This is my first time writing a tickle story of any kind, so bare with me.
I've been toying with this particular idea for a while, hoping to find a decent plot-line and run with it. I have temporarily labeled this as "part I" because I have several ideas for a proper ending but don't know which one I want to use yet. I thought I'd leave this story at a cliffhanger for now instead.
Enjoy! Feel free to leave comments!
~*~
What a day. I've been out and about running errands and when I finally pull into the driveway I breathe out a sigh of relief. I take out the few grocery bags in the backseat and pull out my keys as I approach the front door.
“Babe, I’m back!” I shout, turning to close the door.
My boyfriend suddenly grabs my arms and holds them behind my back, whispering, "I've been waiting for you to come home. I want to have some fun.”
He then tries to drag me with him into the bedroom as I struggle to get free from him. He finally takes a tie from his pocket and binds my wrists together, placing my arms over his head and around his neck so that I'm stuck. He pokes my sides, taunting me.
"Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be. Don't make me punish you.”
As his fingers begin to jab between each and every one of my ribs, I squeal, bouncing around on my tip-toes, unable to protect myself.
Between bursts of giggles I manage to squeeze out an, ”Okay, okay! I give.”
He lifts my arms over his head, allowing me to rest for a minute. He picks me up, carrying me, my wrists still bound, down the hall and into the bedroom. He sets me down and locks the door, then turns to face me. The look in his eyes is maddening. He's like a hungry beast, ready to destroy me. I run to the door to try and unlock it but he catches me by the waist and drags me over to the closet where he has set up what looks like some kind of strange torture device in the doorway. He slides my bound wrists over a hook at the top of the doorframe so that I am standing on my tippy-toes, arms pulled up above me. He casually slides a desk chair in front of me and sits down, gazing at me as I squirm and struggle in my captivity.
"Keep trying to escape," he says, "in a few hours you'll wish you could.”
He then proceeds to poke all over my upperbody, making me giggle and dance around. I’m no belly dancer, but my hips swivel furiously as his fingers scribble along my sides. After a minute or two he stops and lifts my t-shirt over my face. My sports bra is now my only line of defense. I can’t see what he’s doing or where he is but I can feel his presence. I feel him move behind me, his fingers digging into my hipbones. My giggles turn to laughter as he continues. He digs into my ribs with both hands and I'm squirming in a frenzy, knowing this is just the beginning. Finally, after he's had his few minutes of fun, he pulls my shirt back down and removes my hands from the hook. Sweet release.
He then unties my hands and tells me to strip. I stare at him in disbelief. He tells me again. I don't move.
He says, "Alright then, no safeword for you today. Now take off your clothes."
Uh oh, I'm in trouble. I pull my shirt over my head and remove my shorts. I'm left standing in just my bra and underwear. He stares at me and I fold my arms in front of me, trying to defend myself from what is sure to be an oncoming attack. He doesn't look pleased.
"Why did you stop?" he asks.
"I-I don't know," I stammer, "I thought this is what you meant."
He looks me over, smiling to himself. "Oh, no. I want you completely vulnerable. Keep going or I'll really make you suffer."
I hesitantly unhook my bra and slip off my underwear. There's nowhere to hide now. He tells me to put my arms at my sides and stand with my feet shoulder-width apart. I do so. He walks around me in a circle, taking in the sight of me from every possible angle.
"Oh, I'm going to have some fun with you today," he says.
I get nervous, unsure of what exactly to expect. He grabs me by the waist and throws me onto the bed. I scramble to sit up but he's suddenly there, sitting on my waist, attaching my hands to some restraints at the headboard. They feel strangely loose but I'm not about to let him know. Next he walks over to the foot of the bed and attaches my feet to two more restraints. Huh. They're loose too. It's then that the reality of the situation sets in: I’m spread eagle and am about to be subjected to a tickle torture more intense than I can imagine. I squirm and struggle against my restraints, pulling with all my might in hopes that at least one of my hands will break free. But nothing works. Suddenly, I feel the restraints begin to tug. I look over and there's a remote in his hand. Some kind of mechanized rig is pulling the restraints towards the opposite ends of the bed, stretching me until I cannot move. I start to whimper.
