Filthyweasel
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Hi. I wrote this over the course of the last couple days. It's the first tickle story I've ever written, and I'm usually not one to write in first person, and especially present tense, but I had fun writing it, and thought I'd share. I barely proofread or edited it too, be gentle. I'm thinking I may do a part 2. 
‘Leeway
The driveway approaches, and you turn in and park your car. Your wrenching of the E-brake as you turn the engine off betrays the feelings of annoyance that have been welling up in you for the past week. I’ve been telling you every night to sleep on the couch. The first night, I told you with that wry smile I like to use…the kind I use when I have…mischief…in mind. I definitely wasn’t mad at you for anything, so you agreed. It got you thinking about what I may be up to in the bedroom, but you never did hear anything from outside the locked door, apart from the usual sounds of me moving in my sleep on the bed. The second night, you knocked, and asked what was up, and at that point I did get mad, and yelled to be patient not to do that again! Three nights…four…this was getting ridiculous. It had never really occurred to you that I may have secretly taken days off from my work to do something else while you were out of the house.
Your annoyance mounts as you fight with your things with your keys in your mouth on the front porch. You saw that my car is gone and the house is silent. Strange, I always came home before you. Another subtle alteration to the norm is enough to make your lips purse and your eyes harden, and your keys drop from your mouth. You swear loudly. Some beginning to a ‘relaxing’ weekend off!
And from behind the door, I grin. All is going according to plan for me.
You unlock the front door and step inside. The door slams behind you, scaring you enough to drop all the work papers you took home on the floor. But before you can to another thing, a black gloved hand grabs you from behind while another closes around your mouth. You have a strong will, and I know how you would react to an attack…go for a backward kick between the legs. And so I wrap one leg around both of yours removing any leverage you may have for just enough time to get the all important whisper in your ear, so you know who you are dealing with, and what is about to come.
“You are really, really in for it now…”
The fear in you…pauses…your mind races to accept the new reality, and then you feel it; that tiny ball of excitement getting ready to well up in your sternum. It’s not much yet, but it is enough to almost banish the fright of the encounter. You know it’s me, and you now know that I’ve had something planned all along. That little pinprick in your sternum gets bigger, and your heart starts to race. You now know that you are safe from harm, and give in to the role-play. You go a little limper, yet still struggle a little for my benefit. You are a quick thinker, and if what I’ve been doing all week is preparing for this, you are definitely not going to spoil anything. The annoyance melts away.
My firm grip releases your mouth and moves down to your arms, pinning them behind your back. You rear the ratchets of handcuffs, and feel soft fuzz around your wrists – the ones you bought for our anniversary last year. The excitement starts to bubble all over, going so far as affecting your knees, which nearly buckle.
I steer you over to the couch you have been sleeping on for the past week, and force you onto it, laying face down as I straddle your back. I lean in to whisper yet again.
“Now, before we get down to business, I want you just a little weaker and easier to manage.”
I remove my gloves in front of your eyes. I have fingers that are a little on the bony side, but I know how exactly how softly to use them. I reach under your work blouse, very lightly digging each finger into a specific place, almost like an accordion player about to play. You realize where my fingers have gone, the specific points on either side of your ribs, and your eyes widen. “Oh God, don’t do that plehehee-“
Your sentence immediately descends into helpless giggling as my fingers start to gyrate in their little niches. I barely move them, just wiggling them in place, especially in that spot at the very base of your ribs. You try to wriggle in your position, but to no avail. My thighs and legs hold yours together and I use the rest of my weight to my advantage, keeping you in place, gently yet firmly wriggling my fingers in their spots for a few minutes until you run out of breath.
Then I stop. You gasp and pull in a lungful of oxygen. I lean in to whisper yet again.
“Oh this is not a break…just changing position…”
You can’t even get a word in before the giggling begins anew. My fingers have moved to moved to new tickle spots on your ribs. After all I would not want you to get used to the same spot for long…
After nearly half an hour I stop. The tears are running down your cheeks. Your laughter went silent long ago, broken by a single strangled “STOP!” every now and again. Once more I lean in. “I did that just to weaken you for the next part.” With my right hand I gently steer your chin in the direction I want you to look. With the other hand I point at the bedroom door that has remained closed to you all week long.
That little ball of excitement begins to tickle you from within again, cutting through the numbness I created in your mind. I open a bottle of water, and empty in some of that strawberry flavored energy replenishment powder you like so much, shake it up, and put it to your lips. “To help you get some strength back.” I bite my lip before I end the sentence with the word ‘baby.’ No terms of endearment for you right now. That would plant a seed of mercy. Instead I say something else as you sip down the water. “Now I’ll let you wonder if I added a little secret ingredient to that to enhance your experience.” In actual fact I didn’t do anything, but the placebo effect and mind-fuck do wonders for that tickly little guy in your sternum, which has started to sink lower, tickling other, more sensitive parts. You know I would never do anything to harm you, and God knows you need the drink, so you continue to sip. You try to hide your reaction to my statement from me, but as I gently lie on you, I can feel your heart beat faster through your back and into my own chest.
