SuperNew! "When your husband cums, he's mine" PART 5!! F/f, F/m nonconsentual/adult
Thanks everyone for the great comments. Hope you like the next part.
“Poor, poor baby,” the blond said, stroking Donovan’s sweaty hair out of his eyes, “Why are you putting yourself through this? Its not your fault! You can make this all end.”
Donovan’s only answer was his booming laughter, bellowing in the small room. For a change, though, it wasn’t the blond tickling him. Instead, two new women were at his bare feet, licking his soft soles with their long tongues, and nibbling on the balls of his feet with their sharp teeth.”
“Take my nipple in your mouth,” the blond said in a soft voice, “And they’ll give you a break. I promise.” Her breasts were pressed against Donovan’s cheek, their warm, pliable flesh molding to the side of his face. He could smell their milky fragrance. It traveled through his nostrils and into his brain, even as the tickling shot up his legs and down his spine.
“It’s OK,” the blond repeated, “You know you want them,” Her fingers were stroking his chest, running through his curly hair. When not speaking, her mouth was kissing his neck, nibbling on his ear, doing everything possible to confuse his brain.
“HA AHA AH AHAH NAWWTTT AH AHAHAHHAH NAWWWWWTTT HA AHAH OOOKKKKK HAAH AHAHAHAH NAWWWWTTT HAAHAHAH OKKKKK!!! LORI HA AHA AHA AHAH……”
Donovan couldn’t even finish the sentence because one of the women at his feet had slipped her tongue over his big toe. That made him scream even louder, choking off his words, as his laughter became more forced and raw He hadn‘t gotten a good look at the women at his feet, not even their hair color, but he could tell their tongues were not right. They were rough, like an animals, like sandpaper, and were driving him crazy.
“Don’t hold out for Lori’s sake,” the blond said, running a tender finger on his neck, “She’s the reason you’re in this mess! Its her the mistress wants because of how much she’s bragged about tickling you. Don’t suffer for her!”
Her rock hard nipple was sliding across Donovan’s lips, making him feel the smooth skin, taste her salty skin. She could so easily put it in his mouth herself, as it opened wider and wider because of the torment at his feet, but she didn’t. He had to take the next step, he had to give in to her, to weaken his spirit, and take yet another step to belonging to the Mistress.
“Do it,” the blond commanded the hysterical men, “Just do it and make the agony cease!”
It was at that moment that the television screen above Donovan’s bed clicked on. All tickling and teasing of the man ended immediately. If the screen was on, then the mistress wanted Donovan to watch it, and none of the women would risk distracting him from it. So use to unquestionable obedience of the mistress, it didn’t occur to the blond to even silently question the wisdom of stopping torturing Donovan when he was so close to submitting.
The screen showed a woman, naked except for a pair of pink panties having her belly being tickled by a brunette woman beyond the point of her endurance. The ticklee was close to helpless, with some kind of net or webbing wrapped around her torso and pinning her arms to her side. Only her legs were free to move, and they could only kick violently out of frustration and torment.
For a few minutes, Donovan seemed barely aware of the show as his brain tried to reset from his own torture. Even when he saw it, Donovan didn’t seem able to recognize its importance. Finally, it dawned on him
“Hey,” he cried out, “That’s my wife!”
“Gee,” the blond said with an evil look in her eyes, “I don’t think she’s coming to save you.”
She could see Donovan grow pale. In this sick game that he was forced to play, his only hope of getting out of this hellish place was to have his wife negotiate the obstacle course and reach him before time ran out. If she failed, the price Donovan would pay was unthinkable. And right now, Lori was definitely not succeeding.
They just sat and watched for a minute, listening to Lori squeal like a stuck pig as her belly was pinched and poked through the holes in the netting. The blond sucked up the woman’s suffering like it was candy, while Donovan looked like he might be ill.
“Did you know her belly button was so ticklish?” Donovan’s blond tormentor asked him smugly. Donovan automatically turned his head to face her when she talked, and again had to catch his breath as he stared at her perfect breasts. Despite everything she had put him through, Donovan really wanted to suck those!
“No,” Donovan made himself answer, trying to keep his voice even. “I always focused on her…more fun parts.” He’d be damned if he let the blond hear the panic and despair in his voice, so he kept his voice as light and airy, as if they were discussing the weather, and not his wife’s suffering.
And, truthfully, watching how much the brunette could make his wife holler by just slipping one finger into Lori’s small, fleshy hole, and gently wiggling it, did fill Donovan with regret. Donovan wished he‘d had thought to tickle Lori there during one of their many bedroom games. Lori had always been able to tickle him senseless, but he had never gotten as much reaction out of her as the brunette.
“Men,” the blond said critically, “Always thinking with the wrong head.” She reached out, stroking that wrong head with her index finger, making Donovan moan slightly, yet another drop of pre-cum lubricating the tip.
“Soon, the game will be over. Then, I’ll get to eat you up,” the blond popped her finger into her mouth, sucking off the salty liquid. “You know I can make you cum at anytime. Your body belongs to me. As soon as time runs out on your wife, the Mistress will give me the green light. Then you will belong to her.”
