Steve and Michael shared a dirty little secret.
As far as the outside world was concerned, they were simply a couple of college students who shared an off-campus apartment on the third floor of an old house just off campus. Michael had a girlfriend back home in Springfield, Illinois, and Steve was dating a comely coed named Alicia. To all appearances, they were typical college students.
Appearances can be deceptive, however, and so they were in this case. The truth was that for almost a year, Steve and Michael had been carrying on an illicit affair. Neither one of them thought of himself as gay, and they had never allowed things to progress past the point of mutual masturbation. But they’d spent many a rainy-afternoon and late-night hour kneeling naked, face to face, stroking one another’s baby-oiled cocks and exchanging whispered endearments—a pastime that would certainly have been difficult to explain to the women in their lives.
It was perhaps inevitable that their little idyll would come to an unfortunate end, but the way in which this happened was a shock to them both. Slender, silk-skinned Michael hardly realized how his feeling for his muscular roomie had evolved until one night when he found himself suggesting to Steve that they take their relationship to “the next level.” At the moment that Michael had whispered this suggestion, Steve was trembling on the brink of orgasm, and later he wondered if he hadn’t said something that gave his roomie the wrong impression. As a matter of fact, Steve had always been somewhat conflicted about their activities at the level of mutual masturbation. He certainly had no intention of “going all the way” with Michael, as he phrased it to himself.
Things went on in this way for several more weeks. Michael’s whispered suggestions became more and more explicit each time they knelt facing one another with stiff cocks and goosebumps roughening their bare skin. Finally there came a day when Steve’s girlfriend Alicia asked him if anything was wrong. He knew then that it was over between him and Michael.
The trouble was that Michael didn’t know it—and didn’t want to hear it.
Michael brooded for several days after Steve broke the bad news. Was there anything he could do to change his roomie’s mind? On a Wednesday afternoon in early February, he stood at his second-storey bedroom window, watching slow fill up the back yard. The Weather Channel was predicting twenty-five inches or more, with major blowing and drifting. The university had cancelled classes for the rest of the week. The owners of the house, who occupied the first floor, had cleared out for Florida at the first hint of blizzard conditions. Michael and Steve had the place to themselves, and they were well on the way to being snowed in.
Michael smiled and turned from the window. He knew what he had to do.
It was merely a matter of getting Steve’s attention, he told himself. Michael was confident that if he could do that, he could persuade his roomie to reconsider his hasty decision. Michael was even willing to defer progress to “the next level”; reciprocal hand jobs were better than nothing, after all. He told himself that with patience, he might eventually bring Steve along with him to a higher plane of pleasure—but first things first. It was urgently necessary to make Steve see the error of his ways now, at a time when there would be no pesky distractions or interruptions.
The blizzard would provide a perfect opportunity for the two of them to work on their relationship.
A stealthy trip to the basement provided Michael with the materials he needed. After stashing them in his closet, he sat down to consider how best to get Steve under his control. In the end, he decided on sleeping pills. Two or three, dissolved in the hot coffee that Steve would probably want when he arrived home, would zonk him out long enough for Michael to set the stage.
Everything was ready when Steve came through the front door just after five. “Man, it’s bad out there!” he exclaimed. “I nearly got stuck half a dozen times.”
“Yeah, they’re forecasting at least twenty-five inches by morning,” Michael said.
Steve didn’t reply. In recent days their conversation had dwindled. Michael knew that Steve was looking for another place to live. Steve knew that Michael was distraught over the demise of their relationship. It was an awkward situation no matter how you looked at it.
“I made coffee,” Michael said.
“Thanks, I could use some.”
So Steve drank the drug-laced coffee, and in a few minutes he was yawning, and in a few minutes more he was crashed out in his bedroom, dead to the world. Michael had no trouble undressing him, rolling him onto his back, and securing his ankles to the brass corner posts of the old brass bed with the rope he’d found in the basement. Steve moaned and muttered when his arms were pulled up and his wrists were bound to the rail behind his head, but he didn’t return to consciousness. Michael stood at the side of the bed, staring down at the toned, naked body of his roomie. Now all he had to do was wait. . .