I help you up, and walk you, wrists still cuffed, to the door, opening it and leading you through. You instantly notice the color of the bed. At first glance, the red satin sheets and the dim lights seem corny, but upon thinking about it, nothing screams ‘erotic fun’ more instantly at the brain than a sight like that. Around the headboard, and a little bit outward from the bed are satin curtains, hiding something else. The footboard is also covered in the same way. I sit you down on the bed and move back to the door, turning a key in what you have now noticed to be a newly-installed lock on the inside of the door. I move over to the window to close and lock a pair of shutters that I’ve also installed. The key, I put in a little safe in the corner.
I can now hear that little excited tickly light within you, in your sudden rapid breathing. Turning from the safe, I see it shining through your eyes as you bite your lower lip in a grin. You now know you can’t get away and with that knowledge, I can even see you visibly shaking a little.
“Now you’re mine,” I simply say. At that point, the excitement breaks out in a little involuntary squeal. You clamp your mouth shut and blush at that.
I sit on the bed next to you and undo the cuffs, dropping them with a muffled clatter to the floor. You allow me to lift your legs up onto the bed, and when I have you lying there, I slowly begin to peel off clothes. You realize that you want me to feel how you are feeling. “Would you like me in some lingerie for this?” you ask.
I look you in the eye, as I pull off the last garment, your panties, leaving you completely open and vulnerable. “You don’t get to wear anything until we’re done,” I say, never once breaking my gaze. My face is deathly serious, but you can see in my eyes that I’m just as excited as you. Your eyes follow me as I move up to the headboard.
“Now, you were probably expecting some leather cuffs right?” You nod. I pull a little cord and the curtains pull back, to reveal what I have really installed. Although they are padded on the inside enough to be very comfortable, your eyes widen to see what are unmistakably steel shackles, chained to plates that are bolted to the wall.
“Oh my God…” is all you can say in a shaky voice.
“They’re custom built. Remember when I measured your wrists a few months back and never told you why?” You had your fun little suspicions when I had done it, but then after some weeks you had assumed nothing would come of it, and it was long enough ago to where you had completely forgotten about it until now. I smile as I lock your wrists in them, one at a time. “They’re perfectly proportioned to keep you right where I want you…you’ll never be able to slip out.”
You can’t help but repeat yourself through clenched teeth in a slightly higher-pitched, very shaky voice. “Oh my God…”
The chains are long enough to where you can thrash around a little without wrenching anything, but short enough to keep your arms above you. I can see your fists clenching and unclenching as they lie helpless at the corners of the bed. I lean in and kiss you softly, and touch a finger to your lips. The finger traces a soft line down your chin, your neck, between your breasts, down the cleft of your abdominal muscles. Very teasingly I use the lightest of light touches over your navel and between your legs, before moving to the foot of the bed. I go to remove the satin sheet from the footboard…
…then surprise you entirely by bending down and attaching yet another padded shackle to your ankle, then your other. I pat the footboard – a muffled sound, not wood. “This is for later,” I say with a grin.
You test your bonds. No escape at all, as I straddle your hips. The grin has not left my lips…instead has gotten a little toothier and mischievous. “I’m now going to make you my slave with two fingers.” I hold up my index fingers. “Are you ready?”
“No…” you begin to say as the giggles begin to flood your lungs before I have even touched you.
“You have the most gorgeous belly…” I say as I start to lightly poke in various random spots all over your abdomen. You can’t hold in the laughter from such evil little pricks of sensation and the giggles get louder, threatening to become belly laughs if not left under what little control you have. I love this, watching you try to squirm away from my fingers. Your laugh becomes more and more musical and girlish and you give into the giggling from such light touches, feeling your control slipping away into utter helpless hilarity. I cannot help but enjoy every squeal that escapes from your lips and beg for mercy as I show you not an ounce of leeway. You continue to beg and your teeth clench as you try your best to resist the laughter show a faint glimmer of fight…before my pokey fingers quickly climb up your sides, up the section of ribcage below your underarms, beside your breasts. That spot is awful for you, and your begging becomes more insistent. I make the touches as light as I possibly can and lean in to your ear once again to whisper in response to your begging...
“I’m not here to negotiate with you…”
Your remaining flimsy dam of control breaks. The awaited belly laugh erupts forth with a loud baleful “Noooooo!” At this point I take all my fingers and let them dance within the hollows of your underarms, giving a little giggle myself as I watch you attempt to thrash around, wrists and ankles held fast by the shackles. My fingers play, feather-light up the underside of your forearms and back down again, until once again you find yourself in that hellish pit of helpless silent laughter. I let up at this point and give you a little breathing space.
