LiftedSpirit
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- Aug 5, 2015
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Ever since I can remember, I've dreamed of being gang tickled.
Ever since I can remember, I've lied awake nights, fantasizing.
Ever since I can remember, I've been adding more and more details to my fantasy.
And now I'd like to share it with you.
First of all, let me be clear. I am not fantasizing about 6 or 7 ticklers. Hell, I think even four might be too many. My ideal number is 2, possibly 3, and no matter the number, these ticklers need to be a well oiled machine. Constant communication, knowing what the other is doing, being able to work in concert to really let me have it. Make sense? Good.
My fantasy begins with some untied, "freestyle" tickling. I always imagine that this follows a public meeting between myself and the ticklers, as I don't know any in real life, so would need to meet them from online.
That is not an invitation, mind you. As much as I adore this fantasy, I'm not going out to meet every Tom, Dick and Sally who sends me a Private Message. Not trying to be mean, just honest - More than likely, you and I will never come face to face.
Retiring to one of the ticklers homes. . . Ideally whomever had the best bondage equipment or most space to play. . . The fun would begin.
Each tickler would sit on one side of me, with me on the middle cushion of a sofa. I would lift my arms up over my head. And I would, too, although I'd be nervous as all get up! They would gently take my wrists in their hands, keeping my arms over head, and lightly begin to tease and tickle my inner arms or sides, either working up or down towards my armpits. One of my most ticklish spots.
Were there to be three ticklers, I'd adjust thusly - I would sit on the floor with the ticklers on either side of me. The third tickler would be on the sofa, holding my arms up.
The key to this "scene", if you will, is that its light tickling. Gentle tickling. The tickling I can handle without too much thrashing about. The stuff that gets your skin all tingly, that you could hold your giggling in if you wanted to, but really, trying to fight it just makes it worse. That kind of tickling.
The ticklers would explore my upper body. They could take advantage of my ticklish forearms and biceps, or perhaps they are knowledgeable enough to be able to tickle my ribs without it hurting, which so far nobody has been able to do. They would tweak my sides, slip under my tnak top to scribble along my stomach, really anything they wanted. As I said, though, the goal would be to make it to my underarms, and the closer they got, the louder I'd laugh.
I would be able to tell they were going for the armpits once the grip on my wrists tightened, or if the third tickler (if there was one) stepped over my arms, keeping them pinned behind me. That's when the begging might start. Whispered pleas not to tickle under my arms, despite mh entire body buzzing with excitement for them to do so. Maybe I'd even be laid down, with one tickler sitting on my arms and the other straddling my waist, making me feel extra helpless.
Single fingers sliding up into those delicate hollows to trace light circles, causing my body to tense and struggle and making me toss my head back with laughter. Working their way until 2 hands. . . 3 hands. . .4 hands were under there, so many fingers finding every ticklish nerve ending I totally lose control, kicking and squealing and begging for mercy! Eyes wide, shaking my head back and forth, knowing this is just the opening salvo of a long night of tickling to come.
The ticklers would know that, too, which is why this initial torture would be fleeting. I'd be freed from my human bondage, allowed to rub my hands under my arms to eradicate those evil phantom tickles, and prepare myself for the next phase.
Once I had recovered my wits, it would be time to slip off my shoes and lift my feet up into the laps of my tormentors. This is a big thing for me, willing surrender. I want to feel my mind racing, wondering if I'm making a sane decision as I give over 2 ticklish soles and 10 hyper-sensitive toes to a pair of ticklers who want nothing more than to punish me for my submission. I'm not quite sure how the third tickler would come into play here. Maybe he'd sit behind me and let me lean on him as I had my feet tickled, maybe he'd help hold my ankles. We'd have to see, wouldn't we?
Slowly lifting my bare feet, cursing myself for having taken such good care of them in the days leading up to this meeting, I slide them into the laps of my "captors", feeling them place a firm hand on my ankle. Again, this is the teasing tickle, the chance for them to see how honest I had been in revealing my ticklish spots. Slow fingers dancing down my soles, tracing the outer edges of my feet, feeling my legs tense as I fight the urge to try to kick away! Slow 'pinches' across the balls of my feet, delighting in my squeaks and bursts of laughter. The first dip under my toes causing me to fall back onto the sofa, the second through fifty-seventh sweeps forcing them to wrap my ankle under their arm and really hold me still.
