“Ginger, how would you like make $5000 for a half-days work?” I asked Ginger over lunch one day at work. Her eyes lit up and then she cocked her head.
Ginger was my best friend; a tall, beautiful half-Asian girl. “$5000? What do I have to do? It’s not a creepy sex thing, right?”
I leaned in and talked low to her. “Not really. No sex. My ex-husband Jack is totally into tickle torture, and he’s going to pay me a lot of money to video a legit tickle-torture session with someone. He wants me to bring a friend to help me tickle.”
Ginger gave me a totally blank stare. “Are you serious?”
I laughed. “Totally serious. He is really, really into it. I’m paying you $5000 but I’m getting a lot more for setting it up. One of the benefits I get is I get to pick the person we tickle.”
Ginger smiled. “I’m listening”
I told Ginger about Tara, our history together, and how she backstabbed me. “There’s nobody I hate more in this world than I hate Tara. Jack likes his tickle-torture to be really hardcore, so we can’t have any sympathy. The more she suffers, the better he will like it.”
I laid out my plan to Ginger. She listened wordlessly, and in the end agreed more quickly than I though she would. She would be a great student. We agreed to get together at lunch so I could tell her everything I know about tickling, and we agreed kidnap Tara the following week.
Lunch the next day was a cup of yogurt and a meeting outside at a quiet Starbucks. There I spent 45 minutes condensing everything I knew about tickle-torture. I told Ginger about counting ribs, pulling toes back, and best of all, taunting. Jack had sent me a couple videos of what he considered to be expert ticklers working over their victims, and we watched them on my phone and studied their techniques. It was definitely a crash course, but Ginger paid attention. $5000 is a lot of money!
As we drove to the hotel room to set up, I told Ginger we had to be really good. “The only thing that will keep Tara from going to the cops when we’re done with her is the fear that we are going to do it again. We have to be ruthless. OK?”
Ginger nodded. “I’m actually kind of excited to do this. It’s so dangerous!”
We checked out the hotel room Jack had rented and set up. He had spent a lot of time and money, and it was all set. There were stocks at the foot of the bed with toe ties, wrist restraints, a few tickling props, and the camera. He’d also left the choloform we were going to use to knock Tara out.
Getting Tara to meet at the hotel room was easy. I loved the look of shock on her face as I wrestled her to the ground and Ginger clapped the chloroform cloth over her nose and mouth. Tara struggled for only a few seconds, and then went limp.
Ginger and I dragged the petite blonde girl to the bed and locked her up. The wrist cuffs were on a crank, so we could stretch Tara as tight as we wanted, but we left them a little loose at first. We also left her running shoes on – she had just left the gym. A ball gag went in her mouth.
I looked at Ginger. “Are you ready to do this?” I said.
Ginger smiled, I could tell she was excited. “I’m ready to make this the worst day of her life. This bitch is going to suffer”.
Like Jack requested, I started by giving Ginger orders. “Go slap the bitch till she wakes up”
Ginger walked over to Tara snoozing in the stocks, reared back and swung as hard as she could, slapping Tara in the face. I was kind of floored by how mean she was; I could tell there would be no sympathy for Tara today.
Tara awoke with a shock, blinked and looked at Ginger and I, uncomprehending what she was doing tied up and what was going on. We let her panic and stood over her smiling as she screamed silently through her gag.
I loved seeing her so frightened. Words can’t describe how much I hated her. After watching her scream and struggle for a couple minutes, an after she quieted down a bit, I smiled at Tara.
I said one word. “Tickle”.
Tears streamed out of eyes as she sobbed quietly. I let her mind imagine what we were going to do to her for a few minutes. Ginger and I exchanged smiles. This was getting fun!
“Ginger”, I said, “will you tell Tara what kind of tickling she is going to receive?”
Ginger smiled and playfully stroked Tara’s blonde hair. “Tickle torture.”
We both watched Tara’s reaction. It went from puzzled to horror. I don’t think she could fully wrap her mind around what it felt like to laugh non-stop for hours, but she was about to find out.
“Ginger, go cut her shirt off, and stretch her tight.” Ginger took a pair of shears and cut Tara’s workout top off, leaving her in a sports bra. She then slowly cranked the handle, ratcheting Tara’s wrists high over her head, and stretched her one notch away from pain. Tara’s ribs were prominently sticking out; I couldn’t wait to get my fingers on them.
“Good”, I said approvingly. “Now, shoes and socks off, toes tied back”. Ginger went to the stocks at the foot of the bed, and slowly removed Tara’s shoes and socks. Tara’s eyes widened as she felt Ginger gently manipulate her toes into the loops and pulled them tight. Watching Tara struggle helplessly was so amazing.
