Another addition to my ongoing M/M series. Hope you enjoy.
“BWAAAAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA!!!” Marty screamed. He writhed to and fro in a frantic but futile attempt to dodge the stiff, pointed feathers that were stroking his slender, naked body. “EEEEYAAAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA!!!”
His high-pitched, girlish laughter rebounded from the stark concrete walls of the basement chamber to which his captors had dragged him. At first he had harbored the hope that someone would hear him. But after laughing at the top of his lungs for a solid half-hour, he was despairingly certain that no one would be coming to rescue him. So with what little breath he could spare, Marty begged for mercy.
His torturers paid no attention to his pleas. Steadily, maddeningly, they caressed him with their feathers. There were three of them, all male, all naked except for hooded masks that effectively concealed their identities. One was behind him, stroking his buttocks and the backs of his legs. The other two had stationed themselves on either side of him, and they were stroking his sides from armpits to hips.
Marty was well positioned to be tortured in this manner. He was poised on his toes, legs widely parted, ankles bound to a pair of iron rings set firmly into the concrete floor. His arms were hoisted high over his head, wrists bound together and secured to a hook fixed in the ceiling. He felt horribly helpless and exposed, a sensation that seemed to redouble the intensity of the ticklish thrills that were shooting through his convulsing body.
“EEEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE!!!” Marty shrieked. His legs quivered as one feather stroked them from behind. “GAAAAHAAAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” he howled. His belly convulsed as two feathers danced in his hollows and swept down his aching sides. “OH-HO-HO-HO!!! OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-HO!!! OH-HO!!! OH-HO!!! OH-HO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO!!!”
Who WERE they? Why were they DOING this to him? Marty had no idea—and at the moment, he was too busy laughing his fucking HEAD off to devote any thought to the matter. All he knew was that they had grabbed him in the parking garage, hustled him into an elevator, and brought him to this terrible chamber deep in the bowels of the Sunshine Building.
Perhaps they were after secret information of some kind. Sunshine Corporation was a gigantic company, with fingers in many pies. But Marty was a PR assistant, not a senior executive. He knew no secrets. And even if he had, his captors weren’t asking any questions. They seemed content to make him laugh.
‘GAAAAHAAAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!” he howled. “HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!”
Perhaps understandably, Marty had not at first registered the fact that except for their masks, his tormenters were just as naked as he was. It was some time before he noticed this detail, and even then the implications were slow to sink in. It was hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds while those horrific FEATHERS were gliding up and down his defenseless legs and torso!
“EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEE!!!” Marty bellowed. “EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE!!! EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE!!!”
His face was bright pink and his squirming body was covered with a delicate sweat. He danced on his toes, squirming and wiggling in a way that made his dangling balls jiggle and bounce between his wide-open thighs. More than anything, Marty feared that the feather now caressing the backs of his legs would soon sweep up to stroke that most vulnerable portion of his captive anatomy. He was convinced that if that happened, he’d go stark raving MAD—!
But in the end, it might not matter. The torments to which he was actually being subjected were terrible enough. Marty was trembling on the verge, if not of true madness, then of a full-blown fit of hysteria. He could feel it coming on, like a sneeze that might be delayed, but not defeated.
“EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!” Marty screamed. “EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
And it was at that precise moment that he noticed something that momentarily distracted him from the excruciating tortures of tickling—one of his tormenters had an erection!
It was the bastard on his left, the dark-haired muscular tickler, who with one hand was stroking Marty’s armpit while with the other he stroked his own rigid cock! Marty jerked his head to the right and found that the tickler on that side was similarly employed. He too was dark-haired, but like Marty he was smooth-skinned and slender.
Though it was impossible to see behind him, Marty had little doubt that his third captor was also busy with his free hand. The thought made his asshole tighten. What the FUCK was going on?!
Now, it should be noted at this point that poor Marty wasn’t at all gay. True, he might possibly have been described as “bi curious.” His late-night masturbation fantasies still sometimes focused on his former college roommate, to whom he’d been vaguely attracted. Nothing had come of it, of course, and in the years since, Marty had developed a thoroughly healthy interest in girls. And whatever his quirks, they most definitely did NOT include having the living SHIT tickled out of him by three fucking PERVERTS—!
