purse and backpack in hand she rung the front doorbell and took a deep breath in anticipation. Larry answered, smiling broadly and welcomed her in. He offered to hang up her coat for her and did so in a small closet adjacent to the large front double doors. He then directed her to a sitting room where Margaret greeted her with a hug and offered her some tea or soda and some finger foods set out. As she sat on an overstuffed chair facing Larry and Margaret, who were seated comfortably on a leather couch, she looked wide eyed and attentive as Larry spoke as this was her first time as the tenant tickle girl for the month.
“You do understand that this is voluntary, my dear. You have the check?”
“Yes.” She handed Larry the check for the monthly rent.
“Good. Margaret will cash this now and the cash will be returned to you by the end of the day should you choose to endure. It’s 11:30 now and the tickling will begin at noon. Should you wish to forfeit, then you may at any time but we will keep the cash and you and your housemates can decide how to deal with that whole thing. The girls explained the outfit you would need?”
“Yes. I - I have it with me,” Stacy replied nervously, indicating the small backpack she carried with her.
“Outstanding. As you know, you are from noon until midnight my personal tickle slave. You are to be tickled to my satisfaction or to that of anyone I wish to allow to tickle you. You will also be required to allow yourself to be tickled or to be bound at our discretion. You will be given breaks to use the bathroom and we have a very nice dinner planned. As you may know, Margaret has endured ticklings from me over the years and has subsequently taken a fondness to tickling other women so she will likely be your tickler as well. Occasionally I have friends visiting who like to tickle and they would have access to you during that period the same as I. As of now I have no visitors planned for today unfortunately. Did I explain that clearly?”
“Sure”
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, no questions,” Stacy answered nervously.
“Now, you are allowed to wear the outfit you have chosen. Should you be requested to remove any part of it to make a particular ticklish spot more exposed, you will be compensated by having some of your time here also removed. Your shoes and socks, obviously do not count and we ask that you keep your socks on until either we remove them or ask you to. By the way, did you like the pedicure?”
“Yeah, it was great. Thank you.”
“No, thank you, my dear. That salon is top notch. Margaret and I have found over the years that they do the best job in town.”
“It was very nice. I’d never been there before.”
“Well then, young lady, do you have any questions?”
“Not really,” Stacy giggled in anticipation.
Margaret walked through the door with an envelope, obviously from a bank and handed it to Larry smiling. He pocketed the cash and offered a large bathroom for Stacy to change and use the facilities as the noon hour was fast approaching.
Stacy clad herself in a white, button-down sleeveless top, keeping the bottom half unbuttoned and tying it just below her bra line in front, exposing her midriff. The blouse bulged with the round fullness of her ample breasts. She wore what amount to some average make of exercise shorts. Stacy had inherited the family “birthing hips” and would be entirely pear shaped were it not for her bosom. Her naturally curly blonde locks fell about her face and shoulders framing her exceptionally large blue eyes. She wore the white cotton ankle socks that she donned immediately after the toenail polish was dried at the salon, keeping that soft, fresh, warm feeling in her feet from the day’s earlier treatment. The butterflies in her stomach were at fever pitch. Could she endure this? She could not face her housemates I if she didn’t and could not come up with the rent money herself if she did not. So placing her other clothes in her pack she stepped out of the room to begin her ordeal.
Larry greeted her and led her down a hallway and then down a set of stairs to a furnished basement corridor. He turned and opened a door to show a beautifully decorated room inside of which sat a large, overstuffed chair with straps on various parts of it. Stacy was directed to have a seat. Instinctively she sat with her arms on the rests and Larry strapped her immobile with the leather straps over her wrists, upper arms, ankles and mid thighs. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“Comfy?” Larry asked.
Stacy could only nod and giggle unable to keep the smile off her face knowing what was about to happen. She had been tickled as a girl and occasionally by a boyfriend and was well aware that she was obscenely ticklish. The chair was very comfortable however so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
The sound of a large grandfather clock chimed in the distance – obviously the one situated in the foyer upstairs. After twelve chimes it was time to begin. Larry’s wiggling fingers approached Stacy’s bare tummy and her giggling could not be stifled before they even made contact while her head shook back and forth in a last minute plea. When his skilled, smooth fingers met the 18 year old’s soft skin she pulled at her bonds with eyes open wide as saucers squealing with uncontrollable laughter. Larry’s fingers danced and gently poked all about the girl’s ticklish tummy. She danced about best as her bonds would allow wanting to swat those tickly hands away from her sensitive midriff but unable to do so. It would have been more bearable had the tickling remained there. Without warning Stacy felt the experienced fingers of her tickler wander to her bare lap and toward her knees held bent in place. Stacy’s legs had particularly soft skin and the tickling was almost intolerable. She never knew that the spider tickling and gentle squeezes could drive her so far out of her mind. Although she had emptied her bladder just before beginning she worried about peeing her pants, although it was a shame she would surely endure if it guaranteed even a moment’s reprieve from the tickling which seemed to go on forever.