When he came to, Steve didn’t immediately grasp the details of his situation. He was too groggy to notice that he was stark naked, with his arms and legs bound to the brass bed rails. He thought that his limbs refused to obey him because he was still half asleep. Reality only dawned when a voice somewhere above him whispered, “Hi there, Stevie.”
It was Michael’s voice, and the sound of it made Steve start. That was when he discovered that he was tied down to the bed. “What the FUCK?!” he yelled.
“Interesting choice of words, Stevie.” Michael chuckled. “I was just wondering the same thing myself.”
“What the hell do you think you’re DOING?” Steve demanded. “This is total BULLSHIT!”
“You know what I’m doing,” Michael answered after a brief but pregnant pause. “It’s what we both want, Stevie. The only difference between us is that I’ve admitted it to myself, and you haven’t.”
“Admitted WHAT?” Steve cried. He saw that his roomie was also naked, and he gulped. “You’re talking CRAZY, Michael. Just untie me, all right?”
“You know you love me, Stevie.” Michael put a hand high on his helpless roommate’s thigh. “You’re just afraid of what that means. So today we’re going to make that fear go away.”
Steve cringed as Michael’s hand gently stroked his thigh. He thought he knew what his randy roomie meant, and a shiver of fear passed through his body.
“It’s snowing like mad,” Michael whispered as he continued to stroke Steve’s thigh. “We’re alone in the house and no one’s going to bother us for hours and hours, Stevie. Isn’t that GREAT?”
“Come on, Michael.” Steve struggled to keep his voice steady. “This isn’t a good idea. Shit, it’s kidnapping! You could go to JAIL, for Christ’s sake!”
“But you’ll never testify against me, Stevie.” Michael’s hand strayed to his roommate’s tense belly. “After today, you won’t WANT to.”
At that, Steve finally lost his cool. “STOP it!” he screamed as Michael moved his hand down slightly. “Don’t TOUCH me there!”
“You used to LIKE it when I touched you there,” Michael pouted. His hand slipped down a bit more—and he took Steve’s balls in a firm but gentle grip.
“GAAAAAAAA!!!” Steve shrieked as that delicate portion of his anatomy was given a slight squeeze. “Help! HELP! Somebody help me PLEASE!”
“That’s why I’m here, Stevie.” Michael climbed onto the bed to kneel between his helpless roommate’s wide-open legs. “To help you get in touch with your feelings.”
Steve made a mighty effort to slip his bonds, but it was a useless effort. Never before in his life had he felt so defenseless and exposed. His skin crawled with dread anticipation. What was Michael going to DO to him? The answer was not long in coming.
“I thought of several ways to help you overcome your inhibitions,” Michael explained. “Argument, begging—even blackmail. But then I thought, why bother with any of that stuff when I know your weakness? It was right there all along—the power to turn you into my docile little sex poodle. Because poor Stevie is so fucking TICKLISH!”
“Oh NO!” Steve cried. “Oh GOD no! You can’t! You just CAN’T!”
“Can’t I?” Michael shrugged. “We’ll see about that, Stevie.” And with a wicked grin he flourished his weapons of choice—two large, stiff, pointed feathers!
Steve made a convulsive, futile effort to bring his arms down and his knees up in defense of his torso. He knew what Michael would do with those feathers. And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to STAND it—!
“Please!” he sobbed. “Please don’t! I’m BEGGING you!”
But it was not use. “Ready or not, here it comes!” Michael sang. And still grinning, he brought the feathers down and began to stroke Steve’s sides from armpits to ribs!
“EEEEEEEE-HEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-HEEE!!!” Steve shrieked. He wiggled to and fro in a frantic, futile attempt to escape the maddening caress of the feathers. “EEEE!!! EEEE!!! EEEE!!! EEEE-HEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE!!!”
“That’s right,” Michael nodded. “You laugh just as loud as you want, Stevie. No one’s going to hear you.”
“BWAAAHAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA!!!” Steve howled. His face was already turning pink. “AAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!”
“I don’t know how long it’s going to take to tickle your inhibitions away,” Michael said. “It could take HOURS, Stevie. But that’s all right. I’m willing to work on our relationship—and you have no CHOICE!”
“EEEEYAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!” Steve screamed as the feathers probed his armpits. Gooseflesh roughened his skin, making the dark hairs on his arms and legs stand up straight. And that wasn’t all that was standing up straight, either. Somehow, despite the torture to which he was being subjected by his ruthless roomie, Steve’s cock had become rigid with excitement!
