IrvingKrebb
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Some women appear to have been carved in secret by an impetuous apprentice while God was away from the shop. They are women who, rather than age, collect and incorporate every attractive feminine quality the years provide, adding layers and layers of aesthetic perfection; beautiful and lethally cute. Teresa was one such woman; seated across the table from, and contrasted perfectly against, the grizzled, half-kempt image of one Irving Krebb.
Krebb's reaction to first seeing Teresa, fifteen years prior, was a sudden urge to apologize. Her ability to reflect light far exceeded his own and he felt obliged to apologize for his inequity. Somehow, by the grace of some anonymous divinity, he reckoned, he was able to muster the necessary charms needed to convince her to allow him access to her marvelous scenery those many years ago. And now, sitting across form her, with the light making no effort to hide it's exuberance in bouncing off her many attributes, he wondered if he could do it again.
She sat there nearly exactly as he remembered her. Her hair was a bit longer and a bit darker, but her smile still had the effect of painfully knotting his chest and her adorable giggle made the soles of his feet tingle. Krebb felt like that shy twenty-three year old again, certain that if there existed, just beneath her soft, pale, skin, a specific semblance of nerves; and if the regions where those special nerves hid were susceptible to subtle, tactile manipulations; and if those manipulations caused the responses he was hoping to elicit; he'd die. When he finally found those special spots on Teresa's exquisitely sculpted body, after man clumsy attempts, he again thanked that anonymous divinity because he didn't die.
Krebb indulged the memory: it was some summer weekend and him and Teresa were fooling around in the room she'd rented from some insane old lush and her chair-addled husband. There was kissing and fondling and laughing, and then she was lying prone on the bed, him sitting next to her, staring into her eyes and feeling the lower-half-tingles. She was wearing a loose white shirt and loose jeans; she was barefoot and giggly and perfect. He gently lifted the edge of her shirt and began tracing soft circles just to the left of her bellybutton. She giggled a little and playfully grabbed at his hands. He leaned over and kissed her hard on the lips and let his hands slide under her shirt, gently stroking her sides; still kissing. When the tips of his fingers reached the top of her ribcage, Teresa pulled away in a spasm of ticklish laughter. Krebb's fingers danced over her her ribs, tickling her into fits; her head was thrown back, laughing uncontrollably; her hands flying blind trying to protect herself from the savage attack. It only lasted a a minute or two, Krebb knew she couldn't take much more; best to quit while she was obviously enjoying herself than to have it turn into a feeling more akin to torture.
That was a far away memory and one he'd cherished ever since. He'd often wondered if she remember that moment but never asked; chances are she wouldn't have; chances are it was a scene she'd enacted with other men who saw it only as a means to a more obvious end; men with no imagination and no appreciation for innocent pleasures. Always tempted but never willing to ask Teresa if she remembered that day, he now had a chance to do it again, this time with the genius of hindsight promising a far more pleasurable conclusion. But only if she was willing. Krebb's daydream ended abruptly:
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, noticing the far-away look and slight smile.
“Oh, things...how was your dinner?”
“Very good, how was yours?”
“Lovely, what's next?”
“I want to see your house.”
“Chateau Krebb? Okay...you sure?”
“Yeah, let's go.”
“Alright, then.”
Dinner was paid for; they jumped in a cab and made their winding way up the hill to Chateau Krebb.
“Creepy up here...” she said, and then giggled, “do you have any neighbors?”
“None that I know of...”
There were no other houses on the hill. The previous owners of Chateau Krebb had been wealthy eccentrics; paranoids with enough money to hole up in the big house and have whatever they needed brought to them via the big winding road that led up the hill. There was only one road up the hill, which made it impossible for anyone in a vehicle to sneak up on the place. Krebb liked the solitude and he liked being able to look down and listen to the far away noises float up from the town. He wasn't as crazy as the previous owners, he made regular trips into town for supplies and things; but he preferred living alone and being mysterious; weird but harmless; creepy but polite.
The cabbed stopped and they got out and walked up the stairs to the big, iron door. Krebb produced an old timey key; the lock creaked and the pins clicked and he pushed open the door.
“Come on in, make yourself at home.”