The Grandfather clock eventually struck once and Larry ceased. Had an hour gone by? It seemed to Stacy like a lifetime. She was freed from her bonds and immediately asked for a bathroom toward which she made haste emptying her bladder in a hurry that would have put a racehorse to shame. Having straightened out her outfit and wiped away the remaining tears from her laughter she returned a moment later to nonetheless continue.
“Are you sure you want to continue, dear?” Larry asked.
“I’m sure,” she replied. Stacy felt she had no other choice.
“On to the next then,” Larry replied cheerfully.
Margaret then came down the stairs with some refreshments. Stacy eagerly drank some of the cold lemonade offered hoping that her bladder would hold up through the next round of tickling.
“Well,” Margaret remarked, “it sounds like somebody has a very ticklish tummy!”
Stacy blushed.
Larry recognized the look he received from Margaret. She wanted a turn at tickling Stacy and Larry knew just how his wife liked her girl tummies packaged for tickling. He led Stacy to another room with a large, padded, upright, half-wheel like object sticking out of the ground. The other half was obviously buried along with the axle. It was about 36 inches wide and luxuriously padded with straps in place at various points. It was thick and very sturdy. Once again the room was well furnished with paintings and bookshelves and the like but with this device, made of the same dark wood as the furniture, in the middle of the carpeted, spacious room. Stacy swallowed hard but knew what she must do. Larry restrained her arms above her head at two points as well as her knees and thighs to the while as Stacy stood there her back against the padded device, leaning back. Then Larry unlocked a mechanism and turned the wheel back a bit lifting Stacy off her feet enough to secure her ankles. The wheel he then turned again until Stacy’s was essentially laying horizontally with an arch in her whole body. This made her feel especially vulnerable – more so than the chair.
Margaret walked in and Larry waved goodbye to Stacy as he exited and closed the door. He could hear through the door Margaret say something about a ticklish tummy followed by Stacy’s cackling and squealing, obviously due to the ministrations of Margaret’s well manicured fingernails. He walked back upstairs to have a drink all the while hearing the muffled sounds of the young girl’s howls of laughter as a result of his wife’s ticklish ministrations. These sounds faded off into silence as he reached the main floor of the home. This was the advantage of having soundproofed the basement.
Behind that closed door Margaret approached the giggling girl, outstretched and immobilized on the giant padded wheel. The tickler was grinning broadly with fingers wiggling in the air headed quite obviously for the same target her husband had focused on in his first tickling of the sensitive, curvy blonde.
“I hear we have a ticklish tummy,” Margaret almost sang as Stacy’s head shook back and forth giggling all the while, having no more effect in stopping this tickler that it did her mate.
“Here it comes . . kithcy, kitchy, tickle girl . . . here comes the tickling fingers!” as the ten well manicured tentacles closed in on the helpless tummy set as their target. Stacy pulled at her bonds and squealed wide eyed when Margaret’s fingers finally met their mark, dancing and gently probing and driving the young woman crazy all the while. But Margaret’s love of tummy tickling did not stop any further exploration. She made it a point to count Stacy’s ribs and linger over and over again in gently tickling those smooth, soft armpits which were just shaved clean that morning and were so vulnerably exposed. Stacy did not realize until Margaret showed her that a woman’s hips can be very ticklish spots. Stacy’s hips were round and full, giving her an almost pear shape – a trait all the women in her family had. Perhaps her ticklishness there was part of the same trait, but she had no time to contemplate that as her whole world was filled with the tickling of Margaret’s nimble fingers. Those well manicured nails and superbly soft skin of her fingers combined with not only experience as a tickler but years as a ticklee made Margaret a world class tickler. She was showing her best talents with Stacy and obviously was delighted to do so. This showed in Margaret’s wide grin and occasionally giggling herself as she tickled and tickled and tickled away the helpless, restrained girl.
Stacy, when she got a chance to breathe would spend those breaths begging Margaret to stop. She was considering whether she could tolerate this for the entire time. Larry was a good tickler, a really good tickler actually; but Margaret was lethal. She would have promised virtually anything to Margaret to stop and let her go. She practically passed out but Margaret eventually did stop and led her to a room with a bed and an adjacent bathroom suggesting she take an hour to rest before her next ordeal. Stacy, surprised that her bladder did not empty itself on the tickle wheel, used the bathroom and at once laid down for a nap.
She awoke to Margaret notifying her that it was time to continue. Some ladies from the local book club Margaret belonged to were coming over for dinner. Stacy was told that she was to be the after-dinner entertainment and that the ladies were intrigued with the idea of having a pretty young woman at their disposal to tickle. Larry would have a turn at Stacy in the meanwhile. Margaret, unbeknown to Stacy, only asked that Larry spare her feet for the dinner party. He agreed with the proviso that he have his own chance to tickle the lovely young woman’s feet later.
