tickles_me
TMF Poster
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- Jul 19, 2009
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This is the first bit of an idea that I've been playing with for a while now. I may or may not develop it further (ideally to include multiple victims, various - probably similarly creepy - bondage, and lots of tickle torture).
Cheers and thanks for reading.
Six and Wes
Wes woke slowly, his awareness blurry and inconsistent. He was on his back, slightly folded, arms and legs splayed out but elevated - was he in a stirrups? Two ropes lashed his torso down and he was naked. The room was as dark with his eyes open as it was closed, and his heart began to race. What was this? Where was he?
The last thing Wes remembered he was leaving his office and getting into his car to go to the gym. Had he gotten in the car? He couldn't remember that much.
He heard a door creak open and some brief shuffling before bright lights clacked on, the sudden change blinding him - Wes tried to cry out in fright but his throat was tight and the sound came out as a whimper. His head was also lashed down and his eyes darted back and forth, searching for the people he heard shuffling.
“Hello? Who’s there? What’s this all about?” We looked down and could see his own hairy stomach down to where his legs bent up, his taint pointing forward - he was in stirrups and his arms were tied above his head to the back of the seat. “Let me out!” Wes yelled, his voice high with fear.
Three masked people in white lab coats stepped into his field of vision and Wes began to tremble. “Wh - who are you?”
None of them spoke - Wes couldn't tell if they were male or female. They wore blue latex gloves and full black masks with gaping, laughing grins. Wes felt exposed and afraid in a way he had never known - his eyes began to well with panicked tears. He couldn't see anything in the room beyond the medical lights bathing him and his prison chair in white.
Without speaking the three people began to move. One of them disappeared behind his head, one got between his legs and the third moved to his feet. The one he could see before him raised its gloved hands at him, the fingers clawed and wiggling. Wes’s heart was pounding. “Wh-why am I here?” he begged, “who are you? Don't touch me!”
Wes made a grunting sound as the hands dropped onto him - he felt rubber fingertips landing on his stomach to either side of his navel. More skittered into his exposed armpits and he felt two fingertips on each foot walk slowly but firmly from the bottom of his heel up to beneath his toes. The fingers returned to the heel and walked up again.
The touches on his belly and in his armpits ripped through him like lightning and a shaky, halting giggle rumbled up from inside him. “SsstooaahAHAHAHA!”
As he spoke the tickling fingers intensified in his sensitive spots. His tormentors still did not speak as he scrunched his eyes, struggling to pull himself together. “What the heehehehhhaaaAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”
The person behind him began to run five fingers on each hand from the undersides of his wrists, down the arms and over the elbows, down the biceps and into his pits. The hands pulled gently on his armpit hair and grabbed at his stretched hollows, raking laughter out of him. Then they ran back up to the wrists. Down, dig at the pits. Tap tap poke poke. Back up and down again, pinching rapidly into the stretched hollows as his muscle strained to escape. Skitter skitter up, scratch scratch, skitter down over the elbows. Tap tap tap over the biceps, poke poke grab grab grab into the armpits: Wes tried to beg as he laughed hysterically.
The hands on his belly began to spider from just above his flopping penis up over his navel and outwards to his sides, which they fingered curiously, looking for the places that made his body clench. Fingers walked and poked across his skin, down to his lower belly - taptaptaptap - and up to his navel - poke, swirl, poke poke - and around his flanks - skitter skitter poke poke poke. Wes tried to wiggle against the bonds but could not move away from the tormenting fingers; his face was straining with forced laughter, sweat beginning to shine on the bands holding his head.
A finger and thumb on each side pinched his hips and flanks and traveled down over the crease of his thighs toward his knees. This was unbearable and his laughter became high pitched cackling, his body desperately trying to retrieve his limbs. The hands took his thigh muscles in their grasp and pinched hard, groping deftly down his thighs and lobster-clawing the joint above his kneecaps. The tickling was deep, rapid, and jolted his whole body; Wes cackled and squealed, his hands and feet flapping in their shackles..
He shook his legs and let out a series of guffaws as the hard-pinching hands made their way - grab grab grab - toward his inner thighs. They pinched at the muscles while he howled, moving - grab grab grab - back toward his knees. Grab grab grab. And up his thighs. He yanked on his arms and legs, his body trying to fold in half and protect him.
