I found this story on the the Hidden Rose Garden site, that doesn't appear to exist anymore. I hope it's alright to post it.
I was wondering if anyone had any later parts?
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Alpha Male
Part 1 - Tied and Tickled
Slowly I let my eyes travel up and down the shivering torsos. Once again I felt the familiar thrill deep in my belly. These boys were going to suffer so beautifully.
Kevin and Sean were tied back to back, hanging in the middle of my living room. Their wrists were tied together and lashed to one of the exposed beams that gave the house that "rustic" look. The curves where their muscular backs dipped inward just above their rumps created a spindle-shaped gap through which I could see the fireplace flickering across the room. Below bound ankles, their bare toes just grazed the carpet, making their position precarious; every time either of them moved, both would lose their tenuous toe-hold and find themselves swinging like hooked fish. A great deal of foul-mouthed cursing would ensue.
"Quit touching my butt," Sean snapped.
Danny's brilliant riposte: "You love it, you homo!"
Ah, yes, the rapier wit of Oscar Wilde. Come to think of it, Danny had just insulted the late king of quips with his outdated slur. I sighed and looked at Amira. She rolled her eyes and shook her head disgustedly. Our boyfriends were in their early twenties: young, to be sure, but not nearly young enough to justify their immature behavior over the past few days. If only these two were as sensible and sophisticated as they were handsome, they'd be the perfect men. Alas, they each had a childish streak, and when they were together the situation grew exponentially worse: they seemed to regress instantly to the level of sixth-grade schoolyard rivals.
But all the same, what charming little pups they were. Danny with his auburn hair, blue eyes, and petulant pout looked even cuter than usual in this position, stretched out as if begging to be tickled. Like Sean, he was shirtless and barefoot; a pair of well-worn bluejeans hung loosely from his hips so that the elastic band of his tightie-whities was clearly visible. Sean, just a smidge taller, was wearing black jeans that nicely complemented his coal-black hair and deep brown eyes. Sean's lightly tanned arms looked darker than they really were next to Danny's creamy skin. Unlike his smooth-surfaced friend, Sean had a smattering of black hair that curled softly across his chest and tapered downward until it disappeared below his waistband, leaving the viewer to imagine for herself what lay at the end of its smoky trail.
"Before we get started," I said, "I want to ask you guys something. Now listen carefully. Do you both understand why you're being punished?"
"Yeah," Danny grumbled. "Because our girlfriends are..." I gave him a challenging stare and his voice trailed off.
"Do you want to finish that sentence, honeybun?" I asked with mock sweetness.
"Uh...our girlfriends are...understandably upset with us because of our bad behavior."
"And what bad behavior is that?" Amira demanded.
Both men remained stolidly silent.
"Don't want to talk, huh?" I observed. "Okay, you don't have to talk. In fact, why don't I gag you both so you don't feel pressured to--"
"No!" Sean and Danny both protested at once. In an instant, our surly swains were falling all over themselves to see who could confess their sins the quickest.
"Okay, it was wrong to elbow him when he was carrying bags up the stairs..."
"We shouldn't have drag-raced, it was stupid and dangerous..."
"I shouldn't have pantsed him in public like that..."
"I'll never, ever challenge anyone to a drinking contest again..."
In silence Amira and I listened to the seemingly endless litany of brainless stunts. At last Amira posed one final question. "Why do you guys have to act like such idiots?"
Sean smirked. "Uh...because we are idiots?" He was trying to make us laugh, probably hoping to soften us up. Instead, we merely agreed that they were idiots, and that there was only one way to get through their thick skulls.
"All right, boys," I announced. "It's showtime."
Ever so gently, twenty manicured nails descended on tender skin. Ten "Fiery Coral" ovals, filed to a moderate length (mine), and ten "Corvette Red" talons that extended well past the limits of practicality (Amira's). Two tightly toned male bellies contracted in shock. Two gasps were stifled behind stubbornly clenched teeth. Four strong shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
Despite his best efforts, Danny's mouth twisted into a grin. I grinned back at him, feeling a rush of fondness. It was always like this in the beginning. The laughter started out sunny and light-hearted, the teasing affectionate. It was all just good, wholesome fun. This was what I liked to think of as Phase One.