"Wait, no, please don't do that. I'll be good, I promise. Just give me some wiggle room. Please!"
He sets down the remote and walks to the foot of the bed.
”Your beautiful little body looks so delicious when it's pulled taut. I'm going to enjoy every moment of this. Look how your abs are tensing. Your breathing rate has increased. Your little chest is moving up and down so quickly. You must be nervous. I would be if I were you. Imagine what I'm going to subject you to. There's no time limit. No safeword. Just me, my tools, and you. Get ready. I think you'll be a little tired after all of this."
I plead with him, "Please don't! Please! I don't think I can handle it! Let me go! Please! I'll do whatever you want!"
He smiles at me and slowly goes over to the desk. He picks up a blindfold and a gag.
"Well, right now, I want you to submit to me. And you do want to follow my rules, don't you? You don't really have much choice."
"Wait, wait! No, please! What if I need you to stop! What if I can't breathe! What if-"
The gag is tied around my mouth before I can finish my thought.
I moan pleadingly through the gag, "Mmmmppeeeasseeee nooooo."
My eyes meet his. His face is aglow with pure joy. His smile is the last thing I see before the world goes dark behind the blindfold.
"Now then, your sensitivity to touch will be heightened which make things even more fun. Let's see what a little tickling does to you now that I have you under my complete control.”
I hear him moving towards the foot of the bed. I struggle with my restraints, tugging helplessly at each of them as I feel one finger slide slowly down the arch of my right foot.
“Ahhhhmm noooooo! Staaaaahp!” I screech through the gag.
“You didn’t say please,” he says.
He now has two fingers running up and down the sole of my foot, making me squirm. I’m laughing through my gag, trying not to drool. Then he adds a third finger. Then a fourth. Then suddenly all ten of his fingers are scribbling furiously along the sides of my foot, causing me to shriek.
“Mmmmmpppp ahahahahh staaaahhhp it stahhhp it! Et ticklesssshhhahaha!”
With his other hand I feel him hold my toes back, and his five fingers begin their ticklish assault on the ball of my foot. I’m writhing in ticklish agony, begging him to stop. After a few minutes, I feel him release my right foot and I sigh in relief. I’m breathing heavily, my chest heaving up and down. I try to catch my breath.
But he’s on to the left foot and he’s not starting off slowly. All ten of his fingers rake across my left sole, rendering me a laughing mess.
“MmmppahaHAHAHAahah NOOO hahaHAHAha ahhh nooo!”
He continues his finger attack on my left foot for quite some time before I feel a new sensation: a very light touch, very soft…Oh no, not a fea-
He interrupts my train of thought, aggressively tickling the arch of my foot while threading a feather between each and every one of my toes. He drops my left foot and begins again on my right, tickling between my toes as he grazes a feather along my arch.
I’m shouting through my gag, begging him to stop so I can breathe.
“AAHHHHAHAMMMMMM STAAHHHHPPP AHHAHA CAN’T AHHH BREAAATHHHAHAHAA!”
To my surprise, he stops. I didn’t expect him to just quit. I hear him moving over by the closet, shuffling something around. Next thing I know he’s untying my feet. I kick a little bit, testing my limits, when he grabs my right foot and places it on a cold, hard surface. Next my left. Then I hear the clap of wood and try to kick…but it’s no use. I can’t move. Stocks. I’m in stocks. He’s not setting me free. He’s going to torture my feet!
I feel him graze my right arch with his fingers as he grabs my big toe and ties it tightly. I can’t flex or scrunch my foot. This is not good. His teases my left foot, grabs my big toe, and ties it as well.
“Nononono doooon’t!” I groan, mentally preparing for what insane torture he might have planned next.
