Jerry67911
2nd Level Green Feather
- Joined
- Apr 19, 2001
- Messages
- 4,380
- Points
- 38
I found this at a long hair fetish site but it has lots of tickling too. It's F/m dom/sub, and sexually explicit so you're warned. The author went by GRP.
I finally made up my mind to go through with it. For years, I had fantasized and was curious what it would actually be like. I had these curiosities since childhood and they eventually developed into fetishes. However, sometimes I would step away from myself and wonder “Why on earth do I so desperately want to be Tickle Tortured?”.
By surfing the Internet, I learned of the BDSM scene from the privacy of my own den. Eventually, I got the nerve to contact a Dominatrix who operated within reasonable driving distance from me. I exchanged information with her and followed instructions to make an appointment only when I was comfortably ready to do so. The day came and I made arrangements to visit her.
Arriving at the designated place, I walked up the steps to the front door. Mistress Beth carefully opened the door as she kept most of herself out of view to the outside. I was greeted with warm smile and a compliment on my punctuality and was granted permission to enter.
Ms Beth led me to a sitting room where I was free to relax and discuss my interests and the session in more detail with her. She was attired based on my previous correspondences. It was slightly beyond acceptable for an office setting. She was wearing a white silk blouse, a black skirt, nylon stockings and pumps. She sat directly across from me with her legs crossed. Her skirt had a long slit that assisted in showing off her legs. She was reviewing the questionnaire I previously filled out online. My butterflies were still there, however just seeing her sitting in that attire was quite erotic and tickled the fancy of my other fetishes.
“So tell me briefly about your interest in being tickled?” was her most pointed question. Since she could tell I was nervous and realized this was my first time to ever be subjected to it. Ms Beth made it a point to re-assure me that she is very experienced and will not to go beyond my limits, although she may push those limits to the extreme. She was very professional and demonstrated a sincere pleasantness and eventually my nerves settled down. She continued to inquire about my fantasies and fetishes in some detail.
She smiled coyly when I told her how beautiful her long red hair was.
It was soon time for part 1 of the session. I was led to a well-lit room that had several long candles burning for extra ambiance and fragrance. A large bed sat in the center of the room. There were large mirrors hanging on all four walls. I was instructed to strip and lie on my back on the bed. She left the room to change, and she said that as soon as she got back my session would begin!
After a few minutes, I heard the clicking of her heels approaching. Ms Beth must have switched on a stereo in the dungeon. I didn’t recognize the music. To put it simply, it sounded kind of creepy. As she opened the door, Mistress Beth said, “Let’s kill these lights!” She flipped a switch and the room went dark. Only the candlelight remained casting a dim glow throughout the room. As my eyes were adjusting to the change I did notice the tone of Ms Beth’s voice sounded less compassionate and was rather stern.
My head was facing away from the doorway, so I couldn’t see much except for her faint reflection in one of the mirrors. As her heels clicked closer she approached me from the side. She came within view finally and my stomach sank into a state of panic. Mistress Beth’s appearance had completely changed. She was wearing all black lace, a half bra, negligee, garter and even a thin black mask. Most disappointedly, she had also pinned her gorgeous red hair up and even covered it with a black scarf so it was totally hidden from my view. As I focused on her hands, I noticed her blood red fingernails and lipstick. They provided a stark contrasted to her sexy black outfit and smooth white skin. At this point, she began!
Her eyes were piercing through the mask and her blood red lipstick accented a sadistic smirk.
“You are going to quickly realize how much of a mistake you made by letting me tickle torture you like this!” She first rested her hand on my leg just above the knee, lightly squeezed (exposing the first of my numerous ticklish spots to her) a few times and then slowly began dragging her fingernails over my flesh. “…Because, I am going to tickle the living shit out of you! And remember this” as she leaned in close to my face “I’m not going to show you any mercy!”
She next disclosed the specifics of the safe word that didn’t give me any comfort. Ms Beth was going to tickle me for one solid hour. I could use the safe word one time and one time only and she would stop tickling me for one minute. After that, she would resume her tickling and only stop if she felt I was going to come too soon!
She began at my feet! She knew from the interview that I didn’t think my feet were very ticklish. She stared right into my eyes as she propped one hand on the table and lightly stroked the bottom of one foot. The first stoke caused me to twitch but the sensations would not cause me to break into laughter. I closed my eyes and focused on fighting. Every now and then I would open my eyes and see Mistress Beth staring at me. Her sadistic eyes still piercing into my mind. “Perhaps the top of your feet will be more sensitive” as she took her other hand and lightly scratched the top of the same foot.
This produced more intense sensations causing me to flex and move my foot in an effort to avoid her nails. “Ahhh, there’s a tickle spot!” she cooed. I wasn’t laughing as of yet, however I began verbally grunting in frustration at my failure to avoid the tickling. She began more of a verbal torment now. She was calling me her tickle slave.
After getting mixed success from my feet she took both hands and slowly tickled her way up my legs. She worked her way upward slowly, adding to the suspense.
