tenderfeet
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Nate Makes His Wishes Come True MMMMMFF/m
WARNING: GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT AND NONCONSENSUAL SITUATIONS
NATE MAKES HIS WISH COME TRUE
Be Careful What You Wish For
Kneeling, naked, padded leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles, wearing a dog collar with a leash attached to it, hands flat on his thighs, blindfolded with a ball gag in his mouth, 19-year old Nate Watson was acutely conscious of his hyper-ticklish bare feet as he sat back against their heels. He moved his hands behind him and caressed his soft, smooth, pampered soles.
At the moment his mind was too frozen with fear and anticipation to even think, much less analyze exactly how he’d gotten himself into this position.
*****
Nate had joined a fraternity the start of his freshman year at the local state university. Their house stood in a historic, formerly run-down, neighborhood of Victorian homes that had been gentrified and revitalized. Although he enjoyed the fraternity activities, he felt somewhat awkward socially.
In fact, he only had one real friend at the fraternity, his best friend, Sam. Nate and Sam were polar opposites. Where Nate was shorter than average (5’6”) and skinny (120 lbs.), Sam was tall (6’5”) and a muscular 225 lbs. Nate was bookish and intellectual and anti-sports, Sam never read for fun, went more with his gut, and had played every major sport in high school. Nate was soft-spoken, Sam was gregarious and often the center of attention.
Where Sam had a girlfriend he had been with since junior year of high school, Nate was still a virgin. He had a very wild, active fantasy life, but mixed messages from his very religious mother growing up had left his sexual development stunted. Partly as a result of that, Nate developed a morbid fascination with bondage, discipline, domination, and submission, filled with fantasies of himself as a submissive or slave.
It had all started with a grade-B made-for-TV black comedy called “It Couldn’t Have Happened to a Nicer Guy”. The protagonist is picked up hitch-hiking after his car breaks down by a woman in a fur coat driving a drop-top Cadillac. The woman forces him to strip at gunpoint, rapes him in the backseat, then leaves him naked on the side of the road. The black comedy part is what follows in the results.
For Nate’s guilt-ridden, tortured libido, it was a sudden epiphany. All he had to do to escape the guilt he felt because of his fantasies was imagine a situation in which he was forced to perform sexual acts for someone else’s pleasure. Then he wouldn’t be “responsible”.
Nate had also had an obsession with tickling as a form of punishment or torture. He’d look at tickling websites and pore over and stare at photos of women being tickled and watch countless video-clips which really turned him on. While a few men might view these women with sympathy, most men (and some women) felt nothing but voracious lust and a desire to do to them was what being done in the photos and videos. Nate was different, however.
When Nate looked on the women writhing in desperation under their tickle tortures, helplessly laughing and screaming in ticklish agony, their faces contorted in a mix of ecstasy, anguish, and humiliation, tears of frustration flowing down their cheeks as they attempted to beg for mercy and gasped for breath, he felt nothing but an intense, almost overpowering envy.
Often he would fantasize about various situations where someone or ones would tickle him against his will. Just the thought of being tied up and tickled without mercy and not being able to do anything about it except suffer turned him on so much he would lie awake at night fantasizing about it.
Soon, these two directions in Nate’s sexual fantasy life mixed, and because of his empathetic, even if envious, identification with tickle-tortured women, Nate’s fantasies of being dominated sexually by women began to evolve into fantasies about men. He even began to have sexual reactions to men, even though he never had been attracted to men previously, in his freshman year at university. The carvings had gotten so intense that Nate bought a rubber dildo to use on his own ass.
He became so distraught that he confessed everything to Sam about his fantasies one night after a lengthy bout of drinking. Well, about his BDSM fantasies and unwanted attraction to other males; he kept the tickle fantasies to himself. It didn’t matter that Sam couldn’t really do anything about it, Nate just had to get it out or he would explode.
To his everlasting gratitude, Sam didn’t react with disgust or like he was a freak. Instead he posited that the urges toward other males may have come from the fact Nate was still a virgin and had for years had these intense kinky sexual fantasies about women sexually dominating him. He suggested that Nate pursue trying such an encounter on the web.
Sam, though, didn’t really believe people did those things, except maybe on some other plane of existence. He wasn’t a prude, just not very imaginative.
Sam’s (at least outward) understanding gave Nate some relief and a possible direction to go in, but he didn't want to just tell someone about his fantasy; he found it more of a turn-on to imagine being forced to submit. Besides, the Puritanical guilt with which he was afflicted wouldn’t let him pursue it. So, he tried to think of a set-up to get someone to do just it, and eventually started to consider actually arranging a situation where it would happen for real.
At the beginning of the summer between his freshman and sophomore years, an affluent couple named McKenzie moved into the house next door which had just been renovated. Karen was an anesthesiologist at a local hospital and Keith was a scion of an extremely wealthy Texas family who was a perpetual student who was a licensed attorney. She was a large woman, 6’ tall and about 180, much of which was muscle rather than flab. Keith was about 6’1” and 250.
At their house-warming party, to which everyone in the fraternity had been invited, he learned they belonged to the same religious denomination, only at a different parish. The choirmaster at their parish, Lindsey, had become so close to the two that he was almost like a third family member.
Soon, Nate, and Sam along with him, learned that Keith also had the best weed they’d ever smoked and didn’t kind sharing. Both of them also became aware that Keith was totally gay, but he never even made a pass at either of them.
In mid-summer, Sam, who was going to class full-time, started a waiter job, also full-time, and dropped out of the fraternity. Nate was left without his anchor.
In the fourth week of July, the fraternity held its second rush party of the summer, most of the festivities taking place in the vacant lot owned by the chapter lying between the frat house and Keith and Karen’s place.
Lindsey and Karen came over; Keith was out of town.
Seeing Lindsey sitting by himself and with no one around, Nate went over and sat down on the backed bench with him. Lindsey leaned over and put his arm around Nate’s shoulders.
“You know,” Lindsey began, “I really have a thing for redheads, especially good-looking redheads like you (Nate’s thick mane fell below his shoulders)!”
Nate just gaped in astonishment, not knowing how to respond.
“Have you ever thought about trying cross-dressing? Maybe getting on stage in drag?” asked Lindsey. “You’d look really delicious as a girl!”
Nate, who had indeed thought about that very thing on many occasion, stammered a denial.
“I bet you’d be great at sucking cock, and I’d love to find out!”
More than a little unnerved, Nate drained the rest of his glass and excused himself go down to the bar in the frat house basement for more beer.
Returning to the surface, Nate saw Karen sitting on the bench in place of Lindsey. He set down and started to tell Karen what had just happened.
Karen put her arm around him, leaned in very close, and asked, “This party is kind of lame; you wanna come over to our place? You can even spend the night.”
Karen was a very sensuous woman despite her size, but she was married to a friend. A little freaked out, Nate spent the rest of the evening in the basement bar. He told no one about the two encounters except for Sam, who remarked, laughing, “I bet the two of them wanted to have a Nate sandwich,” he laughed. More seriously, he added, “Maybe you should talk to Keith, at least about Lindsey.”
A couple of days later, Keith returned to the city and made plans with Nate to have lunch at the sports bar and gym downtown. After they finished eating, Nate still not having brought up his issues, Keith suggested, “Let’s get a couple of after-dinner drinks and get in the hot tub.”
Nate thought that sounded just decadent enough to make him relax, but replied, “Unfortunately I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“Not required. Each tub is in a private room, and towels are provided.”
“Ok, sure, why not?”
When they had been soaking for several minutes and Nate was just starting to relax enough to get to the point, he felt Keith’s hand “accidentally” brush his thigh. He blew it off.
“You, if you lived in the frat house,” Keith told him, “we could hang out much more often. I’d even be willing to pay your rent.”
“That’s very generous,” Nate answered. “Let me think about it.”
Keith’s hand then slid over his thigh into his crotch and Keith’s fingers lightly stroked his balls and cock.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “That’s not what I came here for.”
“Oh, I thought…um, nevermind,” Keith answered, smiling gently, not seeming even the least bit flustered. “Let’s just finish our drinks, then we can leave.”
For the next few weeks, Nate could think of little else, his mind wandering into the farthest reaches of what might have happened had he accepted either or the verbal invitations or the more directly implied one.
The first week of September, Keith called his cell.
“Hey, we’ve been wondering why you haven’t been around,” Keith said. “Your frat brothers have been missing you too.”
“Well, I’ve just been kind of busy,” Nate evaded the question, “and have had much free time.”
“If something’s bothering you, you can tell us,” Keith offered. “We’re planning a barbeque the Friday afternoon of Labor Day weekend. We can all talk then.”
“Why don’t I think about it and let you know?” said Nate noncommittally.
That evening and the next day, Nate thought about the invitation while the two scenes from the rush party and the one at the sports club were going through his mind yet again, and as he did so Sam’s suggestion sprang back to the surface of his mind, as well as his own idea about bringing about the realization of his fantasies. He realized he was considering trying to pull it off for real.