‘OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO!!!” Marty protested as the full implications of his situation crashed in upon him. ‘OH-NO!!! OH-HO!!! OH-NO-HO-OH-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!”
He wanted to scream that they couldn’t DO this to him—that he wasn’t that WAY—that the whole crazy thing was IMPOSSBLE—but he was laughing too fucking HARD. And his skin was crawling with gooseflesh. And his guts felt hot and loose. And his BALLS were SWAYING between his trembling THIGHS—!
“AAAAH-AAAAH-AAAAAAAAH!!!” Marty cried. “AAAAAAAAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!”
He tried his best to fight down the urgent, sexy sensations that were coursing through his loins, but it was no good. Slowly but remorselessly, his balls tightened and his cock rose. Marty had never felt so humiliated in his life. Here he was, naked, helpless, fully aroused and longing desperately to be tickled to orgasm! He wiggled his hips, inviting his tormenters to caress the most sensitive spots of his anatomy.
The muscular tickler on the left was the first to accept that invitation. He swept his feather down to tease Marty’s straining shaft. A moment later, the slender tickler on the right followed suit. And finally, the unseen tickler behind him began to stroke Marty’s throbbing balls!
In response to this devilishly erotic assault, Marty started up on his toes, writhed like a weasel in heat, and did his very best to turn himself inside out. His hips jerked back and forth, whether to escape the tormenting feathers or to welcome their caress even Marty wasn’t sure. All he knew for certain was that his three captors were driving him absolutely BUGFUCK and if they didn’t let him CUM he’d go fucking CRAZY—!
But they WOULDN’T let him cum—they seemed to be able to sense when he was getting close, and then they would shift their attention to his belly, thighs and behind. Worst of all was when the one in back probed the sensitive cleft between Marty’s butt cheeks. The maddening sensation produced by this unthinkable violation seemed to rocket right to the core of his being, igniting desires that loosened his muscles and made his skin crawl with humiliation.
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO!!!” Marty screamed. He finally understood what was REALLY happening to him. “PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEEEESE!!!”
“I think he’s ready now,” someone said.
And the tickling stopped.
Marty hung limply, gasping for breath and weeping with humiliation. “Our job,” the same voice intoned, “is to identify people like you, and put them in touch with their true feelings. We know what you are and what you want. Before this night is over you’ll know it too.”
“What do you MEAN?!” Marty cried. “I don’t UNDERSTAND!”
“We’ll help you to understand.” The voice sank to a whisper. “In fact, I think you’re beginning to understand already—aren’t you?”
“But I’m not LIKE that!” Marty insisted. “I SWEAR I’m not!”
“Really? Then explain this.” Briefly, maddeningly, a feather stroked the underside of Marty’s stiff, quivering shaft. “Tell the truth, now. There was someone, once upon a time, wasn’t there?”
“No! NO!”
“They always deny at first. But in the end, they always confess.” The voice—which, Marty realized, belonged to the muscular tickler—held a note of amusement. “They wiggle and squirm and dance and sweat and squeal for us to stop. But the truth is, they LOVE what we do to them. Just as you do.”
“But why?” Marty sobbed. “Why are you DOING this to me?”
“We just want the facts. The bare facts.”
Marty’s body tensed in dread anticipation of a resumption of the horrific torture. He prayed that his captors would be quick to grant him the blessed release that he so desperately craved. But he knew that they’d show him no mercy unless he confessed. And he had no doubt that eventually, inevitably, they would tickle the shameful truth out of him.
The thought of it made his joystick throb.
When it began, the tickling was almost a relief. Once again they concentrated on his armpits, sides, and the backs of his legs. “GAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” Marty squealed. “AAAH-HAA!!! AAH-HAA!!! AAH-HAA!!! AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!”
He undulated his hips in the futile hope that one of the tormenting feathers would stray to his yearning shaft. He knew—he fucking KNEW—that a single stroke would cause him to cum his stupid BRAINS out! And they seemed to know it too, because they were very careful to avoid permitting him the merciful release he so desperately craved.