Stacy was then bound bent over the bed she slept on with her arms outstretched and Larry began to tickle under her outstretched arms. His fingers danced about her ribs causing to let out her characteristic ticklish squeal and squirm about in her bonds. He played those ribs like a piano causing musical begging and laughter to fill the room. When he noticed the soft skin of the back of Stacy’s thick legs was vulnerable, he drew a feather from a drawer and sat on the ground behind the poor girl, tracing the feather up and down the backs of her pretty, soft legs. He would commonly pause to linger in small circles a the backs of her knees. To this squeals and pleas for mercy would ensue, of course to no avail.
Margaret entered to let the pair know that the guests had arrived and that dinner was ready. Stacy was given a satin dressing robe and invited up to dinner. The dinner was outstanding and polite conversation was shared by all at the table. Stacy almost forgot why she was there. All three of the ladies who were visiting seemed nice enough and normal in every way. Stacy could not help but notice, however that each one had well manicured fingernails, some longer than others. Once the dinner was over, Larry offered to clean up while the ladies went on to their book club meeting.
The Ladies were meeting in the sitting room with chairs in a circle surrounding a small coffee table bearing some tea and small, appetizer sized desserts. Across the room, near a lit fireplace was an overstuffed chair with a sturdy appearing wooden implement in front of it. It was made of dark wood and had two small padded holes it the front setting about waist high to the occupant of the chair. Stacy was directed by Margaret to have a seat. Asking about the implement, she was informed that they were an old invention called “stocks”. Once seated and guided to place the ankles of her still socked feet in the holes with the top of the stocks opened it dawned on her what was about to happen. Margaret replaced the top of the stocks and locked them shut.
“Comfy?”, she asked, smiling.
“Sure” Stacy replied. The stocks were well padded and the large chair was well padded as well. Both were large and heavy enough that she was not going anywhere no matter how she struggled. The butterflies in her stomach returned in anticipation of the inevitable.
The Ladies began their discussion as if Stacy was not even present, much to her surprise. But then after a few minutes one of the ladies stood up from her seat and sat herself on the bench in front of the stocks.
“What to we have here?” she mused. Stacy giggled in anticipation. A long painted red fingernail began to trace a path up and down the arch of her right foot.
“Heeeheheeheheheheheeeee, nooohohohohooo, PLEHEEEHEEEASE! Not my feeheeheheheeeeeet!”
But Stacy’s pleadings were to no avail as the woman’s ministrations increased to all out spider tickling all over her right sole. The cotton sock provided only a minimal barrier to the probing fingers of her delighted tickler. Another the sat herself on the other side of the bench inquiring aloud to herself about the other foot, an amused smile across her face. With two sets of manicured hands then dancing all over her socked feet Stacy’s laughter, squirming and squealing increased.
Margaret then interjected “Larry got her an appointment with my pedicurist, you know. Why don’t we take those socks off and see how they did.” Stacy almost panicked. The tickling ceased momentarily as the socks were peeled off her feet, but she was well aware that the tickling was about to get worse.
Stacy had small, wide feet. She wore a size six shoe and her plump, round toes sat one next to the other, wiggling in the cool air of her recently exposed feet. Her toenails were painted a pale pink with white French tips. She was wide eyed as her ticklers eyed her deliciously ticklish little feet.
“This gonna be fun!,” one of the woman grinned as her wiggling fingers approached the giggling girl’s bare arches.
There was no delay in Stacy’s immediate cackling laughter and her second tickler made haste to join in. Nothing in Stacy’s world existed apart from twenty manicured fingers dancing mercilessly over her poor bare feet. There were normally unbearably ticklish but after the manicure, it was ten times worse.
When the women had each taken turns several times with the now pinkened soles of the breathless blonde and said their goodbyes for the night, Larry found his way into the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Hmmm . . I guess we’re alone,” he remarked to the young woman still bound with her bare feet protruding from the stocks. “I wonder what we should do?”
He had no doubt as his smooth, nimble fingers found their way all over every inch of the bound girl’s bare feet producing renewed squealing hysteria. Larry was in ecstasy; this girl was one of the most ticklish yet. The howls of laughter his tickling produced attested to that. Her large bosom bounced all about under her top as she laughed and her curly blonde locks danced about, framing the seemingly permanent wide grin on her angelic face. After a while, her guests having left Margaret joined the two in the sitting room. Not to be denied access to those pretty little peds, Margaret insisted on having a turn of her own before letting young Stacy finally loose. Stacy wondered if she could take any more and was thrilled to get out of those stocks and use the bathroom. The clock only read 9:00 pm – three hours to go.
Stacy wasn’t sure she could last through another three hours of tickling. She had come so close, however and endured so much. She pleaded with Margaret and Larry to let her go sooner. Margaret proposed a deal. Thinking carefully Margaret responded.