Donovan knew she was right. He had fought the tickling and pleasure forced upon his body with every bit of his will. Still, he had felt his body respond to this woman again and again. Only her following the strange rules made by this Mistress had kept him from spilling his seed. And now, unless his wife somehow got free and made it to this room before the sands all ran out of the hourglass, the rules of this strange game would let her lick and suck his manhood.
“Why me,” Donovan asked, both frightened and longing for the fate she described.
“Blame your wife,” the sound of Lori’s hysterical laughter providing appropriate background noise, “She dragged you into this world of tickling, bondage and sex slaves against your will, and she’s the one the Mistress is interested in. Because of her, you will live out the rest of your days as a plaything.”
Donovan wanted to protest, but the blond cut him off. “You didn’t want any of this. You were just after a cheap lay, some woman to lie underneath you in the missionary position while you thrust into her. Instead, Lori tied you up and tickled you senseless. She never gave you sexual release until after she had dominated you and made you beg for the laughter to stop. Then she bragged about it to her best friend. She did this to you Donovan. Lori’s the reason that you will never leave here.”
Donovan opened his mouth to ask another question, but the blond met it with hers, giving Donovan a deep, passionate kiss, one that left him breathless and wanting more.
“The Mistress knows everything,” the blond said, stroking Donovan’s ear, “Once you belong to her, you’ll understand. There are no secrets from her. But she’s fair. She’ll let you have revenge on your wife, teach you how to make her pay for doing this to you. Then you could be the one making her howl and scream. Would you like that?”
The question horrified and excited Donovan. He shouldn’t want to make his wife suffer. He should want to defend her from these people who tormented both of them so. But part of him did want revenge on Lori, to make her pay for putting him in this position. He had been tickled so much, his feet licked, his penis feathered. If she was to blame, she should pay.
Donovan was saved from answering by an earth shattering silence. Lori’s laughter had stopped flowing from the speakers. On the screen, Donovan could see that Deb was done tickling her belly, was allowing Lori to catch her breath.
“She’s not done yet, is she?” Donovan asked, a bit disappointed. After all he had suffered, Lori’s turn seemed to short.
“Oh, no” the blond said smiling, “Her turn is just beginning. Watch.”
****************
Lori lay flat on her back on the gymnasium floor, exhausted. Her lungs and muscles hurt more than that time she had tried to run marathon for charity. Her only thought was how much she wished she was wearing a blouse or t-shirt right now, anything to put a bit of cloth between her belly and those damned fingers. In a moment, she would want a pair of slacks even more.
“Aww, poor tired, ticklish baby,” Deb taunted, giving her bare foot a quick tickle, “You don’t get to take a nap yet. The fun part is just beginning.”
Lori focused her eyes on her tormentor. She was standing down near her bare feet, holding what looked like a golden bracelet. It was large and garish, at least two inches wide and ¼ an inch thick. Bits of what looked like costume jewelry was stuck all over it.
“Got a big date tonight?” Lori said sarcastically, trying to show more fight than was left in her, “Because I think that bracelet matches your eyes.”
“Oh, its not a bracelet,” Deb said slowly, “And I’m not going to be the one who wears it.” She quickly knelt down and snapped the golden band around Lori’s left ankle. As soon as it closed, the anklet began to glow dimly and emit a slight hum.
Lori felt the effect immediately. Suddenly, it felt like her leg had been chained to a half ton weight! Trying with all her might, straining with every muscle in her thighs and calves, she was able to move her leg less than an inch.
“What the hell is that?” Lori called out, a new fear stabbing through her chest. She couldn’t move her left leg!
“A new invention of the Mistress,” Deb said coyly, “It manipulates gravity or some such thing. Soon, every girl will want one. But don’t you worry. I brought two.” And suddenly, Deb was holding another golden anklet, identical to the first.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Lori pulled her right leg in close to her body. When Deb came closer, she tried to kick her in the mouth, but her leg muscles were still worn out from her belly tickling session. Deb easily caught the leg, held it in place with one arm and snapped on the second anklet.
Suddenly, Lori was no more able to hold that leg up in the air than she would have been able to hold up an elephant. It crashed to the gymnasium floor, the golden anklet making a clanging noise as it smacked into the wooden boards.
Deb reached out and gave both of Lori’s large feet a quick tickle. She broke out into a light giggle, trying desperately to pull her soles away from the fingernails gliding up and down them. Again, Lori found that she could barely budge her legs. She just wasn’t strong enough to shift the tremendous weight she suddenly found strapped to them.
Not that Deb had any problem with it. After tickling Lori’s feet for a few seconds, Deb grabbed Lori’s calves, and pulled her legs out straight. Then she pushed Lori’s legs open wide, spreading them almost as far as they could go. To her, the golden bands seemed to weigh no more than just a few ounces.
Deb stared at Lori’s legs, uncovered all the way up to her pink panties. They were soft and curvy but not fat. Lori grunted with effort as she struggled again to close her legs. The anklets, for her at least, were just too heavy. But leaving them opened made her feel even more vulnerable than she had before, like a turtle caught on its back.