My Mistress was smiling in glee as the effects of her tickling continued. “My Tickle Slave awakens!” She cooed. The slow dragging of her nails continued up my legs. Each inch of skin seemed more sensitive to her touch than the last. I was soon begging her to stop. I was getting what I asked for and this woman was paying no mind to my pleas. I would catch glimpses of myself thrashing about in the surrounding mirrors as well as my evil torturer who obviously was enjoying this! I did not yet utter my safe word, however I kept debating on doing it. Soon I learned that the inside of my thighs were very ticklish. Mistress Beth noticed too, and she lingered there for a very long time. This assault was brutal and I knew I couldn’t take too much more of it. My Mistress was diabolical now, remembering each spot that worked the best and continued stroking relentlessly. ”Tickle, tickle. I’m having so much fun I may never stop” were her only words. She said them in a slow, sensual tone. My body convulsed and jerked from her tickling. Finally I could take no more! And with that, I screamed my SAFEWORD. True to her word, she stopped! As I slowly calmed down, my Mistress continued her humiliation of me…”You barely lasted ten minutes. How on earth are you going to survive a full hour of this? Besides, I’m enjoying this too much, I may grant you a free extension of time. Perhaps two or three hours!” I knew I couldn’t survive being tickled for that long.
I was finding out that I just am too ticklish for this and perhaps I made a big mistake. I was also informed how much my penis is enjoying it as well. It was completely erect through this and was even twitching as I was regaining my composure. “Enjoy what’s left of your minute of rest my poor little tickle slave. It’s about half way over now”. She stepped away from me for a few seconds and removed the scarf and clip to let her long red hair tumble free. “I think I will give you a taste of how excruciating it can be for you to be tickle tortured with my soft hair for awhile!” Walking up closer to me, her sadistic smile reappeared as she said, “Your one minute rest is over!” With that, she began to lightly tickle my face with the ends of her hair. I soon learned how frustrating it was. My Mistress licked her lips as she smiled and enjoyed my frustrations. However, she grew annoyed with my head twisting about and eventually repositioned herself above the head of the bed and held my head still with her left arm. This torture coupled with the aroma of her scented hair added a special intoxication to this part of the session. Eventually, she concluded that my breathing was coming much too easily. She had a remedy for this as well. “You don’t seem to be in too much distress. Would you like your Mistress to smother you with her hair now?” I was begging for some relief from her tickling hair, however, I soon learned that this was just another method for her to add to my torment. She covered my face fully with her hair now and used her right hand to press it firmly over my mouth and nose. It was now becoming very hard for me to get enough oxygen, and she decided to increase my agony by lightly tickling my nipples with the fingers of her other hand. She was able to reach my throbbing penis as well and she stroked me lightly there once every minute or so. She eventually stopped this phase of her torture and laughed at my predicament.
The horror intensified as she retrieved the scarf and tied it over my mouth as a gag. I was told that since I had already used my safe word, my words would be of no importance anymore.
“Your armpits look so inviting. Shall I tickle them next? I was commanded to answer with “Yes Mistress, please tickle me there!” clearly (even through the gag) or she would add even more time to my torture session.
“Shall we try again? Shall I tickle your armpits next?” She commanded. I responded as best I could and with that, her fingernails started a vicious attack on my armpits. It was only a matter of seconds until I was thrashing again. She tickled up my arms and down my sides, sometimes with her fingers and sometimes with her hair for endless variations. Through this part of the session, she required more interactive communications from me while being tickled. I was to answer in a positive mode to questions and statements by her like “You just love it when your Mistress tickles you like this, don’t you?” Naturally, with the gag it was difficult to clearly say what was required. That was an added frustration my Mistress capitalized on and used as a method of punishing me by threatening an even more extended duration of this tickle torture.
Her torture continued on and on. By now, she knew my most sensitive areas and she would be focusing on all of them again and again. She scooted up on the bed a bit so she could easily reach my nipples and my balls and penis whenever she felt like it. Sitting so relaxed, with her legs crossed as her hands played me like a piano, she demonstrated how frustrating it was for her to stop tickling me for a few seconds, only to resume zealously just as I was settling down. Her favorite was to stroke me as near to orgasm as she could by lightly tickling with her fingers, then stop and make me count to 10 before she resumed with the even softer touch of her hair drifting across my throbbing manhood. She did this at least ten times with subtle variations such as wrapping her hair gently around my cock or using her hair to whip me. She repeatedly reminded me that there would be absolutely NO mercy whatsoever. “Oh you poor baby, it doesn’t tickle does it? ” she purred. “You are in so much trouble. You remember how much mercy I have right?”
“Oh yeah, remember I have NONE, absolutely no mercy for you, no matter how much you beg and plead, no matter how bad the torture seems, I will always have more in store for you. You are my tickle slave and I my NEVER let you go. Or cum either for that matter.”
“Oh I’m evil aren’t I, well you just have no idea. We are just getting started.”
She was taking her time knowing that I was lying there thinking about the torture still to come. She would never tire of torturing each and every square inch of my body. The sadistic look on her face told me that she was not kidding.
Beth eyed my erection and noticed it couldn't be any harder. "Well, are you sure you’re not just a little excited? I'll bet you'd love to explode with pleasure right about now. Well, you’re not in charge of that, so I’ll decide when you’re ready and if I feel like granting you your wish myself."
She covered my cock with her hair and at the same time she used long fingernails to tickle my balls. "Tickle, tickle. Would you like to cum my sweet tickle slave? Well, I don’t think so. I’m not going to let you off so easily.”
Next she produced a huge, bushy feather. It was black just like her silky outfit. After she made sure I had had a good look at it, she said, in a very flirty and teasing voice:
"3, 2, 1, GO!" and the feather descended upon me. The sensation was immediate and devastating. One, which I couldn’t stand, but didn’t want to lose either. She had again begun to tickle my balls and shaft, but with the feather this time. At the same time, she had circled her fingers around my cock and was stroking it slowly and methodically. Within seconds, to my horror and surprise, I was fully erect again. Mistress Beth giggled and said, "wow, looks like you enjoy this a lot more than you let on!" I was mortified, as all of my urges were now replaced with a single desire to climax. She began stroking a little harder and a little faster now. Almost there, almost there, and finally - nothing. Mistress Beth stopped stroking, smirked and began to tickle my chest and nipples with her feather again.