“I think you can have about a minute or so,” I say softly, letting you drink a little more from the bottle of water.
“Please give me a little more time, please,” you plead between gasps for air. “This is torture!”
Unfortunately that is the last thing you can say for the moment, as I pull a large red soft-foam ball, about the size of a softball, out from under the bed and stuff it into your mouth, before wrapping an elastic Ace bandage over it and around your head. I giggle a little more with glee at your muffled protests.
“Ball gags look sexy, but don’t want you drooling today,” I say. You give some kind of answer, but I neither know, nor really care much of the details. Instead, I pull out a pair of peacock feathers from that same little hiding place below the bed. Holding them up, I see wide eyes, but once again deep within them I see excitement and perhaps a little relief. I bring them down, closer and closer towards your face, covering your eyes with the eyes of the feathers, remaining that way for a few moments, before moving them to your ears. Your head tries to move out of the way as I flutter them over the sensitive cartilage, and behind the gag I can hear the giggling begin to erupt anew. I thread them down behind your ears and over your neck, watching your eyes screw shut as you squeal and pinch your neck to one side, then the other. Then as you suddenly come up with the bright idea of hiking up your shoulders to protect both sides, I move the feathers straight to your armpits, enticing even more squeals. “No matter what you do to protect yourself, you’ll always leave somewhere else vulnerable…” I whisper into your ear. You react as even my breath stimulates the freshly teased flesh. Soon, I see that by your reactions, you have realized that this form of tickling can be maddening in its own way. I start to move the feathers down to kiss the sides of your breasts, then the undersides.
“Stay very still…or I’ll drop the feathers and get your belly again…” I softly threaten. You comply instantly with a slight whimper. The feathers flutter around your beautiful round breasts and I watch with interest as your nipples harden. With deliberate slowness and care, I run the edges of the feathers around them. Your breathing becomes deeper and a little irregular. “You don’t know how to react to the mix of these sensations, do you?” I tease. “Let me add one more…” I lean down and oh-so lightly pinch your left nipple between my teeth, flicking the tip with the tip of my own tongue, adoring the sounds you make behind the gag…a combination of a giggle and a moan. I continue for a few minutes before switching nipples. The moaning gets a little louder, and I look up into your eyes.
“Now I just want to let you know,” I tell you with yet another wide grin, “whether or not you’re enjoying this, whether or not you orgasm-” I quickly run a feather up between your vulnerable thighs at this, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, “-I really don’t care. I’m not going to deny you anything, and I’m not going to try for anything. I’m just going to tickle…how you feel is your own problem…” I drop the feathers and grab your sides, adoring the sound of your surprised musical squeals for mercy behind your gag. Playfully, I give a very corny evil laugh, just to let you know how much fun I’m having with this.
I move down to your thighs. Your head shakes from side to side, and I know by the very sound of the muffles that you’re trying your best to say “No-no-no-no!” All that talk breaks down into laughter as I squeeze them, alternating the tickles with pinches and prods around your pelvis. By this point I have slipped off you and am sitting next to you, adoring that way the intense tickles in that area make your body buck and twist in frantic attempts to get away.
“You can’t fool me love,” I say, looking directly into your wide eyes as I pause for a moment. “I’m right here, I can see how wet you are from this. You obviously want more. Shall we continue?” I move down to your knees, squeezing and probing, then holding your leg up slightly with one hand so I can run a feather over the tender flesh behind. “Remember that day you fell asleep face down in the yard in ninety-degree weather and got sun burnt there? You had to lie in a cold bathtub just to get relief!” I laugh at the memory of that. “I’m so sure that it made you more sensitive here…” Your reply is a near scream from behind the gag, and your bucking increases to where I have a hard time holding you in that position. “Very well,” I say. “I’m moving steadily down, I’m sure you can see. Getting ready for my own favorite spot…” You shake your head vigorously and mumble more, so I get up and move back to your head.
I unwrap the bandage and remove the gag. “Don’t you dare touch my fehehehe-“ you begin to say, but once again I don’t let you complete the sentence, as I punish you for the mere thought of ordering me to do anything by squeezing your sides, playing special attention to that spot at the very base of your ribcage until you run out of breath. Then I stop, heading once more to the foot of the bed and your right foot. I’m dying to show you what I did to the footboard, but I adore attacking you one foot at a time. You try to move your foot this way and that to the leash limit that the chain gives you, and I sit there, playfully chasing it with my hand and stroking the sole every so often, each time hearing a shrill squeak escape your lips.