The traitorous behavior of his joystick was Steve’s first intimation that Michael’s plan might actually work. Why had he broken off their arrangement in the first place? Because he was no longer interested? Or because he was becoming TOO interested. . .?
“OH-NO!!! OH-HO!!! OH-HO-HO-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO!!!” he bellowed, as much in denial of that frightening thought as in reaction to Michael’s excruciating ministrations. “PLEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEESE!!!”
“That’s right,” Michael nodded. “You’re getting all EXCITED, aren’t you? That’s because you LIKE it. You like it a LOT.”
In point of fact, Steve HATED the horribly lewd sensations that gripped his body—hared them yet LOVED them. His guts felt all loose and greasy. His balls were tense with excitement. A tiny clear drop of pre-cum winked at the tip of his yearning cock. At that moment, he would have sold his soul to Satan if only the feathers would dip down to caress his balls and his quivering shaft. But instead, the unbearable tickling torment went on and relentlessly on!
“I see no reason to make it easy on you,” Michael explained as he swept the feathers up and down his shrieking victim’s sides. “You need to be taught a LESSON, Stevie.”
“HIIIEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-HEEE- HIIIEEE!!!” Steve howled. “EEEE-HEEE!!! EEEE-HEEE!!! EEEE-HEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE!!!”
He writhed, squirmed, wiggled, sweated and screamed for many more minutes until Michael finally decided to grant him a short respite. As Steve lay trembling and gasping for air, his randy roomie leaned forward and smiled down at him.
“I bet that at this point you’d really like to cum, wouldn’t you?” Michael chuckled. “Well, Stevie, if you’re a good little boy I might just let you. Eventually.”
“Michael. . .please. . .” Steve moaned. “I’ll do anything. . .anything you say. . .but PLEASE!”
“Anything?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose you would after what I’ve just put you through. Being tickled and tickled and TICKLED until you’re tickled SILLY tends to do that.”
“You were right about me!” Steve cried. “I love you! I swear to GOD!”
“Ah, Stevie.” Michael ran his fingers through his victim’s dark chest hair. “If only I could be sure of that.”
“You have to BELIEVE me!” Steve insisted. But Michael shook his head.
“Actually,” he said, “I don’t HAVE to do anything. I mean, think about it, Stevie. I have you all naked and tied down and it’s still snowing outside and no one’s going to disturb us. So let’s say that I decide to tickle you some more. Who’s going to stop me?”
“Oh, no!” Steve screamed. “Omygod NO!”
He made a desperate, foredoomed effort to wiggle out of his bonds. Already his skin was crawling with terror at the thought of more tickle torture. And yet—and yet there was also something deliciously sexy about this situation. It gave him a rush to have Michael kneeling naked between his wide-open legs. He couldn’t help but recall the pleasures of their past trysts. He couldn’t help longing to feel the feathers’ caress on his BALLS and on his COCK—!
But Michael said, “How about your feet? Are they ticklish too?” And with that, he rolled to the floor, knelt at the foot of the bed and began to stroke Steve’s defenseless bare soles!
“BWAAAHAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!” Steve bellowed. His naked, sweat-covered body writhed madly as intense ticklish thrills shot up the backs of his legs. His belly convulsed with the effort of forcing out scream after scream of insane, anguished laughter. “HAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!! AAAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA- HAAA-AAAAH-HAAA-HAAA!!!”
Michael was using brushes of some kind to torment his prisoner’s wiggling feet. Probably toothbrushes, a small still voice whispered inside Steve’s head. It was odd how in the middle of this fit of shrieking hysterics, his brain was still capable of formulating the occasional coherent thought. But then another ticklish jolt shot up his legs to tighten his asshole and loosen his guts, and Steve forgot all about toothbrushes.
Even when Steve’s laughter faded to a dry, desperate wheeze and his struggles dwindled to a feeble shiver, Michael took no pity on his victim. He paused only long enough to find a feather, resume his previous position on the bed and dip that feather down between his helpless roomie’s thighs to stroke his pulsing balls!
“GAAAAAAHAAAAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!” Steve shrieked. He arched his back and wiggled his hips, desperately inviting the feather’s tormenting caress. The head of his cock, now thoroughly lubricated with pre-cum, seemed to swell. He felt as if the feather was tickling his actual INSIDES and it was driving him of his fucking MIND! Steve knew that only one thing could save him from tumbling headlong into a bottomless pit of total insanity. He had to CUM! He had to cum right NOW!
But Michael wouldn’t LET him cum! Michael was careful with the feather. When he thought that Steve was getting too close, he drew back for a moment, stroking his own rigid rod as he watched his victim squirm and beg for release. From time to time, he transferred his attentions back to Steve’s ribs and armpits. But always, with an avid smile, he would return to his primary target. And gradually, he allowed the feather to stray from Steve’s balls to the delicate underside of his high-angled cock.
Steve made many promises during that final phase of his training. He told himself that he was saying these things simply in order to make Michael stop torturing him. But deep down inside, he knew better. Steve was promising to be Michael’s docile sex poodle because he LOVED being tortured by tickling. Soon Michael would make him cum, and then the torture would end, but Steve would do ANYTHING to earn another such punishment.
Meanwhile, a lustful, totally MAGNIFICENT sensation was building and BUILDING in his balls. He was close now, he was so VERY close, and the feather was teasing the slick tip of his joystick. Steve’s body went rigid, then he trembled all over, then he arched his back again—and then he was cumming his stupid fucking BRAINS out!
“UUUUNNNNGGGGHHHH!!!” Steve grunted as he squirted all over himself. “UGH!!! UGH!!! UGH!!! UUUUGGGGHHHH!!!!”
Waves of pure orgasmic pleasure swept over him, washing away all thought. Steve could focus only on the bittersweet, ecstatic kiss of the feather. He cried out in a voice made faint and throaty by a joyous pain. Beyond fear and humiliation now, stripped at last of his inhibitions, Steve surrendered to his fate.
Michael continued to stroke with the feather until he was certain that Steve had completely emptied his balls. Then he leaned forward and with a lewd grin, whispered, “My turn, Steve.”
It showed all night and most of the next day, so Steve had plenty of time to make good on his many promises to the demanding Michael.
As far as the outside world was concerned, they were simply a couple of college students who shared an off-campus apartment on the third floor of an old house just off campus. Michael had a girlfriend back home in Springfield, Illinois, and Steve was dating a comely coed named Alicia. To all appearances, they were typical college students.
Appearances can be deceptive, however, and so they were in this case. The truth was that for almost a year, Steve and Michael had been carrying on an illicit affair. Neither one of them thought of himself as gay, and they had never allowed things to progress past the point of mutual masturbation. But they’d spent many a rainy-afternoon and late-night hour kneeling naked, face to face, stroking one another’s baby-oiled cocks and exchanging whispered endearments—a pastime that would certainly have been difficult to explain to the women in their lives.
It was perhaps inevitable that their little idyll would come to an unfortunate end, but the way in which this happened was a shock to them both. Slender, silk-skinned Michael hardly realized how his feeling for his muscular roomie had evolved until one night when he found himself suggesting to Steve that they take their relationship to “the next level.” At the moment that Michael had whispered this suggestion, Steve was trembling on the brink of orgasm, and later he wondered if he hadn’t said something that gave his roomie the wrong impression. As a matter of fact, Steve had always been somewhat conflicted about their activities at the level of mutual masturbation. He certainly had no intention of “going all the way” with Michael, as he phrased it to himself.
Things went on in this way for several more weeks. Michael’s whispered suggestions became more and more explicit each time they knelt facing one another with stiff cocks and goosebumps roughening their bare skin. Finally there came a day when Steve’s girlfriend Alicia asked him if anything was wrong. He knew then that it was over between him and Michael.
The trouble was that Michael didn’t know it—and didn’t want to hear it.
Michael brooded for several days after Steve broke the bad news. Was there anything he could do to change his roomie’s mind? On a Wednesday afternoon in early February, he stood at his second-storey bedroom window, watching slow fill up the back yard. The Weather Channel was predicting twenty-five inches or more, with major blowing and drifting. The university had cancelled classes for the rest of the week. The owners of the house, who occupied the first floor, had cleared out for Florida at the first hint of blizzard conditions. Michael and Steve had the place to themselves, and they were well on the way to being snowed in.