"No. NO!" I yelled through the gag. “Please finish me now. I’m begging you. Please let me cum.” She giggled again heartlessly and continued to tickle me. Never before, had I been that close only to be brought crashing down. Mistress Beth kissed me gently on the forehead, and purred teasingly: "Oh, you didn't think I'd let you off that easily, did you?" with an evil smirk, she resumed tickling my underarms.
All thought of orgasm disappeared now, to my utter horror there was only the tickle torture that remained as a constant reminder of my mistake in allowing this Mistress to have her way with me. I was in tickle hell now, and there was no getting out. I felt the familiar sensations on my balls again, but this time the tickling did not stop. I was getting close, so close... I would surely manage it this time...
With a cackle, Mistress Beth squeezed my cock, and let go. I screamed in frustration. This was a whole new experience for me, and I didn’t know how long I could stand it before I went completely insane. Then the tickling stopped.
Mistress had pulled over a chair, and was now towering above me. She sat with her long hair dangling directly above me.
"You know," she said, "I can give you release... If I want to." She giggled again. "You're completely at my mercy now. If you please me with your responses for the next few minutes, I MAY consider it. First, it’s time for me to remove that gag so that I can hear what you have to say."
"So," she purred, sliding a bare hand down the inner curve of my thigh.
"What... are you starting now?" I asked, and suddenly she slapped my face.
"Did I say you could talk yet?"
"No...no mistress..." I replied. She began to slowly drag her hair up and hair down my body. I fought to keep control... to not squirm or beg her... But she kept her long hair rubbing and drifting back and fourth over my sensitive skin, each time faster than the last, each time swirling her mane in a new, more ticklish location. She searched the all curves and crevices of my body, locating every delicious little wellspring of sensation as I wriggled and mewled under her ministrations.
"Having fun?" she cheered, grinning widely. But I knew better than to answer until given permission to speak.
"I know what you need," she said, and the tickling stopped. I caught my breath in a short moment of rest. “You may now begin to answer my questions. But I warn you to do so in a polite and respectful manner and to always tell me the truth.”
"So tell me," she sing-songed, a long pause, feeling like an eternity as I hung on her words. “You like my hair, don’t you?" The thought of it immediately sent shivers all throughout my body.
But I paused before answering. “Huh? Oh, sorry” I laugh nervously. “No, no. I think it’s pretty and all, but I’m really not into that in a sexual way at all!” She is still dangling her hair over me and my eyes keep getting drawn toward those beautiful red tresses.
As she crosses her legs again, she asks, “So how long have you had this hair fetish?”
“I don’t, Mistress Beth, you’re wrong. I really don’t have a hair fetish at all.” My voice trails off as she again begins moving downward, until the full body of her hair dangles just over the top of my again fully erect penis.
“Yes, I think you do,” she says quietly. “If you’ll admit it, I can make you feel really good.
I stare silently, then respond, “No, I think it’s OK but I’m not a hair guy. I’m just horny all the time – that’s why I’m hard. It’s not your hair, really!”
She has begun swinging her hair around and around my erect penis, closing the circle tighter and tighter until it begins to rub around the base of it. My cock twitches at the contact and becomes more engorged. A slight moan escapes my lips. She smiles wickedly and starts swinging her hair back and forth, faster and faster, striking my cock with its full silkiness again and again. My cock twitches more with each successive strike and my head is spinning.
Mistress Beth stops again and runs the entire length of her hair from the base of my penis to the tip and then comes over the top of it. My penis is now covered with her hair and she squeezes me with her fingers. I begin to grind my hips upward as another wave of shivers washes over me. She looks down and smiles at my helplessness. She wiggles her hair back and forth, sweeping against the head of my penis as I start to moan more loudly now. She asks once more “Are you really sure you don’t have a hair fetish? I think you may be in denial.”
“I…oh-hh-h…no, I’m just…oh, man…” babbling as she continues to massage me with her hair. My moans become more insistent and she is enjoying her power over me. She positions her hair over my cock again and shakes her head back and fourth vigorously, making me even crazier with desire.
“You know what? I want to practice more of my hair job technique and, since you don’t realize yet that you have such a strong hair fetish, I figure it’ll be the best way to finish our session. I will make you cum with my hair like you have never cum before. What do you think? Oh, I forgot, it doesn’t really matter what you think. You are my slave and I will do whatever pleases me.” She stops moving her head.
I come to my senses somewhat and answer, “No…no, You won’t be able to make me cum with your hair. I promise,” I gasp and struggle to compose my thoughts. “It feels good and everything, but you can’t make me come with your hair. I’m not into that…really.”
“Great!” she says with a bright smile, “because I want to practice a big hair job finish that lasts for quite a while before I make you explode and I need to perfect this technique thoroughly.” She positions herself comfortably so she has full access to my penis, squeezing it gently between her fingers. She begins to stroke slowly and evenly up and down, and my eyes roll to the back of my head as her ministrations drive me to the edge.
“I’m glad you have that kind of self-control. I mean, if you do come too quickly, before I’ve practiced all my techniques, I’ll have to punish you,” she says.
I can barely hear her and I simply reply, “Huhhhh?”
