Allison: A Tickle Model's Nightmare
It was all so easy. The adorable blonde tickle-victim had posted her email right at the top of her page so that her adoring fans could make special requests. Getting her password had taken him a minute, but after decades of government service doing things that polite people don't discuss over dinner, it was only a small obstacle. Reading her email led to an Amazon.com order receipt complete with delivery address...
And then came the waiting. In his nondescript gray Volkswagen he had tailed her too and from her apartment. On his little yellow legal pad in red pen he took notes- when she went to school, what nights she hit the bars, what days she sat at home. He learned her until he could guess with near-perfect accuracy where and when she was.
She was perfect- every inch of her body was exactly what he wanted, and she was ticklish in all his favorite places. At last, after weeks of study, he picked the time to knock on her door.
Allison answered the knock in a pair of tiny denim shorts and a white spaghetti-strap tanktop, barefoot and with her hair still damp from the shower. She opened her mouth to say hello but never got the chance- the white cotton rag that clamped down over her mouth made her inhale sharply and the chloroform rode on the oxygen into her lungs, and that was that.
He nestled his shoulder under her and lifted her up, carrying her up the stairs to her apartment. The blankets and sheets on her bed were crimson and unmade, and with his free arm he pulled them aside and tossed them on the floor. Tying her to the bedposts was simple and efficient with no struggle from her unconscious figure, and soon enough she was spreadeagle on her back.
Two trips down to his car and back up provided him with his little black bag of toys and the three laptops he had brought just for the occasion, and he was just finishing the hook-up of the computers as she began to stir.
"Oh good- you're awake."
He leaned against her dresser and watched as first consciousness and then awareness came to her. She didn't talk, she didn't cry- she gave one tug at her limbs and began to scream- and he let her, for a minute.
"Allison," He said in a stern, command voice, "Stop, or I will gag you. Since you're not gagged in any of your videos, I can only assume you don't like them."
The blonde beauty finished her scream on her exhale but didn't commence again as she took a breath, her frightened eyes looking up at him in his black ski mask and blue latex gloves. "My- my videos?"
He chuckled, shaking his head? "Feigning innocence? No problem."
He turned his back to her and maximized the Windows Media Player that had been minimized on each laptop, bringing up the title screen of 3 videos, "Allisons Upper Body Torture", "Allisons feet in stocks", and "Allison's Hogtied Tickle Torture".
At the sight of them and the memories that they recalled in her, she tugged once again at the restraints that held her to the bed. "I..."
"Am not very good at answering fans?" He interjected, finishing her sentence for her. "You're right, you're not. I asked you several times to make a video for me, and if you didn't want to then a simple 'no' would have sufficed. You must not have had the time... tell me Allison, do you have the time now?"
Subconsciously she squirmed in place, hey eyes looking up at the knots that held her arms up over her head. "I'm sorry- I get so many emails-"
He chuckled again, reaching into his bag of toys and withdrawing his Sony Handycam. "Don't be sorry, Allison. We both win. You get to be rude and blow off paying customers- and I get my video after all."
"Wait-" She began, trying to inch away from him as he walked to the edge of the bed. "I-"
Her words broke down into involuntary giggles as his gloved hand reached out and squeezed her side. "No, I wanted to talk before and you didn't. Now I just want you to laugh."
She opened her mouth to protest but only released another stream of panicked giggles as his fingers curled into her ribs- he knew the exact spot to squeeze and just how hard, and her back arched as she tugged at her bindings and squealed. All she could to is twist from side to side as his second hand joined the first, working along her other side to keep her hysterical.
Her next try to reason with him came as he slung a leg across her hip, pinning them to the mattress under his weight. "Wait- safeword! I only work with a safewo-" Her sentence exploded in helpless laughter as his fingers found the spot in her hips that he had replayed on her video countless times, and her face flushed red as her legs kicked desperately and a curse-word slipped from her lips amidst gales of helpless laughter.
"I am sure you do," He replied. "I have seen all of your videos, and not one has made you truly, truly hysterical... I can only guess that's because of your safeword. Let's see how you do without one."
Allison was in total ticklish agony. Her arms burned from tugging at the restraints and the way he moved from one unbearable spot on her ticklish tummy to another on her ribs was proof of what a fan he was- there was no focus on less ticklish areas, no moment of respite. "Please!" She managed to scream before laughter drowned out the rest of her thoughts, her entire body shaking with the ticklish torment.