“Well, my dear, I will offer you a choice. You can either spend the next three hours back in the stocks and Larry and I will up until the strike of midnight take turns tickling, feathering and nibbling on those cute little feet of yours . . .”
Stacy became lightheaded and nervous at the thought.
“ . . . Or we can bind you downstairs, your hands above your head and tickle you all over for an hour and you’re done. Thing is, if we do that then you need to lose the top, your bra and your shorts. I can see you are wearing thong panties so you can keep those, but keep in mind then that every inch of you is fair game, including those beautiful young boobies of yours.” Margaret seemed to relish the thought.
What kind of a choice was that! Stacy swooned as she thought it over.
“Well, my dear, you can either choose or we can let you think while in the stocks. Unless of course you want to walk away and give up.”
Stacy asked “Okay, where do I get undressed?” She figured one hour of torture was better than three, even if she did get a titty tickling out of it. She just wanted to get it over with.
In another basement room an iron loop was attached solidly to a crossbeam in the ceiling. And several smaller ones were imbedded in the carpet. Stacy stripped down to her pink thong panties exposing her round, full breasts and pale pink nipples. She had thick legs and a round, full bottom with pale soft skin smooth as glass and flawless in its texture. She reached her hands over her head as Larry bound them with padded leather cuffs and secured then with a nylon strap to the ceiling loop. Each of Stacy’s ankles were secured with a similar cuff and attached tightly to iron loops in the floor a little wider apart than shoulder width. At least the carpet was plush and soft on her still bare feet.
“Ready, ticklish girl?” Margaret grinned.
Stacy was frozen in part due to her bondage and in part in anticipation. She knew what Margaret was about to do. Margaret’s nimble fingers began to dance all over Stacy’s curvaceous breasts. Stacy never had been tickled there before and was almost surprised at bursting out in wide-eyed, uncontrolled laughter. The young woman’s bosom bounced and danced much to the delight of her tickler but could not escape her touch even for a moment. Larry sat behind the girl dancing his fingers all over the backs of her legs occasionally tickling her round, full bottom causing it to squirm and shake all about, much to his delight. Margaret’s fingers wandered of course to the exposed tummy, armpits, ribs, hips and neck of her bound victim. Each maneuver was responded to with uncontrolled squeals of laughter and involuntary squirming so much as her bonds would allow. When the two ticklers switched places, Margaret took to lightly dancing her fingers over the tops of Stacy’s bound feet as well as her legs. She lingered much longer than Larry did on the ticklish girls buttocks. These seemed to be one of Stacy’s most ticklish spots of all. This foot tickling drove the poor girl to the brink of insanity almost as much as the woman’s manicured fingers’ merciless teasing of her bare bottom.
Finally, the ten o’clock hour came and Stacy was released and shown to a room to freshen up. Receiving a hug from both of her ticklers and an envelope with the rent cash, she headed home. She had no doubt she would sleep well that night. She was hoping and praying for a long straw next month.
Enjoy, and your feedback, please.
Professor Tkl
“Time to Pay the Rent”
Each of the girls held their breath. Stacy held four straws in her hand, each appearing to be the same length but one was not. The other three stared and prepared to pick a straw. A lot was at stake. These three college co-eds lived in a beautiful rented home in an expensive area of Ann Arbor. They all came from humble backgrounds and were hard working, trying to pay their way through college so as to secure a good job after school. Fortunately, they found a house for rent through a friend of one of their former housemates, Melissa. This girl had lived there before and made the girls aware that it was an “all or none” arrangement for an all female renter clientele and that any girl that found a new renter would receive a free month’s rent. The rent was expensive but the landlord was willing to make a “trade” each month in lieu of a rent check.
Larry was a pleasant man in his early sixties and did a fantastic job with maintaining his properties. He and his wife were always friendly and always responsive to renter’s needs. Larry however loved to tickle women. His wife had felt the play of his fingers on a regular basis over the years, indulging his fetish for tickling her as well as other women – knowing that with others only tickling would occur and it actually afforded her a break from his vellicatious ministrations. The girl who drew the short straw would be Larry’s tickle slave for an entire Saturday from noon until midnight and that Saturday – the first one in the month – was the next day. So the first Friday evening of the month ritual the girls had devised ensued.
Melissa drew first. She was a tall brunette majoring in engineering. She was remarkably ticklish and happened to be the short straw girl last month and recalled her Saturday ordeal quite well. She squirmed as she recalled her feet locked into homemade stocks while Larry’s nimble fingers danced over her bare soles causing her to squirm and squeal and beg to no avail. Butterflies in her stomach, she drew. Long straw: she was safe for another month.