A guttural scream poured out of his mouth as the hands traveled over his hips back up his sides with the same fierce groping. He shook his body and tried to beg around the breathless laughter as gloved hands tickled his armpits and ribcage. Poke poke, tap tap - grab grab grab.
“WAAAAAHAHAHAHAA!! STAAAHAAHAAHAAAPP!! I-I-I CAAAHAAHAAAN’TAHAHAHAHA!! I CAAHAHAHAHAHANNAAHAHAHHHT!” Wes begged, his hands flailing in their bonds. His torturers didn't acknowledge his cries for mercy, but kept their steady tickling pace.
The one he could see did not meet his eyes as the blue hands danced over his skin and groped his torso, searching for his most ticklish places. As the hands poked over his hips he squealed and his hips jerked; the hands positioned themselves over his genitals, thumbs and fingers digging roughly into the sweaty creases on either side of his dangling balls. His legs pulled with renewed panic against the cuffs securing his ankles as he howled, desperate to protect his groin.
“NOOOOOOO!! AAAHAHAHAOMIGAAAHAHADD!! DOOOAHAHAHA - DOOOHOOHOONTT - AAAAAAHAHAHA!!” Wes cried out, a mixture of sobs beginning to creep into the peals of hysterical laughter. The hands in his armpits extended outward from his body, clawed and threatening, and snapped back in, viciously grabbing at his armpits. They repeated this over and over, wracking his body with squeals each time.
“PLEEEAAAHAHHAAHSSSAHAHA!!”
The hands at his feet traveled up over the tops of the toes and back down the tops of his feet toward the ankles. The gloves made the fingertips stick just a little and added extra ticklish jolts to every touch as they tapped up the shins to below the knee and around to the knee-pit. The hands scrabbled there for a few moments and traveled down under the calves, dragging and gently prodding the shaking muscles. Then back up the calves, into the knee joint (scrabble scrabble, tickle tap) around to the shin and down. And back. Up the shin, and down, up the calves and down.
The hands tickling his armpits began to descend and inched with heavy prods over his chest muscles. Wes was in good shape - he ate well and went to the gym a few times a week. The pec muscles strained to help pull his arms down and bopped along with his hilarious laughter. The hands tapped ticklish circles around his nipples, prodding the muscles gently but firmly as they swirled. His head began to swim as his senses were overloaded.
The hands reached down over his ribs and began to rub knuckles up and down his ribs like a washboard. The ticking was intense and deep, wracking his exhausted body with yet another wave of snorting laughter. The hands alternated between washboard knuckles and pec tickling while he hollered and groaned, trying to beg around the laughs being forced in and out of his body.
Still, his tormentors said nothing. He had no idea where he was or why his was happening. He could not stop it - he was exposed and confused. He could see and speak and hear and feel everything - mostly himself as he squirmed against his bonds and gasped for air around the non stop laughter being forced out of him.
Wes began to sob around the laughter as frustration and fear mixed with the giddy waves caused by the tickling. He found it harder and harder to stay aware. As Wes’s vision began to blur the tickling on his belly stopped, followed by the feet and then the chest. His body heaved and gulped at the air around him.
“FUCK!! *gasp gasp* YOU GODDAMN SONS OF BITCHES! *gasp gasp gasp* LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW YOU - “
Wes’s verbal assault was cut short by the gloved hands reaching between his legs: one cupped his balls and the other began to fondle his limp penis. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME! I WILL FUCKING KILL - UNGH!” The hands began to stroke him, the one on this balls squeezing gently and occasionally reaching back to rub his asshole; this caused his dick to grow despite his exhausted rage.
He babbled on at his silent company, gradually progressing from profane threats to involuntary moans and, finally, silence except for his urgent breaths. The hands on his genitals rubbed and squeezed, stroked and jerked and fingered the end of his penis. The sensations were liquid and electric, glorious arousal lapped at his belly and down his legs as the hands played him like a string. The person behind his head reached around to the front of him and rubbed index fingers in circles around his nipples, massaging the areolas and increasing the urgency of the orgasm building in his nuts.
“Duhh - Don’t. *grunt* Please, don't do this. *moan, cough* I don't want to be here. Why am I here? Why are you - UNGH! - Let me guh-nngg...!”