As Danny recoiled from my tickling fingers he nudged Sean, who lost his footing. When he recovered his balance Sean angrily jerked his shoulders as if he thought he could somehow retaliate without sabotaging himself. Danny tried to kick Sean--talk about biting off your nose to spite your face--and they both ended up swaying in midair, wrangling ineffectually and shouting insults at each other.
"Will you knock it off, you loser!"
"Cut the shit, Sean!"
"I'm gonna beat the crap out of you..."
"Oh, eat me raw!"
Amira poked Sean in the chest and told him he'd better shut up or he'd be sorry. Roughly I grabbed Danny by the jaw and stared into his eyes. "Not another word out of you. Not one more word, or I swear I'll double your punishment. Do you understand?" Danny immediately clammed up. He looked at me with fear in his eyes and gave me a silent nod. Smart boy. Just the thought of being tickled for two hours straight was enough to make him mind his manners.
The tickling resumed. Once more I marvelled at the sight of two helpless male bodies hanging before me within easy reach. A stranger walking in right then would never have understood what he was seeing. Surely these two petite women could not have overpowered such a pair of strapping young men. And of course we hadn't--not physically, that is. Both men had willingly submitted to this. They knew they had it coming; in fact, in a perverse way I knew Danny almost looked forward to his punishments, because they set things right in a way nothing else could. When I punished him, Danny knew I was in command; and he knew I cared about him enough to do whatever it took to rein him in. I think he was a little scared by his own wildness.
What I don't think Danny fully realized was that for me, there was in fact a selfish angle in all this. I loved tickling him. To put it bluntly, it turned me on; I guess I was a little kinky. Mind you, I don't think it would turn me on to tickle just anyone. It's just that Danny was so cute to begin with, and he was even cuter when he was trembling violently with laughter, muscles forming taut cords as he fought against the ropes that bound his wrists. And he was cuter still when he was heaving with exhaustion, beads of sweat forming on his brow, hearty chuckles turning to plaintive mews--the roaring lion reduced to a helpless kitten.
It wasn't his helplessness, in and of itself, that excited me: it was his helplessness despite being physically powerful. His complete submission would have been downright chivalrous if he weren't so undeniably guity and deserving of his chastisement. If I set that consideration aside, what remained was a kind of gallantry: the white knight kneels before his lady and presents her with a rose plucked from a garden surrounded by fire-breathing dragons--not because the rose has magical powers or because he expects to be rewarded, but merely because she happened to observe that it was pretty, and his sole aim in life is to please her. Danny's self-sacrificial offering meant far more to me than some cheap thrill; it was rather like that rose: a small pleasure, magnified a thousand times by what it represented.
As the minutes ticked by, I saw Danny watching the clock on the wall behind me, and wondered which was worse: knowing how much time remained, or not knowing. The two men giggled and writhed continuously. Each time one twitched the other felt it. When I raised my hands and began digging lightly under Danny's arms, he jerked backwards suddenly and bonked the back of Sean's head with his own. Sean yelled, "Owww! Watch it!" Without thinking, Danny answered, "Sorry." Then his eyes widened and he looked at me. I'd said "one more word."
"That's okay, hon," I reassured him. Punishing him for being polite would be counterproductive.
We tickled them for what seemed like ages without a break. A few times I reached around Danny and tickled Sean's sides. The assault from behind by an unseen attacker made him shriek with surprise. Amira occasionally did the same to Danny. Those moments were priceless. Under the influence of four feminine hands, Danny reacted in a way that seemed calculated to arouse me: he arched his back in an attempt to escape Amira's wiggling fingers, and in the process, thrust his body closer to mine. I responded by removing my nails from his armpits and applying them to the proferred tummy and ribcage. Danny immediately shrank back, making it easier for Amira to reach him. Again and again, he twisted and squirmed but couldn't get away. His cry of frustration signaled an imminent breakdown. Once again, his male defenses were on the verge of crumbling.