“If you come right away, I’ll have to punish you. Do you know what I’ll do?”
I just shake my head as I continue writhing in pleasure.
“I’ll keep you here until tomorrow and then I’ll simply begin again. But the next time, I’ll tickle you senseless for two hours instead of one,” she says, deliberately emphasizing each word as she increases the speed and pressure on my throbbing penis. “And then, you will be getting another hair job too.”
I am startled, but too far-gone now to protest. I look at her with pleading eyes, but I can’t so much as utter a single word in response. The sensations are overwhelming and I am already near the breaking point. Now, she stops stroking me and moves up so that her hair is again covering my face. She lowers her head and begins to slap my face with her long hair. Then she lowers her head further and drags the full length of her hair from side to side across my face. It has started tickling my face again, but after a few minutes she uses it to smother me again. At the same time, she says “You like the feel of my hair on your cock, don’t you? It will make you crazy and you won’t admit it’s what you like. You love the deep red color of my hair, don’t you? And what about its sweet scent? You can smell it now, can’t you? But think about what I’m going to do to you later. I’m going to use this sweet beautiful hair to manipulate your cock into a state of frenzy.
Hmmm? Now, remember when I do that not to cum right away or your pits, nipples and cock are going to have to be tickle-tortured for twice as long tomorrow! Don’t think about my hair when it’s all over your cock, stroking you closer and closer to that glorious release. It will feel so good, won’t it? But it’s not quite time for that yet. Let’s do something else first. Let’s see how much my hair can tickle all your other body parts. I’ll probably get pretty close to your sensitive hard on, but remember, you’re not going to cum until I say so. I’m going to start with you feet again, are you ready?”
So on it went for what seemed like an eternity. She visited each and every area of my body excluding for my groin, and she used her hair to tickle every square inch of skin thoroughly. She saved until last the sensitive areas she had discovered earlier and she spent extra time at each of them. She must have tickled my poor nipples for an extra 20 minutes. And she did so most deviously. She alternated slow soft tickling of them with fast hard whipping. Then she tried whipping with long pauses between the strokes and tickling with fast furious ones.
When she got to my inner thighs, she again paid special attention and spent a long time there. In addition to varying the pace and the force she applied as before, she seemed to be trying to get as close as possible to my cock and balls without ever actually touching them.
Now it was time for her finale. She used all her skill and every technique she could think of as she pounced upon my cock and completed her hair job on me. Toward the end, she gently wrapped her hair around my cock as she slowly jerked me off.
My head fell back in a squeal as she repeatedly tortured my penis. Good Heavens! I felt like I was going to die!
"Gonna come?" she asked. I managed to nod frantically, as her she wrapped me in her hair and she grew bolder with each stroke longer and firmer than the last threatening to finally push me over the edge. My body bowed up tight as I felt a surge of hot pressure begin to build. And then she released me and pulled her hair away. I could scarcely grasp it. So close!
"Wha?!" I cried.
"Oh no," she purred, tickling gently with her hair just touching the head of my penis, then my balls, then along the shaft and just beneath the crown, "you don't get to come till I **say** you get to come!"
And again there was the warm, smooth caress of her hair encircling my organ, always precisely with the right amount of stimulus and friction so soft and caressing with never quite enough fondling to bring me to bear but just enough to hold me on the edge forever. She played me like a finely tuned instrument.
At long last, she drew her fingers down my inflamed penis. She ran her hair across its thick, blood-engorged knob. She giggled lightly, then wound her long hair around the shaft again. She began to work it up and down, rubbing my organ in the soft, undulating heart of her locks as once more the heat built up within me. A twinge of pain, like a single thorn, pricked at the base of my member as I grew closer and closer to orgasm. I began to repeat her name again and again, praising and loving and begging and thanking her as I felt my genitals pull up tight, and a surge of power rumbled from somewhere deep within my belly with fierce intensity. I ground my teeth... I held my breath... And this time she did not stop.
“Don’t think about my long hair wrapped around you now!” she teased, sensing that I was about to burst. “Don’t come. Whatever you do don’t come yet. Just ignore my soft hair constantly urging you toward that release. Don’t cum no matter what I do. Having my hair stroking your cock doesn’t even excite you that much, does it? You can feel its silky texture surrounding you and drawing your cum out from deep inside you. Even if I squeeze you a little tighter and stroke you a little faster, you’re not allowed to cum yet! Even if I use the ends of my hair to tickle your balls and then the tip of your penis like this, and I still keep pumping you over and over, you can hold back a little longer, can’t you?
I haven’t given you permission to cum, so WHATEVER YOU DO…DON’T COME ALL OVER MY MAGNIFICENT RED HAIR!”
But she knew I would come. And she knew that she would not give me her permission. But she continued onward relentlessly. Before I came, she built my orgasm up for another fifteen minutes, stroking over and over with just enough pressure to keep me on the verge, bringing me right up to the edge, but not quite beyond it.
Then, finally my body rocked with spasms as I exploded as never before, squirting gobs of semen in a powerful stream into her hair. She continued stroking me, pulling every last drop from deep within my soul. She had transformed me into her total hair-slave. She smiled in satisfaction as I continued quivering and moaning under the blanket of her red hair.
As I lay in a sweating, shivering mass on the sheets, weary from this extreme tickle and hair torture and the unbearable delay before reaching orgasm. Mistress Beth smiled as she reminded me of what lay ahead tomorrow.
