Naughty Feather
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Title: From Head to Toe
Author: Naughty Feather
Email: [email protected]
Content: F/M tickling, sexual content
Feedback: Yes, please (if it’s kind)!
Author’s Note: I originally wrote this short story for the F/M tickling website, The Hidden Rose Garden. Unfortunately, the site seems to have vanished. So, I thought I would share the story with the audience of this forum. I realize F/M tickling fiction is not everyone’s cup of tea, so if you are not into it, please pass this one by. For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy the tickle literature I’ve written. And please note that it is fictional, not autobiographical.
Daniel Troy was a good friend of mine. He was an internist at St. Vincent’s. He was kind, sweet and more than a little attractive. In fact, his hazel eyes had been known to make grown women forget what they were about to say. On the surface, Daniel seemed like ideal husband or boyfriend material, but I could never have dated him. I enjoyed him as a friend, but he wasn’t really my type. Also, he was forbidden fruit; my best girlfriend, Anna, had already dated him. That’s how I met Daniel in the first place. Of course, trying to explain to your grandchild-starved mother why you wouldn’t go after a cute, available doctor because of a “no ex-boyfriends” pact you and your best friend made at the age of fourteen was a pretty tough sell. “They haven’t been going out for months!” She screeched in exasperation.
I had laughed indulgently and said that there was no statute of limitations on the ex-boyfriends pact. In truth, I really believed that. They hadn’t just gone out a few times, they had a serious relationship for over a year. Going to Daniel after Anna had been with him would have just felt nasty to me, like trying to get clean in someone’s used bathwater.
But, that didn’t mean I didn’t start thinking about him. You always want what you can’t have, even if you don’t really want it.
Anna had gone out to California for a few weeks to attend a writing workshop. Since her breakup with Daniel had not been acrimonious, he was “allowed” to remain in our little circle of friends. While she was away, I saw him quite frequently whenever a bunch of us decided to go out to dinner.
One night, we were all piled into one of the leather banquettes of a new pub restaurant that had just opened up, laughing and jostling one another for enough room. Daniel and I ended up right next to each other, sides pressed together like Siamese twins. When the waitress set down the tray with our drinks, I felt Daniel shiver next to me. His reaction was so extreme the tremor went out of his body and straight into mine. I turned to look at him. I followed his stare down to the table, where the waitress had her palms pressed flat. Her nails were very long and lacquered with a deep, rich, red polish. I felt Daniel shudder again as she gently tapped the point of one fingernail against the grain of the wood, impatient that my friend Winn had changed his mind about his entrée order five times.
My curiosity was piqued and my radar instantly went up. “What’s the matter? “ I whispered to Daniel in a conspiratorial fashion. “Are her hands dirty or something?”
Daniel was still staring at the young woman’s hands; he seemed transfixed. “Um, no, it’s just those nails! They’re so long! Women don’t usually wear them that long anymore. Can you imagine those nails on your skin? It’d be like having ten little needles or little hooks going into you.”
My mouth began to water, but I played it cool. “Oh, they look imposing, but I bet you probably wouldn’t even feel them.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Believe me, I would.”
“Aw, sensitive guy, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, everybody loves a sensitive man,” I replied.
Daniel came out of his reverie and went back to studying the menu. “Does the burger with cheddar and onions sound good to you? I think I might have that.”
I murmured some vague response in favor of the aforementioned burger while all the time bells and whistles and flashing lights were going off in my head like a pinball machine that just hit the high score.
We have a winner, I thought to myself, salivating from more than the prospect of dinner. The boy is definitely ticklish.
Oh, yes, I wanted Daniel now. I most assuredly did. I didn’t intend to keep him, but I had to have him.
The next day, during a lazy Saturday afternoon, I was sprawled out on the long window seat in my apartment, comfy in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. My mind, however, was churning like the pistons of a racecar. I was trying to think of what Machiavellian plot would put Daniel into my waiting clutches.
I snuggled down among the pillows as I thought about the revelations of the night before at dinner. After Daniel’s reaction to the waitress, I was determined to find out how much of a “sensitive guy” he really was. At the end of the night, when the whole group of us gathered near the restaurant’s entryway, sorting out our jackets from the rather overwhelmed coat-check girl, I decided I had a good cover to make my move. Pretending to fumble with my coat as I tried to get the material over my arm, I made myself stumble into Daniel and ran my thumb firmly down his side several inches. Underneath his well-muscled torso, I could feel both the outline of his ribs and the hollow depressions between his rib-bones. At my touch, Daniel’s face instantly split into a wide, childish grin and I heard a soft giggle escape his lips. I muttered darkly about getting my stupid coat tangled up, acting as if I hadn’t tickled him at all, or as if I didn’t know that I had. Daniel also pretended it didn’t happen and simply helped me on with my coat.
I had been replaying that grin and that giggle in my mind over and over again since leaving the restaurant.
It was then that I realized why I had been increasingly drawn to Daniel. He was a handsome man, but I was mainly attracted to his laugh. Some men have high-pitched laughs, even though their speaking voices are relatively deep. In some cases, the sound is really annoying; the laugh just sounds very affected and somewhat fey. In other men, though, there is no more adorable sound. Daniel’s laugh was like that. It was pure and clear and completely un-self-conscious, like a child’s laughter. Daniel laughed like he was being tickled every time he laughed, even if he was just laughing at a joke or something on TV.
I longed, I needed, to hear that sound again. Not only that, I wanted to know how Daniel sounded when he was pushed to the extreme, way past the limits of what he thought his body could tolerate. Would his laugh reach higher and higher octaves until he shook with silent laughter or would his laughter get deeper and more bass as he got really tickled?
I thought back to what Anna said when she came over to tell me she had finally decided to call it quits with Daniel. We had an all-night, girlfriend sob-session on my couch, surrounded by enough Chinese food to impress a Mandarin emperor. Daniel, Anna complained, was entirely too passive for her to build a long-term relationship with. I raised my eyebrow silently at this because Anna, though a wonderful woman of many talents and qualities, was pretty bossy in her relationships (in fact, one of her college exes said that he got sick of her “mothering” him), so I was a little surprised that Anna disliked this trait in Daniel. I probed her further as to what upset her so much about this. “It’s not that it bothers me,” she asserted, swirling her chopsticks into a white paper carton, “I mean, I don’t mind organizing things. It’s the fact that he won’t be open about it.”
I expressed confusion.
“Daniel wants to be passive, but there has to be some reason for him to allow himself to be passive, or he can’t give himself ‘permission’ to be that way. And, of course, that’s when he would always turn around and snap at me, like everything was my fault.”
I was, quite frankly, still in the dark. “Can you give me some examples?”
“Well, say you mentioned to him that all of his socks were so frayed, they looked like he’d been through a war. He’d just ignore you and keep wearing them until they fell off his feet. So, you get tired of tripping over sad little tatters of cloth on the floor of the apartment and you swing by the store and buy him new socks. He would look at you coldly and inform you that he already has a mother.”
“Anna, don’t bite my head off here, but some people would ask why you were buying a grown man his socks.”
My friend shook her head vehemently. “No, the question is why isn’t that supposedly grown man buying his own socks? But, you see, if you were to give him a year’s supply of socks as a birthday present, he would just thank you and trot off happily to wear them.”
“Okay, you don’t think that a birthday present is different?”
“Oh, come one. Socks are not birthday gifts and everyone knows it. That’s so lame. You wouldn’t even give socks to a boss you hated.”
As I gave Anna my “whatever” face and bit into my spring roll, she suddenly grabbed my arm. “Ooh, I have a much better example! One night, he was supposed to be making us some hot cocoa, but he was so engrossed in watching the game that he wasn’t paying attention to the stove. The pot boiled over and was totally scorched; it took three days of soaking it in cold water to get the burnt milk out. I had just bought that pan and I was furious. But rather than screaming at him, I pushed him over the back of the couch and started whacking his butt, telling him he needed a good spanking for not paying attention. I was just joking around, but after about the fifth smack, he let out this incredible, deep moan….”
“He liked it?”
Anna threw back her curly head and laughed. “He was saluting the flag, girlfriend! I’ve never seen him get so hard so quickly before! So I thought, what the heck, I’ll play along if he likes it, and I started really wailing on him. By the end, I had him completely naked. He was standing up on his toes from the stinging pain and the muscles in his arms were all knotted up. There were tears coming from his eyes and he was holding on to the back of the sofa for dear life, but he didn’t tell me to stop. I felt like I had broken all the bones in my hand, but I couldn’t stop either. I was just as caught up in it as he was. Then, I grabbed him under his balls and spanked him at the same time and he completely lost it. One of the most powerful ejaculations I have ever seen in my life.”
I was more than a little intrigued by hearing this story but I couldn’t let that show. “First of all, I can’t believe you didn’t get that job writing for “Sex and the City”; you’re a natural. But, I fail to see the point you’re trying to make about Daniel. A lot of guys like a good smack on the butt. I mean, what’s a little spanking between lovers?”
“Yeah, but see, that’s just the point. I tried to repeat our little performance a few nights later and he shut down on me again, gave me that cold look.”
“Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood then.”
Anna rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. “You know, you can be surprisingly obtuse for such a smart woman. It wasn’t a question of his mood. It was a question of the permission issue I mentioned before. See, he let me do it before because he ruined the pot…because he deserved it, because he was being punished. But he can’t bring himself to enjoy something he obviously enjoys out in the open, all on its own, just because he enjoys it.”
I summed up. “So, what you’re saying is that Daniel needs some excuse or cover story to allow himself to take a passive role, to save face, or he won’t permit himself to be in a passive position in the first place, let alone enjoy it.”
Anna gave me a knowing look. “Yup. That’s about the size of it. And it’s so emotionally dishonest. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason Anna had decided to stop seeing Daniel. They had many fundamental differences that had been obvious from the very beginning of their relationship, but the cracks just didn’t form until later.
I continued to mull over that part of the conversation from that night. Even if Anna was exaggerating somewhat, it was clear it would take a delicate touch (no pun intended), to maneuver Daniel where I wanted him. He wouldn’t respond well if I came right out and just asked him to let me tickle him. Not that I would. I consider myself a very forthright person, but I’m also a big believer in not messing where you eat. I wasn’t especially keen on having my circle of closest friends know that much about my personal tastes.
Just then, my ginger-striped cat, Geronimo, came waddling in from the bedroom. She had obviously decided that I spent enough time pursuing the contemplative life; it was time for her to be the center of attention again. She butted my outstretched hand repeatedly with her head and meowed. I rubbed her between the ears for a moment, and then my spine suddenly stiffened as inspiration struck. I smiled widely and looked down at Geronimo.
I would bait my ‘mousetrap’ for Daniel with a cat.
A few days later, I stood in the middle of my apartment with a small suitcase by my side and a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Daniel was standing in front of me with his hands stuffed casually in his pockets.
I had gang-pressed Daniel into service. He would stay in my apartment and babysit Geronimo while I went away on a three-day weekend. Truth be told, he didn’t take much convincing. Since breaking up with Anna and moving out of their loft, Daniel shared a place with two roommates who had been fraternity buddies of his in college. He was looking for his own place, but finding a good place in New York isn’t easy, and he didn’t have a nice aunt in the apartment real estate business, like I did. He was only too happy to spend a few days in a spacious, single apartment and get a little peace and quiet.