“OK. Let’s begin. Ginger, you want ribs or feet first?”
“Ribbies!” Ginger squealed gleefully
I turned around, and smiled to the camera. “OK, Jack, here comes some nails on soles. Enjoy!”
We agreed beforehand that whomever was working on Tara’s ribs would handle the majority of the taunting and tickle talk, so Ginger dived right in.
“It’s tickle time, Tara!”, she said happily. “Cootchy cootchy coo!”
Ginger started gently kneading Tara’s ribcage, and I kneeled at her soles and started spidering her bare heels with my long red fingernails. The effect was instant.
Tara screamed through her gag, and after a couple seconds the laughter began.
I learned long ago that tickling feet should be like scratching an itch, and so I gently but firmly scratched Tara’s arches, heels, and the balls of her feet with my nails. I know Jack adores the spot where my mom is the most ticklish, which is where the balls of her feet meet the arch, so I spent some time there.
Ginger was squeezing right above Tara’s hips, or where Jack and I used to jokingly call her “Sonya”. It’s hard to describe how hard Tara was laughing, she was struggling to catch her breath and the gag was keeping her quiet, but I could tell she was in tickle hell.
“Count her ribs!” I ordered Ginger. I grabbed a hairbrush and began brushing the balls of Tara’s feet.
“Certainly!”, Ginger said. She started at the bottom of Tara’s ribcage and gently poked both sides as she sang “One little ribbie.. Two little ribbies... Three little ribbies”
Ginger got to 5, and had walked halfway up Tara’s ribs when Tara went into silent laughter. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as she laughed over and over and over again. Ginger slowly and sadistically walked all the way up to Tara’s armpits as I brushed her helpless arches.
I wanted Jack to hear Tara’s laughter, and she was way too busy laughing to yell for help, so I got up and unbuckled her gag. Tara was laughing so hard, it was almost unimaginable.
“Tickly Tara, tickly Tara! Tickle tickle tickle! Tara’s ribs are so ticklish! Kitchy Kitchy” Ginger kept up the tickle talk, adding to Tara’s misery.
“Let’s switch, Ginger. I want at those ribs. What worked?” I asked.
Ginger stopped tickling and said thoughtfully, “Start at the bottom of her ribcage and slowly work your way up to her pits. I would take about a minute, minute and a half to make the trip up her ribbies and then spend 30-45 seconds on her armpits with my nails. Drives her fucking insane by the time you get to her pits, and then the underarm work once you’re there just kills her. What works on her feet?”
I answered, “God, everything! But it’s like she’s being shocked by a cattle prod when I spidered my nails where the balls of her feet meet her arches. I just stayed there on both feet for 10 minutes and it drove her out of her mind. I used every tool we have, but honestly she will hate your nails the most.”
“But first, Ginger, go use the electric toothbrush on the undersides of her toes.” I ordered as I began tickling Tara’s bare helpless ribcage with my nails. Ginger leapt up and a few second later I heard the buzzing as Ginger carefully explored Tara’s toes with it. Now it was my turn to taunt.
“Tara, we aren’t going to stop tickling you. We are going to tickle and tickle and tickle.” My fingers were flying over her ribs, pinching and kneading, driving Tara insane. Her head was thrashing back and forth, her mouth wide open as she laughed. Ginger had dropped the toothbrush and was zig zagging her nails up and down Tara’s bare soles.
A few minutes later, I said to Ginger, “Let’s double up on her upper body. You tickle her armpits and I’ll work her ribs. Till she pees.” Ginger joined me and we unleashed the most devastating tickle torture ever. We worked as a team, making sure every square inch of her upper body was tickled, both of us talking to her the entire time. Finally, after 15 minutes, Tara could take no more and lost control and Ginger and I happily watched our efforts rewarded with a dark stain forming at her crotch and down her pant leg. We high-fived.
“Let’s tag team her feet now, Ginger. You tickle her toes, and I get her soles”. Ginger stood over Tara’s feet as I kneeled down. Ginger fired up the toothbrush again, and went in between Tara’s helpless toes as I tickled the balls of her feet. I looked back at the camera and sang for Jack, “Nails and soles, nails and soles. I bet Tara wishes that she didn’t have a pair of soles right now!”
Ginger and I worked on Tara’s feet like this for about 20 minutes, Tara was sobbing through her laughter.
We had been at Tara now for over an hour; it was time for the grand finale. Jack loves long nails on helpless soles, and I was going to give him 20! Ginger kneeled down next to me, and for the next half hour we scratched every square inch of her soles with our nails, while peppering our tickle talk with “soles” and “tickle”. Tara was limp as a noodle, just laughing silently. She would have a sore belly tomorrow!