"So..." she purred, running her fingertips across her own hair as it lay upon my chest, "I guess you do have a hair fetish after all. Do you believe it now?" My only response was an incoherent nod. I could not speak; I could barely even move. "Good!" she chirped. "Then I’ll see you again tomorrow!"
I finally made up my mind to go through with it. For years, I had fantasized and was curious what it would actually be like. I had these curiosities since childhood and they eventually developed into fetishes. However, sometimes I would step away from myself and wonder “Why on earth do I so desperately want to be Tickle Tortured?”.
By surfing the Internet, I learned of the BDSM scene from the privacy of my own den. Eventually, I got the nerve to contact a Dominatrix who operated within reasonable driving distance from me. I exchanged information with her and followed instructions to make an appointment only when I was comfortably ready to do so. The day came and I made arrangements to visit her.
Arriving at the designated place, I walked up the steps to the front door. Mistress Beth carefully opened the door as she kept most of herself out of view to the outside. I was greeted with warm smile and a compliment on my punctuality and was granted permission to enter.
Ms Beth led me to a sitting room where I was free to relax and discuss my interests and the session in more detail with her. She was attired based on my previous correspondences. It was slightly beyond acceptable for an office setting. She was wearing a white silk blouse, a black skirt, nylon stockings and pumps. She sat directly across from me with her legs crossed. Her skirt had a long slit that assisted in showing off her legs. She was reviewing the questionnaire I previously filled out online. My butterflies were still there, however just seeing her sitting in that attire was quite erotic and tickled the fancy of my other fetishes.
“So tell me briefly about your interest in being tickled?” was her most pointed question. Since she could tell I was nervous and realized this was my first time to ever be subjected to it. Ms Beth made it a point to re-assure me that she is very experienced and will not to go beyond my limits, although she may push those limits to the extreme. She was very professional and demonstrated a sincere pleasantness and eventually my nerves settled down. She continued to inquire about my fantasies and fetishes in some detail.
She smiled coyly when I told her how beautiful her long red hair was.
It was soon time for part 1 of the session. I was led to a well-lit room that had several long candles burning for extra ambiance and fragrance. A large bed sat in the center of the room. There were large mirrors hanging on all four walls. I was instructed to strip and lie on my back on the bed. She left the room to change, and she said that as soon as she got back my session would begin!
After a few minutes, I heard the clicking of her heels approaching. Ms Beth must have switched on a stereo in the dungeon. I didn’t recognize the music. To put it simply, it sounded kind of creepy. As she opened the door, Mistress Beth said, “Let’s kill these lights!” She flipped a switch and the room went dark. Only the candlelight remained casting a dim glow throughout the room. As my eyes were adjusting to the change I did notice the tone of Ms Beth’s voice sounded less compassionate and was rather stern.
My head was facing away from the doorway, so I couldn’t see much except for her faint reflection in one of the mirrors. As her heels clicked closer she approached me from the side. She came within view finally and my stomach sank into a state of panic. Mistress Beth’s appearance had completely changed. She was wearing all black lace, a half bra, negligee, garter and even a thin black mask. Most disappointedly, she had also pinned her gorgeous red hair up and even covered it with a black scarf so it was totally hidden from my view. As I focused on her hands, I noticed her blood red fingernails and lipstick. They provided a stark contrasted to her sexy black outfit and smooth white skin. At this point, she began!
Her eyes were piercing through the mask and her blood red lipstick accented a sadistic smirk.
“You are going to quickly realize how much of a mistake you made by letting me tickle torture you like this!” She first rested her hand on my leg just above the knee, lightly squeezed (exposing the first of my numerous ticklish spots to her) a few times and then slowly began dragging her fingernails over my flesh. “…Because, I am going to tickle the living shit out of you! And remember this” as she leaned in close to my face “I’m not going to show you any mercy!”
She next disclosed the specifics of the safe word that didn’t give me any comfort. Ms Beth was going to tickle me for one solid hour. I could use the safe word one time and one time only and she would stop tickling me for one minute. After that, she would resume her tickling and only stop if she felt I was going to come too soon!
She began at my feet! She knew from the interview that I didn’t think my feet were very ticklish. She stared right into my eyes as she propped one hand on the table and lightly stroked the bottom of one foot. The first stoke caused me to twitch but the sensations would not cause me to break into laughter. I closed my eyes and focused on fighting. Every now and then I would open my eyes and see Mistress Beth staring at me. Her sadistic eyes still piercing into my mind. “Perhaps the top of your feet will be more sensitive” as she took her other hand and lightly scratched the top of the same foot.
This produced more intense sensations causing me to flex and move my foot in an effort to avoid her nails. “Ahhh, there’s a tickle spot!” she cooed. I wasn’t laughing as of yet, however I began verbally grunting in frustration at my failure to avoid the tickling. She began more of a verbal torment now. She was calling me her tickle slave.
After getting mixed success from my feet she took both hands and slowly tickled her way up my legs. She worked her way upward slowly, adding to the suspense.
My Mistress was smiling in glee as the effects of her tickling continued. “My Tickle Slave awakens!” She cooed. The slow dragging of her nails continued up my legs. Each inch of skin seemed more sensitive to her touch than the last. I was soon begging her to stop. I was getting what I asked for and this woman was paying no mind to my pleas. I would catch glimpses of myself thrashing about in the surrounding mirrors as well as my evil torturer who obviously was enjoying this! I did not yet utter my safe word, however I kept debating on doing it. Soon I learned that the inside of my thighs were very ticklish. Mistress Beth noticed too, and she lingered there for a very long time. This assault was brutal and I knew I couldn’t take too much more of it. My Mistress was diabolical now, remembering each spot that worked the best and continued stroking relentlessly. ”Tickle, tickle. I’m having so much fun I may never stop” were her only words. She said them in a slow, sensual tone. My body convulsed and jerked from her tickling. Finally I could take no more! And with that, I screamed my SAFEWORD. True to her word, she stopped! As I slowly calmed down, my Mistress continued her humiliation of me…”You barely lasted ten minutes. How on earth are you going to survive a full hour of this? Besides, I’m enjoying this too much, I may grant you a free extension of time. Perhaps two or three hours!” I knew I couldn’t survive being tickled for that long.