Wes continued to vie for any response as the hands rubbed him into oblivion. The hands on his penis rubbed faster and faster as the muscles in his legs and hips tensed and prepared for release - which came to him from the depths of his body, rumbling up from his asshole and his balls into his dick and up his stomach.
His nipples ached as they were rubbed while he came, hot semen shooting past his tormentor’s mask; Wes’s whole body tried to raise off of the table as his hips pumped against the hands holding him. The hands milked him over and over until his head was as spent as the rest of his body. His muscles ached and shook from the effort of laughing and begging and straining and coming.
“Holy … Christ,” Wes gasped. “The fu - AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!! HAHAHAHAHHA NOOOOOAHAHAHAHA!!”
All six hands grabbed him at once in their various positions on his body: a single finger swirled and poked in each of his hairy pits, pinching hands tickled his balls, ass cheeks and behind his thighs. Scratchy tickles raked up and down his scrunched soles, up and down, up and down. He screamed and laughed, the sudden post-orgasm tickles twice as horrible as they were before. Wave after wave of unstoppable giddiness shook his body.
The hands tickling his ass crawled up over his balls and grabbed his dick, holding the head steady with a fist and tickling it with rapid, light taps all over the end. Wes’s bottom squirmed and his thighs convulsed as peals of high pitched laughter escaped his raw throat. He had never experienced this kind of heinous dick tickling, and the zapping, erogenous sensations blasted thoughts from his mind. Meanwhile the single-finger pit tickling and foot scratching continued at a steady and devastating pace.
Ticklish sensations attacked him all over his body and he couldn't do anything to stop it or protect himself. His skin was on fire - everywhere a finger touched spread like a blast wave across his body. He cried and begged them to stop, finally losing the strength to fight against his bondage.
“Puh-puhlleeaassee,” Wes whined, tears streaming down his face. “Eeeeeeheeehee…”
His penis was dropped and the hands began to tickle rapidly from his ass up his balls, over his soft dick and out around his hips. They turned around and tickled back, over his penis and his balls, down to his ass - tickle tickle tickle. Then back up again, poke poke. Wes wiggled his ass and let out a wheezing laugh, his body convulsing every time the hands tickled his swollen, spent head.
As his ability to react at all to the sensations still zapping through him waned, the tickling slowed to a stop. Wes took in much needed air and hung his head in defeat; he didn't speak, he simply hung in his bonds and breathed. Minutes passed and he began to feel aware again. His heart raced knowing the tickling could start again at any time.
His captors began to move around him, the ones that had tickled his torso each taking a place on either side of him. The one at his feet moved forward and turned a crank below his ass in the chair - he felt his ankles being pushed farther apart by the shackles holding them and Wes began to sob and beg.
“NoNonono please, please don't. Stop just stop, please please please. Don't tickle me please don't. I can't stand it I'm dying please, please.” He began to sob legitimately with frustration: he didn't want this, he didn't know why this was happening. He wanted very badly to be able to hug himself. The crank continued until his legs spread twice as wide - his thighs were stretched and the inner muscles were visible.
Hands rubbed palms-down up his legs toward his dangling, vulnerable genitals. His dick pulsed and he watched the hands with frightened eyes. They wrapped gently around his penis and began to rub it. One finger poked around his asshole-hairs and he began to groan and hiccup out tiny laughs. His hands were tight fiats as he fought the arousal beginning to build in his lower abdomen. He felt raw. He did not want to come again. Maybe ever. He just wanted to cover himself.
Inevitably, after some time, Wes came. The orgasm built slowly, steadily egged on by the skilled manipulations of the blue gloved hands. Fingers rubbed his asshole and ball sac, massaging up to the bottom of the hardening shaft. He grunted and gasped as erotic twinges shot up and down his body; all of his hairs began to stand on end. He couldn't contain the moans anymore and they poured out of him as his rock-hard cock was rubbed and teased. His balls throbbed and he knew it was coming. His body convulsed and he cried out as the hands pulled another shot of semen from him. He squirted several more times as the hands continued their massage and he groaned and struggled. The hands released his semi-hard, exhausted dick.
Then, all six raised their hands, clawed, a pair each over a side of his torso and another pair over his genitals. The fingers began to wiggle slowly, like menacing spiders. Wes’s gasps became panicked whining and involuntary smiles. Babbling pleas poured from his mouth as he watched the hands descend slowly, a millimeter at a time, towards his prone, vulnerable body. “Nonono oh please, please no don't do it. Don't TOUCH me oh please don't no no no no please don't haHAhaHA noooo.”