Teresa sat down and kicked off her shoes (women do this so innocently but know exactly what it does to a man.) She curled her legs under and settled nicely into the big-cushioned, overstuffed couch. Krebb fixed her a drink and handed it to her and then made one for himself. He sat himself down across from her in his old, beat up arm chair. He lit a cigarette and motioned that it was fine to smoke in the house. Teresa lit a cigarette, leaned back and admired the strange decor.
“Very nice,” she said, “very you.”
“Thanks, I decorated myself.”
“Do you get many visitors?”
“No, not many.”
“Hmm...so what do you want to do?”
“Oh, I can think of a few things...”
Krebb said that last line with as much charm as he could muster. It dripped with charm and he hoped she found it charming. She smiled like it did but he couldn't be sure. The waters would need to be tested further. He got up and walked over to the big couch and sat down next to Teresa in that kind of half-leaning-towards-her kinda way that men do when putting the moves on. His moves were rusty but at least she was sitting on his left, which was a start.
Teresa looked at him and smiled and let him talk his shit knowing full well what his intentions were. For his part, Krebb used his best shit and tried very hard to look cool doing it. Having experience with the sort of shit most men talk in similar situations, and being terribly amused by the effort, Teresa finally couldn't keep a straight face and started laughing. The wounded puppy look on Krebb's face made her laugh more. When his eyes moved to the floor, defeated, she quickly lunged forward and kissed him. It took a minute to catch up but when he did everything came back to him. They smooched on the couch and all was right the world.
Smooching, however, can only go on so long when you're a grown-up. After a while it's time to move on to other things requiring less and less clothing. Realizing this moment had come, Krebb stopped and leaned back on the couch. He gently lifted her little bare feet into his lap and began stroking her soles, softly.
“That feels good.” (she almost purred.)
He'd remember that though her feet weren't ticklish (sadly) she did enjoy having them played with. He stroked her soles and fluttered his fingers beneath her adorable little toes sparking a giggle here and there but nothing serious. And then:
“I have a suggestion.” he said.
“What's that?”
“Why don't I show you what's downstairs.”
“You're bedroom?” she smiled.
“No, that's down the hall; downstairs, is, well, let's go look...”
“Okay.” She said this a little warily but trusted that he wouldn't be murdering her this evening.
“I won't be murdering you this evening.” he said.
Through a not-secret, yet, well-hidden door, Krebb led her down to the basement. It was at the bottom of a long spiral staircase; a dimly lit, decidedly round room. The walls were bookshelves holding at least a few hundred volumes. It wasn't basement-like at all, Teresa thought, there was a lot of old, dark wood; the floors were made of wood and the roof looked like pressed tin. In the center of the room was some kind of table. When Krebb flicked on the lights she could see it clearly: a long padded table with straps hanging off the sides and ankle stocks at one end. It looked both menacing and oddly comfortable. Being a fun loving kind of gal, she immediately hopped up and laid back with her arms behind her head looking very relaxed.
“What's this for?” she said.
“I think you know.”
“You want to tie me up then.”
“That's the idea, yeah.”
“And then what?”
“What?”
“What are you going to do to me when I'm all tied up?”
Krebb thought about the question for a long time. He lit another cigarette and paced a little looking for the right words.
“Well, let me tell you what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to hurt you and I'm not going to do anything weird or inappropriate. Mostly, what I'll be doing is touching you.”
“Touching me.”
“Yeah, touching...I think you'll enjoy it.”
They'd known each other for years and thought they hadn't seen each other in a very long time, Teresa was still confident that Krebb was still the same harmless guy she remembered. A little crazier now, maybe, but harmless.
“Okay,” she said, “go ahead.”
And with that she stretched her arms above her head and lifted her ankles into the receiving end of the stocks at her feet.
“Wait,” she said, “should I get undressed first?”
“No, no, that's alright.”
She was dressed casually: a long skirt and a tank-top along with the usual set of undergarments.
“How attached are you to your clothes anyway? I mean, if something should happen to them, could I buy you something else?”
Strange question, she thought, but realized what he as up to and smiled and said,
“I guess so.”
Krebb rubbed his hands together and wiggled his fingers maniacally. He walked over to the foot of the table and locked Teresa's ankles in place. Then he leaned over, kissed her once, and then secured her wrists in the bindings. Moving to the side of the table he fiddled with some sort of crank which slowly stretched the table and Teresa with it, which caused her a sudden moment of concern and more than a little thrill.