I was finding out that I just am too ticklish for this and perhaps I made a big mistake. I was also informed how much my penis is enjoying it as well. It was completely erect through this and was even twitching as I was regaining my composure. “Enjoy what’s left of your minute of rest my poor little tickle slave. It’s about half way over now”. She stepped away from me for a few seconds and removed the scarf and clip to let her long red hair tumble free. “I think I will give you a taste of how excruciating it can be for you to be tickle tortured with my soft hair for awhile!” Walking up closer to me, her sadistic smile reappeared as she said, “Your one minute rest is over!” With that, she began to lightly tickle my face with the ends of her hair. I soon learned how frustrating it was. My Mistress licked her lips as she smiled and enjoyed my frustrations. However, she grew annoyed with my head twisting about and eventually repositioned herself above the head of the bed and held my head still with her left arm. This torture coupled with the aroma of her scented hair added a special intoxication to this part of the session. Eventually, she concluded that my breathing was coming much too easily. She had a remedy for this as well. “You don’t seem to be in too much distress. Would you like your Mistress to smother you with her hair now?” I was begging for some relief from her tickling hair, however, I soon learned that this was just another method for her to add to my torment. She covered my face fully with her hair now and used her right hand to press it firmly over my mouth and nose. It was now becoming very hard for me to get enough oxygen, and she decided to increase my agony by lightly tickling my nipples with the fingers of her other hand. She was able to reach my throbbing penis as well and she stroked me lightly there once every minute or so. She eventually stopped this phase of her torture and laughed at my predicament.
The horror intensified as she retrieved the scarf and tied it over my mouth as a gag. I was told that since I had already used my safe word, my words would be of no importance anymore.
“Your armpits look so inviting. Shall I tickle them next? I was commanded to answer with “Yes Mistress, please tickle me there!” clearly (even through the gag) or she would add even more time to my torture session.
“Shall we try again? Shall I tickle your armpits next?” She commanded. I responded as best I could and with that, her fingernails started a vicious attack on my armpits. It was only a matter of seconds until I was thrashing again. She tickled up my arms and down my sides, sometimes with her fingers and sometimes with her hair for endless variations. Through this part of the session, she required more interactive communications from me while being tickled. I was to answer in a positive mode to questions and statements by her like “You just love it when your Mistress tickles you like this, don’t you?” Naturally, with the gag it was difficult to clearly say what was required. That was an added frustration my Mistress capitalized on and used as a method of punishing me by threatening an even more extended duration of this tickle torture.
Her torture continued on and on. By now, she knew my most sensitive areas and she would be focusing on all of them again and again. She scooted up on the bed a bit so she could easily reach my nipples and my balls and penis whenever she felt like it. Sitting so relaxed, with her legs crossed as her hands played me like a piano, she demonstrated how frustrating it was for her to stop tickling me for a few seconds, only to resume zealously just as I was settling down. Her favorite was to stroke me as near to orgasm as she could by lightly tickling with her fingers, then stop and make me count to 10 before she resumed with the even softer touch of her hair drifting across my throbbing manhood. She did this at least ten times with subtle variations such as wrapping her hair gently around my cock or using her hair to whip me. She repeatedly reminded me that there would be absolutely NO mercy whatsoever. “Oh you poor baby, it doesn’t tickle does it? ” she purred. “You are in so much trouble. You remember how much mercy I have right?”
“Oh yeah, remember I have NONE, absolutely no mercy for you, no matter how much you beg and plead, no matter how bad the torture seems, I will always have more in store for you. You are my tickle slave and I my NEVER let you go. Or cum either for that matter.”
“Oh I’m evil aren’t I, well you just have no idea. We are just getting started.”
She was taking her time knowing that I was lying there thinking about the torture still to come. She would never tire of torturing each and every square inch of my body. The sadistic look on her face told me that she was not kidding.
Beth eyed my erection and noticed it couldn't be any harder. "Well, are you sure you’re not just a little excited? I'll bet you'd love to explode with pleasure right about now. Well, you’re not in charge of that, so I’ll decide when you’re ready and if I feel like granting you your wish myself."
She covered my cock with her hair and at the same time she used long fingernails to tickle my balls. "Tickle, tickle. Would you like to cum my sweet tickle slave? Well, I don’t think so. I’m not going to let you off so easily.”
Next she produced a huge, bushy feather. It was black just like her silky outfit. After she made sure I had had a good look at it, she said, in a very flirty and teasing voice:
"3, 2, 1, GO!" and the feather descended upon me. The sensation was immediate and devastating. One, which I couldn’t stand, but didn’t want to lose either. She had again begun to tickle my balls and shaft, but with the feather this time. At the same time, she had circled her fingers around my cock and was stroking it slowly and methodically. Within seconds, to my horror and surprise, I was fully erect again. Mistress Beth giggled and said, "wow, looks like you enjoy this a lot more than you let on!" I was mortified, as all of my urges were now replaced with a single desire to climax. She began stroking a little harder and a little faster now. Almost there, almost there, and finally - nothing. Mistress Beth stopped stroking, smirked and began to tickle my chest and nipples with her feather again.