He thrashed and flailed, his entire body red with crisscrosses lines and red marks from the tickling fingers all over him. He watched in a panic as the hands inches toward his body, wiggling, threatening, the smiling black masks horrifying and devious.
“pleeeheeeheeeaasssaaAAAHAHAHAHAHA NOOOOOHOHOHOO AAIIIIEEEEAHAHAHACAAAHAHAAHANNTT!! C-C. NNOOOAAAHAHA!!” Wes cried out as the hands landed and began to tickle.
Four hands landed on his torso and lobster-clawed his ribcage, digging in with just enough pressure to rip devastated squeals from his tired lungs. Jab jab jab, poke poke grab grab from just under each sweaty armpit to just below his heaving ribs.
The third set of hands began on the inside of each knee and crawled the fingers up the insides of his stretched thighs - slowly - heading toward his limp dick and swaying balls. As the hands climbed up his legs his thighs trembled, the tickling so intense that he was laughing open-mouth but silent, his face beet red and tears flow let freely down his cheeks. Wes begged desperately for the intense tickling to stop around screeching giggles.
His captors remained silent. The tickling went on for some time, alternating between deep muscle tickling and lighter surface tickles. They had relays in his most ticklish places, each one taking a turn at tickling his armpits. Then one at a time tickling his thighs and hips. Six hands attacking his feet, all over, in shifts. Then they all roughly poked him, from his arms to his ankles, with only their index fingers. The intermittent and randomized intense tickling drove him wild and he wheezed and cried so hard that they afforded him a few moments to breathe. When they began again it was to begin, in shifts, to tickle his balls and penis. Wes laughed and squealed as tears flowed freely down his cheeks.
Eventually Wes hung limp, his haggard breaths wheezing out of him in hiccups and whines. His joints twitched in their bonds, the last of the protective reflexes sputtering. His body was red and purple from the prolonged rib-jabbing and muscle pokes.
Wes again felt himself falling unconscious, exhaustion combined with a lack of oxygen overpowering his awareness. He could barely register when the tickling stopped. The light went out and he heard the shuffling feet of his ticklers leaving the room. A door opened and slammed shut. In moments, Wes was asleep.
Cheers and thanks for reading.
Six and Wes
Wes woke slowly, his awareness blurry and inconsistent. He was on his back, slightly folded, arms and legs splayed out but elevated - was he in a stirrups? Two ropes lashed his torso down and he was naked. The room was as dark with his eyes open as it was closed, and his heart began to race. What was this? Where was he?
The last thing Wes remembered he was leaving his office and getting into his car to go to the gym. Had he gotten in the car? He couldn't remember that much.
He heard a door creak open and some brief shuffling before bright lights clacked on, the sudden change blinding him - Wes tried to cry out in fright but his throat was tight and the sound came out as a whimper. His head was also lashed down and his eyes darted back and forth, searching for the people he heard shuffling.
“Hello? Who’s there? What’s this all about?” We looked down and could see his own hairy stomach down to where his legs bent up, his taint pointing forward - he was in stirrups and his arms were tied above his head to the back of the seat. “Let me out!” Wes yelled, his voice high with fear.
Three masked people in white lab coats stepped into his field of vision and Wes began to tremble. “Wh - who are you?”
None of them spoke - Wes couldn't tell if they were male or female. They wore blue latex gloves and full black masks with gaping, laughing grins. Wes felt exposed and afraid in a way he had never known - his eyes began to well with panicked tears. He couldn't see anything in the room beyond the medical lights bathing him and his prison chair in white.
Without speaking the three people began to move. One of them disappeared behind his head, one got between his legs and the third moved to his feet. The one he could see before him raised its gloved hands at him, the fingers clawed and wiggling. Wes’s heart was pounding. “Wh-why am I here?” he begged, “who are you? Don't touch me!”
Wes made a grunting sound as the hands dropped onto him - he felt rubber fingertips landing on his stomach to either side of his navel. More skittered into his exposed armpits and he felt two fingertips on each foot walk slowly but firmly from the bottom of his heel up to beneath his toes. The fingers returned to the heel and walked up again.
The touches on his belly and in his armpits ripped through him like lightning and a shaky, halting giggle rumbled up from inside him. “SsstooaahAHAHAHA!”