“Whoa,” she said, laughing nervously, “What is that!”
“Don't worry, the table is adjustable, I'm just setting it to your size.”
More nervous laughter.
The machine now set, Krebb stood to the side and decided that nothing, no person or thing could be more beautiful than Teresa was this moment. Stretched out, grinning, nervous, and game for whatever was going to happen next. He told himself to remain calm and take his time...opportunities like these are few and far between. His hands had started trembling.
Carefully Krebb lifted her shirt revealing a flawless expanse of belly skin and her tiny, vertical navel. He ran a finger down the line of her stomach and across her belly button. He kept an eye on her expressions and watched for any sign that he'd grazed a sensitive area. His finger tips barely made contact with her soft, warm skin, they glided like feathers around her curves, exploring and testing while his eyes took careful notes. Her reactions were what he was after.
He moved down to her right leg and slowly hitched up the hem of her skirt to the middle of her smooth, inviting legs. He let his fingers take their time tracing abstract shapes along the insides of her thighs and was rewarded with a twitch and a giggle as he glided into the hollow behind her knee. Down her calf and around, gently raking nails across her sensitive shin and down to her ankle. The middle finger of his right hand firmly meandered the top of her tiny foot, over her toes and then joined the rest of the fingers in a maddening fluttering up and down her sole. Teresa giggle despite herself. Maybe her soles were ticklish. Maybe the sensation of being tied down had heightened her sensitivity. Even if she were humoring him, the effect was working. The blood was flowing quickly to the south of Krebb's pants and he the urge to touch himself was unbearable.
But he didn't.
Sensing he was heating up to quickly, Irving Krebb took a step back, took a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and inhaled deeply. He smiled and she smiled back, and then he turned and opened a drawer under part of the bookcase. He produced a large pair of surgical scissors and held them up for dramatic effect.
"Now don't be scared.” he said, “I'm only holding these up for dramatic effect.”
Teresa laughed and said it was fine; she knew what would be happening next.
Very carefully, after setting his cigarette aside, he began systematically cutting Teresa's tank-top to ribbons. He cut through the shoulder straps and then straight down the middle. Then he slid what was left out from under her and tossed it over his shoulder. He cut did the same to her skirt, starting at the bottom and cutting slowly up the middle. When he reached her waist line he allowed the cold steel of the scissors to graze her lower belly causing her a small, electric shiver.
Now clad in only a black bra and matching panties, Teresa tried to brace for whatever came next. She stared at the ceiling and then closed her eyes; a slight smile crossed her lips. She felt the bra and the panties snap off and then she was naked. Suddenly there was something soft and feathery bouncing across her naked skin, which had gone goose-bumped with the sensation. She opened her eyes and watched as a long, peacock feather, wielded by a wild eyed Krebb, tickled her. She found it both pleasurable and maddening. It bounced and fluttered across her breasts and highly sensitive nipples; then down her stomach, it stayed a while when it got to her pelvis then moved to her thighs – down one and up the other. She felt a peculiar itch everyone the feather touched and she writhed under the restraints feeling herself getting wetter.
After what seemed like hours the feather stopped and was replaced by Krebbs warm hands caressing her, satisfying the maddening itch and leaving behind a warmth which radiated from his palms. Teresa felt completely relaxed and thought to herself that if this was it, it as enough, she felt tired and dreamy and could probably fall asleep in spite of being tied down. But that wasn't going to happen any time soon.
Once again Krebb stepped back and lit a cigarette. He allowed Teresa to enjoy the feeling for a while because very soon the real fun would begin. He walked over to her and brushed her hair back behind her ear. He leaned in close and studied her eyes; they were peaceful and half-lidded...so beautiful, he thought, so beautiful.
“What's next?” she said softly.
Krebb said nothing, he stubbed out his cigarette and went over to a small sink she hadn't noticed and washed his hands. He dried them on a white towel, cracked his knuckles and walked towards her. He looked as though he could walk through a wall. Teresa felt her body tense in preparation for whatever he was about to do. He raised his index finger and started tracing circles around her belly button. Teresa giggled.
