A little something for the M/M fans—you know who you are. . .
THE DEVIL’S OWN
by
T.T. Gore
“EEEEYAAAA-HAAAA-HAAAA-AAAAH-HAAAA-AAAAH-HAAAA-HAAAA!!!” I shrieked, lifting my bare behind from the mattress and shaking it hard. “AAAH-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!”
“So how about it, Tommy? Do you really, REALLY want to be my special friend?” Michael inquired from his position at the foot of the bed. His mocking tone of voice made me cringe. “Or are you gonna back out on me at the last minute?”
Since I was stark naked, stretched out on his bed with wrists and ankles bound securely to the rails, this struck me as a rhetorical question. I wasn’t going anywhere—except maybe out of my fucking MIND—unless Michael stopped stroking the soles of my FEET—!
But something told me that I wouldn’t be getting a breather any time soon. Sweet, slender, silk-skinned Michael was all too obviously enjoying my squirming struggles. The louder my laughter, the wider his smile. And as I was all too terribly aware, no one would hear my screams and rush in to rescue me. The basement was quite soundproof. I was totally at Michael’s mercy.
And for some crazy reason, I was okay with that.
I’d met Michael a couple of months ago, in the bar of a downtown hotel. Since then, we’d played this game a dozen times, and I knew how it would end. Michael would tickle me, and mock me, and cajole me, and eventually I would break. Yes, in the end Michael always got what he wanted—and if he was feeling generous, I might be rewarded for services rendered. Before meeting sweet Michael I’d have recoiled from the idea of performing fellatio. Doing the nasty with another guy? Please! I wasn’t some fucking FAG, for Christ’s sake!
But when Michael summoned me, I would go to him instantly. And while I was with him, I simply couldn’t say no to him.
Why this was I had absolutely no idea. Somehow he’d come to obsess me. Somehow I could never disobey him—not even when he ordered me to submit to bondage and tickling. And once he had me at his mercy, I discovered how much I HATED—and somehow LOVED—having the living SHIT tickled out of me!
“GAAAAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-HAR!!!” I bellowed now as he caressed my soles with his sharp nails. “HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-AAH-HAR!!!”
“Golly! Whoever would have thought that a muscular STUD like you would be so SENSITIVE!” Michael snickered. “Poor Tommy—you’re all covered with SWEAT and GOOSE bumps!”
“EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!” I shrieked.
“So are you ready to be NICE to me, Tommy?” His fingertips danced over the balls of my feet. “Are you ready down on your hands and KNEES for me, hmmmm?”
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO!!!” I howled as unbearably intense sensations of ticklish torment shot up my trembling legs, straight into my tense balls!
“No? You’re NOT?” Michael chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep tickling your FEET until you change your MIND—!”
But I knew he didn’t really want me to say yes yet, so I continued to hold out against his excruciating assault—even when he began to probe the tender spaces between my wiggling toes with the tip of a LETTER opener!
“OH PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEEEESE!!!” I begged. “YOU’RE KILLING MEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“Aw, come ON, Tommy,” he replied. “A big strong guy like you can take more. A LOT more—!”
The tickling torture continued for a long time, until I was wheezing rather than laughing and shivering rather than struggling. At that point, Michael condescended to grant me a respite. He moved from the foot of the bed to the side and put a hand on my thigh.
“Just relax for a minute,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be a long, LONG night, Tommy, and you’ll need ALL your strength.” His hand moved up and down the length of my thigh. “You know, if you’re an especially good boy, I might even let you CUM this time, Tommy. Would you like that?”
“Omygod YES!” I moaned. Just hearing him SAY it sent a potent thrill through my nerves and made my cock leap to attention!
“Of course, you don’t get to cum until I do—three or four times.” He squeezed my thigh. “Is that all right with YOU, Tommy?”
“Yes!” I cried. “YES! Oh, I’ll do ANYTHING—!”
“That right—you will.” Michael gave me a cold smile. “But have you ever wondered WHY you’ll do anything for me, hmmmm?”
