TK True Tickling story: Shelley
(In this, and only this case, the names are TRUE and ticklish.)
The love of my life, my dearheart love, my sweet adoring, devoted, girl.
Her name is Shelley, (and nope, not giving her last name) and we met, as
if you couldn't guess, in one of the online chat rooms I frequent. The
time range for our first meeting online is... fuzzy. She could probably
tell you the day, the hour, the weather, and all that, but I'm not big
on details, I'm more of a 'big picture' kind of guy. At any rate, we met
sometime after I met and tickled Emma and Aeris, but before meeting and
tickling Brenda... probably about the same time as I tickled Lynda, and
Sandy.
We met in a Gorean chat room. I had just started exploring my Dominant
nature back then, reading all the John Norman 'Gor' books I could get my
hands on, reading Anne Rice's 'Beauty' stories cover to cover, and talking
with and interacting with the Gorean community in large online. I'd had
several different experiences with online slave girls, even 'collared' a
few online, to experience what it was like being a 'Master'. I found out,
often the hard way, that online experiences are not all they are cracked
up to be. The Gorean lifestyle, much like the general D/s lifestyle, is
a serious thing, not to be taken lightly, but when your contact with the
other person is limited to words on a computer screen, its sometimes very
hard to tell the real devotees from the fakers just looking to have a good
time.
When I met Shelley, I had just 'released' my slave, one of the previously
mentioned fakers. I'd been heartbroken, and emotionally distraught, as
this was not the first, only the latest in a long line of disappointments.
I'd basically come to the decison that online sucked, that EVERYONE was
dishonest, saying one thing but meaning another, only to get their jollies
at the poor fools stupid enough to believe them. I'd decided to leave
the chat rooms behind once and for all. That was when I met Shelley.
Funny, how sometimes you search and search for something and never find it,
then, when you give up looking, it drops into your lap. Shelley was just
getting over a similiar experience, only she was a slave, freed from a
Master-wann-be, who knew as much about Gor and D/s as a dead racoon. She'd
been hurt, as I had, and sitting together, watching the other pairs,
looking with envy on all those lucky enough to have found their perfect
match, we struck up a conversation with each other. We talked. And talked.
And talked. I live on the east coast, and she lives on the west, and I'd
logged on about 10 pm my time... but the sun was nearly up when we finally
realized how late it was. We'd talked the entire night. And it had been
like magic.
A little history. Shelley had been hurt in her last RL relationship. She
was a natural submissive, the kind of girl that gave all of herself to her
partner, enjoying nothing more than pleasing him, and making him the king
of her world. Unfortunately, her boyfriend had been a real jerk, had taken
her devotion and used it against her, cheated on her, made her feel like
a piece of shit, and then, when he was tired of her, tossed her away like
garbage. She refuses even now to tell me his name, or his address, the one
thing my Shelley-slave refuses to do for me, because she knows that if I
ever met up with the guy that hurt her so bad emotionally, I'd probably
rip out his throat with my bare hands...
Sorry. Emotional subject for me. I'm digressing.
Shelley was a submissive/slave girl at heart, but as I said, with all her
disappointments in the past, she had developed a shell, a kind of shield,
to keep anyone from getting too close, to keep from getting hurt that
badly ever again. We had felt a connection, a bond, between us from the
very beginning, and it later blossomed to friendship, then attraction,
then lust, then purely into love. Still, it was a hard road, because she
longed to be a slave to me, in RL as well as the online relationship we
shared, but couldn't quite let down her guard completely.
She had, as we say, trust issues.
One such issue was my fascination with tickling. She was very ticklish, as
are most of the online friends I have. (Is it coincidence, or have you
noticed a pattern here yet?) Like most of them, she HATED to be tickled,
hated the way it made her lose control, and hated the intense, overload of
pleasure it forced upon her. Of course, I liked her, and knew even way back
then I would LOVE her, and wanted her to be the special one. I knew that
eventually, tickling would become an issue, so I began teaching her about
it, about my fetish, my outlook on it, my attraction to it, and the mental
and physical aspects of tickling. I let her read some of my favorite
tickling stories online, most of them erotic ones, which opened up her
next big question.
"How on earth can tickling be EROTIC?!?"
How indeed. Here, I had an opening. I recounted some of my own previous
tickling experiences, back to Emma, and even before her. I told her how it
was possible to be stroked, and caressed, and yes, even tickled into sexual
pleasure, if the person tickling was skilled, and the situation was one
of comfort and trust, and the girl was receptive. At least in my own
experience, that is. Not EVERYONE reacts the same way to tickling, but I'd
have to say the majority reaction to the stimulus predictably. Intrigued,
Shelley opened her mind to the possibility. We played out scenarios online,
in addition to our usual D/s play, and the more she was exposed to it, the
less she feared it, and the more she actually stated to look forward to
experiencing it firsthand.
Fast forward. After a couple of years together as online Master and slave,
we'd reached the point where we both wanted to meet. I think it was then
that she confessed that she wanted much more from me than just an online
relationship... that she wasn't looking for a one-time visit, or a long
distance bed mate... that if she dared to lower her guard and accept me
fully, that she wanted it to be something long lasting, something permanent.