I made a mental note to send Aunt Joan a large bouquet of flowers for her next birthday.
Daniel looked at me with an amused expression on his face. “Honestly, you treat that cat like a regular baby. Stop fretting so much. You’ve already told me what brand of cat food she likes, what brand of cat litter she likes and where all the cat toys are, and I’ve written it all down. She’ll be fine with me, you know. I am a doctor. Shouldn’t you get going? You’ll miss your train.”
I’m against lying, especially when a deftly manipulated truth will do. I told Daniel I was going to a spa for a long weekend, and that really was the truth. But I had also led him to believe (without actually saying it of course), that I was going out of town. In fact, I had booked reservations at a lovely hotel right in the city that had a spa in it. I wouldn’t be out of the city at all, but it was crucial to my overall plan that Daniel think I would be.
“ I know you’re a doctor, but you’re not a vet. I’m not afraid of her getting sick, though. It’s what I said about the window. Do you remember what I said about the window?”
Daniel nodded towards the glass right over the window seat. “The latch on that window is shaky and she can unfasten it and get out onto the fire escape if it isn’t locked securely.”
I gave a little laugh and a shrug. “I don’t know how she figured out how to undo the blessed thing in the first place; she’s like a little Houdini. The last time she got out, she roamed around the neighborhood and didn’t come back for almost two days. I was really frantic.”
Daniel put his hand on my shoulder, and I tried to ignore the fact that his hand felt good. “I promise I will keep it shut and locked. Okay?”
“I know. I’m sorry to be such a ‘nervous mom’, but I’ve never been away from her since I got her as a kitten. If something were to happen to her, I’d die.”
“If she gets out – and she won’t – I will personally scour the streets until I find her, come rain, sleet or snow.”
I looked him square in the eye. “Oh, you’ll pay a higher penalty than that, brother. You’ll suffer the tortures of the damned if anything happens to her. And I’ll carry out your punishment with my own two hands. Agreed?”
He gave me an exasperated look. “Yeah, yeah. Agreed. Now, will you go?”
Daniel gently pushed me out the front door and onto the elevator. Once the doors shut, I allowed myself a wide, evil grin.
The trap had been set.
I spent the first two days in the hotel, letting myself get pampered and massaged, ordering luxurious meals from room service and popping open $12 cans of cashew nuts from the mini-bar. I was having the time of my life because I really did need a vacation. I didn’t even think of either Daniel or Geronimo. On the third day, however, I got back down to business.
I knew Daniel would either go jogging or go off to his health club for a workout early in the morning, and he didn’t disappoint me. Hiding behind sunglasses, a magazine and a cup of coffee like a genuine spy, I positioned myself where I could see the entrance of my building. I saw Daniel leave and head north, towards his health club. Then, although patience is against my nature, I waited ten more minutes to be sure he didn’t double back for something.
I approached my building and crossed the street, my finger pressing the dial button of my cell phone. I saw my doorman turn from his post and walk into the back room. The number I had dialed was for the building office. I slipped past without him seeing me and climbed onto the waiting elevator.
As the doors closed, I grasped the railing of the elevator car and only then realized that I had been holding my breath the whole time. I was bathed in a layer of cold sweat and I was panting, but I also felt exhilarated and almost light-headed. I hadn’t been this excited in a long time.
I let myself into my apartment and peered around my own house as if I were a stranger.
The place looked exactly the same. Daniel had been nice and neat. Only a cereal bowl drying in the dish rack and a t-shirt draped over the back of a chair attested to his presence at all. I went over to the window in question and pried it open. It was no easy feat; Daniel had, as he’d promised, made sure the window was securely fastened.
Aw, I bit my lip. That’s so sweet, what a nice guy. I almost had misgivings about the con game I was trying to run on him, but I crept up behind my guilty conscience and beat it to death with a lead pipe. I was having too much fun already.
I slipped a hand into my pocket and retrieved an envelope full of cat hair that I had previously gathered from Geronimo’s cat comb. I flung the orange fur over the cushions and over the top of the window. For a last, authentic touch, I wedged some of the fur between the bars of the fire escape outside. I scooped up Geronimo and nestled her down into my empty duffel bag. She growled in protest as I closed the zipper over her head.
On the elevator, I made another call to the building’s management office. As I hurried through the lobby, I could hear the angry tones of my doorman, repeatedly asking if anyone was there on the line. I sprinted through the front doors and didn’t slow my pace until I was a good two blocks away. Then I hailed a cab from the corner, and gave the driver the address of one of the finest pet groomers in New York. After all, I reasoned, if I deserved a spa vacation, Geronimo certainly deserved one too.
I unzipped a corner of the duffel bag and Geronimo poked an angry head out. “Don’t worry,” I cooed to the cat. “You’re going to get shampooed and pampered and then you’ll be all nice and clean. And I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow. In the meantime, Mama’s going to have a little fun….”
The trap had been sprung.
When I came back to my apartment, suitcases in tow, for my ‘official’ return from vacation, it was late afternoon. I found Daniel sitting at my kitchen table, with his chin in his hand, staring listlessly into space. On the table in front of him were binoculars and a high-powered flashlight. He turned to look at me with such a pained and leaden expression that I instantly felt a stab of guilt in my gut. When he finally spoke, he lifted his eyes towards the ceiling, unable to look at me directly. “Geronimo got out,” he said, his voice devoid of expression as if he were in shock. “I don’t know…I don’t know how it happened. She got out through the window. I’ve been looking for her all afternoon.”
I felt like an A-1 heel. But, to paraphrase MacBeth, I’d gone too far to back out of the charade now. I dropped my bags and acted panicked. “Oh, no! Are you sure? Geronimo, come here, baby! Maybe she’s just hiding somewhere in here. She does that when she gets cross.”
“I’ve looked,” Daniel replied, shaking his head wearily. “I’ve looked everywhere, believe me. She’s not in the house. Besides, that window was not open when I went out this morning. It was the last thing I checked before I locked the door. She definitely got out.”
I sat down on the window seat and bit into my thumb. I was trying not to let guilt and hesitation overtake me, but Daniel, of course, mistook it for misery. “Look, it’ll be alright. I promise. I know -- I also promised she wouldn’t get out in the first place. But, I swear I’ll rectify the situation. It’s getting dark out, but with the flashlight, I can go back out and look again. Also, I left a voice mail message for my roommates. When they get home from work, they’ll come over and help look too. We’ll find her.”
My mind leaped in fear. The last thing I wanted was to involve more people in this farce. Besides, I needed Daniel alone. “Call them back and tell them not to come,” I encouraged. “There’s another way to get Geronimo home.”
Daniel looked confused. “How?”
“She just gets out to assert her independence, she never strays very far from home. She’s too frightened of strangers and traffic. If we can lure her back inside with a treat, she’ll come home a lot quicker.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Well, she likes shredded lobster because, obviously, she doesn’t get it very often. If we put some out on the fire escape in a dish, I’m sure she’ll come back. That’s how I got her back in the house the last time, it just took me two days to think of it.”
Daniel grabbed his jacket. “Ok. I’ll head out to the fish market before it closes. I’ll be back soon.”
Once he was out the door, I stored my suitcases back in the bedroom and went to a drawer in my bureau. Inside was a large, flat case that looked like a small briefcase. I brought it into the living room and flipped open the clasp. Inside, lined up in neat rows, was an array of brushes, feathers and other implements -- my tickle toys. I removed the wrist and ankle restraints from the case and closed it back up.
I smiled to myself. It was almost time.
Laissez les bons temps rouler. Let the good times roll.
Daniel returned soon from the fish market and unwrapped the seafood from its waxed paper, depositing it on a small china dish. “I hope this doesn’t attract every rat in the city to your window instead of Geronimo.”
“I doubt it,” I shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”
Daniel turned and looked at me. “Have I told you how sorry I am that I let this happen?”
I patted him on the back. “Only about a dozen times. Stop with the ‘sorry’; I know you were as careful as anyone could have been. Besides,” I grinned at him, “your account is about to be marked paid in full.”
He smiled in puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”
“Tortures of the damned, remember? I told you you’d be at my mercy if Geronimo got out. Time to bite the bullet, buddy.”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “I think three days of sitting in a sauna has made you permanently light-headed. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. I expect you to prove that you’re a man of your word.”
For a second, Daniel looked very wary, as if he began to realize he might be in something that was way over his head. Then, he shrugged off his concerns and smirked at me. “Okay, I’m game. What do you want me to do? Write ‘I will never let the cat escape again’ 500 times on a blackboard?”
“No, Bart Simpson, your penmanship skills won’t be needed for this one. As if anyone can understand what a doctor writes anyway! This punishment is extremely simple – strip down to your shorts.”
He started in surprise. “What? Now, wait a minute….”
I laughed. “Don’t worry. I assure you, you can get through this with your virtue 100% intact.”
“Oh, I get it. You want me to scrub the bathroom with my toothbrush or something like that.”
“Well, the thought of getting my bathroom cleaned for free is a tempting offer, but I had something different in mind. Kindly lay yourself down flat in the window seat, please.”
Daniel peeled off his sweatshirt, revealing his toned chest and tight stomach. His ribs stood out in relief under his skin. Then, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his pants, looking me square in the eye defiantly as he undressed and didn’t ask me to look away.
I didn’t look away.
When he had stripped down to only a pair of black boxer-briefs that hugged him in absolutely all the right places, he stretched out in the window seat. He folded his arms behind his head and kept his eyes on me the whole time. “Now what?”
Without a word, I pulled the restraints I had waiting from behind a pillow and fastened the cuffs to his wrists and ankles. The thin but sturdy chains they were attached to got wrapped around two brass rings that were set on either side of the window for the purpose of holding back the drapes. I knew for a fact how deeply set into the wall those rings were, even Daniel’s most manic struggles wouldn’t pull them loose. I padlocked the chains in place and stepped back.
He was, understandably, a little flabbergasted. “Since when are we into the kinky stuff?”
I put my hand on my hips. “Don’t be such a baby. I’m sure this will be no worse than anything you ever went through as a freshman fraternity pledge.”
Yeah, right.
I placed the flat case holding all of my tickle toys on a side table, and opened it with the contents of the box hidden from Daniel’s sight. Slowly, I raised a long, black feather into his view and held it up for him to see. “I found out that you were ticklish when I bumped into you at the restaurant last week. Now, it’s time for you to get tickled and really put through your paces.”
Daniel froze and his eyes went wide with complete shock. His breathing became rapid and shallow as he shook his head slowly, beads of sweat already popping out on his forehead. “No!”
“Aw, come on. It’s just a little tickling. What are you afraid of?”
Daniel tried to swallow, his throat and mouth already dry. “No, no, you don’t understand. This may just be fun and games to you, but it isn’t to me. My older brother tortured me, tortured me, with tickling all the time I was growing up. He’d do it to the point where I could hardly breathe! The irony is, he wonders why we’re not close now. He made my life a living hell for years. I will lose my mind if I am tickled. I mean it. I will absolutely go insane.”
I lowered the feather and went over to him, as if I were going to release him from his chains. I saw him visibly relax and let out a shuddering sigh of relief.
I sat and perched myself on the edge of the window seat not taken up by Daniel’s athletic build. I stroked the brown locks of his hair. “Well, in that case, I won’t really be punishing you at all. I’ll actually be doing you a favor.”
His head shot up off the pillows in anger and he started bellowing at me.