Am I really thinking about doing this? he asked himself.
That afternoon, Nate called up Keith. “Who’s going to be at the barbeque?”
“Just me and Karen,” replied Keith, “and Lindsey, of course.”
Nate hesitated at the idea that he might be about to start something he didn’t want to finish, but quickly pushed that thought aside and replied, “Of course, I’ll be there. Count me in.”
Hardly believing that he’d taken a small first step toward making his fantasies become reality, Nate collapsed back into his chair at his parents’ home. His wild idea might make both his fantasies come true, and at the same time and place. At first, he couldn't believe he was really considering it, but he got so breathless with anticipation that he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he really did want to do it.
Friday morning of Labor Day weekend, Nate was almost breathless with anticipation. To prepare the day before, he had shaved off all his body hair and gone to a salon for a professional pedicure, with a thorough exfoliation and smoothing, followed by a lengthy paraffin foot-bath.
In order to keep himself from chickening out, and so that he would be more vulnerable and helpless once there, he called Sam claiming a break down to ask for a lift.
“What are you going over there for?” Sam asked.
“We thought it would be a good idea for all four of us to talk it out,” Nate replied, “just like you suggested back in July.”
At about two in the afternoon, Sam pulled into the driveway.
“What’s the gym bag for?” he asked.
“These are just some things in case no one is sober enough to drive me home later,” Nate replied, “and I have to stay at the frat house.”
Upon their arrival, Nate got out of the car and watched Sam drive off. He turned to ascend the steps, heart pounding in his throat.
Just as he was about to knock, Keith opened the door with a warm smile.
“Hey! Thanks for coming,” he said. “Come on in and have a seat.”
He followed Keith into the parlor where Karen sat at one end of a full-size couch facing a side wall and Lindsey sat in arm chair next to it facing the door. An empty rattan loveseat with expensively embroidered cushions faced the couch.
“Would you like a drink?” asked Karen.
“Maybe a little weed?” added Lindsey.
“Yes, to both those, thanks.” Nate was desperately in need of some courage.
Keith sat at the other end of the couch and motioned for Nate to sit in the loveseat. When Karen returned with the burgundy and Lindsey with the weed, Keith loaded a bowl and they began passing it around, no one really saying much of anything, just looking at each other.
There were too many butterflies doing somersaults in Nate’s stomach. He was nervous as hell and wasn't sure if he still wanted to go through with his plan, but something had to be done to break the tension, which was almost palpable.
“We need an icebreaker!” he found himself blurting out. “Why don't we play a game?"
"What sort of game?" they asked.
"There’s this game I just made up,” Nate said, a bit hyper, “you could say especially for this occasion. I think you’ll all like it."
"What kind of game?" asked Keith.
"Let me show you" said Nate, a little too quickly, and he retrieved his gym bag to remove three paper bags, two small and one large. “It’s called ‘Truth or Dare, and Consequences’.”
Not trusting himself to keep speaking, Nate handed over to Karen a sheet of paper and said, “Here’s the rules,” as he put the three bags on the coffee table, one each labeled “Truth”, “Dare”, and “Consequences”.
“I think we should take turns reading these,” said Karen, looking at the list of rules. “I’ll go first.”
Holding the paper in front of her, she read, “At his or her turn, the player up must choose either Truth or Dare. A player cannot do the other in lieu of one like doing a Dare instead of a Truth in the regular game. Failure to do that is a losing turn.”
She passed the paper to Keith, who read, “If the player chooses ‘Truth’, they must draw out a question and hand it to another player, which they must answer truthfully no matter how embarrassing. If the player instead chooses ‘Dare’, then they have to draw a task and hand it to another player to read, which they must then perform. Should a player fail to successfully complete a dare (trying doesn’t count), refuse to answer a question, or answer a question untruthfully by unanimous view of the other players, they have to remove an article of clothing.”
Here, the three adults, all over forty, paused, grinning, giving Nate boldly lecherous looks.
He in turn passed it to Lindsey, who read, “The first player completely naked loses and must kneel down to all the others, who may then return to being fully dressed, and draw out the consequence of their loss from the appropriate bag, without looking at it. They hand over the slip of paper and find out the punishment to which they are sentenced to endure as it is read aloud to the whole group.”
All three were now grinning lasciviously at Nate.
"That does sound pretty cool," said Keith.
“Yes,” said Karen, “a very adult spin on the game.”
"Just what sorts of punishments are in the Consequences bag?" asked Lindsey, smirking.
"All kinds of things,” replied Nate as his heart pounded in his chest, “and you really don't want to lose because the Consequences are all really, really humiliating.”
Here Nate had to lick his bone dry lips. “Some Consequences are much worse than others,” he added, then noted, “There’s one in there so bad I would just die if it were me.”
After Nate grabbed another glass of wine, the four of them, the three older adults and the still-teenaged Nate, began to play. He, of course had no intention of trying to win.
He was also going to make sure that he picked one punishment in particular that he had carefully taped to the bottom of the bag's interior!
As they played the game, everyone answered embarrassing questions and attempted to carry out the various stupid dares. Each time Nate deliberately flubbed a dare (and he flubbed them all), it gave him a small thrill to think of what it was leading to. He did draw out a number of Truth questions, and everyone else found out he was a straight and bi/gay virgin. He refused to answer whether he had used a dildo on himself and whether he had bi curious feelings, but his red face gave him away.
Soon, all the players were in various stages of undress, no one with less than three or four articles of clothing, except for Nate. Nate only had his shoes remaining, and before the start of the game all the players had decided, at his suggestion, that both shoes counted as one article.
There was one question in the Truth bag that he had taped to the bottom to make sure he got himself rather than another player. Having waited until just this point, he drew out the special question and handed it to Keith, who had just completed a Dare.
Keith grinned really big when he saw the question. He looked at Nate, grinning even wider, and said, “This question has four parts and you must answer all of them in order for your answer to count, otherwise you lose the turn, and the game. Are you ready, Nate?”
Nate swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” he stammered.
“You don’t have to be so formal, Nate,” Keith chuckled, “we’re all friends, after all. And here we go,” he said, looking directly in Nate’s eyes, “Part One: Are you ticklish?”
“OH MY GOD!” he said immediately his hands going to his mouth. Nate didn’t have to fake his reaction. His stomach dropped hard, and he blanched, his eyes wide and his mouth dry, even though he knew what it was going to be. As his face flushed bright red and he looked down at the floor, he replied, “Yes.”
Everyone giggled and chuckled and suddenly became intensely interested and focused.
“Part Two: How ticklish are you?” Keith asked, now grinning like a hyena.
“Oh God, I’m extremely ticklish!” Nate blurted out, his chagrin apparent to all. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this in front of other people; I’m so embarrassed
“Part Three: Is tickling a playful, pleasurable experience that you enjoy, or is it a torment you avoid at all costs?”
“Tickling is torture,” Nate replied in a soft voice. “I can’t stand being tickled the least little bit. I absolutely hate it!”
Inside, Nate truly believed he was lying in those last two answers, doing so in order to arouse their interest in subjecting him to tickle-torture. He had no idea how true his statements were about to become.
“Well,” said Lindsey, “I guess you had better stay away from anyone who might decide to tickle you, shouldn’t you?” The “like us” went unsaid.
“Part Four: where are you the most ticklish?” Keith inquired, reading from the paper, “and rate from 1 to 100 how ticklish you are everywhere on your body.”
This was the point which Nate had been waiting for. He thought knew where he was most ticklish, but had never really been tickled so he couldn’t answer the second half of Part Four.
“I refuse to answer that question on the grounds it may jeopardize me,” he finally replied. He thought that Keith, as a licensed but non-practicing lawyer, might like that answer. Indeed, he did snort in amusement before speaking.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” his interrogator said with predatory glee. “Remove your last article of clothing. Or they will be removed for you.”
As much as the thought of being stripped of his shoes excited him, Nate bent over and started to slowly untie both his shoes.
“Wait a minute,” Karen said, moving a footstool into the circle of chairs, loveseat, and couch, “I think you should sit here facing all of us. This is, after all, the last move of the game.”
“Let’s all participate,” suggested Lindsey. “One of us can hold him down while the other two remove his shoes; we can draw lots for that. .”
“Good idea,” Keith remarked. “But let’s put him in the floor with his legs and feet up on the stool. One of us can hold him from behind.”
In the end, Keith and Lindsey, who’d won the draw, placed themselves in front of his feet hanging over the edge of the stool, while Karen held him sitting up.
Keith and Lindsey began to slowly untie Nate’s K-Swiss boat sneakers, worn with no socks, then to unlace them in order to drag out the moment as long as possible. After a couple of torturous minutes, for Nate, the shoestrings were tossed to the ground. Then the two swiftly removed the stringless sneakers and tossed them across the room.