Instead, the muscular tickler continued to whisper his terrible questions. Who was it that Marty had lusted after? What had he looked like? Had they ever actually done anything together? “You can tell us,” the whispering voice assured him. “We’ll understand.”
And eventually, after many minutes of shrieking, sweating, writhing hysteria, with a tiny bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip of his cock and a crazed sensation gripping his aching balls, Marty gasped out his confession. It seemed to take a long, long time. Whenever he faltered, a hard slap on the behind urged him onward. Toward the end, a feather began to caress his puckered orifice. This made him tremble.
Then it was finished. There was nothing more to tell them. He could only hope and pray that now, at last, his tormenters would take pity on him.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” the muscular tickler snickered. “Your old roomie would be proud of you.”
There was quiet laughter.
“What. . .what are you going to do to me now?” Marty’s voice quavered. “Are you going to let me go?”
“Let you go?” The muscular tickler shrugged. “Gee, I don’t know. How about it, Chris? Should we let our little playmate go? Or should we play with him some more?”
Marty jumped in his bonds. Chris? Had the muscular tickler said CHRIS? But that couldn’t be! It COULDN’T be! Not Chris! Not—!
“That’s right, Marty,” said a very familiar voice. “It’s me. Think of this as an unofficial college reunion. It has been five years, you know.”
“Well,” said the muscular tickler, “I guess we’ll be on our way, Chris. You two probably have a lot of catching up to do,” he added as he closed the door.
“That’s for sure,” Chris agreed. He came around from behind, stark naked, unmasked and conspicuously erect. His body was still smooth-skinned and boyishly slender, much like Marty’s own.
Chris ran a hand through his dark hair. Her looked Marty up and down, and shook his head. “I waited two years for you to break down and admit it to yourself,” he said. “But you never did, Marty. And I thought I’d never see you again. But then I landed a job with the Sunshine Corporation—and guess who turned out to work in Public Relations? My old roomie from college.”
“You WORK here?!” Marty cried. “But I never KNEW!”
“I didn’t want you to know. Not at first.” Chris sighed. “It was a painful memory, Marty, the way you teased me in college. Oh, I know you didn’t mean to, but that didn’t make me feel any better. This is a big company, and it wasn’t hard to avoid you. But I couldn’t forget about you. Then I made some friends here—some special friends, if you follow me. And we got to talking about you, and one thing led to another, and now here we are.”
“You’re CRAZY!” Marty yelled. “It’s KIDNAPPING! They’ll ARREST you!”
“Not unless you tell,” Chris pointed out. “And you’re not going to tell. Are you?”
He brandished his feather. Marty cringed.
“You’re not the only one who had fantasies, sweet cheeks.” Chris licked his lips. “You have no IDEA how often I’ve dreamed of having you at my mercy like this. I just KNEW you’d HATE it and ADORE it if I took a feather and TICKLED your naked BODY until you begged me for MERCY!”
And with that, Chris thrust the feather between his captive’s wide-open thighs!
He was careful, however, to avoid bringing poor Marty to climax. Instead, he concentrated his fiendish assault on his ex-roomie’s balls. So near and yet so far! Marty writhed and wiggled in hilarious, erotic torment as intense ticklish sensations raced through his nervous system. His belly convulsed with the effort it cost him to laugh. The muscles of his thighs and buttocks quivered. His skin crawled. The very marrow in his bones trembled with a horrid desire.
“And now that I have you where I WANT you, sweet cheeks, I’m not ABOUT to let you go so soon.” Chris allowed the feather to slide teasingly, just for an instant, along the underside of Marty’s rigid shaft. “And besides, I think you LIKE it when I’m MEAN to you. You don’t REALLY want to cum, do you? You just want to be tickled and tickled and TICKLED, don’t you?”
“PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HIIEE-HEE-HEEEESE!!!” Marty shrieked. “IT TICK-HICK-EEE-HICK-EEE-HEE-HEE-HICK-HICKLES!!!”
“I know,” Chris agreed. “And you just can’t get ENOUGH, can you, sweet cheeks?”
Marty’s answer was a howl that rebounded from the bare walls of the room. He knew that no one could hear him. He was trapped—trapped for as long as Chris cared to hold him prisoner.