“What? Didn’t you hear a word I said to you?”
“I heard. But, answer me this. What happens when you give a violin to a caveman?”
“Excuse me?” Daniel sputtered, looking at me as if I were crazy.
“Just answer the question. What would happen if you gave a violin to a caveman?”
Daniel glared at me. “Well, I suppose any self-respecting Neanderthal would break it apart and use it for firewood.”
I smiled. “No, he’s got enough firewood. And, he’s curious. Let’s say he figures out how to scrape the bow across the strings. He’s both awed and delighted that this strange box makes a noise, so he keeps sawing away at it.”
“Please get to a point,” Daniel huffed. “I’m feeling tortured already just by this conversation.”
“My point is that you and I know that a violin is capable of producing far more than just random screeching. Noise is very different from music. In the hands of a real musician, that violin becomes a beautiful instrument, and it’s the same violin.”
“Your brother is like that caveman. He may have gotten you to react, but that’s not the same thing as being under the hands of someone who really knows what they’re doing.”
Daniel moistened his dry lips with his tongue. I could tell he was intrigued by what I was saying, even if he wasn’t admitting it. “So, what, you’re saying that you’re some sort of virtuoso?”
I went from stroking his hair to running my thumb across his forehead, smoothing out the frowning lines of his face. “Tickle-play can be very satisfying and a whole lot of fun if it’s done right. There are ebbs and flows, crescendos and pauses, just like in a good piece of music.”
“Daniel, before this is all over, you’ll thank me for this.”
I’ll make sure that you thank me, I thought.
I ran my index finger down the side of Daniel’s face and under his left ear. I lingered at the tender spot behind his ear lobe. He turned his face away with a slight smile. I could tell he was affected already.
I traveled under his chin. He made a small noise and wrinkled his nose up as if he were bracing himself against the ticklish feelings. I dabbled my finger in the place where his neck met his chin. It was soft and free of any stubble. I combined long, slow strokes with faster tickles.
His smile turned into a grin and then widened.
“Are you ticklish there?” I cooed to him softly.
Daniel realized that he was grinning and bit down on his lip to halt any further reaction. I brought all ten fingers into play and began stroking the sides of his neck. Daniel hunched his shoulders up, but his restraints didn’t let him move very far. His sensitive neck was completely exposed.
“Lip biting isn’t going to work,” I teased him. “You know it’s not going to work. I’m only at your neck and you already want to laugh.”
Daniel didn’t answer, but shook his head back in forth in denial, his face getting more and more flushed. Small, animal-like whimpers came from him, but his lips remained firmly clamped.
“Oh, yes, Daniel, you want to laugh. I can see it written all over your face. You want to laugh so badly. It’s just bubbling up, tickling you from the inside, isn’t it? Soon, you won’t be able to stand it….”
“I’ll make you laugh for me!”
I grabbed his collarbone with my right hand and started to squeeze it. Daniel lost his composure completely and started laughing out loud. “No-ho! Stop! St-stop!”
Ignoring his pleas, I continued tickling him for a full minute more. I alternated my squeezing method with scampering fingers right inside the ridge of his collarbone, which made him giggle uncontrollably.
His face started to get really red. I stood up nonchalantly to give him a breather and went over to the side table. I retrieved my long, black feather and picked up another that was its twin. When I saw Daniel’s color start to return to normal, I returned to the window seat.
I placed the tips of the feathers on the insides of Daniel’s wrists, slipping them under the restraint cuffs. I swirled the feathers around on the thin skin and Daniel’s whole body stiffened at once. I smiled as I saw his eyes spring open in surprise.
He didn’t know he was ticklish there.
“You’re going to discover you’re ticklish in a lot of places you never imagined you’d be ticklish in,” I told him. “Like I said, you’re only suffered through brute tickling from people like your brother. No finesse, no exploration. They never seek out the finer points. But, I promise to explore you from head to toe.”
Daniel was squirming and writhing as I continued to tickle the insides of his wrists. He wasn’t laughing anymore, but I could see by his expression that the sensations affected him profoundly.
It’s all about the buildup, I thought to myself.
I dragged the edge of both feathers down Daniel’s arms and twisted them in the hollows of his inner elbow. This tickled more and he began to grin again, holding his tongue between his teeth.
I leaned down to his ear. “Tickle, tickle, tickle. Do you like it there, Daniel? Does that feel good?”
He sputtered out one loud guffaw before catching himself. My taunting words had increased his ticklishness. He was as sensitive to my teasing as he was to my fingers and feathers. I savored this fact, because teasing was as satisfying to me as manipulating flesh. I loved controlling his mind as well as his body.
I moved the feathers lower and lower, down Daniel’s arms. He began to struggle in earnest, as he obviously feared I would assault his underarms next. In fact, I avoided his armpits altogether and ran the feathers over his shoulders and onto his chest.
Daniel’s chest was very ticklish and the feathers dancing on his skin caused him to laugh again. I circled the feather points around his nipples and his laughter turned into high-pitched squeals. He almost threw me off the window seat as he arched his back against the nipple-torment.
“Kootchie koo, little nips! Are you ticklish too? Yes, you are. Daniel likes it sooo much, yes he does. You’re giving him a really good laugh. Do you want some more, nips?” I babytalked.
Daniel managed to beg in between peals of laughter. “No more! Please? Not-not on my nipples! Please? Please!”
Daniel’s rump hit the cushions repeatedly, bouncing in a frantic tempo. He twisted frantically to escape the feathers, but I followed his every gyration, never loosing contact with his tender nubbins. His nipples were now rock-hard and pointed from torment and a shallow, pink flush spread across his chest as he became more and more excited.
I removed the feather tips from him and it was like an electric circuit had been broken. Daniel instantly slumped down on the pillows, taking in huge gulps of air. “And now for something completely different,” I said, quoting Monty Python.
This time, the edges of the feathers were my weapons. They began a long, slow trek down Daniel’s ribs. I paid special attention the spaces between his ribs, where I rubbed the blades of the feathers back and forth relentlessly. Daniel launched into another bout of laughter, this time from way down inside his chest. His laugh was low and deep, like the booming of a kettle drum. So… his laughter does get deeper as he gets more tickled, I grinned to myself.
The discovery was beautiful. His laughter was beautiful. I had to have more.
I abandoned the feathers and dug into his sides with my fingers. The volume of Daniel’s mirth increased and he laughed even louder. His torso rocked from side to side, trying to dodge my fingers. Tears started spilling out from under his dark lashes and over his face, which was a mask of ticklish glee.
My fingers eventually found their way to a spot between Daniel’s last two ribs on his left side. The moment I touched that area, Daniel’s voice leapt up two octaves and he bleated with laughter. He arched his back into a semi-circle and started to shake all over. His voice took on a note of desperation as staccato peals of laughter issued forth.
“Is that your tickle-spot?” I asked him, batting my eyes in pretended innocence. “Is that it? Hmm? Did I find your ticklish, tickly, tickle-spot?”
Daniel continued to laugh and scream, too agonized with sensation to speak.
I grinned at him. “I thiiiink I diiiid! I found Daniel’s tickle-spot!”
After a few more moments of torture, I broke off my assault. Daniel looked at me with pleading eyes. “Not that spot, please? Not that spot! I can take anything but that --- No!”
I dived into the same spot again, driving Daniel over the edge, wild with laughter. He started thrashing manically, his begging shooting out in short bursts. “Not! There! Not! There! No-hoooo!!”
I continued my attack and retreat game for a while, tickling Daniel’s vulnerable place on his ribs furiously and then pulling back in time for him to catch his breath. Only about ten minutes of this torture tactic went by, but I’m sure it felt like half a day to Daniel. By the end, he was giggling even during his rest breaks, a loopy smile etched on his face.
I looked at his armpits, slicked with sweat and bobbing up and down as his shoulders heaved in exertion. They were, in a word, beautiful. From a tickler’s perspective, they were absolutely perfect. There was only a thin ribbon of hair running under each arm, the rest of his pits were as smooth as a young girl’s. That was the flesh I next wanted to feel underneath my fingertips.
I started spider-walking my fingers slowly up both of Daniel’s sides, only lightly tickling as I went. He stopped laughing hard, glad for his tickle-spot to be left alone. He calmed down until he was only chuckling softly. Then he saw the predatory gleam in my eyes and realized where my fingers were going. His eyes went wide with dread and he started quaking in fear. “Not the armpits, please?”
“Yes!” I responded, my whole face alight with the zealous desire to tickle his underarms.
He shook his head. “No! I’m so – I’m so – “
I enjoyed Daniel’s unwillingness to admit his own weakness. “You’re what? You’re so what, Daniel? Say it.”
His face crumpled and so did his resistance. “I’m…I’m ticklish! I’m so ticklish there! Please don’t do it! Not under my arms!”
His humble confession made me feel even more cruel. “Say it again, Daniel. Tell me how ticklish you are.”
Daniel screwed his eyes shut and started to sob at the psychological torture of my teasing.
“Tell me!” I ordered.
“Terribly ticklish! I’m – I’m horribly, terribly ticklish in my armpits. I’ll lose my mind!”
“Aw, do you think it’ll make you crazy, little baby?”
I pounced, my nails doing a jig across his silky skin.
Daniel screamed like a man being electrocuted.
I closed my eyes, tickling his yielding flesh by touch only and not by sight. As I drank in the escalating sounds of his ticklish agony, I was in my own state of rapture. I climbed on top of him and rendered him even more immobile. He couldn’t move his upper body; all he had to focus on now was the tactile invasion of my fingers. I covered his armpits in long, firm strokes from top to bottom and he howled. I wiggled my index fingers in the deepest depression of his armpits and he cackled like a witch.
Daniel bellowed with laughter until I heard his voice starting to give out. Then I stopped.
I looked down affectionately at Daniel. His chest was heaving and he was lathered in a sheen of sweat, like a spent racehorse. There were dark spots on the pillows where the wet curls of his hair had soaked them through with perspiration.
I stood and headed into the kitchen for a moment. When I returned, I saw that Daniel still lay, panting, in the same position. He was completely unaware that I had left the room and come back. Whatever was going through in his mind, he was clearly off in a world of his own. He was still shivering and not from cold. His tightly pressed eyelids twitched, and a tortured smile tugged occasionally at the edges of his mouth, as if he couldn’t stop smiling.
He looked adorable. He was a tickler’s dream.
I scooped some ice chips, retrieved from the kitchen, into my hand and fed them to him. I didn’t want him to get dehydrated. He stirred a little and eagerly sucked the icy morsels from my fingers.
I ended up letting him have half the bowl of ice chips. Feeding him took on a sensual quality that I wasn’t expecting. He kept his eyes shut, content to suckle at the ice and then my wet hands like a newborn baby. I began to think that he was sucking my fingers a little harder and longer than need be. It felt good, and I let myself get lost in the sensation for a few minutes. But then I resolved to get back to the business in question. It occurred to me that Daniel was just devious enough to try and distract me from tickling him with lovemaking overtures.
I pulled my fingers from his mouth and danced them, very lightly, under his arms and down his sides again. He grinned widely and started to giggle. But, this time, instead of lurching away from my hands, he stretched out his torso longer and seemed to be luxuriating in my touch. He tilted his head back and let the waves of his own ticklish laughter wash over him.