They would talk to each other, letting the other one know if they stumbled upon a good spot or sound strategy, perhaps offering each other a tool they had with them to use on my poor, helpless feet. Maybe the third one is in charge of the tools, that could be fun. He decides when to break out the brushes or the feathers, reminding them that its not time for the lotion or the baby oil yet. This is still very early.
Despite my laughter growing more and more frantic with each passing second, despite my struggles that grow stronger as time passes, I can't help but remind them that I have ticklish thighs and knees as well, and they thank me for that information by wiggling fingers under my kneecap, rolling me onto my stomach to goose the backs of my thighs, and mock my goosebumps as they trace soft bristled brushes along my calves. They know just how to keep me on the edge, and they know that is exactly where I want to be.
Alright, playtime is over. I've teased them enough, and they to me, and its time to get serious. I am asked to prepare myself for some bondage, and as agreed, I disappear to the powder room to change into my "total ticklee" outfit. I imagine boyshorts and a small tank top, perhaps even just a sports bra if that's the preference. I emerge to find that the bondage is set and my ticklers, after appropriately appreciating my new look, are ready to tie me down.
Now, I imagine there's a lot of you out there who are thinking this to be too much of the. . . What's the phrase. . ."topping from the bottom". Here I have spelled out exactly what I want from my session and I'm giving no chance for the ticklers to have their fantasies fulfilled. There's merit to that, I suppose, although I think if a younger woman asking to be tickled isn't one of your fantasies, you're in the wrong forum.
I also want to let you know that once we get to this stage of the evening, my desires aren't so specific. Sure, I want to be tied up, and the more bondage, the better, but in reality, I wouldn't be super duper picky. If one or both ticklers, or the three of them, had decided on a bondage position they all liked, I'd be open to it. I do want this to be fun for the whole gang.
However, its not much of a story if I just say "they tie me up however they want", so I'll continue to be very self-centered and focus on what my ideal would be.
A large set of wooden stocks would be set up in the middle of the room, or perhaps there would be an entirely different room devoted to them. I like the ones Tickle Intensive uses, but they are quite squeaky. The Tickle Abuse ones are also lovely, though it seems tricky to keep the toes tied. You know which company has really good ones? The well-named Stuck in the Stocks. That Knismo fellow sure knows how to make feet helpless. I like his style.
The stocks would be attached to a large chair, and ideally there would be a quality way of securing my arms over my head. In a Y, straight over my head, I'm not picky, just as long as pulling my arms down is difficult, if not impossible. Call me old-fashioned, but I want my ticklers able to use their energy tickling, not holding me down.
I sit in the chair, and while one tickler secures my arms over my head (wrists and biceps, if you please), the other lifts my ankles up into the stocks and begins to work on tying my toes back. I'd be apologizing repeatedly, since I imagine that act would tickle on its own, so there'd be some giggle and some toe curling. I've slid a shoelace between my toes enough times to know I'm definitely sensitive to it!
As for the third tickler, again if one existed, perhaps he'd be in charge of preparing the tools. On a table easily within view would be a plethora of tickle devices. Lotions, oils, feathers, brushes. The more, the merrier, I say. Blindfolds and gags are certainly an option, but not at all required. Again, we'd be operating to all the users comfort level.
In fact, if I had my druthers, part of our initial meeting would be shopping through a craft or hobby store, selecting some implements to be laid out on said table. Wouldn't that be fun?
So, my well oiled tickle machine would have quickly reduced me to a strictly bound, very vulnerable tickle buffet, and I would sincerely hope these ticklers would look hungry. At this point, it really and truly isn't up to me. They have all the tools at their disposal, they have a pretty good idea of my weaknesses, and they have all night to exploit them.
Rather than spell out exactly what they'd do, since half the fun is watching them be creative and inspire each other to ticklish greatness, let me provide some highlights.
- I hope they'd spend some time under my arms, really exploring those hollows. I imagine that baby oil under there would make twenty (or thirty) fingers fly, and while I'd be a tortured mess of hysterics, I'd love them for it.
- If they discovered how ticklish my hips are, they might need to improvise and find a way to secure my waist to the chair. A tickler behind me, reaching around to wiggle fingers in my "pockets" might have me crying out for some sort of spiritual salvation.
- Not spot related, but I do yearn for my ticklers to work in concert. I don't need to be tickled by all of them all of the time. One of them could be tickling while the other finds a new tool, applies a fresh coat of oil or really goes and gets a cold beverage. Just make sure the ice cubes stay in the drink!