"Did you want me to stop on your stomach?" He asked almost innocently.
She knew it was a trick- even in the depths of his carefully planned tickle-hell, she knew it was a trick to give him permission to attack a new spot, but she didn't care. "Yes! Please! PLEASE!"
He paused, and she gulped for air. She no longer had any delusions of reasoning with him- he had come for her and she was his until he was satisfied, and so she spent her glorious moments of rest trying to brace for the next round.
"Now," he continued, more out loud than to her in particular, "One of my favorite places to tickle has been sorely neglected in your videos..."
She watched him slide down off her hips to kneel between her legs, her heart-rate no longer recovering but instead climbing in panicked anticipation. Both her legs tensed as his hands rested on the tops of her thighs, and she prayed he wasn't about to do what she knew deep inside he was.
"And I don't really understand it. You have amazing thighs. Simply works of art. And I bet" He said as his fingers curled into her firm legs, "That they are ticklish."
The pleading poured from her lips like a faucet as she kicked against the bonds on her ankles. She said it was too much to take, that she would do anything if he left them alone. With every new protest his smile grew until she knew she was beyond mercy. The unthinkable was about to happen and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
The first graze of his fingertips along her inner thighs was worse than the entire torment until that point. She screamed and when the scream ended it dissolved into laughter, explosive giggles and high-pitched shrieks that never ended. Up and down her smooth legs his fingers moved, making them shake and twist under his touch as he drove the tickle model out of her mind in true hysterics.
After he stopped it was minutes before her laughter faded. Every time he shifted on the bed she flinched to keep away from his perfect, evil touch as long as possible.
"Allison, I am going to make you a deal. You are my favorite tickle model, but there is someone who deserves this even more than you. Someone on the Tickling Media Forum who deserves to be tickled, played with, have her mind messed with and her spirit tossed on a ticklish tide like a rowboat during Katrina, and taught to beg. You can make a 15 minute video for me willingly and help me get to her... or I can keep you like this for another six hours until your friends will be expecting you at the bar."
"Yes- I'll help you- I swear! Please let me help you!"
He grinned down at his little tickle victim and picked up his bag from the floor beside the bed, laying out feathers and brushes and electric toothbrushes. "Good answer, Allison. Now let's get started with that video."
It was all so easy. The adorable blonde tickle-victim had posted her email right at the top of her page so that her adoring fans could make special requests. Getting her password had taken him a minute, but after decades of government service doing things that polite people don't discuss over dinner, it was only a small obstacle. Reading her email led to an Amazon.com order receipt complete with delivery address...
And then came the waiting. In his nondescript gray Volkswagen he had tailed her too and from her apartment. On his little yellow legal pad in red pen he took notes- when she went to school, what nights she hit the bars, what days she sat at home. He learned her until he could guess with near-perfect accuracy where and when she was.
She was perfect- every inch of her body was exactly what he wanted, and she was ticklish in all his favorite places. At last, after weeks of study, he picked the time to knock on her door.
Allison answered the knock in a pair of tiny denim shorts and a white spaghetti-strap tanktop, barefoot and with her hair still damp from the shower. She opened her mouth to say hello but never got the chance- the white cotton rag that clamped down over her mouth made her inhale sharply and the chloroform rode on the oxygen into her lungs, and that was that.
He nestled his shoulder under her and lifted her up, carrying her up the stairs to her apartment. The blankets and sheets on her bed were crimson and unmade, and with his free arm he pulled them aside and tossed them on the floor. Tying her to the bedposts was simple and efficient with no struggle from her unconscious figure, and soon enough she was spreadeagle on her back.
Two trips down to his car and back up provided him with his little black bag of toys and the three laptops he had brought just for the occasion, and he was just finishing the hook-up of the computers as she began to stir.
"Oh good- you're awake."
He leaned against her dresser and watched as first consciousness and then awareness came to her. She didn't talk, she didn't cry- she gave one tug at her limbs and began to scream- and he let her, for a minute.
"Allison," He said in a stern, command voice, "Stop, or I will gag you. Since you're not gagged in any of your videos, I can only assume you don't like them."
The blonde beauty finished her scream on her exhale but didn't commence again as she took a breath, her frightened eyes looking up at him in his black ski mask and blue latex gloves. "My- my videos?"
He chuckled, shaking his head? "Feigning innocence? No problem."