“I don’t KNOW!”
“Is it LOVE, Tommy?”
“Yes! Oh, yes, Michael, I LOVE you!”
“No you don’t.” He patted my thigh. “In fact, if you ever thought about it, you’d realize that you HATE me for what I’ve done to you.”
“What—what—?” I stammered.
“I tie you UP, Tommy. I TICKLE you until you’re pink and sweating. Sometimes I SPANK you.” He ran his fingers through my dark chest hair. “I make you MASTURBATE while I watch. I make you BEG to suck my COCK. Really, how could you love someone who so HUMILIATES you, hmmmm?”
When he put it that way, I could see what he meant.
“And you let me do it, Tommy,” he whispered. “You let me treat you like DIRT. And when I snap my fingers, you come CRAWLING to me. Why?”
“I don’t KNOW!”
“And how come you’re so terribly TICKLISH, Tommy, hmmmm? Have you ALWAYS been this ticklish?”
“Yes—no—oh, I don’t KNOW!”
“Well,” he said, “there’s really no need for you to know. On the other hand, it’ll make no difference if you DO know.” His hand continued to caress my heaving chest. “You see, Tommy, I’ve cast a spell over you.”
“What?!” I gulped. “What do you MEAN!?”
“I mean just what I said. You’re under the influence of a spell. An obsession spell, as it’s called.” Michael’s hazel eyes sparkled with evil merriment. “When I activate it, you come running to me just as quickly as your legs can carry you. And for as long as it’s active, you’ll do anything I say.”
“You’re CRAZY!” I screamed, making a convulsive effort to wiggle out of my bonds.
“Am I?” Michael laughed. “If I’m crazy, how come you’re my naked tickle slave? Well, I’ll tell you, Tommy. It’s because I gave my soul to the Master—and HE gave YOU to ME!”
“The M-m-master?” I gulped.
“Oh, I think you know who I mean,” Michael replied as he toyed with my chest hair. “Thanks to the Master, I can own anybody I want.” He chuckled. “You, for example.”
“Ohmygod!” I screamed. “Ohmygod HELP me somebody! ANYBODY! Help! HELP!”
“Quiet, Tommy,” Michael commanded. His hand slipped down my torso to grip my rigid joystick—and I writhed madly as an incredibly potent thrill of absolute DELIGHT rocketed through my body! “Quiet, or I’ll have to send you away.”
“No!” I blubbered. “Oh NO! You CAN’T! Please! I’ll be good! I’ll do ANYTHING!”
“That’s right, Tommy. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” He released my cock and resumed toying with my chest hair. “And right now, you’re going to LAUGH for me!”
“No!” I screamed. “Wait! Stop! I told you I’d do ANYTHEEEEEE-HIIIIEEEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
He had begun to tickle the backs of my KNEES—and it was driving me out of my fucking MIND! I wiggled and squirmed and bounced my behind on the mattress. I begged and pleaded for mercy. And oh! how I LONGED for sweet, evil Michael to caress my rock-hard, quivering MANMEAT—!
“Want me to STOP, Tommy?” he whispered. “No, of course you don’t. You HATE being tickled pink—but you LOVE it too, isn’t that right? You love it because it’s ME tickling you. You love being my PLAYTHING. You love being my SLAVE—!”
Oh, how I hated Michael at that moment! I hated him because he was right—because my hatred didn’t matter in the slightest—because I knew that I would do absolutely ANYTHING he commanded me to do. To disobey him was literally unthinkable—when I tried to imagine myself saying no to Michael, my guts churned with a sensation of pure, unadulterated horror!
It was this more than anything that convinced me of the truth of his seemingly outlandish claim. Something strange and terrible MUST have been done to me. My God, I wasn’t gay and I’d never even been bi curious! But I KNEW, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that whatever he demanded, no matter how humiliating, disgusting or painful it might prove to be, I would DO it.
And I would LOVE doing it.