"No. NO!" I yelled through the gag. “Please finish me now. I’m begging you. Please let me cum.” She giggled again heartlessly and continued to tickle me. Never before, had I been that close only to be brought crashing down. Mistress Beth kissed me gently on the forehead, and purred teasingly: "Oh, you didn't think I'd let you off that easily, did you?" with an evil smirk, she resumed tickling my underarms.
All thought of orgasm disappeared now, to my utter horror there was only the tickle torture that remained as a constant reminder of my mistake in allowing this Mistress to have her way with me. I was in tickle hell now, and there was no getting out. I felt the familiar sensations on my balls again, but this time the tickling did not stop. I was getting close, so close... I would surely manage it this time...
With a cackle, Mistress Beth squeezed my cock, and let go. I screamed in frustration. This was a whole new experience for me, and I didn’t know how long I could stand it before I went completely insane. Then the tickling stopped.
Mistress had pulled over a chair, and was now towering above me. She sat with her long hair dangling directly above me.
"You know," she said, "I can give you release... If I want to." She giggled again. "You're completely at my mercy now. If you please me with your responses for the next few minutes, I MAY consider it. First, it’s time for me to remove that gag so that I can hear what you have to say."
"So," she purred, sliding a bare hand down the inner curve of my thigh.
"What... are you starting now?" I asked, and suddenly she slapped my face.
"Did I say you could talk yet?"
"No...no mistress..." I replied. She began to slowly drag her hair up and hair down my body. I fought to keep control... to not squirm or beg her... But she kept her long hair rubbing and drifting back and fourth over my sensitive skin, each time faster than the last, each time swirling her mane in a new, more ticklish location. She searched the all curves and crevices of my body, locating every delicious little wellspring of sensation as I wriggled and mewled under her ministrations.
"Having fun?" she cheered, grinning widely. But I knew better than to answer until given permission to speak.
"I know what you need," she said, and the tickling stopped. I caught my breath in a short moment of rest. “You may now begin to answer my questions. But I warn you to do so in a polite and respectful manner and to always tell me the truth.”
"So tell me," she sing-songed, a long pause, feeling like an eternity as I hung on her words. “You like my hair, don’t you?" The thought of it immediately sent shivers all throughout my body.
But I paused before answering. “Huh? Oh, sorry” I laugh nervously. “No, no. I think it’s pretty and all, but I’m really not into that in a sexual way at all!” She is still dangling her hair over me and my eyes keep getting drawn toward those beautiful red tresses.
As she crosses her legs again, she asks, “So how long have you had this hair fetish?”
“I don’t, Mistress Beth, you’re wrong. I really don’t have a hair fetish at all.” My voice trails off as she again begins moving downward, until the full body of her hair dangles just over the top of my again fully erect penis.
“Yes, I think you do,” she says quietly. “If you’ll admit it, I can make you feel really good.
I stare silently, then respond, “No, I think it’s OK but I’m not a hair guy. I’m just horny all the time – that’s why I’m hard. It’s not your hair, really!”
She has begun swinging her hair around and around my erect penis, closing the circle tighter and tighter until it begins to rub around the base of it. My cock twitches at the contact and becomes more engorged. A slight moan escapes my lips. She smiles wickedly and starts swinging her hair back and forth, faster and faster, striking my cock with its full silkiness again and again. My cock twitches more with each successive strike and my head is spinning.
Mistress Beth stops again and runs the entire length of her hair from the base of my penis to the tip and then comes over the top of it. My penis is now covered with her hair and she squeezes me with her fingers. I begin to grind my hips upward as another wave of shivers washes over me. She looks down and smiles at my helplessness. She wiggles her hair back and forth, sweeping against the head of my penis as I start to moan more loudly now. She asks once more “Are you really sure you don’t have a hair fetish? I think you may be in denial.”
“I…oh-hh-h…no, I’m just…oh, man…” babbling as she continues to massage me with her hair. My moans become more insistent and she is enjoying her power over me. She positions her hair over my cock again and shakes her head back and fourth vigorously, making me even crazier with desire.
“You know what? I want to practice more of my hair job technique and, since you don’t realize yet that you have such a strong hair fetish, I figure it’ll be the best way to finish our session. I will make you cum with my hair like you have never cum before. What do you think? Oh, I forgot, it doesn’t really matter what you think. You are my slave and I will do whatever pleases me.” She stops moving her head.
I come to my senses somewhat and answer, “No…no, You won’t be able to make me cum with your hair. I promise,” I gasp and struggle to compose my thoughts. “It feels good and everything, but you can’t make me come with your hair. I’m not into that…really.”
“Great!” she says with a bright smile, “because I want to practice a big hair job finish that lasts for quite a while before I make you explode and I need to perfect this technique thoroughly.” She positions herself comfortably so she has full access to my penis, squeezing it gently between her fingers. She begins to stroke slowly and evenly up and down, and my eyes roll to the back of my head as her ministrations drive me to the edge.
“I’m glad you have that kind of self-control. I mean, if you do come too quickly, before I’ve practiced all my techniques, I’ll have to punish you,” she says.
I can barely hear her and I simply reply, “Huhhhh?”
“If you come right away, I’ll have to punish you. Do you know what I’ll do?”
I just shake my head as I continue writhing in pleasure.