“You’re not getting out of here so easily, sweet girl,” he laughs tauntingly. “Oh, no, I’ve got something very special planned for you.”
I hear the quick pop of a lid and he says, “Your beautiful little feet are already so soft and smooth…let’s see what happens when I rub a little baby oil on them.”
His hand brushes along my right foot, spreading the cold oil from toe to heel. I shiver. His fingers glide up and down my sole as if they’re ice skating and I giggle, my laughter growing in intensity as his tickle torture continues. Suddenly all ten of his fingers are tickling away at my poor foot and I’m writhing in my restraints, trying desperately to escape his touch.
“HAHHahahAHAAAHHA NOOOOOO HAHAAAAHAHahaHAHAHA!” I half laugh, half scream through my gag. He pays no attention. He quickly douses my left foot in baby oil as well and now each of my feet is being viciously attacked by one of his hands.
I feel tears begin to well in my eyes as my laughter morphs into screams of ticklish madness. I’m losing all control of my body, every fiber of my being, every nerve is becoming increasingly sensitive. I can’t stop it! I can’t stop him!
His fingers scribble across my soles and between my toes, causing me to buck and bounce around on the bed. And then, another new sensation: a hairbrush!
“MMMMNOOOOAHAHAHAHAHNOHAHAHAHASTAAAHHHP!”
My words mush together and I’m falling apart, a sweaty, shivering, screaming mess. He switches the hairbrush from one foot to the other, teasing me cruelly. I can’t breathe, I can’t even scream. I’m being destroyed by his touch from the outside in. I feel my eyes start to get heavy and all sound becomes strangely muffled. Is this what it feels like to pass out?
I feel him climb on to the bed. He’s stopped. He’s stopped! He crawls between my shaking legs and pauses.
“Whateryoudooeng?!” I mumble, still only half-conscious.
“This,” he replies.
I feel one finger trace lightly along the crease of my labia. He barely grazes my clit but I’m awakened immediately. A warm tingling sensation begins to seep into the depths my stomach.
“Please?” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond.
I've been toying with this particular idea for a while, hoping to find a decent plot-line and run with it. I have temporarily labeled this as "part I" because I have several ideas for a proper ending but don't know which one I want to use yet. I thought I'd leave this story at a cliffhanger for now instead.
Enjoy! Feel free to leave comments!~*~
What a day. I've been out and about running errands and when I finally pull into the driveway I breathe out a sigh of relief. I take out the few grocery bags in the backseat and pull out my keys as I approach the front door.
“Babe, I’m back!” I shout, turning to close the door.
My boyfriend suddenly grabs my arms and holds them behind my back, whispering, "I've been waiting for you to come home. I want to have some fun.”
He then tries to drag me with him into the bedroom as I struggle to get free from him. He finally takes a tie from his pocket and binds my wrists together, placing my arms over his head and around his neck so that I'm stuck. He pokes my sides, taunting me.
"Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be. Don't make me punish you.”
As his fingers begin to jab between each and every one of my ribs, I squeal, bouncing around on my tip-toes, unable to protect myself.
Between bursts of giggles I manage to squeeze out an, ”Okay, okay! I give.”
He lifts my arms over his head, allowing me to rest for a minute. He picks me up, carrying me, my wrists still bound, down the hall and into the bedroom. He sets me down and locks the door, then turns to face me. The look in his eyes is maddening. He's like a hungry beast, ready to destroy me. I run to the door to try and unlock it but he catches me by the waist and drags me over to the closet where he has set up what looks like some kind of strange torture device in the doorway. He slides my bound wrists over a hook at the top of the doorframe so that I am standing on my tippy-toes, arms pulled up above me. He casually slides a desk chair in front of me and sits down, gazing at me as I squirm and struggle in my captivity.
"Keep trying to escape," he says, "in a few hours you'll wish you could.”
