Monday
Ren Yamakano was what the dictionary had in mind when “ethereal” and “beautiful” were defined. She was blessed with classic Oriental/Japanese features in a heart-shaped face that housed the loveliest doe eyes, the cutest nose and sensually pouty lips. Her long black hair was finer than silk and it fell all the way to her knees.
Her current hairstyle was a thick ponytail that fell to the back of her knees, while her fringe was perfectly coiffured to fall to her waist. The rest of her glorious mane was leveled at her shoulders in a wide frame. If the Sheik had decided to colour her hair blue or pink, she would have looked like she had popped out from a typical Japanese sex anime cartoon.
Ren was slim of build, but owned a set of full and firm breasts. Her buttocks were perfectly sculptured to rounded proportions. It was no wonder that the Sheik had chosen her to be the Oriental “representative” of his Harem collection.
She was currently nude, squirming sexily in a bondage chair, legs spread apart and outwards, with straps across her ankles, knees and thighs. Toe rings prevented any wiggling. Her arms were tied together, then bent at the elbows over her head, secured to a ring at the back of the chair. Straps across her waist and between her breasts secured her to the chair.
The door to the room opened easily and the Sheik sauntered in. The sight of him sent a shudder through Ren’s body. The Sheik was a plump middle-aged man, with a garish purple turban on his head. He was dressed only in a loose pair of trousers at the moment, but the bulge of his manhood could clearly be seen. He had an evil leer on his face as he walked around his bound naked plaything.
“And has my pretty Monday tickle slave missed me?” he asked with a snicker.
“Y-yes, Master. Your slave has missed you very much,” Ren replied in a trembly voice.
“Of course you miss me,” the Sheik answered expansively. “After all, you only get to enjoy my attention once a week only! Now tell me, Monday, what do you miss about me?” he slowly dragged a finger down her right elbow, travelling towards her defenceless underarm.
Ren gasped and whimpered at this trail of ticklish sensations. Her traitorous body betrayed her, as her breasts hardened and her pussy grew moist. The Sheik smiled knowingly at her reactions. Ren was a true tickle slave; a gorgeous plaything who was incredibly turned on by tickling, but absolutely hated her sexual reactions to this form of torture. “Well, slave?” The Sheik asked again, tracing his finger along the deep crease of her armpit.
Ren moaned in agony and pleasure from this tickling, soft mewling noises coming from her throat. “Master! I miss you so much,” she forced herself to say. “Oh Master, I miss your hands running all over my body, tickling me without mercy,” she degraded herself, hoping without hope that her Master would leave her alone.
“Anything else?” the Sheik teased her, tracing the firm contours of her left breast with his other hand, even as he continued the light tickling of her underarm. Ren gurgled helplessly under his constant stimulation. She could feel her loins heating up even more, and she hated herself for it. Tears sprung forth in her eyes, giving them a shimmering appearance.
She hated the betrayal of her body, knowing that this was meant to be a torture, but her body reacting as though it was the most pleasurable thing in the whole world! It wouldn’t have been so bad if this was a lover of hers, whom she was willing to submit her body to, but this was her kidnapper, her enslaver! And to react with intense pleasure at the cruel ways he used her body made her weep with frustration.
“You like this, don’t you, Monday?” The Sheik asked Ren. His fingers were now at her sides, applying the slightest pressure by her waist. Ren was panting with desire by now, hating the feelings coursing between her legs, yet craving the sweet release of orgasm. “Of course you do,” he answered his own question. His fingers dug into her soft flesh.
Ren shrieked at the ticklish assault upon her flesh and torrents of hysterical laughter poured forth from her lips. Her hips were grinding against the chair helplessly as she was brought to a humiliating orgasm. Her Master moved his hands all over her torso, using a gentle but firm massaging motion on her ribs, leaving her a hysterical, screaming wreck.
His fingers ran across her belly, tickling with a light but rapid stroke. Her facial expressions were a sight to behold as she tried to hold back the laughter threatening to spill forth. Then he dug his fingers into her soft, quivering belly. The laughter she was holding back burst forth in torrents of musical laughter. Mixed with her tortured laughter were moans and soft gasps of intermittent pleasure as the cruel tickling gave her a masochistic pleasure.