That made me happy; it was exactly what I had wanted myself. I made plans
to fly there and visit, around the Easter holidays, and I would stay the
weekend.
I'd prepared well. Although, technically, she would be only the second
person I'd had sex with, I felt more than adequately prepared for this
experience. Perhaps in this case it had to do with the NATURE of the
relationship, being her Master. A Dom/Master has to exude confidence, and
self-assuredness, in order to make his slave/sub comfortable and relaxed.
Inside, I was a gibbering mess of flesh, but outside I stayed calm, cool,
and collected. Her roommate picked me up from the airport, telling me that
Shelley had reserved a hotel room for us, and was awaiting me there, 'As
her Master requested'. I grinned. Her roommate might not have gotten the
gist of it, or may not have approved of the whole Master/slave thing, but
the simple fact that Shelley had done as I'd asked built up my confidence.
I had her chauffer me around to a few stores before taking me to the hotel.
I picked up the key card waiting for me, and knocking three times to let
her know it was me, I walked into the room.
Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know if I have the words to accurately
describe the wonderful sight that greeted me. Mere words can't fully explain
the majesty and magic of that moment. But I shall try.
She knelt there, on the floor, just in front of the door, as I'd instructed
her to do beforehand. I'd sent her through the mail, 'slave garb' consisting
of a carefully measure bolt of red silk, a golden thread sash to secure it,
several bangles, and a pair of golden ankle bells. Her hair was cut short
but meticulously styled, her normally brown-red hair dyed a glorious
blazing red. Her skin was soft and pale, but lightly tinged with a tan,
which she'd apparently gotten from the tanning beds for the occassion. Her
neck bore a simple black choker, her 'collar', showing herself slave, until
the time I would present her with on from my own hand. Her head was high,
her lovely blue-grey eyes were lowered respectfully, and her hands were
on her thighs, palm up, in the slave position called 'Nadu'. She looked
glorious.
I felt like I'd been struck from behind by an M-1 Abrahms tank. The bottle
of win, the chocolates, and my belongings tumbled from my hands onto the
floor, and I whispered softly, "My God," at the sight of her. She sat
there in silence, her eyes closed tightly, waiting anxiously to see what
I would do, what I would say. Tears ran down her face, and she trembled
so violently that I thought she would have fallen over, yet she held her
position. Overcome, I rushed to her, and then she was in my arms... we
were kissing, and hugging, and touching all over, and she just kept saying
"Master, Master," over and over, holding me like she would never let me
go.
She confessed to me much much later that she'd had this grand glorius
speech prepared for the moment I walked in, something like, "My Master,
your slave kneels at your feet, and bids you welcome," or something like
that. But then she saw me, and her heart seized up in her chest, and she
forgot her words. When I stopped, frozen in place, my jaw practically in
the floor, she thought I'd been shocked, that I hadn't approved of her, or
that I thought her ugly, or repulsive. Every fear she'd ever had of being
rejected surged in her, and she'd closed her eyes, not bearing to see
what I would do. Imagine that. My most beautiful, most PERFECT girl, my
love, no my intended-to-be, had been afraid I would reject her!
Our first time was tender, soft and gentle. Whether it was from some kind of
Master instinct, or empathy, or just knowing her so well, I knew that she
needed to be reassured, and loved, so I did so, gently and lovingly. I
brought her gently to pleasure, and again. Then, once she was okay, we
began again, this time, hard and deep, brutal and forceful, more like a
Master taking his slave girl for HIS pleasure, instead of for her own. It
was the kind of deep rhythmic no-holds-barred fucking she'd fantasized
about, and when we came down again, I knew then and there that I had her,
and SHE knew, without a doubt, that she was mine.
And now, for those patient enough to read this far, this is where the
tickling occurs. Properly sated, at least for the moment, the two of us
talked softly, while touching and exploring each other's bodies. To be
perfectly honest, tickling was the farthest thing from my mind at that
moment. I was content merely to hold her, to caress her, to let her know
she was mine, and that I was very much pleased with her. I learned all
about her roommate, her little girl, about her dogs, of which she had three.
I learned about her folks, who, as it turned out, were all eager to meet me.
The idea of meeting her folks, and the connotations of such a step, made
me a little nervous, so I asked for a subject change.
"Alright, Master dear," she said softly, sliding her head against my chest.
"How about you tell me some of your fantasies. I want to know all your
deepest darkest dreams and fantasies, and I want to make them come true."
I smiled, stroking her cheek. "You know all my mine... or at least MOST of mine.
I've told you about it a few hundred times already. You know about the
tickling thing" The magic word. "and the Master/slave thing, and, well,
since I'm still kind of new at this, a few others that I don't even know
how to put into words yet." I thought for a moment. "So, why don't you
tell me YOUR fantasies and fetishes instead."
She blushed deeply. "Well..." she said softly, "you know most of mine, too.