- We're talking about stocks with toes tied back, so obviously I'm going to want my feet to be a central part of this tale. Just the thought of seeing a pair of ticklers sitting on the other end of the stocks, my bare feet completely exposed for them? Gives me the shivers. Dual brushes, twenty fingers, not one, not two but perhaps FOUR feathers or flossers or forks? Ok, maybe not forks, but I couldn't think of another tool that began with F, and I was feeling alliterative.
- I want intelligent ticklers. I want ticklers who know that the human body can't handle stimulation in the same spot for extended periods, so they're going to keep moving, keep changing tactics. Those four flossers work over my feet so much I'm not laughing as hard anymore? Slap on another coat of lotion and go amuse yourselves with my upper body. Let one part rest so that when you come back to it, I'm debating gnawing off my own arm to escape!
- Use of sensory deprivation, while I've not experienced it first-hand, seems to have its place. Blindfold me to play a guessing game of "who's doing this?" Add some earplugs and make me sit in silence for 4-5 minutes, my body building up anticipation so much that by the end, I'm screaming for you just to tickle me so I can stop messing with my own mind. A gag, for when I get too loud, or too whiny, or just otherwise need a break from comprehension.
I think you get the idea. So when does it end? How will you know when I'm spent? Well obviously I'm going to have a safeword, though if we're meeting, I'm trusting you enough so that I probably won't rely on it too heavily. Plus, if we're talking gags and blindfolds, there's an outside chance I'm going to forsake that safeword for a small period.
Quite frankly, the ending of my fantasy isn't carved out yet. I have way too much fun with the first parts that I rarely imagine what it would be like at the end. I imagine that at that point, I'll have been tickled to exhaustion, so I'm freed from my bondage, brought back to that sofa where our session first began and allowed to fall blissfully to sleep with a giant smile on my face.
And who knows? It could happen all over again once I woke up! One fantasy rolls into an another, so why not an entire weekend of tickle fun? We've just scratched the surface of what we can do!
So anyway, yeah, that's my fantasy. I didn't imagine it to become this giant tome, but it felt really good to flesh it out and put it in writing. Hope you enjoyed reading. What are YOUR fantasies?
Ever since I can remember, I've lied awake nights, fantasizing.
Ever since I can remember, I've been adding more and more details to my fantasy.
And now I'd like to share it with you.
First of all, let me be clear. I am not fantasizing about 6 or 7 ticklers. Hell, I think even four might be too many. My ideal number is 2, possibly 3, and no matter the number, these ticklers need to be a well oiled machine. Constant communication, knowing what the other is doing, being able to work in concert to really let me have it. Make sense? Good.
My fantasy begins with some untied, "freestyle" tickling. I always imagine that this follows a public meeting between myself and the ticklers, as I don't know any in real life, so would need to meet them from online.
That is not an invitation, mind you. As much as I adore this fantasy, I'm not going out to meet every Tom, Dick and Sally who sends me a Private Message. Not trying to be mean, just honest - More than likely, you and I will never come face to face.
Retiring to one of the ticklers homes. . . Ideally whomever had the best bondage equipment or most space to play. . . The fun would begin.
Each tickler would sit on one side of me, with me on the middle cushion of a sofa. I would lift my arms up over my head. And I would, too, although I'd be nervous as all get up! They would gently take my wrists in their hands, keeping my arms over head, and lightly begin to tease and tickle my inner arms or sides, either working up or down towards my armpits. One of my most ticklish spots.
Were there to be three ticklers, I'd adjust thusly - I would sit on the floor with the ticklers on either side of me. The third tickler would be on the sofa, holding my arms up.
The key to this "scene", if you will, is that its light tickling. Gentle tickling. The tickling I can handle without too much thrashing about. The stuff that gets your skin all tingly, that you could hold your giggling in if you wanted to, but really, trying to fight it just makes it worse. That kind of tickling.
The ticklers would explore my upper body. They could take advantage of my ticklish forearms and biceps, or perhaps they are knowledgeable enough to be able to tickle my ribs without it hurting, which so far nobody has been able to do. They would tweak my sides, slip under my tnak top to scribble along my stomach, really anything they wanted. As I said, though, the goal would be to make it to my underarms, and the closer they got, the louder I'd laugh.