He turned his back to her and maximized the Windows Media Player that had been minimized on each laptop, bringing up the title screen of 3 videos, "Allisons Upper Body Torture", "Allisons feet in stocks", and "Allison's Hogtied Tickle Torture".
At the sight of them and the memories that they recalled in her, she tugged once again at the restraints that held her to the bed. "I..."
"Am not very good at answering fans?" He interjected, finishing her sentence for her. "You're right, you're not. I asked you several times to make a video for me, and if you didn't want to then a simple 'no' would have sufficed. You must not have had the time... tell me Allison, do you have the time now?"
Subconsciously she squirmed in place, hey eyes looking up at the knots that held her arms up over her head. "I'm sorry- I get so many emails-"
He chuckled again, reaching into his bag of toys and withdrawing his Sony Handycam. "Don't be sorry, Allison. We both win. You get to be rude and blow off paying customers- and I get my video after all."
"Wait-" She began, trying to inch away from him as he walked to the edge of the bed. "I-"
Her words broke down into involuntary giggles as his gloved hand reached out and squeezed her side. "No, I wanted to talk before and you didn't. Now I just want you to laugh."
She opened her mouth to protest but only released another stream of panicked giggles as his fingers curled into her ribs- he knew the exact spot to squeeze and just how hard, and her back arched as she tugged at her bindings and squealed. All she could to is twist from side to side as his second hand joined the first, working along her other side to keep her hysterical.
Her next try to reason with him came as he slung a leg across her hip, pinning them to the mattress under his weight. "Wait- safeword! I only work with a safewo-" Her sentence exploded in helpless laughter as his fingers found the spot in her hips that he had replayed on her video countless times, and her face flushed red as her legs kicked desperately and a curse-word slipped from her lips amidst gales of helpless laughter.
"I am sure you do," He replied. "I have seen all of your videos, and not one has made you truly, truly hysterical... I can only guess that's because of your safeword. Let's see how you do without one."
Allison was in total ticklish agony. Her arms burned from tugging at the restraints and the way he moved from one unbearable spot on her ticklish tummy to another on her ribs was proof of what a fan he was- there was no focus on less ticklish areas, no moment of respite. "Please!" She managed to scream before laughter drowned out the rest of her thoughts, her entire body shaking with the ticklish torment.
"Did you want me to stop on your stomach?" He asked almost innocently.
She knew it was a trick- even in the depths of his carefully planned tickle-hell, she knew it was a trick to give him permission to attack a new spot, but she didn't care. "Yes! Please! PLEASE!"
He paused, and she gulped for air. She no longer had any delusions of reasoning with him- he had come for her and she was his until he was satisfied, and so she spent her glorious moments of rest trying to brace for the next round.
"Now," he continued, more out loud than to her in particular, "One of my favorite places to tickle has been sorely neglected in your videos..."
She watched him slide down off her hips to kneel between her legs, her heart-rate no longer recovering but instead climbing in panicked anticipation. Both her legs tensed as his hands rested on the tops of her thighs, and she prayed he wasn't about to do what she knew deep inside he was.
"And I don't really understand it. You have amazing thighs. Simply works of art. And I bet" He said as his fingers curled into her firm legs, "That they are ticklish."
The pleading poured from her lips like a faucet as she kicked against the bonds on her ankles. She said it was too much to take, that she would do anything if he left them alone. With every new protest his smile grew until she knew she was beyond mercy. The unthinkable was about to happen and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
The first graze of his fingertips along her inner thighs was worse than the entire torment until that point. She screamed and when the scream ended it dissolved into laughter, explosive giggles and high-pitched shrieks that never ended. Up and down her smooth legs his fingers moved, making them shake and twist under his touch as he drove the tickle model out of her mind in true hysterics.
After he stopped it was minutes before her laughter faded. Every time he shifted on the bed she flinched to keep away from his perfect, evil touch as long as possible.
"Allison, I am going to make you a deal. You are my favorite tickle model, but there is someone who deserves this even more than you. Someone on the Tickling Media Forum who deserves to be tickled, played with, have her mind messed with and her spirit tossed on a ticklish tide like a rowboat during Katrina, and taught to beg. You can make a 15 minute video for me willingly and help me get to her... or I can keep you like this for another six hours until your friends will be expecting you at the bar."
"Yes- I'll help you- I swear! Please let me help you!"
He grinned down at his little tickle victim and picked up his bag from the floor beside the bed, laying out feathers and brushes and electric toothbrushes. "Good answer, Allison. Now let's get started with that video."