“You know why I like going after the feet one at a time like this?” I rhetorically ask. “You have one lonely, vulnerable foot, and I have 2 hands. I can hold your foot with one and use the other, like so…”
I firmly grip your right foot behind the ball and toes with my left hand. “Let’s begin with a little warm up…”
“No wait…” you begin to say, before once again squealing and breaking down into galloping giggles as I scrabble my fingers from heel to ball and back down again. You’ve always known I’ve liked your feet, and have been a wonderful partner to me, allowing me to even administer your pedicures. When I found your kinky streak, I introduced you to my own love of tickling, and you approved after a little…training…to turn what you’d always considered torture into as much of a turn-on as I did. Over the last week I had taken great pains to prepare this room in a manner that you liked as well as me, a private heaven for both of us. I continue to tease your right foot with the random pitter-patter of my fingertips, taking every joy in your laughter as it becomes more and more frenzied. Now is the time to change tactics.
“Or…” I say, suddenly stopping and leaving you panting on the bed, “I can use both hands to hold your lonely little foot, so there’s nothing it can do to get away from…” at this point I audibly clack my teeth together a few times.
A sudden look of panic sweeps across your face. You are completely and utterly helpless, your limbs locked in steel bands that have been built specifically for you, your right foot held in place by my two very free, rather strong hands, and I’m about to nibble. “Please, please, not that. I’ll die, I’ll…”
Once again, I don’t even wait for what you have to say. I talk over you instead. “I’m going to start at the base of the heel and work my way up around the side, up to the ball, and back down again a few times. Is that ok?”
“NO IT’S NOT!” But the nibbling starts and you finish, at once unable to speak. Instead you scream and buck in your bonds as I nibble all around your heel, remaining at that very ticklish spot at the base of the arch for a good few minutes, before moving up the padded outer edge of your foot. At the same time I take advantage of not having shaven much this past week, and bring my chin in to brush against your arch. As I nibble upwards the movement of my lower jaw and chin tickles your motionless arch by default. Your laughter sounds like a madwoman’s. It isn’t the breathy laughter accompanied with tickling the upper body; that kind leaves the lungs a little too quickly, leaving you breathless. That is another reason why I love tickling the feet…the torture can last a little longer between breaks. As I reach the ball of your foot, every sound escaping your lips is shrill, incomprehensible begging. After about ten minutes here I stop and take a look, as your arched back sinks back down onto the bed in relief, and you lie there, beautiful, glistening with sweat. “I love how pink and flushed you feet look now…well the plump little padded bits anyhow. Oh, hang on…I forgot about the toes!”
Once again, a sound of sheer incompressible panic that turns at once into loud laughs as I keep your feet steady and take tiny bites and nibbles, beginning at the pinky toe and moving inward. I do this deliberately…as the toes get bigger so does the amount of flesh available for nibble-torture. In between devilish nibbles, I run a rigid tongue around the underside of the toes. You plead with me to stop, but I do no such thing. Then, almost involuntarily, you yell “I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
I stop, abandoning my feast of your big toe, and look into your eyes. You’re eyes are wide and you know you’ve done something which will have consequences. “I’m sorry, I take it back…”
“Too late!” I say, and immediately begin to nibble my favorite part, and your most ticklish spot: The roof of the ball of your foot. “Oh God no! I take it back, I take it back, please no!” You screech in between lovely loud laughs. Your back arches to the point where I think you may hurt yourself, but you’re a big girl, and so I trust you’ll be fine as I continue the torture for a further ten minutes.
Giving you a little rest, I let you drink more water and mop your brow with a towel to stop the sweat from getting in your eyes. Then I lean down, and whisper in your ear as softly as I can, “Now for the other foot…”
Once you have been thoroughly destroyed by my fiendish nibbling, I draw your attention to the covered footboard. Pulling away the satin sheet, you see that I have installed in its place a thick set of heavy upholstered stocks, finished in red velvet. There are four holes, two for a wide legged position and two for a position with legs together. You gaze on them, and although you are wide eyed, I can see the very enthusiastic smile on your face. “You’re amazing,” you breathe. It’s dawned on you with every surprise uncovered that this is our bedroom now, and we will be playing in it for years to come. That you will never have control of the key, and this place will be your devilish, kinky prison whenever you wish.
“This is the best thing you’ve ever done for me,” I hear you say, as I unlock one ankle, and then the other, placing them in the extremely comfortable, yet inescapable padding of the stocks, securing your big and pinky toes to them with some thin velvet cord.
“That’s a strange thing for a prisoner to say,” I muse. I lock the stocks with a large, very visible padlock, before hiding the key in the same safe I hid the door key. I then pull out a large wooden box from below the bed. “Especially since you’re going to be my prisoner for the remainder of our inaugural weekend, and especially…” I open the box and show you the most devilish selection of custom-designed tickle toys you have ever seen… “since I’m going to use every one of these on you to its fullest…
Your eyes widen again. Your brow starts to sweat once more. The excitement in your sternum bubbles up again.