All this ran through my mind as I shrieked and struggled in the throes of an indescribably hilarious anguish that was far too intense to be natural. The spell or whatever it was has not only made me Michael’s slave, it had somehow increased my ticklish sensitivity to a level that was well-neigh UNBEARABLE—!
“Poor ticklish Tommy,” Michael cooed as his hands slipped lower to stroke the backs of my calves. “Your face is all PINK—and you’re getting GOOSE bumps. Mmmm, I like how the hairs on your LEGS stick up—that is SO sexy! And I love the way your belly gets all TENSE when you’re laughing really HARD. And your belly isn’t the ONLY part of you that’s all tense, is it?”
“EEEEEEYAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AA-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” I screeched, arching my back and gyrating my hips as if to confirm his snide little observation. For in fact I had the erection of a LIFETIME and felt that I might CUM at any fucking SECOND! Each laughter-inducted convulsion of my muscles squeezed out a tiny drop of pre-cum that trickled down my shaft. I was oh! so fucking CLOSE—yet strain as I might, I couldn’t quite DO it! I needed Michael to CARESS my yearning cock—but instead he just kept tickling and tickling and fucking TICKLING me—!
“Poor Tommy!” Michael snickered. “You want to CUM, don’t you? But all you can do is LAUGH!”
“OH-HO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!” I bellowed, shivering violently as Michael’s fingers scampered to and fro. Between the horrific laughter that shook me and the frustrated lust that gripped my loins, I was going out of my fucking SKULL!
“Don’t worry about that,” Michael whispered, seeming to read my mind. “You’re not ALLOWED to go insane—the spell won’t let you. No, Tommy, there no escape for you, I’m afraid. . .”
He tickled me that night until my laughter faded to a desperate wheeze and my struggles dwindled to an ineffectual trembling. “This is what I REALLY like,” he said at one point as he straddled my hips and leaned forward to stroke my defenseless armpits. “Reducing a handsome, masculine guy like you to a state of abject sexual submission. Oh, with the spell on you, you’d obey me in any case—but I LIKE to tickle before I take what I want. . .”
And before that long and exhausting night was over, Michael DID take what he wanted. I can’t say I enjoyed it, exactly, but I really had no choice in the matter. All he had to do was casually suggest some dirty little variation, and I would scramble to perform it. At the slightest hint of his displeasure, I would redouble my efforts to please him, terrified by the possibility that he that he might replace me with some other slave. And the more humiliating his perverted, kinky games were for me, the more he appeared to enjoy them.
I was lucky that night, for he eventually permitted me to masturbate in a kneeling position while he critiqued my technique. I achieved orgasm all too quickly, and Michael made me clean up the resulting mess.
After this final, delicious humiliation, Michael sent me on my way with a hard slap to my bare behind. The pain made me squirm with a kind of perverse pleasure, and wish for more. I think Michael sensed my desire, but on this particular occasion he did not grant me the great favor of an erotic spanking.
“I’ll be in touch,” he assured me as I climbed hastily into my clothes. “By the time you get home tonight, the spell will have become dormant. That is to say, Tommy, you’ll no longer be experiencing the emotions that you’re feeling now. But don’t get any smart ideas. If you try to make trouble for me, I’ll activate the spell again—and KEEP it active. Maybe forever. So you’d better be a good boy until I summon you again.”
“Yes,” I whimpered. “All right.”
“Fine. On your way, then, Tommy.” Michael, who was still naked, gave me a big smile. “We’ll be seeing one another again. Real soon. That’s a promise.”
And just as he said, by the time I got back to my apartment the powerful, irresistible emotions that bound me to Michael’s will had evaporated. I cringed at the memory of the things he’d made me do. A long hot shower and a couple of drinks failed to wipe away the terrible memories. And when finally I was naked in bed between clean, cool sheets, I found myself longing for Michael’s next summons. Now that I’d tasted the satanic pleasures he purveyed, there would be no further need of spells.
For the second time that night, I masturbated. And all the while, visions of tickling danced in my head.