We've played out most of mine online. You know... the Vampire fantasies,
and all." That much I did know. Anne Rice was her favorite author, and she
had the whole Vampire Chronicles in her bedroom. "And, I have the whole
princess fantasy." One of our role plays online involved her as a sweet
Scottish noblewoman, and me as the handsome daring Highland lord, seeking
to tame her rebellious spirit. I liked that one myself. "But... well, there
is another one... but its kinda... well..."
Feeling Masterly, I lifted her chin. "Tell me. You'll have no secrets from
me, my slave." Perfect words, perfectly phrased. Her eyes went wide, and
she gasped. Her breathing went deep, and her body flushed slightly.
"Well... Master... I dream of being... tied up. Bound. Restrained."
I nodded. "Ah, okay. Bondage fetish. That's not so bad. We can do that." I
gestured to my luggage bag. "I brought a few things... including some rope.
Just in case," I said chuckling.
She was still flushed, and her nipples were hard again. "Oh... and... um,
one more thing. We talked about it a lot, you know... and now... I was
wondering... I mean, I'm really curious now..." I gave her the stern look
again, and she spit it out. "I want you to tie me up. And tickle me."
That did it. My cock had been at half-mast the entire time, but it surged
to life with a vengeance at her words. "A... are you sure?" I asked, not
quite believing my ears.
"No. Not really," she admitted. "But I want you to, anyway. Please, Master.
Tickle me. But... go easy on me, please? Just this first time."
I swiftly tied her to the bed, spead-eagled, her slender sweet wrists above
and to the sides, her legs spread, her cute feet restrained at the ankles.
I stood back a bit from the bed, just to look at her. Naked, her body bound
and tied, a small black collar around her throat... she looked every bit
the vulnerable, submissive slave girl of my dreams. I decided to start up
at the top. I kissed her lips gently, then along her neck, letting my hands
travel gently but purposely, along her chest, finding her big, heavy breasts
and tickling the undersides. She began to giggle instantly, as if her
entire body was one ticklish nerve ending. I increased the sensation,
running my fingertips up and down her full sweet breasts, stroking all about
them, teasing the nipples, which grew harder and harder all the while,
making Shelley moan between her giggles. Seeing how much she was enjoying
it, I decided to push her a bit more, and moved my hands along her sides.
"EEEEKK!! NOOO! NOT LIKE THAT!! HEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEE!" she cried out,
starting to wiggle and squirm now. I stroked and tickled her soft sides,
and plicked and pinched her ribs, one by one, making her laugh even harder.
"HAHAHAHAHAA... STOP IT!! STOP IT DAMMIT!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" she cried,
struggling and pulling at her bindings. She'd bee tickled before, but
never for so long in one session. She was starting to remember that she
hated to be tickled, too, and as I spidered my fingers slowly up her sides
towards her open and vulnerable underarms, her laughter and her threats
became more desperate.
"STHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!! STAAHAHAHAPP TICCJKLING MEE!! YOU BASTARD!! HAHAHAHAH!
LET ME GO LET ME GO!!! NO NO NO NO HOOHOHOHOHHOHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I DON'T
LIKE IT ANYMORE! STAAHAHAHAAPP ITTT!! HAHAHAHHHEHEHEHEH! EEEEEK!! NO! NO!
NOT THERE! NOT THERE NOTHEEEREREREHHHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAH!!" she screamed
as my fingers made contact with her soft underarms. They were fresh shaven
with just the very lightest stubble, just like her pussy. I like a
clean shaven slave girl I'd once told her, and apparently she'd taken
my words to heart for more than just her crotch. No matter, it made it
easier for me to tickle her there.
I could tell it was starting to get to her, because every so often she'd
groan in frustration between laughs. "HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA.. HAHAH... HAHAHA
Hahahahaha... GRRRRRR!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE... HEHHEHE hHEHEHEHEh... Let me
GOOO! Dammit!! Hahahahahaha! GRRRRR!!" she would say over and over. Of
course, I knew as well as she did that this was just what she wanted. I
hadn't even dug deeply into my bag of tricks yet, and to be honest, I was
taking it easy on her, compared to what I'd done to Aeris, Emma, and Lynda.
I stopped after a while, letting her catch her breath. "Oh.. good... that's
enough.." she said, struggling anew. "You can... untie me... now..."
No such luck, baby! I moved down the bed, to her soft little feet. Shelley
knew of my foot and tickling fetish to a degree that I had not shared with
anyone else. Oh, the others knew it was a fascination, but only Shelley
truly knew how much of an obsession it was for me. (*grin*) Her feet had
been freshly pedicured, and her nails were trimmed and polished a nice
light blue. A pretty color, but I personally preferred red. At least at the
time, my mood changes depending on the day. (It's a regular practice for
me now, when we're together, for her to let me play with her feet, and
will have me remove the old polish and paint them the color of my choice,
while struggling to hold still through the light random tickles I give her.)