A chill of apprehension and anticipation ran down Chuck’s spine as the cool inside air hit his bare feet, now exposed to the view of all. He was very apprehensive what they might say when they saw his well-pedicured feet and shiny black-polished toenails.
“Wow! Look at his bare feet! Those are prettier than most girls’ feet.”
“Oh my God, are they as soft as they look? How do keep them so soft and smooth?”
“How sweet, you painted your cute little toenails for us!”
“Ok, ok,” Keith commanded as Lindsey dragged his armchair to beside the couch, “the game is over and you, Nate, are officially the loser. Kneel down in front of the three of us now and draw out what your punishment is going to be from the Consequences bag.”
Nate knelt in the floor as he was told, highly self-conscious of being naked and barefoot before three much older adults whose aggressive sexual overtures he had spurned the past month.
“Are you ready?” Keith asked.
“Yes, sir,” Nate replied nervously, trembling. “After all, I lost fair and square.”
Lindsey held out the bag of Consequences for Nate.
Nate felt into it, and his fingers quickly found it taped to the bottom of the bag.
Once I pulled this from the bag, he thought, it’s really going to happen! I’ll have no choice but to follow through!
Nate was very uneasy. He really had no idea what it would feel like to be tied down and tickled didn't know how much he would be able to take. He knew this was his last chance to chicken out, pull a different punishment from the Consequences bag. But he didn't give himself a moment to reconsider and quickly plucked the note out of the bag and passed it to Keith.
Nate bit his bottom lip as Keith unfolded the note, he was so anxious about the reactions that they would have when they read it.
"As the loser," announced Keith, he paused as a big smirk appeared on his face, "you shall be tied spread-eagle to a bed, still naked, and blindfolded. All the winners shall then tickle you relentlessly, without mercy and without cease, for no less than TWO FULL HOURS nonstop.
“I guess we’ll find out where all those ticklish spots are after all,” Lindsey leered, “and now ticklish each and every one is.”
“There is no upper limit on length of time,” Keith continued, “nor is there a limit on degree of severity or on the number of simultaneous ticklers nor is there any safe-word. Should you faint, you will be woken with smelling salts and given a five-minute break; however, an additional ten minutes shall then be added to the minimum time of your tickle-torture.”
His eyes widened and his grin grew larger as he skimmed down before continuing. “Once you are completely broken into absolute submission, you shall serve as a sex slave to all the other players for the rest of the weekend, from the minute your initial torture ends thru to the next workday morning.”
“That would be Tuesday, I believe,” Karen noted with a wicked smile, arching an eyebrow and licking her lips, “since this is Labor Day weekend. A whole three and a half days.”
“The only hard limits are that there shall be no permanent physical harm, no toilet slavery, no asphyxiation play, and no bestiality,” Keith resumed. “Throughout the weekend, Tickle Hell rules apply; this means that during this period you may be tickle-tortured at any time under the same guidelines as at the first, including while you are providing sexual gratification.”
“I know what we need to do first,” Karen announced her right eyebrow raised. Looking down at Nate kneeling naked in the floor, she said, “Get on all fours, slave.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nate replied, only to get a swift, hard smack on his bare bottom.
“That’s, ‘Yes, Mistress,’ slave,” Karen ordered sternly. “And you shall address Keith and Lindsey as ‘Master’.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Nate corrected.
“That’s better,” said Karen, with another smack, then turned to the others. “If you’ll excuse me I will be right back in a couple of minutes.”
She returned with a large, hospital quality enema bag, just filled up.
“Put your head to the floor, slave,” she ordered, “and raise your ass in the air.”
With a latex glove on, she spread KY jelly on two fingers then eased them into Nate’s ass and rotated them back and forth several times, smiling.
“Well,” mused Lindsey, “I guess that answers the question about whether he’s used a dildo in his ass before.”
“Yeah,” added Keith, “there’s no way that ass hasn’t been widened.”
Karen stuck the nozzle as far into Nate’s asshole as it would go, then released the cut-off valve to let a medium stream flow into his rectum.
“You better not spill one drop on that carpet,” Keith told him sternly, or you’ll be paying for a new one in addition to getting your ass tanned like never before.”
Nate had never been so humiliated in his life.
When the bag was empty, Karen said told the group, “Now we wait until slave’s need to evacuate becomes urgent.”
Looking down at Nate, she stressed, “And I mean urgent. Then you can relieve yourself in the downstairs half-bath; leave the door open. Afterwards, take a quick but thorough shower, then come back out here.”
That accomplished, Nate returned fifteen minutes later. He was wearing the short flowery silk robe Karen had left in the bathroom with a note pinned to it instructing him to do so.
The Persian rug upon which he’d been kneeling during the reading of his sentence had been removed, revealing the beautiful wood floor. The couch had been dragged to one side of the room and Keith, Karen, and Lindsey sat upon it. The loveseat was moved back toward the other wall. The adults were all three completely dressed again.
A nervous looking man in his thirties stood behind the couch.
“Kneel, slave,” Lindsey instructed, “facing us all.”
“Yes, Master,” Nate complied.
“Now,” said Karen, “raise your arms above your head and bow down to the floor, palms and fingers flat on the surface.”
“Now, repeat everything after me,” Keith commanded. “Of my own free will, I, Nate, also known as Natanya, surrender myself wholly and complete, heart and mind, body and soul, to the total domination of the Masters and Mistresses before me. I promise to obey every command; to submit to every discipline, punishment, and humiliation they choose to inflict upon me; to provide every form of sexual gratification they demand; and to serve with equal enthusiasm every member of the group and any others outside the group with whom they share me.”
When Nate had finished his verbal oath, Karen commanded him to sit up.
“This man behind us is the paralegal who used to work for Keith when he was still practicing,” she said. “He’s here to witness the affidavit we’re all going to sign.”
“I drew this up myself, while you were in the head,” Keith informed him. “You go first.”
Nate saw that it was a legal affidavit of consent which read: “I, Nate Watson, agree to play the role of a consensual sex slave to the undersigned from the moment this document is complete until next Tuesday morning, under the terms previously agreed to. I affirm that I do so of my own free will and absolve both them and all others with whom they share me under the terms of this agreement of all criminal and civil liability for any and all actions resulting therefrom, provided those action are within said terms.”
After the affidavit was signed by all and notarized, the harried paralegal immediately departed.
When he was gone, Keith ordered Nate to remove the robe, kneel, spread out his ankles, and raise his arms over his head. The adults put soft leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles and a collar around his neck with a leash attached.
He heard some shuffling, things being moved. Then they ordered him to close his eyes.
In the center of that wooden floor directly in front of him was a leather-covered half-cylinder with a thick rubber dildo about seven inches long mounted on top of one end. The device was fixed securely to the floor with previously hidden metal clamps. At the other end was a raised circular handle with two metal clips like on his leash on either end. Nate noticed that small tiles had been removed from the floor on either side of the dildo end to expose metal clips there too.
“Ok, slave,” commanded Lindsey, pulling down on his leash, “let’s see how good you suck cock.”
“Yes, Master,” Nate submissively answered. Bending over, he placed his mouth over the dildo and began sucking.
He felt a belt smack his ass and cried out in protest.
“I mean really suck it, slave,” Lindsey explained, “lick it like you would a lolly-pop or an ice cream cone too. Suck it like you’re trying to suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. And yes, you are going to have to deepthroat the whole thing.”
Nate was so mortified and so absorbed in what he was doing that he barely registered the flashes from the digital cameras or the vidcam.
The whole group was cheering and clapping in time.
“Ok, that’s enough,” Keith finally ordered after a few minutes. “Now sit back on your heels out of Mistress Karen’s way so she can prepare for step two.”
“Yes, Master,” Nate replied as he complied.
Karen brought out her latex gloves and KY again, this time lubing up the dildo.
“Ok, slave, you know what to do,” Keith ordered, “mount that cock.”
Nate positioned his asshole over the head of the rubber cock. With a gyrating motion, he obediently lowered himself slowly down.
Once he had completely skewered himself, Adam and Steve each secured a wrist to the handle while Bob and Helen secured his ankles to the floor.
“Now, slut, ride that cock like there’s no tomorrow,” Keith ordered.
“Lindsey will be behind you to provide any needed encouragement,” suggested Karen.
Lindsey stood by, belt in hand (Nate’s own belt he noticed), smiling eagerly. Nate began to ride, slowly at first.
Soon he felt the crack of the belt on his ass again. “Faster, slave, faster,” Lindsey shouted. “Fuck that cock like you’re trying to make it cum.” A few more smacks repeatedly, then an occasional one now and then gave Nate all the encouragement he needed.
Soon Nate was moaning loudly, heedless of the spectacle he was making.