Then the fun really begins…
‘Leeway
The driveway approaches, and you turn in and park your car. Your wrenching of the E-brake as you turn the engine off betrays the feelings of annoyance that have been welling up in you for the past week. I’ve been telling you every night to sleep on the couch. The first night, I told you with that wry smile I like to use…the kind I use when I have…mischief…in mind. I definitely wasn’t mad at you for anything, so you agreed. It got you thinking about what I may be up to in the bedroom, but you never did hear anything from outside the locked door, apart from the usual sounds of me moving in my sleep on the bed. The second night, you knocked, and asked what was up, and at that point I did get mad, and yelled to be patient not to do that again! Three nights…four…this was getting ridiculous. It had never really occurred to you that I may have secretly taken days off from my work to do something else while you were out of the house.
Your annoyance mounts as you fight with your things with your keys in your mouth on the front porch. You saw that my car is gone and the house is silent. Strange, I always came home before you. Another subtle alteration to the norm is enough to make your lips purse and your eyes harden, and your keys drop from your mouth. You swear loudly. Some beginning to a ‘relaxing’ weekend off!
And from behind the door, I grin. All is going according to plan for me.
You unlock the front door and step inside. The door slams behind you, scaring you enough to drop all the work papers you took home on the floor. But before you can to another thing, a black gloved hand grabs you from behind while another closes around your mouth. You have a strong will, and I know how you would react to an attack…go for a backward kick between the legs. And so I wrap one leg around both of yours removing any leverage you may have for just enough time to get the all important whisper in your ear, so you know who you are dealing with, and what is about to come.
“You are really, really in for it now…”
The fear in you…pauses…your mind races to accept the new reality, and then you feel it; that tiny ball of excitement getting ready to well up in your sternum. It’s not much yet, but it is enough to almost banish the fright of the encounter. You know it’s me, and you now know that I’ve had something planned all along. That little pinprick in your sternum gets bigger, and your heart starts to race. You now know that you are safe from harm, and give in to the role-play. You go a little limper, yet still struggle a little for my benefit. You are a quick thinker, and if what I’ve been doing all week is preparing for this, you are definitely not going to spoil anything. The annoyance melts away.
My firm grip releases your mouth and moves down to your arms, pinning them behind your back. You rear the ratchets of handcuffs, and feel soft fuzz around your wrists – the ones you bought for our anniversary last year. The excitement starts to bubble all over, going so far as affecting your knees, which nearly buckle.
I steer you over to the couch you have been sleeping on for the past week, and force you onto it, laying face down as I straddle your back. I lean in to whisper yet again.
“Now, before we get down to business, I want you just a little weaker and easier to manage.”
I remove my gloves in front of your eyes. I have fingers that are a little on the bony side, but I know how exactly how softly to use them. I reach under your work blouse, very lightly digging each finger into a specific place, almost like an accordion player about to play. You realize where my fingers have gone, the specific points on either side of your ribs, and your eyes widen. “Oh God, don’t do that plehehee-“
Your sentence immediately descends into helpless giggling as my fingers start to gyrate in their little niches. I barely move them, just wiggling them in place, especially in that spot at the very base of your ribs. You try to wriggle in your position, but to no avail. My thighs and legs hold yours together and I use the rest of my weight to my advantage, keeping you in place, gently yet firmly wriggling my fingers in their spots for a few minutes until you run out of breath.
Then I stop. You gasp and pull in a lungful of oxygen. I lean in to whisper yet again.
“Oh this is not a break…just changing position…”
You can’t even get a word in before the giggling begins anew. My fingers have moved to moved to new tickle spots on your ribs. After all I would not want you to get used to the same spot for long…
After nearly half an hour I stop. The tears are running down your cheeks. Your laughter went silent long ago, broken by a single strangled “STOP!” every now and again. Once more I lean in. “I did that just to weaken you for the next part.” With my right hand I gently steer your chin in the direction I want you to look. With the other hand I point at the bedroom door that has remained closed to you all week long.
That little ball of excitement begins to tickle you from within again, cutting through the numbness I created in your mind. I open a bottle of water, and empty in some of that strawberry flavored energy replenishment powder you like so much, shake it up, and put it to your lips. “To help you get some strength back.” I bite my lip before I end the sentence with the word ‘baby.’ No terms of endearment for you right now. That would plant a seed of mercy. Instead I say something else as you sip down the water. “Now I’ll let you wonder if I added a little secret ingredient to that to enhance your experience.” In actual fact I didn’t do anything, but the placebo effect and mind-fuck do wonders for that tickly little guy in your sternum, which has started to sink lower, tickling other, more sensitive parts. You know I would never do anything to harm you, and God knows you need the drink, so you continue to sip. You try to hide your reaction to my statement from me, but as I gently lie on you, I can feel your heart beat faster through your back and into my own chest.