“Now,” he said, “I have a very good memory, better than most, and I remember things that most people don't bother remembering. This could be because I am afflicted with this rather peculiar fetish, or it could be that...no, it's probably the fetish. Anyway, I seem to remember that Teresa has a spot, a very, very ticklish spot that I found once but never really got to enjoy to my satisfaction.”
As he spoke, Teresa noticed the circles were getting larger and his fingers lingering on specific spots which had previously caused her to react. A slight twitch, a soft giggle; reactions most people wouldn't have noticed Krebb had mentally logged when he was using the feather. He'd been testing her to see what spots might provide the reaction he was looking for, and now, he was testing his findings. Tickling fingers found the ticklish spots along her sides and belly. His thumbs pressed gently but firmly into her pelvis got a good laugh out of her and some pretty good struggling. He squeezed the tops of her thighs and crept down to the tops of her knees drawing more and more tortured laughter from her. His fingers scribbled down her shins and finally stopped at the soles of her feet, where his finger nails turned weapons-grade and her feet that weren't ticklish betrayed her. It was sensory overload. Every ticklish spot on her body, known and unknown to her, lit up, one after the other as he attacked them one by one. She was bucking and pulling on her restraints laughing wildly, breathing hard and - to her amazement - enjoying it. Krebb's fingers were tireless and moved as fast as a hummingbird, fluttering here and then there; then over there, never letting her rest. Her laughter became an endless chorus of varying tones and mixed giggles. It was as if he was playing her like a musical instrument; each set of nerves bringing a variation to the rhythm of the song. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, he stopped.
Out of breath, half-panting, half-giggling, her chest heaving and her skin glowing rosy, Teresa was given a break. Krebb leaned on the edge of the table and watched her. She was vibrating.
“Did you enjoy that?” he said softly.
“I...can't...breathe...ha, oh...shit...ha ha ha...”
“Did you enjoy that?” he said again.
“...mmm...yes...yes.”
Krebb seemed pleased with himself. Teresa looked at him as he wiped the tiny beads of sweat from her forehead and saw that he was smiling, a tight lipped smile but a good smile. She smiled back. He raised an eyebrow and motioned again towards her belly. She jerked reflexively and was overcome by uncontrollable giggling at the mere suggestion of being tickled again. This is what Irving Krebb lived for; it was the honest reaction that no one could fake; a physical reaction that didn't require thought and didn't yield to reason. He kept teasing her, quick tickles here and there to keep her moving, never allowing her to predict where the next tickle would be. And then...
“I think we've hit just about every spot.”
“I think you have..” she said, still out of breath, still giggling.
“Except for the best one.” he said with an evil grin.
“Oh no, no, not that, I can't stand it, nonononono!”
Teresa was smiling while she protested but there was fear in her eyes. Her memory caught up to Krebb's just as his fingers moved towards the top of her ribcage – by far the most ticklish spot on her still quivering body. She could feel it before he touched her and screamed out, “Noooo!” But it was too late.
Krebb dug in his fingers; Teresa twisted as far as she was able to avoid the terrible fingers but it was no use. Her laughter sounded strange to her, alien, like someone else was being tickled to death and she was just a bystander. Her body was reacting on it's own, there were no thoughts in her head, only the urge to flee. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and at times her laughter was so intense it went silent. Her eyes were squeezed shut against the tears but shot open when Krebb's other hand attacked her other side. What she had previously thought was sensory overload was nothing compared to what she was now feeling. This was a benign sort of torture but still a torture she could not resist. He had reduced her to jelly and was enjoying watching her struggle. It might have gone on for an hour or only a few minutes, she didn't know because time had unfortunately stopped. It might never be over...and then it was.
Gasping, Teresa begged, “No more, I can't any more...no more.”
“Alright.” Krebb said, “Alright..."
Gradually her breathing steadied. The spastic giggles subsided and she lay there exhausted. Krebb again wiped down her forehead and kissed it gently. Then he kissed her on the cheek and then her neck. First one side and then the other. His lips moved down to her collar bone. Angel kisses fluttered over her chest and moved down to her breasts, her nipples - kissed, licked and gently teased with his teeth. Teresa closed her eyes while Krebb's lips wandered down the line of her belly, stopping briefly to lick her belly button, then down one side, then the other. He kissed the inside of her thighs, he grazed her in the middle, moving from one side to the other, and she shuddered. She was aching, she could feel her heart pumping down there; she was dripping on the table.