THE DEVIL’S OWN
by
T.T. Gore
“EEEEYAAAA-HAAAA-HAAAA-AAAAH-HAAAA-AAAAH-HAAAA-HAAAA!!!” I shrieked, lifting my bare behind from the mattress and shaking it hard. “AAAH-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!”
“So how about it, Tommy? Do you really, REALLY want to be my special friend?” Michael inquired from his position at the foot of the bed. His mocking tone of voice made me cringe. “Or are you gonna back out on me at the last minute?”
Since I was stark naked, stretched out on his bed with wrists and ankles bound securely to the rails, this struck me as a rhetorical question. I wasn’t going anywhere—except maybe out of my fucking MIND—unless Michael stopped stroking the soles of my FEET—!
But something told me that I wouldn’t be getting a breather any time soon. Sweet, slender, silk-skinned Michael was all too obviously enjoying my squirming struggles. The louder my laughter, the wider his smile. And as I was all too terribly aware, no one would hear my screams and rush in to rescue me. The basement was quite soundproof. I was totally at Michael’s mercy.
And for some crazy reason, I was okay with that.
I’d met Michael a couple of months ago, in the bar of a downtown hotel. Since then, we’d played this game a dozen times, and I knew how it would end. Michael would tickle me, and mock me, and cajole me, and eventually I would break. Yes, in the end Michael always got what he wanted—and if he was feeling generous, I might be rewarded for services rendered. Before meeting sweet Michael I’d have recoiled from the idea of performing fellatio. Doing the nasty with another guy? Please! I wasn’t some fucking FAG, for Christ’s sake!
But when Michael summoned me, I would go to him instantly. And while I was with him, I simply couldn’t say no to him.
Why this was I had absolutely no idea. Somehow he’d come to obsess me. Somehow I could never disobey him—not even when he ordered me to submit to bondage and tickling. And once he had me at his mercy, I discovered how much I HATED—and somehow LOVED—having the living SHIT tickled out of me!
“GAAAAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-HAR!!!” I bellowed now as he caressed my soles with his sharp nails. “HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-AAH-HAR!!!”
“Golly! Whoever would have thought that a muscular STUD like you would be so SENSITIVE!” Michael snickered. “Poor Tommy—you’re all covered with SWEAT and GOOSE bumps!”
“EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!” I shrieked.
“So are you ready to be NICE to me, Tommy?” His fingertips danced over the balls of my feet. “Are you ready down on your hands and KNEES for me, hmmmm?”
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO!!!” I howled as unbearably intense sensations of ticklish torment shot up my trembling legs, straight into my tense balls!
“No? You’re NOT?” Michael chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep tickling your FEET until you change your MIND—!”
But I knew he didn’t really want me to say yes yet, so I continued to hold out against his excruciating assault—even when he began to probe the tender spaces between my wiggling toes with the tip of a LETTER opener!
“OH PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEEEESE!!!” I begged. “YOU’RE KILLING MEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“Aw, come ON, Tommy,” he replied. “A big strong guy like you can take more. A LOT more—!”
The tickling torture continued for a long time, until I was wheezing rather than laughing and shivering rather than struggling. At that point, Michael condescended to grant me a respite. He moved from the foot of the bed to the side and put a hand on my thigh.
“Just relax for a minute,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be a long, LONG night, Tommy, and you’ll need ALL your strength.” His hand moved up and down the length of my thigh. “You know, if you’re an especially good boy, I might even let you CUM this time, Tommy. Would you like that?”
“Omygod YES!” I moaned. Just hearing him SAY it sent a potent thrill through my nerves and made my cock leap to attention!
“Of course, you don’t get to cum until I do—three or four times.” He squeezed my thigh. “Is that all right with YOU, Tommy?”
“Yes!” I cried. “YES! Oh, I’ll do ANYTHING—!”
“That right—you will.” Michael gave me a cold smile. “But have you ever wondered WHY you’ll do anything for me, hmmmm?”