Her feet were small, almost baby small, a perfect size six. Her toes were
small and pudgy, also like a baby's, and they gently tapered from big toe
back to pinkie. Her blue tipped toes wiggle and flexed as I held them in
my hand, and she began to giggle and plead with me even before the tickling
started. I loved it! I lifted the foot gently, gazing down at her sole,
slightly pink all over except for her high curved arch, which was a pure
white. Thinking it particularly sensitive, I scratched a single index
finger along that arch, sending her into instant insanity.
"EEEEEKK!! NOOOOOOOO!! HHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAA
HAAA HAA HAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA"
she laughed inssanely, as I wiggled my finger into her arch. I let my
finger explore the rest of her sole, tickling her from heel to the little
pink balls, and she was equally sensitive all over. Her face was beet red
after ten minutes, and with deep reluctance, I gave her a rest.
"How are you holding up, love?" I asked gleefully. The look she gave me was
part relief, part 'I'm-gonna-kill-you', part 'why-in-the-hell-did-I-agree-
to-this' all wrapped up together. "Oh come on, it's not THAT bad. It's
a lot different when you're tied up, though. Anyway, I'm not going REALLY
hard on you now. I'm taking it easy." Grinning wickedly, I said. "THIS is
what its like when I go all out."
I scrabbled all ten fingers vigorously over the soft bare sole of her right
foot, sending her back into insane cackling laughter. Her back arched off
the bed and she thrashed like she was being electrocuted. "SSTHAHAHAPP!
STTSHAHAHAP!! UNCCCLLLLEEE!! UNNCCCLLEE!!" she screamed. I stopped.
"So... when the hell... does it get... erotic?" she asked when she could
breath again.
Oh. "Ah, I see," I replied, understanding. "You should have said so. I can
do erotic tickling too. It requires a different kind of touch." I again
approached her poor tortured soles, and she winced, expecting more of the
same. This time, however, I started with a deep sensal massage, and I
gently soothed her down. When I actually began tickling her again, she
was receptive, but not hysterical, and her laughter sounded sweet and
musical this time.
"Tee hee hee hee... ohhh.. I like it now... hehehehe... ohhh... that
tickles... hehehehee... soo much! Hehehehehe... tee hee hee..."
I worked over her soft little soles, along her instep and arches, and even
tickled the tops of her feet, which were almost as sensitive. (I also made
the mistake of stroking and tickling her toenails, which most people don't
realize are even ticklish. Now, its a problem whenever I paint her nails,
because she swears it tickles her too!) Regardless, I led her slowly and
gently into a tickling erotic fog, slowly building up her arousal as well
as her tickling sensitivity, until she was laughing as hard as before, but
with moans and sighs mixed in. Then, lifting her right foot again, I did
what I had so wanted to do with so many other of my tickle victims but had
refrained from doing. I extended my tongue and tickle-licked her foot.
"EEEEEEKKK!!! AAAAAHHHH!!! AAHHHH GAAAWWWDDD!! HEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHE" she
screamed again, the wet raspy tongue catching her totally off guard. Her
foot twisted and spasmed wildly, but I held it tight, licking and licking
her entire foot, heel to toes. When my tongue poked into the ticklish
nooks between her pudgy little toes, she spasmed and bucked hard on the
bed, slamming her buttocks against the mattress, trying to get free.
The tickling was overwhelming her again, competing with her arousal for
dominance, but unfortunately for her, it was winning. Seeing her near her
breaking point, I stopped teasing, and went for the ultimate, and slipped
all five of her toes deep into my mouth and sucked *HARD*, trying to pull
her entire foot off her ankle with the vacuum. My tongue licked and
slathered around her wide spread toes, and my fingers continued to stroke
her arch, but the sucking of her toes was too much to deny. Her thrashing
became uniform then, and her hips started grinding and bumping, telegraphing
her ograsms as they slammed through her.
"OOHHHGGAAWWDDDYEESS MAAASSSTTEEERRR!!!" she cried out, as the room filled
with the scent and sounds of her pleasure. I continued to lick and suck and
tickle relentlessly, driving her higher and higher, until I feared she would
pop, then I released her foot. Immediately she flopped down to the bed,
gasping and panting deeply, her eyes closed tightly. Her entire body was
lightly tinged with red, and for a long brief moment I was scared that I
had actually KILLED her. I called her name, and again, and she didn't
answer. I called a third and final time, holding her wrists, checking her
pulse, when her eyes fluttered back open again. She smiled at me, and
sighed softly.
"Oh... fuck... yeah..." she said softly, as I untied her. She reached to
me then, and pulled me close. I wrapped her around me, and pulled the
covers over us. I kissed her then and told her to rest up.
"Thank you... for that... Master," she said softly, drifting off in my
arms. I smiled and kissed her again.
"No, Shelley, love," I whispered back. "Thank you."
The weekend was pretty much a repeat of that. Lots of sex, lots of loving,
lots of tickling. I even let her pursue her Vampire fetish a bit, letting
her bit the HELL out of my hands and neck, though she didn't actually DRINK
my blood. Still, the hickies we both carried for the next few MONTHS betold
just how agressively she had bitten and sucked, and how agressively I had
responded in turn. Looks like I can safely add VAMPIRE fetish to my list.