I was intrigued. I knew there was a point, if the tickling was done right, when the person began to enjoy the ticklish torment despite themselves. They get pushed past the point of ultimate agony and distress into a kind of ecstasy. Scientifically, I knew it had something to do with the endorphins released by laughter. On a much deeper level, I knew it had to do with the very psychology of torture itself. The real goal was not just to break a person, but to bend them to your will.
Was it possible Daniel was already broken?
“Do you like it, Daniel?” I purred. “Do you like it when I tickle you?”
Daniel waited a long heartbeat before answering. Then he squinched up his nose in protest and shook his head vehemently. “No. No, I don’t like it at all.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. He sounded less than convincing.
“Oh, really? Then why are you giggling? Why are you giggling like a maniac if you don’t like it?”
Somehow, Daniel managed to thrust his lower lip out like a stubborn schoolboy while still laughing. “It’s your fault,” he pouted. ”You’re m-making me laugh! I don’t-I don’t want to…but you’re t-tickling me!”
“Confession is good for the soul, Daniel. You’ve already admitted how ticklish you are, and that’s a good start. But, now you have to admit that, deep down, you really like being tickled.” I leaned in closer to his ear. “There’s no shame, you know, in admitting what you enjoy. And, you do enjoy it. We both know that.”
His eyes popped open and Daniel gave me a startled look, full of fear that I had hit upon one of his deepest secrets. Then, just as suddenly, he turned shy and began blushing. He buried his face in his left shoulder, continuing to laugh heartily but refusing to look at me. I thrilled to hear the desperate note creep back into his voice again as he guffawed. He knew I was close to breaking him once and for all.
I grinned myself, anticipating the hellish torments I was seconds away from unleashing on his ticklish flesh. “Since you won’t confess on your own, I’ll have to help you, won’t I? First, I’m going to soften you up – break that stubborn spirit of yours.”
I left Daniel’s upper body and approached his feet. I grasped his bound ankles firmly in each hand and leaned over his naked soles. I unlocked a wild place in myself that I usually keep hidden away, and poured all my voracious tickle-lust onto Daniel’s vulnerable and tender feet.
My mouth went crazy all over him; I started to lick and suck his feet aggressively. I licked the soles of his feet with my raspy tongue, like a cat washing its fur. I nibbled the balls of his feet, causing red, rosy marks to bloom on Daniel’s soft skin. I sucked on his toes as if the world were coming to an end. I sucked on the plump meat of each of his sturdy man-toes, one by one, rolling the digits around in my mouth like candy. The tip of my tongue was the weapon I employed between Daniel’s toes. I flicked the connecting skin between each toe mercilessly and lapped at the undersides and stems of his toes. The high arches of Daniel’s feet were subjected to my ferocious kisses and licking and his heels suffered the same fate. His heels were super-soft and pleated into deep wrinkles with every move he made. He couldn’t stand to have them touched. His feet were smooth, tender luxuries, as well taken care of as those of a rich society matron. I nibbled up and down the sides of his feet, then back to his arches. More attention was then lavished on the balls of his feet. The folds of flesh where the balls of his feet met the soles were the most ticklish places his had. I became drunk from the feel of his skin under my mouth. I tormented those hyper-sensitive ribbons of flesh with my questing, punishing tongue for what seemed like hours.
The effect my teasing mouth had on Daniel was extreme, to say the least. With the first touch of my lips, he started to howl. He wailed like a banshee for longer than I would have thought possible for human lungs to sustain. His laughter was babbling, incoherent, manic. He was so far gone, he couldn’t even beg. He tried to pull his feet away with all the strength he had, but the restraint cuffs and my hands held his ankles solidly in place. He might as well have been welded to the spot. His soles had no escape from my hungry mouth.
Anyone else, at this point, would have been afraid of the intervention of the police. Daniel was screaming like he was being murdered and no one overhearing him would have thought otherwise. Maybe he was screaming to get just such attention and rescue. But I knew, as Daniel did not, that my apartment had previously been owned by a record producer who had dampening materials put in the walls so he could listen to demo tapes and auditioning groups without incurring the wrath of the neighbors. The yowling of the loudest rock singer wouldn’t penetrate my walls and neither would the Daniel’s cries of ticklish agony.
I continued to let him scream.
By the time I wearied of sucking Daniel’s plump toes and looked up, there was a deep, rose flush covering the length of both feet from the heel to toe. That same hue had spread over Daniel’s entire body. Daniel looked at me with a truly pathetic expression.
“Please, no more,” he whispered.
I cocked my head at him. “Aren’t you tired, Daniel?” I asked.
He nodded wearily. “Yes. Very tired.”
I smirked. “No, I mean, aren’t you tired of denying everything? Just tell me that you like it and I’ll stop tickling your feet.”
Even through the depths of his exhaustion, the mischievous, boyish glint returned to his eyes. He wanted me to finish the rest of the game. “I don’t wanna,” he sulked, quietly, like a little kid.
I propped his feet up on my lap and leered at him. “But, I’m gonna make you.”
I attacked his feet with my nails this time, scratching his heels and the balls of his feet simultaneously. This torture was unendurable to Daniel and sent him beyond his limit. He started screeching, laughing harder than I thought possible. I continued dancing and raking my nails across the balls and heels of his feet and then leaned over to blow long streams of breath, first cool, and then hot, over Daniel’s already sensitized arches.
That was when Daniel finally snapped.
It’s difficult to express in words, but I could feel the exact moment when Daniel’s will broke, the very second he surrendered to me completely.
“I like it!” He sputtered out, still howling with laughter.
“I’m sorry – what was that, again?” I asked with mock innocence.
Somehow, despite being wracked by the throes of tickle torture, he managed to look me straight in the eye. “I like it! I admit it; I like it! I-I was lying before! I didn’t want to admit that I love being tickled!!”
“Well, maybe you’re just lying now,” I mused.
“You know I’m not! Please – please don’t stop? It-it feels good! Heaven help me, but it feels so good!!!”
I felt Daniel’s body relax completely, no longer fighting my teasing ministrations. The torment was driving him crazy, but he couldn’t get enough of it. He became my willing tickle slave, passively accepting the torture I visited upon his bare feet.
I grinned, happy to have finally broken his will. “Well, since you like it so much, let’s give you some more then.”
I wet my thumbs in the ice bowl and slowly stroked them up and down the tender arches of Daniel’s feet, pressing deeply to cause maximum effect. Daniel hooted with laughter, his voice an equal mixture of agony and delight. He knew he was being driven to some form of madness, but he no longer cared. I made spiral patterns in his arches, twisting and circling my thumbs relentlessly, pitilessly, into the two ticklish crescents of flesh.
Peals of laughter echoed off the walls. Daniel’s entire body bounced and shuddered in ticklish glee and I continued to torment his arches for a long time.
When I thought his feet had suffered under enough of my attention, I stood up and gave him a friendly slap on the leg. “Well, doctor, I believe your ‘treatment’ is now complete! I’m going to let you go now, kiddo.”
I stood up and went to release his arms from his wrist cuffs. As I attempted to do so, he grabbed my fingers with his right hand. He locked eyes with me. “You’re not…going to leave me like this, are you?” he asked.
I knew that Daniel was referring to the massive swelling in his briefs. He developed a sudden, rock-hard erection the second I first started tickling his feet. I made a point of ignoring it, although I was sure that, by this time, it must be pretty painful for him.
“Not my fault, kiddo,” I said sweetly. “That’s the one place I didn’t touch, so I’m not responsible. Besides, I told you that you would get out of this with your virtue 100% intact. You do want me to be a woman of my word, don’t you?”
“Right now? Not particularly, no,” Daniel said, peevishly. After a moment, his look softened. “Look, I’m not saying this just because I want to get off. I…I think about you. The truth is, I sort of did even back when I was with….”
I laid a hushing finger across his lips. “Shh, don’t.” I gave him appraising look. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Daniel’s eyes were still fixed on me. “I do. I want to make love. Let me show you I can make you happy.”
I stroked his cheek and then patted his wrist cuffs. “That’s so sweet. My own Sir Galahad. But, as long as you’re in my custody, we’re going to do things my way.”
Before he could protest, I fetched a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut Daniel’s briefs right off his hips. As I slid the material out from under his bum, he favored me with a confused look. “What are you doing?” he asked.
I retrieved my two friends, the pointed black feathers, and approached his crotch like a lion stalking prey. “And, to think! You thought what went on before felt good! You haven’t felt anything yet! You’re about to get the tickling of your life!”
Daniel was beyond fear, beyond dread. He didn’t beg for either mercy or release. This was not, I think, because he trusted me. It was simply because he now knew, and accepted, that he was my captive in every sense of the word. Until I let him go, I controlled his body completely: his laughter, his tears, his pain…and his pleasure. He trembled, whimpered and closed his eyes.
I ran the tip of one feather up and down his shaft. With the other, I repeatedly flicked the tender fold underneath the head of his penis. After this assault, I turned the attention of the tormenting feathers to Daniel’s vulnerable scrotum. One feather ravaged his ball-sack, tickling ceaselessly. I slipped the other feather under his scrotum and tenderly tortured the small area of skin in front of his anus.
Daniel, I believe, gave new definition to the word ‘screaming’ that day. He shrieked like a wild animal -- insane with primal screeching, hysterical with laughter. I thought he would pull the wall down.
All in all, I was amazed at his endurance. It took him three whole minutes of torture to come.
A half an hour later, Daniel and I were snuggled in the window seat together. He was still completely and unabashedly naked. He kissed my hair and forehead affectionately while I stroked his chafed wrists, trying to restore his circulation.
“You know,” he said, his voice heavy with a dreamy, almost sleepy quality, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever admitted that – well, that sometimes I don’t mind not being the aggressor.”
I shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, not in theory. The truth is, a lot of women say they like sensitive guys, but they can treat them with contempt in practice. Our society doesn’t look kindly on men who show weakness or passivity.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t happen to think weakness and passivity are exactly the same thing, but I see your point.”
He looked at me meaningfully. “Isn’t that why you don’t tell people you like tickling men to death? Because it’s ‘different’?”
“Half to death,” I corrected, smiling. “You’re still breathing, mister. But, yes, I feel it’s wiser to keep my particular tastes largely to myself. I’m not ashamed, but I don’t broadcast it either.”
Daniel murmured in agreement. “Yeah, I figured there must be a pretty good reason for you to go through such an elaborate ruse.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from quavering.
Daniel chuckled knowingly. “Oh, that’s right. I didn’t get the chance to tell you. The pet kennel called about twenty minutes before you came home. They said you can pick up Geronimo tomorrow at any time.”
I sighed. The jig was definitely up. “Well, it’s just like Sherlock Holmes said, isn’t it? Even the best criminal always makes a mistake. I should have given them my cell phone number….So, you went along with this whole thing, knowing it was a set-up?”
“I didn’t know for most of the day -- as my hours spent scouring the neighborhood will attest to,” Daniel responded with a small note of grumpiness. “After the phone call, I thought you were playing a practical joke or something. I didn’t bust you because I wanted to know what you were up to.”
“Well, now you know!” I laughed.
Daniel bent down and kissed my mouth once, very tenderly. “Yes…now I know. But, I’ll tell you something….”
“What?”
“The next time you see me naked, you and I are going to have a proper go of things. I won’t be the only one coming explosively, I promise you that.”
I looked up at him with a sly, secretive smile on my face.
“We’ll see.”