Ginger was my best friend; a tall, beautiful half-Asian girl. “$5000? What do I have to do? It’s not a creepy sex thing, right?”
I leaned in and talked low to her. “Not really. No sex. My ex-husband Jack is totally into tickle torture, and he’s going to pay me a lot of money to video a legit tickle-torture session with someone. He wants me to bring a friend to help me tickle.”
Ginger gave me a totally blank stare. “Are you serious?”
I laughed. “Totally serious. He is really, really into it. I’m paying you $5000 but I’m getting a lot more for setting it up. One of the benefits I get is I get to pick the person we tickle.”
Ginger smiled. “I’m listening”
I told Ginger about Tara, our history together, and how she backstabbed me. “There’s nobody I hate more in this world than I hate Tara. Jack likes his tickle-torture to be really hardcore, so we can’t have any sympathy. The more she suffers, the better he will like it.”
I laid out my plan to Ginger. She listened wordlessly, and in the end agreed more quickly than I though she would. She would be a great student. We agreed to get together at lunch so I could tell her everything I know about tickling, and we agreed kidnap Tara the following week.
Lunch the next day was a cup of yogurt and a meeting outside at a quiet Starbucks. There I spent 45 minutes condensing everything I knew about tickle-torture. I told Ginger about counting ribs, pulling toes back, and best of all, taunting. Jack had sent me a couple videos of what he considered to be expert ticklers working over their victims, and we watched them on my phone and studied their techniques. It was definitely a crash course, but Ginger paid attention. $5000 is a lot of money!
As we drove to the hotel room to set up, I told Ginger we had to be really good. “The only thing that will keep Tara from going to the cops when we’re done with her is the fear that we are going to do it again. We have to be ruthless. OK?”
Ginger nodded. “I’m actually kind of excited to do this. It’s so dangerous!”
We checked out the hotel room Jack had rented and set up. He had spent a lot of time and money, and it was all set. There were stocks at the foot of the bed with toe ties, wrist restraints, a few tickling props, and the camera. He’d also left the choloform we were going to use to knock Tara out.
Getting Tara to meet at the hotel room was easy. I loved the look of shock on her face as I wrestled her to the ground and Ginger clapped the chloroform cloth over her nose and mouth. Tara struggled for only a few seconds, and then went limp.
Ginger and I dragged the petite blonde girl to the bed and locked her up. The wrist cuffs were on a crank, so we could stretch Tara as tight as we wanted, but we left them a little loose at first. We also left her running shoes on – she had just left the gym. A ball gag went in her mouth.
I looked at Ginger. “Are you ready to do this?” I said.
Ginger smiled, I could tell she was excited. “I’m ready to make this the worst day of her life. This bitch is going to suffer”.
Like Jack requested, I started by giving Ginger orders. “Go slap the bitch till she wakes up”
Ginger walked over to Tara snoozing in the stocks, reared back and swung as hard as she could, slapping Tara in the face. I was kind of floored by how mean she was; I could tell there would be no sympathy for Tara today.
Tara awoke with a shock, blinked and looked at Ginger and I, uncomprehending what she was doing tied up and what was going on. We let her panic and stood over her smiling as she screamed silently through her gag.
I loved seeing her so frightened. Words can’t describe how much I hated her. After watching her scream and struggle for a couple minutes, an after she quieted down a bit, I smiled at Tara.
I said one word. “Tickle”.
Tears streamed out of eyes as she sobbed quietly. I let her mind imagine what we were going to do to her for a few minutes. Ginger and I exchanged smiles. This was getting fun!
“Ginger”, I said, “will you tell Tara what kind of tickling she is going to receive?”
Ginger smiled and playfully stroked Tara’s blonde hair. “Tickle torture.”
We both watched Tara’s reaction. It went from puzzled to horror. I don’t think she could fully wrap her mind around what it felt like to laugh non-stop for hours, but she was about to find out.
“Ginger, go cut her shirt off, and stretch her tight.” Ginger took a pair of shears and cut Tara’s workout top off, leaving her in a sports bra. She then slowly cranked the handle, ratcheting Tara’s wrists high over her head, and stretched her one notch away from pain. Tara’s ribs were prominently sticking out; I couldn’t wait to get my fingers on them.
“Good”, I said approvingly. “Now, shoes and socks off, toes tied back”. Ginger went to the stocks at the foot of the bed, and slowly removed Tara’s shoes and socks. Tara’s eyes widened as she felt Ginger gently manipulate her toes into the loops and pulled them tight. Watching Tara struggle helplessly was so amazing.