“Don’t wear yourself out, sweetie,” Deb mocked, “Your legs are going to stay open for a while. Just try and enjoy it.”
“Please close them for me,” Lori begged, “Please! You can still tickle me! Tickle my belly again, or my feet! Just close my legs!” She sounded even more frantic than she had earlier.
“We’ve tickled your feet and belly,” Deb said. She placed an index finger on each of Lori’s ankles, just above the golden bands, and slowly began to run them over the inside of Lori’s calves, “I think its time we find some new tickle spots, some places that your poor husband never dreamed of tickling you.”
A smile threatened to creep up on Lori’s face, even as she tried to keep her face expressionless. As Deb kept sliding those fingers up higher and higher, tracing the muscles in Lori‘s lower legs, her legs started quivering, despite the weights on her ankles. The closer Deb got to her knees, the harder time Lori had staying under control.
“Maybe, we should try and tickle you here?” Deb said when her index fingers reached the tops of Lori’s calves. She began squeezing Lori’s knees, right above the kneecaps. Lori sat up immediately, as if she’d been shot out of a cannon and began laughing hard.
“HHA AH AHAHAHAH OHHHH NOOOHOHOHOHOHOO HAH AHAHAH NAWWWWOOOOO PLEEAASSEHEH EHEHEHEHEH AHA AHAHAHAH NAWWOOOOO KNEEEEHEHEHESEEEESSS!!!!”
“Really,” Deb said, feigning surprise, “You’re ticklish here? Are you sure?”
“HHE EHE EHE EH YEEESSSSHE EHEHEHE EHYEEEESSSSSSSS PLEAASSEE EHE EHEHEH DONNNNNN’’’’TTTT HEH EHE EHEHEHEH….” The volleyball net acted like a straight jacket. It kept her arms pinned to her sides, but didn’t stop Lori from twisting and turning her shoulders, or tossing her head from side to side. Lori did all that as the sensation plaguing her knees quickly swept over her entire body.
“You know what I don’t think is fair?” Deb started as if they were two friends having a pleasant conversation on a sunny day, “Why is it only the guys who have to trying and resist having an orgasm? I mean, if they cum, they belong to the Mistress. What about you, dear Lori, what if you cum?”
“HE EHE EHEH EEEEHEEEH!!!!!!!!!!! NAWWWOOOOO HE EHEHEEHEH WONNNN’TTTT CUMMMM HE EHE EHEHEHEHEHEH TOOOOHOOOOOO STRONNNGGG HE EHEHEHEHEHHEH CUMMMMMM FORR YOOUUUU HE EHEHEHEHE!!!!!” Lori blurted out. Deb’s fingers had slipped under her knees, probing that sensitive area, and driving her crazy! Her shoulders were moving forward and back so quickly, it looked like Lori was head banging to “Bohemian Rhapsody”
Lori was barely aware of what she was saying. She denied Deb’s claim without any thought of possible consequences.
“Really!” Deb said in the same fake astonished tone she had used earlier, “I think if I could force you to cum, you should belong to me. Just like your husband Only fair, what do you think?” Her fingers were digging deeper under Lori’s knees, wiggling faster, and forcing even more hysteria to flow from Lori’s mouth.
“HEHEHEHEHE E EEEEHEHEH!!!!!!! TOOOOO HE EHEEHEEEHEH STROOONNNGGGG HE EH EHEHEHEH EHEH TOOOOOO STROONNGGGG FOROROROROOO HE EHEHEHEHH THATTTTT HE EHEHEHEH!!!!! NAWWWT SOME HE EHEHEEHHEHEH WEEEEAAAAAKKKK HE EHEHEHE MAANNNNN HE EHEHEHEHH TOOOOOO STRONNGGG HEHEHEHEH!!!
“Well now, I think that’s a dare I have to try!” Deb stopped tickling Lori’s knees, letting her helpless victim take a short break. Before Lori could so take more than one deep breath, Deb reached between her legs and grabbed the crotch of her pink panties. She then ripped it to shreds as easily as you could tear a piece of paper.
Lori was very nearly bald between her legs. She only had one strip of golden pubic hair, no more than an inch across, running up and down her slit. Lori blushed bright red as her most secret of places was revealed. A cry of protest flew out of her mouth almost immediately.
“Your husband has been showing us his full monty for hours,” Deb said smugly, “I think its time you do the same.” She reached down and gave Lori’s labia a quick stroke, making her squeal.
“Oh god no, you can‘t tickle me there” Lori said, a look of pure panic in her eyes. From the way her leg muscles flexed, it was obvious she was trying even harder than before to force her legs closed.
“Why not,” Deb asked innocently, “You can‘t be ticklish between your legs. Surely you‘re too strong for that.” She had one index finger on either side of that golden strip of pubic hair. Then Deb began to lightly flick each finger up and down.
Lori went wild, screaming and howling at the top of her lungs. Her torso crashed back down to the wooden floor, as if her muscles no longer had the strength to sit up.