And when he finally slid in his tongue, she exploded.
Krebb's reaction to first seeing Teresa, fifteen years prior, was a sudden urge to apologize. Her ability to reflect light far exceeded his own and he felt obliged to apologize for his inequity. Somehow, by the grace of some anonymous divinity, he reckoned, he was able to muster the necessary charms needed to convince her to allow him access to her marvelous scenery those many years ago. And now, sitting across form her, with the light making no effort to hide it's exuberance in bouncing off her many attributes, he wondered if he could do it again.
She sat there nearly exactly as he remembered her. Her hair was a bit longer and a bit darker, but her smile still had the effect of painfully knotting his chest and her adorable giggle made the soles of his feet tingle. Krebb felt like that shy twenty-three year old again, certain that if there existed, just beneath her soft, pale, skin, a specific semblance of nerves; and if the regions where those special nerves hid were susceptible to subtle, tactile manipulations; and if those manipulations caused the responses he was hoping to elicit; he'd die. When he finally found those special spots on Teresa's exquisitely sculpted body, after man clumsy attempts, he again thanked that anonymous divinity because he didn't die.
Krebb indulged the memory: it was some summer weekend and him and Teresa were fooling around in the room she'd rented from some insane old lush and her chair-addled husband. There was kissing and fondling and laughing, and then she was lying prone on the bed, him sitting next to her, staring into her eyes and feeling the lower-half-tingles. She was wearing a loose white shirt and loose jeans; she was barefoot and giggly and perfect. He gently lifted the edge of her shirt and began tracing soft circles just to the left of her bellybutton. She giggled a little and playfully grabbed at his hands. He leaned over and kissed her hard on the lips and let his hands slide under her shirt, gently stroking her sides; still kissing. When the tips of his fingers reached the top of her ribcage, Teresa pulled away in a spasm of ticklish laughter. Krebb's fingers danced over her her ribs, tickling her into fits; her head was thrown back, laughing uncontrollably; her hands flying blind trying to protect herself from the savage attack. It only lasted a a minute or two, Krebb knew she couldn't take much more; best to quit while she was obviously enjoying herself than to have it turn into a feeling more akin to torture.
That was a far away memory and one he'd cherished ever since. He'd often wondered if she remember that moment but never asked; chances are she wouldn't have; chances are it was a scene she'd enacted with other men who saw it only as a means to a more obvious end; men with no imagination and no appreciation for innocent pleasures. Always tempted but never willing to ask Teresa if she remembered that day, he now had a chance to do it again, this time with the genius of hindsight promising a far more pleasurable conclusion. But only if she was willing. Krebb's daydream ended abruptly:
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, noticing the far-away look and slight smile.
“Oh, things...how was your dinner?”
“Very good, how was yours?”
“Lovely, what's next?”
“I want to see your house.”
“Chateau Krebb? Okay...you sure?”
“Yeah, let's go.”
“Alright, then.”
Dinner was paid for; they jumped in a cab and made their winding way up the hill to Chateau Krebb.
“Creepy up here...” she said, and then giggled, “do you have any neighbors?”
“None that I know of...”
There were no other houses on the hill. The previous owners of Chateau Krebb had been wealthy eccentrics; paranoids with enough money to hole up in the big house and have whatever they needed brought to them via the big winding road that led up the hill. There was only one road up the hill, which made it impossible for anyone in a vehicle to sneak up on the place. Krebb liked the solitude and he liked being able to look down and listen to the far away noises float up from the town. He wasn't as crazy as the previous owners, he made regular trips into town for supplies and things; but he preferred living alone and being mysterious; weird but harmless; creepy but polite.
The cabbed stopped and they got out and walked up the stairs to the big, iron door. Krebb produced an old timey key; the lock creaked and the pins clicked and he pushed open the door.
“Come on in, make yourself at home.”
Teresa sat down and kicked off her shoes (women do this so innocently but know exactly what it does to a man.) She curled her legs under and settled nicely into the big-cushioned, overstuffed couch. Krebb fixed her a drink and handed it to her and then made one for himself. He sat himself down across from her in his old, beat up arm chair. He lit a cigarette and motioned that it was fine to smoke in the house. Teresa lit a cigarette, leaned back and admired the strange decor.