(In this, and only this case, the names are TRUE and ticklish.)
The love of my life, my dearheart love, my sweet adoring, devoted, girl.
Her name is Shelley, (and nope, not giving her last name) and we met, as
if you couldn't guess, in one of the online chat rooms I frequent. The
time range for our first meeting online is... fuzzy. She could probably
tell you the day, the hour, the weather, and all that, but I'm not big
on details, I'm more of a 'big picture' kind of guy. At any rate, we met
sometime after I met and tickled Emma and Aeris, but before meeting and
tickling Brenda... probably about the same time as I tickled Lynda, and
Sandy.
We met in a Gorean chat room. I had just started exploring my Dominant
nature back then, reading all the John Norman 'Gor' books I could get my
hands on, reading Anne Rice's 'Beauty' stories cover to cover, and talking
with and interacting with the Gorean community in large online. I'd had
several different experiences with online slave girls, even 'collared' a
few online, to experience what it was like being a 'Master'. I found out,
often the hard way, that online experiences are not all they are cracked
up to be. The Gorean lifestyle, much like the general D/s lifestyle, is
a serious thing, not to be taken lightly, but when your contact with the
other person is limited to words on a computer screen, its sometimes very
hard to tell the real devotees from the fakers just looking to have a good
time.
When I met Shelley, I had just 'released' my slave, one of the previously
mentioned fakers. I'd been heartbroken, and emotionally distraught, as
this was not the first, only the latest in a long line of disappointments.
I'd basically come to the decison that online sucked, that EVERYONE was
dishonest, saying one thing but meaning another, only to get their jollies
at the poor fools stupid enough to believe them. I'd decided to leave
the chat rooms behind once and for all. That was when I met Shelley.
Funny, how sometimes you search and search for something and never find it,
then, when you give up looking, it drops into your lap. Shelley was just
getting over a similiar experience, only she was a slave, freed from a
Master-wann-be, who knew as much about Gor and D/s as a dead racoon. She'd
been hurt, as I had, and sitting together, watching the other pairs,
looking with envy on all those lucky enough to have found their perfect
match, we struck up a conversation with each other. We talked. And talked.
And talked. I live on the east coast, and she lives on the west, and I'd
logged on about 10 pm my time... but the sun was nearly up when we finally
realized how late it was. We'd talked the entire night. And it had been
like magic.
A little history. Shelley had been hurt in her last RL relationship. She
was a natural submissive, the kind of girl that gave all of herself to her
partner, enjoying nothing more than pleasing him, and making him the king
of her world. Unfortunately, her boyfriend had been a real jerk, had taken
her devotion and used it against her, cheated on her, made her feel like
a piece of shit, and then, when he was tired of her, tossed her away like
garbage. She refuses even now to tell me his name, or his address, the one
thing my Shelley-slave refuses to do for me, because she knows that if I
ever met up with the guy that hurt her so bad emotionally, I'd probably
rip out his throat with my bare hands...
Sorry. Emotional subject for me. I'm digressing.
Shelley was a submissive/slave girl at heart, but as I said, with all her
disappointments in the past, she had developed a shell, a kind of shield,
to keep anyone from getting too close, to keep from getting hurt that
badly ever again. We had felt a connection, a bond, between us from the
very beginning, and it later blossomed to friendship, then attraction,
then lust, then purely into love. Still, it was a hard road, because she
longed to be a slave to me, in RL as well as the online relationship we
shared, but couldn't quite let down her guard completely.
She had, as we say, trust issues.
One such issue was my fascination with tickling. She was very ticklish, as
are most of the online friends I have. (Is it coincidence, or have you
noticed a pattern here yet?) Like most of them, she HATED to be tickled,
hated the way it made her lose control, and hated the intense, overload of
pleasure it forced upon her. Of course, I liked her, and knew even way back
then I would LOVE her, and wanted her to be the special one. I knew that
eventually, tickling would become an issue, so I began teaching her about
it, about my fetish, my outlook on it, my attraction to it, and the mental
and physical aspects of tickling. I let her read some of my favorite
tickling stories online, most of them erotic ones, which opened up her
next big question.
"How on earth can tickling be EROTIC?!?"
How indeed. Here, I had an opening. I recounted some of my own previous
tickling experiences, back to Emma, and even before her. I told her how it
was possible to be stroked, and caressed, and yes, even tickled into sexual
pleasure, if the person tickling was skilled, and the situation was one
of comfort and trust, and the girl was receptive. At least in my own
experience, that is. Not EVERYONE reacts the same way to tickling, but I'd
have to say the majority reaction to the stimulus predictably. Intrigued,
Shelley opened her mind to the possibility. We played out scenarios online,
in addition to our usual D/s play, and the more she was exposed to it, the
less she feared it, and the more she actually stated to look forward to
experiencing it firsthand.
Fast forward. After a couple of years together as online Master and slave,
we'd reached the point where we both wanted to meet. I think it was then
that she confessed that she wanted much more from me than just an online
relationship... that she wasn't looking for a one-time visit, or a long
distance bed mate... that if she dared to lower her guard and accept me
fully, that she wanted it to be something long lasting, something permanent.