“You sure are a ticklish little girl,” Deb teased, after several minutes, “I bet you like this, don’t you Lori? I bet you’d like this even more.” Deb kept her index fingers lightly grazing over Lori’s labia. She started using her middle fingers to wiggle into the crease formed where Lori’s thighs met her body.
Lori was thrust into ticklish hell. Her body started to bounce up and down, like bacon sizzling in a pan. She might have been trying to beg Deb to stop, but Lori was incapable of making any noise that sounded remotely like English. Her animal-like cries echoed off the gymnasium ceiling, and tears started flowing down her cheeks.
And tears weren’t the only thing flowing. Fingers were touching her between her legs. Even though it was agonizing, the tickling, so close to her pussy, was causing Lori’s juices to start flowing. Deb could see the wetness building. There was too little hair down their to disguise it.
“Uh oh, I think somebody is starting to like this,” Deb said mockingly, “I don’t think you want me to stop. Unless you tell me to stop, I‘m going to touch you even more. I‘m going to touch you somewhere no woman has ever touched you before. Unless you tell me not to.”
Lori’s eyes, which had been squeezed shut, flew open. Their was a crazed look to them. She seemed to be trying to do what Deb had said, to ask/beg/demand that her pussy not be touched, but Deb started tickling faster, using a bit more pressure as her fingers traveled over Lori’s most vulnerable of flesh.
The words were again driven from her tormented brain, all that came out of Lori’s lips was a demented cackling that would have done a cartoon villain justice. She desperately wanted to communicate with her assailant, to make her wishes known, but the ferocity of the tickling rendered her speechless.
“Not a word? Well, I guess you really do want to be touched,” Deb said. Keeping her left hand tickling the crease at the top of Lori’s and her labia, she started stroking her right index finger over her slit.
Lori had never been with a woman before or even considered it. Even with Melissa, a close friend with whom she shared a fetish and exchanged stories of tickling their husbands, the idea would have been too weird to contemplate. Now she was being stroked by a woman, her most intimate parts touched and helpless to stop it. And it felt so good.
It was so different than with Donovan. He tried, god bless him, but he was like a blind man painting a picture. Deb touched her with patience and skill, knowing exactly how good this felt, and just what to do to make it even more mind blowing. Deb knew how to play Lori’s body like a musical instrument. And she did.
A moan mixed in with Lori’s hysterical laughter, the pleasure starting to pulsate from her femininity, mixing with the tickling of her labia and upper thigh. She tried to grit her teeth, to choke off her audible signs of pleasure, knowing it wouldn’t work.
“Somebody likes this, somebody likes this” Deb chanted in a singsong voice. She slipped her finger farther inside Lori’s pussy, kept stroking up and down in that slippery pool of wetness.
Lori could feel the warmth building in her loins, the slow build up of rolling thunder that always preceded an orgasm. She concentrated as hard as she could, trying to block the feelings of those fingers between her legs by sheer force of will. But the tickling made it so hard. A giggle here opened her mouth and let one moan after another slip through her defenses.
Deb’s tickling fingers slowed as the one in Lori’s pussy sped up, stroking faster and deeper. Both laughter and pleasure tried to force themselves out of Lori’s mouth at once. The result was a gurgling noise, deep in her throat.
“I don’t like this!” Lori’s thoughts echoed in her brain, “It is icky being touched by a woman! All I want if for her to get her dirty hands off me!” But Lori’s body wasn’t fooled. It craved Deb’s touch, her heart beating faster and faster, her lungs pumping even harder. The flush that had colored her face red spread to her chest, covering her large breasts.
Then, Deb’s soft fingertip touched Lori’s clitoris, and suddenly any effort she was making to resist shattered like a window struck by a baseball. Deb gently swirled it around that soft nubbin, and Lori’s gurgling got deeper, more throaty, and her entire body started quivering.
“I could never make you cum,” Deb said in a sultry voice, “You’re too strong, not a weak man like your husband. No, you’ll never cum for me.” Deb stroked Lori’s clitoris again and again, touching it in that one certain way that made all women turn to jell-o. Soon, Lori was purring like a cat, her body shuddering, shaking like she was out in the cold. It seemed like only the golden weights on her ankles kept Lori’s body from just rolling away.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over Lori. She wasn’t even aware of the tickling anymore. Only her pussy existed, hungered. Only her clit was real, pulsing like her heart. She was losing control, despite her every effort. Her hips thrust forward, as if questing after that finger instead of hiding from it.
“You will belong to me, Lori,” Deb said quietly, “Just as your former husband will belong to the mistress. You will both be owned, like dogs. Tell me, how does that make you feel?”
Lori groaned as Deb picked that moment to slip another finger even deeper into Lori’s femininity. She was almost beyond caring, holding on by a thread, her very soul ebbing out of her like the tide. Lori was being hope of salvation.
Except she wasn’t. Both women were so preoccupied, one in seducing a helpless victim and them other drowning in that seduction, that neither saw Melissa enter the gymnasium through the far door. o neither wondered whose side the mousy woman would take in the clash of wills she suddenly saw in front of her.