“OK. Let’s begin. Ginger, you want ribs or feet first?”
“Ribbies!” Ginger squealed gleefully
I turned around, and smiled to the camera. “OK, Jack, here comes some nails on soles. Enjoy!”
We agreed beforehand that whomever was working on Tara’s ribs would handle the majority of the taunting and tickle talk, so Ginger dived right in.
“It’s tickle time, Tara!”, she said happily. “Cootchy cootchy coo!”
Ginger started gently kneading Tara’s ribcage, and I kneeled at her soles and started spidering her bare heels with my long red fingernails. The effect was instant.
Tara screamed through her gag, and after a couple seconds the laughter began.
I learned long ago that tickling feet should be like scratching an itch, and so I gently but firmly scratched Tara’s arches, heels, and the balls of her feet with my nails. I know Jack adores the spot where my mom is the most ticklish, which is where the balls of her feet meet the arch, so I spent some time there.
Ginger was squeezing right above Tara’s hips, or where Jack and I used to jokingly call her “Sonya”. It’s hard to describe how hard Tara was laughing, she was struggling to catch her breath and the gag was keeping her quiet, but I could tell she was in tickle hell.
“Count her ribs!” I ordered Ginger. I grabbed a hairbrush and began brushing the balls of Tara’s feet.
“Certainly!”, Ginger said. She started at the bottom of Tara’s ribcage and gently poked both sides as she sang “One little ribbie.. Two little ribbies... Three little ribbies”
Ginger got to 5, and had walked halfway up Tara’s ribs when Tara went into silent laughter. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as she laughed over and over and over again. Ginger slowly and sadistically walked all the way up to Tara’s armpits as I brushed her helpless arches.
I wanted Jack to hear Tara’s laughter, and she was way too busy laughing to yell for help, so I got up and unbuckled her gag. Tara was laughing so hard, it was almost unimaginable.
“Tickly Tara, tickly Tara! Tickle tickle tickle! Tara’s ribs are so ticklish! Kitchy Kitchy” Ginger kept up the tickle talk, adding to Tara’s misery.
“Let’s switch, Ginger. I want at those ribs. What worked?” I asked.
Ginger stopped tickling and said thoughtfully, “Start at the bottom of her ribcage and slowly work your way up to her pits. I would take about a minute, minute and a half to make the trip up her ribbies and then spend 30-45 seconds on her armpits with my nails. Drives her fucking insane by the time you get to her pits, and then the underarm work once you’re there just kills her. What works on her feet?”
I answered, “God, everything! But it’s like she’s being shocked by a cattle prod when I spidered my nails where the balls of her feet meet her arches. I just stayed there on both feet for 10 minutes and it drove her out of her mind. I used every tool we have, but honestly she will hate your nails the most.”
“But first, Ginger, go use the electric toothbrush on the undersides of her toes.” I ordered as I began tickling Tara’s bare helpless ribcage with my nails. Ginger leapt up and a few second later I heard the buzzing as Ginger carefully explored Tara’s toes with it. Now it was my turn to taunt.
“Tara, we aren’t going to stop tickling you. We are going to tickle and tickle and tickle.” My fingers were flying over her ribs, pinching and kneading, driving Tara insane. Her head was thrashing back and forth, her mouth wide open as she laughed. Ginger had dropped the toothbrush and was zig zagging her nails up and down Tara’s bare soles.
A few minutes later, I said to Ginger, “Let’s double up on her upper body. You tickle her armpits and I’ll work her ribs. Till she pees.” Ginger joined me and we unleashed the most devastating tickle torture ever. We worked as a team, making sure every square inch of her upper body was tickled, both of us talking to her the entire time. Finally, after 15 minutes, Tara could take no more and lost control and Ginger and I happily watched our efforts rewarded with a dark stain forming at her crotch and down her pant leg. We high-fived.
“Let’s tag team her feet now, Ginger. You tickle her toes, and I get her soles”. Ginger stood over Tara’s feet as I kneeled down. Ginger fired up the toothbrush again, and went in between Tara’s helpless toes as I tickled the balls of her feet. I looked back at the camera and sang for Jack, “Nails and soles, nails and soles. I bet Tara wishes that she didn’t have a pair of soles right now!”
Ginger and I worked on Tara’s feet like this for about 20 minutes, Tara was sobbing through her laughter.
We had been at Tara now for over an hour; it was time for the grand finale. Jack loves long nails on helpless soles, and I was going to give him 20! Ginger kneeled down next to me, and for the next half hour we scratched every square inch of her soles with our nails, while peppering our tickle talk with “soles” and “tickle”. Tara was limp as a noodle, just laughing silently. She would have a sore belly tomorrow!