“I don’t KNOW!”
“Is it LOVE, Tommy?”
“Yes! Oh, yes, Michael, I LOVE you!”
“No you don’t.” He patted my thigh. “In fact, if you ever thought about it, you’d realize that you HATE me for what I’ve done to you.”
“What—what—?” I stammered.
“I tie you UP, Tommy. I TICKLE you until you’re pink and sweating. Sometimes I SPANK you.” He ran his fingers through my dark chest hair. “I make you MASTURBATE while I watch. I make you BEG to suck my COCK. Really, how could you love someone who so HUMILIATES you, hmmmm?”
When he put it that way, I could see what he meant.
“And you let me do it, Tommy,” he whispered. “You let me treat you like DIRT. And when I snap my fingers, you come CRAWLING to me. Why?”
“I don’t KNOW!”
“And how come you’re so terribly TICKLISH, Tommy, hmmmm? Have you ALWAYS been this ticklish?”
“Yes—no—oh, I don’t KNOW!”
“Well,” he said, “there’s really no need for you to know. On the other hand, it’ll make no difference if you DO know.” His hand continued to caress my heaving chest. “You see, Tommy, I’ve cast a spell over you.”
“What?!” I gulped. “What do you MEAN!?”
“I mean just what I said. You’re under the influence of a spell. An obsession spell, as it’s called.” Michael’s hazel eyes sparkled with evil merriment. “When I activate it, you come running to me just as quickly as your legs can carry you. And for as long as it’s active, you’ll do anything I say.”
“You’re CRAZY!” I screamed, making a convulsive effort to wiggle out of my bonds.
“Am I?” Michael laughed. “If I’m crazy, how come you’re my naked tickle slave? Well, I’ll tell you, Tommy. It’s because I gave my soul to the Master—and HE gave YOU to ME!”
“The M-m-master?” I gulped.
“Oh, I think you know who I mean,” Michael replied as he toyed with my chest hair. “Thanks to the Master, I can own anybody I want.” He chuckled. “You, for example.”
“Ohmygod!” I screamed. “Ohmygod HELP me somebody! ANYBODY! Help! HELP!”
“Quiet, Tommy,” Michael commanded. His hand slipped down my torso to grip my rigid joystick—and I writhed madly as an incredibly potent thrill of absolute DELIGHT rocketed through my body! “Quiet, or I’ll have to send you away.”
“No!” I blubbered. “Oh NO! You CAN’T! Please! I’ll be good! I’ll do ANYTHING!”
“That’s right, Tommy. You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” He released my cock and resumed toying with my chest hair. “And right now, you’re going to LAUGH for me!”
“No!” I screamed. “Wait! Stop! I told you I’d do ANYTHEEEEEE-HIIIIEEEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
He had begun to tickle the backs of my KNEES—and it was driving me out of my fucking MIND! I wiggled and squirmed and bounced my behind on the mattress. I begged and pleaded for mercy. And oh! how I LONGED for sweet, evil Michael to caress my rock-hard, quivering MANMEAT—!
“Want me to STOP, Tommy?” he whispered. “No, of course you don’t. You HATE being tickled pink—but you LOVE it too, isn’t that right? You love it because it’s ME tickling you. You love being my PLAYTHING. You love being my SLAVE—!”
Oh, how I hated Michael at that moment! I hated him because he was right—because my hatred didn’t matter in the slightest—because I knew that I would do absolutely ANYTHING he commanded me to do. To disobey him was literally unthinkable—when I tried to imagine myself saying no to Michael, my guts churned with a sensation of pure, unadulterated horror!
It was this more than anything that convinced me of the truth of his seemingly outlandish claim. Something strange and terrible MUST have been done to me. My God, I wasn’t gay and I’d never even been bi curious! But I KNEW, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that whatever he demanded, no matter how humiliating, disgusting or painful it might prove to be, I would DO it.
And I would LOVE doing it.