To more cheers, urging, laughter, and ridicule, the lights of digital cameras and videocams flashed and shone. Just when he ass was starting to get comfortable with the huge (to Nate) rubber cock in his ass, Keith raised his hand, calling a halt.
“We can’t let you accidentally cum this early, can we?” Karen said. “Where would be the fun in that for us?”
After Nate had been released, dismounted, and cleaned the KY from between his asscheeks, he was brought back into the room and set down in the center of the loveseat. The loveseat was a low-backed rattan import. They fastened both his wrists to a clip that had been attached in the center behind his head, and his ankles to clips attached at the corners.
Finished, all members of the group sat back to watch their captive slave’s reaction to his predicament.
Nate had never been restrained anything like this before and the sensation frightened and excited him at the same time. He felt totally vulnerable, stretched out so obscenely before three older adults who had come onto him so aggressively and in such secure restraint that he knew there was no way he could get free.
They can do whatever they liked to me now, thought Nate, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it!
The feeling of being bound like that before these three all leering at him made him breathless with fear, though at the same time it really thrilled him. He playfully struggled against his bonds, wriggling his body and his hands and feet, both to test the restraints and to demonstrate to his Masters and Mistress his utter helplessness.
Just at that point, Lindsey stood up, strolled around to the big picture window behind the group, the one facing the fraternity house across the vacant lot, and swiftly opened the curtains.
At this, Nate began struggling furiously in his bonds, pleading with them to close the curtains.
“Stop struggling and remain still,” Lindsey ordered sternly. “It’s still bright daylight outside, and with the basement coming above ground the windows are hardly ground level.”
“In other words, no one should be able to see you,” noted Karen. “This is just to demonstrate how completely you are in our power.”
“Yes, we can expose you at any time,” said Keith. “In fact, I just uploaded all that digital video footage and photos we just took to our hard drive. Fail to comply and remain submissive and obedient, they get uploaded to a website and the URL sent to every member of your fraternity and your church.”
Nate’s stomach dropped hard when he heard Keith’s speech. The truth of the matter that this was no longer a game where he was in control, a situation he himself had deliberately contrived to get into, flooded over him. Perversely, he found this arousing and quickly became erect.
“Now, before we take your downstairs to break you in with that two or more hours of tickling,” Keith said, “we need to test everywhere to see what your ticklish spots are and how ticklish each of them is.”
Lindsey held up two pieces of poster board, one with spots on his upper body listed, the other with spots on his feet. “These are the scorecards,” he said, “scoring 1-10.”
“I have a confession to make,” Karen interjected. “Nate here volunteered to a family friend to test a new EKG machine at her office last year at the medical center. Just attaching the sensor pads to his skin made him squirm. They rolled up sheets of paper and kept poking him all over whenever the machine wasn’t running.” She paused and grinned. “He’s ticklish everywhere!”
The others seemed to greatly appreciate Karen’s information. Nate was just embarrassed.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” Keith began. We’ve made a list of potentially ticklish spots on your body—arms, ribcage, sides, belly, lower back, thighs, and 23 others—that we are going to test for 15 seconds each, with fingers or feathers or nails as appropriate. Your feet are in a whole category by themselves, with 13 spots to be tested but on both feet at the same time. “
“Once every spot is tested and rated from one to ten,” Karen continued, “all three of us will tickle you all over your body and feet for 5 minutes, to give you a taste of what’s in store for you. In case you’re trying to figure it out, it’s a little over 15 minutes total.”
“Which doesn’t come off your overall time,” stressed Lindsey. “Since you didn’t want to, or couldn’t, tell us yourself, we have to find out for ourselves.”
He then rose and closed the drapes as Karen put a ball gag in his mouth.
The body-testing proceeded according to plan. Nate alternately giggled, laughed, screeched, guffawed, and screamed with laughter while worming and writhing and twisting. True to Karen’s account they found no spot less than an 8, some were 9, most were 10, and a few 10+.
As Nate sat gasping in relief at the brief respite, Karen walked up to the loveseat to which he was bound and ran her sharp-nailed fingers up, down, and back up his buttery soft soles.
The results were explosive. Nate’s back arched completely off the loveseat and he screamed loudly, writhing and squirming after he landed back down.
Somewhat startled at first, Karen stepped back in wonder. After their initial shock, the adults began whooping and hollering and cheering. No one, however, was more stunned than Nate, who couldn’t believe his feet were that ticklish. After all, he had tried to tickle them himself to very little effect.
“You know, boys,” Karen said, handing two stiff-looking turkey feathers to Keith and Lindsey, “I believe these pretty little bare soles just might be susceptible to the touch of a feather, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, completely,” Lindsey replied with a shit-eating grin. “Let’s test that hypothesis before we proceed with the other testing.”
“Ok,” Keith smiled, “but let’s blindfold him first.”
Nate was shaking his head violently to both suggestions. Soon a large scarf was placed around his head, cutting off the room. With Keith standing at his left foot and Lindsey at his right, he waited with trepidation.
Suddenly, both Karen grabbed the toes of both his feet and stretched them back, and Nate felt two feathers begin gliding up his feet and back down. After a few seconds, he began giggling helplessly, faster and faster. At a little over a minute, he began to laugh really hard, tears rolling down his cheeks. In another half minute, he was throwing his head from side-to-side and howling with laughter and struggling so violently it almost seemed as if he were going to break apart the rattan loveseat frame.
Looking at each other after another minute, the two men began sliding their feathers slowly back and forth between each one of his toes, producing wailing pleas for mercy. After 30 seconds of this, Karen called a halt from behind.
“Good thing you didn’t get to the quill yet,” she remarked smugly, “or he may have passed out before his real torture even begins.”
They hadn’t even feather-tickled Nate’s bare feet for three full minutes, but by now he was absolutely frantic. When he’d first conceived his plan, he had no idea whatsoever just how hopelessly and excrutiatingly ticklish he was all over his body, especially on his feet, which he had thought not really ticklish at all. And to be tickled while bound helplessly like this was just unbearable. There was no way he wanted that done to him again. Only now it was too late; escape was beyond hope.
“Awesome!” said Lindsey.
“That’s amazing!” shouted keith.
“Isn’t it though?” Karen agreed. “And we haven’t even started the official testing of his feet.”
“We can unblindfold him for that part, don’t you think?” Keith suggested.
The group agreed to the two men conduct the testing of the 13 spots on Nate’s feet, fearing the effects of Karen’s long sharp nails for that long this early: his ankles, the tops of his feet, the backs of his heels, the sides of the feet, the bottoms of his heels, the balls of his feet, his arches, his insteps, the flats of his soles, the lines underneath his toes, his toepads, the toe stems, and in between each of his toes, 15 seconds each but with brief, very brief, breaks in between. Three and a half minutes of tickling his hypersensitive bare feet.
Keith and Lindsey proceeded with the testing, using feathers and fingers and fingernails. At the end, the entire area of Nate’s soles and toes were judged off-the-scale, so Keith, who was keeping score, simply wrote infinity symbols besides of the 13 feet spots.
By now, Nate would have done absolutely anything to free himself, but there was no way to break free. Besides, they had taken away his clothes, and he had nothing left to bargain with after signing that affidavit.
Now, he faced the three ticklers coming to give him a taste of what was to come. Keith and Lindsey stood on either side of Nate while Helen now resumed her position at Nate’s feet.
After placing a knob-headed vibrator fixed to a sturdy stool of just the right height between his legs, Lindsey pushed it against Nate’s exposed asshole and turned it out. Immediately, Nate began to squirm and moan, his feet and toes wriggling wildy.
At a signal from Keith, the three began tickling their captive all at once. Nate’s eyes sprang from his head, then shut tight as he writhed and twisted and screamed and screeched and howled in ticklish misery. When they finally quit, not Nate collapsed in place, not moving.
Lindsey blindfolded him again and released his wrists from their clip while Karen and Keith released his ankles. After Keith clipped his wrist cuffs together and fixed an 18” chain between his ankle cuffs, the group led Nate downstairs to the basement.
They led him to a round bondage table in the center of the great room with a padded leather top from which protruded several metal clips. Strapping his ankles together as well as his thighs, they forced him to his knees on the table, and secured his ankle cuffs to a pair of the metal clips.
“Please excuse us while we get our equipment and tools,” Nate heard Keith say. “We’ll be right back to break you in.” Nate heard footsteps, then the lights went out and a door shut.
*****
Kneeling, naked, padded leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles, wearing a dog collar with a leash attached to it, hands flat on his thighs, blindfolded with a ball gag in his mouth, 19-year old Nate Watson was acutely conscious of his hyper-ticklish bare feet as he sat back against his heels. He moved his hands behind him and caressed his soft, smooth, pampered soles.
I couldn't stand tickling for five minutes, so how am I going to stand hours of it? And what about the sexual servitude, what if I’m totally repulsed by sex with men?
The thoughts made him both excited and terrified. And very, very horny. Whatever the case, the wheel was already spinning, his fate already decided.