“Very nice,” she said, “very you.”
“Thanks, I decorated myself.”
“Do you get many visitors?”
“No, not many.”
“Hmm...so what do you want to do?”
“Oh, I can think of a few things...”
Krebb said that last line with as much charm as he could muster. It dripped with charm and he hoped she found it charming. She smiled like it did but he couldn't be sure. The waters would need to be tested further. He got up and walked over to the big couch and sat down next to Teresa in that kind of half-leaning-towards-her kinda way that men do when putting the moves on. His moves were rusty but at least she was sitting on his left, which was a start.
Teresa looked at him and smiled and let him talk his shit knowing full well what his intentions were. For his part, Krebb used his best shit and tried very hard to look cool doing it. Having experience with the sort of shit most men talk in similar situations, and being terribly amused by the effort, Teresa finally couldn't keep a straight face and started laughing. The wounded puppy look on Krebb's face made her laugh more. When his eyes moved to the floor, defeated, she quickly lunged forward and kissed him. It took a minute to catch up but when he did everything came back to him. They smooched on the couch and all was right the world.
Smooching, however, can only go on so long when you're a grown-up. After a while it's time to move on to other things requiring less and less clothing. Realizing this moment had come, Krebb stopped and leaned back on the couch. He gently lifted her little bare feet into his lap and began stroking her soles, softly.
“That feels good.” (she almost purred.)
He'd remember that though her feet weren't ticklish (sadly) she did enjoy having them played with. He stroked her soles and fluttered his fingers beneath her adorable little toes sparking a giggle here and there but nothing serious. And then:
“I have a suggestion.” he said.
“What's that?”
“Why don't I show you what's downstairs.”
“You're bedroom?” she smiled.
“No, that's down the hall; downstairs, is, well, let's go look...”
“Okay.” She said this a little warily but trusted that he wouldn't be murdering her this evening.
“I won't be murdering you this evening.” he said.
Through a not-secret, yet, well-hidden door, Krebb led her down to the basement. It was at the bottom of a long spiral staircase; a dimly lit, decidedly round room. The walls were bookshelves holding at least a few hundred volumes. It wasn't basement-like at all, Teresa thought, there was a lot of old, dark wood; the floors were made of wood and the roof looked like pressed tin. In the center of the room was some kind of table. When Krebb flicked on the lights she could see it clearly: a long padded table with straps hanging off the sides and ankle stocks at one end. It looked both menacing and oddly comfortable. Being a fun loving kind of gal, she immediately hopped up and laid back with her arms behind her head looking very relaxed.
“What's this for?” she said.
“I think you know.”
“You want to tie me up then.”
“That's the idea, yeah.”
“And then what?”
“What?”
“What are you going to do to me when I'm all tied up?”
Krebb thought about the question for a long time. He lit another cigarette and paced a little looking for the right words.
“Well, let me tell you what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to hurt you and I'm not going to do anything weird or inappropriate. Mostly, what I'll be doing is touching you.”
“Touching me.”
“Yeah, touching...I think you'll enjoy it.”
They'd known each other for years and thought they hadn't seen each other in a very long time, Teresa was still confident that Krebb was still the same harmless guy she remembered. A little crazier now, maybe, but harmless.
“Okay,” she said, “go ahead.”
And with that she stretched her arms above her head and lifted her ankles into the receiving end of the stocks at her feet.
“Wait,” she said, “should I get undressed first?”
“No, no, that's alright.”
She was dressed casually: a long skirt and a tank-top along with the usual set of undergarments.
“How attached are you to your clothes anyway? I mean, if something should happen to them, could I buy you something else?”
Strange question, she thought, but realized what he as up to and smiled and said,
“I guess so.”
Krebb rubbed his hands together and wiggled his fingers maniacally. He walked over to the foot of the table and locked Teresa's ankles in place. Then he leaned over, kissed her once, and then secured her wrists in the bindings. Moving to the side of the table he fiddled with some sort of crank which slowly stretched the table and Teresa with it, which caused her a sudden moment of concern and more than a little thrill.
“Whoa,” she said, laughing nervously, “What is that!”
