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Losing Control m/f and fff/m

bigassman

Registered User
Joined
Aug 31, 2009
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15
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Bud was losing control. He sat there, watching tv, not paying attention to the game. He drank his ninth beer and his rod hardened. His wife, Joy, gave him a look that irritated him, precisely the excuse he was looking for. She wanted to nag him about finding a job, but she knew better and feared him too much to say anything. She was lucky, she was a woman and there were lots of womanly jobs out there. It wasn't his fault that manly jobs were in short supply. What was he supposed to do? Go to nursing school and become a nurse like her? No way, that was a woman's job.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" he asked.

Joy's face turned white.

"Like what?"

"You know. I bet you think I should stop drinking."

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it."

"Don't be unfair. You don't know what I'm thinking."

Bud suddenly stood, teetered a little, and rushed across the room, trapping Joy on the couch.

"I know what you're thinking. You're wondering how long you're gonna have to support us on your salary. You think I'm a failure...I think it's time I violated your constitutional rights."

"No, don't," Joy said, feeling helpless.

Bud, all of 6 ft. 4 in. 230 pounds of him, attempted to pin Joy, all of 5 ft. 2in. 110 pounds of her, but she slipped away from his drunken grasp and fled to the bedroom, slamming the door and locking it. Bud stumbled and chased behind her and rammed into it.

"Let me in there," he said, so horny in anticipation.

He backed up and ran into the door, breaking the frame into splinters and crashing through.

"No, no, don't," Joy wimpered, not wanting to endure another one of his tickle tortures.

He grabbed her, pressed her flat on the bed and used his elbows to pin her arms back.

"I'm going to violate your constitutional rights. I'm going to give you a dose of cruel and unusual punishment."

He pulled her shirt over her head and unbuttoned her bra, revealing her large breasts. He pinned her arms again, and Joy didn't even dare resist, fearing it would make him even more furious. Then he began. His fingers tickled her armpits and ribs. Joy hated the loss of control. Nevertheless, it made her laugh.

"Please, please, Bud," she begged between giggles. "Stop."

This only made Bud even more excited. He tickled her frantically, and Joy laughed hard, tears streaming down her face. The light from the lampshade glistened on her moist cheeks. Then he started saying the thing that humiliated her most of all.

"Don't pee on me now, don't pee on me now," he repeated over and over.

Joy knew there was no fighting it--the mere suggestion combined with uncontrollable belly laughing made her wet her panties, the stream creating a puddle under her buttocks. Bud felt the wet spot with his hand and felt triumphant. He let her move over and take her soaked panties off. As was the routine, he played wither her nipples, then plunged in and ramrodded her.

*********************************************************

The next morning, as Bud lay in bed sleeping it off, Joy went online to learn more about Bud's fetish. She was also concerned with his alcoholism and wondered if the two were related somehow because he never attacked her like that when he was sober. She looked at the clock and saw that she had time--it was nearly an hour before she needed to go to work at the hospital.

She studied all about the tickle fetish. When they first met, she assumed he had a big titty fetish because he seemed obsessed with her big boobs, but she was now certain his tickle fetish was stronger, and it was triggered when he became extremely drunk. Joy was surprised to learn that many men liked to be tickled. She thought about attempting to tie Bud up while he slept, but knew it would be too risky. If he awoke before she had him fastened, she would very well find the situation reversed, and who knew how harshly he'd treat her.

She was almost done when she discovered a website that made her heart skip a beat. It was called the amazon ticklers, a club of dominatrixes, specializing in tickling. Two of the featured dominatrixes were Mistress Babs, and Mistress Victoria. The former was a heavy buxom woman, the latter a female bodybuilder sporting long nails and lipstick. They offered two on one wrestling. They advertised a record of 212-0, having successfully outwrestled, pinned, and tied up every man matched up against them.

A possible solution shined on her. Though it almost made her late for work, she sent her carefully worded request via email.

*********************************************************

Bud was losing control again, this time guzzling whiskey. The doorbell rang much to his annoyance.

"Who the hell is that?" he asked, glaring at Joy.

Joy felt confident this time. She met Mistresses Babs and Victoria several days earlier, and they showed her dvd's of them really defeating men, and the bouts didn't look fake.