Whose side should Melissa take?
Thanks everyone for the great comments. Hope you like the next part.
“Poor, poor baby,” the blond said, stroking Donovan’s sweaty hair out of his eyes, “Why are you putting yourself through this? Its not your fault! You can make this all end.”
Donovan’s only answer was his booming laughter, bellowing in the small room. For a change, though, it wasn’t the blond tickling him. Instead, two new women were at his bare feet, licking his soft soles with their long tongues, and nibbling on the balls of his feet with their sharp teeth.”
“Take my nipple in your mouth,” the blond said in a soft voice, “And they’ll give you a break. I promise.” Her breasts were pressed against Donovan’s cheek, their warm, pliable flesh molding to the side of his face. He could smell their milky fragrance. It traveled through his nostrils and into his brain, even as the tickling shot up his legs and down his spine.
“It’s OK,” the blond repeated, “You know you want them,” Her fingers were stroking his chest, running through his curly hair. When not speaking, her mouth was kissing his neck, nibbling on his ear, doing everything possible to confuse his brain.
“HA AHA AH AHAH NAWWTTT AH AHAHAHHAH NAWWWWWTTT HA AHAH OOOKKKKK HAAH AHAHAHAH NAWWWWTTT HAAHAHAH OKKKKK!!! LORI HA AHA AHA AHAH……”
Donovan couldn’t even finish the sentence because one of the women at his feet had slipped her tongue over his big toe. That made him scream even louder, choking off his words, as his laughter became more forced and raw He hadn‘t gotten a good look at the women at his feet, not even their hair color, but he could tell their tongues were not right. They were rough, like an animals, like sandpaper, and were driving him crazy.
“Don’t hold out for Lori’s sake,” the blond said, running a tender finger on his neck, “She’s the reason you’re in this mess! Its her the mistress wants because of how much she’s bragged about tickling you. Don’t suffer for her!”
Her rock hard nipple was sliding across Donovan’s lips, making him feel the smooth skin, taste her salty skin. She could so easily put it in his mouth herself, as it opened wider and wider because of the torment at his feet, but she didn’t. He had to take the next step, he had to give in to her, to weaken his spirit, and take yet another step to belonging to the Mistress.
“Do it,” the blond commanded the hysterical men, “Just do it and make the agony cease!”
It was at that moment that the television screen above Donovan’s bed clicked on. All tickling and teasing of the man ended immediately. If the screen was on, then the mistress wanted Donovan to watch it, and none of the women would risk distracting him from it. So use to unquestionable obedience of the mistress, it didn’t occur to the blond to even silently question the wisdom of stopping torturing Donovan when he was so close to submitting.
The screen showed a woman, naked except for a pair of pink panties having her belly being tickled by a brunette woman beyond the point of her endurance. The ticklee was close to helpless, with some kind of net or webbing wrapped around her torso and pinning her arms to her side. Only her legs were free to move, and they could only kick violently out of frustration and torment.
For a few minutes, Donovan seemed barely aware of the show as his brain tried to reset from his own torture. Even when he saw it, Donovan didn’t seem able to recognize its importance. Finally, it dawned on him
“Hey,” he cried out, “That’s my wife!”
“Gee,” the blond said with an evil look in her eyes, “I don’t think she’s coming to save you.”
She could see Donovan grow pale. In this sick game that he was forced to play, his only hope of getting out of this hellish place was to have his wife negotiate the obstacle course and reach him before time ran out. If she failed, the price Donovan would pay was unthinkable. And right now, Lori was definitely not succeeding.
They just sat and watched for a minute, listening to Lori squeal like a stuck pig as her belly was pinched and poked through the holes in the netting. The blond sucked up the woman’s suffering like it was candy, while Donovan looked like he might be ill.
“Did you know her belly button was so ticklish?” Donovan’s blond tormentor asked him smugly. Donovan automatically turned his head to face her when she talked, and again had to catch his breath as he stared at her perfect breasts. Despite everything she had put him through, Donovan really wanted to suck those!
“No,” Donovan made himself answer, trying to keep his voice even. “I always focused on her…more fun parts.” He’d be damned if he let the blond hear the panic and despair in his voice, so he kept his voice as light and airy, as if they were discussing the weather, and not his wife’s suffering.
And, truthfully, watching how much the brunette could make his wife holler by just slipping one finger into Lori’s small, fleshy hole, and gently wiggling it, did fill Donovan with regret. Donovan wished he‘d had thought to tickle Lori there during one of their many bedroom games. Lori had always been able to tickle him senseless, but he had never gotten as much reaction out of her as the brunette.
“Men,” the blond said critically, “Always thinking with the wrong head.” She reached out, stroking that wrong head with her index finger, making Donovan moan slightly, yet another drop of pre-cum lubricating the tip.
“Soon, the game will be over. Then, I’ll get to eat you up,” the blond popped her finger into her mouth, sucking off the salty liquid. “You know I can make you cum at anytime. Your body belongs to me. As soon as time runs out on your wife, the Mistress will give me the green light. Then you will belong to her.”