Next was Janet, a Psychology major. Janet was a petite Asian American with a very contemporary sense of fashion – always dressed to the latest styles. She was nervous although she had been the “tickle girl” once several months ago. Being unbearably ticklish as well, while she would do it if chosen, she would admittedly be happy to forebear going through a Saturday like that again. Her fingers withdrew and held a long straw – safe once again.
It was down to Stacey and Loretta. Stacey was a 4’9” curvy blonde from Southern Pennsylvania who was a freshman and as of yet undeclared. She had yet to “pay up” and had dodged the short straw the last two months she had been living there. Being the most junior girl in the house, she had the duty of holding the straws. Loretta was an exceptionally pretty African-American marketing major. She was really hoping that it was Stacey’s month. She was the “tickle girl” two months ago and still got butterflies in her stomach recalling one particular memory. She was bound to a spanking horse while Larry sat in front of her tickling her ribs and pits while his wife, Margaret, stood behind her using her long, manicured nails to tickle torment her hot spot: her full, luscious booty. It was the first and only time she actually screamed out of ticklish laughter. Loretta reached for the straw as she drew she and Stacy both felt as if they had neither breath nor heartbeat. Long straw. Stacy got dizzy. Loretta breathed a sigh of relief. As past tradition dictated, the girls went out to dinner at a local student hangout with Stacey, being the designated tickle girl, being treated by the rest.
Each Saturday Margaret had a standing appointment in town for a pedicure at one of the finer salons in the area. On the first Saturday of the month however, that slot was taken by whoever the tenant tickle girl would be that month – on Larry’s tab of course. Stacey was at the salon promptly and giggled her way through the soaking and exfoliating and the subsequent paraffin and lotioning with her toes painted a quaint shade of pink with French tips. She then, butterflies in her stomach, drove to Larry and Margaret’s home to fulfill her obligation.
Arriving at a large, stately home in a posh neighborhood Stacy drove up the long winding driveway. With her purse and backpack in hand she rung the front doorbell and took a deep breath in anticipation. Larry answered, smiling broadly and welcomed her in. He offered to hang up her coat for her and did so in a small closet adjacent to the large front double doors. He then directed her to a sitting room where Margaret greeted her with a hug and offered her some tea or soda and some finger foods set out. As she sat on an overstuffed chair facing Larry and Margaret, who were seated comfortably on a leather couch, she looked wide eyed and attentive as Larry spoke as this was her first time as the tenant tickle girl for the month.
“You do understand that this is voluntary, my dear. You have the check?”
“Yes.” She handed Larry the check for the monthly rent.
“Good. Margaret will cash this now and the cash will be returned to you by the end of the day should you choose to endure. It’s 11:30 now and the tickling will begin at noon. Should you wish to forfeit, then you may at any time but we will keep the cash and you and your housemates can decide how to deal with that whole thing. The girls explained the outfit you would need?”
“Yes. I - I have it with me,” Stacy replied nervously, indicating the small backpack she carried with her.
“Outstanding. As you know, you are from noon until midnight my personal tickle slave. You are to be tickled to my satisfaction or to that of anyone I wish to allow to tickle you. You will also be required to allow yourself to be tickled or to be bound at our discretion. You will be given breaks to use the bathroom and we have a very nice dinner planned. As you may know, Margaret has endured ticklings from me over the years and has subsequently taken a fondness to tickling other women so she will likely be your tickler as well. Occasionally I have friends visiting who like to tickle and they would have access to you during that period the same as I. As of now I have no visitors planned for today unfortunately. Did I explain that clearly?”
“Sure”
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, no questions,” Stacy answered nervously.
“Now, you are allowed to wear the outfit you have chosen. Should you be requested to remove any part of it to make a particular ticklish spot more exposed, you will be compensated by having some of your time here also removed. Your shoes and socks, obviously do not count and we ask that you keep your socks on until either we remove them or ask you to. By the way, did you like the pedicure?”
“Yeah, it was great. Thank you.”
“No, thank you, my dear. That salon is top notch. Margaret and I have found over the years that they do the best job in town.”
“It was very nice. I’d never been there before.”
“Well then, young lady, do you have any questions?”
“Not really,” Stacy giggled in anticipation.
Margaret walked through the door with an envelope, obviously from a bank and handed it to Larry smiling. He pocketed the cash and offered a large bathroom for Stacy to change and use the facilities as the noon hour was fast approaching.
Stacy clad herself in a white, button-down sleeveless top, keeping the bottom half unbuttoned and tying it just below her bra line in front, exposing her midriff. The blouse bulged with the round fullness of her ample breasts. She wore what amount to some average make of exercise shorts. Stacy had inherited the family “birthing hips” and would be entirely pear shaped were it not for her bosom. Her naturally curly blonde locks fell about her face and shoulders framing her exceptionally large blue eyes. She wore the white cotton ankle socks that she donned immediately after the toenail polish was dried at the salon, keeping that soft, fresh, warm feeling in her feet from the day’s earlier treatment. The butterflies in her stomach were at fever pitch. Could she endure this? She could not face her housemates I if she didn’t and could not come up with the rent money herself if she did not. So placing her other clothes in her pack she stepped out of the room to begin her ordeal.