By now the head of Marty’s cock was well lubricated with pre-cum. Noticing this, Chris snickered. “Better not cum without permission,” he said. “If you make a MESS, you’ll have to be PUNISHED.”
Marty moaned and rotated his hips. He was SO fucking CLOSE—!
With an evil grin, Chris began to stroke his captive’s rigid rod with the feather. “Remember,” he said teasingly, “I haven’t given you permission, sweet cheeks.”
“UGH!!!” Marty gasped. “UGH!!! UGH!!! UGH-UGH-UUUUGH!!!”
A delicious, absolutely GLORIOUS sensation was tightening its grip on his balls, his belly and his puckered orifice. He arched his and thrust his hips forward to meet the feather that Chris was wielding with such sadistic glee.
“Better not CUM,” his tormenter warned.
But poor Marty as past caring about warnings or tickle torture or anything in the universe except the desperate necessity of achieving the blessed, sweet release on whose very edge he trembled. Two more strokes of the feather—one more stroke—!
Then it hit!
“UNNNNNNGH!!!” he cried as with a spasm of celestial ecstasy, his balls began to empty themselves. Grunting, sweating, weeping with joy and humiliation, he squirted halfway across the room. Nothing mattered now—nothing but the incredible pleasure of the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced.
It took many powerful spurts to drain his balls, but eventually Marty sagged in his bonds, exhausted by his ordeal, weeping with shame and relief, wondering what would happen next.
“You made a mess, sweet cheeks.” Marty’s voice was rueful. “Did I give you permission to cum? Did I?”
Marty had no answer.
“Well, now you’ll have to be punished.” Marty sighed. “But not here. I think I’ll take you to my place. Would you like that?” When Marty didn’t answer, Chris gave him a hard slap on the behind. “I asked you a question, sweet cheeks. Would you like to go to my place?”
“Yes,” Marty whispered. “Oh, yes!”
“And would you like to be tickled some more? A lot more?”
“Yes. Please!”
“But this time,” said Chris as he set about releasing Marty from his bonds, “you don’t get to cum until I cum. Three or four times.”
“I can live with that,” Marty whispered.
“BWAAAAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA!!!” Marty screamed. He writhed to and fro in a frantic but futile attempt to dodge the stiff, pointed feathers that were stroking his slender, naked body. “EEEEYAAAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA!!!”
His high-pitched, girlish laughter rebounded from the stark concrete walls of the basement chamber to which his captors had dragged him. At first he had harbored the hope that someone would hear him. But after laughing at the top of his lungs for a solid half-hour, he was despairingly certain that no one would be coming to rescue him. So with what little breath he could spare, Marty begged for mercy.
His torturers paid no attention to his pleas. Steadily, maddeningly, they caressed him with their feathers. There were three of them, all male, all naked except for hooded masks that effectively concealed their identities. One was behind him, stroking his buttocks and the backs of his legs. The other two had stationed themselves on either side of him, and they were stroking his sides from armpits to hips.
Marty was well positioned to be tortured in this manner. He was poised on his toes, legs widely parted, ankles bound to a pair of iron rings set firmly into the concrete floor. His arms were hoisted high over his head, wrists bound together and secured to a hook fixed in the ceiling. He felt horribly helpless and exposed, a sensation that seemed to redouble the intensity of the ticklish thrills that were shooting through his convulsing body.
“EEEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE!!!” Marty shrieked. His legs quivered as one feather stroked them from behind. “GAAAAHAAAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” he howled. His belly convulsed as two feathers danced in his hollows and swept down his aching sides. “OH-HO-HO-HO!!! OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-HO!!! OH-HO!!! OH-HO!!! OH-HO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO!!!”
Who WERE they? Why were they DOING this to him? Marty had no idea—and at the moment, he was too busy laughing his fucking HEAD off to devote any thought to the matter. All he knew was that they had grabbed him in the parking garage, hustled him into an elevator, and brought him to this terrible chamber deep in the bowels of the Sunshine Building.
Perhaps they were after secret information of some kind. Sunshine Corporation was a gigantic company, with fingers in many pies. But Marty was a PR assistant, not a senior executive. He knew no secrets. And even if he had, his captors weren’t asking any questions. They seemed content to make him laugh.