THE END
Author: Naughty Feather
Email: [email protected]
Content: F/M tickling, sexual content
Feedback: Yes, please (if it’s kind)!
Author’s Note: I originally wrote this short story for the F/M tickling website, The Hidden Rose Garden. Unfortunately, the site seems to have vanished. So, I thought I would share the story with the audience of this forum. I realize F/M tickling fiction is not everyone’s cup of tea, so if you are not into it, please pass this one by. For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy the tickle literature I’ve written. And please note that it is fictional, not autobiographical.
Daniel Troy was a good friend of mine. He was an internist at St. Vincent’s. He was kind, sweet and more than a little attractive. In fact, his hazel eyes had been known to make grown women forget what they were about to say. On the surface, Daniel seemed like ideal husband or boyfriend material, but I could never have dated him. I enjoyed him as a friend, but he wasn’t really my type. Also, he was forbidden fruit; my best girlfriend, Anna, had already dated him. That’s how I met Daniel in the first place. Of course, trying to explain to your grandchild-starved mother why you wouldn’t go after a cute, available doctor because of a “no ex-boyfriends” pact you and your best friend made at the age of fourteen was a pretty tough sell. “They haven’t been going out for months!” She screeched in exasperation.
I had laughed indulgently and said that there was no statute of limitations on the ex-boyfriends pact. In truth, I really believed that. They hadn’t just gone out a few times, they had a serious relationship for over a year. Going to Daniel after Anna had been with him would have just felt nasty to me, like trying to get clean in someone’s used bathwater.
But, that didn’t mean I didn’t start thinking about him. You always want what you can’t have, even if you don’t really want it.
Anna had gone out to California for a few weeks to attend a writing workshop. Since her breakup with Daniel had not been acrimonious, he was “allowed” to remain in our little circle of friends. While she was away, I saw him quite frequently whenever a bunch of us decided to go out to dinner.
One night, we were all piled into one of the leather banquettes of a new pub restaurant that had just opened up, laughing and jostling one another for enough room. Daniel and I ended up right next to each other, sides pressed together like Siamese twins. When the waitress set down the tray with our drinks, I felt Daniel shiver next to me. His reaction was so extreme the tremor went out of his body and straight into mine. I turned to look at him. I followed his stare down to the table, where the waitress had her palms pressed flat. Her nails were very long and lacquered with a deep, rich, red polish. I felt Daniel shudder again as she gently tapped the point of one fingernail against the grain of the wood, impatient that my friend Winn had changed his mind about his entrée order five times.
My curiosity was piqued and my radar instantly went up. “What’s the matter? “ I whispered to Daniel in a conspiratorial fashion. “Are her hands dirty or something?”
Daniel was still staring at the young woman’s hands; he seemed transfixed. “Um, no, it’s just those nails! They’re so long! Women don’t usually wear them that long anymore. Can you imagine those nails on your skin? It’d be like having ten little needles or little hooks going into you.”
My mouth began to water, but I played it cool. “Oh, they look imposing, but I bet you probably wouldn’t even feel them.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Believe me, I would.”
“Aw, sensitive guy, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, everybody loves a sensitive man,” I replied.
Daniel came out of his reverie and went back to studying the menu. “Does the burger with cheddar and onions sound good to you? I think I might have that.”
I murmured some vague response in favor of the aforementioned burger while all the time bells and whistles and flashing lights were going off in my head like a pinball machine that just hit the high score.
We have a winner, I thought to myself, salivating from more than the prospect of dinner. The boy is definitely ticklish.
Oh, yes, I wanted Daniel now. I most assuredly did. I didn’t intend to keep him, but I had to have him.
The next day, during a lazy Saturday afternoon, I was sprawled out on the long window seat in my apartment, comfy in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. My mind, however, was churning like the pistons of a racecar. I was trying to think of what Machiavellian plot would put Daniel into my waiting clutches.
I snuggled down among the pillows as I thought about the revelations of the night before at dinner. After Daniel’s reaction to the waitress, I was determined to find out how much of a “sensitive guy” he really was. At the end of the night, when the whole group of us gathered near the restaurant’s entryway, sorting out our jackets from the rather overwhelmed coat-check girl, I decided I had a good cover to make my move. Pretending to fumble with my coat as I tried to get the material over my arm, I made myself stumble into Daniel and ran my thumb firmly down his side several inches. Underneath his well-muscled torso, I could feel both the outline of his ribs and the hollow depressions between his rib-bones. At my touch, Daniel’s face instantly split into a wide, childish grin and I heard a soft giggle escape his lips. I muttered darkly about getting my stupid coat tangled up, acting as if I hadn’t tickled him at all, or as if I didn’t know that I had. Daniel also pretended it didn’t happen and simply helped me on with my coat.
I had been replaying that grin and that giggle in my mind over and over again since leaving the restaurant.
It was then that I realized why I had been increasingly drawn to Daniel. He was a handsome man, but I was mainly attracted to his laugh. Some men have high-pitched laughs, even though their speaking voices are relatively deep. In some cases, the sound is really annoying; the laugh just sounds very affected and somewhat fey. In other men, though, there is no more adorable sound. Daniel’s laugh was like that. It was pure and clear and completely un-self-conscious, like a child’s laughter. Daniel laughed like he was being tickled every time he laughed, even if he was just laughing at a joke or something on TV.
I longed, I needed, to hear that sound again. Not only that, I wanted to know how Daniel sounded when he was pushed to the extreme, way past the limits of what he thought his body could tolerate. Would his laugh reach higher and higher octaves until he shook with silent laughter or would his laughter get deeper and more bass as he got really tickled?
I thought back to what Anna said when she came over to tell me she had finally decided to call it quits with Daniel. We had an all-night, girlfriend sob-session on my couch, surrounded by enough Chinese food to impress a Mandarin emperor. Daniel, Anna complained, was entirely too passive for her to build a long-term relationship with. I raised my eyebrow silently at this because Anna, though a wonderful woman of many talents and qualities, was pretty bossy in her relationships (in fact, one of her college exes said that he got sick of her “mothering” him), so I was a little surprised that Anna disliked this trait in Daniel. I probed her further as to what upset her so much about this. “It’s not that it bothers me,” she asserted, swirling her chopsticks into a white paper carton, “I mean, I don’t mind organizing things. It’s the fact that he won’t be open about it.”
I expressed confusion.
“Daniel wants to be passive, but there has to be some reason for him to allow himself to be passive, or he can’t give himself ‘permission’ to be that way. And, of course, that’s when he would always turn around and snap at me, like everything was my fault.”
I was, quite frankly, still in the dark. “Can you give me some examples?”
“Well, say you mentioned to him that all of his socks were so frayed, they looked like he’d been through a war. He’d just ignore you and keep wearing them until they fell off his feet. So, you get tired of tripping over sad little tatters of cloth on the floor of the apartment and you swing by the store and buy him new socks. He would look at you coldly and inform you that he already has a mother.”
“Anna, don’t bite my head off here, but some people would ask why you were buying a grown man his socks.”
My friend shook her head vehemently. “No, the question is why isn’t that supposedly grown man buying his own socks? But, you see, if you were to give him a year’s supply of socks as a birthday present, he would just thank you and trot off happily to wear them.”
“Okay, you don’t think that a birthday present is different?”
“Oh, come one. Socks are not birthday gifts and everyone knows it. That’s so lame. You wouldn’t even give socks to a boss you hated.”
As I gave Anna my “whatever” face and bit into my spring roll, she suddenly grabbed my arm. “Ooh, I have a much better example! One night, he was supposed to be making us some hot cocoa, but he was so engrossed in watching the game that he wasn’t paying attention to the stove. The pot boiled over and was totally scorched; it took three days of soaking it in cold water to get the burnt milk out. I had just bought that pan and I was furious. But rather than screaming at him, I pushed him over the back of the couch and started whacking his butt, telling him he needed a good spanking for not paying attention. I was just joking around, but after about the fifth smack, he let out this incredible, deep moan….”
“He liked it?”
Anna threw back her curly head and laughed. “He was saluting the flag, girlfriend! I’ve never seen him get so hard so quickly before! So I thought, what the heck, I’ll play along if he likes it, and I started really wailing on him. By the end, I had him completely naked. He was standing up on his toes from the stinging pain and the muscles in his arms were all knotted up. There were tears coming from his eyes and he was holding on to the back of the sofa for dear life, but he didn’t tell me to stop. I felt like I had broken all the bones in my hand, but I couldn’t stop either. I was just as caught up in it as he was. Then, I grabbed him under his balls and spanked him at the same time and he completely lost it. One of the most powerful ejaculations I have ever seen in my life.”
I was more than a little intrigued by hearing this story but I couldn’t let that show. “First of all, I can’t believe you didn’t get that job writing for “Sex and the City”; you’re a natural. But, I fail to see the point you’re trying to make about Daniel. A lot of guys like a good smack on the butt. I mean, what’s a little spanking between lovers?”
“Yeah, but see, that’s just the point. I tried to repeat our little performance a few nights later and he shut down on me again, gave me that cold look.”
“Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood then.”
Anna rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. “You know, you can be surprisingly obtuse for such a smart woman. It wasn’t a question of his mood. It was a question of the permission issue I mentioned before. See, he let me do it before because he ruined the pot…because he deserved it, because he was being punished. But he can’t bring himself to enjoy something he obviously enjoys out in the open, all on its own, just because he enjoys it.”
I summed up. “So, what you’re saying is that Daniel needs some excuse or cover story to allow himself to take a passive role, to save face, or he won’t permit himself to be in a passive position in the first place, let alone enjoy it.”
Anna gave me a knowing look. “Yup. That’s about the size of it. And it’s so emotionally dishonest. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason Anna had decided to stop seeing Daniel. They had many fundamental differences that had been obvious from the very beginning of their relationship, but the cracks just didn’t form until later.
I continued to mull over that part of the conversation from that night. Even if Anna was exaggerating somewhat, it was clear it would take a delicate touch (no pun intended), to maneuver Daniel where I wanted him. He wouldn’t respond well if I came right out and just asked him to let me tickle him. Not that I would. I consider myself a very forthright person, but I’m also a big believer in not messing where you eat. I wasn’t especially keen on having my circle of closest friends know that much about my personal tastes.
Just then, my ginger-striped cat, Geronimo, came waddling in from the bedroom. She had obviously decided that I spent enough time pursuing the contemplative life; it was time for her to be the center of attention again. She butted my outstretched hand repeatedly with her head and meowed. I rubbed her between the ears for a moment, and then my spine suddenly stiffened as inspiration struck. I smiled widely and looked down at Geronimo.
I would bait my ‘mousetrap’ for Daniel with a cat.
A few days later, I stood in the middle of my apartment with a small suitcase by my side and a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Daniel was standing in front of me with his hands stuffed casually in his pockets.
I had gang-pressed Daniel into service. He would stay in my apartment and babysit Geronimo while I went away on a three-day weekend. Truth be told, he didn’t take much convincing. Since breaking up with Anna and moving out of their loft, Daniel shared a place with two roommates who had been fraternity buddies of his in college. He was looking for his own place, but finding a good place in New York isn’t easy, and he didn’t have a nice aunt in the apartment real estate business, like I did. He was only too happy to spend a few days in a spacious, single apartment and get a little peace and quiet.
I made a mental note to send Aunt Joan a large bouquet of flowers for her next birthday.
