stampstock
TMF Master
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2001
- Messages
- 984
- Points
- 16
I had hoisted and bound her so fast that she couldn't register quickly enough what was happening to her. Thankfully, because if she wasn't nipping the grog, you know....
I took a soft-knot gag from the pouch, the type American Indians used, yeah, and using my right hand, gently pulled her hair from behind, a look of fear growing within her sockets. "Open," I snarled. She looked like she was going to scream. Couldn't have that. I leaned against her left ear, brushing my lips softly against the folds. "Comon, open for me, just a little, army girl" I cooed, trying a softer approach. The name 'army girl' reminded her that this was still in fun, because the fear fell from her eyes and was replaced with relief. Her mouth stopped threatening to scream. Her throat relaxed. "Tell me, little army girl," I said, as I helped myself to her left underarm just inches away, "with your arms tied high above your head like this, you aren't TICKLISH, are you?" I spider tickled directly in the smooth hollow, immediately registering it's soft silkiness against my fingers. Man, this girl was a mostly tight, gym-workout, ass-kicking type, but there she was, so feminine, strung up and openly displayed before me, trying not to open her mouth as she fought back the giggles. Her lips slowly peeled apart, which itself showed her torment because her lips seemed glued together, peeling apart with an inaudible rip despite her best efforts. The first laugh wasn't enough to get the gag into her mouth, but it escalated to the most beautiful music, and in went the gag. I didn't stop tickling her left underarm, and added to her increasing madness by reaching across and tickling both her underarms. She was so terribly ticklish that she was shrieking into the gag, bouncing in her boots, as she was forced to stand in place. I wanted to keep her off guard so I quickly clawed my fingers into her sides, wriggled them into her ribs, clawed at her abs, returning to her armpits. She bounced, hopped, danced, swayed and most of all, laughed her head off. I was crazed, and her eyes sought some kind of mercy. She was already losing her mind, and it seemed like she'd never been tickled before. Not like this.
Then I heard it. "What are you doing?" came a voice from the side of the room. Without stopping, I looked over and said what I had been rehearsing throughout, "We made a bet. She said the tickling would only make it interesting and couldn't stop her from getting loose." I looked into her eyes. "She still has to get out of this. What time is it?" No one answered. I didn't care.
I thought they would stop me. I thought they would throw me out. Maybe offer to help. But they just stood there, taunting her, laughing themselves. I'm a genius, I thought, but when one guy started for her, I waved him off, saying that I'd lose the bet if I got some help. She freaked out, and started screaming into the gag, the only words which made sense to me were "help me" and "crazy bastard". These were easliy drowned away with a torrent of tickled laughter from deep inside her gorgeous belly and the silky smooth softness of her underarms. I vibrated my fingers into her ribs, digging and vibrating, pulling shrieks and screams from her muffled throat. And yeah, I couldn't help but press my groin selfishly into her hips.
The harem girl was standing close; she had come around the corner and gasped when she saw her friend so trussed and helpless. Then she laughed. "You want to be next?", I asked. "No," she said, "I want to help." And she walked behind her friend, grabbed her by the hips, whispered something in her ear which made her freak again, and clawed expertly at her back and shoulders, forcing her to arch her back and thrust forward in spasms. I picked up on this cue and tickled her front as she arched, and together we see-sawed the army girl for about a full minute. Great tickling, but our girl was clearly exhausted. I gave her a few seconds rest, keeping her on edge with light spasmodic grab-tickles whenever she tried to call out, and I had one of the guys push over a large easy chair from the corner. Everyone had a hand in swinging her feet off the floor and I kept tickling her while the chair was positioned under her. She sat as she faced the backrest, with her legs pulled up in front of her and her black boots reaching the top lovingly at the achilles heel. More rope from the pouch and her ankles were bound securely to the chair. It didn't matter anymore if there ever was a bet. It was no longer even mentioned. There was a mob frenzy in control, and who was I to argue.
To be continued, if ya want..?
Feedback please...........
I took a soft-knot gag from the pouch, the type American Indians used, yeah, and using my right hand, gently pulled her hair from behind, a look of fear growing within her sockets. "Open," I snarled. She looked like she was going to scream. Couldn't have that. I leaned against her left ear, brushing my lips softly against the folds. "Comon, open for me, just a little, army girl" I cooed, trying a softer approach. The name 'army girl' reminded her that this was still in fun, because the fear fell from her eyes and was replaced with relief. Her mouth stopped threatening to scream. Her throat relaxed. "Tell me, little army girl," I said, as I helped myself to her left underarm just inches away, "with your arms tied high above your head like this, you aren't TICKLISH, are you?" I spider tickled directly in the smooth hollow, immediately registering it's soft silkiness against my fingers. Man, this girl was a mostly tight, gym-workout, ass-kicking type, but there she was, so feminine, strung up and openly displayed before me, trying not to open her mouth as she fought back the giggles. Her lips slowly peeled apart, which itself showed her torment because her lips seemed glued together, peeling apart with an inaudible rip despite her best efforts. The first laugh wasn't enough to get the gag into her mouth, but it escalated to the most beautiful music, and in went the gag. I didn't stop tickling her left underarm, and added to her increasing madness by reaching across and tickling both her underarms. She was so terribly ticklish that she was shrieking into the gag, bouncing in her boots, as she was forced to stand in place. I wanted to keep her off guard so I quickly clawed my fingers into her sides, wriggled them into her ribs, clawed at her abs, returning to her armpits. She bounced, hopped, danced, swayed and most of all, laughed her head off. I was crazed, and her eyes sought some kind of mercy. She was already losing her mind, and it seemed like she'd never been tickled before. Not like this.
Then I heard it. "What are you doing?" came a voice from the side of the room. Without stopping, I looked over and said what I had been rehearsing throughout, "We made a bet. She said the tickling would only make it interesting and couldn't stop her from getting loose." I looked into her eyes. "She still has to get out of this. What time is it?" No one answered. I didn't care.
I thought they would stop me. I thought they would throw me out. Maybe offer to help. But they just stood there, taunting her, laughing themselves. I'm a genius, I thought, but when one guy started for her, I waved him off, saying that I'd lose the bet if I got some help. She freaked out, and started screaming into the gag, the only words which made sense to me were "help me" and "crazy bastard". These were easliy drowned away with a torrent of tickled laughter from deep inside her gorgeous belly and the silky smooth softness of her underarms. I vibrated my fingers into her ribs, digging and vibrating, pulling shrieks and screams from her muffled throat. And yeah, I couldn't help but press my groin selfishly into her hips.
The harem girl was standing close; she had come around the corner and gasped when she saw her friend so trussed and helpless. Then she laughed. "You want to be next?", I asked. "No," she said, "I want to help." And she walked behind her friend, grabbed her by the hips, whispered something in her ear which made her freak again, and clawed expertly at her back and shoulders, forcing her to arch her back and thrust forward in spasms. I picked up on this cue and tickled her front as she arched, and together we see-sawed the army girl for about a full minute. Great tickling, but our girl was clearly exhausted. I gave her a few seconds rest, keeping her on edge with light spasmodic grab-tickles whenever she tried to call out, and I had one of the guys push over a large easy chair from the corner. Everyone had a hand in swinging her feet off the floor and I kept tickling her while the chair was positioned under her. She sat as she faced the backrest, with her legs pulled up in front of her and her black boots reaching the top lovingly at the achilles heel. More rope from the pouch and her ankles were bound securely to the chair. It didn't matter anymore if there ever was a bet. It was no longer even mentioned. There was a mob frenzy in control, and who was I to argue.
To be continued, if ya want..?
Feedback please...........