Larry greeted her and led her down a hallway and then down a set of stairs to a furnished basement corridor. He turned and opened a door to show a beautifully decorated room inside of which sat a large, overstuffed chair with straps on various parts of it. Stacy was directed to have a seat. Instinctively she sat with her arms on the rests and Larry strapped her immobile with the leather straps over her wrists, upper arms, ankles and mid thighs. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“Comfy?” Larry asked.
Stacy could only nod and giggle unable to keep the smile off her face knowing what was about to happen. She had been tickled as a girl and occasionally by a boyfriend and was well aware that she was obscenely ticklish. The chair was very comfortable however so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
The sound of a large grandfather clock chimed in the distance – obviously the one situated in the foyer upstairs. After twelve chimes it was time to begin. Larry’s wiggling fingers approached Stacy’s bare tummy and her giggling could not be stifled before they even made contact while her head shook back and forth in a last minute plea. When his skilled, smooth fingers met the 18 year old’s soft skin she pulled at her bonds with eyes open wide as saucers squealing with uncontrollable laughter. Larry’s fingers danced and gently poked all about the girl’s ticklish tummy. She danced about best as her bonds would allow wanting to swat those tickly hands away from her sensitive midriff but unable to do so. It would have been more bearable had the tickling remained there. Without warning Stacy felt the experienced fingers of her tickler wander to her bare lap and toward her knees held bent in place. Stacy’s legs had particularly soft skin and the tickling was almost intolerable. She never knew that the spider tickling and gentle squeezes could drive her so far out of her mind. Although she had emptied her bladder just before beginning she worried about peeing her pants, although it was a shame she would surely endure if it guaranteed even a moment’s reprieve from the tickling which seemed to go on forever.
The Grandfather clock eventually struck once and Larry ceased. Had an hour gone by? It seemed to Stacy like a lifetime. She was freed from her bonds and immediately asked for a bathroom toward which she made haste emptying her bladder in a hurry that would have put a racehorse to shame. Having straightened out her outfit and wiped away the remaining tears from her laughter she returned a moment later to nonetheless continue.
“Are you sure you want to continue, dear?” Larry asked.
“I’m sure,” she replied. Stacy felt she had no other choice.
“On to the next then,” Larry replied cheerfully.
Margaret then came down the stairs with some refreshments. Stacy eagerly drank some of the cold lemonade offered hoping that her bladder would hold up through the next round of tickling.
“Well,” Margaret remarked, “it sounds like somebody has a very ticklish tummy!”
Stacy blushed.
Larry recognized the look he received from Margaret. She wanted a turn at tickling Stacy and Larry knew just how his wife liked her girl tummies packaged for tickling. He led Stacy to another room with a large, padded, upright, half-wheel like object sticking out of the ground. The other half was obviously buried along with the axle. It was about 36 inches wide and luxuriously padded with straps in place at various points. It was thick and very sturdy. Once again the room was well furnished with paintings and bookshelves and the like but with this device, made of the same dark wood as the furniture, in the middle of the carpeted, spacious room. Stacy swallowed hard but knew what she must do. Larry restrained her arms above her head at two points as well as her knees and thighs to the while as Stacy stood there her back against the padded device, leaning back. Then Larry unlocked a mechanism and turned the wheel back a bit lifting Stacy off her feet enough to secure her ankles. The wheel he then turned again until Stacy’s was essentially laying horizontally with an arch in her whole body. This made her feel especially vulnerable – more so than the chair.
Margaret walked in and Larry waved goodbye to Stacy as he exited and closed the door. He could hear through the door Margaret say something about a ticklish tummy followed by Stacy’s cackling and squealing, obviously due to the ministrations of Margaret’s well manicured fingernails. He walked back upstairs to have a drink all the while hearing the muffled sounds of the young girl’s howls of laughter as a result of his wife’s ticklish ministrations. These sounds faded off into silence as he reached the main floor of the home. This was the advantage of having soundproofed the basement.
Behind that closed door Margaret approached the giggling girl, outstretched and immobilized on the giant padded wheel. The tickler was grinning broadly with fingers wiggling in the air headed quite obviously for the same target her husband had focused on in his first tickling of the sensitive, curvy blonde.
“I hear we have a ticklish tummy,” Margaret almost sang as Stacy’s head shook back and forth giggling all the while, having no more effect in stopping this tickler that it did her mate.