All this ran through my mind as I shrieked and struggled in the throes of an indescribably hilarious anguish that was far too intense to be natural. The spell or whatever it was has not only made me Michael’s slave, it had somehow increased my ticklish sensitivity to a level that was well-neigh UNBEARABLE—!
“Poor ticklish Tommy,” Michael cooed as his hands slipped lower to stroke the backs of my calves. “Your face is all PINK—and you’re getting GOOSE bumps. Mmmm, I like how the hairs on your LEGS stick up—that is SO sexy! And I love the way your belly gets all TENSE when you’re laughing really HARD. And your belly isn’t the ONLY part of you that’s all tense, is it?”
“EEEEEEYAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AA-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” I screeched, arching my back and gyrating my hips as if to confirm his snide little observation. For in fact I had the erection of a LIFETIME and felt that I might CUM at any fucking SECOND! Each laughter-inducted convulsion of my muscles squeezed out a tiny drop of pre-cum that trickled down my shaft. I was oh! so fucking CLOSE—yet strain as I might, I couldn’t quite DO it! I needed Michael to CARESS my yearning cock—but instead he just kept tickling and tickling and fucking TICKLING me—!
“Poor Tommy!” Michael snickered. “You want to CUM, don’t you? But all you can do is LAUGH!”
“OH-HO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!” I bellowed, shivering violently as Michael’s fingers scampered to and fro. Between the horrific laughter that shook me and the frustrated lust that gripped my loins, I was going out of my fucking SKULL!
“Don’t worry about that,” Michael whispered, seeming to read my mind. “You’re not ALLOWED to go insane—the spell won’t let you. No, Tommy, there no escape for you, I’m afraid. . .”
He tickled me that night until my laughter faded to a desperate wheeze and my struggles dwindled to an ineffectual trembling. “This is what I REALLY like,” he said at one point as he straddled my hips and leaned forward to stroke my defenseless armpits. “Reducing a handsome, masculine guy like you to a state of abject sexual submission. Oh, with the spell on you, you’d obey me in any case—but I LIKE to tickle before I take what I want. . .”
And before that long and exhausting night was over, Michael DID take what he wanted. I can’t say I enjoyed it, exactly, but I really had no choice in the matter. All he had to do was casually suggest some dirty little variation, and I would scramble to perform it. At the slightest hint of his displeasure, I would redouble my efforts to please him, terrified by the possibility that he that he might replace me with some other slave. And the more humiliating his perverted, kinky games were for me, the more he appeared to enjoy them.
I was lucky that night, for he eventually permitted me to masturbate in a kneeling position while he critiqued my technique. I achieved orgasm all too quickly, and Michael made me clean up the resulting mess.
After this final, delicious humiliation, Michael sent me on my way with a hard slap to my bare behind. The pain made me squirm with a kind of perverse pleasure, and wish for more. I think Michael sensed my desire, but on this particular occasion he did not grant me the great favor of an erotic spanking.
“I’ll be in touch,” he assured me as I climbed hastily into my clothes. “By the time you get home tonight, the spell will have become dormant. That is to say, Tommy, you’ll no longer be experiencing the emotions that you’re feeling now. But don’t get any smart ideas. If you try to make trouble for me, I’ll activate the spell again—and KEEP it active. Maybe forever. So you’d better be a good boy until I summon you again.”
“Yes,” I whimpered. “All right.”
“Fine. On your way, then, Tommy.” Michael, who was still naked, gave me a big smile. “We’ll be seeing one another again. Real soon. That’s a promise.”
And just as he said, by the time I got back to my apartment the powerful, irresistible emotions that bound me to Michael’s will had evaporated. I cringed at the memory of the things he’d made me do. A long hot shower and a couple of drinks failed to wipe away the terrible memories. And when finally I was naked in bed between clean, cool sheets, I found myself longing for Michael’s next summons. Now that I’d tasted the satanic pleasures he purveyed, there would be no further need of spells.
For the second time that night, I masturbated. And all the while, visions of tickling danced in my head.