I help you up, and walk you, wrists still cuffed, to the door, opening it and leading you through. You instantly notice the color of the bed. At first glance, the red satin sheets and the dim lights seem corny, but upon thinking about it, nothing screams ‘erotic fun’ more instantly at the brain than a sight like that. Around the headboard, and a little bit outward from the bed are satin curtains, hiding something else. The footboard is also covered in the same way. I sit you down on the bed and move back to the door, turning a key in what you have now noticed to be a newly-installed lock on the inside of the door. I move over to the window to close and lock a pair of shutters that I’ve also installed. The key, I put in a little safe in the corner.
I can now hear that little excited tickly light within you, in your sudden rapid breathing. Turning from the safe, I see it shining through your eyes as you bite your lower lip in a grin. You now know you can’t get away and with that knowledge, I can even see you visibly shaking a little.
“Now you’re mine,” I simply say. At that point, the excitement breaks out in a little involuntary squeal. You clamp your mouth shut and blush at that.
I sit on the bed next to you and undo the cuffs, dropping them with a muffled clatter to the floor. You allow me to lift your legs up onto the bed, and when I have you lying there, I slowly begin to peel off clothes. You realize that you want me to feel how you are feeling. “Would you like me in some lingerie for this?” you ask.
I look you in the eye, as I pull off the last garment, your panties, leaving you completely open and vulnerable. “You don’t get to wear anything until we’re done,” I say, never once breaking my gaze. My face is deathly serious, but you can see in my eyes that I’m just as excited as you. Your eyes follow me as I move up to the headboard.
“Now, you were probably expecting some leather cuffs right?” You nod. I pull a little cord and the curtains pull back, to reveal what I have really installed. Although they are padded on the inside enough to be very comfortable, your eyes widen to see what are unmistakably steel shackles, chained to plates that are bolted to the wall.
“Oh my God…” is all you can say in a shaky voice.
“They’re custom built. Remember when I measured your wrists a few months back and never told you why?” You had your fun little suspicions when I had done it, but then after some weeks you had assumed nothing would come of it, and it was long enough ago to where you had completely forgotten about it until now. I smile as I lock your wrists in them, one at a time. “They’re perfectly proportioned to keep you right where I want you…you’ll never be able to slip out.”
You can’t help but repeat yourself through clenched teeth in a slightly higher-pitched, very shaky voice. “Oh my God…”
The chains are long enough to where you can thrash around a little without wrenching anything, but short enough to keep your arms above you. I can see your fists clenching and unclenching as they lie helpless at the corners of the bed. I lean in and kiss you softly, and touch a finger to your lips. The finger traces a soft line down your chin, your neck, between your breasts, down the cleft of your abdominal muscles. Very teasingly I use the lightest of light touches over your navel and between your legs, before moving to the foot of the bed. I go to remove the satin sheet from the footboard…
…then surprise you entirely by bending down and attaching yet another padded shackle to your ankle, then your other. I pat the footboard – a muffled sound, not wood. “This is for later,” I say with a grin.
You test your bonds. No escape at all, as I straddle your hips. The grin has not left my lips…instead has gotten a little toothier and mischievous. “I’m now going to make you my slave with two fingers.” I hold up my index fingers. “Are you ready?”
“No…” you begin to say as the giggles begin to flood your lungs before I have even touched you.
“You have the most gorgeous belly…” I say as I start to lightly poke in various random spots all over your abdomen. You can’t hold in the laughter from such evil little pricks of sensation and the giggles get louder, threatening to become belly laughs if not left under what little control you have. I love this, watching you try to squirm away from my fingers. Your laugh becomes more and more musical and girlish and you give into the giggling from such light touches, feeling your control slipping away into utter helpless hilarity. I cannot help but enjoy every squeal that escapes from your lips and beg for mercy as I show you not an ounce of leeway. You continue to beg and your teeth clench as you try your best to resist the laughter show a faint glimmer of fight…before my pokey fingers quickly climb up your sides, up the section of ribcage below your underarms, beside your breasts. That spot is awful for you, and your begging becomes more insistent. I make the touches as light as I possibly can and lean in to your ear once again to whisper in response to your begging...
“I’m not here to negotiate with you…”
Your remaining flimsy dam of control breaks. The awaited belly laugh erupts forth with a loud baleful “Noooooo!” At this point I take all my fingers and let them dance within the hollows of your underarms, giving a little giggle myself as I watch you attempt to thrash around, wrists and ankles held fast by the shackles. My fingers play, feather-light up the underside of your forearms and back down again, until once again you find yourself in that hellish pit of helpless silent laughter. I let up at this point and give you a little breathing space.