WARNING: GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT AND NONCONSENSUAL SITUATIONS
NATE MAKES HIS WISH COME TRUE
Be Careful What You Wish For
Kneeling, naked, padded leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles, wearing a dog collar with a leash attached to it, hands flat on his thighs, blindfolded with a ball gag in his mouth, 19-year old Nate Watson was acutely conscious of his hyper-ticklish bare feet as he sat back against their heels. He moved his hands behind him and caressed his soft, smooth, pampered soles.
At the moment his mind was too frozen with fear and anticipation to even think, much less analyze exactly how he’d gotten himself into this position.
*****
Nate had joined a fraternity the start of his freshman year at the local state university. Their house stood in a historic, formerly run-down, neighborhood of Victorian homes that had been gentrified and revitalized. Although he enjoyed the fraternity activities, he felt somewhat awkward socially.
In fact, he only had one real friend at the fraternity, his best friend, Sam. Nate and Sam were polar opposites. Where Nate was shorter than average (5’6”) and skinny (120 lbs.), Sam was tall (6’5”) and a muscular 225 lbs. Nate was bookish and intellectual and anti-sports, Sam never read for fun, went more with his gut, and had played every major sport in high school. Nate was soft-spoken, Sam was gregarious and often the center of attention.
Where Sam had a girlfriend he had been with since junior year of high school, Nate was still a virgin. He had a very wild, active fantasy life, but mixed messages from his very religious mother growing up had left his sexual development stunted. Partly as a result of that, Nate developed a morbid fascination with bondage, discipline, domination, and submission, filled with fantasies of himself as a submissive or slave.
It had all started with a grade-B made-for-TV black comedy called “It Couldn’t Have Happened to a Nicer Guy”. The protagonist is picked up hitch-hiking after his car breaks down by a woman in a fur coat driving a drop-top Cadillac. The woman forces him to strip at gunpoint, rapes him in the backseat, then leaves him naked on the side of the road. The black comedy part is what follows in the results.
For Nate’s guilt-ridden, tortured libido, it was a sudden epiphany. All he had to do to escape the guilt he felt because of his fantasies was imagine a situation in which he was forced to perform sexual acts for someone else’s pleasure. Then he wouldn’t be “responsible”.
Nate had also had an obsession with tickling as a form of punishment or torture. He’d look at tickling websites and pore over and stare at photos of women being tickled and watch countless video-clips which really turned him on. While a few men might view these women with sympathy, most men (and some women) felt nothing but voracious lust and a desire to do to them was what being done in the photos and videos. Nate was different, however.
When Nate looked on the women writhing in desperation under their tickle tortures, helplessly laughing and screaming in ticklish agony, their faces contorted in a mix of ecstasy, anguish, and humiliation, tears of frustration flowing down their cheeks as they attempted to beg for mercy and gasped for breath, he felt nothing but an intense, almost overpowering envy.
Often he would fantasize about various situations where someone or ones would tickle him against his will. Just the thought of being tied up and tickled without mercy and not being able to do anything about it except suffer turned him on so much he would lie awake at night fantasizing about it.
Soon, these two directions in Nate’s sexual fantasy life mixed, and because of his empathetic, even if envious, identification with tickle-tortured women, Nate’s fantasies of being dominated sexually by women began to evolve into fantasies about men. He even began to have sexual reactions to men, even though he never had been attracted to men previously, in his freshman year at university. The carvings had gotten so intense that Nate bought a rubber dildo to use on his own ass.
He became so distraught that he confessed everything to Sam about his fantasies one night after a lengthy bout of drinking. Well, about his BDSM fantasies and unwanted attraction to other males; he kept the tickle fantasies to himself. It didn’t matter that Sam couldn’t really do anything about it, Nate just had to get it out or he would explode.
To his everlasting gratitude, Sam didn’t react with disgust or like he was a freak. Instead he posited that the urges toward other males may have come from the fact Nate was still a virgin and had for years had these intense kinky sexual fantasies about women sexually dominating him. He suggested that Nate pursue trying such an encounter on the web.
Sam, though, didn’t really believe people did those things, except maybe on some other plane of existence. He wasn’t a prude, just not very imaginative.
Sam’s (at least outward) understanding gave Nate some relief and a possible direction to go in, but he didn't want to just tell someone about his fantasy; he found it more of a turn-on to imagine being forced to submit. Besides, the Puritanical guilt with which he was afflicted wouldn’t let him pursue it. So, he tried to think of a set-up to get someone to do just it, and eventually started to consider actually arranging a situation where it would happen for real.
At the beginning of the summer between his freshman and sophomore years, an affluent couple named McKenzie moved into the house next door which had just been renovated. Karen was an anesthesiologist at a local hospital and Keith was a scion of an extremely wealthy Texas family who was a perpetual student who was a licensed attorney. She was a large woman, 6’ tall and about 180, much of which was muscle rather than flab. Keith was about 6’1” and 250.
At their house-warming party, to which everyone in the fraternity had been invited, he learned they belonged to the same religious denomination, only at a different parish. The choirmaster at their parish, Lindsey, had become so close to the two that he was almost like a third family member.
Soon, Nate, and Sam along with him, learned that Keith also had the best weed they’d ever smoked and didn’t kind sharing. Both of them also became aware that Keith was totally gay, but he never even made a pass at either of them.
In mid-summer, Sam, who was going to class full-time, started a waiter job, also full-time, and dropped out of the fraternity. Nate was left without his anchor.
In the fourth week of July, the fraternity held its second rush party of the summer, most of the festivities taking place in the vacant lot owned by the chapter lying between the frat house and Keith and Karen’s place.
Lindsey and Karen came over; Keith was out of town.
Seeing Lindsey sitting by himself and with no one around, Nate went over and sat down on the backed bench with him. Lindsey leaned over and put his arm around Nate’s shoulders.
“You know,” Lindsey began, “I really have a thing for redheads, especially good-looking redheads like you (Nate’s thick mane fell below his shoulders)!”
Nate just gaped in astonishment, not knowing how to respond.
“Have you ever thought about trying cross-dressing? Maybe getting on stage in drag?” asked Lindsey. “You’d look really delicious as a girl!”
Nate, who had indeed thought about that very thing on many occasion, stammered a denial.
“I bet you’d be great at sucking cock, and I’d love to find out!”
More than a little unnerved, Nate drained the rest of his glass and excused himself go down to the bar in the frat house basement for more beer.
Returning to the surface, Nate saw Karen sitting on the bench in place of Lindsey. He set down and started to tell Karen what had just happened.
Karen put her arm around him, leaned in very close, and asked, “This party is kind of lame; you wanna come over to our place? You can even spend the night.”
Karen was a very sensuous woman despite her size, but she was married to a friend. A little freaked out, Nate spent the rest of the evening in the basement bar. He told no one about the two encounters except for Sam, who remarked, laughing, “I bet the two of them wanted to have a Nate sandwich,” he laughed. More seriously, he added, “Maybe you should talk to Keith, at least about Lindsey.”
A couple of days later, Keith returned to the city and made plans with Nate to have lunch at the sports bar and gym downtown. After they finished eating, Nate still not having brought up his issues, Keith suggested, “Let’s get a couple of after-dinner drinks and get in the hot tub.”
Nate thought that sounded just decadent enough to make him relax, but replied, “Unfortunately I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“Not required. Each tub is in a private room, and towels are provided.”
“Ok, sure, why not?”
When they had been soaking for several minutes and Nate was just starting to relax enough to get to the point, he felt Keith’s hand “accidentally” brush his thigh. He blew it off.
“You, if you lived in the frat house,” Keith told him, “we could hang out much more often. I’d even be willing to pay your rent.”
“That’s very generous,” Nate answered. “Let me think about it.”
Keith’s hand then slid over his thigh into his crotch and Keith’s fingers lightly stroked his balls and cock.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “That’s not what I came here for.”
“Oh, I thought…um, nevermind,” Keith answered, smiling gently, not seeming even the least bit flustered. “Let’s just finish our drinks, then we can leave.”
For the next few weeks, Nate could think of little else, his mind wandering into the farthest reaches of what might have happened had he accepted either or the verbal invitations or the more directly implied one.
The first week of September, Keith called his cell.
“Hey, we’ve been wondering why you haven’t been around,” Keith said. “Your frat brothers have been missing you too.”
“Well, I’ve just been kind of busy,” Nate evaded the question, “and have had much free time.”
“If something’s bothering you, you can tell us,” Keith offered. “We’re planning a barbeque the Friday afternoon of Labor Day weekend. We can all talk then.”
“Why don’t I think about it and let you know?” said Nate noncommittally.
That evening and the next day, Nate thought about the invitation while the two scenes from the rush party and the one at the sports club were going through his mind yet again, and as he did so Sam’s suggestion sprang back to the surface of his mind, as well as his own idea about bringing about the realization of his fantasies. He realized he was considering trying to pull it off for real.