I was overwhelmed by an urge to push Danny past his breaking point. "Amira," I said. "Do it again. Keep going." I saw her long fingers reach around and tickle Danny's sides from behind. Again he tried to pull away from her, then backed off when I began a fresh assault on his belly. As Amira and I tickled him, the relentless rhythm of Danny's torment had its usual effect on me. In a flash, I had unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and tugged them down several inches, along with his briefs. Now my fingers had more leeway: I could let them stray down past his hipbones to his groin and the tops of his buttocks. When I did so, the pitch of Danny's laughter increased. Although we were lovers and I'd seen and touched him there a thousand times, it was still a violation of sorts. Where his briefs had been, his skin was unbelievably white--the gleaming white of a secret exposed. We were now entering Phase Two.
Amira looked at me questioningly and I nodded to her to keep going. I would return the favor with Sean later. Right now I was on a mission. We had a rhythm going, Danny, Amira, and I, and I didn't want to break it. As we continued it grew stronger and more insistent, pounding in time with my heart. "Work it out, Danny," I urged silently as he thrashed with all his might, and the words became a chant: "Work... yeah... work... harder! c'mon, work... work... work..." Without realizing it I had begun whispering to him as I tickled. "Oh, yeah... c'mon, boy, you can do it... work it out..." Inside, my blood was pounding through my veins, my heart chugging like a locomotive. Danny's increasing desperation was making me all hot and squirmy. I began to feel as desperate as he, grinding against his thigh in search of relief. Naturally, this added another dimension to Danny's torture; now he was horny as hell and couldn't do anything about it. I tugged his pants farther down and exposed his bobbing erection. He blushed charmingly. Amira kept tickling his sides while I attacked his armpits, then his chest, then his belly, then the sensitive valleys where thigh met groin, then his inner thighs. The ropes that suspended Danny and Sean creaked gently as Danny shook with uncontrollable laughter. Then he went silent and for a while the only sound was the faint squeaking of rope against rope. When he recovered his voice, it was to beg for mercy.
"Oh god... no more... I can't take it... please... "
I clucked my tongue at his naughtiness. "What did I tell you about talking? You're supposed to speak when spoken to."
"AAAHHHH-hahahaha... please, stop... please..."
"All right, that's it," I announced. I retrieved the ball gag from the coffee table. Danny freaked out when he saw it. He hated the gag.
"No... no, please... I'll shut up, I promise..." When I tried to put it in his mouth he struggled, shaking his head from side to side and clamping his mouth shut. Undeterred, I pinched his nose until he opened his mouth to breathe, then quickly shoved in the gag and strapped it tight. He let out a muffled groan of protest. "There, that's better," I observed smugly.
When it was Sean's turn to be twin-tickled, Amira followed my lead and pulled his jeans and boxers down around his thighs.
"Isn't that romantic," Amira taunted. "They're dancing cheek to cheek!" We both burst out laughing. Sean and Danny did look awfully comical, wriggling around with their pants down. "I think they like each other," Amira went on, playing to their homophobia. Both men clenched self-consciously and tried to move away from each other.
I looked sternly at Danny. "Hey, do you have a license to sell hotdogs?" I demanded. I couldn't make out his answer, which was probably fortunate for him. Amira snickered. "Hotdogs? These two? Nahh, more like cocktail weiners." Mercilessly we kept up the constant stream of humiliating comments, tickling all the while. Soon Sean was struggling as frantically as Danny had been a few minutes before. His formerly bubbly laughter morphed into a pitiful howl. After what had happened to Danny, he knew better than to beg, but he had trouble restraining himself and let out the occasional "Ohh, p--" before biting his tongue to squelch the forbidden words. Although the anti-begging restriction increased their discomfort, I rather regretted having imposed it. There was something about a man in the throes of delicious, wiggly, burning, itching agony, raising his eyes to me forlornly and moaning that word--please--that afforded me a decadent pleasure unlike any other.
At last our hour was up. By this time Danny and Sean were utterly exhausted, incapable of struggling or even complaining. I removed Danny's gag and he gasped with relief, stretching his stiff jaw. I stood on a chair and untied the knotted rope that wound several times around the crossbeam, releasing them from their hanging position. Their wrists and ankles were still bound, and between fatigue and the sudden lack of suspension, both men fell clumsily to the floor. Amira and I knelt down and finished untying them. Danny rubbed his sore shoulders, looking up at me in a subtle bid for sympathy. Sean groaned, "Oohhh, man, that was some horrible shit!" Amira just snorted and rolled her eyes.
After a few minutes of this, the guys stood up shakily and began to pull up their pants.