“I think you can have about a minute or so,” I say softly, letting you drink a little more from the bottle of water.
“Please give me a little more time, please,” you plead between gasps for air. “This is torture!”
Unfortunately that is the last thing you can say for the moment, as I pull a large red soft-foam ball, about the size of a softball, out from under the bed and stuff it into your mouth, before wrapping an elastic Ace bandage over it and around your head. I giggle a little more with glee at your muffled protests.
“Ball gags look sexy, but don’t want you drooling today,” I say. You give some kind of answer, but I neither know, nor really care much of the details. Instead, I pull out a pair of peacock feathers from that same little hiding place below the bed. Holding them up, I see wide eyes, but once again deep within them I see excitement and perhaps a little relief. I bring them down, closer and closer towards your face, covering your eyes with the eyes of the feathers, remaining that way for a few moments, before moving them to your ears. Your head tries to move out of the way as I flutter them over the sensitive cartilage, and behind the gag I can hear the giggling begin to erupt anew. I thread them down behind your ears and over your neck, watching your eyes screw shut as you squeal and pinch your neck to one side, then the other. Then as you suddenly come up with the bright idea of hiking up your shoulders to protect both sides, I move the feathers straight to your armpits, enticing even more squeals. “No matter what you do to protect yourself, you’ll always leave somewhere else vulnerable…” I whisper into your ear. You react as even my breath stimulates the freshly teased flesh. Soon, I see that by your reactions, you have realized that this form of tickling can be maddening in its own way. I start to move the feathers down to kiss the sides of your breasts, then the undersides.
“Stay very still…or I’ll drop the feathers and get your belly again…” I softly threaten. You comply instantly with a slight whimper. The feathers flutter around your beautiful round breasts and I watch with interest as your nipples harden. With deliberate slowness and care, I run the edges of the feathers around them. Your breathing becomes deeper and a little irregular. “You don’t know how to react to the mix of these sensations, do you?” I tease. “Let me add one more…” I lean down and oh-so lightly pinch your left nipple between my teeth, flicking the tip with the tip of my own tongue, adoring the sounds you make behind the gag…a combination of a giggle and a moan. I continue for a few minutes before switching nipples. The moaning gets a little louder, and I look up into your eyes.
“Now I just want to let you know,” I tell you with yet another wide grin, “whether or not you’re enjoying this, whether or not you orgasm-” I quickly run a feather up between your vulnerable thighs at this, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, “-I really don’t care. I’m not going to deny you anything, and I’m not going to try for anything. I’m just going to tickle…how you feel is your own problem…” I drop the feathers and grab your sides, adoring the sound of your surprised musical squeals for mercy behind your gag. Playfully, I give a very corny evil laugh, just to let you know how much fun I’m having with this.
I move down to your thighs. Your head shakes from side to side, and I know by the very sound of the muffles that you’re trying your best to say “No-no-no-no!” All that talk breaks down into laughter as I squeeze them, alternating the tickles with pinches and prods around your pelvis. By this point I have slipped off you and am sitting next to you, adoring that way the intense tickles in that area make your body buck and twist in frantic attempts to get away.
“You can’t fool me love,” I say, looking directly into your wide eyes as I pause for a moment. “I’m right here, I can see how wet you are from this. You obviously want more. Shall we continue?” I move down to your knees, squeezing and probing, then holding your leg up slightly with one hand so I can run a feather over the tender flesh behind. “Remember that day you fell asleep face down in the yard in ninety-degree weather and got sun burnt there? You had to lie in a cold bathtub just to get relief!” I laugh at the memory of that. “I’m so sure that it made you more sensitive here…” Your reply is a near scream from behind the gag, and your bucking increases to where I have a hard time holding you in that position. “Very well,” I say. “I’m moving steadily down, I’m sure you can see. Getting ready for my own favorite spot…” You shake your head vigorously and mumble more, so I get up and move back to your head.
I unwrap the bandage and remove the gag. “Don’t you dare touch my fehehehe-“ you begin to say, but once again I don’t let you complete the sentence, as I punish you for the mere thought of ordering me to do anything by squeezing your sides, playing special attention to that spot at the very base of your ribcage until you run out of breath. Then I stop, heading once more to the foot of the bed and your right foot. I’m dying to show you what I did to the footboard, but I adore attacking you one foot at a time. You try to move your foot this way and that to the leash limit that the chain gives you, and I sit there, playfully chasing it with my hand and stroking the sole every so often, each time hearing a shrill squeak escape your lips.