‘GAAAAHAAAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!” he howled. “HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!”
Perhaps understandably, Marty had not at first registered the fact that except for their masks, his tormenters were just as naked as he was. It was some time before he noticed this detail, and even then the implications were slow to sink in. It was hard to concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds while those horrific FEATHERS were gliding up and down his defenseless legs and torso!
“EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEE!!!” Marty bellowed. “EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE!!! EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE!!!”
His face was bright pink and his squirming body was covered with a delicate sweat. He danced on his toes, squirming and wiggling in a way that made his dangling balls jiggle and bounce between his wide-open thighs. More than anything, Marty feared that the feather now caressing the backs of his legs would soon sweep up to stroke that most vulnerable portion of his captive anatomy. He was convinced that if that happened, he’d go stark raving MAD—!
But in the end, it might not matter. The torments to which he was actually being subjected were terrible enough. Marty was trembling on the verge, if not of true madness, then of a full-blown fit of hysteria. He could feel it coming on, like a sneeze that might be delayed, but not defeated.
“EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!” Marty screamed. “EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
And it was at that precise moment that he noticed something that momentarily distracted him from the excruciating tortures of tickling—one of his tormenters had an erection!
It was the bastard on his left, the dark-haired muscular tickler, who with one hand was stroking Marty’s armpit while with the other he stroked his own rigid cock! Marty jerked his head to the right and found that the tickler on that side was similarly employed. He too was dark-haired, but like Marty he was smooth-skinned and slender.
Though it was impossible to see behind him, Marty had little doubt that his third captor was also busy with his free hand. The thought made his asshole tighten. What the FUCK was going on?!
Now, it should be noted at this point that poor Marty wasn’t at all gay. True, he might possibly have been described as “bi curious.” His late-night masturbation fantasies still sometimes focused on his former college roommate, to whom he’d been vaguely attracted. Nothing had come of it, of course, and in the years since, Marty had developed a thoroughly healthy interest in girls. And whatever his quirks, they most definitely did NOT include having the living SHIT tickled out of him by three fucking PERVERTS—!
‘OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO!!!” Marty protested as the full implications of his situation crashed in upon him. ‘OH-NO!!! OH-HO!!! OH-NO-HO-OH-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!”
He wanted to scream that they couldn’t DO this to him—that he wasn’t that WAY—that the whole crazy thing was IMPOSSBLE—but he was laughing too fucking HARD. And his skin was crawling with gooseflesh. And his guts felt hot and loose. And his BALLS were SWAYING between his trembling THIGHS—!
“AAAAH-AAAAH-AAAAAAAAH!!!” Marty cried. “AAAAAAAAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!”
He tried his best to fight down the urgent, sexy sensations that were coursing through his loins, but it was no good. Slowly but remorselessly, his balls tightened and his cock rose. Marty had never felt so humiliated in his life. Here he was, naked, helpless, fully aroused and longing desperately to be tickled to orgasm! He wiggled his hips, inviting his tormenters to caress the most sensitive spots of his anatomy.
The muscular tickler on the left was the first to accept that invitation. He swept his feather down to tease Marty’s straining shaft. A moment later, the slender tickler on the right followed suit. And finally, the unseen tickler behind him began to stroke Marty’s throbbing balls!
In response to this devilishly erotic assault, Marty started up on his toes, writhed like a weasel in heat, and did his very best to turn himself inside out. His hips jerked back and forth, whether to escape the tormenting feathers or to welcome their caress even Marty wasn’t sure. All he knew for certain was that his three captors were driving him absolutely BUGFUCK and if they didn’t let him CUM he’d go fucking CRAZY—!
But they WOULDN’T let him cum—they seemed to be able to sense when he was getting close, and then they would shift their attention to his belly, thighs and behind. Worst of all was when the one in back probed the sensitive cleft between Marty’s butt cheeks. The maddening sensation produced by this unthinkable violation seemed to rocket right to the core of his being, igniting desires that loosened his muscles and made his skin crawl with humiliation.
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO!!!” Marty screamed. He finally understood what was REALLY happening to him. “PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEEEESE!!!”