The Sheik dug his fingers into Ren’s underarms, wiggling away with great delight at the ease he could torment his bound plaything. She screamed at the horribly ticklish sensations, then her mouth remained in a wide ‘O’ shape as she laughed silently at this tickle torture. Finally, the Sheik ceased his tickling. Ren remained in the chair limply, her head lolling on her chest as she panted to catch her breath.
He moved to her feet, gently caressing her trapped soles. She whimpered in terror at what was to come. “Did you like that, Monday?” the Sheik taunted his plaything. “How many times did you cum?”
“No Master, please, I don’t like it,” Ren wept pitifully, hating her body for constantly betraying her arousal at this cruel torture.
He dipped his fingers between her legs, easily entering her warm moist pussy. Ren moaned softly at his stimulation. “I think you’re lying, my pretty,” the Sheik said, grinding his finger in her pussy. “You’re so wet already!” he teased. Then to prove his point, he grabbed her knees and began kneading away. Ren shrieked at this sudden tickling assault. Her body bucked helplessly in her bondage and her face was full of ticklish agony.
“Oh yes, you like this very much indeed!” the Sheik called out, amidst Ren’s tortured laughter. “Look, your clit’s all engorged and poking out!” He watched in rapt fascination as Ren tried desperately to hold back her orgasm, loving the way her skin turned a deep red colour. He could see the humiliation in her eyes as she struggled to keep the orgasm at bay. Then with a loud wail of despair, she succumbed to her desires and her body convulsed powerfully as the orgasm ripped through her body. The Sheik stopped tickling her knees, a lustful smile on his face.
“No more, Master, please, no more,” Ren begged pitifully. “I can’t take this anymore,” she wailed.
“Nonsense, my pretty,” the Sheik replied, running his fingers rapidly across her helpless soles making her laugh hysterically. “It’s so obvious you like this!” he chuckled evilly. His fingers increased the speed of his tickling. “Let’s see how many more times I can make you come, eh?”
“NOOOOO!!!”
Ren was now on a bondage rack, her legs bent at the knees, arms bent at the elbows, her wrists tied to her ankles. It left her belly and thighs totally vulnerable to whatever tortures the Sheik desired to inflict on her beautiful body. She was groaning and whimpering at her helplessness. The Sheik was seated at her side, his hands idly roaming her torso at the moment. The door opened and two servants entered, bringing in a tray of food and drinks for him. Leaving the tray by his side, they bowed low and left.
“Ah, all that tickling has worked up a great appetite,” the Sheik told Ren conversationally. He picked up a slice of chicken cutlet and placed it on her left thigh, sprinkling some salt onto her right thigh. Her body stiffened as she guessed her Master’s intentions. “Looks delicious!” he laughed, bending forward. He took the chicken slice into his mouth, making sure his lips locked onto her thigh. Ren whimpered at the ticklish sensations of his lips vibrating gently on her thigh.
Then he began to chew and nibble and she screamed with tortured laughter at the cruel tickling his mouth inflicted on her. He raised his head and leered at her. “Some salt to flavour the chicken next,” he informed her, bringing his mouth to her right thigh. He used his tongue to great effect, licking up the salt from her thigh, his tongue leaving a wet, unbearable ticklish trail wherever it went.
He then poured a small quantity of top quality ice-cold white wine onto Ren’s belly. She gasped and shuddered at the coldness of the wine. He then leaned forward and proceeded to drink the wine off her belly, making sure to suck up the wine with slurping sound. Ren could only scream with ticklish agony and laugh hysterically. Her laughter took on a desperate, frenzied tone when the Sheik inserted his tongue into her cute belly button, making sure to lick all over.
This went on for some time till the Sheik had sated his appetite for the moment. Ren lay on the rack, wheezing pitifully as she tried to catch her breath, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. The Sheik stroked her hair like a prized puppy as he looked down upon her bound body as a prized possession. “Ah, my pretty, you must be hungry after all those orgasms,” he snickered. He dropped his trousers and pressed his manhood to her soft lips.
“You need some meat to build up your strength,” he chuckled evilly. Ren moaned with despair but opened her lips obediently. He closed his eyes in rapturous pleasure. With one hand still stroking her hair, his other hand moved between her legs, diddling her helpless clit. “Oh, yes,” he murmured dreamily. “There’s no such thing as Monday Blues with you around!”