As he spoke the tickling fingers intensified in his sensitive spots. His tormentors still did not speak as he scrunched his eyes, struggling to pull himself together. “What the heehehehhhaaaAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!”
The person behind him began to run five fingers on each hand from the undersides of his wrists, down the arms and over the elbows, down the biceps and into his pits. The hands pulled gently on his armpit hair and grabbed at his stretched hollows, raking laughter out of him. Then they ran back up to the wrists. Down, dig at the pits. Tap tap poke poke. Back up and down again, pinching rapidly into the stretched hollows as his muscle strained to escape. Skitter skitter up, scratch scratch, skitter down over the elbows. Tap tap tap over the biceps, poke poke grab grab grab into the armpits: Wes tried to beg as he laughed hysterically.
The hands on his belly began to spider from just above his flopping penis up over his navel and outwards to his sides, which they fingered curiously, looking for the places that made his body clench. Fingers walked and poked across his skin, down to his lower belly - taptaptaptap - and up to his navel - poke, swirl, poke poke - and around his flanks - skitter skitter poke poke poke. Wes tried to wiggle against the bonds but could not move away from the tormenting fingers; his face was straining with forced laughter, sweat beginning to shine on the bands holding his head.
A finger and thumb on each side pinched his hips and flanks and traveled down over the crease of his thighs toward his knees. This was unbearable and his laughter became high pitched cackling, his body desperately trying to retrieve his limbs. The hands took his thigh muscles in their grasp and pinched hard, groping deftly down his thighs and lobster-clawing the joint above his kneecaps. The tickling was deep, rapid, and jolted his whole body; Wes cackled and squealed, his hands and feet flapping in their shackles..
He shook his legs and let out a series of guffaws as the hard-pinching hands made their way - grab grab grab - toward his inner thighs. They pinched at the muscles while he howled, moving - grab grab grab - back toward his knees. Grab grab grab. And up his thighs. He yanked on his arms and legs, his body trying to fold in half and protect him.
A guttural scream poured out of his mouth as the hands traveled over his hips back up his sides with the same fierce groping. He shook his body and tried to beg around the breathless laughter as gloved hands tickled his armpits and ribcage. Poke poke, tap tap - grab grab grab.
“WAAAAAHAHAHAHAA!! STAAAHAAHAAHAAAPP!! I-I-I CAAAHAAHAAAN’TAHAHAHAHA!! I CAAHAHAHAHAHANNAAHAHAHHHT!” Wes begged, his hands flailing in their bonds. His torturers didn't acknowledge his cries for mercy, but kept their steady tickling pace.
The one he could see did not meet his eyes as the blue hands danced over his skin and groped his torso, searching for his most ticklish places. As the hands poked over his hips he squealed and his hips jerked; the hands positioned themselves over his genitals, thumbs and fingers digging roughly into the sweaty creases on either side of his dangling balls. His legs pulled with renewed panic against the cuffs securing his ankles as he howled, desperate to protect his groin.
“NOOOOOOO!! AAAHAHAHAOMIGAAAHAHADD!! DOOOAHAHAHA - DOOOHOOHOONTT - AAAAAAHAHAHA!!” Wes cried out, a mixture of sobs beginning to creep into the peals of hysterical laughter. The hands in his armpits extended outward from his body, clawed and threatening, and snapped back in, viciously grabbing at his armpits. They repeated this over and over, wracking his body with squeals each time.
“PLEEEAAAHAHHAAHSSSAHAHA!!”
The hands at his feet traveled up over the tops of the toes and back down the tops of his feet toward the ankles. The gloves made the fingertips stick just a little and added extra ticklish jolts to every touch as they tapped up the shins to below the knee and around to the knee-pit. The hands scrabbled there for a few moments and traveled down under the calves, dragging and gently prodding the shaking muscles. Then back up the calves, into the knee joint (scrabble scrabble, tickle tap) around to the shin and down. And back. Up the shin, and down, up the calves and down.
The hands tickling his armpits began to descend and inched with heavy prods over his chest muscles. Wes was in good shape - he ate well and went to the gym a few times a week. The pec muscles strained to help pull his arms down and bopped along with his hilarious laughter. The hands tapped ticklish circles around his nipples, prodding the muscles gently but firmly as they swirled. His head began to swim as his senses were overloaded.