“Don't worry, the table is adjustable, I'm just setting it to your size.”
More nervous laughter.
The machine now set, Krebb stood to the side and decided that nothing, no person or thing could be more beautiful than Teresa was this moment. Stretched out, grinning, nervous, and game for whatever was going to happen next. He told himself to remain calm and take his time...opportunities like these are few and far between. His hands had started trembling.
Carefully Krebb lifted her shirt revealing a flawless expanse of belly skin and her tiny, vertical navel. He ran a finger down the line of her stomach and across her belly button. He kept an eye on her expressions and watched for any sign that he'd grazed a sensitive area. His finger tips barely made contact with her soft, warm skin, they glided like feathers around her curves, exploring and testing while his eyes took careful notes. Her reactions were what he was after.
He moved down to her right leg and slowly hitched up the hem of her skirt to the middle of her smooth, inviting legs. He let his fingers take their time tracing abstract shapes along the insides of her thighs and was rewarded with a twitch and a giggle as he glided into the hollow behind her knee. Down her calf and around, gently raking nails across her sensitive shin and down to her ankle. The middle finger of his right hand firmly meandered the top of her tiny foot, over her toes and then joined the rest of the fingers in a maddening fluttering up and down her sole. Teresa giggle despite herself. Maybe her soles were ticklish. Maybe the sensation of being tied down had heightened her sensitivity. Even if she were humoring him, the effect was working. The blood was flowing quickly to the south of Krebb's pants and he the urge to touch himself was unbearable.
But he didn't.
Sensing he was heating up to quickly, Irving Krebb took a step back, took a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and inhaled deeply. He smiled and she smiled back, and then he turned and opened a drawer under part of the bookcase. He produced a large pair of surgical scissors and held them up for dramatic effect.
"Now don't be scared.” he said, “I'm only holding these up for dramatic effect.”
Teresa laughed and said it was fine; she knew what would be happening next.
Very carefully, after setting his cigarette aside, he began systematically cutting Teresa's tank-top to ribbons. He cut through the shoulder straps and then straight down the middle. Then he slid what was left out from under her and tossed it over his shoulder. He cut did the same to her skirt, starting at the bottom and cutting slowly up the middle. When he reached her waist line he allowed the cold steel of the scissors to graze her lower belly causing her a small, electric shiver.
Now clad in only a black bra and matching panties, Teresa tried to brace for whatever came next. She stared at the ceiling and then closed her eyes; a slight smile crossed her lips. She felt the bra and the panties snap off and then she was naked. Suddenly there was something soft and feathery bouncing across her naked skin, which had gone goose-bumped with the sensation. She opened her eyes and watched as a long, peacock feather, wielded by a wild eyed Krebb, tickled her. She found it both pleasurable and maddening. It bounced and fluttered across her breasts and highly sensitive nipples; then down her stomach, it stayed a while when it got to her pelvis then moved to her thighs – down one and up the other. She felt a peculiar itch everyone the feather touched and she writhed under the restraints feeling herself getting wetter.
After what seemed like hours the feather stopped and was replaced by Krebbs warm hands caressing her, satisfying the maddening itch and leaving behind a warmth which radiated from his palms. Teresa felt completely relaxed and thought to herself that if this was it, it as enough, she felt tired and dreamy and could probably fall asleep in spite of being tied down. But that wasn't going to happen any time soon.
Once again Krebb stepped back and lit a cigarette. He allowed Teresa to enjoy the feeling for a while because very soon the real fun would begin. He walked over to her and brushed her hair back behind her ear. He leaned in close and studied her eyes; they were peaceful and half-lidded...so beautiful, he thought, so beautiful.
“What's next?” she said softly.
Krebb said nothing, he stubbed out his cigarette and went over to a small sink she hadn't noticed and washed his hands. He dried them on a white towel, cracked his knuckles and walked towards her. He looked as though he could walk through a wall. Teresa felt her body tense in preparation for whatever he was about to do. He raised his index finger and started tracing circles around her belly button. Teresa giggled.
“Now,” he said, “I have a very good memory, better than most, and I remember things that most people don't bother remembering. This could be because I am afflicted with this rather peculiar fetish, or it could be that...no, it's probably the fetish. Anyway, I seem to remember that Teresa has a spot, a very, very ticklish spot that I found once but never really got to enjoy to my satisfaction.”