I would be able to tell they were going for the armpits once the grip on my wrists tightened, or if the third tickler (if there was one) stepped over my arms, keeping them pinned behind me. That's when the begging might start. Whispered pleas not to tickle under my arms, despite mh entire body buzzing with excitement for them to do so. Maybe I'd even be laid down, with one tickler sitting on my arms and the other straddling my waist, making me feel extra helpless.
Single fingers sliding up into those delicate hollows to trace light circles, causing my body to tense and struggle and making me toss my head back with laughter. Working their way until 2 hands. . . 3 hands. . .4 hands were under there, so many fingers finding every ticklish nerve ending I totally lose control, kicking and squealing and begging for mercy! Eyes wide, shaking my head back and forth, knowing this is just the opening salvo of a long night of tickling to come.
The ticklers would know that, too, which is why this initial torture would be fleeting. I'd be freed from my human bondage, allowed to rub my hands under my arms to eradicate those evil phantom tickles, and prepare myself for the next phase.
Once I had recovered my wits, it would be time to slip off my shoes and lift my feet up into the laps of my tormentors. This is a big thing for me, willing surrender. I want to feel my mind racing, wondering if I'm making a sane decision as I give over 2 ticklish soles and 10 hyper-sensitive toes to a pair of ticklers who want nothing more than to punish me for my submission. I'm not quite sure how the third tickler would come into play here. Maybe he'd sit behind me and let me lean on him as I had my feet tickled, maybe he'd help hold my ankles. We'd have to see, wouldn't we?
Slowly lifting my bare feet, cursing myself for having taken such good care of them in the days leading up to this meeting, I slide them into the laps of my "captors", feeling them place a firm hand on my ankle. Again, this is the teasing tickle, the chance for them to see how honest I had been in revealing my ticklish spots. Slow fingers dancing down my soles, tracing the outer edges of my feet, feeling my legs tense as I fight the urge to try to kick away! Slow 'pinches' across the balls of my feet, delighting in my squeaks and bursts of laughter. The first dip under my toes causing me to fall back onto the sofa, the second through fifty-seventh sweeps forcing them to wrap my ankle under their arm and really hold me still.
They would talk to each other, letting the other one know if they stumbled upon a good spot or sound strategy, perhaps offering each other a tool they had with them to use on my poor, helpless feet. Maybe the third one is in charge of the tools, that could be fun. He decides when to break out the brushes or the feathers, reminding them that its not time for the lotion or the baby oil yet. This is still very early.
Despite my laughter growing more and more frantic with each passing second, despite my struggles that grow stronger as time passes, I can't help but remind them that I have ticklish thighs and knees as well, and they thank me for that information by wiggling fingers under my kneecap, rolling me onto my stomach to goose the backs of my thighs, and mock my goosebumps as they trace soft bristled brushes along my calves. They know just how to keep me on the edge, and they know that is exactly where I want to be.
Alright, playtime is over. I've teased them enough, and they to me, and its time to get serious. I am asked to prepare myself for some bondage, and as agreed, I disappear to the powder room to change into my "total ticklee" outfit. I imagine boyshorts and a small tank top, perhaps even just a sports bra if that's the preference. I emerge to find that the bondage is set and my ticklers, after appropriately appreciating my new look, are ready to tie me down.
Now, I imagine there's a lot of you out there who are thinking this to be too much of the. . . What's the phrase. . ."topping from the bottom". Here I have spelled out exactly what I want from my session and I'm giving no chance for the ticklers to have their fantasies fulfilled. There's merit to that, I suppose, although I think if a younger woman asking to be tickled isn't one of your fantasies, you're in the wrong forum.
I also want to let you know that once we get to this stage of the evening, my desires aren't so specific. Sure, I want to be tied up, and the more bondage, the better, but in reality, I wouldn't be super duper picky. If one or both ticklers, or the three of them, had decided on a bondage position they all liked, I'd be open to it. I do want this to be fun for the whole gang.
However, its not much of a story if I just say "they tie me up however they want", so I'll continue to be very self-centered and focus on what my ideal would be.
A large set of wooden stocks would be set up in the middle of the room, or perhaps there would be an entirely different room devoted to them. I like the ones Tickle Intensive uses, but they are quite squeaky. The Tickle Abuse ones are also lovely, though it seems tricky to keep the toes tied. You know which company has really good ones? The well-named Stuck in the Stocks. That Knismo fellow sure knows how to make feet helpless. I like his style.