“I think he’s ready now,” someone said.
And the tickling stopped.
Marty hung limply, gasping for breath and weeping with humiliation. “Our job,” the same voice intoned, “is to identify people like you, and put them in touch with their true feelings. We know what you are and what you want. Before this night is over you’ll know it too.”
“What do you MEAN?!” Marty cried. “I don’t UNDERSTAND!”
“We’ll help you to understand.” The voice sank to a whisper. “In fact, I think you’re beginning to understand already—aren’t you?”
“But I’m not LIKE that!” Marty insisted. “I SWEAR I’m not!”
“Really? Then explain this.” Briefly, maddeningly, a feather stroked the underside of Marty’s stiff, quivering shaft. “Tell the truth, now. There was someone, once upon a time, wasn’t there?”
“No! NO!”
“They always deny at first. But in the end, they always confess.” The voice—which, Marty realized, belonged to the muscular tickler—held a note of amusement. “They wiggle and squirm and dance and sweat and squeal for us to stop. But the truth is, they LOVE what we do to them. Just as you do.”
“But why?” Marty sobbed. “Why are you DOING this to me?”
“We just want the facts. The bare facts.”
Marty’s body tensed in dread anticipation of a resumption of the horrific torture. He prayed that his captors would be quick to grant him the blessed release that he so desperately craved. But he knew that they’d show him no mercy unless he confessed. And he had no doubt that eventually, inevitably, they would tickle the shameful truth out of him.
The thought of it made his joystick throb.
When it began, the tickling was almost a relief. Once again they concentrated on his armpits, sides, and the backs of his legs. “GAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” Marty squealed. “AAAH-HAA!!! AAH-HAA!!! AAH-HAA!!! AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!”
He undulated his hips in the futile hope that one of the tormenting feathers would stray to his yearning shaft. He knew—he fucking KNEW—that a single stroke would cause him to cum his stupid BRAINS out! And they seemed to know it too, because they were very careful to avoid permitting him the merciful release he so desperately craved.
Instead, the muscular tickler continued to whisper his terrible questions. Who was it that Marty had lusted after? What had he looked like? Had they ever actually done anything together? “You can tell us,” the whispering voice assured him. “We’ll understand.”
And eventually, after many minutes of shrieking, sweating, writhing hysteria, with a tiny bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip of his cock and a crazed sensation gripping his aching balls, Marty gasped out his confession. It seemed to take a long, long time. Whenever he faltered, a hard slap on the behind urged him onward. Toward the end, a feather began to caress his puckered orifice. This made him tremble.
Then it was finished. There was nothing more to tell them. He could only hope and pray that now, at last, his tormenters would take pity on him.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” the muscular tickler snickered. “Your old roomie would be proud of you.”
There was quiet laughter.
“What. . .what are you going to do to me now?” Marty’s voice quavered. “Are you going to let me go?”
“Let you go?” The muscular tickler shrugged. “Gee, I don’t know. How about it, Chris? Should we let our little playmate go? Or should we play with him some more?”
Marty jumped in his bonds. Chris? Had the muscular tickler said CHRIS? But that couldn’t be! It COULDN’T be! Not Chris! Not—!
“That’s right, Marty,” said a very familiar voice. “It’s me. Think of this as an unofficial college reunion. It has been five years, you know.”
“Well,” said the muscular tickler, “I guess we’ll be on our way, Chris. You two probably have a lot of catching up to do,” he added as he closed the door.
“That’s for sure,” Chris agreed. He came around from behind, stark naked, unmasked and conspicuously erect. His body was still smooth-skinned and boyishly slender, much like Marty’s own.
Chris ran a hand through his dark hair. Her looked Marty up and down, and shook his head. “I waited two years for you to break down and admit it to yourself,” he said. “But you never did, Marty. And I thought I’d never see you again. But then I landed a job with the Sunshine Corporation—and guess who turned out to work in Public Relations? My old roomie from college.”
“You WORK here?!” Marty cried. “But I never KNEW!”