*******************************************************
Megan couldn’t believe her feet could ever be so ticklish; she never imagined a pedicure could be turned into a pure, evil tickle torture session either. Her feet were spread apart, one Arab girl at each foot. The one at her right foot was using a pumice stone to gently rub her baby-soft sole all over, turning the gorgeous redhead into a hysterical wreck.
The torturer at her left foot as using a small nail file to rub between her toes, every point of contact of the file against her toes causing the most unbearable ticklish sensations to shoot through her body. Megan had lost track of time already, trapped in this ticklish hell of hers. When they first started the pedicure tickling, she had screamed and bucked and laughed hysterically, but now she was only able to cry pitifully. Each ticklish stroke driving home her helplessness, her inability to escape this dreadful torment. Her hair was plastered to her face with her perspiration and tears.
Finally they ceased the pedicure tickling. She wept in blessed relief. “Please! I beg you, no more! I can’t take it anymore,” she pleaded through her tears. The girl at her left foot dragged her finger down her sole, testing the smoothness of the skin. Megan hollered at the top of her lungs, unable to bear even this ticklish stroke. “NO PLEASE! NO MORE!!” she screamed in desperation.
“Uhmm,” the torturer murmured to her partner. “Feels nice and soft- and very tickly,” running her fingers lightly over Megan’s left sole. Megan began crying again at this unending torment.
The other torturer at her right foot began to lightly pinch her toes, making poor Megan wail in anguish. “Oh yes, so nice and cute!” she enthused. “I guess we’ve finished her pedicure,” she told her partner, and they both stopped tickling Megan. She stared pleadingly at her torturers, hoping it was over. “No more pedicures for you today, slave,” the girl informed Megan. She closed her eyes in relief and she sobbed with gratitude.
The other torturer held up an electric toothbrush and a pail of soapy water, handing a small, high-pressure water spray to her partner. A sinking feeling appeared in Megan’s belly. “No…” she whispered, shaking her head in denial.
“We just need to clean up your feet now- wouldn’t take more than a few hours,” one of them told her. Megan wept.
***********************************************************
Tuesday next, anyone?
Ren Yamakano was what the dictionary had in mind when “ethereal” and “beautiful” were defined. She was blessed with classic Oriental/Japanese features in a heart-shaped face that housed the loveliest doe eyes, the cutest nose and sensually pouty lips. Her long black hair was finer than silk and it fell all the way to her knees.
Her current hairstyle was a thick ponytail that fell to the back of her knees, while her fringe was perfectly coiffured to fall to her waist. The rest of her glorious mane was leveled at her shoulders in a wide frame. If the Sheik had decided to colour her hair blue or pink, she would have looked like she had popped out from a typical Japanese sex anime cartoon.
Ren was slim of build, but owned a set of full and firm breasts. Her buttocks were perfectly sculptured to rounded proportions. It was no wonder that the Sheik had chosen her to be the Oriental “representative” of his Harem collection.
She was currently nude, squirming sexily in a bondage chair, legs spread apart and outwards, with straps across her ankles, knees and thighs. Toe rings prevented any wiggling. Her arms were tied together, then bent at the elbows over her head, secured to a ring at the back of the chair. Straps across her waist and between her breasts secured her to the chair.
The door to the room opened easily and the Sheik sauntered in. The sight of him sent a shudder through Ren’s body. The Sheik was a plump middle-aged man, with a garish purple turban on his head. He was dressed only in a loose pair of trousers at the moment, but the bulge of his manhood could clearly be seen. He had an evil leer on his face as he walked around his bound naked plaything.
“And has my pretty Monday tickle slave missed me?” he asked with a snicker.
“Y-yes, Master. Your slave has missed you very much,” Ren replied in a trembly voice.
“Of course you miss me,” the Sheik answered expansively. “After all, you only get to enjoy my attention once a week only! Now tell me, Monday, what do you miss about me?” he slowly dragged a finger down her right elbow, travelling towards her defenceless underarm.
Ren gasped and whimpered at this trail of ticklish sensations. Her traitorous body betrayed her, as her breasts hardened and her pussy grew moist. The Sheik smiled knowingly at her reactions. Ren was a true tickle slave; a gorgeous plaything who was incredibly turned on by tickling, but absolutely hated her sexual reactions to this form of torture. “Well, slave?” The Sheik asked again, tracing his finger along the deep crease of her armpit.