The hands reached down over his ribs and began to rub knuckles up and down his ribs like a washboard. The ticking was intense and deep, wracking his exhausted body with yet another wave of snorting laughter. The hands alternated between washboard knuckles and pec tickling while he hollered and groaned, trying to beg around the laughs being forced in and out of his body.
Still, his tormentors said nothing. He had no idea where he was or why his was happening. He could not stop it - he was exposed and confused. He could see and speak and hear and feel everything - mostly himself as he squirmed against his bonds and gasped for air around the non stop laughter being forced out of him.
Wes began to sob around the laughter as frustration and fear mixed with the giddy waves caused by the tickling. He found it harder and harder to stay aware. As Wes’s vision began to blur the tickling on his belly stopped, followed by the feet and then the chest. His body heaved and gulped at the air around him.
“FUCK!! *gasp gasp* YOU GODDAMN SONS OF BITCHES! *gasp gasp gasp* LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW YOU - “
Wes’s verbal assault was cut short by the gloved hands reaching between his legs: one cupped his balls and the other began to fondle his limp penis. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME! I WILL FUCKING KILL - UNGH!” The hands began to stroke him, the one on this balls squeezing gently and occasionally reaching back to rub his asshole; this caused his dick to grow despite his exhausted rage.
He babbled on at his silent company, gradually progressing from profane threats to involuntary moans and, finally, silence except for his urgent breaths. The hands on his genitals rubbed and squeezed, stroked and jerked and fingered the end of his penis. The sensations were liquid and electric, glorious arousal lapped at his belly and down his legs as the hands played him like a string. The person behind his head reached around to the front of him and rubbed index fingers in circles around his nipples, massaging the areolas and increasing the urgency of the orgasm building in his nuts.
“Duhh - Don’t. *grunt* Please, don't do this. *moan, cough* I don't want to be here. Why am I here? Why are you - UNGH! - Let me guh-nngg...!”
Wes continued to vie for any response as the hands rubbed him into oblivion. The hands on his penis rubbed faster and faster as the muscles in his legs and hips tensed and prepared for release - which came to him from the depths of his body, rumbling up from his asshole and his balls into his dick and up his stomach.
His nipples ached as they were rubbed while he came, hot semen shooting past his tormentor’s mask; Wes’s whole body tried to raise off of the table as his hips pumped against the hands holding him. The hands milked him over and over until his head was as spent as the rest of his body. His muscles ached and shook from the effort of laughing and begging and straining and coming.
“Holy … Christ,” Wes gasped. “The fu - AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!! HAHAHAHAHHA NOOOOOAHAHAHAHA!!”
All six hands grabbed him at once in their various positions on his body: a single finger swirled and poked in each of his hairy pits, pinching hands tickled his balls, ass cheeks and behind his thighs. Scratchy tickles raked up and down his scrunched soles, up and down, up and down. He screamed and laughed, the sudden post-orgasm tickles twice as horrible as they were before. Wave after wave of unstoppable giddiness shook his body.
The hands tickling his ass crawled up over his balls and grabbed his dick, holding the head steady with a fist and tickling it with rapid, light taps all over the end. Wes’s bottom squirmed and his thighs convulsed as peals of high pitched laughter escaped his raw throat. He had never experienced this kind of heinous dick tickling, and the zapping, erogenous sensations blasted thoughts from his mind. Meanwhile the single-finger pit tickling and foot scratching continued at a steady and devastating pace.
Ticklish sensations attacked him all over his body and he couldn't do anything to stop it or protect himself. His skin was on fire - everywhere a finger touched spread like a blast wave across his body. He cried and begged them to stop, finally losing the strength to fight against his bondage.
“Puh-puhlleeaassee,” Wes whined, tears streaming down his face. “Eeeeeeheeehee…”
His penis was dropped and the hands began to tickle rapidly from his ass up his balls, over his soft dick and out around his hips. They turned around and tickled back, over his penis and his balls, down to his ass - tickle tickle tickle. Then back up again, poke poke. Wes wiggled his ass and let out a wheezing laugh, his body convulsing every time the hands tickled his swollen, spent head.
As his ability to react at all to the sensations still zapping through him waned, the tickling slowed to a stop. Wes took in much needed air and hung his head in defeat; he didn't speak, he simply hung in his bonds and breathed. Minutes passed and he began to feel aware again. His heart raced knowing the tickling could start again at any time.