Donovan knew she was right. He had fought the tickling and pleasure forced upon his body with every bit of his will. Still, he had felt his body respond to this woman again and again. Only her following the strange rules made by this Mistress had kept him from spilling his seed. And now, unless his wife somehow got free and made it to this room before the sands all ran out of the hourglass, the rules of this strange game would let her lick and suck his manhood.
“Why me,” Donovan asked, both frightened and longing for the fate she described.
“Blame your wife,” the sound of Lori’s hysterical laughter providing appropriate background noise, “She dragged you into this world of tickling, bondage and sex slaves against your will, and she’s the one the Mistress is interested in. Because of her, you will live out the rest of your days as a plaything.”
Donovan wanted to protest, but the blond cut him off. “You didn’t want any of this. You were just after a cheap lay, some woman to lie underneath you in the missionary position while you thrust into her. Instead, Lori tied you up and tickled you senseless. She never gave you sexual release until after she had dominated you and made you beg for the laughter to stop. Then she bragged about it to her best friend. She did this to you Donovan. Lori’s the reason that you will never leave here.”
Donovan opened his mouth to ask another question, but the blond met it with hers, giving Donovan a deep, passionate kiss, one that left him breathless and wanting more.
“The Mistress knows everything,” the blond said, stroking Donovan’s ear, “Once you belong to her, you’ll understand. There are no secrets from her. But she’s fair. She’ll let you have revenge on your wife, teach you how to make her pay for doing this to you. Then you could be the one making her howl and scream. Would you like that?”
The question horrified and excited Donovan. He shouldn’t want to make his wife suffer. He should want to defend her from these people who tormented both of them so. But part of him did want revenge on Lori, to make her pay for putting him in this position. He had been tickled so much, his feet licked, his penis feathered. If she was to blame, she should pay.
Donovan was saved from answering by an earth shattering silence. Lori’s laughter had stopped flowing from the speakers. On the screen, Donovan could see that Deb was done tickling her belly, was allowing Lori to catch her breath.
“She’s not done yet, is she?” Donovan asked, a bit disappointed. After all he had suffered, Lori’s turn seemed to short.
“Oh, no” the blond said smiling, “Her turn is just beginning. Watch.”
****************
Lori lay flat on her back on the gymnasium floor, exhausted. Her lungs and muscles hurt more than that time she had tried to run marathon for charity. Her only thought was how much she wished she was wearing a blouse or t-shirt right now, anything to put a bit of cloth between her belly and those damned fingers. In a moment, she would want a pair of slacks even more.
“Aww, poor tired, ticklish baby,” Deb taunted, giving her bare foot a quick tickle, “You don’t get to take a nap yet. The fun part is just beginning.”
Lori focused her eyes on her tormentor. She was standing down near her bare feet, holding what looked like a golden bracelet. It was large and garish, at least two inches wide and ¼ an inch thick. Bits of what looked like costume jewelry was stuck all over it.
“Got a big date tonight?” Lori said sarcastically, trying to show more fight than was left in her, “Because I think that bracelet matches your eyes.”
“Oh, its not a bracelet,” Deb said slowly, “And I’m not going to be the one who wears it.” She quickly knelt down and snapped the golden band around Lori’s left ankle. As soon as it closed, the anklet began to glow dimly and emit a slight hum.
Lori felt the effect immediately. Suddenly, it felt like her leg had been chained to a half ton weight! Trying with all her might, straining with every muscle in her thighs and calves, she was able to move her leg less than an inch.
“What the hell is that?” Lori called out, a new fear stabbing through her chest. She couldn’t move her left leg!
“A new invention of the Mistress,” Deb said coyly, “It manipulates gravity or some such thing. Soon, every girl will want one. But don’t you worry. I brought two.” And suddenly, Deb was holding another golden anklet, identical to the first.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Lori pulled her right leg in close to her body. When Deb came closer, she tried to kick her in the mouth, but her leg muscles were still worn out from her belly tickling session. Deb easily caught the leg, held it in place with one arm and snapped on the second anklet.
Suddenly, Lori was no more able to hold that leg up in the air than she would have been able to hold up an elephant. It crashed to the gymnasium floor, the golden anklet making a clanging noise as it smacked into the wooden boards.
Deb reached out and gave both of Lori’s large feet a quick tickle. She broke out into a light giggle, trying desperately to pull her soles away from the fingernails gliding up and down them. Again, Lori found that she could barely budge her legs. She just wasn’t strong enough to shift the tremendous weight she suddenly found strapped to them.
Not that Deb had any problem with it. After tickling Lori’s feet for a few seconds, Deb grabbed Lori’s calves, and pulled her legs out straight. Then she pushed Lori’s legs open wide, spreading them almost as far as they could go. To her, the golden bands seemed to weigh no more than just a few ounces.
Deb stared at Lori’s legs, uncovered all the way up to her pink panties. They were soft and curvy but not fat. Lori grunted with effort as she struggled again to close her legs. The anklets, for her at least, were just too heavy. But leaving them opened made her feel even more vulnerable than she had before, like a turtle caught on its back.