He then proceeds to poke all over my upperbody, making me giggle and dance around. I’m no belly dancer, but my hips swivel furiously as his fingers scribble along my sides. After a minute or two he stops and lifts my t-shirt over my face. My sports bra is now my only line of defense. I can’t see what he’s doing or where he is but I can feel his presence. I feel him move behind me, his fingers digging into my hipbones. My giggles turn to laughter as he continues. He digs into my ribs with both hands and I'm squirming in a frenzy, knowing this is just the beginning. Finally, after he's had his few minutes of fun, he pulls my shirt back down and removes my hands from the hook. Sweet release.
He then unties my hands and tells me to strip. I stare at him in disbelief. He tells me again. I don't move.
He says, "Alright then, no safeword for you today. Now take off your clothes."
Uh oh, I'm in trouble. I pull my shirt over my head and remove my shorts. I'm left standing in just my bra and underwear. He stares at me and I fold my arms in front of me, trying to defend myself from what is sure to be an oncoming attack. He doesn't look pleased.
"Why did you stop?" he asks.
"I-I don't know," I stammer, "I thought this is what you meant."
He looks me over, smiling to himself. "Oh, no. I want you completely vulnerable. Keep going or I'll really make you suffer."
I hesitantly unhook my bra and slip off my underwear. There's nowhere to hide now. He tells me to put my arms at my sides and stand with my feet shoulder-width apart. I do so. He walks around me in a circle, taking in the sight of me from every possible angle.
"Oh, I'm going to have some fun with you today," he says.
I get nervous, unsure of what exactly to expect. He grabs me by the waist and throws me onto the bed. I scramble to sit up but he's suddenly there, sitting on my waist, attaching my hands to some restraints at the headboard. They feel strangely loose but I'm not about to let him know. Next he walks over to the foot of the bed and attaches my feet to two more restraints. Huh. They're loose too. It's then that the reality of the situation sets in: I’m spread eagle and am about to be subjected to a tickle torture more intense than I can imagine. I squirm and struggle against my restraints, pulling with all my might in hopes that at least one of my hands will break free. But nothing works. Suddenly, I feel the restraints begin to tug. I look over and there's a remote in his hand. Some kind of mechanized rig is pulling the restraints towards the opposite ends of the bed, stretching me until I cannot move. I start to whimper.
"Wait, no, please don't do that. I'll be good, I promise. Just give me some wiggle room. Please!"
He sets down the remote and walks to the foot of the bed.
”Your beautiful little body looks so delicious when it's pulled taut. I'm going to enjoy every moment of this. Look how your abs are tensing. Your breathing rate has increased. Your little chest is moving up and down so quickly. You must be nervous. I would be if I were you. Imagine what I'm going to subject you to. There's no time limit. No safeword. Just me, my tools, and you. Get ready. I think you'll be a little tired after all of this."
I plead with him, "Please don't! Please! I don't think I can handle it! Let me go! Please! I'll do whatever you want!"
He smiles at me and slowly goes over to the desk. He picks up a blindfold and a gag.
"Well, right now, I want you to submit to me. And you do want to follow my rules, don't you? You don't really have much choice."
"Wait, wait! No, please! What if I need you to stop! What if I can't breathe! What if-"
The gag is tied around my mouth before I can finish my thought.
I moan pleadingly through the gag, "Mmmmppeeeasseeee nooooo."
My eyes meet his. His face is aglow with pure joy. His smile is the last thing I see before the world goes dark behind the blindfold.
"Now then, your sensitivity to touch will be heightened which make things even more fun. Let's see what a little tickling does to you now that I have you under my complete control.”
I hear him moving towards the foot of the bed. I struggle with my restraints, tugging helplessly at each of them as I feel one finger slide slowly down the arch of my right foot.
“Ahhhhmm noooooo! Staaaaahp!” I screech through the gag.
“You didn’t say please,” he says.
He now has two fingers running up and down the sole of my foot, making me squirm. I’m laughing through my gag, trying not to drool. Then he adds a third finger. Then a fourth. Then suddenly all ten of his fingers are scribbling furiously along the sides of my foot, causing me to shriek.