Ren moaned in agony and pleasure from this tickling, soft mewling noises coming from her throat. “Master! I miss you so much,” she forced herself to say. “Oh Master, I miss your hands running all over my body, tickling me without mercy,” she degraded herself, hoping without hope that her Master would leave her alone.
“Anything else?” the Sheik teased her, tracing the firm contours of her left breast with his other hand, even as he continued the light tickling of her underarm. Ren gurgled helplessly under his constant stimulation. She could feel her loins heating up even more, and she hated herself for it. Tears sprung forth in her eyes, giving them a shimmering appearance.
She hated the betrayal of her body, knowing that this was meant to be a torture, but her body reacting as though it was the most pleasurable thing in the whole world! It wouldn’t have been so bad if this was a lover of hers, whom she was willing to submit her body to, but this was her kidnapper, her enslaver! And to react with intense pleasure at the cruel ways he used her body made her weep with frustration.
“You like this, don’t you, Monday?” The Sheik asked Ren. His fingers were now at her sides, applying the slightest pressure by her waist. Ren was panting with desire by now, hating the feelings coursing between her legs, yet craving the sweet release of orgasm. “Of course you do,” he answered his own question. His fingers dug into her soft flesh.
Ren shrieked at the ticklish assault upon her flesh and torrents of hysterical laughter poured forth from her lips. Her hips were grinding against the chair helplessly as she was brought to a humiliating orgasm. Her Master moved his hands all over her torso, using a gentle but firm massaging motion on her ribs, leaving her a hysterical, screaming wreck.
His fingers ran across her belly, tickling with a light but rapid stroke. Her facial expressions were a sight to behold as she tried to hold back the laughter threatening to spill forth. Then he dug his fingers into her soft, quivering belly. The laughter she was holding back burst forth in torrents of musical laughter. Mixed with her tortured laughter were moans and soft gasps of intermittent pleasure as the cruel tickling gave her a masochistic pleasure.
The Sheik dug his fingers into Ren’s underarms, wiggling away with great delight at the ease he could torment his bound plaything. She screamed at the horribly ticklish sensations, then her mouth remained in a wide ‘O’ shape as she laughed silently at this tickle torture. Finally, the Sheik ceased his tickling. Ren remained in the chair limply, her head lolling on her chest as she panted to catch her breath.
He moved to her feet, gently caressing her trapped soles. She whimpered in terror at what was to come. “Did you like that, Monday?” the Sheik taunted his plaything. “How many times did you cum?”
“No Master, please, I don’t like it,” Ren wept pitifully, hating her body for constantly betraying her arousal at this cruel torture.
He dipped his fingers between her legs, easily entering her warm moist pussy. Ren moaned softly at his stimulation. “I think you’re lying, my pretty,” the Sheik said, grinding his finger in her pussy. “You’re so wet already!” he teased. Then to prove his point, he grabbed her knees and began kneading away. Ren shrieked at this sudden tickling assault. Her body bucked helplessly in her bondage and her face was full of ticklish agony.
“Oh yes, you like this very much indeed!” the Sheik called out, amidst Ren’s tortured laughter. “Look, your clit’s all engorged and poking out!” He watched in rapt fascination as Ren tried desperately to hold back her orgasm, loving the way her skin turned a deep red colour. He could see the humiliation in her eyes as she struggled to keep the orgasm at bay. Then with a loud wail of despair, she succumbed to her desires and her body convulsed powerfully as the orgasm ripped through her body. The Sheik stopped tickling her knees, a lustful smile on his face.
“No more, Master, please, no more,” Ren begged pitifully. “I can’t take this anymore,” she wailed.
“Nonsense, my pretty,” the Sheik replied, running his fingers rapidly across her helpless soles making her laugh hysterically. “It’s so obvious you like this!” he chuckled evilly. His fingers increased the speed of his tickling. “Let’s see how many more times I can make you come, eh?”
“NOOOOO!!!”