"Not so fast," I said. "We're not quite finished with you yet."
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I was wondering if anyone had any later parts?
-----------------------------------------
Alpha Male
Part 1 - Tied and Tickled
Slowly I let my eyes travel up and down the shivering torsos. Once again I felt the familiar thrill deep in my belly. These boys were going to suffer so beautifully.
Kevin and Sean were tied back to back, hanging in the middle of my living room. Their wrists were tied together and lashed to one of the exposed beams that gave the house that "rustic" look. The curves where their muscular backs dipped inward just above their rumps created a spindle-shaped gap through which I could see the fireplace flickering across the room. Below bound ankles, their bare toes just grazed the carpet, making their position precarious; every time either of them moved, both would lose their tenuous toe-hold and find themselves swinging like hooked fish. A great deal of foul-mouthed cursing would ensue.
"Quit touching my butt," Sean snapped.
Danny's brilliant riposte: "You love it, you homo!"
Ah, yes, the rapier wit of Oscar Wilde. Come to think of it, Danny had just insulted the late king of quips with his outdated slur. I sighed and looked at Amira. She rolled her eyes and shook her head disgustedly. Our boyfriends were in their early twenties: young, to be sure, but not nearly young enough to justify their immature behavior over the past few days. If only these two were as sensible and sophisticated as they were handsome, they'd be the perfect men. Alas, they each had a childish streak, and when they were together the situation grew exponentially worse: they seemed to regress instantly to the level of sixth-grade schoolyard rivals.
But all the same, what charming little pups they were. Danny with his auburn hair, blue eyes, and petulant pout looked even cuter than usual in this position, stretched out as if begging to be tickled. Like Sean, he was shirtless and barefoot; a pair of well-worn bluejeans hung loosely from his hips so that the elastic band of his tightie-whities was clearly visible. Sean, just a smidge taller, was wearing black jeans that nicely complemented his coal-black hair and deep brown eyes. Sean's lightly tanned arms looked darker than they really were next to Danny's creamy skin. Unlike his smooth-surfaced friend, Sean had a smattering of black hair that curled softly across his chest and tapered downward until it disappeared below his waistband, leaving the viewer to imagine for herself what lay at the end of its smoky trail.
"Before we get started," I said, "I want to ask you guys something. Now listen carefully. Do you both understand why you're being punished?"
"Yeah," Danny grumbled. "Because our girlfriends are..." I gave him a challenging stare and his voice trailed off.
"Do you want to finish that sentence, honeybun?" I asked with mock sweetness.
"Uh...our girlfriends are...understandably upset with us because of our bad behavior."
"And what bad behavior is that?" Amira demanded.
Both men remained stolidly silent.
"Don't want to talk, huh?" I observed. "Okay, you don't have to talk. In fact, why don't I gag you both so you don't feel pressured to--"
"No!" Sean and Danny both protested at once. In an instant, our surly swains were falling all over themselves to see who could confess their sins the quickest.
"Okay, it was wrong to elbow him when he was carrying bags up the stairs..."
"We shouldn't have drag-raced, it was stupid and dangerous..."
"I shouldn't have pantsed him in public like that..."
"I'll never, ever challenge anyone to a drinking contest again..."
In silence Amira and I listened to the seemingly endless litany of brainless stunts. At last Amira posed one final question. "Why do you guys have to act like such idiots?"
Sean smirked. "Uh...because we are idiots?" He was trying to make us laugh, probably hoping to soften us up. Instead, we merely agreed that they were idiots, and that there was only one way to get through their thick skulls.
"All right, boys," I announced. "It's showtime."
Ever so gently, twenty manicured nails descended on tender skin. Ten "Fiery Coral" ovals, filed to a moderate length (mine), and ten "Corvette Red" talons that extended well past the limits of practicality (Amira's). Two tightly toned male bellies contracted in shock. Two gasps were stifled behind stubbornly clenched teeth. Four strong shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
Despite his best efforts, Danny's mouth twisted into a grin. I grinned back at him, feeling a rush of fondness. It was always like this in the beginning. The laughter started out sunny and light-hearted, the teasing affectionate. It was all just good, wholesome fun. This was what I liked to think of as Phase One.