“Here it comes . . kithcy, kitchy, tickle girl . . . here comes the tickling fingers!” as the ten well manicured tentacles closed in on the helpless tummy set as their target. Stacy pulled at her bonds and squealed wide eyed when Margaret’s fingers finally met their mark, dancing and gently probing and driving the young woman crazy all the while. But Margaret’s love of tummy tickling did not stop any further exploration. She made it a point to count Stacy’s ribs and linger over and over again in gently tickling those smooth, soft armpits which were just shaved clean that morning and were so vulnerably exposed. Stacy did not realize until Margaret showed her that a woman’s hips can be very ticklish spots. Stacy’s hips were round and full, giving her an almost pear shape – a trait all the women in her family had. Perhaps her ticklishness there was part of the same trait, but she had no time to contemplate that as her whole world was filled with the tickling of Margaret’s nimble fingers. Those well manicured nails and superbly soft skin of her fingers combined with not only experience as a tickler but years as a ticklee made Margaret a world class tickler. She was showing her best talents with Stacy and obviously was delighted to do so. This showed in Margaret’s wide grin and occasionally giggling herself as she tickled and tickled and tickled away the helpless, restrained girl.
Stacy, when she got a chance to breathe would spend those breaths begging Margaret to stop. She was considering whether she could tolerate this for the entire time. Larry was a good tickler, a really good tickler actually; but Margaret was lethal. She would have promised virtually anything to Margaret to stop and let her go. She practically passed out but Margaret eventually did stop and led her to a room with a bed and an adjacent bathroom suggesting she take an hour to rest before her next ordeal. Stacy, surprised that her bladder did not empty itself on the tickle wheel, used the bathroom and at once laid down for a nap.
She awoke to Margaret notifying her that it was time to continue. Some ladies from the local book club Margaret belonged to were coming over for dinner. Stacy was told that she was to be the after-dinner entertainment and that the ladies were intrigued with the idea of having a pretty young woman at their disposal to tickle. Larry would have a turn at Stacy in the meanwhile. Margaret, unbeknown to Stacy, only asked that Larry spare her feet for the dinner party. He agreed with the proviso that he have his own chance to tickle the lovely young woman’s feet later.
Stacy was then bound bent over the bed she slept on with her arms outstretched and Larry began to tickle under her outstretched arms. His fingers danced about her ribs causing to let out her characteristic ticklish squeal and squirm about in her bonds. He played those ribs like a piano causing musical begging and laughter to fill the room. When he noticed the soft skin of the back of Stacy’s thick legs was vulnerable, he drew a feather from a drawer and sat on the ground behind the poor girl, tracing the feather up and down the backs of her pretty, soft legs. He would commonly pause to linger in small circles a the backs of her knees. To this squeals and pleas for mercy would ensue, of course to no avail.
Margaret entered to let the pair know that the guests had arrived and that dinner was ready. Stacy was given a satin dressing robe and invited up to dinner. The dinner was outstanding and polite conversation was shared by all at the table. Stacy almost forgot why she was there. All three of the ladies who were visiting seemed nice enough and normal in every way. Stacy could not help but notice, however that each one had well manicured fingernails, some longer than others. Once the dinner was over, Larry offered to clean up while the ladies went on to their book club meeting.
The Ladies were meeting in the sitting room with chairs in a circle surrounding a small coffee table bearing some tea and small, appetizer sized desserts. Across the room, near a lit fireplace was an overstuffed chair with a sturdy appearing wooden implement in front of it. It was made of dark wood and had two small padded holes it the front setting about waist high to the occupant of the chair. Stacy was directed by Margaret to have a seat. Asking about the implement, she was informed that they were an old invention called “stocks”. Once seated and guided to place the ankles of her still socked feet in the holes with the top of the stocks opened it dawned on her what was about to happen. Margaret replaced the top of the stocks and locked them shut.
“Comfy?”, she asked, smiling.
“Sure” Stacy replied. The stocks were well padded and the large chair was well padded as well. Both were large and heavy enough that she was not going anywhere no matter how she struggled. The butterflies in her stomach returned in anticipation of the inevitable.
The Ladies began their discussion as if Stacy was not even present, much to her surprise. But then after a few minutes one of the ladies stood up from her seat and sat herself on the bench in front of the stocks.
“What to we have here?” she mused. Stacy giggled in anticipation. A long painted red fingernail began to trace a path up and down the arch of her right foot.
“Heeeheheeheheheheheeeee, nooohohohohooo, PLEHEEEHEEEASE! Not my feeheeheheheeeeeet!”
But Stacy’s pleadings were to no avail as the woman’s ministrations increased to all out spider tickling all over her right sole. The cotton sock provided only a minimal barrier to the probing fingers of her delighted tickler. Another the sat herself on the other side of the bench inquiring aloud to herself about the other foot, an amused smile across her face. With two sets of manicured hands then dancing all over her socked feet Stacy’s laughter, squirming and squealing increased.
Margaret then interjected “Larry got her an appointment with my pedicurist, you know. Why don’t we take those socks off and see how they did.” Stacy almost panicked. The tickling ceased momentarily as the socks were peeled off her feet, but she was well aware that the tickling was about to get worse.