“I didn’t want you to know. Not at first.” Chris sighed. “It was a painful memory, Marty, the way you teased me in college. Oh, I know you didn’t mean to, but that didn’t make me feel any better. This is a big company, and it wasn’t hard to avoid you. But I couldn’t forget about you. Then I made some friends here—some special friends, if you follow me. And we got to talking about you, and one thing led to another, and now here we are.”
“You’re CRAZY!” Marty yelled. “It’s KIDNAPPING! They’ll ARREST you!”
“Not unless you tell,” Chris pointed out. “And you’re not going to tell. Are you?”
He brandished his feather. Marty cringed.
“You’re not the only one who had fantasies, sweet cheeks.” Chris licked his lips. “You have no IDEA how often I’ve dreamed of having you at my mercy like this. I just KNEW you’d HATE it and ADORE it if I took a feather and TICKLED your naked BODY until you begged me for MERCY!”
And with that, Chris thrust the feather between his captive’s wide-open thighs!
He was careful, however, to avoid bringing poor Marty to climax. Instead, he concentrated his fiendish assault on his ex-roomie’s balls. So near and yet so far! Marty writhed and wiggled in hilarious, erotic torment as intense ticklish sensations raced through his nervous system. His belly convulsed with the effort it cost him to laugh. The muscles of his thighs and buttocks quivered. His skin crawled. The very marrow in his bones trembled with a horrid desire.
“And now that I have you where I WANT you, sweet cheeks, I’m not ABOUT to let you go so soon.” Chris allowed the feather to slide teasingly, just for an instant, along the underside of Marty’s rigid shaft. “And besides, I think you LIKE it when I’m MEAN to you. You don’t REALLY want to cum, do you? You just want to be tickled and tickled and TICKLED, don’t you?”
“PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HIIEE-HEE-HEEEESE!!!” Marty shrieked. “IT TICK-HICK-EEE-HICK-EEE-HEE-HEE-HICK-HICKLES!!!”
“I know,” Chris agreed. “And you just can’t get ENOUGH, can you, sweet cheeks?”
Marty’s answer was a howl that rebounded from the bare walls of the room. He knew that no one could hear him. He was trapped—trapped for as long as Chris cared to hold him prisoner.
By now the head of Marty’s cock was well lubricated with pre-cum. Noticing this, Chris snickered. “Better not cum without permission,” he said. “If you make a MESS, you’ll have to be PUNISHED.”
Marty moaned and rotated his hips. He was SO fucking CLOSE—!
With an evil grin, Chris began to stroke his captive’s rigid rod with the feather. “Remember,” he said teasingly, “I haven’t given you permission, sweet cheeks.”
“UGH!!!” Marty gasped. “UGH!!! UGH!!! UGH-UGH-UUUUGH!!!”
A delicious, absolutely GLORIOUS sensation was tightening its grip on his balls, his belly and his puckered orifice. He arched his and thrust his hips forward to meet the feather that Chris was wielding with such sadistic glee.
“Better not CUM,” his tormenter warned.
But poor Marty as past caring about warnings or tickle torture or anything in the universe except the desperate necessity of achieving the blessed, sweet release on whose very edge he trembled. Two more strokes of the feather—one more stroke—!
Then it hit!
“UNNNNNNGH!!!” he cried as with a spasm of celestial ecstasy, his balls began to empty themselves. Grunting, sweating, weeping with joy and humiliation, he squirted halfway across the room. Nothing mattered now—nothing but the incredible pleasure of the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced.
It took many powerful spurts to drain his balls, but eventually Marty sagged in his bonds, exhausted by his ordeal, weeping with shame and relief, wondering what would happen next.
“You made a mess, sweet cheeks.” Marty’s voice was rueful. “Did I give you permission to cum? Did I?”
Marty had no answer.
“Well, now you’ll have to be punished.” Marty sighed. “But not here. I think I’ll take you to my place. Would you like that?” When Marty didn’t answer, Chris gave him a hard slap on the behind. “I asked you a question, sweet cheeks. Would you like to go to my place?”
“Yes,” Marty whispered. “Oh, yes!”
“And would you like to be tickled some more? A lot more?”
“Yes. Please!”
“But this time,” said Chris as he set about releasing Marty from his bonds, “you don’t get to cum until I cum. Three or four times.”
“I can live with that,” Marty whispered.