“I’ll keep you here until tomorrow and then I’ll simply begin again. But the next time, I’ll tickle you senseless for two hours instead of one,” she says, deliberately emphasizing each word as she increases the speed and pressure on my throbbing penis. “And then, you will be getting another hair job too.”
I am startled, but too far-gone now to protest. I look at her with pleading eyes, but I can’t so much as utter a single word in response. The sensations are overwhelming and I am already near the breaking point. Now, she stops stroking me and moves up so that her hair is again covering my face. She lowers her head and begins to slap my face with her long hair. Then she lowers her head further and drags the full length of her hair from side to side across my face. It has started tickling my face again, but after a few minutes she uses it to smother me again. At the same time, she says “You like the feel of my hair on your cock, don’t you? It will make you crazy and you won’t admit it’s what you like. You love the deep red color of my hair, don’t you? And what about its sweet scent? You can smell it now, can’t you? But think about what I’m going to do to you later. I’m going to use this sweet beautiful hair to manipulate your cock into a state of frenzy.
Hmmm? Now, remember when I do that not to cum right away or your pits, nipples and cock are going to have to be tickle-tortured for twice as long tomorrow! Don’t think about my hair when it’s all over your cock, stroking you closer and closer to that glorious release. It will feel so good, won’t it? But it’s not quite time for that yet. Let’s do something else first. Let’s see how much my hair can tickle all your other body parts. I’ll probably get pretty close to your sensitive hard on, but remember, you’re not going to cum until I say so. I’m going to start with you feet again, are you ready?”
So on it went for what seemed like an eternity. She visited each and every area of my body excluding for my groin, and she used her hair to tickle every square inch of skin thoroughly. She saved until last the sensitive areas she had discovered earlier and she spent extra time at each of them. She must have tickled my poor nipples for an extra 20 minutes. And she did so most deviously. She alternated slow soft tickling of them with fast hard whipping. Then she tried whipping with long pauses between the strokes and tickling with fast furious ones.
When she got to my inner thighs, she again paid special attention and spent a long time there. In addition to varying the pace and the force she applied as before, she seemed to be trying to get as close as possible to my cock and balls without ever actually touching them.
Now it was time for her finale. She used all her skill and every technique she could think of as she pounced upon my cock and completed her hair job on me. Toward the end, she gently wrapped her hair around my cock as she slowly jerked me off.
My head fell back in a squeal as she repeatedly tortured my penis. Good Heavens! I felt like I was going to die!
"Gonna come?" she asked. I managed to nod frantically, as her she wrapped me in her hair and she grew bolder with each stroke longer and firmer than the last threatening to finally push me over the edge. My body bowed up tight as I felt a surge of hot pressure begin to build. And then she released me and pulled her hair away. I could scarcely grasp it. So close!
"Wha?!" I cried.
"Oh no," she purred, tickling gently with her hair just touching the head of my penis, then my balls, then along the shaft and just beneath the crown, "you don't get to come till I **say** you get to come!"
And again there was the warm, smooth caress of her hair encircling my organ, always precisely with the right amount of stimulus and friction so soft and caressing with never quite enough fondling to bring me to bear but just enough to hold me on the edge forever. She played me like a finely tuned instrument.
At long last, she drew her fingers down my inflamed penis. She ran her hair across its thick, blood-engorged knob. She giggled lightly, then wound her long hair around the shaft again. She began to work it up and down, rubbing my organ in the soft, undulating heart of her locks as once more the heat built up within me. A twinge of pain, like a single thorn, pricked at the base of my member as I grew closer and closer to orgasm. I began to repeat her name again and again, praising and loving and begging and thanking her as I felt my genitals pull up tight, and a surge of power rumbled from somewhere deep within my belly with fierce intensity. I ground my teeth... I held my breath... And this time she did not stop.
“Don’t think about my long hair wrapped around you now!” she teased, sensing that I was about to burst. “Don’t come. Whatever you do don’t come yet. Just ignore my soft hair constantly urging you toward that release. Don’t cum no matter what I do. Having my hair stroking your cock doesn’t even excite you that much, does it? You can feel its silky texture surrounding you and drawing your cum out from deep inside you. Even if I squeeze you a little tighter and stroke you a little faster, you’re not allowed to cum yet! Even if I use the ends of my hair to tickle your balls and then the tip of your penis like this, and I still keep pumping you over and over, you can hold back a little longer, can’t you?
I haven’t given you permission to cum, so WHATEVER YOU DO…DON’T COME ALL OVER MY MAGNIFICENT RED HAIR!”
But she knew I would come. And she knew that she would not give me her permission. But she continued onward relentlessly. Before I came, she built my orgasm up for another fifteen minutes, stroking over and over with just enough pressure to keep me on the verge, bringing me right up to the edge, but not quite beyond it.
Then, finally my body rocked with spasms as I exploded as never before, squirting gobs of semen in a powerful stream into her hair. She continued stroking me, pulling every last drop from deep within my soul. She had transformed me into her total hair-slave. She smiled in satisfaction as I continued quivering and moaning under the blanket of her red hair.
As I lay in a sweating, shivering mass on the sheets, weary from this extreme tickle and hair torture and the unbearable delay before reaching orgasm. Mistress Beth smiled as she reminded me of what lay ahead tomorrow.
"So..." she purred, running her fingertips across her own hair as it lay upon my chest, "I guess you do have a hair fetish after all. Do you believe it now?" My only response was an incoherent nod. I could not speak; I could barely even move. "Good!" she chirped. "Then I’ll see you again tomorrow!"