"We have guests tonight. And they're going to help you with your problem," Joy said, and she popped up and almost skipped to the door.

"What, what're you doing running to the door dressed like that?" Bud asked, shocked that his wife, wearing a light blue nightie that barely went past her hips, would answer the door without changing to decent clothes. It angered him too because he liked to tickle torture her when she wore that nightie, which was what he was planning on doing.

He stood, teetered.

"And what problem are you talking about. I ain't got no problem," he said, thinking this would further his excuse to torment her.

Mistresses Babs and Victoria marched through the front door, and all Bud could conceive in his drunken state was two large, strong women wearing masks and lots of leather. Joy stood behind them.

"Now Bud, this is for your own good. I think you have a drinking problem and these therapists are going to help me cure you of this sickness."

"They look like rejects from a costume party. Get out of here you skanks."

Both mistresses approached him within arms length.

"In his condition this'll be a cinch," Mistress Victoria said.

"A cinch to what?" Bud asked, totally mystified.

Mistress Babs pushed Bud back.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Bud asked.

He grabbed her hands and pushed back; Victoria squatted low, wrapped her arms around his legs and picked them up and before Bud knew what was happening, they were carrying him to the bedroom.

"Hey put me down. This is ridiculous."

Joy walked next to Bud who was prone and thrashing.

"We're going to violate your constitutional rights," she said.

Bud suddenly realized the plan...and it excited him. His penis hardened, and he felt helpless, a total loss of control...and he liked it even better than when he made Joy lose control.

But he was also afraid.

They laid him on the bed. Babs sat on him, her heavy body pinning him. She held one wrist down with both hands; Victoria held the other wrist down, and Joy took the rope and tied Bud's hands to the bed post, according to the mistresses instructions.

"Get off me. Let me go. HELP! HELP! Somebody HELP!" he yelled in panic, like Joy had never done.

Joy was aroused now too. She loved watching her tormentor lying helpless and scared as she had so many times before.

"Don't worry," Joy said. "We're only going to tickle you."

"No, let me go you freaks."

Babs turned around and planted her big bottom on Bud's chest. She took her fingers and made a tickly motion toward his belly. Much to his embarrassment, he laughed out loud, even though she wasn't tickling him yet.

"Oh, look how ticklish he is. All I have to do is this," Babs said, and she made the finger motions, eliciting more laughter.

All three began really tickling him. Joy chose his feet, Victoria did his neck, and Babs tickled his belly and groin. Babs' tickling felt unbearable. Compared to Babs' tickling, Bud barely noticed the other two women's efforts. Her twirling fingers drove him crazy--he hollered, he guffawed, he begged Babs to stop, but her fingertips relentlessly kept swirlying around his pubic heais. And the masks the women wore

(to be continued)
 
Last edited:
The conclusion

And the masks the women wore frightened him because they hid faces of mystery women with unknown facial expressions. He didn't know who they were or when they would stop.

Mistress Victoria stared at him, the cold, hard impersonal mask hiding who she really was. Her fingers bothered him, but the fat woman...her tickling was too much to take, his belly seized with muscle burn from laughing so hard.

Finally, they stopped.

"What is it you say to me all the time right before you stop tickling me?" Joy asked.

"What, what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"Tell us or we'll start tickling you again," Victoria said.

"No, don't. I know, I know. I say don't pee on me now," he said in a small voice.

"Say it again," Joy said.

"Don't pee on me now."

All three women pulled their panties down and sat on him...and urinated, the warm liquor trickling down his neck, belly, and legs.

Joy held Bud's penis and slowly started rubbing.

"You will stop drinking forever. You will stop drinking forever," she kept repeating.

"I don't want to give it up."

"You will promise to give it up forever, or we'll never let you come," Joy said.

Bud wanted an orgasm so bad that something snapped in his mind. He agreed never to touch alcohol again.

The spud spurted.

********************************************************

And that's how Joy cured Bud of his alcoholism.

Ever since, whe he feels the urge for a drink coming on, he orders Joy to tie him up, and he thinks of Babs. He never bullies Joy--his dominant personality only came out when he was drunk.
 
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