Am I really thinking about doing this? he asked himself.
That afternoon, Nate called up Keith. “Who’s going to be at the barbeque?”
“Just me and Karen,” replied Keith, “and Lindsey, of course.”
Nate hesitated at the idea that he might be about to start something he didn’t want to finish, but quickly pushed that thought aside and replied, “Of course, I’ll be there. Count me in.”
Hardly believing that he’d taken a small first step toward making his fantasies become reality, Nate collapsed back into his chair at his parents’ home. His wild idea might make both his fantasies come true, and at the same time and place. At first, he couldn't believe he was really considering it, but he got so breathless with anticipation that he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he really did want to do it.
Friday morning of Labor Day weekend, Nate was almost breathless with anticipation. To prepare the day before, he had shaved off all his body hair and gone to a salon for a professional pedicure, with a thorough exfoliation and smoothing, followed by a lengthy paraffin foot-bath.
In order to keep himself from chickening out, and so that he would be more vulnerable and helpless once there, he called Sam claiming a break down to ask for a lift.
“What are you going over there for?” Sam asked.
“We thought it would be a good idea for all four of us to talk it out,” Nate replied, “just like you suggested back in July.”
At about two in the afternoon, Sam pulled into the driveway.
“What’s the gym bag for?” he asked.
“These are just some things in case no one is sober enough to drive me home later,” Nate replied, “and I have to stay at the frat house.”
Upon their arrival, Nate got out of the car and watched Sam drive off. He turned to ascend the steps, heart pounding in his throat.
Just as he was about to knock, Keith opened the door with a warm smile.
“Hey! Thanks for coming,” he said. “Come on in and have a seat.”
He followed Keith into the parlor where Karen sat at one end of a full-size couch facing a side wall and Lindsey sat in arm chair next to it facing the door. An empty rattan loveseat with expensively embroidered cushions faced the couch.
“Would you like a drink?” asked Karen.
“Maybe a little weed?” added Lindsey.
“Yes, to both those, thanks.” Nate was desperately in need of some courage.
Keith sat at the other end of the couch and motioned for Nate to sit in the loveseat. When Karen returned with the burgundy and Lindsey with the weed, Keith loaded a bowl and they began passing it around, no one really saying much of anything, just looking at each other.
There were too many butterflies doing somersaults in Nate’s stomach. He was nervous as hell and wasn't sure if he still wanted to go through with his plan, but something had to be done to break the tension, which was almost palpable.
“We need an icebreaker!” he found himself blurting out. “Why don't we play a game?"
"What sort of game?" they asked.
"There’s this game I just made up,” Nate said, a bit hyper, “you could say especially for this occasion. I think you’ll all like it."
"What kind of game?" asked Keith.
"Let me show you" said Nate, a little too quickly, and he retrieved his gym bag to remove three paper bags, two small and one large. “It’s called ‘Truth or Dare, and Consequences’.”
Not trusting himself to keep speaking, Nate handed over to Karen a sheet of paper and said, “Here’s the rules,” as he put the three bags on the coffee table, one each labeled “Truth”, “Dare”, and “Consequences”.
“I think we should take turns reading these,” said Karen, looking at the list of rules. “I’ll go first.”
Holding the paper in front of her, she read, “At his or her turn, the player up must choose either Truth or Dare. A player cannot do the other in lieu of one like doing a Dare instead of a Truth in the regular game. Failure to do that is a losing turn.”
She passed the paper to Keith, who read, “If the player chooses ‘Truth’, they must draw out a question and hand it to another player, which they must answer truthfully no matter how embarrassing. If the player instead chooses ‘Dare’, then they have to draw a task and hand it to another player to read, which they must then perform. Should a player fail to successfully complete a dare (trying doesn’t count), refuse to answer a question, or answer a question untruthfully by unanimous view of the other players, they have to remove an article of clothing.”
Here, the three adults, all over forty, paused, grinning, giving Nate boldly lecherous looks.
He in turn passed it to Lindsey, who read, “The first player completely naked loses and must kneel down to all the others, who may then return to being fully dressed, and draw out the consequence of their loss from the appropriate bag, without looking at it. They hand over the slip of paper and find out the punishment to which they are sentenced to endure as it is read aloud to the whole group.”
All three were now grinning lasciviously at Nate.
"That does sound pretty cool," said Keith.
“Yes,” said Karen, “a very adult spin on the game.”
"Just what sorts of punishments are in the Consequences bag?" asked Lindsey, smirking.
"All kinds of things,” replied Nate as his heart pounded in his chest, “and you really don't want to lose because the Consequences are all really, really humiliating.”
Here Nate had to lick his bone dry lips. “Some Consequences are much worse than others,” he added, then noted, “There’s one in there so bad I would just die if it were me.”
After Nate grabbed another glass of wine, the four of them, the three older adults and the still-teenaged Nate, began to play. He, of course had no intention of trying to win.
He was also going to make sure that he picked one punishment in particular that he had carefully taped to the bottom of the bag's interior!
As they played the game, everyone answered embarrassing questions and attempted to carry out the various stupid dares. Each time Nate deliberately flubbed a dare (and he flubbed them all), it gave him a small thrill to think of what it was leading to. He did draw out a number of Truth questions, and everyone else found out he was a straight and bi/gay virgin. He refused to answer whether he had used a dildo on himself and whether he had bi curious feelings, but his red face gave him away.
Soon, all the players were in various stages of undress, no one with less than three or four articles of clothing, except for Nate. Nate only had his shoes remaining, and before the start of the game all the players had decided, at his suggestion, that both shoes counted as one article.
There was one question in the Truth bag that he had taped to the bottom to make sure he got himself rather than another player. Having waited until just this point, he drew out the special question and handed it to Keith, who had just completed a Dare.
Keith grinned really big when he saw the question. He looked at Nate, grinning even wider, and said, “This question has four parts and you must answer all of them in order for your answer to count, otherwise you lose the turn, and the game. Are you ready, Nate?”
Nate swallowed hard. “Yes, sir,” he stammered.
“You don’t have to be so formal, Nate,” Keith chuckled, “we’re all friends, after all. And here we go,” he said, looking directly in Nate’s eyes, “Part One: Are you ticklish?”
“OH MY GOD!” he said immediately his hands going to his mouth. Nate didn’t have to fake his reaction. His stomach dropped hard, and he blanched, his eyes wide and his mouth dry, even though he knew what it was going to be. As his face flushed bright red and he looked down at the floor, he replied, “Yes.”
Everyone giggled and chuckled and suddenly became intensely interested and focused.
“Part Two: How ticklish are you?” Keith asked, now grinning like a hyena.
“Oh God, I’m extremely ticklish!” Nate blurted out, his chagrin apparent to all. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this in front of other people; I’m so embarrassed
“Part Three: Is tickling a playful, pleasurable experience that you enjoy, or is it a torment you avoid at all costs?”
“Tickling is torture,” Nate replied in a soft voice. “I can’t stand being tickled the least little bit. I absolutely hate it!”
Inside, Nate truly believed he was lying in those last two answers, doing so in order to arouse their interest in subjecting him to tickle-torture. He had no idea how true his statements were about to become.
“Well,” said Lindsey, “I guess you had better stay away from anyone who might decide to tickle you, shouldn’t you?” The “like us” went unsaid.
“Part Four: where are you the most ticklish?” Keith inquired, reading from the paper, “and rate from 1 to 100 how ticklish you are everywhere on your body.”
This was the point which Nate had been waiting for. He thought knew where he was most ticklish, but had never really been tickled so he couldn’t answer the second half of Part Four.
“I refuse to answer that question on the grounds it may jeopardize me,” he finally replied. He thought that Keith, as a licensed but non-practicing lawyer, might like that answer. Indeed, he did snort in amusement before speaking.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” his interrogator said with predatory glee. “Remove your last article of clothing. Or they will be removed for you.”
As much as the thought of being stripped of his shoes excited him, Nate bent over and started to slowly untie both his shoes.
“Wait a minute,” Karen said, moving a footstool into the circle of chairs, loveseat, and couch, “I think you should sit here facing all of us. This is, after all, the last move of the game.”
“Let’s all participate,” suggested Lindsey. “One of us can hold him down while the other two remove his shoes; we can draw lots for that. .”
“Good idea,” Keith remarked. “But let’s put him in the floor with his legs and feet up on the stool. One of us can hold him from behind.”
In the end, Keith and Lindsey, who’d won the draw, placed themselves in front of his feet hanging over the edge of the stool, while Karen held him sitting up.
Keith and Lindsey began to slowly untie Nate’s K-Swiss boat sneakers, worn with no socks, then to unlace them in order to drag out the moment as long as possible. After a couple of torturous minutes, for Nate, the shoestrings were tossed to the ground. Then the two swiftly removed the stringless sneakers and tossed them across the room.