Daniel looked at me with an amused expression on his face. “Honestly, you treat that cat like a regular baby. Stop fretting so much. You’ve already told me what brand of cat food she likes, what brand of cat litter she likes and where all the cat toys are, and I’ve written it all down. She’ll be fine with me, you know. I am a doctor. Shouldn’t you get going? You’ll miss your train.”
I’m against lying, especially when a deftly manipulated truth will do. I told Daniel I was going to a spa for a long weekend, and that really was the truth. But I had also led him to believe (without actually saying it of course), that I was going out of town. In fact, I had booked reservations at a lovely hotel right in the city that had a spa in it. I wouldn’t be out of the city at all, but it was crucial to my overall plan that Daniel think I would be.
“ I know you’re a doctor, but you’re not a vet. I’m not afraid of her getting sick, though. It’s what I said about the window. Do you remember what I said about the window?”
Daniel nodded towards the glass right over the window seat. “The latch on that window is shaky and she can unfasten it and get out onto the fire escape if it isn’t locked securely.”
I gave a little laugh and a shrug. “I don’t know how she figured out how to undo the blessed thing in the first place; she’s like a little Houdini. The last time she got out, she roamed around the neighborhood and didn’t come back for almost two days. I was really frantic.”
Daniel put his hand on my shoulder, and I tried to ignore the fact that his hand felt good. “I promise I will keep it shut and locked. Okay?”
“I know. I’m sorry to be such a ‘nervous mom’, but I’ve never been away from her since I got her as a kitten. If something were to happen to her, I’d die.”
“If she gets out – and she won’t – I will personally scour the streets until I find her, come rain, sleet or snow.”
I looked him square in the eye. “Oh, you’ll pay a higher penalty than that, brother. You’ll suffer the tortures of the damned if anything happens to her. And I’ll carry out your punishment with my own two hands. Agreed?”
He gave me an exasperated look. “Yeah, yeah. Agreed. Now, will you go?”
Daniel gently pushed me out the front door and onto the elevator. Once the doors shut, I allowed myself a wide, evil grin.
The trap had been set.
I spent the first two days in the hotel, letting myself get pampered and massaged, ordering luxurious meals from room service and popping open $12 cans of cashew nuts from the mini-bar. I was having the time of my life because I really did need a vacation. I didn’t even think of either Daniel or Geronimo. On the third day, however, I got back down to business.
I knew Daniel would either go jogging or go off to his health club for a workout early in the morning, and he didn’t disappoint me. Hiding behind sunglasses, a magazine and a cup of coffee like a genuine spy, I positioned myself where I could see the entrance of my building. I saw Daniel leave and head north, towards his health club. Then, although patience is against my nature, I waited ten more minutes to be sure he didn’t double back for something.
I approached my building and crossed the street, my finger pressing the dial button of my cell phone. I saw my doorman turn from his post and walk into the back room. The number I had dialed was for the building office. I slipped past without him seeing me and climbed onto the waiting elevator.
As the doors closed, I grasped the railing of the elevator car and only then realized that I had been holding my breath the whole time. I was bathed in a layer of cold sweat and I was panting, but I also felt exhilarated and almost light-headed. I hadn’t been this excited in a long time.
I let myself into my apartment and peered around my own house as if I were a stranger.
The place looked exactly the same. Daniel had been nice and neat. Only a cereal bowl drying in the dish rack and a t-shirt draped over the back of a chair attested to his presence at all. I went over to the window in question and pried it open. It was no easy feat; Daniel had, as he’d promised, made sure the window was securely fastened.
Aw, I bit my lip. That’s so sweet, what a nice guy. I almost had misgivings about the con game I was trying to run on him, but I crept up behind my guilty conscience and beat it to death with a lead pipe. I was having too much fun already.
I slipped a hand into my pocket and retrieved an envelope full of cat hair that I had previously gathered from Geronimo’s cat comb. I flung the orange fur over the cushions and over the top of the window. For a last, authentic touch, I wedged some of the fur between the bars of the fire escape outside. I scooped up Geronimo and nestled her down into my empty duffel bag. She growled in protest as I closed the zipper over her head.
On the elevator, I made another call to the building’s management office. As I hurried through the lobby, I could hear the angry tones of my doorman, repeatedly asking if anyone was there on the line. I sprinted through the front doors and didn’t slow my pace until I was a good two blocks away. Then I hailed a cab from the corner, and gave the driver the address of one of the finest pet groomers in New York. After all, I reasoned, if I deserved a spa vacation, Geronimo certainly deserved one too.
I unzipped a corner of the duffel bag and Geronimo poked an angry head out. “Don’t worry,” I cooed to the cat. “You’re going to get shampooed and pampered and then you’ll be all nice and clean. And I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow. In the meantime, Mama’s going to have a little fun….”
The trap had been sprung.
When I came back to my apartment, suitcases in tow, for my ‘official’ return from vacation, it was late afternoon. I found Daniel sitting at my kitchen table, with his chin in his hand, staring listlessly into space. On the table in front of him were binoculars and a high-powered flashlight. He turned to look at me with such a pained and leaden expression that I instantly felt a stab of guilt in my gut. When he finally spoke, he lifted his eyes towards the ceiling, unable to look at me directly. “Geronimo got out,” he said, his voice devoid of expression as if he were in shock. “I don’t know…I don’t know how it happened. She got out through the window. I’ve been looking for her all afternoon.”
I felt like an A-1 heel. But, to paraphrase MacBeth, I’d gone too far to back out of the charade now. I dropped my bags and acted panicked. “Oh, no! Are you sure? Geronimo, come here, baby! Maybe she’s just hiding somewhere in here. She does that when she gets cross.”
“I’ve looked,” Daniel replied, shaking his head wearily. “I’ve looked everywhere, believe me. She’s not in the house. Besides, that window was not open when I went out this morning. It was the last thing I checked before I locked the door. She definitely got out.”
I sat down on the window seat and bit into my thumb. I was trying not to let guilt and hesitation overtake me, but Daniel, of course, mistook it for misery. “Look, it’ll be alright. I promise. I know -- I also promised she wouldn’t get out in the first place. But, I swear I’ll rectify the situation. It’s getting dark out, but with the flashlight, I can go back out and look again. Also, I left a voice mail message for my roommates. When they get home from work, they’ll come over and help look too. We’ll find her.”
My mind leaped in fear. The last thing I wanted was to involve more people in this farce. Besides, I needed Daniel alone. “Call them back and tell them not to come,” I encouraged. “There’s another way to get Geronimo home.”
Daniel looked confused. “How?”
“She just gets out to assert her independence, she never strays very far from home. She’s too frightened of strangers and traffic. If we can lure her back inside with a treat, she’ll come home a lot quicker.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Well, she likes shredded lobster because, obviously, she doesn’t get it very often. If we put some out on the fire escape in a dish, I’m sure she’ll come back. That’s how I got her back in the house the last time, it just took me two days to think of it.”
Daniel grabbed his jacket. “Ok. I’ll head out to the fish market before it closes. I’ll be back soon.”
Once he was out the door, I stored my suitcases back in the bedroom and went to a drawer in my bureau. Inside was a large, flat case that looked like a small briefcase. I brought it into the living room and flipped open the clasp. Inside, lined up in neat rows, was an array of brushes, feathers and other implements -- my tickle toys. I removed the wrist and ankle restraints from the case and closed it back up.
I smiled to myself. It was almost time.
Laissez les bons temps rouler. Let the good times roll.
Daniel returned soon from the fish market and unwrapped the seafood from its waxed paper, depositing it on a small china dish. “I hope this doesn’t attract every rat in the city to your window instead of Geronimo.”
“I doubt it,” I shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”
Daniel turned and looked at me. “Have I told you how sorry I am that I let this happen?”
I patted him on the back. “Only about a dozen times. Stop with the ‘sorry’; I know you were as careful as anyone could have been. Besides,” I grinned at him, “your account is about to be marked paid in full.”
He smiled in puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”
“Tortures of the damned, remember? I told you you’d be at my mercy if Geronimo got out. Time to bite the bullet, buddy.”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “I think three days of sitting in a sauna has made you permanently light-headed. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. I expect you to prove that you’re a man of your word.”
For a second, Daniel looked very wary, as if he began to realize he might be in something that was way over his head. Then, he shrugged off his concerns and smirked at me. “Okay, I’m game. What do you want me to do? Write ‘I will never let the cat escape again’ 500 times on a blackboard?”
“No, Bart Simpson, your penmanship skills won’t be needed for this one. As if anyone can understand what a doctor writes anyway! This punishment is extremely simple – strip down to your shorts.”
He started in surprise. “What? Now, wait a minute….”
I laughed. “Don’t worry. I assure you, you can get through this with your virtue 100% intact.”
“Oh, I get it. You want me to scrub the bathroom with my toothbrush or something like that.”
“Well, the thought of getting my bathroom cleaned for free is a tempting offer, but I had something different in mind. Kindly lay yourself down flat in the window seat, please.”
Daniel peeled off his sweatshirt, revealing his toned chest and tight stomach. His ribs stood out in relief under his skin. Then, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his pants, looking me square in the eye defiantly as he undressed and didn’t ask me to look away.
I didn’t look away.
When he had stripped down to only a pair of black boxer-briefs that hugged him in absolutely all the right places, he stretched out in the window seat. He folded his arms behind his head and kept his eyes on me the whole time. “Now what?”
Without a word, I pulled the restraints I had waiting from behind a pillow and fastened the cuffs to his wrists and ankles. The thin but sturdy chains they were attached to got wrapped around two brass rings that were set on either side of the window for the purpose of holding back the drapes. I knew for a fact how deeply set into the wall those rings were, even Daniel’s most manic struggles wouldn’t pull them loose. I padlocked the chains in place and stepped back.
He was, understandably, a little flabbergasted. “Since when are we into the kinky stuff?”
I put my hand on my hips. “Don’t be such a baby. I’m sure this will be no worse than anything you ever went through as a freshman fraternity pledge.”
Yeah, right.
I placed the flat case holding all of my tickle toys on a side table, and opened it with the contents of the box hidden from Daniel’s sight. Slowly, I raised a long, black feather into his view and held it up for him to see. “I found out that you were ticklish when I bumped into you at the restaurant last week. Now, it’s time for you to get tickled and really put through your paces.”
Daniel froze and his eyes went wide with complete shock. His breathing became rapid and shallow as he shook his head slowly, beads of sweat already popping out on his forehead. “No!”
“Aw, come on. It’s just a little tickling. What are you afraid of?”
Daniel tried to swallow, his throat and mouth already dry. “No, no, you don’t understand. This may just be fun and games to you, but it isn’t to me. My older brother tortured me, tortured me, with tickling all the time I was growing up. He’d do it to the point where I could hardly breathe! The irony is, he wonders why we’re not close now. He made my life a living hell for years. I will lose my mind if I am tickled. I mean it. I will absolutely go insane.”
I lowered the feather and went over to him, as if I were going to release him from his chains. I saw him visibly relax and let out a shuddering sigh of relief.
I sat and perched myself on the edge of the window seat not taken up by Daniel’s athletic build. I stroked the brown locks of his hair. “Well, in that case, I won’t really be punishing you at all. I’ll actually be doing you a favor.”
His head shot up off the pillows in anger and he started bellowing at me.
“What? Didn’t you hear a word I said to you?”