Michael smiled and turned from the window. He knew what he had to do.
It was merely a matter of getting Steve’s attention, he told himself. Michael was confident that if he could do that, he could persuade his roomie to reconsider his hasty decision. Michael was even willing to defer progress to “the next level”; reciprocal hand jobs were better than nothing, after all. He told himself that with patience, he might eventually bring Steve along with him to a higher plane of pleasure—but first things first. It was urgently necessary to make Steve see the error of his ways now, at a time when there would be no pesky distractions or interruptions.
The blizzard would provide a perfect opportunity for the two of them to work on their relationship.
A stealthy trip to the basement provided Michael with the materials he needed. After stashing them in his closet, he sat down to consider how best to get Steve under his control. In the end, he decided on sleeping pills. Two or three, dissolved in the hot coffee that Steve would probably want when he arrived home, would zonk him out long enough for Michael to set the stage.
Everything was ready when Steve came through the front door just after five. “Man, it’s bad out there!” he exclaimed. “I nearly got stuck half a dozen times.”
“Yeah, they’re forecasting at least twenty-five inches by morning,” Michael said.
Steve didn’t reply. In recent days their conversation had dwindled. Michael knew that Steve was looking for another place to live. Steve knew that Michael was distraught over the demise of their relationship. It was an awkward situation no matter how you looked at it.
“I made coffee,” Michael said.
“Thanks, I could use some.”
So Steve drank the drug-laced coffee, and in a few minutes he was yawning, and in a few minutes more he was crashed out in his bedroom, dead to the world. Michael had no trouble undressing him, rolling him onto his back, and securing his ankles to the brass corner posts of the old brass bed with the rope he’d found in the basement. Steve moaned and muttered when his arms were pulled up and his wrists were bound to the rail behind his head, but he didn’t return to consciousness. Michael stood at the side of the bed, staring down at the toned, naked body of his roomie. Now all he had to do was wait. . .
When he came to, Steve didn’t immediately grasp the details of his situation. He was too groggy to notice that he was stark naked, with his arms and legs bound to the brass bed rails. He thought that his limbs refused to obey him because he was still half asleep. Reality only dawned when a voice somewhere above him whispered, “Hi there, Stevie.”
It was Michael’s voice, and the sound of it made Steve start. That was when he discovered that he was tied down to the bed. “What the FUCK?!” he yelled.
“Interesting choice of words, Stevie.” Michael chuckled. “I was just wondering the same thing myself.”
“What the hell do you think you’re DOING?” Steve demanded. “This is total BULLSHIT!”
“You know what I’m doing,” Michael answered after a brief but pregnant pause. “It’s what we both want, Stevie. The only difference between us is that I’ve admitted it to myself, and you haven’t.”
“Admitted WHAT?” Steve cried. He saw that his roomie was also naked, and he gulped. “You’re talking CRAZY, Michael. Just untie me, all right?”
“You know you love me, Stevie.” Michael put a hand high on his helpless roommate’s thigh. “You’re just afraid of what that means. So today we’re going to make that fear go away.”
Steve cringed as Michael’s hand gently stroked his thigh. He thought he knew what his randy roomie meant, and a shiver of fear passed through his body.
“It’s snowing like mad,” Michael whispered as he continued to stroke Steve’s thigh. “We’re alone in the house and no one’s going to bother us for hours and hours, Stevie. Isn’t that GREAT?”
“Come on, Michael.” Steve struggled to keep his voice steady. “This isn’t a good idea. Shit, it’s kidnapping! You could go to JAIL, for Christ’s sake!”
“But you’ll never testify against me, Stevie.” Michael’s hand strayed to his roommate’s tense belly. “After today, you won’t WANT to.”
At that, Steve finally lost his cool. “STOP it!” he screamed as Michael moved his hand down slightly. “Don’t TOUCH me there!”
“You used to LIKE it when I touched you there,” Michael pouted. His hand slipped down a bit more—and he took Steve’s balls in a firm but gentle grip.
“GAAAAAAAA!!!” Steve shrieked as that delicate portion of his anatomy was given a slight squeeze. “Help! HELP! Somebody help me PLEASE!”
“That’s why I’m here, Stevie.” Michael climbed onto the bed to kneel between his helpless roommate’s wide-open legs. “To help you get in touch with your feelings.”