“Don’t wear yourself out, sweetie,” Deb mocked, “Your legs are going to stay open for a while. Just try and enjoy it.”
“Please close them for me,” Lori begged, “Please! You can still tickle me! Tickle my belly again, or my feet! Just close my legs!” She sounded even more frantic than she had earlier.
“We’ve tickled your feet and belly,” Deb said. She placed an index finger on each of Lori’s ankles, just above the golden bands, and slowly began to run them over the inside of Lori’s calves, “I think its time we find some new tickle spots, some places that your poor husband never dreamed of tickling you.”
A smile threatened to creep up on Lori’s face, even as she tried to keep her face expressionless. As Deb kept sliding those fingers up higher and higher, tracing the muscles in Lori‘s lower legs, her legs started quivering, despite the weights on her ankles. The closer Deb got to her knees, the harder time Lori had staying under control.
“Maybe, we should try and tickle you here?” Deb said when her index fingers reached the tops of Lori’s calves. She began squeezing Lori’s knees, right above the kneecaps. Lori sat up immediately, as if she’d been shot out of a cannon and began laughing hard.
“HHA AH AHAHAHAH OHHHH NOOOHOHOHOHOHOO HAH AHAHAH NAWWWWOOOOO PLEEAASSEHEH EHEHEHEHEH AHA AHAHAHAH NAWWOOOOO KNEEEEHEHEHESEEEESSS!!!!”
“Really,” Deb said, feigning surprise, “You’re ticklish here? Are you sure?”
“HHE EHE EHE EH YEEESSSSHE EHEHEHE EHYEEEESSSSSSSS PLEAASSEE EHE EHEHEH DONNNNNN’’’’TTTT HEH EHE EHEHEHEH….” The volleyball net acted like a straight jacket. It kept her arms pinned to her sides, but didn’t stop Lori from twisting and turning her shoulders, or tossing her head from side to side. Lori did all that as the sensation plaguing her knees quickly swept over her entire body.
“You know what I don’t think is fair?” Deb started as if they were two friends having a pleasant conversation on a sunny day, “Why is it only the guys who have to trying and resist having an orgasm? I mean, if they cum, they belong to the Mistress. What about you, dear Lori, what if you cum?”
“HE EHE EHEH EEEEHEEEH!!!!!!!!!!! NAWWWOOOOO HE EHEHEEHEH WONNNN’TTTT CUMMMM HE EHE EHEHEHEHEHEH TOOOOHOOOOOO STRONNNGGG HE EHEHEHEHEHHEH CUMMMMMM FORR YOOUUUU HE EHEHEHEHE!!!!!” Lori blurted out. Deb’s fingers had slipped under her knees, probing that sensitive area, and driving her crazy! Her shoulders were moving forward and back so quickly, it looked like Lori was head banging to “Bohemian Rhapsody”
Lori was barely aware of what she was saying. She denied Deb’s claim without any thought of possible consequences.
“Really!” Deb said in the same fake astonished tone she had used earlier, “I think if I could force you to cum, you should belong to me. Just like your husband Only fair, what do you think?” Her fingers were digging deeper under Lori’s knees, wiggling faster, and forcing even more hysteria to flow from Lori’s mouth.
“HEHEHEHEHE E EEEEHEHEH!!!!!!! TOOOOO HE EHEEHEEEHEH STROOONNNGGGG HE EH EHEHEHEH EHEH TOOOOOO STROONNGGGG FOROROROROOO HE EHEHEHEHH THATTTTT HE EHEHEHEH!!!!! NAWWWT SOME HE EHEHEEHHEHEH WEEEEAAAAAKKKK HE EHEHEHE MAANNNNN HE EHEHEHEHH TOOOOOO STRONNGGG HEHEHEHEH!!!
“Well now, I think that’s a dare I have to try!” Deb stopped tickling Lori’s knees, letting her helpless victim take a short break. Before Lori could so take more than one deep breath, Deb reached between her legs and grabbed the crotch of her pink panties. She then ripped it to shreds as easily as you could tear a piece of paper.
Lori was very nearly bald between her legs. She only had one strip of golden pubic hair, no more than an inch across, running up and down her slit. Lori blushed bright red as her most secret of places was revealed. A cry of protest flew out of her mouth almost immediately.
“Your husband has been showing us his full monty for hours,” Deb said smugly, “I think its time you do the same.” She reached down and gave Lori’s labia a quick stroke, making her squeal.
“Oh god no, you can‘t tickle me there” Lori said, a look of pure panic in her eyes. From the way her leg muscles flexed, it was obvious she was trying even harder than before to force her legs closed.
“Why not,” Deb asked innocently, “You can‘t be ticklish between your legs. Surely you‘re too strong for that.” She had one index finger on either side of that golden strip of pubic hair. Then Deb began to lightly flick each finger up and down.
Lori went wild, screaming and howling at the top of her lungs. Her torso crashed back down to the wooden floor, as if her muscles no longer had the strength to sit up.