“I heard. But, answer me this. What happens when you give a violin to a caveman?”
“Excuse me?” Daniel sputtered, looking at me as if I were crazy.
“Just answer the question. What would happen if you gave a violin to a caveman?”
Daniel glared at me. “Well, I suppose any self-respecting Neanderthal would break it apart and use it for firewood.”
I smiled. “No, he’s got enough firewood. And, he’s curious. Let’s say he figures out how to scrape the bow across the strings. He’s both awed and delighted that this strange box makes a noise, so he keeps sawing away at it.”
“Please get to a point,” Daniel huffed. “I’m feeling tortured already just by this conversation.”
“My point is that you and I know that a violin is capable of producing far more than just random screeching. Noise is very different from music. In the hands of a real musician, that violin becomes a beautiful instrument, and it’s the same violin.”
“Your brother is like that caveman. He may have gotten you to react, but that’s not the same thing as being under the hands of someone who really knows what they’re doing.”
Daniel moistened his dry lips with his tongue. I could tell he was intrigued by what I was saying, even if he wasn’t admitting it. “So, what, you’re saying that you’re some sort of virtuoso?”
I went from stroking his hair to running my thumb across his forehead, smoothing out the frowning lines of his face. “Tickle-play can be very satisfying and a whole lot of fun if it’s done right. There are ebbs and flows, crescendos and pauses, just like in a good piece of music.”
“Daniel, before this is all over, you’ll thank me for this.”
I’ll make sure that you thank me, I thought.
I ran my index finger down the side of Daniel’s face and under his left ear. I lingered at the tender spot behind his ear lobe. He turned his face away with a slight smile. I could tell he was affected already.
I traveled under his chin. He made a small noise and wrinkled his nose up as if he were bracing himself against the ticklish feelings. I dabbled my finger in the place where his neck met his chin. It was soft and free of any stubble. I combined long, slow strokes with faster tickles.
His smile turned into a grin and then widened.
“Are you ticklish there?” I cooed to him softly.
Daniel realized that he was grinning and bit down on his lip to halt any further reaction. I brought all ten fingers into play and began stroking the sides of his neck. Daniel hunched his shoulders up, but his restraints didn’t let him move very far. His sensitive neck was completely exposed.
“Lip biting isn’t going to work,” I teased him. “You know it’s not going to work. I’m only at your neck and you already want to laugh.”
Daniel didn’t answer, but shook his head back in forth in denial, his face getting more and more flushed. Small, animal-like whimpers came from him, but his lips remained firmly clamped.
“Oh, yes, Daniel, you want to laugh. I can see it written all over your face. You want to laugh so badly. It’s just bubbling up, tickling you from the inside, isn’t it? Soon, you won’t be able to stand it….”
“I’ll make you laugh for me!”
I grabbed his collarbone with my right hand and started to squeeze it. Daniel lost his composure completely and started laughing out loud. “No-ho! Stop! St-stop!”
Ignoring his pleas, I continued tickling him for a full minute more. I alternated my squeezing method with scampering fingers right inside the ridge of his collarbone, which made him giggle uncontrollably.
His face started to get really red. I stood up nonchalantly to give him a breather and went over to the side table. I retrieved my long, black feather and picked up another that was its twin. When I saw Daniel’s color start to return to normal, I returned to the window seat.
I placed the tips of the feathers on the insides of Daniel’s wrists, slipping them under the restraint cuffs. I swirled the feathers around on the thin skin and Daniel’s whole body stiffened at once. I smiled as I saw his eyes spring open in surprise.
He didn’t know he was ticklish there.
“You’re going to discover you’re ticklish in a lot of places you never imagined you’d be ticklish in,” I told him. “Like I said, you’re only suffered through brute tickling from people like your brother. No finesse, no exploration. They never seek out the finer points. But, I promise to explore you from head to toe.”
Daniel was squirming and writhing as I continued to tickle the insides of his wrists. He wasn’t laughing anymore, but I could see by his expression that the sensations affected him profoundly.
It’s all about the buildup, I thought to myself.
I dragged the edge of both feathers down Daniel’s arms and twisted them in the hollows of his inner elbow. This tickled more and he began to grin again, holding his tongue between his teeth.
I leaned down to his ear. “Tickle, tickle, tickle. Do you like it there, Daniel? Does that feel good?”
He sputtered out one loud guffaw before catching himself. My taunting words had increased his ticklishness. He was as sensitive to my teasing as he was to my fingers and feathers. I savored this fact, because teasing was as satisfying to me as manipulating flesh. I loved controlling his mind as well as his body.
I moved the feathers lower and lower, down Daniel’s arms. He began to struggle in earnest, as he obviously feared I would assault his underarms next. In fact, I avoided his armpits altogether and ran the feathers over his shoulders and onto his chest.
Daniel’s chest was very ticklish and the feathers dancing on his skin caused him to laugh again. I circled the feather points around his nipples and his laughter turned into high-pitched squeals. He almost threw me off the window seat as he arched his back against the nipple-torment.
“Kootchie koo, little nips! Are you ticklish too? Yes, you are. Daniel likes it sooo much, yes he does. You’re giving him a really good laugh. Do you want some more, nips?” I babytalked.
Daniel managed to beg in between peals of laughter. “No more! Please? Not-not on my nipples! Please? Please!”
Daniel’s rump hit the cushions repeatedly, bouncing in a frantic tempo. He twisted frantically to escape the feathers, but I followed his every gyration, never loosing contact with his tender nubbins. His nipples were now rock-hard and pointed from torment and a shallow, pink flush spread across his chest as he became more and more excited.
I removed the feather tips from him and it was like an electric circuit had been broken. Daniel instantly slumped down on the pillows, taking in huge gulps of air. “And now for something completely different,” I said, quoting Monty Python.
This time, the edges of the feathers were my weapons. They began a long, slow trek down Daniel’s ribs. I paid special attention the spaces between his ribs, where I rubbed the blades of the feathers back and forth relentlessly. Daniel launched into another bout of laughter, this time from way down inside his chest. His laugh was low and deep, like the booming of a kettle drum. So… his laughter does get deeper as he gets more tickled, I grinned to myself.
The discovery was beautiful. His laughter was beautiful. I had to have more.
I abandoned the feathers and dug into his sides with my fingers. The volume of Daniel’s mirth increased and he laughed even louder. His torso rocked from side to side, trying to dodge my fingers. Tears started spilling out from under his dark lashes and over his face, which was a mask of ticklish glee.
My fingers eventually found their way to a spot between Daniel’s last two ribs on his left side. The moment I touched that area, Daniel’s voice leapt up two octaves and he bleated with laughter. He arched his back into a semi-circle and started to shake all over. His voice took on a note of desperation as staccato peals of laughter issued forth.
“Is that your tickle-spot?” I asked him, batting my eyes in pretended innocence. “Is that it? Hmm? Did I find your ticklish, tickly, tickle-spot?”
Daniel continued to laugh and scream, too agonized with sensation to speak.
I grinned at him. “I thiiiink I diiiid! I found Daniel’s tickle-spot!”
After a few more moments of torture, I broke off my assault. Daniel looked at me with pleading eyes. “Not that spot, please? Not that spot! I can take anything but that --- No!”
I dived into the same spot again, driving Daniel over the edge, wild with laughter. He started thrashing manically, his begging shooting out in short bursts. “Not! There! Not! There! No-hoooo!!”
I continued my attack and retreat game for a while, tickling Daniel’s vulnerable place on his ribs furiously and then pulling back in time for him to catch his breath. Only about ten minutes of this torture tactic went by, but I’m sure it felt like half a day to Daniel. By the end, he was giggling even during his rest breaks, a loopy smile etched on his face.
I looked at his armpits, slicked with sweat and bobbing up and down as his shoulders heaved in exertion. They were, in a word, beautiful. From a tickler’s perspective, they were absolutely perfect. There was only a thin ribbon of hair running under each arm, the rest of his pits were as smooth as a young girl’s. That was the flesh I next wanted to feel underneath my fingertips.
I started spider-walking my fingers slowly up both of Daniel’s sides, only lightly tickling as I went. He stopped laughing hard, glad for his tickle-spot to be left alone. He calmed down until he was only chuckling softly. Then he saw the predatory gleam in my eyes and realized where my fingers were going. His eyes went wide with dread and he started quaking in fear. “Not the armpits, please?”
“Yes!” I responded, my whole face alight with the zealous desire to tickle his underarms.
He shook his head. “No! I’m so – I’m so – “
I enjoyed Daniel’s unwillingness to admit his own weakness. “You’re what? You’re so what, Daniel? Say it.”
His face crumpled and so did his resistance. “I’m…I’m ticklish! I’m so ticklish there! Please don’t do it! Not under my arms!”
His humble confession made me feel even more cruel. “Say it again, Daniel. Tell me how ticklish you are.”
Daniel screwed his eyes shut and started to sob at the psychological torture of my teasing.
“Tell me!” I ordered.
“Terribly ticklish! I’m – I’m horribly, terribly ticklish in my armpits. I’ll lose my mind!”
“Aw, do you think it’ll make you crazy, little baby?”
I pounced, my nails doing a jig across his silky skin.
Daniel screamed like a man being electrocuted.
I closed my eyes, tickling his yielding flesh by touch only and not by sight. As I drank in the escalating sounds of his ticklish agony, I was in my own state of rapture. I climbed on top of him and rendered him even more immobile. He couldn’t move his upper body; all he had to focus on now was the tactile invasion of my fingers. I covered his armpits in long, firm strokes from top to bottom and he howled. I wiggled my index fingers in the deepest depression of his armpits and he cackled like a witch.
Daniel bellowed with laughter until I heard his voice starting to give out. Then I stopped.
I looked down affectionately at Daniel. His chest was heaving and he was lathered in a sheen of sweat, like a spent racehorse. There were dark spots on the pillows where the wet curls of his hair had soaked them through with perspiration.
I stood and headed into the kitchen for a moment. When I returned, I saw that Daniel still lay, panting, in the same position. He was completely unaware that I had left the room and come back. Whatever was going through in his mind, he was clearly off in a world of his own. He was still shivering and not from cold. His tightly pressed eyelids twitched, and a tortured smile tugged occasionally at the edges of his mouth, as if he couldn’t stop smiling.
He looked adorable. He was a tickler’s dream.
I scooped some ice chips, retrieved from the kitchen, into my hand and fed them to him. I didn’t want him to get dehydrated. He stirred a little and eagerly sucked the icy morsels from my fingers.
I ended up letting him have half the bowl of ice chips. Feeding him took on a sensual quality that I wasn’t expecting. He kept his eyes shut, content to suckle at the ice and then my wet hands like a newborn baby. I began to think that he was sucking my fingers a little harder and longer than need be. It felt good, and I let myself get lost in the sensation for a few minutes. But then I resolved to get back to the business in question. It occurred to me that Daniel was just devious enough to try and distract me from tickling him with lovemaking overtures.
I pulled my fingers from his mouth and danced them, very lightly, under his arms and down his sides again. He grinned widely and started to giggle. But, this time, instead of lurching away from my hands, he stretched out his torso longer and seemed to be luxuriating in my touch. He tilted his head back and let the waves of his own ticklish laughter wash over him.