“You know why I like going after the feet one at a time like this?” I rhetorically ask. “You have one lonely, vulnerable foot, and I have 2 hands. I can hold your foot with one and use the other, like so…”
I firmly grip your right foot behind the ball and toes with my left hand. “Let’s begin with a little warm up…”
“No wait…” you begin to say, before once again squealing and breaking down into galloping giggles as I scrabble my fingers from heel to ball and back down again. You’ve always known I’ve liked your feet, and have been a wonderful partner to me, allowing me to even administer your pedicures. When I found your kinky streak, I introduced you to my own love of tickling, and you approved after a little…training…to turn what you’d always considered torture into as much of a turn-on as I did. Over the last week I had taken great pains to prepare this room in a manner that you liked as well as me, a private heaven for both of us. I continue to tease your right foot with the random pitter-patter of my fingertips, taking every joy in your laughter as it becomes more and more frenzied. Now is the time to change tactics.
“Or…” I say, suddenly stopping and leaving you panting on the bed, “I can use both hands to hold your lonely little foot, so there’s nothing it can do to get away from…” at this point I audibly clack my teeth together a few times.
A sudden look of panic sweeps across your face. You are completely and utterly helpless, your limbs locked in steel bands that have been built specifically for you, your right foot held in place by my two very free, rather strong hands, and I’m about to nibble. “Please, please, not that. I’ll die, I’ll…”
Once again, I don’t even wait for what you have to say. I talk over you instead. “I’m going to start at the base of the heel and work my way up around the side, up to the ball, and back down again a few times. Is that ok?”
“NO IT’S NOT!” But the nibbling starts and you finish, at once unable to speak. Instead you scream and buck in your bonds as I nibble all around your heel, remaining at that very ticklish spot at the base of the arch for a good few minutes, before moving up the padded outer edge of your foot. At the same time I take advantage of not having shaven much this past week, and bring my chin in to brush against your arch. As I nibble upwards the movement of my lower jaw and chin tickles your motionless arch by default. Your laughter sounds like a madwoman’s. It isn’t the breathy laughter accompanied with tickling the upper body; that kind leaves the lungs a little too quickly, leaving you breathless. That is another reason why I love tickling the feet…the torture can last a little longer between breaks. As I reach the ball of your foot, every sound escaping your lips is shrill, incomprehensible begging. After about ten minutes here I stop and take a look, as your arched back sinks back down onto the bed in relief, and you lie there, beautiful, glistening with sweat. “I love how pink and flushed you feet look now…well the plump little padded bits anyhow. Oh, hang on…I forgot about the toes!”
Once again, a sound of sheer incompressible panic that turns at once into loud laughs as I keep your feet steady and take tiny bites and nibbles, beginning at the pinky toe and moving inward. I do this deliberately…as the toes get bigger so does the amount of flesh available for nibble-torture. In between devilish nibbles, I run a rigid tongue around the underside of the toes. You plead with me to stop, but I do no such thing. Then, almost involuntarily, you yell “I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
I stop, abandoning my feast of your big toe, and look into your eyes. You’re eyes are wide and you know you’ve done something which will have consequences. “I’m sorry, I take it back…”
“Too late!” I say, and immediately begin to nibble my favorite part, and your most ticklish spot: The roof of the ball of your foot. “Oh God no! I take it back, I take it back, please no!” You screech in between lovely loud laughs. Your back arches to the point where I think you may hurt yourself, but you’re a big girl, and so I trust you’ll be fine as I continue the torture for a further ten minutes.
Giving you a little rest, I let you drink more water and mop your brow with a towel to stop the sweat from getting in your eyes. Then I lean down, and whisper in your ear as softly as I can, “Now for the other foot…”
Once you have been thoroughly destroyed by my fiendish nibbling, I draw your attention to the covered footboard. Pulling away the satin sheet, you see that I have installed in its place a thick set of heavy upholstered stocks, finished in red velvet. There are four holes, two for a wide legged position and two for a position with legs together. You gaze on them, and although you are wide eyed, I can see the very enthusiastic smile on your face. “You’re amazing,” you breathe. It’s dawned on you with every surprise uncovered that this is our bedroom now, and we will be playing in it for years to come. That you will never have control of the key, and this place will be your devilish, kinky prison whenever you wish.
“This is the best thing you’ve ever done for me,” I hear you say, as I unlock one ankle, and then the other, placing them in the extremely comfortable, yet inescapable padding of the stocks, securing your big and pinky toes to them with some thin velvet cord.
“That’s a strange thing for a prisoner to say,” I muse. I lock the stocks with a large, very visible padlock, before hiding the key in the same safe I hid the door key. I then pull out a large wooden box from below the bed. “Especially since you’re going to be my prisoner for the remainder of our inaugural weekend, and especially…” I open the box and show you the most devilish selection of custom-designed tickle toys you have ever seen… “since I’m going to use every one of these on you to its fullest…
Your eyes widen again. Your brow starts to sweat once more. The excitement in your sternum bubbles up again.
Then the fun really begins…