“You sure are a ticklish little girl,” Deb teased, after several minutes, “I bet you like this, don’t you Lori? I bet you’d like this even more.” Deb kept her index fingers lightly grazing over Lori’s labia. She started using her middle fingers to wiggle into the crease formed where Lori’s thighs met her body.
Lori was thrust into ticklish hell. Her body started to bounce up and down, like bacon sizzling in a pan. She might have been trying to beg Deb to stop, but Lori was incapable of making any noise that sounded remotely like English. Her animal-like cries echoed off the gymnasium ceiling, and tears started flowing down her cheeks.
And tears weren’t the only thing flowing. Fingers were touching her between her legs. Even though it was agonizing, the tickling, so close to her pussy, was causing Lori’s juices to start flowing. Deb could see the wetness building. There was too little hair down their to disguise it.
“Uh oh, I think somebody is starting to like this,” Deb said mockingly, “I don’t think you want me to stop. Unless you tell me to stop, I‘m going to touch you even more. I‘m going to touch you somewhere no woman has ever touched you before. Unless you tell me not to.”
Lori’s eyes, which had been squeezed shut, flew open. Their was a crazed look to them. She seemed to be trying to do what Deb had said, to ask/beg/demand that her pussy not be touched, but Deb started tickling faster, using a bit more pressure as her fingers traveled over Lori’s most vulnerable of flesh.
The words were again driven from her tormented brain, all that came out of Lori’s lips was a demented cackling that would have done a cartoon villain justice. She desperately wanted to communicate with her assailant, to make her wishes known, but the ferocity of the tickling rendered her speechless.
“Not a word? Well, I guess you really do want to be touched,” Deb said. Keeping her left hand tickling the crease at the top of Lori’s and her labia, she started stroking her right index finger over her slit.
Lori had never been with a woman before or even considered it. Even with Melissa, a close friend with whom she shared a fetish and exchanged stories of tickling their husbands, the idea would have been too weird to contemplate. Now she was being stroked by a woman, her most intimate parts touched and helpless to stop it. And it felt so good.
It was so different than with Donovan. He tried, god bless him, but he was like a blind man painting a picture. Deb touched her with patience and skill, knowing exactly how good this felt, and just what to do to make it even more mind blowing. Deb knew how to play Lori’s body like a musical instrument. And she did.
A moan mixed in with Lori’s hysterical laughter, the pleasure starting to pulsate from her femininity, mixing with the tickling of her labia and upper thigh. She tried to grit her teeth, to choke off her audible signs of pleasure, knowing it wouldn’t work.
“Somebody likes this, somebody likes this” Deb chanted in a singsong voice. She slipped her finger farther inside Lori’s pussy, kept stroking up and down in that slippery pool of wetness.
Lori could feel the warmth building in her loins, the slow build up of rolling thunder that always preceded an orgasm. She concentrated as hard as she could, trying to block the feelings of those fingers between her legs by sheer force of will. But the tickling made it so hard. A giggle here opened her mouth and let one moan after another slip through her defenses.
Deb’s tickling fingers slowed as the one in Lori’s pussy sped up, stroking faster and deeper. Both laughter and pleasure tried to force themselves out of Lori’s mouth at once. The result was a gurgling noise, deep in her throat.
“I don’t like this!” Lori’s thoughts echoed in her brain, “It is icky being touched by a woman! All I want if for her to get her dirty hands off me!” But Lori’s body wasn’t fooled. It craved Deb’s touch, her heart beating faster and faster, her lungs pumping even harder. The flush that had colored her face red spread to her chest, covering her large breasts.
Then, Deb’s soft fingertip touched Lori’s clitoris, and suddenly any effort she was making to resist shattered like a window struck by a baseball. Deb gently swirled it around that soft nubbin, and Lori’s gurgling got deeper, more throaty, and her entire body started quivering.
“I could never make you cum,” Deb said in a sultry voice, “You’re too strong, not a weak man like your husband. No, you’ll never cum for me.” Deb stroked Lori’s clitoris again and again, touching it in that one certain way that made all women turn to jell-o. Soon, Lori was purring like a cat, her body shuddering, shaking like she was out in the cold. It seemed like only the golden weights on her ankles kept Lori’s body from just rolling away.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over Lori. She wasn’t even aware of the tickling anymore. Only her pussy existed, hungered. Only her clit was real, pulsing like her heart. She was losing control, despite her every effort. Her hips thrust forward, as if questing after that finger instead of hiding from it.
“You will belong to me, Lori,” Deb said quietly, “Just as your former husband will belong to the mistress. You will both be owned, like dogs. Tell me, how does that make you feel?”
Lori groaned as Deb picked that moment to slip another finger even deeper into Lori’s femininity. She was almost beyond caring, holding on by a thread, her very soul ebbing out of her like the tide. Lori was being hope of salvation.
Except she wasn’t. Both women were so preoccupied, one in seducing a helpless victim and them other drowning in that seduction, that neither saw Melissa enter the gymnasium through the far door. o neither wondered whose side the mousy woman would take in the clash of wills she suddenly saw in front of her.
Whose side should Melissa take?
Me and my big mouth.