As Danny recoiled from my tickling fingers he nudged Sean, who lost his footing. When he recovered his balance Sean angrily jerked his shoulders as if he thought he could somehow retaliate without sabotaging himself. Danny tried to kick Sean--talk about biting off your nose to spite your face--and they both ended up swaying in midair, wrangling ineffectually and shouting insults at each other.
"Will you knock it off, you loser!"
"Cut the shit, Sean!"
"I'm gonna beat the crap out of you..."
"Oh, eat me raw!"
Amira poked Sean in the chest and told him he'd better shut up or he'd be sorry. Roughly I grabbed Danny by the jaw and stared into his eyes. "Not another word out of you. Not one more word, or I swear I'll double your punishment. Do you understand?" Danny immediately clammed up. He looked at me with fear in his eyes and gave me a silent nod. Smart boy. Just the thought of being tickled for two hours straight was enough to make him mind his manners.
The tickling resumed. Once more I marvelled at the sight of two helpless male bodies hanging before me within easy reach. A stranger walking in right then would never have understood what he was seeing. Surely these two petite women could not have overpowered such a pair of strapping young men. And of course we hadn't--not physically, that is. Both men had willingly submitted to this. They knew they had it coming; in fact, in a perverse way I knew Danny almost looked forward to his punishments, because they set things right in a way nothing else could. When I punished him, Danny knew I was in command; and he knew I cared about him enough to do whatever it took to rein him in. I think he was a little scared by his own wildness.
What I don't think Danny fully realized was that for me, there was in fact a selfish angle in all this. I loved tickling him. To put it bluntly, it turned me on; I guess I was a little kinky. Mind you, I don't think it would turn me on to tickle just anyone. It's just that Danny was so cute to begin with, and he was even cuter when he was trembling violently with laughter, muscles forming taut cords as he fought against the ropes that bound his wrists. And he was cuter still when he was heaving with exhaustion, beads of sweat forming on his brow, hearty chuckles turning to plaintive mews--the roaring lion reduced to a helpless kitten.
It wasn't his helplessness, in and of itself, that excited me: it was his helplessness despite being physically powerful. His complete submission would have been downright chivalrous if he weren't so undeniably guity and deserving of his chastisement. If I set that consideration aside, what remained was a kind of gallantry: the white knight kneels before his lady and presents her with a rose plucked from a garden surrounded by fire-breathing dragons--not because the rose has magical powers or because he expects to be rewarded, but merely because she happened to observe that it was pretty, and his sole aim in life is to please her. Danny's self-sacrificial offering meant far more to me than some cheap thrill; it was rather like that rose: a small pleasure, magnified a thousand times by what it represented.
As the minutes ticked by, I saw Danny watching the clock on the wall behind me, and wondered which was worse: knowing how much time remained, or not knowing. The two men giggled and writhed continuously. Each time one twitched the other felt it. When I raised my hands and began digging lightly under Danny's arms, he jerked backwards suddenly and bonked the back of Sean's head with his own. Sean yelled, "Owww! Watch it!" Without thinking, Danny answered, "Sorry." Then his eyes widened and he looked at me. I'd said "one more word."
"That's okay, hon," I reassured him. Punishing him for being polite would be counterproductive.
We tickled them for what seemed like ages without a break. A few times I reached around Danny and tickled Sean's sides. The assault from behind by an unseen attacker made him shriek with surprise. Amira occasionally did the same to Danny. Those moments were priceless. Under the influence of four feminine hands, Danny reacted in a way that seemed calculated to arouse me: he arched his back in an attempt to escape Amira's wiggling fingers, and in the process, thrust his body closer to mine. I responded by removing my nails from his armpits and applying them to the proferred tummy and ribcage. Danny immediately shrank back, making it easier for Amira to reach him. Again and again, he twisted and squirmed but couldn't get away. His cry of frustration signaled an imminent breakdown. Once again, his male defenses were on the verge of crumbling.
I was overwhelmed by an urge to push Danny past his breaking point. "Amira," I said. "Do it again. Keep going." I saw her long fingers reach around and tickle Danny's sides from behind. Again he tried to pull away from her, then backed off when I began a fresh assault on his belly. As Amira and I tickled him, the relentless rhythm of Danny's torment had its usual effect on me. In a flash, I had unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and tugged them down several inches, along with his briefs. Now my fingers had more leeway: I could let them stray down past his hipbones to his groin and the tops of his buttocks. When I did so, the pitch of Danny's laughter increased. Although we were lovers and I'd seen and touched him there a thousand times, it was still a violation of sorts. Where his briefs had been, his skin was unbelievably white--the gleaming white of a secret exposed. We were now entering Phase Two.