That made me happy; it was exactly what I had wanted myself. I made plans
to fly there and visit, around the Easter holidays, and I would stay the
weekend.
I'd prepared well. Although, technically, she would be only the second
person I'd had sex with, I felt more than adequately prepared for this
experience. Perhaps in this case it had to do with the NATURE of the
relationship, being her Master. A Dom/Master has to exude confidence, and
self-assuredness, in order to make his slave/sub comfortable and relaxed.
Inside, I was a gibbering mess of flesh, but outside I stayed calm, cool,
and collected. Her roommate picked me up from the airport, telling me that
Shelley had reserved a hotel room for us, and was awaiting me there, 'As
her Master requested'. I grinned. Her roommate might not have gotten the
gist of it, or may not have approved of the whole Master/slave thing, but
the simple fact that Shelley had done as I'd asked built up my confidence.
I had her chauffer me around to a few stores before taking me to the hotel.
I picked up the key card waiting for me, and knocking three times to let
her know it was me, I walked into the room.
Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know if I have the words to accurately
describe the wonderful sight that greeted me. Mere words can't fully explain
the majesty and magic of that moment. But I shall try.
She knelt there, on the floor, just in front of the door, as I'd instructed
her to do beforehand. I'd sent her through the mail, 'slave garb' consisting
of a carefully measure bolt of red silk, a golden thread sash to secure it,
several bangles, and a pair of golden ankle bells. Her hair was cut short
but meticulously styled, her normally brown-red hair dyed a glorious
blazing red. Her skin was soft and pale, but lightly tinged with a tan,
which she'd apparently gotten from the tanning beds for the occassion. Her
neck bore a simple black choker, her 'collar', showing herself slave, until
the time I would present her with on from my own hand. Her head was high,
her lovely blue-grey eyes were lowered respectfully, and her hands were
on her thighs, palm up, in the slave position called 'Nadu'. She looked
glorious.
I felt like I'd been struck from behind by an M-1 Abrahms tank. The bottle
of win, the chocolates, and my belongings tumbled from my hands onto the
floor, and I whispered softly, "My God," at the sight of her. She sat
there in silence, her eyes closed tightly, waiting anxiously to see what
I would do, what I would say. Tears ran down her face, and she trembled
so violently that I thought she would have fallen over, yet she held her
position. Overcome, I rushed to her, and then she was in my arms... we
were kissing, and hugging, and touching all over, and she just kept saying
"Master, Master," over and over, holding me like she would never let me
go.
She confessed to me much much later that she'd had this grand glorius
speech prepared for the moment I walked in, something like, "My Master,
your slave kneels at your feet, and bids you welcome," or something like
that. But then she saw me, and her heart seized up in her chest, and she
forgot her words. When I stopped, frozen in place, my jaw practically in
the floor, she thought I'd been shocked, that I hadn't approved of her, or
that I thought her ugly, or repulsive. Every fear she'd ever had of being
rejected surged in her, and she'd closed her eyes, not bearing to see
what I would do. Imagine that. My most beautiful, most PERFECT girl, my
love, no my intended-to-be, had been afraid I would reject her!
Our first time was tender, soft and gentle. Whether it was from some kind of
Master instinct, or empathy, or just knowing her so well, I knew that she
needed to be reassured, and loved, so I did so, gently and lovingly. I
brought her gently to pleasure, and again. Then, once she was okay, we
began again, this time, hard and deep, brutal and forceful, more like a
Master taking his slave girl for HIS pleasure, instead of for her own. It
was the kind of deep rhythmic no-holds-barred fucking she'd fantasized
about, and when we came down again, I knew then and there that I had her,
and SHE knew, without a doubt, that she was mine.
And now, for those patient enough to read this far, this is where the
tickling occurs. Properly sated, at least for the moment, the two of us
talked softly, while touching and exploring each other's bodies. To be
perfectly honest, tickling was the farthest thing from my mind at that
moment. I was content merely to hold her, to caress her, to let her know
she was mine, and that I was very much pleased with her. I learned all
about her roommate, her little girl, about her dogs, of which she had three.
I learned about her folks, who, as it turned out, were all eager to meet me.
The idea of meeting her folks, and the connotations of such a step, made
me a little nervous, so I asked for a subject change.
"Alright, Master dear," she said softly, sliding her head against my chest.
"How about you tell me some of your fantasies. I want to know all your
deepest darkest dreams and fantasies, and I want to make them come true."
I smiled, stroking her cheek. "You know all my mine... or at least MOST of mine.
I've told you about it a few hundred times already. You know about the
tickling thing" The magic word. "and the Master/slave thing, and, well,
since I'm still kind of new at this, a few others that I don't even know
how to put into words yet." I thought for a moment. "So, why don't you
tell me YOUR fantasies and fetishes instead."
She blushed deeply. "Well..." she said softly, "you know most of mine, too.