“Mmmmmpppp ahahahahh staaaahhhp it stahhhp it! Et ticklesssshhhahaha!”
With his other hand I feel him hold my toes back, and his five fingers begin their ticklish assault on the ball of my foot. I’m writhing in ticklish agony, begging him to stop. After a few minutes, I feel him release my right foot and I sigh in relief. I’m breathing heavily, my chest heaving up and down. I try to catch my breath.
But he’s on to the left foot and he’s not starting off slowly. All ten of his fingers rake across my left sole, rendering me a laughing mess.
“MmmppahaHAHAHAahah NOOO hahaHAHAha ahhh nooo!”
He continues his finger attack on my left foot for quite some time before I feel a new sensation: a very light touch, very soft…Oh no, not a fea-
He interrupts my train of thought, aggressively tickling the arch of my foot while threading a feather between each and every one of my toes. He drops my left foot and begins again on my right, tickling between my toes as he grazes a feather along my arch.
I’m shouting through my gag, begging him to stop so I can breathe.
“AAHHHHAHAMMMMMM STAAHHHHPPP AHHAHA CAN’T AHHH BREAAATHHHAHAHAA!”
To my surprise, he stops. I didn’t expect him to just quit. I hear him moving over by the closet, shuffling something around. Next thing I know he’s untying my feet. I kick a little bit, testing my limits, when he grabs my right foot and places it on a cold, hard surface. Next my left. Then I hear the clap of wood and try to kick…but it’s no use. I can’t move. Stocks. I’m in stocks. He’s not setting me free. He’s going to torture my feet!
I feel him graze my right arch with his fingers as he grabs my big toe and ties it tightly. I can’t flex or scrunch my foot. This is not good. His teases my left foot, grabs my big toe, and ties it as well.
“Nononono doooon’t!” I groan, mentally preparing for what insane torture he might have planned next.
“You’re not getting out of here so easily, sweet girl,” he laughs tauntingly. “Oh, no, I’ve got something very special planned for you.”
I hear the quick pop of a lid and he says, “Your beautiful little feet are already so soft and smooth…let’s see what happens when I rub a little baby oil on them.”
His hand brushes along my right foot, spreading the cold oil from toe to heel. I shiver. His fingers glide up and down my sole as if they’re ice skating and I giggle, my laughter growing in intensity as his tickle torture continues. Suddenly all ten of his fingers are tickling away at my poor foot and I’m writhing in my restraints, trying desperately to escape his touch.
“HAHHahahAHAAAHHA NOOOOOO HAHAAAAHAHahaHAHAHA!” I half laugh, half scream through my gag. He pays no attention. He quickly douses my left foot in baby oil as well and now each of my feet is being viciously attacked by one of his hands.
I feel tears begin to well in my eyes as my laughter morphs into screams of ticklish madness. I’m losing all control of my body, every fiber of my being, every nerve is becoming increasingly sensitive. I can’t stop it! I can’t stop him!
His fingers scribble across my soles and between my toes, causing me to buck and bounce around on the bed. And then, another new sensation: a hairbrush!
“MMMMNOOOOAHAHAHAHAHNOHAHAHAHASTAAAHHHP!”
My words mush together and I’m falling apart, a sweaty, shivering, screaming mess. He switches the hairbrush from one foot to the other, teasing me cruelly. I can’t breathe, I can’t even scream. I’m being destroyed by his touch from the outside in. I feel my eyes start to get heavy and all sound becomes strangely muffled. Is this what it feels like to pass out?
I feel him climb on to the bed. He’s stopped. He’s stopped! He crawls between my shaking legs and pauses.
“Whateryoudooeng?!” I mumble, still only half-conscious.
“This,” he replies.
I feel one finger trace lightly along the crease of my labia. He barely grazes my clit but I’m awakened immediately. A warm tingling sensation begins to seep into the depths my stomach.
“Please?” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond.