Amira looked at me questioningly and I nodded to her to keep going. I would return the favor with Sean later. Right now I was on a mission. We had a rhythm going, Danny, Amira, and I, and I didn't want to break it. As we continued it grew stronger and more insistent, pounding in time with my heart. "Work it out, Danny," I urged silently as he thrashed with all his might, and the words became a chant: "Work... yeah... work... harder! c'mon, work... work... work..." Without realizing it I had begun whispering to him as I tickled. "Oh, yeah... c'mon, boy, you can do it... work it out..." Inside, my blood was pounding through my veins, my heart chugging like a locomotive. Danny's increasing desperation was making me all hot and squirmy. I began to feel as desperate as he, grinding against his thigh in search of relief. Naturally, this added another dimension to Danny's torture; now he was horny as hell and couldn't do anything about it. I tugged his pants farther down and exposed his bobbing erection. He blushed charmingly. Amira kept tickling his sides while I attacked his armpits, then his chest, then his belly, then the sensitive valleys where thigh met groin, then his inner thighs. The ropes that suspended Danny and Sean creaked gently as Danny shook with uncontrollable laughter. Then he went silent and for a while the only sound was the faint squeaking of rope against rope. When he recovered his voice, it was to beg for mercy.
"Oh god... no more... I can't take it... please... "
I clucked my tongue at his naughtiness. "What did I tell you about talking? You're supposed to speak when spoken to."
"AAAHHHH-hahahaha... please, stop... please..."
"All right, that's it," I announced. I retrieved the ball gag from the coffee table. Danny freaked out when he saw it. He hated the gag.
"No... no, please... I'll shut up, I promise..." When I tried to put it in his mouth he struggled, shaking his head from side to side and clamping his mouth shut. Undeterred, I pinched his nose until he opened his mouth to breathe, then quickly shoved in the gag and strapped it tight. He let out a muffled groan of protest. "There, that's better," I observed smugly.
When it was Sean's turn to be twin-tickled, Amira followed my lead and pulled his jeans and boxers down around his thighs.
"Isn't that romantic," Amira taunted. "They're dancing cheek to cheek!" We both burst out laughing. Sean and Danny did look awfully comical, wriggling around with their pants down. "I think they like each other," Amira went on, playing to their homophobia. Both men clenched self-consciously and tried to move away from each other.
I looked sternly at Danny. "Hey, do you have a license to sell hotdogs?" I demanded. I couldn't make out his answer, which was probably fortunate for him. Amira snickered. "Hotdogs? These two? Nahh, more like cocktail weiners." Mercilessly we kept up the constant stream of humiliating comments, tickling all the while. Soon Sean was struggling as frantically as Danny had been a few minutes before. His formerly bubbly laughter morphed into a pitiful howl. After what had happened to Danny, he knew better than to beg, but he had trouble restraining himself and let out the occasional "Ohh, p--" before biting his tongue to squelch the forbidden words. Although the anti-begging restriction increased their discomfort, I rather regretted having imposed it. There was something about a man in the throes of delicious, wiggly, burning, itching agony, raising his eyes to me forlornly and moaning that word--please--that afforded me a decadent pleasure unlike any other.
At last our hour was up. By this time Danny and Sean were utterly exhausted, incapable of struggling or even complaining. I removed Danny's gag and he gasped with relief, stretching his stiff jaw. I stood on a chair and untied the knotted rope that wound several times around the crossbeam, releasing them from their hanging position. Their wrists and ankles were still bound, and between fatigue and the sudden lack of suspension, both men fell clumsily to the floor. Amira and I knelt down and finished untying them. Danny rubbed his sore shoulders, looking up at me in a subtle bid for sympathy. Sean groaned, "Oohhh, man, that was some horrible shit!" Amira just snorted and rolled her eyes.
After a few minutes of this, the guys stood up shakily and began to pull up their pants.
"Not so fast," I said. "We're not quite finished with you yet."
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