Steve made a mighty effort to slip his bonds, but it was a useless effort. Never before in his life had he felt so defenseless and exposed. His skin crawled with dread anticipation. What was Michael going to DO to him? The answer was not long in coming.
“I thought of several ways to help you overcome your inhibitions,” Michael explained. “Argument, begging—even blackmail. But then I thought, why bother with any of that stuff when I know your weakness? It was right there all along—the power to turn you into my docile little sex poodle. Because poor Stevie is so fucking TICKLISH!”
“Oh NO!” Steve cried. “Oh GOD no! You can’t! You just CAN’T!”
“Can’t I?” Michael shrugged. “We’ll see about that, Stevie.” And with a wicked grin he flourished his weapons of choice—two large, stiff, pointed feathers!
Steve made a convulsive, futile effort to bring his arms down and his knees up in defense of his torso. He knew what Michael would do with those feathers. And he knew that he wouldn’t be able to STAND it—!
“Please!” he sobbed. “Please don’t! I’m BEGGING you!”
But it was not use. “Ready or not, here it comes!” Michael sang. And still grinning, he brought the feathers down and began to stroke Steve’s sides from armpits to ribs!
“EEEEEEEE-HEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-HEEE!!!” Steve shrieked. He wiggled to and fro in a frantic, futile attempt to escape the maddening caress of the feathers. “EEEE!!! EEEE!!! EEEE!!! EEEE-HEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE!!!”
“That’s right,” Michael nodded. “You laugh just as loud as you want, Stevie. No one’s going to hear you.”
“BWAAAHAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA!!!” Steve howled. His face was already turning pink. “AAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!”
“I don’t know how long it’s going to take to tickle your inhibitions away,” Michael said. “It could take HOURS, Stevie. But that’s all right. I’m willing to work on our relationship—and you have no CHOICE!”
“EEEEYAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!” Steve screamed as the feathers probed his armpits. Gooseflesh roughened his skin, making the dark hairs on his arms and legs stand up straight. And that wasn’t all that was standing up straight, either. Somehow, despite the torture to which he was being subjected by his ruthless roomie, Steve’s cock had become rigid with excitement!
The traitorous behavior of his joystick was Steve’s first intimation that Michael’s plan might actually work. Why had he broken off their arrangement in the first place? Because he was no longer interested? Or because he was becoming TOO interested. . .?
“OH-NO!!! OH-HO!!! OH-HO-HO-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO!!!” he bellowed, as much in denial of that frightening thought as in reaction to Michael’s excruciating ministrations. “PLEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEESE!!!”
“That’s right,” Michael nodded. “You’re getting all EXCITED, aren’t you? That’s because you LIKE it. You like it a LOT.”
In point of fact, Steve HATED the horribly lewd sensations that gripped his body—hared them yet LOVED them. His guts felt all loose and greasy. His balls were tense with excitement. A tiny clear drop of pre-cum winked at the tip of his yearning cock. At that moment, he would have sold his soul to Satan if only the feathers would dip down to caress his balls and his quivering shaft. But instead, the unbearable tickling torment went on and relentlessly on!
“I see no reason to make it easy on you,” Michael explained as he swept the feathers up and down his shrieking victim’s sides. “You need to be taught a LESSON, Stevie.”
“HIIIEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-HEEE- HIIIEEE!!!” Steve howled. “EEEE-HEEE!!! EEEE-HEEE!!! EEEE-HEEE-HEEE-EEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE!!!”
He writhed, squirmed, wiggled, sweated and screamed for many more minutes until Michael finally decided to grant him a short respite. As Steve lay trembling and gasping for air, his randy roomie leaned forward and smiled down at him.
“I bet that at this point you’d really like to cum, wouldn’t you?” Michael chuckled. “Well, Stevie, if you’re a good little boy I might just let you. Eventually.”
“Michael. . .please. . .” Steve moaned. “I’ll do anything. . .anything you say. . .but PLEASE!”
“Anything?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose you would after what I’ve just put you through. Being tickled and tickled and TICKLED until you’re tickled SILLY tends to do that.”
“You were right about me!” Steve cried. “I love you! I swear to GOD!”
“Ah, Stevie.” Michael ran his fingers through his victim’s dark chest hair. “If only I could be sure of that.”