A chill of apprehension and anticipation ran down Chuck’s spine as the cool inside air hit his bare feet, now exposed to the view of all. He was very apprehensive what they might say when they saw his well-pedicured feet and shiny black-polished toenails.
“Wow! Look at his bare feet! Those are prettier than most girls’ feet.”
“Oh my God, are they as soft as they look? How do keep them so soft and smooth?”
“How sweet, you painted your cute little toenails for us!”
“Ok, ok,” Keith commanded as Lindsey dragged his armchair to beside the couch, “the game is over and you, Nate, are officially the loser. Kneel down in front of the three of us now and draw out what your punishment is going to be from the Consequences bag.”
Nate knelt in the floor as he was told, highly self-conscious of being naked and barefoot before three much older adults whose aggressive sexual overtures he had spurned the past month.
“Are you ready?” Keith asked.
“Yes, sir,” Nate replied nervously, trembling. “After all, I lost fair and square.”
Lindsey held out the bag of Consequences for Nate.
Nate felt into it, and his fingers quickly found it taped to the bottom of the bag.
Once I pulled this from the bag, he thought, it’s really going to happen! I’ll have no choice but to follow through!
Nate was very uneasy. He really had no idea what it would feel like to be tied down and tickled didn't know how much he would be able to take. He knew this was his last chance to chicken out, pull a different punishment from the Consequences bag. But he didn't give himself a moment to reconsider and quickly plucked the note out of the bag and passed it to Keith.
Nate bit his bottom lip as Keith unfolded the note, he was so anxious about the reactions that they would have when they read it.
"As the loser," announced Keith, he paused as a big smirk appeared on his face, "you shall be tied spread-eagle to a bed, still naked, and blindfolded. All the winners shall then tickle you relentlessly, without mercy and without cease, for no less than TWO FULL HOURS nonstop.
“I guess we’ll find out where all those ticklish spots are after all,” Lindsey leered, “and now ticklish each and every one is.”
“There is no upper limit on length of time,” Keith continued, “nor is there a limit on degree of severity or on the number of simultaneous ticklers nor is there any safe-word. Should you faint, you will be woken with smelling salts and given a five-minute break; however, an additional ten minutes shall then be added to the minimum time of your tickle-torture.”
His eyes widened and his grin grew larger as he skimmed down before continuing. “Once you are completely broken into absolute submission, you shall serve as a sex slave to all the other players for the rest of the weekend, from the minute your initial torture ends thru to the next workday morning.”
“That would be Tuesday, I believe,” Karen noted with a wicked smile, arching an eyebrow and licking her lips, “since this is Labor Day weekend. A whole three and a half days.”
“The only hard limits are that there shall be no permanent physical harm, no toilet slavery, no asphyxiation play, and no bestiality,” Keith resumed. “Throughout the weekend, Tickle Hell rules apply; this means that during this period you may be tickle-tortured at any time under the same guidelines as at the first, including while you are providing sexual gratification.”
“I know what we need to do first,” Karen announced her right eyebrow raised. Looking down at Nate kneeling naked in the floor, she said, “Get on all fours, slave.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nate replied, only to get a swift, hard smack on his bare bottom.
“That’s, ‘Yes, Mistress,’ slave,” Karen ordered sternly. “And you shall address Keith and Lindsey as ‘Master’.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Nate corrected.
“That’s better,” said Karen, with another smack, then turned to the others. “If you’ll excuse me I will be right back in a couple of minutes.”
She returned with a large, hospital quality enema bag, just filled up.
“Put your head to the floor, slave,” she ordered, “and raise your ass in the air.”
With a latex glove on, she spread KY jelly on two fingers then eased them into Nate’s ass and rotated them back and forth several times, smiling.
“Well,” mused Lindsey, “I guess that answers the question about whether he’s used a dildo in his ass before.”
“Yeah,” added Keith, “there’s no way that ass hasn’t been widened.”
Karen stuck the nozzle as far into Nate’s asshole as it would go, then released the cut-off valve to let a medium stream flow into his rectum.
“You better not spill one drop on that carpet,” Keith told him sternly, or you’ll be paying for a new one in addition to getting your ass tanned like never before.”
Nate had never been so humiliated in his life.
When the bag was empty, Karen said told the group, “Now we wait until slave’s need to evacuate becomes urgent.”
Looking down at Nate, she stressed, “And I mean urgent. Then you can relieve yourself in the downstairs half-bath; leave the door open. Afterwards, take a quick but thorough shower, then come back out here.”
That accomplished, Nate returned fifteen minutes later. He was wearing the short flowery silk robe Karen had left in the bathroom with a note pinned to it instructing him to do so.
The Persian rug upon which he’d been kneeling during the reading of his sentence had been removed, revealing the beautiful wood floor. The couch had been dragged to one side of the room and Keith, Karen, and Lindsey sat upon it. The loveseat was moved back toward the other wall. The adults were all three completely dressed again.
A nervous looking man in his thirties stood behind the couch.
“Kneel, slave,” Lindsey instructed, “facing us all.”
“Yes, Master,” Nate complied.
“Now,” said Karen, “raise your arms above your head and bow down to the floor, palms and fingers flat on the surface.”
“Now, repeat everything after me,” Keith commanded. “Of my own free will, I, Nate, also known as Natanya, surrender myself wholly and complete, heart and mind, body and soul, to the total domination of the Masters and Mistresses before me. I promise to obey every command; to submit to every discipline, punishment, and humiliation they choose to inflict upon me; to provide every form of sexual gratification they demand; and to serve with equal enthusiasm every member of the group and any others outside the group with whom they share me.”
When Nate had finished his verbal oath, Karen commanded him to sit up.
“This man behind us is the paralegal who used to work for Keith when he was still practicing,” she said. “He’s here to witness the affidavit we’re all going to sign.”
“I drew this up myself, while you were in the head,” Keith informed him. “You go first.”
Nate saw that it was a legal affidavit of consent which read: “I, Nate Watson, agree to play the role of a consensual sex slave to the undersigned from the moment this document is complete until next Tuesday morning, under the terms previously agreed to. I affirm that I do so of my own free will and absolve both them and all others with whom they share me under the terms of this agreement of all criminal and civil liability for any and all actions resulting therefrom, provided those action are within said terms.”
After the affidavit was signed by all and notarized, the harried paralegal immediately departed.
When he was gone, Keith ordered Nate to remove the robe, kneel, spread out his ankles, and raise his arms over his head. The adults put soft leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles and a collar around his neck with a leash attached.
He heard some shuffling, things being moved. Then they ordered him to close his eyes.
In the center of that wooden floor directly in front of him was a leather-covered half-cylinder with a thick rubber dildo about seven inches long mounted on top of one end. The device was fixed securely to the floor with previously hidden metal clamps. At the other end was a raised circular handle with two metal clips like on his leash on either end. Nate noticed that small tiles had been removed from the floor on either side of the dildo end to expose metal clips there too.
“Ok, slave,” commanded Lindsey, pulling down on his leash, “let’s see how good you suck cock.”
“Yes, Master,” Nate submissively answered. Bending over, he placed his mouth over the dildo and began sucking.
He felt a belt smack his ass and cried out in protest.
“I mean really suck it, slave,” Lindsey explained, “lick it like you would a lolly-pop or an ice cream cone too. Suck it like you’re trying to suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. And yes, you are going to have to deepthroat the whole thing.”
Nate was so mortified and so absorbed in what he was doing that he barely registered the flashes from the digital cameras or the vidcam.
The whole group was cheering and clapping in time.
“Ok, that’s enough,” Keith finally ordered after a few minutes. “Now sit back on your heels out of Mistress Karen’s way so she can prepare for step two.”
“Yes, Master,” Nate replied as he complied.
Karen brought out her latex gloves and KY again, this time lubing up the dildo.
“Ok, slave, you know what to do,” Keith ordered, “mount that cock.”
Nate positioned his asshole over the head of the rubber cock. With a gyrating motion, he obediently lowered himself slowly down.
Once he had completely skewered himself, Adam and Steve each secured a wrist to the handle while Bob and Helen secured his ankles to the floor.
“Now, slut, ride that cock like there’s no tomorrow,” Keith ordered.
“Lindsey will be behind you to provide any needed encouragement,” suggested Karen.
Lindsey stood by, belt in hand (Nate’s own belt he noticed), smiling eagerly. Nate began to ride, slowly at first.
Soon he felt the crack of the belt on his ass again. “Faster, slave, faster,” Lindsey shouted. “Fuck that cock like you’re trying to make it cum.” A few more smacks repeatedly, then an occasional one now and then gave Nate all the encouragement he needed.
Soon Nate was moaning loudly, heedless of the spectacle he was making.
To more cheers, urging, laughter, and ridicule, the lights of digital cameras and videocams flashed and shone. Just when he ass was starting to get comfortable with the huge (to Nate) rubber cock in his ass, Keith raised his hand, calling a halt.