His captors began to move around him, the ones that had tickled his torso each taking a place on either side of him. The one at his feet moved forward and turned a crank below his ass in the chair - he felt his ankles being pushed farther apart by the shackles holding them and Wes began to sob and beg.
“NoNonono please, please don't. Stop just stop, please please please. Don't tickle me please don't. I can't stand it I'm dying please, please.” He began to sob legitimately with frustration: he didn't want this, he didn't know why this was happening. He wanted very badly to be able to hug himself. The crank continued until his legs spread twice as wide - his thighs were stretched and the inner muscles were visible.
Hands rubbed palms-down up his legs toward his dangling, vulnerable genitals. His dick pulsed and he watched the hands with frightened eyes. They wrapped gently around his penis and began to rub it. One finger poked around his asshole-hairs and he began to groan and hiccup out tiny laughs. His hands were tight fiats as he fought the arousal beginning to build in his lower abdomen. He felt raw. He did not want to come again. Maybe ever. He just wanted to cover himself.
Inevitably, after some time, Wes came. The orgasm built slowly, steadily egged on by the skilled manipulations of the blue gloved hands. Fingers rubbed his asshole and ball sac, massaging up to the bottom of the hardening shaft. He grunted and gasped as erotic twinges shot up and down his body; all of his hairs began to stand on end. He couldn't contain the moans anymore and they poured out of him as his rock-hard cock was rubbed and teased. His balls throbbed and he knew it was coming. His body convulsed and he cried out as the hands pulled another shot of semen from him. He squirted several more times as the hands continued their massage and he groaned and struggled. The hands released his semi-hard, exhausted dick.
Then, all six raised their hands, clawed, a pair each over a side of his torso and another pair over his genitals. The fingers began to wiggle slowly, like menacing spiders. Wes’s gasps became panicked whining and involuntary smiles. Babbling pleas poured from his mouth as he watched the hands descend slowly, a millimeter at a time, towards his prone, vulnerable body. “Nonono oh please, please no don't do it. Don't TOUCH me oh please don't no no no no please don't haHAhaHA noooo.”
He thrashed and flailed, his entire body red with crisscrosses lines and red marks from the tickling fingers all over him. He watched in a panic as the hands inches toward his body, wiggling, threatening, the smiling black masks horrifying and devious.
“pleeeheeeheeeaasssaaAAAHAHAHAHAHA NOOOOOHOHOHOO AAIIIIEEEEAHAHAHACAAAHAHAAHANNTT!! C-C. NNOOOAAAHAHA!!” Wes cried out as the hands landed and began to tickle.
Four hands landed on his torso and lobster-clawed his ribcage, digging in with just enough pressure to rip devastated squeals from his tired lungs. Jab jab jab, poke poke grab grab from just under each sweaty armpit to just below his heaving ribs.
The third set of hands began on the inside of each knee and crawled the fingers up the insides of his stretched thighs - slowly - heading toward his limp dick and swaying balls. As the hands climbed up his legs his thighs trembled, the tickling so intense that he was laughing open-mouth but silent, his face beet red and tears flow let freely down his cheeks. Wes begged desperately for the intense tickling to stop around screeching giggles.
His captors remained silent. The tickling went on for some time, alternating between deep muscle tickling and lighter surface tickles. They had relays in his most ticklish places, each one taking a turn at tickling his armpits. Then one at a time tickling his thighs and hips. Six hands attacking his feet, all over, in shifts. Then they all roughly poked him, from his arms to his ankles, with only their index fingers. The intermittent and randomized intense tickling drove him wild and he wheezed and cried so hard that they afforded him a few moments to breathe. When they began again it was to begin, in shifts, to tickle his balls and penis. Wes laughed and squealed as tears flowed freely down his cheeks.
Eventually Wes hung limp, his haggard breaths wheezing out of him in hiccups and whines. His joints twitched in their bonds, the last of the protective reflexes sputtering. His body was red and purple from the prolonged rib-jabbing and muscle pokes.
Wes again felt himself falling unconscious, exhaustion combined with a lack of oxygen overpowering his awareness. He could barely register when the tickling stopped. The light went out and he heard the shuffling feet of his ticklers leaving the room. A door opened and slammed shut. In moments, Wes was asleep.