“You have to BELIEVE me!” Steve insisted. But Michael shook his head.
“Actually,” he said, “I don’t HAVE to do anything. I mean, think about it, Stevie. I have you all naked and tied down and it’s still snowing outside and no one’s going to disturb us. So let’s say that I decide to tickle you some more. Who’s going to stop me?”
“Oh, no!” Steve screamed. “Omygod NO!”
He made a desperate, foredoomed effort to wiggle out of his bonds. Already his skin was crawling with terror at the thought of more tickle torture. And yet—and yet there was also something deliciously sexy about this situation. It gave him a rush to have Michael kneeling naked between his wide-open legs. He couldn’t help but recall the pleasures of their past trysts. He couldn’t help longing to feel the feathers’ caress on his BALLS and on his COCK—!
But Michael said, “How about your feet? Are they ticklish too?” And with that, he rolled to the floor, knelt at the foot of the bed and began to stroke Steve’s defenseless bare soles!
“BWAAAHAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!” Steve bellowed. His naked, sweat-covered body writhed madly as intense ticklish thrills shot up the backs of his legs. His belly convulsed with the effort of forcing out scream after scream of insane, anguished laughter. “HAAA-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!! AAAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA!!! AAAH-HAAA- HAAA-AAAAH-HAAA-HAAA!!!”
Michael was using brushes of some kind to torment his prisoner’s wiggling feet. Probably toothbrushes, a small still voice whispered inside Steve’s head. It was odd how in the middle of this fit of shrieking hysterics, his brain was still capable of formulating the occasional coherent thought. But then another ticklish jolt shot up his legs to tighten his asshole and loosen his guts, and Steve forgot all about toothbrushes.
Even when Steve’s laughter faded to a dry, desperate wheeze and his struggles dwindled to a feeble shiver, Michael took no pity on his victim. He paused only long enough to find a feather, resume his previous position on the bed and dip that feather down between his helpless roomie’s thighs to stroke his pulsing balls!
“GAAAAAAHAAAAAA-AAAH-HAAA-HAAA-HAAA!!!” Steve shrieked. He arched his back and wiggled his hips, desperately inviting the feather’s tormenting caress. The head of his cock, now thoroughly lubricated with pre-cum, seemed to swell. He felt as if the feather was tickling his actual INSIDES and it was driving him of his fucking MIND! Steve knew that only one thing could save him from tumbling headlong into a bottomless pit of total insanity. He had to CUM! He had to cum right NOW!
But Michael wouldn’t LET him cum! Michael was careful with the feather. When he thought that Steve was getting too close, he drew back for a moment, stroking his own rigid rod as he watched his victim squirm and beg for release. From time to time, he transferred his attentions back to Steve’s ribs and armpits. But always, with an avid smile, he would return to his primary target. And gradually, he allowed the feather to stray from Steve’s balls to the delicate underside of his high-angled cock.
Steve made many promises during that final phase of his training. He told himself that he was saying these things simply in order to make Michael stop torturing him. But deep down inside, he knew better. Steve was promising to be Michael’s docile sex poodle because he LOVED being tortured by tickling. Soon Michael would make him cum, and then the torture would end, but Steve would do ANYTHING to earn another such punishment.
Meanwhile, a lustful, totally MAGNIFICENT sensation was building and BUILDING in his balls. He was close now, he was so VERY close, and the feather was teasing the slick tip of his joystick. Steve’s body went rigid, then he trembled all over, then he arched his back again—and then he was cumming his stupid fucking BRAINS out!
“UUUUNNNNGGGGHHHH!!!” Steve grunted as he squirted all over himself. “UGH!!! UGH!!! UGH!!! UUUUGGGGHHHH!!!!”
Waves of pure orgasmic pleasure swept over him, washing away all thought. Steve could focus only on the bittersweet, ecstatic kiss of the feather. He cried out in a voice made faint and throaty by a joyous pain. Beyond fear and humiliation now, stripped at last of his inhibitions, Steve surrendered to his fate.
Michael continued to stroke with the feather until he was certain that Steve had completely emptied his balls. Then he leaned forward and with a lewd grin, whispered, “My turn, Steve.”
It showed all night and most of the next day, so Steve had plenty of time to make good on his many promises to the demanding Michael.