We've played out most of mine online. You know... the Vampire fantasies,
and all." That much I did know. Anne Rice was her favorite author, and she
had the whole Vampire Chronicles in her bedroom. "And, I have the whole
princess fantasy." One of our role plays online involved her as a sweet
Scottish noblewoman, and me as the handsome daring Highland lord, seeking
to tame her rebellious spirit. I liked that one myself. "But... well, there
is another one... but its kinda... well..."
Feeling Masterly, I lifted her chin. "Tell me. You'll have no secrets from
me, my slave." Perfect words, perfectly phrased. Her eyes went wide, and
she gasped. Her breathing went deep, and her body flushed slightly.
"Well... Master... I dream of being... tied up. Bound. Restrained."
I nodded. "Ah, okay. Bondage fetish. That's not so bad. We can do that." I
gestured to my luggage bag. "I brought a few things... including some rope.
Just in case," I said chuckling.
She was still flushed, and her nipples were hard again. "Oh... and... um,
one more thing. We talked about it a lot, you know... and now... I was
wondering... I mean, I'm really curious now..." I gave her the stern look
again, and she spit it out. "I want you to tie me up. And tickle me."
That did it. My cock had been at half-mast the entire time, but it surged
to life with a vengeance at her words. "A... are you sure?" I asked, not
quite believing my ears.
"No. Not really," she admitted. "But I want you to, anyway. Please, Master.
Tickle me. But... go easy on me, please? Just this first time."
I swiftly tied her to the bed, spead-eagled, her slender sweet wrists above
and to the sides, her legs spread, her cute feet restrained at the ankles.
I stood back a bit from the bed, just to look at her. Naked, her body bound
and tied, a small black collar around her throat... she looked every bit
the vulnerable, submissive slave girl of my dreams. I decided to start up
at the top. I kissed her lips gently, then along her neck, letting my hands
travel gently but purposely, along her chest, finding her big, heavy breasts
and tickling the undersides. She began to giggle instantly, as if her
entire body was one ticklish nerve ending. I increased the sensation,
running my fingertips up and down her full sweet breasts, stroking all about
them, teasing the nipples, which grew harder and harder all the while,
making Shelley moan between her giggles. Seeing how much she was enjoying
it, I decided to push her a bit more, and moved my hands along her sides.
"EEEEKK!! NOOO! NOT LIKE THAT!! HEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEE!" she cried out,
starting to wiggle and squirm now. I stroked and tickled her soft sides,
and plicked and pinched her ribs, one by one, making her laugh even harder.
"HAHAHAHAHAA... STOP IT!! STOP IT DAMMIT!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" she cried,
struggling and pulling at her bindings. She'd bee tickled before, but
never for so long in one session. She was starting to remember that she
hated to be tickled, too, and as I spidered my fingers slowly up her sides
towards her open and vulnerable underarms, her laughter and her threats
became more desperate.
"STHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!! STAAHAHAHAPP TICCJKLING MEE!! YOU BASTARD!! HAHAHAHAH!
LET ME GO LET ME GO!!! NO NO NO NO HOOHOHOHOHHOHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I DON'T
LIKE IT ANYMORE! STAAHAHAHAAPP ITTT!! HAHAHAHHHEHEHEHEH! EEEEEK!! NO! NO!
NOT THERE! NOT THERE NOTHEEEREREREHHHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAH!!" she screamed
as my fingers made contact with her soft underarms. They were fresh shaven
with just the very lightest stubble, just like her pussy. I like a
clean shaven slave girl I'd once told her, and apparently she'd taken
my words to heart for more than just her crotch. No matter, it made it
easier for me to tickle her there.
I could tell it was starting to get to her, because every so often she'd
groan in frustration between laughs. "HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA.. HAHAH... HAHAHA
Hahahahaha... GRRRRRR!! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE... HEHHEHE hHEHEHEHEh... Let me
GOOO! Dammit!! Hahahahahaha! GRRRRR!!" she would say over and over. Of
course, I knew as well as she did that this was just what she wanted. I
hadn't even dug deeply into my bag of tricks yet, and to be honest, I was
taking it easy on her, compared to what I'd done to Aeris, Emma, and Lynda.
I stopped after a while, letting her catch her breath. "Oh.. good... that's
enough.." she said, struggling anew. "You can... untie me... now..."
No such luck, baby! I moved down the bed, to her soft little feet. Shelley
knew of my foot and tickling fetish to a degree that I had not shared with
anyone else. Oh, the others knew it was a fascination, but only Shelley
truly knew how much of an obsession it was for me. (*grin*) Her feet had
been freshly pedicured, and her nails were trimmed and polished a nice
light blue. A pretty color, but I personally preferred red. At least at the
time, my mood changes depending on the day. (It's a regular practice for
me now, when we're together, for her to let me play with her feet, and
will have me remove the old polish and paint them the color of my choice,
while struggling to hold still through the light random tickles I give her.)