Ren was now on a bondage rack, her legs bent at the knees, arms bent at the elbows, her wrists tied to her ankles. It left her belly and thighs totally vulnerable to whatever tortures the Sheik desired to inflict on her beautiful body. She was groaning and whimpering at her helplessness. The Sheik was seated at her side, his hands idly roaming her torso at the moment. The door opened and two servants entered, bringing in a tray of food and drinks for him. Leaving the tray by his side, they bowed low and left.
“Ah, all that tickling has worked up a great appetite,” the Sheik told Ren conversationally. He picked up a slice of chicken cutlet and placed it on her left thigh, sprinkling some salt onto her right thigh. Her body stiffened as she guessed her Master’s intentions. “Looks delicious!” he laughed, bending forward. He took the chicken slice into his mouth, making sure his lips locked onto her thigh. Ren whimpered at the ticklish sensations of his lips vibrating gently on her thigh.
Then he began to chew and nibble and she screamed with tortured laughter at the cruel tickling his mouth inflicted on her. He raised his head and leered at her. “Some salt to flavour the chicken next,” he informed her, bringing his mouth to her right thigh. He used his tongue to great effect, licking up the salt from her thigh, his tongue leaving a wet, unbearable ticklish trail wherever it went.
He then poured a small quantity of top quality ice-cold white wine onto Ren’s belly. She gasped and shuddered at the coldness of the wine. He then leaned forward and proceeded to drink the wine off her belly, making sure to suck up the wine with slurping sound. Ren could only scream with ticklish agony and laugh hysterically. Her laughter took on a desperate, frenzied tone when the Sheik inserted his tongue into her cute belly button, making sure to lick all over.
This went on for some time till the Sheik had sated his appetite for the moment. Ren lay on the rack, wheezing pitifully as she tried to catch her breath, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. The Sheik stroked her hair like a prized puppy as he looked down upon her bound body as a prized possession. “Ah, my pretty, you must be hungry after all those orgasms,” he snickered. He dropped his trousers and pressed his manhood to her soft lips.
“You need some meat to build up your strength,” he chuckled evilly. Ren moaned with despair but opened her lips obediently. He closed his eyes in rapturous pleasure. With one hand still stroking her hair, his other hand moved between her legs, diddling her helpless clit. “Oh, yes,” he murmured dreamily. “There’s no such thing as Monday Blues with you around!”
*******************************************************
Megan couldn’t believe her feet could ever be so ticklish; she never imagined a pedicure could be turned into a pure, evil tickle torture session either. Her feet were spread apart, one Arab girl at each foot. The one at her right foot was using a pumice stone to gently rub her baby-soft sole all over, turning the gorgeous redhead into a hysterical wreck.
The torturer at her left foot as using a small nail file to rub between her toes, every point of contact of the file against her toes causing the most unbearable ticklish sensations to shoot through her body. Megan had lost track of time already, trapped in this ticklish hell of hers. When they first started the pedicure tickling, she had screamed and bucked and laughed hysterically, but now she was only able to cry pitifully. Each ticklish stroke driving home her helplessness, her inability to escape this dreadful torment. Her hair was plastered to her face with her perspiration and tears.
Finally they ceased the pedicure tickling. She wept in blessed relief. “Please! I beg you, no more! I can’t take it anymore,” she pleaded through her tears. The girl at her left foot dragged her finger down her sole, testing the smoothness of the skin. Megan hollered at the top of her lungs, unable to bear even this ticklish stroke. “NO PLEASE! NO MORE!!” she screamed in desperation.
“Uhmm,” the torturer murmured to her partner. “Feels nice and soft- and very tickly,” running her fingers lightly over Megan’s left sole. Megan began crying again at this unending torment.
The other torturer at her right foot began to lightly pinch her toes, making poor Megan wail in anguish. “Oh yes, so nice and cute!” she enthused. “I guess we’ve finished her pedicure,” she told her partner, and they both stopped tickling Megan. She stared pleadingly at her torturers, hoping it was over. “No more pedicures for you today, slave,” the girl informed Megan. She closed her eyes in relief and she sobbed with gratitude.
The other torturer held up an electric toothbrush and a pail of soapy water, handing a small, high-pressure water spray to her partner. A sinking feeling appeared in Megan’s belly. “No…” she whispered, shaking her head in denial.
“We just need to clean up your feet now- wouldn’t take more than a few hours,” one of them told her. Megan wept.
***********************************************************
Tuesday next, anyone?