As he spoke, Teresa noticed the circles were getting larger and his fingers lingering on specific spots which had previously caused her to react. A slight twitch, a soft giggle; reactions most people wouldn't have noticed Krebb had mentally logged when he was using the feather. He'd been testing her to see what spots might provide the reaction he was looking for, and now, he was testing his findings. Tickling fingers found the ticklish spots along her sides and belly. His thumbs pressed gently but firmly into her pelvis got a good laugh out of her and some pretty good struggling. He squeezed the tops of her thighs and crept down to the tops of her knees drawing more and more tortured laughter from her. His fingers scribbled down her shins and finally stopped at the soles of her feet, where his finger nails turned weapons-grade and her feet that weren't ticklish betrayed her. It was sensory overload. Every ticklish spot on her body, known and unknown to her, lit up, one after the other as he attacked them one by one. She was bucking and pulling on her restraints laughing wildly, breathing hard and - to her amazement - enjoying it. Krebb's fingers were tireless and moved as fast as a hummingbird, fluttering here and then there; then over there, never letting her rest. Her laughter became an endless chorus of varying tones and mixed giggles. It was as if he was playing her like a musical instrument; each set of nerves bringing a variation to the rhythm of the song. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, he stopped.
Out of breath, half-panting, half-giggling, her chest heaving and her skin glowing rosy, Teresa was given a break. Krebb leaned on the edge of the table and watched her. She was vibrating.
“Did you enjoy that?” he said softly.
“I...can't...breathe...ha, oh...shit...ha ha ha...”
“Did you enjoy that?” he said again.
“...mmm...yes...yes.”
Krebb seemed pleased with himself. Teresa looked at him as he wiped the tiny beads of sweat from her forehead and saw that he was smiling, a tight lipped smile but a good smile. She smiled back. He raised an eyebrow and motioned again towards her belly. She jerked reflexively and was overcome by uncontrollable giggling at the mere suggestion of being tickled again. This is what Irving Krebb lived for; it was the honest reaction that no one could fake; a physical reaction that didn't require thought and didn't yield to reason. He kept teasing her, quick tickles here and there to keep her moving, never allowing her to predict where the next tickle would be. And then...
“I think we've hit just about every spot.”
“I think you have..” she said, still out of breath, still giggling.
“Except for the best one.” he said with an evil grin.
“Oh no, no, not that, I can't stand it, nonononono!”
Teresa was smiling while she protested but there was fear in her eyes. Her memory caught up to Krebb's just as his fingers moved towards the top of her ribcage – by far the most ticklish spot on her still quivering body. She could feel it before he touched her and screamed out, “Noooo!” But it was too late.
Krebb dug in his fingers; Teresa twisted as far as she was able to avoid the terrible fingers but it was no use. Her laughter sounded strange to her, alien, like someone else was being tickled to death and she was just a bystander. Her body was reacting on it's own, there were no thoughts in her head, only the urge to flee. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and at times her laughter was so intense it went silent. Her eyes were squeezed shut against the tears but shot open when Krebb's other hand attacked her other side. What she had previously thought was sensory overload was nothing compared to what she was now feeling. This was a benign sort of torture but still a torture she could not resist. He had reduced her to jelly and was enjoying watching her struggle. It might have gone on for an hour or only a few minutes, she didn't know because time had unfortunately stopped. It might never be over...and then it was.
Gasping, Teresa begged, “No more, I can't any more...no more.”
“Alright.” Krebb said, “Alright..."
Gradually her breathing steadied. The spastic giggles subsided and she lay there exhausted. Krebb again wiped down her forehead and kissed it gently. Then he kissed her on the cheek and then her neck. First one side and then the other. His lips moved down to her collar bone. Angel kisses fluttered over her chest and moved down to her breasts, her nipples - kissed, licked and gently teased with his teeth. Teresa closed her eyes while Krebb's lips wandered down the line of her belly, stopping briefly to lick her belly button, then down one side, then the other. He kissed the inside of her thighs, he grazed her in the middle, moving from one side to the other, and she shuddered. She was aching, she could feel her heart pumping down there; she was dripping on the table.
And when he finally slid in his tongue, she exploded.