Her feet were small, almost baby small, a perfect size six. Her toes were
small and pudgy, also like a baby's, and they gently tapered from big toe
back to pinkie. Her blue tipped toes wiggle and flexed as I held them in
my hand, and she began to giggle and plead with me even before the tickling
started. I loved it! I lifted the foot gently, gazing down at her sole,
slightly pink all over except for her high curved arch, which was a pure
white. Thinking it particularly sensitive, I scratched a single index
finger along that arch, sending her into instant insanity.
"EEEEEKK!! NOOOOOOOO!! HHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAA
HAAA HAA HAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA"
she laughed inssanely, as I wiggled my finger into her arch. I let my
finger explore the rest of her sole, tickling her from heel to the little
pink balls, and she was equally sensitive all over. Her face was beet red
after ten minutes, and with deep reluctance, I gave her a rest.
"How are you holding up, love?" I asked gleefully. The look she gave me was
part relief, part 'I'm-gonna-kill-you', part 'why-in-the-hell-did-I-agree-
to-this' all wrapped up together. "Oh come on, it's not THAT bad. It's
a lot different when you're tied up, though. Anyway, I'm not going REALLY
hard on you now. I'm taking it easy." Grinning wickedly, I said. "THIS is
what its like when I go all out."
I scrabbled all ten fingers vigorously over the soft bare sole of her right
foot, sending her back into insane cackling laughter. Her back arched off
the bed and she thrashed like she was being electrocuted. "SSTHAHAHAPP!
STTSHAHAHAP!! UNCCCLLLLEEE!! UNNCCCLLEE!!" she screamed. I stopped.
"So... when the hell... does it get... erotic?" she asked when she could
breath again.
Oh. "Ah, I see," I replied, understanding. "You should have said so. I can
do erotic tickling too. It requires a different kind of touch." I again
approached her poor tortured soles, and she winced, expecting more of the
same. This time, however, I started with a deep sensal massage, and I
gently soothed her down. When I actually began tickling her again, she
was receptive, but not hysterical, and her laughter sounded sweet and
musical this time.
"Tee hee hee hee... ohhh.. I like it now... hehehehe... ohhh... that
tickles... hehehehee... soo much! Hehehehehe... tee hee hee..."
I worked over her soft little soles, along her instep and arches, and even
tickled the tops of her feet, which were almost as sensitive. (I also made
the mistake of stroking and tickling her toenails, which most people don't
realize are even ticklish. Now, its a problem whenever I paint her nails,
because she swears it tickles her too!) Regardless, I led her slowly and
gently into a tickling erotic fog, slowly building up her arousal as well
as her tickling sensitivity, until she was laughing as hard as before, but
with moans and sighs mixed in. Then, lifting her right foot again, I did
what I had so wanted to do with so many other of my tickle victims but had
refrained from doing. I extended my tongue and tickle-licked her foot.
"EEEEEEKKK!!! AAAAAHHHH!!! AAHHHH GAAAWWWDDD!! HEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHE" she
screamed again, the wet raspy tongue catching her totally off guard. Her
foot twisted and spasmed wildly, but I held it tight, licking and licking
her entire foot, heel to toes. When my tongue poked into the ticklish
nooks between her pudgy little toes, she spasmed and bucked hard on the
bed, slamming her buttocks against the mattress, trying to get free.
The tickling was overwhelming her again, competing with her arousal for
dominance, but unfortunately for her, it was winning. Seeing her near her
breaking point, I stopped teasing, and went for the ultimate, and slipped
all five of her toes deep into my mouth and sucked *HARD*, trying to pull
her entire foot off her ankle with the vacuum. My tongue licked and
slathered around her wide spread toes, and my fingers continued to stroke
her arch, but the sucking of her toes was too much to deny. Her thrashing
became uniform then, and her hips started grinding and bumping, telegraphing
her ograsms as they slammed through her.
"OOHHHGGAAWWDDDYEESS MAAASSSTTEEERRR!!!" she cried out, as the room filled
with the scent and sounds of her pleasure. I continued to lick and suck and
tickle relentlessly, driving her higher and higher, until I feared she would
pop, then I released her foot. Immediately she flopped down to the bed,
gasping and panting deeply, her eyes closed tightly. Her entire body was
lightly tinged with red, and for a long brief moment I was scared that I
had actually KILLED her. I called her name, and again, and she didn't
answer. I called a third and final time, holding her wrists, checking her
pulse, when her eyes fluttered back open again. She smiled at me, and
sighed softly.
"Oh... fuck... yeah..." she said softly, as I untied her. She reached to
me then, and pulled me close. I wrapped her around me, and pulled the
covers over us. I kissed her then and told her to rest up.
"Thank you... for that... Master," she said softly, drifting off in my
arms. I smiled and kissed her again.
"No, Shelley, love," I whispered back. "Thank you."
The weekend was pretty much a repeat of that. Lots of sex, lots of loving,
lots of tickling. I even let her pursue her Vampire fetish a bit, letting
her bit the HELL out of my hands and neck, though she didn't actually DRINK
my blood. Still, the hickies we both carried for the next few MONTHS betold
just how agressively she had bitten and sucked, and how agressively I had
responded in turn. Looks like I can safely add VAMPIRE fetish to my list.