I was intrigued. I knew there was a point, if the tickling was done right, when the person began to enjoy the ticklish torment despite themselves. They get pushed past the point of ultimate agony and distress into a kind of ecstasy. Scientifically, I knew it had something to do with the endorphins released by laughter. On a much deeper level, I knew it had to do with the very psychology of torture itself. The real goal was not just to break a person, but to bend them to your will.
Was it possible Daniel was already broken?
“Do you like it, Daniel?” I purred. “Do you like it when I tickle you?”
Daniel waited a long heartbeat before answering. Then he squinched up his nose in protest and shook his head vehemently. “No. No, I don’t like it at all.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. He sounded less than convincing.
“Oh, really? Then why are you giggling? Why are you giggling like a maniac if you don’t like it?”
Somehow, Daniel managed to thrust his lower lip out like a stubborn schoolboy while still laughing. “It’s your fault,” he pouted. ”You’re m-making me laugh! I don’t-I don’t want to…but you’re t-tickling me!”
“Confession is good for the soul, Daniel. You’ve already admitted how ticklish you are, and that’s a good start. But, now you have to admit that, deep down, you really like being tickled.” I leaned in closer to his ear. “There’s no shame, you know, in admitting what you enjoy. And, you do enjoy it. We both know that.”
His eyes popped open and Daniel gave me a startled look, full of fear that I had hit upon one of his deepest secrets. Then, just as suddenly, he turned shy and began blushing. He buried his face in his left shoulder, continuing to laugh heartily but refusing to look at me. I thrilled to hear the desperate note creep back into his voice again as he guffawed. He knew I was close to breaking him once and for all.
I grinned myself, anticipating the hellish torments I was seconds away from unleashing on his ticklish flesh. “Since you won’t confess on your own, I’ll have to help you, won’t I? First, I’m going to soften you up – break that stubborn spirit of yours.”
I left Daniel’s upper body and approached his feet. I grasped his bound ankles firmly in each hand and leaned over his naked soles. I unlocked a wild place in myself that I usually keep hidden away, and poured all my voracious tickle-lust onto Daniel’s vulnerable and tender feet.
My mouth went crazy all over him; I started to lick and suck his feet aggressively. I licked the soles of his feet with my raspy tongue, like a cat washing its fur. I nibbled the balls of his feet, causing red, rosy marks to bloom on Daniel’s soft skin. I sucked on his toes as if the world were coming to an end. I sucked on the plump meat of each of his sturdy man-toes, one by one, rolling the digits around in my mouth like candy. The tip of my tongue was the weapon I employed between Daniel’s toes. I flicked the connecting skin between each toe mercilessly and lapped at the undersides and stems of his toes. The high arches of Daniel’s feet were subjected to my ferocious kisses and licking and his heels suffered the same fate. His heels were super-soft and pleated into deep wrinkles with every move he made. He couldn’t stand to have them touched. His feet were smooth, tender luxuries, as well taken care of as those of a rich society matron. I nibbled up and down the sides of his feet, then back to his arches. More attention was then lavished on the balls of his feet. The folds of flesh where the balls of his feet met the soles were the most ticklish places his had. I became drunk from the feel of his skin under my mouth. I tormented those hyper-sensitive ribbons of flesh with my questing, punishing tongue for what seemed like hours.
The effect my teasing mouth had on Daniel was extreme, to say the least. With the first touch of my lips, he started to howl. He wailed like a banshee for longer than I would have thought possible for human lungs to sustain. His laughter was babbling, incoherent, manic. He was so far gone, he couldn’t even beg. He tried to pull his feet away with all the strength he had, but the restraint cuffs and my hands held his ankles solidly in place. He might as well have been welded to the spot. His soles had no escape from my hungry mouth.
Anyone else, at this point, would have been afraid of the intervention of the police. Daniel was screaming like he was being murdered and no one overhearing him would have thought otherwise. Maybe he was screaming to get just such attention and rescue. But I knew, as Daniel did not, that my apartment had previously been owned by a record producer who had dampening materials put in the walls so he could listen to demo tapes and auditioning groups without incurring the wrath of the neighbors. The yowling of the loudest rock singer wouldn’t penetrate my walls and neither would the Daniel’s cries of ticklish agony.
I continued to let him scream.
By the time I wearied of sucking Daniel’s plump toes and looked up, there was a deep, rose flush covering the length of both feet from the heel to toe. That same hue had spread over Daniel’s entire body. Daniel looked at me with a truly pathetic expression.
“Please, no more,” he whispered.
I cocked my head at him. “Aren’t you tired, Daniel?” I asked.
He nodded wearily. “Yes. Very tired.”
I smirked. “No, I mean, aren’t you tired of denying everything? Just tell me that you like it and I’ll stop tickling your feet.”
Even through the depths of his exhaustion, the mischievous, boyish glint returned to his eyes. He wanted me to finish the rest of the game. “I don’t wanna,” he sulked, quietly, like a little kid.
I propped his feet up on my lap and leered at him. “But, I’m gonna make you.”
I attacked his feet with my nails this time, scratching his heels and the balls of his feet simultaneously. This torture was unendurable to Daniel and sent him beyond his limit. He started screeching, laughing harder than I thought possible. I continued dancing and raking my nails across the balls and heels of his feet and then leaned over to blow long streams of breath, first cool, and then hot, over Daniel’s already sensitized arches.
That was when Daniel finally snapped.
It’s difficult to express in words, but I could feel the exact moment when Daniel’s will broke, the very second he surrendered to me completely.
“I like it!” He sputtered out, still howling with laughter.
“I’m sorry – what was that, again?” I asked with mock innocence.
Somehow, despite being wracked by the throes of tickle torture, he managed to look me straight in the eye. “I like it! I admit it; I like it! I-I was lying before! I didn’t want to admit that I love being tickled!!”
“Well, maybe you’re just lying now,” I mused.
“You know I’m not! Please – please don’t stop? It-it feels good! Heaven help me, but it feels so good!!!”
I felt Daniel’s body relax completely, no longer fighting my teasing ministrations. The torment was driving him crazy, but he couldn’t get enough of it. He became my willing tickle slave, passively accepting the torture I visited upon his bare feet.
I grinned, happy to have finally broken his will. “Well, since you like it so much, let’s give you some more then.”
I wet my thumbs in the ice bowl and slowly stroked them up and down the tender arches of Daniel’s feet, pressing deeply to cause maximum effect. Daniel hooted with laughter, his voice an equal mixture of agony and delight. He knew he was being driven to some form of madness, but he no longer cared. I made spiral patterns in his arches, twisting and circling my thumbs relentlessly, pitilessly, into the two ticklish crescents of flesh.
Peals of laughter echoed off the walls. Daniel’s entire body bounced and shuddered in ticklish glee and I continued to torment his arches for a long time.
When I thought his feet had suffered under enough of my attention, I stood up and gave him a friendly slap on the leg. “Well, doctor, I believe your ‘treatment’ is now complete! I’m going to let you go now, kiddo.”
I stood up and went to release his arms from his wrist cuffs. As I attempted to do so, he grabbed my fingers with his right hand. He locked eyes with me. “You’re not…going to leave me like this, are you?” he asked.
I knew that Daniel was referring to the massive swelling in his briefs. He developed a sudden, rock-hard erection the second I first started tickling his feet. I made a point of ignoring it, although I was sure that, by this time, it must be pretty painful for him.
“Not my fault, kiddo,” I said sweetly. “That’s the one place I didn’t touch, so I’m not responsible. Besides, I told you that you would get out of this with your virtue 100% intact. You do want me to be a woman of my word, don’t you?”
“Right now? Not particularly, no,” Daniel said, peevishly. After a moment, his look softened. “Look, I’m not saying this just because I want to get off. I…I think about you. The truth is, I sort of did even back when I was with….”
I laid a hushing finger across his lips. “Shh, don’t.” I gave him appraising look. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Daniel’s eyes were still fixed on me. “I do. I want to make love. Let me show you I can make you happy.”
I stroked his cheek and then patted his wrist cuffs. “That’s so sweet. My own Sir Galahad. But, as long as you’re in my custody, we’re going to do things my way.”
Before he could protest, I fetched a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut Daniel’s briefs right off his hips. As I slid the material out from under his bum, he favored me with a confused look. “What are you doing?” he asked.
I retrieved my two friends, the pointed black feathers, and approached his crotch like a lion stalking prey. “And, to think! You thought what went on before felt good! You haven’t felt anything yet! You’re about to get the tickling of your life!”
Daniel was beyond fear, beyond dread. He didn’t beg for either mercy or release. This was not, I think, because he trusted me. It was simply because he now knew, and accepted, that he was my captive in every sense of the word. Until I let him go, I controlled his body completely: his laughter, his tears, his pain…and his pleasure. He trembled, whimpered and closed his eyes.
I ran the tip of one feather up and down his shaft. With the other, I repeatedly flicked the tender fold underneath the head of his penis. After this assault, I turned the attention of the tormenting feathers to Daniel’s vulnerable scrotum. One feather ravaged his ball-sack, tickling ceaselessly. I slipped the other feather under his scrotum and tenderly tortured the small area of skin in front of his anus.
Daniel, I believe, gave new definition to the word ‘screaming’ that day. He shrieked like a wild animal -- insane with primal screeching, hysterical with laughter. I thought he would pull the wall down.
All in all, I was amazed at his endurance. It took him three whole minutes of torture to come.
A half an hour later, Daniel and I were snuggled in the window seat together. He was still completely and unabashedly naked. He kissed my hair and forehead affectionately while I stroked his chafed wrists, trying to restore his circulation.
“You know,” he said, his voice heavy with a dreamy, almost sleepy quality, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever admitted that – well, that sometimes I don’t mind not being the aggressor.”
I shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, not in theory. The truth is, a lot of women say they like sensitive guys, but they can treat them with contempt in practice. Our society doesn’t look kindly on men who show weakness or passivity.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t happen to think weakness and passivity are exactly the same thing, but I see your point.”
He looked at me meaningfully. “Isn’t that why you don’t tell people you like tickling men to death? Because it’s ‘different’?”
“Half to death,” I corrected, smiling. “You’re still breathing, mister. But, yes, I feel it’s wiser to keep my particular tastes largely to myself. I’m not ashamed, but I don’t broadcast it either.”
Daniel murmured in agreement. “Yeah, I figured there must be a pretty good reason for you to go through such an elaborate ruse.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from quavering.
Daniel chuckled knowingly. “Oh, that’s right. I didn’t get the chance to tell you. The pet kennel called about twenty minutes before you came home. They said you can pick up Geronimo tomorrow at any time.”
I sighed. The jig was definitely up. “Well, it’s just like Sherlock Holmes said, isn’t it? Even the best criminal always makes a mistake. I should have given them my cell phone number….So, you went along with this whole thing, knowing it was a set-up?”
“I didn’t know for most of the day -- as my hours spent scouring the neighborhood will attest to,” Daniel responded with a small note of grumpiness. “After the phone call, I thought you were playing a practical joke or something. I didn’t bust you because I wanted to know what you were up to.”
“Well, now you know!” I laughed.
Daniel bent down and kissed my mouth once, very tenderly. “Yes…now I know. But, I’ll tell you something….”
“What?”
“The next time you see me naked, you and I are going to have a proper go of things. I won’t be the only one coming explosively, I promise you that.”
I looked up at him with a sly, secretive smile on my face.
“We’ll see.”
THE END
I hope you write (and I get to read) many, many more.