“We can’t let you accidentally cum this early, can we?” Karen said. “Where would be the fun in that for us?”
After Nate had been released, dismounted, and cleaned the KY from between his asscheeks, he was brought back into the room and set down in the center of the loveseat. The loveseat was a low-backed rattan import. They fastened both his wrists to a clip that had been attached in the center behind his head, and his ankles to clips attached at the corners.
Finished, all members of the group sat back to watch their captive slave’s reaction to his predicament.
Nate had never been restrained anything like this before and the sensation frightened and excited him at the same time. He felt totally vulnerable, stretched out so obscenely before three older adults who had come onto him so aggressively and in such secure restraint that he knew there was no way he could get free.
They can do whatever they liked to me now, thought Nate, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it!
The feeling of being bound like that before these three all leering at him made him breathless with fear, though at the same time it really thrilled him. He playfully struggled against his bonds, wriggling his body and his hands and feet, both to test the restraints and to demonstrate to his Masters and Mistress his utter helplessness.
Just at that point, Lindsey stood up, strolled around to the big picture window behind the group, the one facing the fraternity house across the vacant lot, and swiftly opened the curtains.
At this, Nate began struggling furiously in his bonds, pleading with them to close the curtains.
“Stop struggling and remain still,” Lindsey ordered sternly. “It’s still bright daylight outside, and with the basement coming above ground the windows are hardly ground level.”
“In other words, no one should be able to see you,” noted Karen. “This is just to demonstrate how completely you are in our power.”
“Yes, we can expose you at any time,” said Keith. “In fact, I just uploaded all that digital video footage and photos we just took to our hard drive. Fail to comply and remain submissive and obedient, they get uploaded to a website and the URL sent to every member of your fraternity and your church.”
Nate’s stomach dropped hard when he heard Keith’s speech. The truth of the matter that this was no longer a game where he was in control, a situation he himself had deliberately contrived to get into, flooded over him. Perversely, he found this arousing and quickly became erect.
“Now, before we take your downstairs to break you in with that two or more hours of tickling,” Keith said, “we need to test everywhere to see what your ticklish spots are and how ticklish each of them is.”
Lindsey held up two pieces of poster board, one with spots on his upper body listed, the other with spots on his feet. “These are the scorecards,” he said, “scoring 1-10.”
“I have a confession to make,” Karen interjected. “Nate here volunteered to a family friend to test a new EKG machine at her office last year at the medical center. Just attaching the sensor pads to his skin made him squirm. They rolled up sheets of paper and kept poking him all over whenever the machine wasn’t running.” She paused and grinned. “He’s ticklish everywhere!”
The others seemed to greatly appreciate Karen’s information. Nate was just embarrassed.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” Keith began. We’ve made a list of potentially ticklish spots on your body—arms, ribcage, sides, belly, lower back, thighs, and 23 others—that we are going to test for 15 seconds each, with fingers or feathers or nails as appropriate. Your feet are in a whole category by themselves, with 13 spots to be tested but on both feet at the same time. “
“Once every spot is tested and rated from one to ten,” Karen continued, “all three of us will tickle you all over your body and feet for 5 minutes, to give you a taste of what’s in store for you. In case you’re trying to figure it out, it’s a little over 15 minutes total.”
“Which doesn’t come off your overall time,” stressed Lindsey. “Since you didn’t want to, or couldn’t, tell us yourself, we have to find out for ourselves.”
He then rose and closed the drapes as Karen put a ball gag in his mouth.
The body-testing proceeded according to plan. Nate alternately giggled, laughed, screeched, guffawed, and screamed with laughter while worming and writhing and twisting. True to Karen’s account they found no spot less than an 8, some were 9, most were 10, and a few 10+.
As Nate sat gasping in relief at the brief respite, Karen walked up to the loveseat to which he was bound and ran her sharp-nailed fingers up, down, and back up his buttery soft soles.
The results were explosive. Nate’s back arched completely off the loveseat and he screamed loudly, writhing and squirming after he landed back down.
Somewhat startled at first, Karen stepped back in wonder. After their initial shock, the adults began whooping and hollering and cheering. No one, however, was more stunned than Nate, who couldn’t believe his feet were that ticklish. After all, he had tried to tickle them himself to very little effect.
“You know, boys,” Karen said, handing two stiff-looking turkey feathers to Keith and Lindsey, “I believe these pretty little bare soles just might be susceptible to the touch of a feather, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, completely,” Lindsey replied with a shit-eating grin. “Let’s test that hypothesis before we proceed with the other testing.”
“Ok,” Keith smiled, “but let’s blindfold him first.”
Nate was shaking his head violently to both suggestions. Soon a large scarf was placed around his head, cutting off the room. With Keith standing at his left foot and Lindsey at his right, he waited with trepidation.
Suddenly, both Karen grabbed the toes of both his feet and stretched them back, and Nate felt two feathers begin gliding up his feet and back down. After a few seconds, he began giggling helplessly, faster and faster. At a little over a minute, he began to laugh really hard, tears rolling down his cheeks. In another half minute, he was throwing his head from side-to-side and howling with laughter and struggling so violently it almost seemed as if he were going to break apart the rattan loveseat frame.
Looking at each other after another minute, the two men began sliding their feathers slowly back and forth between each one of his toes, producing wailing pleas for mercy. After 30 seconds of this, Karen called a halt from behind.
“Good thing you didn’t get to the quill yet,” she remarked smugly, “or he may have passed out before his real torture even begins.”
They hadn’t even feather-tickled Nate’s bare feet for three full minutes, but by now he was absolutely frantic. When he’d first conceived his plan, he had no idea whatsoever just how hopelessly and excrutiatingly ticklish he was all over his body, especially on his feet, which he had thought not really ticklish at all. And to be tickled while bound helplessly like this was just unbearable. There was no way he wanted that done to him again. Only now it was too late; escape was beyond hope.
“Awesome!” said Lindsey.
“That’s amazing!” shouted keith.
“Isn’t it though?” Karen agreed. “And we haven’t even started the official testing of his feet.”
“We can unblindfold him for that part, don’t you think?” Keith suggested.
The group agreed to the two men conduct the testing of the 13 spots on Nate’s feet, fearing the effects of Karen’s long sharp nails for that long this early: his ankles, the tops of his feet, the backs of his heels, the sides of the feet, the bottoms of his heels, the balls of his feet, his arches, his insteps, the flats of his soles, the lines underneath his toes, his toepads, the toe stems, and in between each of his toes, 15 seconds each but with brief, very brief, breaks in between. Three and a half minutes of tickling his hypersensitive bare feet.
Keith and Lindsey proceeded with the testing, using feathers and fingers and fingernails. At the end, the entire area of Nate’s soles and toes were judged off-the-scale, so Keith, who was keeping score, simply wrote infinity symbols besides of the 13 feet spots.
By now, Nate would have done absolutely anything to free himself, but there was no way to break free. Besides, they had taken away his clothes, and he had nothing left to bargain with after signing that affidavit.
Now, he faced the three ticklers coming to give him a taste of what was to come. Keith and Lindsey stood on either side of Nate while Helen now resumed her position at Nate’s feet.
After placing a knob-headed vibrator fixed to a sturdy stool of just the right height between his legs, Lindsey pushed it against Nate’s exposed asshole and turned it out. Immediately, Nate began to squirm and moan, his feet and toes wriggling wildy.
At a signal from Keith, the three began tickling their captive all at once. Nate’s eyes sprang from his head, then shut tight as he writhed and twisted and screamed and screeched and howled in ticklish misery. When they finally quit, not Nate collapsed in place, not moving.
Lindsey blindfolded him again and released his wrists from their clip while Karen and Keith released his ankles. After Keith clipped his wrist cuffs together and fixed an 18” chain between his ankle cuffs, the group led Nate downstairs to the basement.
They led him to a round bondage table in the center of the great room with a padded leather top from which protruded several metal clips. Strapping his ankles together as well as his thighs, they forced him to his knees on the table, and secured his ankle cuffs to a pair of the metal clips.
“Please excuse us while we get our equipment and tools,” Nate heard Keith say. “We’ll be right back to break you in.” Nate heard footsteps, then the lights went out and a door shut.
*****
Kneeling, naked, padded leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles, wearing a dog collar with a leash attached to it, hands flat on his thighs, blindfolded with a ball gag in his mouth, 19-year old Nate Watson was acutely conscious of his hyper-ticklish bare feet as he sat back against his heels. He moved his hands behind him and caressed his soft, smooth, pampered soles.
I couldn't stand tickling for five minutes, so how am I going to stand hours of it? And what about the sexual servitude, what if I’m totally repulsed by sex with men?
The thoughts made him both excited and terrified. And very, very horny. Whatever the case, the wheel was already spinning, his fate already decided.
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