The stocks would be attached to a large chair, and ideally there would be a quality way of securing my arms over my head. In a Y, straight over my head, I'm not picky, just as long as pulling my arms down is difficult, if not impossible. Call me old-fashioned, but I want my ticklers able to use their energy tickling, not holding me down.
I sit in the chair, and while one tickler secures my arms over my head (wrists and biceps, if you please), the other lifts my ankles up into the stocks and begins to work on tying my toes back. I'd be apologizing repeatedly, since I imagine that act would tickle on its own, so there'd be some giggle and some toe curling. I've slid a shoelace between my toes enough times to know I'm definitely sensitive to it!
As for the third tickler, again if one existed, perhaps he'd be in charge of preparing the tools. On a table easily within view would be a plethora of tickle devices. Lotions, oils, feathers, brushes. The more, the merrier, I say. Blindfolds and gags are certainly an option, but not at all required. Again, we'd be operating to all the users comfort level.
In fact, if I had my druthers, part of our initial meeting would be shopping through a craft or hobby store, selecting some implements to be laid out on said table. Wouldn't that be fun?
So, my well oiled tickle machine would have quickly reduced me to a strictly bound, very vulnerable tickle buffet, and I would sincerely hope these ticklers would look hungry. At this point, it really and truly isn't up to me. They have all the tools at their disposal, they have a pretty good idea of my weaknesses, and they have all night to exploit them.
Rather than spell out exactly what they'd do, since half the fun is watching them be creative and inspire each other to ticklish greatness, let me provide some highlights.
- I hope they'd spend some time under my arms, really exploring those hollows. I imagine that baby oil under there would make twenty (or thirty) fingers fly, and while I'd be a tortured mess of hysterics, I'd love them for it.
- If they discovered how ticklish my hips are, they might need to improvise and find a way to secure my waist to the chair. A tickler behind me, reaching around to wiggle fingers in my "pockets" might have me crying out for some sort of spiritual salvation.
- Not spot related, but I do yearn for my ticklers to work in concert. I don't need to be tickled by all of them all of the time. One of them could be tickling while the other finds a new tool, applies a fresh coat of oil or really goes and gets a cold beverage. Just make sure the ice cubes stay in the drink!
- We're talking about stocks with toes tied back, so obviously I'm going to want my feet to be a central part of this tale. Just the thought of seeing a pair of ticklers sitting on the other end of the stocks, my bare feet completely exposed for them? Gives me the shivers. Dual brushes, twenty fingers, not one, not two but perhaps FOUR feathers or flossers or forks? Ok, maybe not forks, but I couldn't think of another tool that began with F, and I was feeling alliterative.
- I want intelligent ticklers. I want ticklers who know that the human body can't handle stimulation in the same spot for extended periods, so they're going to keep moving, keep changing tactics. Those four flossers work over my feet so much I'm not laughing as hard anymore? Slap on another coat of lotion and go amuse yourselves with my upper body. Let one part rest so that when you come back to it, I'm debating gnawing off my own arm to escape!
- Use of sensory deprivation, while I've not experienced it first-hand, seems to have its place. Blindfold me to play a guessing game of "who's doing this?" Add some earplugs and make me sit in silence for 4-5 minutes, my body building up anticipation so much that by the end, I'm screaming for you just to tickle me so I can stop messing with my own mind. A gag, for when I get too loud, or too whiny, or just otherwise need a break from comprehension.
I think you get the idea. So when does it end? How will you know when I'm spent? Well obviously I'm going to have a safeword, though if we're meeting, I'm trusting you enough so that I probably won't rely on it too heavily. Plus, if we're talking gags and blindfolds, there's an outside chance I'm going to forsake that safeword for a small period.
Quite frankly, the ending of my fantasy isn't carved out yet. I have way too much fun with the first parts that I rarely imagine what it would be like at the end. I imagine that at that point, I'll have been tickled to exhaustion, so I'm freed from my bondage, brought back to that sofa where our session first began and allowed to fall blissfully to sleep with a giant smile on my face.
And who knows? It could happen all over again once I woke up! One fantasy rolls into an another, so why not an entire weekend of tickle fun? We've just scratched the surface of what we can do!
So anyway, yeah, that's my fantasy. I didn't imagine it to become this giant tome, but it felt really good to flesh it out and put it in writing. Hope you enjoyed reading. What are YOUR fantasies?