Stacy had small, wide feet. She wore a size six shoe and her plump, round toes sat one next to the other, wiggling in the cool air of her recently exposed feet. Her toenails were painted a pale pink with white French tips. She was wide eyed as her ticklers eyed her deliciously ticklish little feet.
“This gonna be fun!,” one of the woman grinned as her wiggling fingers approached the giggling girl’s bare arches.
There was no delay in Stacy’s immediate cackling laughter and her second tickler made haste to join in. Nothing in Stacy’s world existed apart from twenty manicured fingers dancing mercilessly over her poor bare feet. There were normally unbearably ticklish but after the manicure, it was ten times worse.
When the women had each taken turns several times with the now pinkened soles of the breathless blonde and said their goodbyes for the night, Larry found his way into the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Hmmm . . I guess we’re alone,” he remarked to the young woman still bound with her bare feet protruding from the stocks. “I wonder what we should do?”
He had no doubt as his smooth, nimble fingers found their way all over every inch of the bound girl’s bare feet producing renewed squealing hysteria. Larry was in ecstasy; this girl was one of the most ticklish yet. The howls of laughter his tickling produced attested to that. Her large bosom bounced all about under her top as she laughed and her curly blonde locks danced about, framing the seemingly permanent wide grin on her angelic face. After a while, her guests having left Margaret joined the two in the sitting room. Not to be denied access to those pretty little peds, Margaret insisted on having a turn of her own before letting young Stacy finally loose. Stacy wondered if she could take any more and was thrilled to get out of those stocks and use the bathroom. The clock only read 9:00 pm – three hours to go.
Stacy wasn’t sure she could last through another three hours of tickling. She had come so close, however and endured so much. She pleaded with Margaret and Larry to let her go sooner. Margaret proposed a deal. Thinking carefully Margaret responded.
“Well, my dear, I will offer you a choice. You can either spend the next three hours back in the stocks and Larry and I will up until the strike of midnight take turns tickling, feathering and nibbling on those cute little feet of yours . . .”
Stacy became lightheaded and nervous at the thought.
“ . . . Or we can bind you downstairs, your hands above your head and tickle you all over for an hour and you’re done. Thing is, if we do that then you need to lose the top, your bra and your shorts. I can see you are wearing thong panties so you can keep those, but keep in mind then that every inch of you is fair game, including those beautiful young boobies of yours.” Margaret seemed to relish the thought.
What kind of a choice was that! Stacy swooned as she thought it over.
“Well, my dear, you can either choose or we can let you think while in the stocks. Unless of course you want to walk away and give up.”
Stacy asked “Okay, where do I get undressed?” She figured one hour of torture was better than three, even if she did get a titty tickling out of it. She just wanted to get it over with.
In another basement room an iron loop was attached solidly to a crossbeam in the ceiling. And several smaller ones were imbedded in the carpet. Stacy stripped down to her pink thong panties exposing her round, full breasts and pale pink nipples. She had thick legs and a round, full bottom with pale soft skin smooth as glass and flawless in its texture. She reached her hands over her head as Larry bound them with padded leather cuffs and secured then with a nylon strap to the ceiling loop. Each of Stacy’s ankles were secured with a similar cuff and attached tightly to iron loops in the floor a little wider apart than shoulder width. At least the carpet was plush and soft on her still bare feet.
“Ready, ticklish girl?” Margaret grinned.
Stacy was frozen in part due to her bondage and in part in anticipation. She knew what Margaret was about to do. Margaret’s nimble fingers began to dance all over Stacy’s curvaceous breasts. Stacy never had been tickled there before and was almost surprised at bursting out in wide-eyed, uncontrolled laughter. The young woman’s bosom bounced and danced much to the delight of her tickler but could not escape her touch even for a moment. Larry sat behind the girl dancing his fingers all over the backs of her legs occasionally tickling her round, full bottom causing it to squirm and shake all about, much to his delight. Margaret’s fingers wandered of course to the exposed tummy, armpits, ribs, hips and neck of her bound victim. Each maneuver was responded to with uncontrolled squeals of laughter and involuntary squirming so much as her bonds would allow. When the two ticklers switched places, Margaret took to lightly dancing her fingers over the tops of Stacy’s bound feet as well as her legs. She lingered much longer than Larry did on the ticklish girls buttocks. These seemed to be one of Stacy’s most ticklish spots of all. This foot tickling drove the poor girl to the brink of insanity almost as much as the woman’s manicured fingers’ merciless teasing of her bare bottom.
Finally, the ten o’clock hour came and Stacy was released and shown to a room to freshen up. Receiving a hug from both of her ticklers and an envelope with the rent cash, she headed home. She had no doubt she would sleep well that night. She was hoping and praying for a long straw next month.
